#he just wants to commune with his remora.....

[quatregats]

‘I beg your pardon, sir, but Captain’s compliments and would you like to see something amazingly philosophical?’ cried Babbington, darting in like a ball. After the dimness of the gun-room the white blaze on deck made it almost impossible to see, but through his narrowed eyelids Stephen could distinguish Old Sponge, the taller Greek, standing naked in a pool of water by the starboard hances, dripping still and holding out a piece of copper sheathing with great complacency. On his right stood Jack, his hands behind him and a look of happy triumph on his face: on his left most of the watch, craning and staring. The Greek held the corroded copper sheet out a little farther and, watching Stephen’s face intently, he turned it slowly over. On the other side there was a small dark fish with a sucker on the back of its head, clinging fast to the metal. ‘A remora!’ cried Stephen with all the amazement and delight the Greek and Jack had counted upon, and more. ‘A bucket, there! Be gentle with the remora, good Sponge, honest Sponge. Oh, what happiness to see the true remora!’ Old Sponge and Young Sponge had been over the side in this flat calm, scraping away the weed that slowed the Sophie’s pace: in the clear water they could be seen creeping along ropes weighed down with nets of shot, holding their breath for two minutes at a time, and sometimes diving right under the keel and coming up the other side from lightness of heart. But it was only now that Old Sponge’s accustomed eye had detected their sly common enemy hiding under the garboard-strake. The remora was so strong it had certainly torn the sheathing off, they explained to him; but that was nothing – it was so strong it could hold the sloop motionless, or almost motionless, in a brisk gale! But now they had him – there was an end to his capers now, the dog – and now the Sophie would run along like a swan. For a moment Stephen felt inclined to argue, to appeal to their common sense, to point to the nine-inch fish, to the exiguity of its fins; but he was too wise, and too happy, to yield to this temptation, and he jealously carried the bucket down to his cabin, to commune with the remora in peace. And he was too much of a philosopher to feel much vexation a little later when a pretty breeze reached them, coming in over the rippling sea just abaft the larboard beam, so that the Sophie (released from the wicked remora) heeled over in a smooth, steady run that carried her along at seven knots until sunset, when the mast-head cried, ‘Land ho! Land on the starboard bow.’

- Master and Commander, Chapter 6

[ahsokathegray]

Heat Advisory

Pairing: Rexsoka

Prompt: Rexsoka Monthly Jul. ‘23 - I Told You Not To Touch That

Summary: Pabu is under an official heat advisory this summer. And so is Ahsoka. This is how the Bad Batch make it worse for everyone involved.

Tags: 18+ smut, mating/heat cycles, not omegaverse, aphrodisiacs, semi-public sex, lots of sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, issuing apologies to both Echo and Wrecker, inappropriate use of a Lula

Word Count: 8,426

A/N: If you haven’t already, go give @rexsoka-monthly a follow and join us in supporting and creating prompt-based Rexsoka content! 🫶

read on ao3! / masterlist

Echo entered his brothers’ oceanside villa sweaty and out of breath, having practically run the whole way from the landing zone to the house. He leaned against the door as it slid shut behind him and pressed his head against the durasteel, sighing in relief at the cool sensation. The men each shared a puzzled look before turning to their brother for an explanation.

Tired of waiting on Echo to stop panting, Wrecker finally asked what they were all wondering, “Echo? You didn’t tell us you were coming back today.”

“That is because he wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow evening,” Tech pointed out, setting his datapad down on the table, “He is exactly one rotation and four hours ahead of schedule.”

Their heaving brother wiped his forehead and pushed himself off the door. “Good to see you too, fellas,” he greeted sarcastically, “Where’s Omega? And when in the blazes did it get so hot on Pabu?”

Hunter handed him a glass of cold water and kicked a chair away from the table for Echo to take a seat. “Omega’s over at the Hazard’s. Looks like summer came just in time for your arrival,” he answered, “We’ve been in the water just about every day for the past two weeks now. Makes the days somewhat bearable.”

“We’re under a heat advisory,” Wrecker added, looking to Tech to make sure he’d gotten that term right. Tech gave him a sharp nod and adjusted his cloudy goggles — the heat radiating off of Echo enough to fog them over. 

Echo laughed to himself as he dabbed his neck with a dry cloth and his breathing somewhat returned to a normal rate. “Of course we are,” he grumbled, “That���s just my luck, too. The Remora’s temperature regulator took some damage as we were making our escape from Corellia. All it’s been blowing is heat for three rotations straight. A couple of times I considered just turning it off so that the vacuum of space could just freeze us all to death. Never thought I’d say that after coming out of cryo.” 

“Well we’ve got working air here,” Hunter assured, joining his brothers at the table, “How’d the mission go?”

With his glass of water now empty, Echo wiped his mouth and gave Hunter a look that said everything. “Went fine. We were supposed to stop back at the garage on Coruscant before I came back, but just couldn’t take it anymore. We had to stop here first if we didn’t want to die of a heat stroke.”

“So I take it Rex is here,” Hunter gathered. 

Wrecker sat silently and watched as his brothers shared looks with one another, communicating without the use of words or hand signals. He turned to Tech for answers, but his nose was in his datapad again. “Does that mean that she’s—” Hunter began asking. 

“Oh, yes,” Echo confirmed, cutting him short and pouring another glass of water. Most unfortunately for Echo, his quarters on the Remora were right beside the Captain’s. He found out much more than he ever needed to through the thin walls of their ship. A week’s long mission in which Commander Tano didn’t sleep in her own quarters once had been his undoing. Next time it was just the three of them on a mission, he’d fight harder for Gregor to come along.

“She who?” Wrecker asked, knitting his brows together.

Echo chugged another glass of water from his already condensating glass and fanned himself by tugging on the front of his shirt. He then ran his cold hands over his face and leaned back, finally feeling the air conditioning. “My old Commander from when I was in the 501st… She survived Order 66. I had no idea, but apparently Rex has been in contact with her since the end of the war. They were together when it all went down. She’s been his secret contact this entire time and was there with Rex and Senator Chuchi when he called us to Coruscant. She came with Rex and I on the mission,” he explained, then added somewhat scornfully, “I imagine they will be coming through the door any minute.”

Wrecker was in shock, his jaw hanging open and not understanding how Echo could say all of this so casually. And it almost sounded like he was disappointed that they’d come with him to Pabu. “Your Commander? She’s a Jedi? Ha! That sounds like good news to me! She must be tough! Hunter, how come you didn’t tell us?”

Removing his vest and throwing it over the back of his chair, Echo just exhaled. Very few people know about Ahsoka’s involvement, but Rex was finally comfortable introducing her to the dechipped clones and having her help out on a more hands-on level. Echo had no idea just how hands-on that had really meant. And there wasn’t a worse way he could've found out. Walking in on them in the middle of the common area in the garage after all their brothers had gone to bed was enough to keep him sticking to curfew. Forever burned on the backs of his eyelids was the image of the illustrious Captain Rex with Commander Tano’s very orange legs thrown over his shoulders as he drove into her like a man dying.

The revelation that his former commanding officers were… involved… was a pill he wasn’t prepared to swallow. 

It was fine over the first few months… Echo had gotten used to the discreet touching and the looks, but this week had been his own personal hell as it introduced noises into the mix. He knew now why poor Fireball never got any sleep. “Yeah. Well, it was good news at first,” he responded, mumbling the last bit to where only Hunter could hear it. 

Hunter scratched underneath his bandana and answered Wrecker’s hanging question, “Her identity is typically on a need-to-know basis.”

Moments later, as predicted, the door slid open again and in stepped Rex with a female Togruta hot on his heels. Wrecker’s face lit up upon seeing their guests. Not only was his favorite reg on Pabu, but he also came with a small friend! She was taller than Omega and a tad pointier, but Wrecker immediately decided that Rex’s Jedi was now part of the family. Omega was going to be over the moons when she got back!

Standing from his chair, Wrecker greeted them both by enveloping them into a single large embrace, bellowing in laughter as their feet left the floor. “Rex! What are you doing on Pabu?”

Hunter’s nose twitched and he shot Echo another glance, to which his brother cocked an eyebrow. They’d been in contact over the last several days, as Echo was having trouble sleeping. It was quite evident to the Sarge’s heightened senses now why that was so. Their guests not only smelled like a fresh fuck, but Ahsoka was unmistakably in heat.

Rex laughed with what little air he had left in his lungs, “Good to see you, too, Wrecker.”

“Alright, put them down,” Hunter said, chuckling at the way Rex’s already-red face had turned a shade darker as well as feeling sympathetic for Ahsoka. 

“Oh. Sorry, it’s just been a while since we’ve seen ya, Rex,” the burly man apologized. He then stood up straighter and fiddled with his thumbs, “And you must be Ahsoka.”

She giggled between breaths and beamed up at him, “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, Wrecker.”

Echo sighed and introduced them, “Everyone, meet Ahsoka. Ahsoka, you’ve already met Wrecker. This is Hunter in front of me and Tech’s over there. Excuse him for being so rude. He does it to everyone.”

Tech glanced up just long enough to offer her a wave before turning back down to his datapad, beginning research on the Togruta species for things he didn’t already know. Hunter smiled and stood up to greet her, “Nice to meet you, Commander.” He gave a mock salute and poured two more glasses of water. 

“Thank you, and just Ahsoka is fine,” she assured, trying to control her breathing. She looked over to Rex, who was glistening with sweat and attempting to wick some of it away before pressing the cold glass to his cheek. Hunter looked between Rex and Echo, knowing the Captain wasn’t just sweating from the walk to the villa and a lack of cold air on the Remora.

Wrecker offered his chair for Ahsoka to sit, which she gladly accepted. He then began to offer her a towel to wipe away her sweat as well, but noticed she wasn’t sweating as badly as the Captain was. Instead, he handed it to Rex and chuckled, “Not used to these types of temperatures, are we brother?”

“Not designed for it, more like,” he agreed, laughing even though his lungs tried to refuse. What he wouldn’t give to have his temperature controlled blacks right about now. But he knew from experience just how much control Ahsoka lacked when he was in blacks and she was in heat. It was typically an ideal mix, but wouldn’t have been manageable in the presence of the Batch. Rex then saw where Echo had removed his vest and made a move to do the same before stopping himself. If he started removing layers from his civvies now, it might not end so well. 

Blue eyes watched him intently, waiting for him to remove the article of clothing. Ahsoka bit her lip as his bicep flexed and he decided not to go through with it. Rex kept it on and willed himself to find the strength not to take it off, no matter how hot he was. The air conditioning would cool him off eventually. 

Ahsoka sat her empty glass down and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, trying to suppress the insatiable and urgent need in her core. There was nothing to keep her distracted now. Her thighs were pressed together so tightly that the muscles began to quiver. And despite having just been wrapped around him, she already needed Rex again. She reached over and folded the collar of his shirt down, her fingers lingering longer than they should on the skin of his neck. Ahsoka dipped them slightly under the hem of his shirt before she reluctantly pulled away. “So when do I get to meet Omega?” she asked, smiling through clenched teeth and trying not to squirm, “I’ve heard so much about her.”

“Well, right now she’s actually—” Hunter started before Wrecker cut him off. 

“Oh, you two are gonna be best friends! She’s over at her friend Lyana’s right now. Her dad, Shep, he’s the mayor, so her house has a much better cooling unit. But she’ll be back soon. You’re gonna get along great!” 

Ahsoka nodded as he continued to talk to her, the majority of his words passing straight through her montrals and not registering at all. She bounced her leg and fiddled with her nails. Rex’s eyes were on her and she could practically feel them. It took the strength of a gundark to keep her focus on Wrecker. Her Captain could see how on edge she was and brushed his knee against hers to grab her attention, causing the chevrons on her lekku to darken impossibly further. She swallowed and ceased the nervous habit, meeting his worried gaze, both of them missing the way Tech was surveying them.

Her hand went to cup Rex’s knee and he addressed his brothers without looking at them, “I think we’re gonna head out, boys.”

Echo made a face, knowing well why they were trying to leave, but Wrecker looked like a kicked tooka. “C’mon, Rex, you can’t leave yet. Tech was just about to make us lunch!”

Ahsoka pressed her lips into a thin line. She couldn't have cared less about lunch in a time like this. She only craved one thing when she was in heat and it was between Rex’s—

“Why not?” Rex agreed, giving Ahsoka a sympathetic look. She may not have an appetite, but his fast metabolism and constant state of being inside of her was hungry work. He’d need the added energy if Ahsoka planned on riding him all the way back to Coruscant. Real food was going to be a necessity, especially if Echo wasn’t coming back with them. 

So Tech abandoned his datapad long enough to prepare a meal, busying himself in the kitchen while Wrecker continued to ask Ahsoka questions and exchange stories from the war. Any other time, she would’ve been able to give him her undivided attention, but this was torture. She bit hard into her tongue and crossed her legs, trying hard to keep still and quiet. Subtly rocking back and forth in her chair wasn’t cutting it anymore and Rex’s thighs were looking quite comfortable. She nearly salivated at the thought of straddling one and rutting against him to completion. 

Wrecker watched as her face screwed up, but just figured that Ahsoka was still cooling down from the heat or maybe Togruta just looked like they were in pain when they were listening intently.

Once lunch was served, Wrecker had finally gone quiet and practically made love to his food. Her tunneling vision shifted to Rex, catching the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Something inside of her jolted, more powerful than before. Ahsoka placed her utensil down and gripped the edge of the chair until her knuckles turned white. 

She took the opportunity, while everyone was busy digging in, to push her chair flush with Rex’s and tugged his hand beneath the table. Still chewing, his eyes widened a fraction at what she was asking him to do. He blushed furiously and nodded, swapping his fork over to his left hand and using his right to discreetly work Ahsoka through the fabric of her pants. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice that he was eating with his non-dominant hand, or that Ahsoka’s eyes were rolling into the back of her skull.

She’d all but abandoned her plate and Rex halted his motions, indicating with his head for her to at least eat something to keep their activities from being discovered. Reluctantly, she picked up her fork and took a few bites more, grinding down on his motionless hand as she did so. A small moan escaped her mouth, but she was quick to save it. “This meal is delicious, Tech,” she hummed.

“Thank you. I am pleased that you like it,” he said, feeling proud of himself for his research.

Rex toyed at Ahsoka’s clothed clit until she could barely take a bite, having to place her utensil down yet again as she took an obligatory sip of water, shaking the glass as she did so. 

Everyone was so preoccupied with their meal that Rex took it one step further. If he could get Ahsoka off now, the rest of their time in the villa would be somewhat manageable. His fingers moved to quickly undo the fasteners on her pants, earning a gasp from her and she moved to help him. Rex’s mouth twitched upwards into a smirk as he was greeted with the wet heat of her desperate cunt. 

Ahsoka cleared her throat to drown the whines that threatened to escape her, gripping a leg of the chair with her free hand. His fingers made varying patterns against her clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves itself and then venturing further. Not even moments later, Ahsoka was spasming, her thighs clamping together and trapping his hand. 

She needed him now. His fingers could only do so much and she was tired of clenching around nothing. 

Through the aftershock, Ahsoka refastened her pants while pretending to wipe her hands on the napkin bunched up in her lap. She looked up at Rex, who was still eating as if he hadn’t just given her an electrifying orgasm at the table. He shot her a wink and popped his fingers into his mouth as she recovered and surveyed the room. The Batch was still eating, none of them even slightly aware as to what had just occurred. 

Ahsoka, with her hunger for Rex slightly satiated, began to eat. She didn’t realize just how delicious Tech’s cooking was until now, finally able to focus on something other than the burning need within her. But as she continued, the desire only grew. Crossing her legs tightly at the ankles, Ahsoka’s impatience returned. Her eyes darted around the table at their hosts and then back to Rex, focused on the way his jaw flexed as he chewed and how small the fork looked in his hand…

Her mouth began to dry up and the tips of her lekku felt like they were vibrating. She placed a firm hand to the top of Rex’s thigh and looked at him with the small amount of focus she had left. Her eyes caught him off guard and he could tell just by the way her pupils had blown wide that her heat had consumed her. It didn’t typically happen this way…

“Where’s the refresher?” she asked the boys softly, her voice sounding far away. 

Echo pointed her past the living room, “There’s two. Ours is the one at the end of the hall and Omega’s is the first door on the right if you go up the stairs.”

Folding her napkin, Ahsoka pushed her chair out and met Rex’s eyes again before disappearing down the hall. He cleared his throat and finished his meal quickly before doing the same, “I actually need to go as well. This was fantastic. Thank you, boys.”

Sighing, Echo just shook his head and continued to eat. He was beyond ready for the freshness to wear off of their relationship. They can’t even get through a single meal without fucking!

Rex all but sprinted once he reached the hallway, seeing that Ahsoka had gone upstairs. He started to head that way but flicked the light on in the downstairs ‘fresher and slid the door closed before he did so. As he began to ascend the stairs, he saw Ahsoka sitting on a step near the top and was pressing herself into the wall. 

“Ahsoka,” he whispered, approaching her and bending at the knees to where she sat, “Are you alright? How bad is it?”

Her eyes and chevrons both were practically black, her skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat. “I need you now, Rex.”

Swallowing, Rex stood and then held his hand out, “C’mon the refresher is just up the stairs.”

She shook her head fervently, “I can’t go that far. It’s gonna have to be right here.”

Rex began to sweat again himself. Ahsoka needed him immediately, so much so that she’d sunken down onto the steps with her knees pressed together. He knelt down to her level again and placed a hand on the wall beside her head, “You’re gonna have to tell me if they’re coming. I can’t sense them like you can.”

Ahsoka’s montrals buzzed, pulsating with the intensity of her heat along with his acceptance of the location. They were sensitive with the height of her cycle — more alert than usual, but tuned into Rex rather than the world around her. “I’ll try my best.”

He nodded and so she parted her tightly clamped legs, the unfastened state of her pants working to make Rex harder than he already was. He went to slide his hand into her underwear, but her strong orange fingers caught his wrist. Her black eyes met his and he gulped. There was neither the need nor the time for any foreplay, he’d already toyed with her aching cunt at the table. She was ready. His face grew hot and he pushed forward anyway, getting a hold on the fabric of her soaked underwear and wrenching them down her legs. A gasp escaped her throat as he did so, and with his other hand Rex slid it under her rear lek and swallowed the noise, drinking her in and allowing her mouth to challenge his.

Deft fingers worked to wiggle her boot off so that she could slip one slender, feverish leg from her pants. Rex helped her while she expertly undid his pants, wasting no time in pulling his leaking cock free. How he had any cum left in him, neither of them knew. Ahsoka hummed as some of his precum dribbled from his throbbing head and she ducked to catch the liquid on her tongue, licking a stripe up the base of his length.

Her Captain ground his teeth and she knew if they were back on the Remora, that a growl would’ve accompanied it. Rex was no quiet man in the bedroom and this was definitely not the time to make any suspicious noises, but Ahsoka was determined to draw at least one sweet sound past his pretty lips. 

With one pants leg still on, Ahsoka scrambled into Rex’s lap. She took things much faster during her heats, leaving no room for a savory sink-down onto his thick, seeping cock. With his tip lined at her entrance, she was eager to sheath him fully inside of her, but Rex beat her to it, plunging his stiff length into her impatient pussy. Ahsoka threw her head back with the sensation, sighing in relief. It was like an itch that had finally been scratched. She brought one hand to cup her left breast and the other latched onto the step behind Rex’s head, using it to drive herself onto him at the exact rate that she needed. 

Rex bit down onto his tongue to keep from moaning. Her overeagerness for him never got old. Watching her ride him, pleasure herself, half dressed and uncaring of where they were sent him spiraling. He nipped at her neck and placed one hand on the clammy skin of her naked hip while the other wrapped around her right lek. 

Her mouth fell agape with the action and he caught her lips with his, swallowing her cries as he pumped the appendage in his fist. Ahsoka’s tempo only quickened, so much so that she began to lose her rhythm. Her face contorted in defeat, upset that she couldn’t regain her momentum. Rex grabbed hold of both of her hips and took over, raising her and lowering her at a relentless speed down onto his wet cock, pulling out right to where his tip tugged at her entrance before driving back into her. 

Placing a firm hand to the middle of her back, Rex stood with her still on his dick, causing her eyes to go wide before pressing her into the wall. He hoisted her up and brought her feet to settle on his hips. She bit her lip and covered her mouth as he plunged back into her, watching her hot cunt suck in every inch that she could. Attacking the soft spot under her jaw, Rex sucked at the skin as he fucked up into her, relishing in the way her juices began to run down his balls.

The spot that usually had her screaming his name was at better access in this position and Ahsoka’s face and curling toes told him he’d found it. She grabbed the stair rails and clenched around him, her muscles hugging his pulsing cock. Rex hissed as she came, shattering around him and bringing him into his own orgasm along with her. A broken moan fell past his lips and Ahsoka stiffened, placing a trembling finger between their mouths. 

Footsteps. 

“Hey, uh, guys? Is everything alright back here?” Wrecker’s voice came from below, along with his shadow. He was standing almost in front of the downstairs refresher, on the other side of the wall that hid the stairs and them from view. 

They were still joined at the hips, pants pushed down or halfway off. Rex indicated with his eyebrows that she’d be the one to have to answer because they’d all heard Ahsoka hurry up the stairs before he even left the table. That, and he was most definitely not in the ‘fresher that Wrecker stood in front of. 

Clearing her throat, Ahsoka spoke, “I’m not sure about Rex, but I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just—” She shook her head, trying to come up with an excuse. “I’m just washing my hands.”

They both winced. There was no water running. 

Wrecker hesitated, but chose to buy it, “Alright, well, come tag me when you’re done. I drank too much water.”

Ahsoka giggled as he walked away before settling on Rex’s features yet again. He was panting, pink lips parted, just purely in awe of her. Rex never failed to take her breath away. She scratched up the back of his head, making circles in his overgrown buzz cut. Rex bit his lip and nearly pulled out of her before she squeezed him again, begging for more. 

The blackness in her eyes hadn’t gone away. Not even a sneaky disappearance to the refresher could satisfy her burning need. It had never been this intense, but Rex wasn’t complaining. He thrust up into her again, his hands gripping her thighs with bruising force. Ahsoka mewled into his mouth and swiped her tongue over his bottom lip, driving him near insane as they chased yet another round of orgasms they shouldn’t be having. 

When they finally re-entered the kitchen, Wrecker ran to the ‘fresher. 

“Well, the sun’s getting higher. What do you say we all go down to the water for a swim?” Hunter suggested, propping his feet up on the table. 

Ahsoka panicked and looked at Rex. They certainly weren’t expecting to be asked to stay for lunch, much less past lunch. She was well beyond having any patience left. This was not only the peak of her heat cycle, but the most intense one she’s ever had in her life. She couldn’t have been any less interested in swimming. 

Her Captain understood this and answered on behalf of them both. “Thanks boys, but we should really be on our way to drop off the supplies we acquired on the mission. Tech, I can’t thank you enough for not just handing us ration bars. The food was delicious. Echo, we’ll see you in the next few weeks. Wrecker, tell Omega we hate that we missed her.”

“You guys aren’t actually leaving are you? You just got here!” Wrecker whined, handing his licked-clean plate to the stack that Echo was gathering. 

Tech was putting ingredients away and added, “We could at least fix your temperature regulator before you leave. But it will most likely be tomorrow before it’s repaired.”

He and Ahsoka looked between one another apprehensively before coming to some telepathic agreement. “Guess it couldn’t hurt,” Rex said, caving in and scratching the back of his head. He knew she was eager to pin him down inside the Remora, but he wouldn’t mind fucking in the air conditioning for a change. She may have a naturally cooler body temperature, but he sure didn’t and there was no way she was waiting until they were back at the garage to milk him dry again. “We don’t have to be back on Coruscant for another few rotations really. We’ll just have to let the boys know the schedule has changed.”

Wrecker threw his fist into the air, “Alright! You guys can take my room. My bed’s the biggest.” His face was smug as he crossed his arms, pleased with himself for both convincing them to stay longer and with his generous offer. The bed was big enough for them to share comfortably and neither one of them had to take the sofa! 

“Oh that’s alright, Wrecker, really. We have perfectly fine bunks on the Remora we can use,” Ahsoka hurriedly but politely declined. 

But budging wasn’t in the cards for their overjoyous host. “We’re not gonna let you sleep in that heat! Right, boys?”

The rest of the Batch looked anywhere but at Wrecker or their guests. Tech made a face before burying his rosy cheeks in doing the dishes and Echo coughed awkwardly. Hunter sighed, trying to find a way to backtrack on Wrecker's decision to offer up his bed, “Right. Well, we have the sofa as well, if you’d rather—”

“They can’t sleep on the couch, Hunter! I’ll take it. They’ve probably shared a cot out in the field before, right? This’ll be no different.”

Well, Wrecker wasn’t completely wrong. In the aftermath of the war, Rex and Ahsoka shared a cot or a blanket here and there. But their sleeping arrangements quickly became one instead of two, shedding more and more layers each time. One particularly cold night, their sleeping arrangement was forever shifted from being purely platonic. But if they were honest, it hadn’t been platonic for quite a while at that point. 

“Right,” Rex answered, nodding and averting his eyes, catching the button he’d missed in refastening his pants. 

Wrecker walked with them back to the Remora to help them haul their small bags back down to the oceanside villa. Despite Rex and Ahsoka’s protests telling him they could handle it on their own, Wrecker accompanied them anyway — primarily because he’d never been on the Remora before. He was very interested in where Echo spent his time away from them. 

Upon entering the ship, he made a comment about how clean it was and that the Marauder had never been this spotless; not even when it had been fresh off the assembly line. But that comment was quickly revoked when he stepped into Rex’s quarters. They’d passed Echo’s room as well and it was as impeccably clean as expected, but Wrecker never would’ve pegged Rex for being a messy clone.

Rex’s bed sheets were crumpled and half hanging onto the mattress; feathers and clothes were strewn all over the floor. Even the wall behind the headboard looked like it had been through a trash compactor, with scrapes and dents in the durasteel. And now that he looked closer, did Rex wear women’s underwear? “Kriffing hells, Rex, it looks like a family of rathtars has been through here,” Wrecker observed before chuckling, “You’ll feel right at home in my room!”

The Captain coughed and kicked something under the bed, fixing the sheets with haste before laughing nervously along with his brother. Taking Rex's overnight bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Wrecker stopped outside of Ahsoka’s bedroom across the hall and announced his presence, “Uh, Ahsoka, can I come in?”

“Of course,” she responded cheerily. 

He stepped through the doorway and took in the state of her quarters. Its cleanliness rivaled that of even Echo’s — almost like she didn’t even sleep in here or something. “Wow. Don’t show Echo how to tuck corners like these,” he chuckled, pointing to the edge of her bed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she laughed before closing a dresser drawer. She attempted to put her arms through the straps of her bag before Wrecker put one hand on his hip and held the other hand out. Reluctantly, Ahsoka let him do the carrying. 

The walk back down to the home was quite odd. Wrecker led the way and kept trying to make conversation, pointing out the homes of his friends and describing, in detail, the meals he’s had at their homes. But Rex and Ahsoka couldn’t keep up. He kept having to stop every few houses to wait for them to catch up with him. At one point, he could’ve sworn Ahsoka had her hand under the Captain’s shirt, but he chalked it up to his one good eye playing tricks on him. Mirages from the heat is the answer he eventually settled on, at least that’s what he thought he’d heard Tech call those things. 

Rex and Ahsoka took a suspiciously long time to put their swimming gear on as well. Wrecker looked around at his brothers and was beginning to wonder if Rex had squeezed himself into some sort of wetsuit instead of swim trunks. Or maybe he and Ahsoka were just taking turns changing inside the upstairs refresher while Hunter used the downstairs one. He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, growing steadily more impatient. 

“Careful, Wrecker. We’re trying not to conduct more heat in the house,” Tech warned, finding annoyance in Wrecker’s inability to sit still.

But his brother just threw his head back and whined, “What’s taking them so long? I’m ready to get in the water!”

Hunter coughed as he returned, opting to tie his hair up before he let on anything about what he sensed going on inside Omega’s refresher. He remained as close as possible to the front door to evade the smell of desperate, needy, heat-induced sex. 

“You don’t have to wait on them, you know. Go ahead and go down there and we’ll—” Echo began before their guests reappeared. Ahsoka subtly wiped at the inside of her thigh and smiled abashedly at their hosts. 

They were both still sweating for some odd reason, so Wrecker was glad to see that his ori’vod didn’t try to fit into something other than swim trunks. “There you guys are. I was starting to think you got lost in there,” he laughed, punching his brother playfully hard on the shoulder, “Oh, Rex, did you fall or something? What’s on your neck?”

Rex immediately clapped a hand over the exposed skin, hiding the fresh bruise from view, “Oh, uh yeah. I ran into… that uh, fell…”

He looked to Ahsoka for a rescue, but her eyes had gone wide too, not to mention she was just about as bad at lying as he was. She stammered with him as they tried to come up with an excuse when Wrecker unknowingly did the saving for them. “Was it the beach umbrella in the refresher? Sorry ‘bout that, I was tearing my room apart looking for it,” he apologized, making his way upstairs to retrieve it.

From the emptiness of the houses as the group walked past, it seemed all of Pabu had the same idea. This heat that was present at this time of day was only bearable when one was submerged in the water. Nearly all the residents of the small island littered the area, swimming in the ocean or eating packed lunches underneath umbrellas. Even Omega and Lyana were huddled under a large pink one, drinking iced moogan teas and sitting near an oversized fan that Shep had set up for them

Ahsoka and Rex were the first to get into the water, itching to quell an entirely different heat than the one everyone else was experiencing. As soon as they waded in, Ahsoka couldn’t be pried from Rex. Sneaky hands reached for his waistband under the water to untie his ties. She rocked herself back and forth on his thigh, not caring that every resident of Pabu was in sight. In no time, they found a less populated and shady cove to disappear in — somewhere Ahsoka could push Rex’s trunks window open and her swimsuit aside and sink her aching core down onto his thick length. 

Her skin glistened in the water and her lekku floated around her, not too dissimilar from how she looked when they made love in the sonic. But kark if this wasn’t a heat remedy Rex decided they’d definitely be doing again. The cool water helped to satiate her burning need some, quelling the intensity back down to something that would normally be a wild romp between them when she wasn’t experiencing a heat. 

Rex cradled her face in his hand, swiping the water on her face to keep her cool. She was gorgeous and glowing and he even saw a bit of blue return to her tired eyes. Lazily, Ahsoka bounced herself on his swollen dick, holding onto his shoulders for purchase while he aided her in keeping upright. 

Tech carefully adjusted their umbrella and sat himself in the shade after applying copious amounts of sunblock. Hunter reapplied Omega’s and sent her back off running with Wrecker into the water. “You’re still not going out there, huh?” Hunter asked.

“I do not see the appeal of sharing the same body of water with so many people at one time,” Tech reasoned. 

“If I didn’t know you grew up on Kamino, I’d start to think you didn’t know how to swim,” his brother tossed back. 

Tech then elaborated, “The idea of so many bodily fluids being swapped does not sound like my idea of fun. You and I both know that Wrecker cannot hold it for that long. He’s had yet to use the refresher out here for the past two weeks, I might add. Besides, I’m sure our guests are busy somewhere expelling sexual fluids since I added a small dose of a certain cooking spice to our meal earlier.”

“You did what?!” Hunter exclaimed in a hushed voice, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Tech shrugged his shoulders, “Ahsoka arrived and I wanted to know more about her species. Did you know that Togruta are not supposed to sweat? They have naturally cool skin, yet she has been sweating since her arrival. She is very clearly at the peak of her mating cycle.”

“Tech!” Hunter scolded. 

“What? Do not tell me you did not smell it on her and the Captain both the moment they walked through our door. I figured if anyone, you’d be the first to pick up on the fact that they’ve been engaging in considerable amounts of coital activity. Not to worry, it should be wearing off soon.”

“Tech she’s a person and our guest! Not your little experiment! It was not your place to make that call,” Hunter spat, “Let me see that article.” The datapad was then passed to Hunter, who had to move himself under the shade of the umbrella to read the screen properly. Everything Tech said was true until he got down to the remedies. High amounts of sexual intercourse, lekku stimulation, certain cooking spices added to foods. “Tech, we don’t have any of these spices, this says—”

Kriffing hells. His eyes landed on the last item. That spice they did have in the kitchen. “What you used wasn’t a remedy, it’s an aphrodisiac! You only worsened her symptoms, not improved them! When Wrecker’s bed snaps in two and Rex’s dick falls off, I’ll be the first to let them know who they have to blame. ”

Wrecker watched his two brothers argue under the umbrella while he and Echo gave each other knowing looks. Omega and Lyana were on their shoulders, blissfully unaware and playing a game of nuna. “What do you think they’re arguing about this time?” he asked.

Echo grunted as Lyana nearly wrestled him and Omega down into the water, “A few ideas come to mind. But what I’m more concerned with is how unfair this game is. No way Omega and I are going to get you and Lyana under.”

“Hey!” Omega said above him, “Thanks for having confidence in me!”

“Well, where’s Rex and Ahsoka? They could take our places and give Ahsoka the chance to meet Omega!”

“I don’t know where they are and I don’t think we want to know.”

Wrecker laughed as Echo nearly toppled over, “Maybe they’re off playing their own game of nuna.”

Echo scoffed, “Yeah, something like that.”

Even when Phee had come over for dinner, Rex and Ahsoka were inseparable. They were not at all bothered with the fact that it left one less chair at the table. In fact, Ahsoka was more than happy to hop into Rex’s lap and sit there instead. Time in the water, it seemed, had only temporarily extinguished the ache in her core brought on by both her heat and Tech’s cooking. 

After swimming, Lyana had begged for Omega to stay over another night at her house and Hunter gladly agreed, grateful to have her out of the house. He glowered at Tech through the entirety of the meal. 

Echo looked between his brothers sourly, finally having gotten the full scoop as to what exactly was happening with his former Commander. It really was just his luck again. He shared a wall with Wrecker inside the villa and was in for yet another sleepless night with Rex and Ahsoka occupying the room. 

He sulked into his thinly sliced bread and pretended not to notice how much they were moving in the seat that they shared. He chuckled to himself, thinking if he called them out on it that they’d come up with some flimsy excuse about still feeling like they were in the water. 

But the joke was on him once the lights started to switch off and everyone retreated to their rooms. 

Wrecker settled on the couch with nothing but his boxer shorts covered in pink Pabu flowers and a thin blanket after bidding Rex and Ahsoka a goodnight, which they were very rushed about. 

“Rex,” Ahsoka sighed his name as the door slid shut. He pulled her into him, claiming her mouth with his own and already tugging off the clothes she still had on. Wrecker had spent too long attempting to clean up his room and trying but failing to find his Lula, when all they needed was a clear bed. 

Already latched around his waist, Rex carried Ahsoka to the bunk, kneading her ass as she grinded against his bulge. She found the seam of his pants and pressed her swollen clit to the fabric, desperate for the friction. 

Her back hit the mattress and she was quick to raise up and rid Rex of his pants while he took care of his shirt. Frantic orange fingers palmed his cock through the wet spot she’d created on them, making him hiss before she finally released him from the confines. His cock sprung free, slapping against his stomach all weeping and angry. Ahsoka took him into her mouth, wrapping her plump lips around him and putting him in the pocket of her cheek while she massaged his taut balls. 

Rex let out a guttural growl and thrust into her mouth once before backing away, pulling himself from Ahsoka’s mouth with a pop. A trail of saliva connected her lips to his cock and she leaned towards the head and kissed, nuzzling his wet length and leaving her chin shining under the light of the lamp. Rex’s own eyes finally matched hers, black and consumed with her demanding heat. Grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her to the edge of the mattress and teased her folds with his full length, coating himself in her excessive amount of arousal. 

Whining, Ahsoka bucked her hips, needing to feel him inside of her. Rex then threw both of her legs over his shoulders and lined himself up with her waiting hole, quickly bottoming out inside of her and in utter awe as her eager pussy swallowed his cock and adjusted to the girth. 

Ahsoka squeaked when he couldn’t go any further, gripping the sheets on either side of her and relishing in how full she was. She moaned and bit her lip, giggling as she rocked her hips from side to side. His hips then slammed against hers with vigor, soaking his entire dick in her wet heat. With one hand, he rubbed at the tip of one of her montrals and with the other, he rolled the peak of a nipple between two fingers, drawing the sweetest noises past her lips. 

Her pussy began to make smacking sounds as Rex’s thick cockhead dragged through the ridges of her trembling walls. “That feel good?” he asked, his voice gravelly and at a lower register than normal. He already knew the answer. 

Ahsoka’s eyes fluttered and she answered him, mishearing his question, “Yes you do.”

He laughed beside her montral and dragged his teeth lightly over the curve of it, eliciting a string of expletives from Ahsoka’s mouth. She arched her back at the added sensation and gave him better access to her drooling cunt. Rex groaned and kept her ass elevated off the mattress, pounding into her messy hole. He pressed a kiss to each of the calves resting across his collarbones and watched as a smile formed on her lips, twinkling blue eyes looking up at him through her lashes. “Mesh’la,” he whispered into her hot skin. 

Mewling, Ahsoka extended her arms behind her head and pressed into the wall, giving her more control to feel each of Rex’s thrusts. She bit her lip and could barely smile with the audible sounds of pleasure passing through her mouth. Her entire body was rippling with waves of electricity, the familiar coil in the pit of her stomach tightening. 

She clenched around his dick and Rex’s knees nearly buckled. “Kriff, Ahsoka,” he whispered, voice strained and hoarse. Placing one foot on the mattress, Rex continued his motions, drawing a strangled moan from Ahsoka. She grabbed one of her breasts, pinning it down and rolling a nipple between her fingers while the other one bounced freely. Rex panted above her, watching her writhe beneath him and chant his name softly under her breath. 

He could feel his balls begin to tighten impossibly further and his dick grow heavier, but kark if he wasn’t going to hold out until he could wring one last orgasm from her. One of his hands took hold of her other breast while the other dove lower, finding her throbbing clit with his thumb. Ahsoka clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her own cries, babbling as Rex’s fingers expertly worked her sensitive points. 

“Rex,” she sobbed over and over past her hand, his name coming out more so as moans rather than coherent words. 

He whimpered, gasping for breath, “Force, ‘Soka.”

Her cunt fluttered around him, legs shaking as she came, her orgasm rippling through her body and lighting her on fire. Rex groaned, unable to stifle it with the way her heat clenched and spasmed around him. Thrusting deeply inside of her, he painted the walls of her pussy with hot ropes of cum, nearly falling forward with the way she milked him. 

They both gasped, dragging air into their spent lungs, groaning and laughing as they caught their breath. Rex leaned in and kissed her gently, pulling out and noticing their combined cream at the base of his cock as he whispered sweet nothings into her montral.

Ahsoka whined at the loss of him, the feeling of being so full replaced with emptiness. 

Rex collapsed beside her on the bed, peppering kisses to her lekku and face. She hummed softly and giggled, kissing his neck and allowing her hands to wander. His chest vibrated with amusement, catching her wrists and gathering them in a single hand. “Let me catch my breath, cyare. We can go again in a minute,” he breathed, the corners of his lips turning up. “For now, let’s clean you up.”

He reached down and hooked his hand behind her knee and raised it. Warm cum dribbled out of her spent hole, coating her thighs and threatening to stain onto the sheets below them. 

“We made a mess,” he rasped, biting his lip and reaching for the drawers below the bunk. Surely Wrecker had a rag of sorts for situations like these. His fingers landed on something soft and he pulled it out of the drawer, finding that he was holding a red and black stuffed tooka. 

Ahsoka cooed, making a face. “Rex, you’ll have to clean that up if you use it.”

His eyes were locked with hers, already leaning in to capture her lips, “Don’t worry, I’ll wash it off.”

She moaned as his mouth met hers, kissing her passionately as he brought the plush tooka between her legs, wiping up their combined juices. Ahsoka jerked as pressure was applied, the fabric rubbing against her clit and sending another round of shivers up her spine. Rex was quick to swallow her gasps and smile against her lips, tossing the tooka aside and inserting two of his fingers inside of her creamy cunt. 

Wrecker sighed yet again, loudly and to purposefully get someone’s attention. 

“I did suggest wearing more clothes to bed,” Tech pointed, “This is no one’s fault but your own.”

Clutching the thin blanket further around his body, Wrecker pouted, “You guys could turn the air down some.” Three resounding “no’s” stringing together, making Wrecking grumble further. 

Rex and Ahsoka had finally gone. They once again had an operational temperature regulator and had all but run to the Remora as they walked out of the front door. Wrecker finally had access to his room again and hurried to put his blacks back on to retain some bit of body warmth. 

Echo was already on his way back to his quarters as well, declining a cup of caf as he trudged down the hall to get some actual sleep. The sound of the headboard bumping into the wall and horribly hushed moans kept him awake through the night and into the morning. He wasn’t at all surprised when Rex and Ahsoka both declined breakfast. They’d already had each other instead. 

And Tech, who was trying desperately to hide himself in his datapad, couldn’t escape the stares from Hunter, who opened his mouth to say something when a shrill cry came from Wrecker’s room. 

“Please! I’ve already heard enough of that!” Echo’s muffled pleading came from the other side of the wall. 

Hunter was at Wrecker’s door in seconds. “Wrecker? What is it?”

He was crouched and looking inside a drawer under his bunk. He’d plucked his Lula up by one of her horns with two fingers and a horrified expression plastered across his face. 

“Oh, Wrecker… I- I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Hunter warned. 

“What is all this stuff?” Wrecker asked, inspecting the white, hardened substance on Lula’s face and body. 

Tech appeared beside Hunter. “What did— Oh. Wrecker, he did tell you not to touch that. I would listen to him if I were you.”

“Someone just tell me what‘s on my Lula!” he cried, making a move to poke at it with his index finger. 

Sighing, Tech explained, “Do you not remember what you used to do with your socks back on Kamino? And Echo, the one and only time he ever cleaned our room, found them under your bunk? Well… this is what happens when that dries up.”

[coralsgrimes]

aubrey’s pinterest has wedding dresses

Yeah but it dates back like short of a year and he be up to a lot in that time.

So I'd say it's just her natural state of mind and getting prepped since she is a remora on an active lookout lol

Last holidays he was on his little hot Christmas vaccay and there might have been that boomerang chick who really liked DM with him. Then in January he was partying again with twin flame and her bunch AND listening to Rayana sing lol. Next month he was enjoying the Powell girlies attention and then some time later on memorial day he was splashing water in the pool on fairy queen and then there was that concert Darren Criss meetup chick too - roughly at the same time the remora was in Mexico at what I believe was her friend's wedding so maybe that's what the wedding dresses are about.

Soooo if we take 5/6 months to the current remora big love, then like honestly he either has them on rotation or lined up to go from one to another cuz they kinda be overlapping (which happened before in his earlier days too) the current remora with the concert chick at the very least. Here's yer gentleman of the year everybody he's just missing the I'm a feminist tee and that young wife he always dreamt of...

Also a conspiracy, they did in fact meet through the Powell girlies repertoire AND since she's such a renaissance woman doing everything from nothing to apparently working for daddy to losing on American Idol to interior design to animal feed catalogue photos to social media and communication to try and appear relevant nobody AND she happens to be Benny Boy favourite mannequin personality, then he was like awesome we have so much in common - ye redo me bedroom and I will hide our possible relationship so the five fangiriles I have left still think I will want them or something lol

The previous nonnie said last November when they might have met but maybe THAT was too excessive, maybe it was only Feb/March more likely when they actually hit it hit it more and it went really fucking fast then from like May/June?

[safehavenscomic]

WATERWORLD

The travelers are acclimating to life as aquatic creatures, becoming at home in this new environment. Still they insist on having no intention of making this permanent, following the example of Thomas. Even being married to a mermaid, he wants to remain primarily on land.

This greatly annoys the merfolk community who long expected him to convert as so many others have in the past. They regard his stance as a rejection of all of them.

They also blame Remora for being a lousy recruiter. It’s not her fault; humans are just complicated.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

@storm-ismyusername

Wow okay. 900 slightly tipsy words about my fankid OCs under the cut.

1 - Thank you! Might redo her hair to look less like dreds/braids. They're meant to be sort of like fins or tentacles, so I might do a similar thing to Tom where there's only two distinct sections.

1.5 - The tie is meant to resemble the pattern on a remora's tail. It's kind of hard to communicate what type of fish the two of them are supposed to be while keeping them mostly humanoid, so I try to show it through clothing patterns (the same applies to Sarah: pilot fish have black and white stripes).

2 - Sarah... had a rough time in her 20s. She was struggling to cope with all the bad shit in her life and just started spiraling. She'd do anything in order to feel like she had a place in the world: partying, drugs, sex, and yes, eventually the cult. She thinks she's in Hell for an abortion she had, but that's not actually the case. If you asked a representative of Heaven, they'd probably say her sin was gluttony (or maybe sloth), but Heaven has a bad habit of rejecting people simply for having unhealthy coping mechanisms.

3 - Not sure. This is more just meant as a fun AU where I let my OCs interact with Vox in Hell, but eh, it could get RAMy.

3.5 - See, there are a two different avenues for this AU. There’s one where Tom and Sarah die as children, end up in Hell for Some Reason (I legit have no idea why, but some kids do get sent to Hell based off those children we see in Cannibal Town), Vox finds them and keeps them in a literal fish tank in the tower in order to "protect them.” In the other one, they die as adults, seek him out, and he allows actually allows them some freedom of mobility.

4 - I feel like Vox would try to keep his kids as far away from Val as possible because Val would 100% try to sleep with them, just for the meme. Val makes Sarah and Tom incredibly uncomfortable because "my neglectful, traditionalist, All-American dad is bisexual and dating a proud rapist who also wants to sleep with me just for laughs" is kind of a lot for anyone to deal with. Not sure about Velvette; this idea is very fresh in my mind and I'm a little bit tipsy right now. Velvette would probably think Sarah's a drip and a crybaby though.

5 - Not sure if their mom predeceases or outlives them in this AU. Either way, Martha/Helen (reconsidering her name) is smart enough to know that rolling up to Vee Tower or making herself known to Vox at all will only end badly for her, so she keeps her distance. Tom might go looking for her (he really loved her, which is part of the reason why he's so resentful of his dad), but she doesn't want to be found.

6 - Tom and Sarah arrive in Hell after Vox and Alastor have fallen out (and possibly before Vox even meets Valentino). Al learns of their existence through the grapevine. He finds the idea of trying to hurt Vox through his children dishonorable and slightly insulting to his abilities, so he leaves them be.

6.5 - Under RAM circumstances? Maybe. It's easier for him to write off Valentino and Velvette's suffering as irrelevant or deserved as opposed to the suffering of child dealing with a severely mentally ill parent.

7 - Yeah, she would. Sarah never really adjusts to Hell; she's just not the type of person who can distance herself from her humanity enough to thrive there. If her dad wasn't an Overlord, she'd be permadead or in stuck in some horrible situation 100 times over. She loves her dad and brother deeply, but she's just so unhappy, even if she feels like she deserves to be there.

8 & 9 - Shgfgbhnjhbg. The Hazbin Hotel has three (3) patrons: Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, and this sad little "mafia" princess who genuinely wants to get into Heaven (and who is singlehandedly keeping her dad from trying to blow up the hotel (although, the second he becomes aware Alastor's also staying there, Vox probably forces her to come back home)).

10 - They've always been very close. Their parents were always too wrapped up in their own shit to pay them much mind, so they sort of had to look out for each other as kids. They used to sit at the top of the stairs while their parents screamed at each other, Tommy holding Sarah as she cried. When Sarah started spiraling in her 20s, Tom tried his best to pull her back from the brink, even though he could've easily just left her to her own devices and focused on his career. They stay relatively close even as adults and elders; no matter what happens, they know they can rely on each other. Their personalities and paths in life are very different– Sarah's this wet kitten of a person while Tom's always taken after Vox (even though he'd be loathe to admit it)– but they've been through so much together that it doesn't really matter anymore. In the normal route where they die in their 80s, Sarah remains in denial about Tom being kind of a shitty person until they're separated by Heaven and Hell. He was always so good to her, she can't bring herself to believe he's truly callous or corrupt at his core.

Also, here's what they looked like as 20-somethings in the Sims

I finished drawing Vox's family! Can't quite decide if I prefer the more remora-accurate colors for Thomas or the blue look to keep him more in line with Vox and Sarah.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXIV: Uprooted

I

As soon as they arrived, I knew something was up. I just didn’t know what. There was also the gut feeling that it had nothing to do with the ones I stayed with. Although that bit, I didn’t have an explanation for.

I went around back and took cover behind Juniper’s workshop. Once the opportunity presented itself and I knew the armed foes weren’t looking my way, I dove into the tall grass, using its thick growth as a cover. Soon, I drew close to the first one; he looked around, off to the side, and seeing it as the perfect opportunity, I leapt forward and flung myself at him. He took a step back, taken by surprise, and tried to fight back, but I tore off his helmet and plunged my knife into his forehead, then kicked myself off of him and landed back on the ground. He let out a scream, and I was sent into a panic as the others were alerted.

No, scratch that. I used the commotion to my advantage.

As they drew near, I grabbed the first fallen foe’s weapon and ducked down. Through the thickets, I caught a glimpse of one of them. I sniped at their leg, and another scream emitted. The other fired a barrage of shells, but I had already swerved around and used the back of the machine gun I held onto and rammed it in the back of the guy’s head. The one next to him was right beside me, alert and ready to shoot. That should have been the end of me.

Instead, I shot into the side of his stomach and knocked him down as well. Soon after, there was only one other to deal with: whoever happened to be in that armored van.

“Looks like you got her. Good job,” a voice over static emitted. Oh joy.

His mood soon changed to fright as I opened the passenger side door.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” I delivered the message, then threw the helmet down on the floor of the vehicle. “Which would you rather hear first?” “Um, bad news?” He squeaked, then slithered against the door of the car. He was some scrawny looking man, dirty blonde, messy. Beat up T-shirt. Braces. Yes, braces. Despite that, he looked to be in his 30s or 40s.

“The bad news is that you didn’t ‘get her’,” I stated. “However, there’s plenty of good news: first off, I may have only killed one of them. The others are unconscious. Second, I may let you live if you work for me instead.”

“Excuse me?” He balked. “Do you know how much they’re –”

“I’ll pay you double,” I interrupted.

“Do you even have the money?!”

I shook my head.

“Not right now,” I looked outside, back toward the house. “Tell me, who was your target?”

Before he could answer, his phone rang. I gestured for him to hand it to me.

“Hey Weatherboy. Don’t mind me, I’m just checking in. You know, I hear the skies are going to clear up soon. I can’t wait to lay out on the beach with my tan and maybe a few crabs pinching me. But enough about me, how goes the hunt? Did you and the men I rented out to you kill Demetria?” He didn’t sound pleasant so much as he did snake-like. However, I was willing to be that his hiss was worse than any bite of his.

My name. So I was the target. But why? Not only that, how did they know my name?

“It’s done,” I replied in a low and monotone voice.

“Ooh? Is this who I think it is?” The delight in his voice grew. “You really are your money’s worth. Tell you what: how about you come to back to my headquarters and we can have a nice, friendly discussion?”

It could have been a trap. I didn’t care.

“See you there,” I replied, then hung up the phone and threw it back to ‘Weatherboy’ over there.

I glanced over to him. He didn’t seem at all threatening, but he could drive, so he could prove useful.

“How much is your boss paying you?” I asked.

“One-hundred thousand,” he answered.

I could use that money as well. Oh well, I wasn’t interested in money.

“Fine. I’ll make it two-hundred thousand.”

“How are you going to get that money?” He questioned. Doubtful as ever, I see.

“Simple: we’ll take it from your boss.”

“Simple?! We?!”

Once again, I looked over to the house. I never wanted any of what transpired to happen. There were many questions I would make sure were answered soon enough.

“Fine. But only because I need the money,” he changed his soon only a second later.

“Good. First, let’s get these bodies in the back of the van. I don’t want them littering my cousin’s home.”

We dragged them back. He complained, though, because of course he did.

“This was supposed to be one simple job,” he grumbled. “Just ‘one little girl’ they said.”

I ignored it. He was allowed to be in a sour mood. I couldn’t hold that against him.

As I dragged the last one back, Ves stormed out of the house, furious. What was said, I didn’t wish to recall. There were no words, and to see her in so much pain...it tore at me. But I didn’t dare show it. Seeing that only solidified my resolve.

Moving on, I sifted through Weatherboy’s glove compartment, pulled out a notepad as well as a fountain pen.

“Can your boss hear us?” I wrote down and showed him what I wrote. He raised an eyebrow, then looked at me.

“No, it’s not wired. If you thought it could have been, why would you even say all those things?”

Ugh. If there was one thing I hated, it was pointing out flaws in my thought process.

“Never mind that,” I dismissed him. “Tell me, Weatherboy, what’s your specialty?”

“Okay, first off, ‘Weatherboy’ is just a code name. If we’re going to work together, call me by my actual name, Wheaty. Second of all, I’m sort of a freelance hacker-slash-surveillance. I can control things remotely, tap into any computer. Not to toot my own horn.”

Wow. I hit the jackpot. OK. I can use this.

We soon rode off, into whatever hostile destination I would soon find myself in. I sat in the back, next to the bodies of the men who drove my cousin’s wife into such sorrow. None of them could wake up and grab me, as they had been heavily sedated.

Part of me was tempted to use the car ride as a means of falling asleep, as I sure knew I needed the rest. But I resisted, both because I needed to be alert so I could plan on my way there, and also because of the nightmares I’ve had recently. No, I didn’t want to get into what they were about. I was sick of flashbacks.

On the paper, I wrote down, then handed him the sheet of paper:

“What’s the layout of this place like?”

“You know, you don’t have to write everything down. I already told you my van’s not being tapped.”

Irritated, I wrote down:

“It’s easier this way.”

He sighed. Just as, if not more, annoyed than I was. Or maybe annoyed with the situation. It could have been both, and like I said, I couldn’t blame him for that.

“OK. So it’s solid white all around. Just a straight corridor. Two floors, one of them full of small rooms. I’m guessing the place used to be one of those private prisons until the boss bought it out and repurposed it. Those guys he sent? They were mere grunts. Who you’re going to meet inside will be much tougher. Can’t just be stabbed or beat over the side of the head. Next, there’s hidden turrets on the floor which will pop out when there’s an intruder. Boss might just want to lure you there, then spring the turrets out as some sort of example. Last, there’s walls which can shoot up from the floor as well. Those are there mainly to trap enemies in, or to protect themselves.”

Hostile architecture. What a load of junk. Figures. You get what you pay for.

“Next question,” I wrote down, “Why was I targeted and how did you find me?”

“Sorry, I don’t know the answer to the first one. I’m guessing these guys just get assignments and aren’t told the ‘why’, just the necessary details. As for how I found you, you were listed as ‘Demisexual’ but I was able to do a little digging. Found school records that matched your appearance. Then I tracked your phone and it brought me to that place. I thought you must have known you were targeted, so you retreated to some place remote.”

Wrong. If I had known, I never would have put Juniper and Ves in danger like that.

There were other thoughts, too, like if they know all this information about me, what’s to stop them from putting other members of my family in danger?

Such a thought was sickening, and I still didn’t know the details, but I cursed myself for being so careless.

I couldn’t dwell on such things. It wasn’t the time. What mattered more was making sure I was as prepared as I could be for whatever was about to come.

“I know you said this van isn’t being monitored, but do you have any means of communication once I’m inside?” I wrote down and showed him the paper.

He hummed and mulled it over, then came to an answer.

“That’s going to be tricky. It’s got sensors, not to mention that any unauthorized radio signals are blocked. But...I’ve got a solution,” he then reached back and handed me a pair of contact lenses. I was confused, but took them anyway. Hell, I probably needed them given that my glasses were left at my cousin’s house.

“Yeah, yeah. I know most communication devices are ear pieces, but those would be too obvious. With this, I can track where you are from the inside, plus we can communicate. Not only that, but it emits a low enough frequency that it should go undetected. However, it would still be tricky, as they’re likely to notice something’s up the second you tell me something. So you’d have to find the right opportunity.”

I smiled. Not that I was really in a good mood, but I just couldn’t help but marvel at how well things were lining up. At once, I put the contacts in (really, I didn’t know how I managed such a feat with those guys in the fields, considering how weak my vision must have been) and thought it over.

That just means you’ll have to work fast, Weatherboy.

“We’ll use code words,” I wrote down, and listed my plan.

He then seemed hesitant.

“Are you sure about all of this?” He asked after a quite audible gulp.

I nodded. There was no question.

For the remainder of the ride, I was silent. There was nothing more than needed to be said. Any more to say than necessary would have just been a bother. Sure, there was the issue of my knife. If there was anything like metal detectors, that might have been a problem. But I couldn’t prepare for everything. I’d just have to do my best with the resources available.

“Well,” his voice oozed dread. He was even less confident now that when we were on the road, “we’re here.”

He announced just a few hours after we had departed. From that, I could infer that this headquarters wasn’t all that far from where my cousins lived. That was even more worrisome.

I jolted up. Against my better judgment, I must have dozed off near the end. Those guys who shared the space with me were still sound asleep. Good.

“So,” I yawned as I opened my mouth to speak. It sounded foreign. “I’m going in alone. See you in a bit.”

“Be careful,” he urged. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was genuine concern. How odd considering that not only did we just meet, but he also was tasked with taking my life not too long ago.

It really did look like it used to be a prison complex. It had its own barbed wire fence and gate, as well as a barren dirt field both in the front and back of it. To my surprise, I entered without any such greeting. I expected armed guards out front. I also expected to be escorted once inside. That didn’t come either.

How careless of them. Either they’re overconfident or just stupid. Either way, I shouldn’t complain.

Inside was pristine marble. Sterile, like a dentist’s office. But longer and more haunting in its uniform nature. Up above was the second floor, just as I had been told, along with many cell doors. Really, they couldn’t even be bothered to refurbish the cells and turn them into decent room spaces? How lame.

Further down the narrow corridor, I spotted him: a wide balding man in a tuxedo with a monocle and heavy grin. He looked like his name would have been Igor or something. He sure had a wicked smile. Seated at a desk in the back with a computer to his side, he had his hands folded. Beside him were several, not just two, three, or four, but well over a dozen armed men in heavy metal armor and helmets that didn’t seem so easily removable.

Real deal, huh? We’ll see.

I approached his desk, looked down at the man who seemed just like a caricature of a capitalist pig.

“Greetings, greetings,” he announced, jovial and repulsive.

He wants to act all friendly. Well, I’ll put on a show for him, then.

“Oh wow, what is this place?” I looked around and did my best to sound astonished.

“You like it?” He flashed me a grin. “It’s still a little under construction, as you can tell. Soon we hope to be one of the greatest organizations in the world. We’re known as Custodians United Notorious Technicians. We specialize in taking jobs requested to us by powerful individuals. Oftentimes we clean up the messes that others would regrettably make. Well, I say ‘we’, but I only hand out the contracts. Everyone else does the work,” he worked up an obnoxious laugh with tons of snorting.

Wow, what a –

“You know, you should really consider changing the name of your group. Just saying,” I pointed out.

“Why? Oh, never mind. We’re not here to argue semantics, are we?”

“No,” I smiled back, “I suppose we aren’t. I’d like to know instead why it is you sent people to kill me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m just your average girl in her mid-twenties and trying to find her place in the world. You know, typical coming of age story, except I’m already an adult. But hey, I’m totally aimless.”

He laughed his obnoxious laugh once again.

“Well, I don’t know about that ‘average’ part. We were certainly thinking so. You see, the man who ordered the hit on you said you’d be an easy job. However, he also seemed to want to kill you for quite petty reasons.”

“Excuse me? A man wanted to hit on me? Did you tell him I’m not interested.”

I heard a snicker from one of the armed men. How unprofessional. As high-spirited as the boss was, he ignored my comment.

“Our first attempt was supposed to be much more discrete. We sent someone to shoot a deadly poison dart at you, but apparently it was intercepted and the one we sent ended up being killed by someone else instead.”

That dinner date. So that’s what it was. I was the target.

He continued.

“Now, as you know, our goal was to kill you, but after taking care of some of my men, I’ve got a different offer for you: you can join us instead, and your sole mission will be to kill a certain individual. After that, you will be free to go on about your life.”

“Gee, mister, I don’t know about that one. I’m kind of a pacifist, you see,” maybe I should have considered his offer. But I was already set on my own mission.

“Quit playing dumb,” he scolded. Jeez, not so cheerful now.

I shrugged.

“All right. Who’s the target?”

“You mean you’ll accept?” He tilted his head.

“No. I just want to know who you have in mind.”

He twirled his sausage fingers and looked ever so delighted.

“You see, when we made that first attempt on you, a witness described who you were with, her mannerisms, and then our interest soon changed.”

“Hey,” I scolded right back, “who a lady goes out with is none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is. You see, we couldn’t believe it ourselves. Are you familiar with Rhea Flection? She used to be a member of the group which inspired ours, and she had quite the reputation. Her final mission ended in her death, or so it should have. It would appear that not only is she alive, but you know her. So while we admire all the work that she’s done...we want her out of the picture. She was part of an old era, and it’s time for a new generation to take up the business.”

Of course. It always comes back to Remora. I could never escape it.

“So, what do you say?” He leaned in and asked.

What do I say...what do I say…

Rather than dignify his question, I burst into laughter.

“Who?” I shot back.

“You know who. You were with her. It would seem you have some interest in her.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

“You mean Rhea Perlman? Danny DeVito’s wife? I don’t know why you brought her up, but I don’t like her as much as Danny DeVito. I get what you’re thinking: she’s a woman, so I should like her, right, just ‘cause she’s a woman? I mean, I do like women, and women are neat. They’re just so…women,” I was getting a little ahead of myself. That’s okay. That little distraction should have been enough to give Weatherboy all the time he needed. “But really, Danny DeVito’s my favorite. Like, oh my god. I’ve got the biggest celebrity crush on him. Have you seen that hunk of man? Everyone always thinks that Matilda was his best movie, but I’d argue Junior was his magnum opus. I mean, how do you top it? Such cinematic brilliance. But really, he’s just the type of actor who can make anything he stars in great, just by being in it.”

“What...what are you going on about?” He sat, baffled at my rant. Little did he know that ‘Danny DeVito’ was one of the code words.

“You’re really not making this easy for me,” Weatherboy complained.

“Oh, come on. It’s no secret that I’m known as Danny DeVito’s #1 fan. If you did a little more research about me, you would’ve known that. Hell, it’s probably on my profile you’ve got on me.”

With that, he gave a suspicious look and turned to his computer. Once he gave a good look, his eyes grew wide, then he turned to a look of pure rage.

“What’s going on? All of your information’s changed! It says your name is ‘Danielle DeVito’, your address is somewhere in New Jersey, and your age is 69.”

I had to stifle back another laugh. Out of all the things he could have changed my info to…

It doesn’t really matter, though. It’s less about what it says and more about what it no longer says.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I’ve got your information backed up.”

He scrolled on his computer and although I couldn’t see the screen, I didn’t have to. Soon he growled in frustration, and I knew whatever dirt he had on me was long gone.

“What the –”

“Tsk, tsk,” I sneered at him, “you should really protect your files better.”

It went without saying that ‘protect’ was another code word.

“Deploying the walls now,” I heard Wheaty’s little voice.

Walls shot up in front of the guards and blocked them in place. On the other side, another wall. Soon the space in front of me grew more narrow, and more important, it was just ‘the boss’ and I.

“What’s going on?!” He slammed a fist against his desk.

I leaned up to him, pulled out my knife, then jammed it into his palm. He let out a shriek.

“Guards!” He called. But they couldn’t do anything. They were trapped in. Considering how tough the walls were, I’d say he only had himself to blame.

“If you wanted to kill me, you could have. Hell, I probably deserve it. But you do not go after my family,” I leaned my face up to his, and breathed out a low, rumbling growl. Tears filled his face, along with snot, and his face contorted to a low hanging frown.

Just as swift, I pulled out my knife and blood trickled out from his palm. I sheathed the knife, then walked away.

“Holy shit!” Weatherboy, okay, Wheaty, exclaimed.

“Don’t act so surprised,” I dismissed his shock.

As I walked away, I noticed the portly leader of his failed organization get up and try to charge after me.

“Wheaty. Deploy a wall behind me,” I ordered. He did just as I commanded, and the wall shot up from the floor and I heard the pathetic excuse for a boss slide down. Next, I heard pointing. Along with the pounding of those many men, it really grew quite bothersome.

I can’t just leave here. This whole organization has to go. They don’t get any more chances at my life. They don’t get to threaten my family ever again. It simply cannot be allowed to exist.

My back to the wall, I gave the next order:

“Deploy turrets on the others. Now.”

Despite how immediate his response was for everything else, I sensed hesitance with this one.

“Are you sure about this?” He questioned, nervous.

“Yes. Just put a wall in front of the desk.”

“...OK…” His hesitance still showed through.

Soon I heard the turrets come up with their mechanical whirring. They fired without hesitation, an immediate hail of bullets and shells.

Their screams erupted, shot after bloody shot. Splats against the walls. Endless shrieks. Coupled with the intense drumming of the turrets, it bled through my ears and wouldn’t let me forget the sounds. It wouldn’t go away, and considering how tough their armor was, they wouldn’t go down so easily. But they were trapped, no way of escape. Even as their pounds against the walls begged for release. Sooner or later, they would be reduced to several bloody chunks. Just as that boss must have already been.

It all made me sick to my stomach.

I did this. I gave the order. All these soldiers, or assassins, or whatever they called themselves. They could have had family of their own. Children, friends, people who they cared for. And I took that away from them. There’s no room to regret it, though. They would have taken those things away from me, or anyone, with no hesitation. I couldn’t just let them live. But –

Any one of them could have been like Remora. Forced into it. If that’s the case, I just took away any hope they could have had of freedom. Worse? Even though I feel justified, I hate it. I hate that I so easily took away their lives while I’m standing back and waiting for it all to end. Yes, Remora did something similar with her own group, to ensure her survival. Took out the entirety of her old organization. She claimed she didn’t feel a thing, didn’t care. But I? I feel everything. Every scream. Every bullet. Every piece to hit the ground. I can see their faces, see their horror in my head, even if I can’t see how it actually is. I’m so close to it.

I lifted up the collar of my shirt underneath my hoodie and held it up to my mouth. I felt like I was about to throw up. That noise, their pain, their deaths, it wouldn’t go away. Air seemed to fill with smoke. Or maybe it did behind those walls, and I just imagined the smoke around me as well. It was suffocating. I grew dizzy, lightheaded, and it seemed like I was about to pass out as I slid down against the wall and dropped to the floor.

You know, maybe Remora didn’t care, but that must have been for the better. It’s worse to have the capacity to care and still commit terrible acts. No doubt. I was worse.

“Are you okay?!” Wheaty shouted into the receiver.

“Of course,” I winced as I lifted myself back up. My voice was harsh, but for whatever reason, he seemed worried. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know it’s over now,” he let me know. Despite that, I still heard the rain of bullets. Then, I rubbed the sides of my head and a few seconds later, silence, save for a small sizzling sound.

“Good. You can put down the walls now.”

He did as I requested, and I retched upon seeing the damage I had done. That boss was a bloody mess, sprawled up on the floor. Those dozen or so guys to my left were also piled up on the floor. Their sight wasn’t so gruesome, as their armor obscured most of it, but chunks of their armor had broken off and red exposed flesh showed through.

I walked across, minded where I stepped, then went behind the former boss’ desk. There was a room I didn’t notice before, but I did now.

“Hey, do you know if this room’s locked?” I asked.

“It doesn’t appear so.”

I turned the knob. Sure enough, it opened up.

Inside was a large safe of money, all piled high against the walls. On top of that, however, was a stack of weapons and strange glowing minerals. Too bad none of those weapons were used on me. Maybe if they were, I’d have been long gone. If only.

“Come in. I’ve got the money,” I told him, “try not to mind the dead bodies.”

I sifted through the safe. Any other opportunist would have taken whatever money they could get their hands on. I never said I had my priorities straight.

Those minerals and weapons interested me, but I dare not take those, either. I had no idea what either of them were capable of or why they were kept in a safe. Still, I made note of it. While I had no intention of returning to this place, it might be useful to remember such things for the future.

It took a few minutes, but he showed up. When I saw him, he looked just as disgusted as I was. Couldn’t blame the guy. I noticed some serious eye baggage and he was slumped over. It must have taken a great deal of strength for him not to throw up then and there.

“What a mess,” he sounded exasperated.

“You’re telling me,” I replied, then handed him the cash. He took it, then looked up, dejected.

“Hey, take care,” he sounded glum, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“Thanks.”

“And by the way...no offense, but I hope we don’t ever meet again.”

“I don’t blame you,” I echoed the sentiment.

He waved, then walked off. Before he got far, I called for him:

“Hey! What about the contacts?”

He shrugged.

“Keep them. I’ll disconnect the signal later. I’m more worried about where I’m going to drop off these guys in the back of the van.”

Fine enough by me. He served his purpose. I’d get rid of the contacts myself sooner or later. Though the fact that my glasses were left at my cousin’s house was a concern. First, I had some unfinished business before leaving the place: I had to figure out who ordered the hit on me, then pay them a visit. To that end, I checked on the computer for any information I could find. Sure enough, I found what I was looking for and then some.

II

I’d have departed right away if not for what, or rather, who stood in my way: some robotic figure with silver steel armor and a thin helmet with red pointed earpieces on each side with a shape which reminded me of the head of a dragon. It had a red, see-through visor, but I couldn’t quite make out the face on the inside.

Whoever you are, I really don’t have time for this, so if you could just step aside, that would be great.

“What do you want? If it’s a fight, I’d advise against it, else you end up like those guys over there,” I pointed my thumb behind me.

“You’re welcome to try. But I already withstood those bullets,” came a deep and feminine voice which held a similar dark timbre in her words as I now held.

“So what do you want, then? Are you here to kill me? Finish the job for your boss?” I threw my hands out. I really didn’t know why this person wouldn’t just move.

“I never worked for them. I just infiltrated their headquarters to gather information,” came her flat reply. I watched as she turned her attention toward the pile of corpses. “Though gruesome, they’re no concern to me. However, I will make sure to give them all a proper burial.”

How touching. Real touching.

“What information did you find?” I tapped my foot.

She looked around the building, then back at me.

“Did you know that this place has technology which can harm angels? Or, that’s one name for them, anyway. Now, why such a place would need such technology is a concern in itself.”

“Uh, excuse me? Angels?”

“You’re right; it doesn’t matter. This world has its own problems. It doesn’t need some otherworldly being wreaking havoc.”

Then why mention it at all?!

“I just found it interesting. That these people would try to recreate such a terrible organization. ‘Janitors’, they used to call them. Killers and stalkers and thieves. If nothing else, I must commend you for making it so they could not develop further.”

“Uh...you’re welcome?”

“Back there, you knew who Rhea was, didn’t you?” She asked at last, her question made the hairs on my skin stand on end.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I know who he was referring to. But she died. So tough luck.”

“I see. Of course.”

Gee, this is Cronus all over again...shit. I never wanted to think about that. That place or that sicko.

“What about the name ‘Remora’?” Her question changed to one I recognized. My heart sank, and it felt I had stared into the eyes of Medusa herself as I stood in place, like a stone.

“That drew out a reaction,” she noted. “I take it you do know her.”

Fuck. Now I got my own body betraying me. Bad body.

Thinking fast, I scoffed.

“No,” I deflected. “I was just surprised. Like, who the hell would ask me if I knew the name of a fish? I’m not even interested in fish, so you’re lucky I even recognized that name at all!”

“Actually, that’s the name of a person,” she corrected. As if I even had to guess.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a person,” I shot back. “Who names their kid that? Rather, if nobody named them that, then why would they name themselves that?”

“You can come up with whatever excuse you want, but I could tell by your reactions alone that you know who I’m talking about. Now tell me where she is,” she demanded.

Look, Miss Power Ranger, even if your assessment is correct, I really have no clue where she could be.

“Why do you want to know, anyway?” I grimaced. It felt like I was giving up the game, but what else could I do?

“Because she killed my father. She needs to pay her due,” she stated. So direct, too.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I probably killed plenty of fathers just now. Not that I know, but just a guess.”

“Yet none of them were mine.”

Well, she was focused, at least. Had to give her credit there.

“So? You think you have the moral high ground? You think as long as you get revenge on one person, that no one else matters? Satisfy your desires, everyone else be damned?” Anger rose in me. But not about the subject of revenge, no. I was pissed that out of all the people she wanted to kill, it wasn’t me.

“What’s your point?” She accused.

“Hey Inigo Montoya! If you had any sense, you’d kill me!” I clenched my fists and shouted. “Why wait for someone who doesn’t matter when I’m right here!”

“If it’s retribution you see, you will get what is owed to you in due time. I have no need to intervene.”

There was nothing I could have said to provoke her and worse yet, she got what she wanted out of me: confirmation that Remora was someone I knew.

Frantic, I looked around and noticed a large rock. Or rather, it was loose debris from the floor. I grabbed it and threw it at her. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“If you want to know where Remora is, you’ll have to go through me!” I shouted once again.

“Why are you defending her? She’s a murderer,” through her confusion, I sensed the slightest bit of irritation in her. Yet that raised a good question: why was I defending her? She was no longer in my life and neither of us cared about the other. So it shouldn’t have mattered.

I took a step back.

“I-I’m not,” I struggled to get out the words. “I’m just not feeling very cooperative!”

I grabbed another chunk of debris and threw it her way, and that time she deflected it and tossed it aside like it was nothing.

“Enough!” She shouted. “Tell me where I can find her and quit with this nonsense!”

Ha. Finally I got a rise in her. Sorry, Miss Sentai, but nonsense was what I was good at.

“Or else what? You’ll kill me?”

“No. I have no interest in doing so.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m not going to tell you anything otherwise.”

Behind me was a gun which belonged to one of the corpses. If the turrets didn’t do the trick against her like she suggested, then I doubted such a weapon would either. But that wasn’t what I was hoping for. I just wanted to piss her off.

I grabbed it and I had to use both hands due to its heaviness. It was a miracle I could even pick it up at all, but I attributed it to the adrenaline in me. As soon as I picked it up, I opened fire.

Of course, it all bounced off, but it served its purpose, and she took a step forward, then ran after me.

Good, I thought, let the chase commence.

It didn’t go how I expected it to, however. Flame emitted from the soles of her metallic shoes and she propelled herself forward.

Rocket shoes? Seriously?! No fair.

I picked up the pace, threw the gun up to the second floor, and hurried up a ladder.

Maybe I could find an explosive, escape through a window, and leave her in the rubble. Wouldn’t that be grand?

Once up, I grabbed the gun and opened fire. It stopped her in her tracks, but not even a crack or a dent showed. Even as I unloaded more bullets, nothing. Once the thing was empty, I just threw it down. Maybe its weight could crack her visor at the very least. Do something.

Nope. Just like before with the debris, she swatted it away.

Come on! I have to do something!

On the wall, I found a fire extinguisher. I grabbed it and as soon as she landed at the second floor, I squeezed the nozzle down beneath her.

Maybe it obscured her vision, or stalled her, I wasn’t sure, but a great cloud formed and I saw it as an opportunity to charge forward and ram the extinguisher into that stupid helmet of hers.

To my surprise, two things happened:

1) First, I saw the silhouette of her helmet and cracks began to form in her visor.

2) She grabbed the extinguisher, crushed it in her hand, then tossed it aside. I’ll be honest, it was kinda hot.

After the smoke cleared, I saw the anger in her eyes, and her helmet came off to reveal a woman with short, auburn hair and dark brown eyes. Let me rephrase: her helmet didn’t ‘come off’ so much as it unfolded or something, back into her suit.

“What are you, Iron Lady? Don’t you know that billionaires can’t be superheroes? It’s an oxymoron!” I teased.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but you’re really trying my patience,” she replied through grit teeth.

Heh. Now that your helmet’s down, you’re vulnerable.

I reached into my pocket and unsheathed my knife. In a desperate attempt at...something, I lunged at her, my aim was for somewhere on that pretty face of hers. Instead, she grabbed my arm and tightened her grip enough for me to drop my knife.

Jeez. Her suit’s not just for show. She really is that strong. When it came down to it, what did I have to show for myself? I could take down men almost twice my size, but Astro Woman over there? No chance.

She lifted me up until I had to look down just to see her face. She looked up, bared her teeth, and seethed with repulsion.

“I know this isn’t appropriate for the situation, but I just wanna say that I’m kinda turned on right now,” I informed her. I wasn’t being serious, and I doubt she was even my type, but I really just wanted to get on her nerves.

“Disgusting,” she replied, and I propelled my legs forward and tried to knock her down. However, she didn’t even budge.

“Pathetic. It seems without someone there to help you out, you’ve got nothing.”

“Yes, please, degrade me more,” I groaned, rather annoyed, myself, as I tried to struggle free from her grip. At least she helped me out with that, as she swung her arm back and sent me flying toward the nearest wall where my back slammed against it and I fell.

“At least I know she’s out there, somewhere. I can find her on my own. You weren’t even worth my time,” she spat down at me.

I watched as she walked away, and I tried to get myself up, but I was just too sore. Loathe as I was to admit, she was right: I wasn’t nearly as badass as I propped myself up to be. At least my family would be safe, that was what mattered. Remora, on the other hand? Fuck. She might have been right about that, too. Whether or not I should have, even if she didn’t need defending, I really wanted to keep her safe. I hated that part of myself, along with the part of myself that committed such atrocities, but I couldn’t shake either part of me.

It took a while, even a great deal of strength on my part, but I struggled back up, and limped on ahead. That delay really did put a damper on what I was looking forward to the most: dying.

She was a distraction, someone who I never accounted for, and because of that, I was late for my final confrontation. But soon, I would pay them a visit, and at last, I would find the release I so desperately craved.

III

For whatever reason, the one who ordered the hit on me was staying at a hotel just a few miles away. Maybe it was for the sake of convenience. Convenient for him, or convenient for me, I wasn’t sure which. It didn’t really matter, anyway.

It took a few more hours, no driver to take me and I refused to try to hotwire a car I knew I couldn’t even drive. Ha. Within just a few minutes of walking, I regretted not trying to hijack something. I was too sore. That fight took more out of me than I wanted it to. Maybe that was for the best, though. It would give me less of a fighting chance. Whoever it was who wanted me dead, I decided I would just give it to them. There was a good chance that whoever they were felt too weak to fight me, but it shouldn’t have been a problem if I didn’t resist, right?

So I walked, all bruised and with a bloody lip, awaiting my end.

By the time I reached the hotel, it was daybreak. Few cars occupied the parking lot. White line dividers looked more animated. I imagined that the paint was fresh. In my delirious state, I tried to bend down and slide my finger across it. But I couldn’t even reach that far. That mysterious armored woman sure did a number on me.

I looked up at the tall, golden building. Despite its extravagance, it looked a little rundown and beat up. Just like me. Holy hell, I just couldn’t do humor anymore. I couldn’t even humor the idea of humor.

I pulled out my phone. It wasn’t very kind of me. I had months to deliberate and I didn’t send so much as a hello. There was no indication that I ever wanted a friend. That I even wished to reach out to one. Pathetic, I thought to myself, about myself, as I reached for that crumpled piece of paper and entered in the digits. Within a few seconds, I texted:

Me: Could you please come get me? No pressure if you’re busy or asleep or anything. Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway.

Then I texted her the address and set the phone back in my pocket. Once I pushed open those glass doors, I knew there wasn’t any going back from it, and honestly? I didn’t want to. Rather than fear, I wanted to enter that room and get it over with. Let them end me.

I staggered up to the front desk, a kindly young woman stood there, big brown poofy hair. Her gold plated name tag read ‘Janis’. If that was one of the last memories I were to have before I departed, was it worth it? To have such a memory? I didn’t think so. That fuzzy carpeted lobby, its red and black diamond pattern. That was also not worth noting.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She smiled all wide and asked in some grating robotic voice. Weak, I answered:

“I’ve got someone expecting me in room 811,” I told her. Rather, I’m expecting them.

“Oh, of course. He told me he’d have a guest. Go right up, the door should be unlocked for you,” she gestured toward the elevator.

Well gee, if that’s not suspicious at all. Someone really was expecting me.

“Thank you,” I mustered out the words. Even if she was in on it, whatever ‘it’ was, I still tried to use my fucking manners.

Rather than use the elevator, even if the rest of me pleaded with me not to walk so much, I took the stairs. Yes, I wanted to get it over with. End it. But at the same time...I felt confident that I could take my time. My breaths were labored, and I just about collapsed a couple of times while on my way up, but that didn’t stop me.

Once I stood in front of room 811, I turned the handle and entered:

It was a darkened room, only a dim lamp to illuminate. It was also a cluttered room, with very little space to walk around in. Tall dressers and cabinets occupied the walls. Above it were tin figures of tigers and dragons and many miniature globes. I allowed the door behind me to close into place. When I stared ahead, I noticed a wooden desk and a puffed up black swivel chair with its back turned to me.

Only the second man behind a desk I’ve encountered in the past 24 hours. Lucky me.

“So you’ve arrived,” a gruff, gravelly voice spoke. Despite only meeting him once, long ago, I recognized his voice. It was different from how I remembered, but there was no mistake. Then, when he turned around, any room for doubt was erased:

Jerry Mander.

He wore a pinstripe suit with thin black and white stripes. Black, disheveled hair covered the top of his head, and a pronounced stubble worked its way upon his chin. In a strange way, he reminded me of Ray, only Jerry had no glasses. Neither did I. To think my final moment would come without my glasses on.

“I figured you would after the first attempt was foiled. I told them that you weren’t to be underestimated, but they didn’t listen. Oh, no,” any sort of humor or joy was devoid from him as well. Whatever happened to the two of us, we were like two peas in some broken pod. “They told me not to worry about it. That they were professionals. Ha. Like I wasn’t?”

So I had a name and face. But the motive was unclear.

“Let me guess: you entered their lair and took them all out?”

I didn’t answer. I just let him talk. That’s what he wanted, right?

“You don’t need to tell me the details, but I’m right, aren’t I?” He wheezed out a laugh. Again, devoid of anything resembling humor. “Just my fucking luck. I mean, I knew it would happen, I just knew, but I paid good money, and look at what good it did me.”

Truth be told, I thought he was kind of goofy when I met him. But all of those details about him were fuzzy. He took a treasure from Sunny, tied her and I up, but I broke free. That’s it.

“Just so you know, there are two small laser cannons hanging from the ceiling. Any sudden movements, any attempt on my life, and they’ll fire.”

Good. Can I just step forward and get this over with?

“Now, answer me: do you have a gun hidden in your pocket that you planned to shoot me with?”

I shook my head.

“Good,” he then reached under the desk and pulled out a revolver. “However, I’ve got one. You won’t be taking it from me, either. It’s just you and I. Understood?”

I said nothing in response.

He fired his revolver and I felt a sharp pain hit through my left shoulder. It spread and I reached my right arm to cover the wound as blood soon leaked through both my sleeve and my palm. I tensed up and howled, doing my best not to shed any tears.

“ANSWER ME!” He roared.

“Y-Yes! Understood!” I cried out. Then, I hissed and seethed. I scowled and snarled at him with the intensity of a wolf whose paw had just been stepped on.

“Good. You’re going to answer me when I speak. You owe me that much after what you’ve taken from me. Do you know what I’m referring to?”

“No,” even in my pain, my delivery was low, if a little hoarse.

“Let me refresh your memory, then.”

I glanced down at the floor and noticed the blood that had dripped down.

“Look at me,” he ordered. I didn’t feel like a rebel, but I sure hated being ordered around. Still, given the position I was in, I did so.

“You see, I was a business man, and Sunny was a competitor of sorts. My men and I would try to get to ancient treasures before her, and she’d try to get to them before me. Sometimes, I’d capture her and gloat as I took the treasure for myself. At times when she’d get the treasure, I’d shoot at her, alongside my loyal followers. Sometimes when she was captured she’d break free and take the treasure back. It didn’t really matter much of the time who won, save for the fact that I still won sometimes and I was well respected among my employees. That’s how things were, and should have been until you showed up one day and shot my foot.”

So that’s what it was. Something I had long since forgotten, he’s held a grudge for.

“I didn’t know about all that,” I told him. It was the truth. I was naive, wanted to impress others, wanted to look badass. What else could I have said?

“Of course you didn’t. You probably thought you were playing hero. You didn’t know the relationship Sunny and I had, the history.”

“You can still have that,” I told him. For whatever reason, I didn’t know. He didn’t seem like he wanted a pep talk.

“Wrong!” He raised his voice to a shrill bark once again. “Do you know what happened after you shot me?”

“No.”

“Of course not. How could you? Well, let me tell you: I could hardly walk without limping. I had to use a cane. I was out of commission for months. Then, many of my employees resigned, having lost respect for me. The few that I had weren’t enough to cut it for the tasks I took on. Every little opportunity, every assignment brought with it a loss. Morale sunk with each passing day. It was like meeting you brought forth a bad luck that I could never scrub my hands clean of.”

“I didn’t know,” I repeated myself. That time, it sounded like a plea. Not for my life, but...something else that I couldn’t grasp.

“Shut up. You’re not telling me anything that I can’t already tell just by looking at you. Do you know the last assignment I had before hiring someone to kill you? No. Don’t answer me this time. You don’t, so let me tell you: I had a theory that Sunny had amassed some kind of army of short people to take me down. So I hired a strong kid who I thought couldn’t be beaten. My men and I then ventured into a cave in Switzerland for an ancient block of Swiss cheese. Do you know what – no,” he ground his teeth, then continued, “Sunny arrived, along with this kid that fought the one I hired. It was a joke, a total farce. We lost. More than that, it made me into a joke. It was humiliating.”

That must have been Tigershark. Even if I didn’t know the exact situation, there was no way Tigershark was to blame for any of this.

“It wasn’t the kid’s fault,” I told him.

“You’re right: it was yours. See, after I suffered that lost and the last of my henchmen had left me, I stewed in my mansion. Oh, poor me, right? I’ve got myself a fancy mansion. Wrong. That no longer mattered to me, as I couldn’t do much of the things I enjoyed. It was empty. No one wanted to hang around me. I was a total laughingstock. So I got to thinking: what was the root cause of all of this? Who was responsible? Because it wasn’t Sunny, and it wasn’t no damn kids. No. It was you.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even think I could.

“How funny, too. I was obsessed, and from that obsession, I was able to dig up some dirt on you: Demetria Root. ‘Demisexual’? Give me a break. I can tell just by looking at you that you’re a virgin.”

You’re not wrong, but that seriously has nothing to do with anything.

“I remember something you told me, back when you pointed that gun at me. How I told you that you shouldn’t risk it, that you didn’t even look like you knew how to fire one. Do you remember what you told me?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Something to the effect of, ‘I don’t value my life all that much. I’ve got less to lose.’ But as it turns out, you’ve got family. You’ve got people who are willing to protect you, judging by the fact that the person who tried to shoot a poison needle at you got killed. Plus, you’ve got people you’re willing to protect. But do you know how people like Sunny and I are able to do what we do? Because we don’t have family. That, or we keep that shit a secret. We don’t make ourselves traceable. Don’t you know why heroes have secret identities? It’s because of that.”

Of course. I was careless. Time and time again, and now it was time to pay the price.

“So the roles have reversed: I’ve got less to lose, as I’ve already lost most of what I had. I spent all my money just so I could get a chance at ending your life, and that too failed. Now here we are, you and I, and neither of us will leave this room until one of us dies. If it happens to be both of us, so be it.”

But if it happens to be you, Jerry? I began to think, but had to stop myself. I wanted to let him kill me. So I couldn’t bear the thought of him risking his own life, even if both of us died, that wouldn’t be good enough. I had to be the only one.

“You don’t have to do this,” I spoke up. “I know how it looks. You’ve got nothing left. You don’t know what to do with your life anymore. So even if things could be better later on, you couldn’t imagine what those things could be. So that’s what you choose: to go down doing what you know. At least it would be on your own terms, right? But you have no idea the impact it could have. I’m telling you this right now.”

“Are you begging for your life? Is that it?” He grunted.

Wrong. I’m begging for yours.

I went on.

“It may not seem like it. It may seem like you’ve been reduced to a joke. But after you die, people will talk about you, prop you up. Some will speak fond of you, some will wish they had killed you themselves. Some will wish for what could have been. What could have happened if you and them became friends. Some would be glad you were dead, or even joke about you, yes. But they would be talking. Stories would be passed around about you. People would be fascinated by you. ‘Oh, that Jerry Mander. What a legend. I wish I could have met him’, they’ll say.”

“Enough!” He snapped. His voice darkened to a near-demonic growl. “Do you know what my original name was? Ben Dover. But that name too was a joke, so I changed it to the much more dignified Jerry Mander. From that, I was infamous. I had an empire built up. Once, I learned that there was a man already named Jerry Mander who wrote a book criticizing capitalism. What a joke! I’m a capitalist. But you know what? I kept it. I loved the irony. However, all of that was a thing of the past. Long since gone. Once it was fun and Sunny and I laughed, two foes foiling the others’ schemes. But no more.”

“That’s the thing!” I argued. “You’re Sunny’s enemy, not mine!”

“No. You’re just a bad omen. A nightmare. Once you’re extinguished, my world will be less gray.”

“Fine. So I am. But Sunny is a sun! She’s bright! Just throw me out the window, get rid of me, go back to your old life!”

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” He accused.

You’re right. I don’t. I just want to care again. I’m sure I did, once. I’m just trying to remember what it felt like.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” My voice darkened as well.

“No. You can’t,” he confirmed. Maybe if I was more powerful there could have been something else I could have said or done. Not a physical power, but...I didn’t know what. It might have just been that I was the wrong person.

Still, I stood in place and watched as he got up from his chair and pulled out a cutlass from a large pot next to his desk. I didn’t notice it before, it must have been obscured by the shadow. Or it could have just been convenient not to have noticed it.

“You deserve something more personal than just a shot to the head, or the heart. I’m going to tear you open. Watch you bleed out in pain. Watch you beg for your life, beg for mercy. But it won’t come.”

Fine. Then just do it already.

Sure enough, he leapt at me and slashed forward, and on instinct, I tried to jump back, but there was little room to move and the flesh on my stomach felt the sting of a long cut. It was shallow, or so I thought, as I just winced at first, but then a swell of blood spilled forth and I shifted from holding onto my shoulder to holding onto my stomach. Either way, I winced, and the pain was in multiple places.

“Good...hit…” I shook and raised my free hand up to give him a thumbs up.

“Even now? Even now you treat me like a joke?” His face was beet red.

You’ve got it all wrong. Damn it.

He lunged at me and I fell to the floor. By all accounts, I should have died. Those lasers should have detected my movement and hit me. He should have rammed that cutlass into my heart. None of what should have happened, happened.

No. No, no, no.

Instead, when I fell, I found myself, against my wishes, pulling out my knife to block the sword. I didn’t want to, I swear I didn’t want to. His sword got stuck in the wood floorboard, and the lasers? They hit his back. He fell on me, and to add insult to injury, the knife I pulled out to block his sword, something I didn’t even want to do? It had struck his heart.

I shut my eyes tight. Something welled up. Something that felt like tears. But no, they didn’t even come. I wasn’t even allowed that.

My shoulder’s bleeding out, my stomach’s cut open. I should think about that. Even if I make it down those stairs and out of the hotel, I’ll pass out, no, die from blood loss. Yeah. That’s right. Then I would be free, free from whoever it was I had become.

I shoved him off of me and pulled out the knife. No signs of life. No breaths. No last words. How terrible.

I left the room. Shambled, limped, whatever you wanted to call it, down those many flights of stairs. At any moment, I would collapse –

– Truth be told, I should have died long ago. Back when I was confronted by those gang of guys who wanted to assault me, maybe worse, I shouldn’t have been saved. Even if she wasn’t even thinking of saving me, Remora prevented what should have happened.

When I encountered Cronus and that strange creature at the mansion, either one of them should have taken me. Eaten me alive, devoured me. Ripped me apart. Whatever. It could have been said that I lost my sense of self there, but maybe I lost it long before that.

There were many other moments, but the fact was that I had lived through them all. None of them were deserved. Yes, I had a family. I wished them all to be safe and well. There were people who cared about me, but the bottom line was: I never deserved any of that. I wasn’t worth it.

Those were my thoughts, as were many others along the same lines, as I made my descent. Were any of them correct? Some may have even contradicted themselves. There wouldn’t be any last words coming out of me, nothing memorable. Just a bunch of jumbled up thoughts.

As luck would have it, I made my way down. Pain oozed, even if it was the last thing on my mind. Part of me didn’t want to die, wanted to keep going, but didn’t know what for.

Using the weight of my unharmed shoulder, I shoved my way out of the glass doors and stepped into the parking lot. Commotion, possible panic from the front desk agent, followed. It all came out as static. Once outside, I collapsed.

[llamagoddessofficial]

How about yandere cowpoke headcanons? Can I get a yanerehaw! Sorry, I'm still working on that joke

.... yandee-haw? yandehaw? yee-handere? Yee........ haderaw?

Sans: Best friend gone a little nuts over her. No one remembers how Sans got such a chokehold over the town’s entire legal system (or why G disappeared so quickly) but nobody seems to mind considering how safe he makes it. Everyone trusts his judgement completely, including Mc... he’s such a nice, local guy, doing his best to protect the unprotected community. No one questions him, no one thinks twice about why a man who brought Mc some flowers the previous day is tried and hung almost overnight. He must’ve been a deviant- a secret criminal. That must be it.

He’s sweet and a little shy around Mc but he’d rather die than make her upset, so if she seems particularly attached to someone they’re safe. And he doesn’t want her to ever find out what he’s really like.

Red: Sans tries his hardest to keep the bounty hunter away from Mc but they bump into each other eventually in the saloon and Red immediately falls for her without a moment to spare. He uses the fact that he’s good-looking and new and exciting for her to keep her coming back to him, telling stories about travelling under the stars and capturing outlaws. On the surface he’s a totally amicable guy... but he’s got a dark, possessive side that seems to surface whenever guys approach her, perfectly happy to pin someone’s hand to the table with his Arkansas Toothpick if they’re getting handsy with her. “touch her again an’ you’ll lose more than yer fuckin’ left hand, my friend.”

He and Sans butt heads all the time. Red mockingly calls him ‘officer’ and Sans calls him ‘buddy’ with an intense disdain.

Skull: He may not have his memories, but his murderous instincts are still very much intact. He attaches to Mc’s love and kindness like a remora and won’t let go... soft, gentle, obsessed baby who gets vicious and violent as soon as she’s out of the room. Anyone he deems ‘too close’ will just get killed and have their body dumped outside of town somewhere- ironically, The Axe gets the blame. 

If only they knew just how right they are.

[cenobiavigantzky]

Wraith's Last Flight

EMISSION WARNING

The warning tone that accompanied those words echoed in the mindscape of the diminutive pilot. His shell smiled in the enclosed cockpit, a mental command diverting power from the main reactor to the supercapacitors in the cargo hold.

“Etel, they’re inside maximum range.” Rence exhaled nervously, finger hovering over the button that’d release the magnetic clamps holding his craft to the underside of his partner’s, his other hand firmly gripping the control yoke.

“I know.” The voice coming over the comms was synthesized- it could only be, after all. Still, the mischievous tone told his fellow mercenary all he needed to know.

He was going to pull that stunt. Again. 

“Could you go a single job without giving me a gorramn heart attack out of worry?” His Remora-class Interceptor’s sensors were cold, but the datalink with his partner’s Cetorhinus-class Transport told him all he needed to know. The red dots were getting concerningly close.

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I just want to make your job easier, after all.” Four chimes let the support pilot know that their trap was ready to be sprung. He chuckled darkly, watching the activation prompt overlap his sensor suite.

“Etel!” Before the taller pilot could argue further, the cargo bay doors atop the small transport starship flung open violently, barely preceding a thunderous discharge of directed radiation covering the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Four sensor signatures changed from red to gray.

Dozens of kilometers away, raider crews cursed and swore at the middling, seemingly innocuous escort craft that’d just fried every component in their ships. Even the main reactors entered their safety shutdown mode to avoid loss of plasma containment, a system present in every spacefaring vessel to save the lives of the crew in case of catastrophic system failure.

Sadly for the meticulously designed machine, its efforts would soon be made moot.

“See? Perfectly safe. Go get them, tiger.” The flirtatious voice was Rence’s clue to bring his Interceptor’s own modules hot and maneuver out from its hiding position. He felt the carefully calibrated resistance of the main trigger under his right index while the acceleration pushed him into the seat.

A thought from within a composite coffin opened up a new communications channel. “Logistar Three-Three-Seven-Four-Niner, this is Cormorant One. Bandits are no factor. You’re cleared for thruster relight, over.” 

On the other side of the small transport from the currently ongoing one-sided massacre, three circles of blue light came to life, each dwarfing either of the escort craft. From Etel’s point of view, the very horizon seemed to be shifting thanks to millions of tonnes of spacecraft laboriously changing relative velocity to himself. Slowly but inexorably, the worn but well kept engines pushed the lumbering metal giant onwards through its journey.

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

Unruly brown hair whipped in the wind against a young man’s face in the mild bustle of the Starport. Distant announcements echoed off the featureless gray walls, people and cargo moving about in the typical languid pace of a small, far-flung colony of a budding agrarian world. 

His task of hangaring the ships finished almost a quarter of an hour ago, there was nothing for Cormorant Two to do but wait.

Halfhearted daydreams of distant retirement were interrupted by a smaller arm touching his for a second, the holographic display of his personal wrist computer showing the infusion of funds to his account. If one were to look closely, they’d notice the synthetic nature of the body that barely came up to his chest- as it was, its owner smiled up at him.

“We got a nice bonus from the salvage crews. Next job is in four days.” Etel’s silver hair bobbed in front of him while the fellow pilot skipped ahead happily. Rence sighed, removing himself from leaning back against a support pillar with a groan of effort to catch up.

It would be nice if his body didn’t feel twenty years older than it actually was.

The fake leather of his worn aviator jacket rustled with each step- perhaps something that could be avoided were him to take his hands out of its pockets. Too bad, they were warm, and would stay warm.

A lithe arm from his longtime friend wrapped around one of his the moment they were side by side, falling in step with the practice of a dancing duo. Which he supposed they were, in a generously metaphorical way. “Just dealing with that took you so long?”

Gentle, androgynous features sharpened in mock offense when looking up at him. “Of course not, doofus. Networking, negotiating, mingling with the locals- you know this operation isn’t just blowing up helpless idiots. Your job is the latter because you have the social skills of a recluse porcupine.” 

A beatific- and notoriously fake- smile now coloured Etel’s face. “Little people person me’s job is to keep this whole thing running. Which is why you have to make do with my absence for an hour or two every once in a while.” A hand came to his forehead in mock despair. “I know, it’s a peerless tragedy, my love. But I’m afraid fate has cursed us so.”

Rence didn’t bother rolling his eyes, relying on the utterly flat tone of his response to convey the necessary sarcasm. “Yes, my pain is unimaginable every time.” 

Truth be told, he couldn’t help but worry when his partner was alone. But said partner already knew that, so admitting it would be pointless teasing fodder.

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

“I’ll get a large house’s special. Thanks.” The lights of the small colony clawed futilely at the dark abyss through the windows of the small family diner. Perhaps one day, they would be a match; but that day had not arrived quite yet.

“And you, kid?” The older woman behind the front bar turned to Etel, whomst happily sipped his sweetened drink- made with something local, he didn’t quite ask. -while still leaning against his partner in crime, even while both were sitting at stools.

“Oh, don’t mind me Ma’am, I’ll just steal some of his.” The apparent young teenager shook his head, smiling happily. Said happiness coming from the fact that Rence’s jacket was wrapped around him, taking the worse off the chill that still bit through the connection suit. 

He could have gotten his civvie clothes out of the Cetorhinus, but there was little reason to when the option of simply abusing his wingman’s kindness was available.

That, and the jacket with the names of every member of Cormorant cheaply printed on its back held a very special meaning for both of them- slowly falling apart or not. Perhaps the universe’s way of displaying metaphorical irony at its own tragedies.

Before long, the brown haired pilot leaned closer still, doing his best to appear inconspicuous- and failing horribly at it, but perhaps the intention is what counted.

“Another one giving me the side-eye.” At least his whispering skills were not so bad to have the entire establishment hear it.

“Well, to be fair, to the unattentive eye it does look like you’re planning on doing something exceedingly illegal with me.” Etel smirked, offering a sip of the pink coloured liquid in his cup to the other man, who warily took a small sample before grimacing.

“Spirits, I’ll never know how you manage to find the most sickeningly sweet thing in every place we go to.” Rence gladly returned the glass to its rightful owner. 

“And yeah, the whole ‘funny misunderstanding’ angle kinda lost its luster to me after the fourth time someone called the police. We’ve had the credits for an adult-type shell for years now, you know.”

“I know.” The flight leader responded nonchalantly. “But it’s not my style. It just wouldn’t be me.” He winked at his partner. “Besides, you wouldn’t like it as much either; I know what makes you tick.” 

“I wouldn’t mind. It’d still be you.” The silver haired ‘kid’ looked at his companion, sighing wistfully. “I guess you just can’t help it when your heart is wrapped around my finger like that, can you?” 

Despite the teasing tone, his eyes held genuine fondness towards the taller man. Quite how he managed to make a shell express such complex, minute emotions; would forever be a mystery. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just do the usual.” 

Turning around, Etel made a show of stretching his body, one hand deliberately holding his shoulder length hair aside from the back of the neck. He smiled in success at hearing the small pause in cooking noises.

It meant the older woman had noticed the data ports that marked his body as, without a doubt, artificial. The surreptitious way he’d developed to disarm thoughts that Rence was some sort of abuser without bringing up the topic itself and making a scene had yet to fail them once.

Truth be told, convincing local constabularies to let the man go had indeed gotten somewhat old.

The first drops of rain touched the ground outside, refracting the meager lights of the colony on their way down. Distant points became blurs, joining the white noise of the mounting shower. Rence turned around on his stool, noticing his partner’s lost gaze into the distance. He knew why, of course.

It always rained in Pascia. An eternal downpour that hid the military spaceport where they’d met, both having been offered a better life in exchange for their efforts in the war. Them, and dozens more children, none older than twelve cycles. Innocents to be turned into pilots, to push the limits of what humans could achieve in the heavens-

-or so they’d been told. Sometimes the taller pilot wondered if the small, unmarked graves he and Etel had made in one of the hills overlooking the landing strips still stood. The members of Cormorant deserved better. They all did. Rence wrapped an arm around the shorter man, gently pulling him closer and rubbing his shoulder.

His flight leader might still blame himself for it. He’s just glad the graves stopped at six.

The sound of ceramic being placed on hardwood brought the pair’s attention back to the front bar. “Here you go. And I’m sorry for-” The older woman trailed off, embarrassed to admit her initial misconception by name. A wistful sigh preceded a warm smile framed by silver hair. “We understand, Ma’am. It’s not the first time.”

The other pilot nodded in agreement, taking the warm plate filled with a mix of vegetables and meat, local and not. “Thanks.” He didn’t even know what most of them were, but Etel had picked the place- that was reason enough to trust it.

The hours of the night passed inexorably, further diminishing the number of people inside the diner. Most had either left or moved upstairs for the night, but the pair couldn’t quite bring themselves to just yet. 

It possibly had something to do with the way Rence held him, arms wrapped around from behind, pulling his smaller body close in the comfortable booth. It was his place of peace, of being able to actually enjoy the soothing sound of rainfall with the one person he loved at his side.

The spell was only broken when the sound of ice clinking against glass interrupted the comfortable silence- one that came from his right arm starting to shake. A disappointed huff escaped his plump lips. He could feel a larger hand enveloping his, diminishing the unwanted movement.

But not stopping it.

“Getting bad?” It wasn’t the first, tenth, or hundredth time the issue had reared its annoying head, but the sweet, caring fool’s voice held just as much concern as the first happenstance of the event. 

At least by now he understood it, so Etel didn’t feel so guilty about making his partner worry pointlessly- though at this point he also knew that it could keep happening for a hundred years, and Rence would still worry to some degree. It was just one of the conditions of their relationship.

“Yeah. I should still be able to walk, but it’s better if we turn in now. I don’t want to have you snapping your spine carrying my shell upstairs.” A shaking elbow poked the taller man’s midsection, the usual cocky smile adorning the flight leader’s face once again. 

No matter how many times he told his wingman that the episodes didn’t trigger actual pain, they’d still probably never believe him.

Two taps on the table and a hand signal was all the brown haired pilot needed to inform the owner that she could close shop. Etel preempted her offer while Rence helped him walk towards the stairs to the side of the bar. 

“N-not real-lly. B-but thank-k you. I’ll be fi-ine.” The words were stuttered and clipped, but at least came out. He was thankful for her kindness, but there was really nothing she could do to help. It’d spread to most of his body by then, but at least his legs were still working. 

For now.

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

For small blessings- not that such beliefs were common anymore- the pair were able to make it to their assigned room for the night before the silver haired flight lead lost complete control of his body, cybernetic as it may be. The taller of the two held him close in bed while the shaking worsened to the point where it was easier for Etel to simply use his auxiliary speakers.

His teeth were clattering too hard to do otherwise.

“Thanks, Rence.” The voice was less natural than his normal one, but the other man didn’t mind. He just continued to hold his partner. 

“I just wish I could do more.” The wingman whispered.

“You’re already doing everything that you can. It really helps, and you know this doesn’t actually hurt; it’s just annoying.” 

Slowly, the shorter pilot managed to fight the shaking enough to wrap his arms around his lover. Even though his own body was thermally controlled to match a human’s- a perk of this specific type of shell- Rence’s warmth was still immensely soothing. 

A sudden, synthesized chuckle cut through the tense atmosphere of the room.

“Sometimes I wonder what the two of us back in flight training would react like if they could see us today.” 

Etel could feel the smile forming against his hair. “I’d be very confused. You’d probably just grin.”

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

Ten Years Earlier

The young pilot to be groaned at the display showing the results of the latest Electronic Warfare aptitude test. He hadn’t placed badly by any means- second place out of several dozen participants was more than respectable. 

The other kids around him chalked the reaction down to an overdeveloped sense of competitiveness- which he was known for almost as much as his inability to socialize in any way, shape or form.

The real reason being he’d placed just below his roommate, therefore losing the bet they’d made. Their egos had clashed from day one, helped in no small part thanks to opposing personalities. Time only made the issue worse by having the two leapfrog each other in every test, whether practical or theoretical.

They had finally been able to come to a ceasefire of sorts by using bets to disarm the tension, the latest being that the loser would need to obey a single order from the winner, no matter what. Rence had been the winner of the last one, using his wish to have Etel clean their room- childish, perhaps, but he could not come up with anything else.

The taller teenager steeled himself for the inevitable revenge, stepping into their shared dwelling. He was met by silver hair that framed an expression of a metaphorical cat that had caught the canary.

“I see someone checked the results.” The shorter trainee’s voice was overflowing with mirth- which only made the other more nervous.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get it over with. Want me to get stuff done this time?” Rence closed the door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms in an unconscious effort to show resistance. Grey light illuminated the small room through the window, having fought valiantly through the eternal clouds that covered Pascia.

Quite why someone had picked a planet like this for a military aerospace base would forever befuddle him.

Long eyelashes blinked mischievously at him, the purple eyes behind them studying him from below from several angles while their owner hummed in thought. After a long moment, Etel spoke. 

“A kiss.” His smile broke into a full-on grin.

The brown haired roommate blinked for several seconds, running the absurdity of the request over in his mind. His response was peerlessly eloquent.

“I- what- why!?”

A head tilted in front of his chin- they’d been around the same height at the start, but his growth spurt was leaving the other teenager behind easily.

“Because it’s what I want. Or are you going to back off the very first time you lost?” The sheer self-satisfaction emanating from his rival was almost physical in its intensity.

“I just-” Rence sighed, looking away while blood slowly crept up to his cheeks at the thought. “If that’s all you want, you could literally ask any of the girls. Or half of the guys. They’d all jump at the chance.”

An index pressed against Etel’s cheek theatrically, looking up in fake thought. “I guess that’s true.” It was, and they both knew it. 

While most people steered clear of the antisocial prodigy, the other trainee who led the rankings in just as many exercises was a magnet for people, both thanks to his ability to easily talk with anyone about seemingly anything, and the way his appearance seamlessly mixed male and female characteristics- a recipe to being the object of affection or desire to many in the training program.

That fact only made his specific request all the more odd.

“But they’re them. You’re you.” Somehow, that explanation made complete sense for the shorter kid. How, Rence had no idea. 

“And why me?” His confusion had reached a peak. 

“I have no idea.”  Etel smiled innocently, closing his eyes in cheekiness. His rival groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead in frustration. It was always like that with him, which was no small part of the initial friction between the two.

At least he was getting used to it. Or so he thought.

Rence sighed. “Fine. Let’s do it, I guess.” From a completely neutral point of view, he had to admit that the silver haired teenager was attractive- but with his focus entirely on personal performance, what anyone looked like was simply not something the taller kid cared about; hormones be damned.

The way his heart rate skyrocketed when Etel physically placed Rence’s arms around his thinner waist, at the sensation of smaller hands wrapping themselves around his shoulders and an unfairly androgynous face tilting up to reach his own- 

-said neglected hormones were merciless in their revenge for being ignored for so long. Still, he tried his best to swallow away the desire to hold the smaller form in his arms tighter.

Brown eyes widened in puzzlement at the touch of a small tongue against dry lips, fruitlessly trying to find explanation in half-lidded purple orbs. Was that how kisses worked? It’s not like he had one before, but the few times he’d seen them in vids were decidedly not like this. 

That’s not to say it didn’t feel nice, rather the opposite. 

Softer lips started making contact with his, causing a sigh to escape his nose; the larger body slowly relaxing and adapting to the new situation- like it always did. 

While Etel achieved his performance through analysis and solving of problems, Rence’s forte was instinctively doing what ‘felt right’ instead of any explicable line of thought. Much to the frustration of many an instructor.

When a smaller tongue started caressing a larger one, neither cadets were paying attention to anything else but the sensations of their bodies together, their warmth flowing from one another, the combined scent. What both thought would not last 20 seconds had gone on for far longer- just how long, none could say.

Judging at how swollen both sets of lips were when they finally came apart, gasping for air; far too long and at the same time not nearly long enough. 

Etel smiled with a mix of mischievousness and satisfaction, carefully wiping errant saliva from the kiss away with his thumb. “Not bad. I’m looking forward to next time.” His voice left no questions that there would be a next time. 

By the time Rence’s mind had cleared, the shorter male was already laying in the lower bunk that he’d long since declared his possession, nonchalantly browsing the base’s intranet in his portable comm. The taller teenager cleared his throat and tried to busy himself with something, anything in his rucksack.

“What do you mean by that?” His voice cracking was bad enough, he didn’t need his rival seeing that his face was still as red as a tomato.

“Hmm, I wonder.” A lighthearted, musical tone was all the answer he got.

There was a next time, of course. If there was something Etel was better at than piloting, it was always getting what he wanted. Before long, the pretense of bets was dropped entirely, rivalry replaced by tentative connections which further evolved into genuine affection- and further exploration of said connections, of course. They were teenagers after all.

Teenagers about to be sent into war.

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

Six Years Earlier

“They’ve got a lock! I can’t-” Garbled noises interrupted Cormorant Six’s final transmission before her craft broke apart under sustained autocannon fire. Etel’s teeth nearly cracked from the tension they were under.

What was once a squadron of eighth fighters was now down to two units, and only because the jamming support and its wingman were to stay outside direct engagement range to safely act as force multipliers.

All around them, peerless works of engineering, from nimble interceptors to kilometers-long behemoths broke up under sustained assault by equally beautiful machines, masterworks of humanity set alight in the dark seas of space. Its masters and guides offered in sacrifice with their creations to the species’s never ending struggle with themselves.

A sight equally beautiful as it was tragic.

The worst part is that he’d warned command about this. Their jamming was getting less and less effective with every new battle, while the enemy’s was only improving. It was only a matter of time before their biggest advantage was nullified, no matter how much he fiddled with the frequencies and settings of his craft’s electronic warfare suite. 

The silver haired squad leader had simply been able to delay the inevitable.

“Wraith, what should we do?” Rence had dutifully covered his six during the entire flight, not that it had been necessary for once. With its main capability neutered, a single craft maneuvering just outside the furball wasn’t an especially important target.

Unfortunately, said furball, now firmly dominated by the enemy, was their only path out of the slaughter. The sheer amount of weapons fire and debris all around the remains of Cormorant Squadron made any other avenue of escape implausible at best, impossible at worst.

“Etel?” For the first time, he heard something in his- what were they, even? Partners? Boyfriends? Neither of them had bothered to find a word to describe their relationship. They simply never thought it necessary. 

But for the first time, Rence’s voice was tinged by fear.

A support fighter and a space superiority craft against eight dedicated interceptors. No matter how good they were, those odds would end with the complete destruction of Cormorant Squadron. He would die. 

But most importantly, Rence would die. Just like Peton, Clouise, Thilly, Mildra, Tera and Ryne had before him.

In the heart of a maelstrom of steel, polymers, fire and ceramic that stretched for hundreds of kilometers in every direction, Etel pulled out the onboard systems access keyboard of his craft. 

“Fang, stay outside of their weapons range. I’ll clear a path.” His wingman’s stomach turned to ice when he noticed the jamming module passing by above his cockpit- ejected from his flight leader’s craft.

Said leader hovered a finger over the button to activate a batch file he’d prepared one day. ‘Leaf on the wind.’ It was completely suicidal, but he never figured he’d need to actually use it. Perhaps the mere existence of it tempted fate. More likely, it was simply a consequence of the lives they’d chosen.

Either way, it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Etel, what are you doing? You can’t take them on alone! Let me help!” Cormorant Two tried increasing engine power to get back in a position to protect the other craft, but his throttle refused to move. The message in one of his displays felt like a strike to the gut.

LEAD CRAFT OVERRIDE_

“I’m sorry, Rence. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Etel felt his body be pressed painfully against the back of the seat while his targeting solution switched to manual. His systems were awash with warning messages, many of which were supposed to be a death sentence to both spacecraft and pilot. 

He’d just need to find out for sure.

FLIGHT ASSISTANCE OFF

G LIMITER OFF

ENGINE LIMITER OFF

OVERVOLTAGE PROTECTION OFF

REACTOR LIMITER OFF

THERMAL PROTECTION DISABLED_

‘Fang’ watched in mute horror while the craft he was supposed to protect sped towards the waiting enemies- glowing specks of thrust chamber lining trailing in its wake, mingling with the stars beyond even while the fighter they came from slowly but surely began to come apart from the inside out.

Machine and man flew together as one for the first, and last, time- a bittersweet song of violence and art, unbound by future or fear. Writing their hope of survival for their beloved with glowing tracers and leaking plasma against the cold of the abyss, creating maneuvers with no names for the sake of simply staying alive just one more moment, dodging one more round to open a path.

But for each opponent fallen, the price was paid with draining shields, glancing blows, failing systems and venting atmosphere. By the time Rence saw a second burst of metal and sparks cut their way across Cormorant One’s cockpit, the warnings about pilot heart rate and erratic inputs no longer reached his ears. 

He didn’t know when the datalink with Wraith finally failed, only that the override was lifted and the one remaining enemy who hadn’t disengaged was lining up for a firing solution on the one person he had left in the world- on the wounded spaceship with more parts missing than not, desperately trying to maneuver with one engine and failing systems. 

Trying to make sure the taller pilot would survive, at the cost of itself. The most selfless act of selfishness- for the living are those who need to carry the sorrow. Leading the nose of his fighter ahead of the Interceptor about to end Wraith’s tale, a man at the heart of a storm shouted ‘No’.

Weapon mounts shuddered while the machine compensated for the violent forces trying to steer its pilot’s aim off course. Autocannons, machineguns and missiles sang in fury- a payload intended for an entire mission, depleted in a couple of seconds. 

“Rence?” The voice on the radio was pained, much like the signal itself. So many warning chimes coloured the background of the audio transmission, the brown-haired man couldn’t even tell them apart. “I guess long and midrange comms went out.” 

Etel tried his best to focus on the screens lining the walls around his body, finding it more difficult than it should be. Whether because of the fact most were broken, his vision was slowly failing, or the mixture of black and red fluid covering them, he couldn’t quite tell. 

Probably a mix of all three.

“Oh. A lot of things are out.” A shaking finger flipped through options until its owner could finally hear something. 

“Cormorant One, do you copy? Wraith? Etel, answer me!” He could almost see the other man’s frantic face when Fang entered formation off his left wing- metaphorically, of course. There were several layers of ceramic and steel separating the two enclosed cockpits. 

That, and he didn’t have much of a left wing anymore.

“Hey big dummy. Are you alright?” An unbidden smile came to his features, silver hair matted in red clinging to the seat while his head turned weakly to the side.

“Am I-” Utter disbelief stopped the response temporarily. “Yes! What’s your status!?” The sheer desperation in his lover’s voice hurt to hear.

“I’m- I’ll be alright.” Rence was safe. Everything would be fine. “I’ll be slaving-” his voice shivered in addition to being barely above a whisper. “-Wraith to you. I’m cold. I think enviro is down.”

The wingman’s heart sank further at the reestablished datalink.

WRAITH -> FANG

AUTOMATIC FORMATION ENABLED

EMERGENCY MEDICAL ATTENTION REQUIRED

EMERGENCY MAINTENANCE REQUIRED

PILOT INPUT REQUIRED - NO DATA

The incessant chimes of the combined alarms that would haunt his soul for the rest of its days echoed through the silence, joined only by the distant sound of the largest, and last, battle of the war fading behind the two.

“Rence, get us-” Etel’s voice faded for a second. “-get us home, alright?”

“I will.” Cormorant Two wiped his eyes, leading the stricken craft as fast as he would dare without risking it to fall completely apart. The only response he got to any further comms attempt were the deafening alarms of Wraith’s systems.

The flight back to base was the longest he’d ever had. Too long, a voice inside him said. He shut it down by focusing further on the gentlest slope down into Pascia’s atmosphere that his hurry would allow, keeping a close eye on the other craft which struggled to maintain control, the onboard computer doing its best to fly with the mangled remains of control surfaces.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant Two. I am declaring an emergency. I have Cormorant One’s craft with me, we need a clean runway and emergency vehicles for landing.” He never thought about one day remembering those procedures- they were Etel’s job after all. Yet they came to his mind as fresh as the day he’d learnt them.

“Fang, Pascia Tower. We were wondering what the other radar contact with you was- but all our strips are full. Go around, I repeat, go around and hold pattern.” Rence’s teeth clenched in anger.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant One needs immediate medical attention. We will be landing on first approach. Clear a runway or I’ll pick one to crash into.”

“Damnit.” The ATC operator stood up from his chair, trying to see which one was the least full with damaged spacecraft in one form or another. The entire airbase resembled an emergency field hospital more than anything else.

Rence grimaced at the grisly sight after finally dipping under the everpresent cloud cover- damaged or destroyed crafts as far as the eye could see, including several in flames which seemed unperturbed by either the rain or the efforts from the fire crews. 

“Fang, Pascia Tower. 21 is the best we can do right now. Good luck.” 

Lining up for the landing attempt, he could see several other fighters being hurriedly moved into the barren dirt, either by engine power or just human desperation. 

It was still a shorter length than he’d like, but it’d have to do. 

A harsh flare-up of the nose and full reverse thrust got his spacecraft onto the ground just after the warning lights, the landing gear groaning in protest but holding. He looked back at Wraith doing its best to emulate the maneuver, tyres hitting the wet tarmac with more force than they were ever designed for.

And the entire frame of the machine finally failing.

A shower of sparks defied the film of water that perpetually covered every surface, following the main cockpit and reactor shell while they slid their way down the runway, debris bouncing off of Fang’s shields. Rence disengaged the brakes, letting his ship roll along with the remains of what was once a proud electronic warfare fighter- 

-Hoping against hope he could still find Etel inside.

His boots hit the dark surface before either machine had fully stopped moving, climbing atop the broken form of Wraith and yanking the external emergency canopy ejection handle. Before the smoke from the explosive bolts cleared, the taller pilot had leaned inside.

A part of him wished he hadn’t.

“Etel? Etel!?” His hoarse pleas fell on deaf ears against the bloodied, unmoving body inside the cockpit. A pair of fingers against the side of a slender neck confirmed his fears. Before he could start any attempt at CPR, a warbled electronic tone caught his attention.

Only two screens inside the cockpit still worked, presumably off the emergency power supply on the main shell. One had a simple but darkly appropriate message.

E.O.L._

But the other seemed to be desperately trying to catch his attention despite intermittent failures.

WRAITH -> Lt. Rence

CORE BREACH IMMINENT

EJECTION SYSTEM FAILURE

MANUAL PILOT EJECTION REQUIRED_

It took him a second to process what the dying machine was requesting, followed by frantically undoing the clasps of the harness holding Etel’s body to the seat and doing his best to carry the smaller body, slick with oil and blood.

He could see an ambulance heading towards him while he sprinted full speed away from the remains of the craft with his lover’s unconscious- just unconscious. Nothing else.- body in his arms. 

“CORE BREA-” A wave of heat and force stopped his shout, flinging both forms forward and into the air.

Before his vision went dark, he could feel the hard ground meeting his back with large prejudice, and a softer impact on his chest- his arms still wrapped around the other pilot.

Etel was safe. He had to be.

Good.

Goo- 

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

A gasping breath and frantic eyes mark Rence’s return to consciousness. Before he could whip his head around, a soothing whisper coming from his chest took his attention. 

“I’m here. I’m here, everything’s fine. I’m fine.” The smaller body laying beside him, still firmly wrapped around his arms, caressed his hair gently with a delicate hand. 

“You fell asleep after relaxing when I got better.”

A long sigh escaped the taller pilot’s lips, leaning his head down to nuzzle against soft silver hair, a rougher hand carefully caressing the covers of Etel’s connection ports in his nape. 

“Sorry. I should be the one helping you, not the other way around.”

The flight lead pinched the top of one of Rence’s ears in a swift movement. 

“None of that, mister. We’ve been in this together in one way or another from the very start. I worry about you just as much as you worry about me.”

A small but meaningful smile coloured the brown haired man’s expression. “Fair enough.”

Etel nuzzled back happily against his lover’s chest, taking in his warmth, touch and scent. While they made his heart melt like always, a slender finger poked the other man regardless.

“And as much as I love your smell, you do need a shower.”

A moment passed in which the shorter pilot could hear loud sniffing from above his head. “Yeah, that last job did go on for a while. Coming with me?”

Purple eyes met brown ones, the perfect definition of the word ‘smug’ being encased in the synthetic orbs alone. 

“Technically I don’t need to. But I suppose I can grace you with my presence, yes.” Rence rolled his eyes.

“Well excuse me, princess. Not every peasant has a self-cleaning body.” If only because they were the second most expensive variant of shells, only behind military-focused versions. Let alone a teenager type with that feature.

For perhaps understandable reasons, younger-looking synthetic bodies with the suit of options that led themselves to the more carnal type of activity were still illegal in many places, though public opinion was largely divided in more recent years. It still made the price for one of them eye-wateringly high thanks to low supply and high demand.

“We could get you one, you know. You don’t have to keep suffering for no reason.” Etel’s expression softened while Rence groaned in discomfort at the effort of getting up from the bed after enough limbs were untangled, further proving the point.

“Eh, not yet. We’re the same age, you know. I’m not some washed up old man.” He yawned, stretching his back while walking into the bathroom. The ‘boy’ followed. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, your body’s just worn.” Synthetic hands indistinguishable from natural ones caressed a somewhat lean but toned body pockmarked with scars from shrapnel.

“Oh thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” Rence helped undo the clasps of Etel’s connection suit, most of his own clothing having been removed the moment the pair had entered the cheap but homely suite. 

Body warmth and touch was one of the few things that helped deal with the silver haired pilot’s spikes of PTSD, rooted in the endless, penetrating feeling of cold he’d experienced before dying. The fact that his brain was able to be recovered at all after almost an hour without blood flow with only minor damage was almost miraculous, even with interstellar-age medical science. 

The radiation burns, overpressure damage and puncture wounds that Rence had suffered in the core breach event, at least, were mostly healable without lingering effects.

Mostly.

“You’re just scared of the operation.” Etel’s unfairly beautiful face pouted, poking the taller man in the chest.

“It’s not exactly getting your ears pierced, you know. It’d take me months to get back up to speed. It took you more than a year to get that shell adjusted just right. And still-” His voice trailed off, a mix of consternation and concern colouring masculine, but refined, features.

The expression of the shorter member of the duo softened, a look of regret and pity that could bring the most unemotional of creatures to a halt, caressing the side of Rence’s face softly.

“You know the problem isn’t with the shell, love.” 

His fellow pilot sighed, wrapping his arms around the smaller form. “I know. But wanting to help you more and not being able to makes me feel so-”

“Like I always say, you already help. If it makes you feel better, I can look for another doctor next time we’re in a major hub. Is that better?” 

That would make it the twelfth doctor ever since they left the military.

“I- Yeah. Sorry I keep bothering you about it.” Etel stopped his bout of guilt with a kiss, caressing Rence’s tongue with his gently while their lips were locked together. 

A flick of the foot sent their clothes back in the general direction of the bed, before turning on the shower and enjoying his lover’s jolt of surprise at the initial stream of cold water before the heating element did its job.

“No need to say sorry, you silly. You bother me because you worry, you worry because you care.”

The silver haired ‘teenager’ poked his partner in the chest, looking up at his face with a smile.

“And you care because you love me.”

Said partner couldn’t help but smile back, warm water cascading down his messy hair. “You make it pretty easy.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just that irresistible.” 

Rougher hands wrapped themselves around Etel’s body when he turned around to close the shower box, pulling him back gently against Rence while the taller man nuzzled into the side of his neck, his slim but soft mechanical body following the instincts of the biological brain controlling it to lean back further into the touch, long eyelids fluttering closed over purple eyes.

“I love you. Please never leave me.” The whisper held such few words, but carried so much meaning from the very depths of the wingman’s being - the shorter of the pair, still melting under the sensation of the embrace and caresses, knew that. 

The haunted look he could see in the deceptively warm brown orbs of the taller man every single time he felt him awake in a cold sweat proved just how deep their connection went.

“I love you too, Rence. I promise I’m never going away again.” Etel tilted his head up and to the side, their mouths connecting once more. The flight lead smiled faintly into the kiss while he felt his lover’s body slowly relax against his back, the arms around him showing no sign of letting go. 

To the disappointment of both, the notification that they’d used 20% of their allocated daily water chimed just after hands had begun roaming around sensitive places and desire had joined love in the mixture of the kiss.

Through great willpower, the silver haired pilot managed to disentangle himself from his lover’s advances, even though it hurt his soul to do so. “Lat- later, later.” He turned around, grabbing the sponge from the recession in the wall and smacking Rence in the face with it playfully. “Shower first, sex later you horndog. Even if I have to scrub you myself.”

A muffled sigh of disappointment could be heard behind the cleaning implement, followed by an equally muffled whine.

Despite their best efforts- or Etel’s, at least -further kisses, embraces and caresses did inevitably take place. Perhaps to be expected, as it had been the case with every shower they’d taken together as lovers to one degree or another. By the time the water allotment ran out, Rence was softly running his fingers along silver hair. 

Hair that was slowly moving back and forth given that its owner was currently kneeled in front of him, letting out rather indecent moans- muffled as they were thanks to the taller of the pair’s member filling the mouth they were coming from.

In all fairness, they had managed to finish a thorough shower first. Just.

Not that Etel was thinking about that at the moment. Rather, higher thought processes weren’t really present in general- not when he had Rence’s heat and taste filling his mouth, combined with the scent of the man he loved, clean and pure. 

Having his hair petted while doing so only served to send him further into the realm of base instincts, letting his feelings be translated through the pleasure he was giving.

Not that he didn’t enjoy it himself. 

Much the opposite, the firm heat sliding against his lips, tongue and throat; the knowledge that it was Rence’s length that was taking him in that way, the reassuring sensation of his lover’s hands on him, they all combined into gentle but constant waves of pleasure running down his body. 

The clipped moans he could hear from above whenever his lips wrapped themselves around the base of the shaft certainly didn’t hurt either. It was one of the several things his shell allowed him to do that his original body couldn’t quite handle despite repeated attempts.

The combination of no gag reflex and secondary air intakes made for a very useful party trick.

“Etel, if you keep going-” Rence’s attempt at gently nudging the shorter pilot’s shoulder back was interrupted by a synthetic hand grabbing his firmly and holding it, and a further increase in the intensity of the act.

“I know. Gimme.” Through auxiliary speakers or not, the pleading whisper from the one person he loved the most only served to hasten his peak, the heat that’d built up behind his length flowing forward in bursts and being happily swallowed, the shaking of his body and gasps of breath happening in time with them.

A flurry of kisses followed, the taller pilot once again embracing Etel tightly- and caressing his body, one hand specifically sliding down his back before massaging his plump rear and finding the self-lubrication almost dripping from the entrance. 

The silver haired ‘teenager’ held back a moan when a finger started teasing his entrance, caressing the sides slick with excitement.

A breathy whisper was able to escape their kiss, just. “I’m already pretty close, dummy. I want to keep going in bed after we towel off.”

Rence deliberately slid his finger inside, gently rubbing against the sensitive bundle of synthetic nerves he’d long since memorized the placement of for a moment, stopping his lover’s swear of pleasure with another kiss before pulling away and grabbing a towel, doing his best to feign innocence. “Fair enough.” 

His smile easily betrayed the lie.

Etel’s stare could burn a hole through reinforced carbon weave- metaphorically of course. That option was not allowed in civilian shells. 

However, the muscular weave necessary to give a one hundred and fifty centimeters, two hundred kilogram body normal mobility was more than enough to carefully tackle the taller man into the bed the minute they’d both towelled off most of the water- and maneuver them so said man was on top.

Rence was familiar with this song and dance by now, not needing to reorient himself before kissing his lover again, tongues caressing eachother in a feeble attempt to convey the intensity of the feelings between the two.

The pair could kiss for the rest of time, and it’d still be a pale demonstration of the undying flame their souls burned together with. A hypergolic bond refreshed every single day for near on a decade. 

One might ask why not be officially married at that point, and the answer was merely that neither felt the need to- after all, marriages are until death. 

They were long past such trivial difficulties.

Powerful legs ending into slender feet locked themselves around Rence’s hips, further enticing the man while a pale hand caressed the engorging length pressed between the two, gently stroking it into full attention. 

The wingman had once asked why Etel kept his own member, mostly because of the strong reluctance the other part of the pair felt about it being touched at all, let alone used in any way, shape or form. After all, to change it for a female type would be trivial with his new body.

“I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not like it even fully works anyway. Even if it did, it’s definitely not big enough to be of much use. I guess it’s just a part of me I don’t mind being there, and our preferred option isn’t even a hassle to prepare anymore.” A familiar grin coloured his features at the mention of the benefits a synthetic shell provided.

It was one of the many quirks of the smaller person that he’d simply accepted. They were more than worth it, after all.

That, and Rence was pretty sure the little minx just really, really liked their ‘preferred option’.

A notion that was further proved with the way the flight leader downright purred in anticipation the moment his entrance was touched by his lover’s length, the blunt tip spreading it open thanks to the plentiful lubrication counteracting just how tight the silver haired ‘teen’ always was.

Striking purple eyes gazed lovingly at Rence through halfway-closed eyelids, hints of perspiration- unnecessary as it was -covering flawless skin painstakingly customized to recreate the original body his beloved inhabited. 

The taller pilot, for the umpteeth time, thanked every possible god that might exist for just how lucky he got to not have his little demon ripped away from him.

‘Angel’ wasn’t quite the right word after all.

Willpower fought the instinct to close his eyes at the sensation of Etel’s tight folds slowly swallowing his shaft when he carefully pressed their bodies closed together, all for the chance to watch his lover’s reaction. 

The way those beautiful violet orbs rolled back, the way he gripped whatever was available- most of the time that being Rence’s hair, a feeling he simply adored -to try and handle the sensation while his back arched, even the way a breathless moan was often coupled with an expletive.

It was all quintessentially Etel, and there was no force in the universe that could stop Rence from showering his shorter partner with growling kisses in a desperate attempt to convey what he was already saying between them. 

“I love you. So fucking much.”

Said beloved smiled while the words sent shivers down his spine, mixing with the electric waves spreading from his insides thanks to the deliciously hot and thick member filling them. The moment when he could feel his lover all the way inside him just before either began moving was perhaps his favourite, for one main reason.

He could feel Rence’s warmth and heartbeat. Around him, inside him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Much the opposite. 

He had the love of his life happily giving him all the intimacy he possibly could, every time he possibly could. The life they’d led wasn’t easy, but this-

This made it worth it a thousand times over.

 “I love you to-” his response was interrupted by a mix of whimper and moan rising in pitch thanks to the combined waves of pleasure spreading around his body- coming from his insides due to his lover having started to move, deliberately angling their bodies to make the tip of his length rub against the most sensitive spot Etel had.

The other point of origin was his chest, thanks to Rence happily caressing one of his nipples with his tongue while sucking it, and using a free hand to play with the other.

“Come on, all my weak points at once-” His whining was met with a stronger thrust, paired with a stronger suction and harsher flicking of the tongue. More than enough to force another moan out of him. “Godsdamned cheater.”

He simply got another passionate kiss for it, with the taller pilot sneaking a hand behind one of his shoulders to hold him close while continuing to thrust inside. 

The smaller body instinctively wrapped around his lover, hanging onto the man with legs and arms both, needing to be with him as much as humanly possible. 

Etel melted under Rence further while the waves of pleasure got more and more intense, manmade muscle fibers twitching in the overload of the sensors. 

Sensors purposely set by their owner to near maximum gain to reflect the way his original body wasn’t yet experienced enough to have the whole ordeal be anything less than overwhelming the few times it had the chance to do it.

“Rence-” Etel’s gasping voice, coloured by the sensation of his body melting in pleasure, repeated the name without stop- a mantra to deal with just how strong the sensation was, of his body peaking while feeling his lover all around and inside him. 

As close and intimate as they could physically get, two souls seeking eachother, to become whole. 

Even under the onslaught of physical signals, the shorter pilot’s heart fluttered when Rence slowed down somewhat while holding him back just as tight. Sacrificing his own pleasure just so Etel could enjoy his own climax more, fall even deeper in love.

If that was even possible.

The flight lead had no idea how much time had passed filled with breathless, shaky moans accompanied by a shivering body until his lover kissed him deeply again, deeper tones joining his song before liquid heat coated his oversensitive insides. 

Every bit of instinct left in his mind ordered shaking limbs to further lock around Rence, to not let him go. To never, ever let him go.

To simply bask in the warm, messy wetness and sweaty ball of hormones that the remains of Cormorant Squadron were at the moment.

Not that he had much of an option, considering the taller man was clinging to him just as tightly. Etel wouldn’t have it any other way.

The continuous kiss was only broken by his wingman nuzzling into the crook of the neck where silver hair came to a stop, three words being repeated once more yet not losing any of their power.

“I love you.”

Shivers of pleasure instead of anguish still emanated from his core at random intervals, but not enough to stop Etel from caressing Rence’s hair gently, coddling the man with all the affection of a newlywed bride. 

Maybe the flight lead would decide to be one someday, who knew. But for now, the relaxed smile while the two settled into a position more conducive to long-term comfort was physically unable to waver during his answer.

“I love you too, Rence.”

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

Strange wildlife cried in greeting of the rising sun, shrill tones emanated from odd, small lizard-like creatures breaking the peaceful silence of early day. One weary eyelid cracked open, protesting the rays slowly but inexorably marching their path across the two forms tangled in bed.

“Morning, hon. Slept well?” Etel’s light, melodic voice came from the body the taller pilot currently held close to him, both laying on their sides. Rence couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t slept with his lover’s back glued to his form, the one fit they’d settled in early on simply because it just felt right.

A groan slowly morphed into actual words, vocal chords as worn as the rest of his body taking a while to kick into gear. “Mm- yeah. Did you?”

He knew that brains placed into full-body shells didn’t have- nor could even achieve -the same type of rest normal humans had, but they still underwent a sort of ‘preventative maintenance’ to fulfill many of the same tasks.

Deleting useless information, organizing useful data, resetting chemical balance. 

But androids did not, in fact, dream of electric sheep.

Still, Etel used the time to practice a sort of self-reflection and meditation. That and watching shows on the extranet- after all, there is only so much mental self-care one can do every day for several hours while being held tight against a snoring man.

Gods be praised for AI-powered noise removal of audio inputs.

“Yeah, my night was nice.” Carefully crafted synthetic fingers caressed the rougher hand wrapped around a slim midsection and chest. “Also, you got a message a few hours ago.”

Brown eyes slowly focused on the desk nearby, the blinking light of his wrist device giving merit to the claim. A sigh followed.

“Who the hells messaged me in the middle of the gorramn dawn?” Stiff muscles stretched themselves under electrical orders from a brain protesting having to reach wakefulness, before curling themselves around the shorter pilot again.

Bright orange dots of plasma hovered in the air in front of Etel, tridimensional pixels being created by the laser emitters in his wrist. Rence had long since given up on trying to stop his partner from invading his personal messaging system. 

Or any other system for that matter.

Etel chuckled airily at the small huff coming from behind his head, a mix of fondness and incredulity at the specific sender having kept in contact for so long.

FANG -> PILOT

REQUEST STATUS REPORT

REQUEST Flt.Lead Etel STATUS REPORT

TEMP. PILOT UNSATISFACTORY_

Rence couldn’t help but smile at the sheer stubbornness of the Combat Intelligence. This was its eight ‘temporary pilot’ after the couple had left the military already.

The previous seven had also been deemed unsatisfactory.

“We also need to refuel-” The silver haired lover brought up a list in the holographic projection. It looked far too long for Cormorant Two’s tastes, so he simply groaned and hid his face in said locks of silky synthetic strands.

“- rearm-” Etel continued. Rence groaned more.

“- run maintenance checks-” The taller member of the pair whined in protest. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? We have four days.”

Cormorant One turned his head around as much as he could while still tangled in his partner’s limbs. It wasn’t much, but it served to convey his stance on the matter. 

“And if we find any issues, we’ll need these extra days to deal with them. Never do tomorrow what you can do today.”

“I hate you.” The response lacked any of the venom or hurt such words would be expected to. Both knew why.

“No you don’t.” Etel grinned, teasing.

“No, but I can pretend I do.” Rence pouted in response.

“No you can’t.” Etel grinned wider.

“Gods, you’re insufferable.” Yet the wingman smiled.

“That I am. And you love me anyway.” 

An annoyed yet amused face confronted an impossibly smug one. Neither mattered once their lips touched, parted by tongues seeking contact for the millionth time, to be followed by a million more.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Twenty - New Allies at Prufrock

“So you’re transferring from… Wade Academy?” 

Violet smiled, wishing quietly that Klaus hadn’t chosen a real school he could check up on. “Yes, sir. Our papers should have arrived last week. Perhaps they’re in your desk?” 

“Perhaps they’re in my desk! Well, I will check my desk.” 

Violet and Klaus shared exasperated looks as the Vice Principal bent over, rifling through the drawers that Violet had shoved their forged papers into several hours before. It hadn’t taken long for Klaus to get them into the school under assumed identities- this time, Emily and Liam Sonnenfeld- but fuck if dealing with the shitty Vice Principal wasn’t the hardest part. Violet swore she was a few minutes away from just stabbing him and calling it a day. 

Nero pulled out some papers, his brow furrowing as he scanned them. “Yes, these seem right…” he muttered. “Though I can’t quite remember contacting your previous school.” 

Violet quickly smiled and said, “Well, I’m sure a genius like you has more important things to worry about than some boring transfer students. Like your violin practice.” 

“Yes, indeed.” Vice Principal Nero nodded, smugness creeping across his face. “It’s nice to be appreciated. The last transfers- these two annoying orphans- wouldn’t stop bothering me. We’re not quadruplets, we’re twins. Why do we have to go to a shack? Such ungrateful children.” 

“Such ungrateful children.” Klaus echoed, looking like he wanted to die and also like he wasn’t paying much attention. 

“Now, I see your parents have signed here, and we luckily do have free rooms in the dorms. Boys is to the immediate right of the gym field, girls is to the immediate right of that. Emily, you will be studying with Mr Remora in Room One, while Liam, you will be with Ms Bass in Room Two.” 

“We can remember that, thank you.” Klaus said. 

“Were you told the rules of the school before you transferred?” 

“We are aware.” Violet sighed, remembering the list she’d managed to slip from the desk. “And we look forward to your recital tonight.” 

“You should! It’ll be six hours of pure delight.” 

“Absolutely.” Klaus nodded. “Thank you, Vice Principal, we’ll head to our dorms now.” 

“Yes. Liam, you will be rooming with…” Nero looked down at the list in front of him, as if he had no idea what student he was talking about. “Chase… something-or-other, I’m sure he’ll tell you. Emily, you will be rooming with Carmelita Spats.” 

Fuck. Roommates. Well, they’d figure something out. “Thank you, sir.” Violet said. “We’ll head out now, so you may get back to practicing.” 

“Yes, do.” 

Nero pulled out his violin as the children left, their plastic smiles falling once their backs were turned. They could hear his horrible playing even after they closed the door, and Violet said, “Do you remember what Father said, that one time we spent your birthday sleeping in the orchestra pit?” 

Klaus nodded, and then recited, “Children, there is no worse sound in the world than somebody who cannot play the violin who insists on doing so anyway.” 

“We’re skipping that recital.” 

“Hell yeah.” 

“Let’s check on Sunny.” 

“Good idea.” 

They knelt by the edge of the hall, and Klaus pulled his bag off, flipping it open. “How tight are you in there, sunshine?” 

Sunny glanced up at him, huffing a little. She did not like the fact she had to hide, as Prufrock did not admit toddlers. “Amygdala,” she said, which meant something akin to, “It’s quite claustrophobic.” 

“Well, you’re alive. And you can keep biting that can.” Violet sighed. “Just stay quiet, okay? We’ll find out which of our roommates is cooler and then let you out.” 

“Ugh.” Sunny groaned. 

“It’s this or live in that weird shack by the cafeteria.” Klaus said, before closing his bag again. 

The siblings stood up, and Violet said, “Alright, to the dorms. We’ll find our way there, then… should we skip class? Our teachers won’t actually have our names down for attendance.” 

“Yeah, fuck that.” 

“Fuck that.” 

They went to Violet’s dorm first, managing to find the right room after swiping some fruit from some bowls in the hall and occasionally stuffing something small and expensive-looking into their jacket pockets. Violet slid the door open, walking in and making a face. “This room’s awful.” 

“Those windows don’t seem to lock.” Klaus observed, shaking his head. 

“Closet is fucking tiny.” Violet said. “Where are you supposed to hide?” 

Klaus knelt by a bed, flipping the blanket up. “No room under here.” 

“These plants look fake.” Violet moved to the sidetable, lifting a leaf. “Oh, yeah. Plastic. Wonder what this dirt is made of.” She stuck a hand in. “Oh my God, Klaus, I think this is coffee.” 

“Holy shit.” Klaus started to giggle. “That sounds like a dream, though. Secret coffee.” 

“You don’t like coffee.” 

“Yeah but it’s still fun. Secret coffee.” 

“Secret coffee.” Violet giggled. 

Before they could do more, the door opened, and a girl skipped in. She stopped dead in her tracks, her tap shoes slamming onto the ground. 

“What are you cakesniffers doing in my room?” 

Violet sighed, sharing a glance with Klaus, the two of them considering. Then she smiled and turned back to the girl- she looked about the same age as her brother. “Hello. I’m Emily Sonnenfeld, I’m your new roommate.” 

“No!” the girl dropped her bright schoolbag on the ground and then stomped in frustration. “I don’t need a roommate! And I need the second bed for mid-day naps! What the hell? I told Vice Principal Nero that I didn’t need anyone else!” 

Violet and Klaus both watched each other as she continued to rant, silently communicating different ideas. Finally, Violet walked in front of the girl and said, “Carmelita, right?” 

“Of course. Only the smartest, prettiest, humblest girl in the whole wide school.” 

“I’m sure you’re right about that.” Violet smiled. “Now, listen. You’ve made it clear you don’t want a roommate.” 

“Uh, yeah! I’m going to go straight to Vice-” 

“No need for that.” Violet smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. “Listen, that’ll just be a whole thing, he’ll have to rearrange shit, and that gives him less time to practice the violin. He gets so angry when he’s interrupted.” 

Carmelita paused, something flashing across her face, and then she crossed her arms and huffed. “But I don’t want you here!” 

“Well, how about a deal?” Violet pulled her hair back, and smiled down at her. “It turns out, I would much prefer to room with my brother Liam. We don’t like being separated, because we know too many secrets about each other. So how about you let me know where we can find an empty room, and I pretend we’re roommates so none of us get in trouble?” 

Carmelita narrowed her eyes, looking the girl up and down. Then she said, “You won’t bother me?” 

“Only if you bother me first.” 

“Deal, Em. Follow me, there’s an empty room near the storage closet. Drafty, but I sometimes practice dance in there. Guess I can practice in here instead.” 

“Don’t worry, Carm, sweetie.” Violet smiled, before smirking at Klaus. “We’re not staying long.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re only here til our parents are back from their trip. Then we’re out of your hair.” 

“Good. Less cakesniffers in this school.” 

“What does ‘cakesniffer’ mean?” Klaus asked. 

“It means you’re stupid cakesniffers.” Carmelita huffed. Then she marched out of the room and said, “It’s this way, come on.” 

“I don’t think ‘cakesniffers’ is a compliment.” Klaus muttered. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

Carmelita shoved them towards the empty room and then skipped back to her room, grumbling about stupid new kids. Violet strolled in, smiling at the empty space; a few pillows and blankets were shoved into the corner, and there were some dark blinds over the window, but aside from that, the room was bare. 

“We can sleep right here, by the door.” Violet said, swishing her foot across the space she indicated. “I can block it. As for the window…” she pulled her ribbon out, tying her hair back excitedly. “I can make us a break-in alarm. A string and a bell, shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll have knives under our pillows if someone gets in- not you, Sunny, you’ll sleep inbetween us.” 

Klaus was pulling the infant from his backpack, finally releasing her onto the floor. She huffed and crawled over to the window, biting on the edge of a blind. 

Violet pulled on her ribbon and said, “I saw a stairwell to the roof. We can camp out there and watch for our parents- or, well, other pursuers. There looked like a library building, Klaus, so you can swipe books from there to keep you and Sunny entertained.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’ll find something to invent, don’t worry. Or I can just be the one keeping watch.” 

“No, you’re gonna swap out with us cause we’re a family and we work together.” 

“No, we’re a family and I’m in charge.” 

“Violet, come on-” 

“Gac!” Sunny shouted, pointing out the window. 

Violet ran over, lifting up her sister and immediately retreating a few steps. Klaus ran to the window, lifting up the blinds to see what Sunny had noticed. 

“There’s a couple kids.” he said. “They’re… going towards that old shack. Probably won’t stay long.” 

“That reminds me, what do you think’s in there?” 

Klaus shrugged. “Supplies?” 

“Why don’t we find out?” Violet slid Sunny onto the floor. 

“Violet, come on-” 

“We wanna know every inch of this place, right? And if there’s weapons in there, we wanna know about it.” 

“What sorta school would store weapons-” 

“Don’t you remember what Mother said? Anything could be a weapon. And if they’ve got supplies- shovels, wrenches, odd tools-” 

“Alright, I get it.” 

“Sunshine, stay here.” Violet said, looking over at her sister. “Guard our shit. If someone comes in, either hide in the pile of blankets or bite their toes off.” 

Sunny saluted her. “Aye-aye!” 

“Should we really leave her-” 

“We can’t take her outside. Do you want to stay with her while I investigate?” 

Klaus hesitated, looking between his sisters. Sunny looked up at him and said, “Nef,” meaning something like, “I’ll be fine, Klaus. I’ll scream if I need help, you’re only a few feet away.” 

“If you’re sure-” 

“Ye!” 

“Okay… be careful.” 

Sunny nodded, and Violet opened the window, jumping out. “Come on, Klaus.” 

He followed her out, sliding to the ground while she waited for him, bouncing on her feet. When he landed, she said, “Hey, race you to the shack.” 

“We’re not babies, Violet.” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Readysetgo!” 

Klaus laughed and took off, and Violet froze in shock and indignation a moment, before shouting, “You little cheater, get back here!” 

She tore across the lawn, trying to catch up to his head start. Klaus was never the most athletic Baudelaire, but even he could run pretty well and pretty fast, mainly due to their parents making sure all their kids could survive well enough alone. Still, Violet managed to catch up just before they reached the shack, though she did smile and slow herself a little so Klaus could hit the side. It creaked slightly, and he laughed. “I win!” 

“Only cause you cheated.” 

“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy.” 

“You little shit.” 

“Hey, you owe me, I got hypnotized.” 

“Fine, fine, you win. Now let’s see what we’ve got in here-” 

Violet opened the shack door, and then stared, absolutely astonished. 

The shack had fungus dripping from the ceiling, as well as crabs scuttling across the floor. It also had two piles of hay, upon which were sitting the two kids who’d passed by before. A small photo was tacked to the wall, looking like it’d been clipped from a newspaper, and schoolbags were tossed haphazardly onto the floor. The shack barely looked big enough for both children, who were now sitting up and staring in bewilderment at the girl standing in front of them. 

Violet stared a moment, and then said, “Uh, Klaus? I think this is a dorm.” 

“What?” Klaus looked in the doorway, and then stepped back. “What the fuck? Is this some kind of… what was that movie we saw? Where the bad kids had to sleep in the creepy basement?” 

“This isn’t a basement, Klaus, it’s a health and safety hazard.” 

“Excuse me?” the boy said, sitting up straighter and rubbing his eyes. “Who are you?” 

“New kids.” Violet sighed, leaning against the doorway. “What are you doing in this deathtrap?” 

“It’s our shack.” the girl said. 

“What do you mean, it’s ‘your shack?’” 

“We mean it’s the Orphans Shack and we have to live here.” 

“What the actual shit?” 

“Okay, listen,” Klaus said, stepping away from the doorway. “Get out here. We can’t talk to you while you’re sitting in there.” 

Carefully, the two students walked out, very confused. Violet bit her lip to keep from asking why they left their schoolbags in there, and instead slammed the door and said, “Okay, explain. What’s this shit?” 

“Who the hell are you?” the girl snapped. 

“Emily and Liam Sonnenfeld.” Violet said, gesturing between them. 

“You just called him ‘Klaus.’” the boy said. 

Violet shut her eyes, stifling a groan, while Klaus started rapidfire swearing under his breath. 

“Look. Tell us who you are and about your shack, and we’ll tell you our shit, okay?” Klaus said. 

The two students glanced at each other; in the light, the Baudelaires realized that they must be siblings, as they were pretty much identical, the only difference being the girl having longer hair and the boy having a green notebook instead of a black in his pocket. Eventually, the girl turned back to them and said, “Isadora Quagmire. This is my brother, Duncan. We’re in the Orphans Shack because we’re orphans.” 

“I don’t follow.” Violet said. 

“Your parent or legal guardian needs to sign a permission slip for you to sleep in the dorms.” Duncan said, glaring at the ground. “And we don’t have parents, and the executor of our parents’ estate dumped us here cause orphans aren’t In, so we have to sleep out here.” 

“Well that is absolute pigshit.” Violet said. She kicked the side of the shack and said, “There’s plenty of empty rooms in the dorms.” 

“There is?” Isadora asked, a spark of anger in her eyes. 

“Yeah.” Violet shrugged. “We just found an empty room to ourselves so we don’t have to split up.” 

“Son of a…” Duncan muttered. 

“I’m going to kill Nero.” Isadora said. “That bastard’s days are at their end / He won’t last til next weekend.” 

Klaus hesitated, and then tugged Violet’s sleeve. Let me try something. “You said you were orphans?” 

“Yeah.” Isadora sighed. 

She fell silent, so Duncan was the one who eventually said, “We lost our parents in a terrible fire.” 

Violet and Klaus exchanged a look. “VFD bullshit?” Violet said. 

“VFD bullshit.” 

“You guys say the word ‘shit’ a lot.” Duncan noted. 

“What’s VFD?” Isadora asked. 

“Long story.” 

Isadora hesitated, then reached into her pocket, and pulled something out. “Does it have something to do with this?” 

She held out, to their astonishment, half of a VFD spyglass. The Eye was etched into the front, and she pointed to it, saying, “Those initials are kinda… there.” 

Violet and Klaus exchanged a look. “Do you think-” 

“It was the last place our parents told us to go.” 

“Makes sense to gather possible recruits together.” 

“Should we lead a jailbreak?” 

“That’ll just get them grabbed faster. Not everyone can last on the streets, and if their parents-” 

“And they leave orphans outside where they can get grabbed.” 

“We’re going to have to do double lookout.” 

“No sleep for us, then.” 

“Our main goal is to protect Sunny. And-” 

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Isadora snapped. 

The Baudelaires paused, having been lost in their plans. They turned back, scanning the kids over. 

“Definite targets.” Violet said. 

“Definite.” 

“So we’re gonna wanna jailbreak them first.” 

“Yeah, we can do that.” 

“Come with us, Quagmires.” Violet said, gesturing for them to follow. “You can sleep in our dorm. The more the merrier.” 

“Excuse me, what?” Duncan said. 

“We’ll explain in there.” Klaus said. “Get your bags and your stuff.” 

“What the-” 

“We’ll explain everything there.” Violet said. She reached out, putting a hand on Isadora’s shoulder. “Promise. But you’re going to have to come with us. Also, you’re going to have to not talk to anyone about us at all.” 

“What?” 

“Hurry up.” 

The Quagmires glanced at each other, and then Duncan said, “Can we trust you?” 

Klaus, in response, pulled Josephine’s spyglass from his jacket pocket. 

The Quagmires stared at it, and then Isadora said, “I’ll get our bags.” 

“So, let me get this straight.” Duncan said. 

He flipped his commonplace book back a page or two, where’d he’d taken notes on the Baudelaires’ explanation. The children had split the pile of blankets and pillows between each other and now had them all in a circle, sitting at the edge to face each other. Sunny, who had taken an immediate shine to the newcomers, had crawled onto Isadora’s lap and now was chewing on her jacket. Thankfully, Isadora didn’t seem to mind, and in fact was currently fixing Sunny’s ponytail. Violet rocked back-and-forth slightly, hugging her bag, while Klaus fiddled with his shirt and glanced between the Quagmires. 

“Oh, buddy,” Violet sighed, “You’re not getting anything straight with us.” 

“Same.” Isadora smirked. 

“So, your parents were in a cult that has these spyglasses. So, apparently, that means our parents were in the cult, too.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“They tried to leave and got framed for a crime- except they did commit the crime so it wasn’t framing, technically.” 

“Technically.” Klaus nodded. 

“You all have been on the run your whole lives, except now your parents were kidnapped by this Olaf guy, and he wants to kidnap you so he can torture and kill you in front of your parents.” 

“Pretty much.” 

“And you’ve been jumping from place-to-place waiting for them to escape on their own, and you forged papers to get in here and hide out.” 

“That’s it.” 

“Olaf and his troupe can and will kill anyone near you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“So we’re in danger.” Isadora said. 

“Well, yeah.” Klaus said. “Which is an issue. But consider, would we rather keep you near us until we can find out how to break you outta here, or leave you alone in a shack to inevitably get kidnapped by a cult?” 

“That does seem reasonable.” Duncan said. 

“No, it doesn’t!” Isadora said. “Duncan, I’d rather not be hunted by a psycho!” 

“And I’d rather not be grabbed a cult.” 

“Look, maybe- maybe it’s different, if Mother and Father were there-” 

“Would explain why they were gone all the time.” 

“Seriously? You’re going to doubt them?” 

“I’m not going to join a cult just because of them, no!” 

“And I’m not losing another brother!” 

Violet and Klaus scooted back, a little startled. Sunny paused her biting, staring up at Isadora in confusion. Duncan gasped a little, and then he slid his commonplace book into his pocket, fighting back tears. 

“Bro?” Sunny asked. 

Isadora swallowed, taking slow breaths and trying to calm herself down. Then she nodded. “We- we’re triplets.” 

“Our brother, Quigley, died in the fire.” Duncan said. 

Violet’s eyes widened in sympathy, and then she moved over, taking Duncan’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” 

“That must be horrible.” Klaus said. He looked over at Sunny, who crawled off of Isadora’s lap and over to him, lifting her arms so he could pick her up. He did, cradling her close. “I can’t imagine losing a sibling.” 

“It’s- it’s bad enough being separated from our family.” Violet shivered. “But… dead…” 

Isadora stared hard at the ground, and Duncan slowly leaned over, putting his head on Violet’s shoulder. She wrapped an arm around him, and Klaus scooted over to Isadora, holding out his hand for her. 

Isadora, however, said, “You recognized we were VFD before you saw the spyglass. It was when we said our house burned down.” 

Klaus hesitated. “Uh-” 

“Did the fire- did that have something to do with it?” Isadora looked over at him, pleading with her eyes. “What about the fire tipped you off?” 

Klaus and Violet exchanged another look. Be careful. “Houses burning down and orphaning children are… common. In VFD.” Violet said. 

“When Firestarters find out where Volunteers live.” Klaus said. “Or… or in some, some extreme cases… when Volunteers won’t give up their children…” 

Duncan and Isadora looked up sharply, and then stared at each other. “So…” Isadora said, her voice breaking, “So it was their fault?” 

“I- it’s probable-” 

“Then they could kill Duncan, too.” Isadora shivered. 

“Well, I mean-” Violet stumbled. “Probably not intentionally, you know? But like- I won’t lie-” 

“Why did you tell us this?” Isadora looked sharply at her. “Why would you tell us all of this? Why do you trust us?” 

Violet opened her mouth to answer, and then paused. Why had she trusted them so quickly? Did she just want a connection? Was she just full of righteous fury at seeing them in a shack? Was she just so desperate to talk to somebody about what was going on…? 

She looked up at them again, and then her eyes flickered to the half-spyglass in Isadora’s hands, and then she realized. 

“I guess I just would rather have you with us,” she said, “Then leave you alone to suffer with no preparation. I…” 

She looked to Klaus for help, and he nodded, understanding. He edged Sunny off of his lap, and then leaned forwards, grabbing a hand from each triplet. 

“Our Mother told us once,” he said, “That if you’re in danger, it’s better to know you are so you can prepare. If you don’t know, then it hits you by surprise. It might be a better buildup, because you’re not living in fear, but then when it happens, you have less a chance of getting out alive. And the most important thing is to stay alive. Live to fight another day, because…” 

“Spero.” Sunny said. 

Klaus smiled, and translated. “Because if you live another day, that day might be the one that makes things better.” 

Duncan and Isadora both stared down at his hands, and then Duncan started to cry, followed quickly by his sister. 

“Besides,” Violet added, hoping to lighten the mood, “I’d rather you be in here than dying in a shack.” 

“Yeah.” Isadora nodded, smiling slightly as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Yeah, I- I would’ve done the same- the same thing-” 

“Quigley would’ve done the same, too.” Duncan muttered. 

Violet held out her arms, and everyone scrambled into a group hug.

[merkissescanhealyou]

ROMANCE HEADCANONS

name:  Marius

nickname:  N/A

gender:  Agender/Intersex (prefers male pronouns)

romantic orientation:  Poly Pan, but prefers masculine presenting people

preferred pet names:   “My love,” “darling,” “my darling,” “dearest,” “my dear,” mushy things sweet enough to rot teeth.

relationship status:  Verse-dependent

favorite canon/fandom ship:  Bush Medicine is my otp, bruhs. Medicest and Gentle Surgery come in at a close second. Support Sandwich is my ot3. I’m open to all ships, though, as long as there’s chemistry.

favorite crossover ship: I’ve only rped in the tf2 community.

opinion on true love:  He wants it so bad--But funny enough, he doesn’t believe he deserves it. He has an ongoing internal war about his decision to leave his clan, and because he did that, he sacrificed love for his freedom. He thinks that’s how it’s supposed to be. If someone comes along and changes that, you’ll have a remora attached to you instead of a merm.

opinion on love at first sight:  Believes in it, wants it to happen to him. He falls hard and fast, which is something that can get him trouble.

how ‘romantic’ are they?:  Think sappy romance movies. Once he’s in love, he’s too far gone to bring him back to earth. He loves to be tender and intimate with his partner(s), take care of them, shower them in caresses and kisses. He likes to remember the little things, whether it be their favorite pattern of clothing or their least favorite dish.

ideal physical traits: Fit, toned, chubby, athletic, thicc, stronk--he doesn’t care as long as he falls in love with their personality as well.

ideal personality traits:  Marius is a child at heart. He’s always curious, excitable, ready to learn. He prefers someone who’s the opposite of that:  mature, patient, compassionate. He wants someone who is willing to help him if needs help, inspires him to better himself. Passionate is also a big must, as he is very passionate himself.

unattractive physical traits:  He’s less likely to be with a woman or female-presenting person, but it’s not impossible. Sharp teeth, specifically shark-like teeth. He’s terrified of sharks, and if he comes across any other mers or mersharks, it’s gonna take him a while to adjust to their teeth. 

unattractive personality traits:  Controlling/manipulative, loud, cocky/arrogant, know-it-all, abrasive

ideal date:  He’d love anything they do together. Just spending time with them is enough for him. Though, if he had to absolutely choose something, it’d be stargazing. If you get him to talk about the moon, you’ve scored some high points but be prepared to get your ear chewed off.

do they have a type?:  Not really?? No, that’s a lie--someone strong enough to lift his fishbutt when they need to. Glasses are a plus. 

average relationship length: His previous relationship was about 3 years. But I don’t think that’s enough to go judging what his average relationship length. 

preferred non-sexual intimacy: Spooning (he likes to be the little spoon), playing with his partner(s’)’s hair and having his played with, hand-holding, falling asleep in each other’s arms, rubbing soothing circles or lines with his thumb or fingers on their skin

commitment level:  Let’s put it this way:  he’ll never cheat, and he’ll be as loyal as a dog. 

opinion of public affection:  Yes. All of the hugs and kisses and hand-holding.

past relationships?: He was with a tentaspy, Lamarr. Things didn’t work out because he wasn’t ready to commit, and his feelings weren’t as strong as his partner’s. 

(Technically) Tagged by:  @bushmannsrules Tagging:  @klein-klaus @stilettostab @abloodygoodjob @kaboombabe @pushspacetocontinue @fraulinekritzkrieg @burning-blu 

[butterflyinthewell]

Old fanfic: Get Off My Island!

Era: Heisei era

- Written in 2006, so my writing skills were less polished then. -

Characters: Shezilla, Godzilla and Zilla (GINO to some!).

Summary: An unwelcome guest takes up residence on the island Godzilla and Shezilla call home. With Godzilla off foraging for food, Shezilla has to fight for her territory alone. 

* * * TW: Violence, blood and a bit of poop. * * *

The dialogue in italics are noises and gestures translated into words. Translations would appear in subtitles if this was a real movie. I'm pretending all monsters have a "common language" so they can always communicate with each other regardless of species.

I love this piece. It showcases Shezilla’s personality so well. She doesn’t take kindly to invaders of her space and neither do I! ;)

GFW Goji gif is appropriate because Shezilla has the same build and moves the same way. Just paint the suit granite gray, toss on a Heisei era head and (slightly smaller) dorsal spines and you’ll have a girl with attitude.

Fanfic beyond the cut.

---

---

o

Get Off My Island!

o

Shezilla stirred to awareness in the deep blue of the calm ocean. It was the first time she'd opened her eyes after hibernating the winter's coldest months away. She found a gleaming reactor core waiting for her - clearly a gift left by Godzilla. He always woke up first and left her a little present before taking off to find himself a meal. Shezilla drew the reactor to herself and felt the familiar prickle as her body absorbed the radiation. Her small, silvery dorsal plates flickered, the heat in them causing the water in her vicinity to boil. After she drained the reactor, she cast it aside and pushed up with her whole body. The powerful movements of her body and tail dislodged various barnacles, remoras and even bits of coral that took root on her hide while she slept. What didn't come off on its own got scraped off when Shezilla paused to groom herself with her long claws.

Finally, after nearly an hour of swimming off her stiffness, Shezilla surfaced near the island her and Godzilla called 'home'. The familiar rocky shores, white sand, brown mountains and a lush green jungle growing in a huge gorge were a welcome sight. It was mid-day, muggy and clear, the sun a brilliant white flare in the blue sky. For a moment Shezilla just enjoyed the sparkles on the water. She even grunted and rolled over on her back to let the sun bake her belly.

The kaiju female may have remained on her back all day. But something captured her attention. Shezilla rolled over and swam slowly towards the beach. Her eyes were drawn to a large pile of black feces on the the sand. Wastes told her a lot about her mate's health, like how much he ate and whether or not he was in season. Shezilla had taught her mate how to dig a hole in the sand and bury his business afterward - and he did, most of the time, so it really irritated her to find his nasty black filth just sitting in the sun to stink up the island.

Wait...black? Godzilla produced many interesting colors, but black was not among them. Shezilla moved closer. The sand had no drag marks from his tail. The footprints were narrow with less toes. Shezilla could not count, but she could tell the difference between more and less. She bent to sniff the feces and smelled fish. It definitely was not her mate's doing. Godzilla liked to eat whales, not fish. Shezilla growled low in her throat and stepped around the mess, her nostrils flaring at the unfamiliar scent hanging around the footprints. Her gold eyes narrowed, snarl lines appearing on her nose and cheeks. Her lips pulled away to bare one fang.

Intruder, Shezilla thought, now very wary and alert to every sound. She cautiously followed the footprints until they vanished into the jungle. The fishy, leathery scent was strongest there, so she knew she found the intruder's hiding place. Shezilla felt small prickles of fear rise up her spine. Charging into the jungle wasn't a wise idea - for all she knew the intruder could be stronger than her.

Shezilla opened her mouth and roared. "I know you're in there!"

Trees rustled, then stilled. Whoever hid there did not come out.

"Come out!" Shezilla howled again.

When that failed to get a decent response, Shezilla hauled off and kicked one of the boulders near her feet. It flew up into the air and disappeared into the trees with a loud crash.

"Owww!" cried the intruder, its roar hoarse and screechy. "This is my island! Go away!"

"YOUR island?!" Shezilla's gold eyes widened. Her fear became anger. This was HER island, her home! How dare this fool come here and invade it! She snarled, "You must be mistaken. This is MY island."

"It was empty when I came here." hissed the hidden creature.

"Because I was enjoying my winter's sleep," Shezilla replied coarsely. "You're not welcome here. Leave!"

She heard a low growling sound. Then, suddenly, a silver-gray form emerged from the trees. The creature had a large, flat head with glowing golden eyes and triangular gray spines running down its back. Its body was muscular while its arms and legs were very lean, and its posture was decidedly horizontal. Long black talons tipped its fingers and toes. Yet despite its menacing face and gleaming claws, the creature only came to Shezilla's throat.

Zilla regarded this unfamiliar female curiously. He knew she was female by her scent. Her wet hide was granite gray, bright and glistening against the sky. She glared at him through narrowed light gold eyes. Her fangs were bared, gleaming in the light, and she had bone white claws that rivaled his own in length. She stood upright on muscular legs and flat feet. He could see a hint of her dorsal plates glittering over her shoulder. Her arms were shorter than his, but also viciously muscular.

"Well?" Shezilla puffed out her chest and shook her shoulders. This caused her dorsal plates to slam together, creating a deafening clang. "Are you going to leave?"

Zilla hunched himself down until only his head was visible above the jungle foliage. "What if I don't feel like leaving?"

Shezilla's lips twitched into a half smile. "You want to leave."

"You know..." his glowing eyes arched in a grin, "you are quite lovely."

"You're not my type," Shezilla clenched her fists, "I'm taken anyway."

"Pity. You're probably wasting your time with him, whoever he may be." Zilla huffed and stood up again.

"Wasting my time?" Shezilla growled deep in her chest. Not only did this creature invade her territory, he also insulted her mate! She closed her fingers and her knuckles all cracked one after the other. The rumbling crackles rebounded off the mountainsides. "Now listen here, you pathetic, fish-eating excuse of an iguana! You invaded my island, you insulted my mate and your ugly presence offends me. Now for the last time—" she roared and ignited her dorsal plates, "LEAVE!"

Zilla wasn't about to let a mere female push him around. He hissed and snapped his jaws. "Make me!"

"Very well, then." Shezilla's plates brightened and crackled. A blue-white glow formed in her throat. She reared back and spat her atomic ray into the trees.

But Zilla proved as quick as his wit and leapt clear of Shezilla's ray. The blue-white beam vaporized trees and dug a molten trench in the ground. Steam that smelled like ozone rose from superheated water in the soil. Shezilla hissed. Zilla had jumped against the sun. She cursed its glare...where did he go?!

"You're mine!" Zilla crashed down on Shezilla's back. He was heavier than he looked and Shezilla tumbled with the impact. He locked his jaws around her largest dorsal plate and yanked backwards. Sharp shooting agony raced down Shezilla's back. Shezilla felt her lips pull back in a rictus of pain. A startled cry wrenched itself from her throat. Zilla grabbed her shoulders and shook his head like a dog with a toy, trying to rip the plate off her spine. She bucked beneath him, but he had such a good grip that he wouldn't be shaken off.

"Get off me!" Shezilla's spines glowed again. They heated so fast that the spit in Zilla's mouth boiled. His eyes widened. He screamed bloody murder and rolled off her back. She stared down at him, twitching her fingers, "Feel like leaving yet?"

"Gimme a kiss and I might consider it." Zilla grinned. Some of his jagged teeth were singed black. He dragged himself back to his feet and sand clung to his lean body.

Once again, Shezilla rattled her spines in warning and wrinkled her nose. She kept tabs on Zilla's feet, noticing they were moving."You're disgusting!"

Shezilla saw Zilla's clawed toes dig into sand and rocks. His body angled itself more forward. He was going to charge. The female widened her stance in the same instant her opponent raced forward. Sand and rocks were thrown aside by his huge toe claws. He came closer and closer. He was almost upon her. At the very last second she sidestepped. She caught his head under her arm and fell backwards, driving his face into the sand. Too hard, it seemed, for he couldn't easily free himself! Shezilla grabbed the struggling Zilla's tail.

"Here, I'll help you out." she snickered. Then her muscles bulged as she yanked Zilla up by the tail. Only, she didn't let go. She swung him above her head and slammed him against the rocky ground. Then she lifted him up and did it again. Once. Twice. Three times. Each slam shook the beach. All Zilla could do was protect his head with his hands and arms until Shezilla flung him aside like a worthless toy.

Zilla smashed back-first into the rocky cliff. Pieces of it crashed down with him when he slid to the ground. He shook the sand and dirt off his face, coughing on the grit stuck in his throat. His body ached from the slamming. Dark red blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He heard Shezilla coming and jerked himself aside. Her claws smashed the boulder his head occupied a second previous. The boulder broke into several jagged pieces...that could've been his skull!

They froze that way - Shezilla with her fist to the ground and Zilla arching his back. Their eyes were locked, glowing in anguish and determination. The only sounds were the ocean lapping the shore, their heavy breathing and the occasional low growl. Shezilla's lips twitched away from her fangs.

Suddenly, Zilla dashed down the beach at seventy miles an hour. He was heading for the lowest cliff that jutted over the jungle's edge.

"Oh, no you don't!" Shezilla took off after him, angling her body forward and lifting her tail off the ground. She ran like an olympic sprinter, her feet smashing everything she stepped on. Zilla glanced over his shoulder. He was shocked to find her almost right beside him. Looking back also slowed him down. Shezilla passed Zilla. She ramped off a slanted boulder and leapt at the cliff. Then she threw her feet forward and kicked off the cliffside, gaining even more height. In one graceful motion, she twisted around in the air like a feline and dropped across Zilla's back. Zilla couldn't handle Shezilla's weight and his legs collapsed. They both rolled across the sand, dazed by the impact. Shezilla recovered first, her heart fluttering from the effort of running. She began to pummel the mutated iguana's head and ribs, each impact echoing across the island. Zilla shrieked as each blow jarred his bones. He snapped until he caught her fist in his teeth and squeezed, dragging her off his back. He did a standing leap onto the cliff, which was as high as Shezilla's chin. Shezilla lost sight of him.

"This isn't over!" she screeched, digging her claws into the cliff and using sheer upper body strength to haul herself up. Her bitten hand ached, angering her even more. Zilla was waiting for her. She snarled up at him. "Coward!"

The air cracked like a whip and Zilla's tail became a blur. Searing pain struck Shezilla's face. Her head jerked sideways and her blood splattered on the rocks. A thin red wound opened up near her left eye. She touched her cheek and blinked at the crimson streaks on her claws. He...he cut her face! Even if it healed in a minute...he still cut her beautiful face.

That really pissed her off.

"You are DEAD for that!" Shezilla screamed. She saw Zilla sprint up the jagged, rocky path leading into the mountains. He was leading her away from the solid, flat ground to a place where her footing wasn't always assured. Shezilla heaved herself onto her feet. A being like her looked utterly out of place on top of the cliff she stood on. She was covered in dust that fell off her in wispy clouds.

You're not getting away that easily! Shezilla snarled silently, watching him. She followed her opponent at a slower pace, studying how he jumped and wove around the sunbaked rocks. The sound of a roaring waterfall echoed up from the gorge. It fed a deep lake attached to a river that lead into the sea on the opposite side of the island. Shezilla's lips twitched...so that was where he headed. She wasn't much a fan of breathing freshwater, it smelled terrible, but it did taste nice and do wonderful things to her skin.

Zilla was almost in a panic - he hadn't expected Shezilla to follow him up the cliff! She proved more agile than she looked. He needed a hiding place she couldn't get into, and fast! She wasn't able to jump like he did and only ran in short bursts...if he could just exploit that weakness, he might be able to—

He smelled ozone. Shezilla's ray rushed towards him. He ducked it. The mountain top above him exploded in a shower of rocks.

Shezilla rushed Zilla when he crouched. She waded through the rock slide like it was nothing. Zilla screeched and did something unexpected - he lunged! Unprepared, Shezilla halted her advance. He kicked his foot out and scraped his huge toe talons across her chest. Sparks flew. Pain made Shezilla see stars and she smelled her own blood. Three diagonal red gashes marked her torso like war stripes. Zilla's claws were covered in it, too, like some kind of morbid nail polish. She blindly flailed her arms, catching the side of his head with her claws. His darker blood splattered all over her arm and flowed freely from the four slashes she opened on his cheek. He wrapped his jaws around her throat and began to squeeze.

"I hate to damage such a lovely face," growled Zilla, his glowing eyes narrowing, "but I've had enough of your attitude."

"So says the one who invades territory that isn't even his." Shezilla panted back just as Zilla's powerful jaws cut off her air. Her chest heaved uselessly, burning from the wounds, and she once more called upon the nuclear engine that powered her life.

Zilla's eyes widened. Shezilla's body got a lot warmer all of a sudden. Before he could disengage his teeth, the sledgehammer force of a shockwave slammed him into the mountainside. The whole cliff shook and more rocks rained down on them both.

Shezilla got up and shook the dirt off her body. Then she reached down to lift the largest boulder from the rock slide, a big, jagged boulder as large as her torso. Her chest, leg and arm muscles bulged with the effort and she bore her teeth at the pain it caused her wounds. The spines on her back flickered bright blue.

Blinking, Zilla stared at her. There was no way Shezilla could throw that at him! It took everything she had just to lift it!

Suddenly, Shezilla spun around like a shot putter. When she released the boulder, she fired her atomic ray on it. The concussive force of her breath sent the rock flying at Zilla. Just before it hit, the boulder glowed and shattered into thousands of molten shards that sandblasted the hapless creature. He wailed and writhed in white hot agony. It was in his nose and mouth, steaming, burning, boiling. Some of the pieces stuck to his skin and kept on scalding him. Parts of his gray hide smoked and bubbled. The air smelled like burnt flesh. Black burns created cheetah spots all over his body.

"Damn you!" spat Zilla.

Shezilla snorted at him. "It's your own fault."

Still screaming, Zilla broke away from Shezilla and raced down the incline leading towards the jungle lake. It was a one hundred foot plunge, but the water was almost as deep as Lake Michigan. Zilla threw himself headfirst off the cliff and splashed hard into the cold water. His body sent displaced water surging into the jungle.

"Stupid move!" Shezilla sprinted down the sharp incline after him. She leapt into the air, did a forward flip for more airtime and landed feet first in the lake. The resulting tidal wave flooded the jungle a second time. Her world turned blue as her body sank like a stone in a flurry of bubbles.

Now Zilla REALLY started to panic. Shezilla could swim, too? He saw her as a dark shape drifting between the shafts of moving sunlight. She cut through the water without hardly moving her body...how did she do that? Then he caught sight of her gold eyes boring into his skull. In the time it took him to blink she was on him. They both slammed against the bottom of the lake. Great sediment clouds rose up as they grappled. Then Zilla wormed away and took off for the surface. But Shezilla swam faster. She came up beneath Zilla so fast that both of them rose completely out of the water. Shezilla snapped her jaws shut around Zilla's fleshy throat and dragged him back into the depths with her. As they fell, dark blackish-red blood mixed into the frothy white splash.

After a moment of quiet, Zilla stumbled out of the lake. He moaned from his wounds. Chunks of his soft throat had been torn away. He was missing a few teeth. His sides were covered in burns and slashes. All of his wounds bled freely all over the jungle greenery.

Shezilla emerged as well, her eyes full of malice. She limped slightly from a deep slash in her lower calf, but her speed was not reduced at all. Her throat was covered in teeth marks that hadn't healed yet. The front of her chest still bore diagonal stripes. Bloodstains turned her teeth from white to red.

Growling, Shezilla leaned forward and bum rushed Zilla. Their bodies crashed together with a deafening thud and they tumbled through the mud. Zilla shrieked, trying to roll her off, but she wouldn't let him go. He ended up on his back with her on top of him. Shezilla pinned him with her weight and slapped him on either side of his flat face, snarling viciously, "How dare you taint my jungle with your blood! You disgusting beast!"

"Finders keepers," Zilla grimaced. The heavy blows stopped coming. He managed to grin, eyeing her. Her posture gave him a complete view of something people weren't supposed to see.

Shezilla followed her foe's leering gaze. Her eyes widened. If she could blush, she would have. She slammed her fist into his windpipe."Pervert!"

Zilla coughed from the surprise attack. He caught her head with his whip-like tail. Shezilla wailed at the blow and fell over sideways, clutching her ear. Then she got a face full of mud when he sprinted away. He cleared the gorge to see a rather pretty orange and yellow sunset. The sun was a red half circle sitting right on the water.

Yes! The ocean was right there! Zilla paused to look back at Shezilla. The surf crashed around his feet, stinging some of the burns around his claws. He saw her grin wickedly at him...and that was when he realized that he couldn't win against her. Best to run while he still had legs. Zilla shuddered and turned to run for the ocean.

And he slammed right into something so solid that he recoiled and lost his footing. He blinked up. A charcoal black leg, bulging with muscles, filled his vision. It moved aside and a face even meaner than Shezilla's peered down at him.

Godzilla grinned down at Zilla. "Boo."

Zilla squealed like a hatchling. "Don't hurt me anymore!"

"That's the invader!" Shezilla howled.

"This scrawny excuse of an iguana?" Godzilla rumbled, slapping his fist into his palm. His golden brown eyes narrowed contemptuously and his lips pulled away from his jagged teeth. A low growl rattled in his chest.

Gulping, Zilla stumbled back a few steps. He looked backwards at Shezilla. Her dorsal plates were glowing. He glanced forward at Godzilla. His spines also glowed. Whimpering, he covered his face in the same instant he heard their atomic rays discharge.

But they didn't hit him. Instead, the heat beams smashed into the sand right next to him. The shockwave flung him face first into the sand. Before Zilla could figure out what the heck just happened, Godzilla grabbed the back of his neck.

"Seeing as you're not even worth killing, I'm going to let you go. But if I ever so much as glimpse you near this island again..."Godzilla growled so low that it vibrated Zilla's bones, "...there won't be enough of you left to be dust on the ground. Am I clear?"

"O-okay. Yes! Uh-huh." Zilla squeaked.

Godzilla adjusted his hold on the back of Zilla's neck. He turned him towards Shezilla. "Now apologize to my mate."

The mutated iguana blinked when the claws on his neck tightened. "I'm sorry!"

Shezilla snorted. "You better be. If I ever see you again anywhere..." her lips curled into that wicked smile, "...your day will end most unpleasantly."

"You'll never see me again! I swear!" Zilla cried, flailing in Godzilla's grasp.

The idiot iguana's whining wore on Godzilla's nerves. He snatched Zilla's tail with his other hand, faced the water and punted Zilla with all his might. Zilla sailed through the air and landed with a tremendous splash over fifty yards away. He vanished under the sapphire sparkles without a sound.

Godzilla gave Zilla no more thought. Turning now to Shezilla, he studied her. She was bedraggled, blood-splattered, soaking wet, covered in mud and she gave off the most delicious musk. Godzilla thought she looked gorgeous like that. He decided not to mention that he was hiding just off shore, watching the entire fight. Sure, he would've jumped in if Shezilla required help, but she didn't need him. He loved it when she did things that showed off her muscles. The sight of her savagely beating up that iguana was...it was the hottest thing Godzilla had ever seen in his life. It took all of his willpower to not tackle her in the middle of the fight.

"My love?"

She grunted as her breathing regulated. "Yes?"

He approached her, grinning, and swished his tail. "Lay down."

"But I'm a mess!" Shezilla protested, gesturing to herself.

"I know." he purred, nuzzling her and licking the ticklish spot behind her ear. "But I like it when you get all dirty, because I get to clean you up."

"Oh, you!" Shezilla slapped her mate's chest, giggling at the hidden meaning in his statement. "You're terrible!" Then she caught his scent and sighed, curling into him. How could she resist a big lug like Godzilla? He began to lap at her face and throat, his sandpaper tongue cleaning away the dirt and dried blood clinging to her hide. She nuzzled him affectionately. "I'm going to be so sore later, thanks to that stupid iguana."

Godzilla just snickered against her ear. His gaze softened when he saw how the sunset sparkled in her gold eyes. He bent to clean the wounds still present on her chest. They were almost healed, but he wanted to tend to them anyway. As he did so, he purred, "You'll forget all about it in a few minutes, my love."

His gentleness was getting to her. It always did. She looked down at him, though all she saw was the top of his head. "Ooh, promise?"

He paused to look at her. His amused brownish-gold eyes sparkled and the setting sun outlined his face. "Do ugly, oversized iguanas fly?"

Shezilla stared at him. Godzilla grinned back. They both burst out laughing.

o

Somewhere far away, Zilla stirred from his tormented slumber. His wounds were all healed and his strength had returned, but he couldn't shake the memory of his humiliating defeat. He needed a place to nest. It had to be an island with an ample food supply and plenty of places to hide. The island he chose before was perfect, but its current residents weren't very welcoming. So once again he found himself searching for a nesting site.

Finally a day came where he encountered floating beasts that captured fish in gigantic brown membranes. He surfaced into a torrential rainstorm to see where these creatures came from.

Bingo, he thought.

Godzilla and Shezilla might have beaten him...but they didn't know they just showed him to spot of land even better than theirs. Right in front of him was a massive island covered in weird silver boxes. The tallest two pierced the clouds. He could hide in there for months and nobody would ever find him. It was beyond perfect.

Zilla closed his glowing eyes and submerged with a smile.

[jotawakening-blog]

12 Septober, 5A 169: Above and Below

So after spending all that time in the library, I think it’s high time I completed my tour of the city… and gave Wadud his trinket back.  So I go down to the docks, which have the sheen of prosperity about them still, even with the pall that’s settled on Menaphos.  I spend some time walking around the waterfront, admiring the sleek Menaphite craft— they’re quite a bit more advanced than the ones used by the sailors of Sarim, or so they seem at least— I’m not worth much as a sailor— and observe the curious spectacle of a staring match between a crab and a scarab.  I also talk to some of the local, including a fishmonger who’s got some interesting catches endemic to the region on display, and someone busy herding… plovers?  But why?  It seems like such a random thing to do!  She tells me I could go down to Sophanem to learn the art myself, but the suggestion somehow doesn’t strike my fancy.  Still, next time I am in Sophanem, I’ll keep my ears open.

Once I’ve seen the waterfront to my satisfaction, I turn inland and go into the maze of modest homes that make up the harbour district.  The trades represented here are workaday ones connected with the sea traffic: weavers, blacksmiths, and the like.  The guy manning the smithy is more communicative than most of the close-lipped locals, and lets me in on a secret: in his view at least, the master blacksmith is going crazy, talking about anvils disappearing when they’re clearly still there.  Hm, that’s strange.  Wonder if there’s any truth to it— maybe Ozan has a hand in the vanishing anvils?  Or Wadud’s thieves?

Out behind some warehouses, near Wadud’s tavern, I run into a guy with the tongue-twisting name of Henutemipet.  He strikes me as a bit suspicious (not that it’s really my business), but he turns out to be quite friendly (which is why I know his name).  He tells me he’s in charge of laying the dead to rest in their tombs: a responsible position, and a contemplative one.  Rather like a gravedigger-cum-pallbearer, but the customs around death are much different here, of course.

Having wandered around the district to my satisfaction, I turn toward Wadud’s inn, the Golden Scarab.  It’s still early in the day, so there aren’t many drunks around— just one, really, who troubles to tell me that the wheat beer and imported spirits from the Eastern Lands served here are without compare.  To my surprise, there’s already a musician performing inside— or, more likely, just practicing, since her song has seriously subversive undertones.  On the face of it, it is a religious hymn, telling of the two children of Elidinis and Tumeken, Amascut and Icthlarin.  Icthlarin, of course, was and is tasked with guiding the dead to the underworld.  (One wonders: all dead— or just the Menaphite dead?)  The tale of Amascut, at least in this telling, is more complex.  Apparently, her role was protecting the living, or ‘delivering them from death to life with prayer’, whatever that means.  According to the song, she was corrupted by the Mahjarrat (!) and turned by them to madness and destruction.  The song blames her for Menaphos’ recent misfortunes, and calls out for a liberator to come forth and free the city from her influence… which is consistent with what I know of her and her plans, but for it to be said openly, like this?  That musician has got an incredible amount of guts.

Especially since ‘Admiral’ Wadud, pirate and flunky of the Pharaoh, is right there.  But he doesn’t seem to mind.  Perhaps he likes the feeling of power that defying the Pharaoh by having the singer in his establishment gives him; I don’t know.  Anyway, he’s looking at me mighty sourly, so I go ahead and return the precious trinket the Jack of Spades lifted off of him.  Though the pirate is none too pleased that the Jack got away, he does thank me for returning his property, then goes back to business, making it clear he’s willing to give me no more of his time.  Oh, very well, then.

Rather than report straight back to Grand Vizier Hassan, I spend some time dallying around the harbour area, especially around the far side, where I haven’t yet been.  The buildings there turn out to be all warehouses and wharves; the people, workmen and sailors, including an inept carpenter who keeps hitting this thumb with his hammer and a scarred captain who lets me know that all but two of the old wounds on his body were inflicted by his wife!  What does he do to piss her off, I wonder?  And then, of course, there are the sailors, who hail from all over the world.  There’s the crew of a massive junk from the Eastern Isles, dressed in splendid local garb, who even have a siren as their travelling companion!  I ask her if she knew Remora, but she doesn’t seem to.  On the other hand, there are also folk from the three western kingdoms, who have docked hoping to gain entry to the city but have been denied further passage by the guards.  I talk to three of them: a hunter of strykewyrms who has a side gig going hunting Kalphites; an entomologist from the Varrock museum; and a nondescript but slightly shady guy whose name escapes me.

The docks slightly further along have a more reputable air around them, and are lined by what look to be the homes of sailor-folk.  Most of them are busily going about their lives, but there is one who stands out by dint of being a talented singer.  The song he sings is a shanty, boastfully telling the tale of voyages to the east, and criticising Admiral Wadud for his increasing loss of authority among his sailors and crews, as well as the dishonourable ways of some of the more recent captains.  The ships sailing from this area are all Menaphite craft, and include a river-boat crewed by a man named Kags who is happy to offer me free transportation up the Elid (maybe Ozan told him I could use some free transport, I don’t know!), as well as a merchant liner that takes passengers, too… albeit for a steep price.

Okay, so now I’ve really been all over Menaphos.  I think it’s time I checked in with Hassan and made sure the diplomatic talks are going along OK.  But it turns out I needn’t have worried: Hassan is happy that I’ve managed to make a bit of a name for myself around the city in clearing up some of the Jack of Spades’ chaos, and assures me that the negotiations have gotten off to a good start.  If I’m needed, he says, he will send for me.  Ehsan adds that she would like me to feel at home in Menaphos, and sends an aide down to the city’s market hall to ensure that I get full access to the trading facilities.  Sounds good!

Up in my room, I find a note, addressed to me, and signed, not unexpectedly J.  It reads: ‘Meet me at the previous place when you get this.  Have got something to show you.’  There’s only one place it can mean, really, the Workers’ District entrance to the tombs beneath the city.  Sure enough, I find Ozan waiting for me there.  It seems that his purpose in bringing me here was to tell me a bit more about the tombs under the city, now that I’m more at liberty to be sneaking around.  So, in a nutshell: Menaphos is situated atop the tombs of the long-dead pharaohs, courtiers and ordinary people who have lived and died here throughout the Ages.  These tombs contain much gold and riches that could be used to aid the Menaphites in their struggle against Amascut, but these are, of course, protected by traps, by combination locks, by ancient magic, and less obviously by some mysterious corruption that Amascut has brought into the place.  As such, one needs to be quick about one’s business in the tombs (there is a spell that teleports would-be raiders out if they stay too long) and always mindful of danger and death.  There is an extra complication: some of the magic down there makes tunnels and chambers connect and re-connect at random as a further deterrent to thieves, making it nearly impossible to predict where one will end up.  

There is some good news, though: the corruption can be warded off by breaking into the urns of ancient Menaphites and drawing on the magical energies contained within the burial vessels.  That sounds… unethical, but Ozan is the Kharidian here, so if he thinks it’s okay, I guess I can give it a try as well.  Also, fighting the corruption will gain me favour with one of the lesser Menaphite gods, if I commune with them before venturing down, and the gods are known to impart their wisdom to those who do so consecrate themselves.

Well, the tombs sound like a pretty dangerous place, and I’m not at all feeling up to exploring them right this instant, but Ozan’s lecture, coming as it did from an expert tomb raider, was very instructive all the same.  There are so many aspects of dungeon design, trap avoidance, and so forth that I’ve never even thought of, really, until now!

But that’s not all Ozan wanted to tell me.  There is one more thing, and it is that some friends of his are holding a bit of a subversive concert at the Golden Scarab, under the protection of Admiral Wadud.  It’s starting pretty soon, actually, taking advantage of the lessened guard presence before evening, so I hustle through the upper passages of the tombs to the port district and settle in at the pub with a glass of wheat beer for what promises to be an exciting show.

Two songs in particular stand out.  One, sung by the same musician I saw practicing earlier in the day, is a variant on the song of Amascut she sang for me, but with the words changed to honour the Jack of Spades, whom she deems the future liberator of Menaphos— and it’s definitely a role I can see Ozan pulling off.  The other one is sung by a woman dressed in the garb of the workers’ district, and is placid on the surface but simmers with rage just beneath at the Pharaoh’s misrule and alienation from the common folk of the city.  She is especially livid at the current Pharaoh’s usurpation of his predecessor and his fomenting of war with Al-Kharid during the last outbreak of hostilities ten years ago, and also hopes that a hero will come to deliver the city from the tyrant.  A decided counterpoint to these stirring songs is the drink that’s also served at the pub, alongside regular beer.  It’s called ‘squeck juice’, or ’squecks on the beach’, and is an inky black substance that tastes just as bad as it looks.  I take a sip and spit out the rest, because it sure as hell isn’t worth the ten coins I paid for it!

On that note (pardon the pun), the concert ends, and with it my last reason for sticking around Menaphos for much longer.  The myriad of other strands of intrigue I’ve gotten myself tangled in cry out for my attention, which means I should return to Al-Kharid and debrief.  The fastest way to do that would be to use my broomstick (which I still have on me, in fact!) to teleport there through the Sorceress’ Garden, so I do that and, once there, go to the palace to speak with Osman and the Emir.  Both are glad that negotiations are going well (though Osman is a good deal more cynical about their prospects for success than the young Emir!), and Osman thanks me for the information I give him about the state of affairs in the southern capital.

But since there’s nothing to be done now but wait for negotiations to run their course, I’ve got nothing further detaining me in the desert and decide it’s time to move on.   Not so fast, though: my way out of the city takes me past Ali Morrisane’s stall, and I stop by to see how the merchant is doing.  Expecting maybe a sales pitch at most, I’m surprised when he offers me another job!  He tells me he’s been trying to corner even more of the local market, but has gotten pushback from the local merchants, who, he thinks, are working together to block his efforts.  Or they don’t trust a Pollnivnean— the upshot is that he can’t get the new suppliers he wants.  Which is where I come in: my mission, should I choose to accept it, would be to travel down to Sophanem and negotiate a contract with a merchant named Siamun for local goods that Ali could resell to the people of Al-Kharid at a profit.  Hm— well, since I’m one of the only people let in or out of Sophanem at present, and since getting their goods out of the plague zone would benefit the locals even more than it would Ali, I think I can help with that, detour though it is.  In addition, there’s a guy in Pollnivneach selling blackjacks that Ali sees a market for up here in the north supposing we could improve the quality of the product, so if I could arrange something with him, he would appreciate that as well.  Finally, Ali wants in on a market nobody in the desert has managed to successfully manage yet: runestones.  He suggests that I approach Aubury, in Varrock, with a proposal to form a rune cartel, splitting the market in the Misthalin-Desert region at the expense of competitors further afield.

There’s one question that’s unanswered: what do I get out of this?  Ali isn’t forthcoming with any promised rewards at first, so it takes a fair bit of haggling.  But.  Eventually, he does agree to give me a deep discount on his magic carpet service in exchange for my help, and, to sweeten the deal, even hands me a pouch of some 600 coins right now.  I guess that means we’re in agreement.  I can get started as soon as I’ve gotten some rest.

I spend the rest of the day— which isn’t much of it, really— organising the books I spirited out of the Menaphos library and getting my supplies in order for this next, unexpected venture into the desert.  I don’t know what it is about this place, but it’s really sucked me in!

[theletterunread]

A Week in the City: Thursday

Marla was still young enough, just barely, that Thursday night was considered the weekend, but not so young that she could count on there being something to do each time one rolled up. The last Thursday she’d been busy had been her second date with Audacto, four weeks earlier. Nothing had happened on that date that was good enough to make Marla hasten to a third, but Audacto asked for another, and it was no loss to her to say sure. It was a commensal relationship: she was the shark, he was the remora.

The date was short, lasting only one drink. The atmosphere was not so awkward that she couldn’t walk him to the train station, but it was awkward enough that Marla was surprised at Audacto’s offer to extend the date. Even more than she was surprised by the actual suggestion.

They had met at an old bar in her neighborhood, a community in the midst of a gutting and rebranding. An influx of young, new residents had alerted developers to the area’s possibilities. On every block, more than half the lots were fenced off, some had been leveled, and a few were raising up skeletons of future condominiums. The irony, which everyone knew, and yet was powerless before, was that everything that attracted the gentrifiers to the neighborhood was destroyed by the changes that accompanied them. It was synnecrosis, a rare type of biological relationship that results in the death of both organisms.

Audacto’s suggestion was to explore one of the construction sites. “Come on, let’s look inside.” He fussed with the chained gate and opened it wide enough for them to slip through.

“Why?”

“It’s our last chance.” Did he mean the last chance to explore before the building was completed, or simply their last chance, period?

“Well, once they finishing building the condos,” Marla realized, “people like me will never be allowed inside.” She went through the gate.

The ground was a latticework of rebar. Walking on it was a little like crossing a storm grate, but bouncy. With a little practice, Marla was able to spring up high enough to grab onto the scaffolding that was building the upper floors. Audacto followed her, and with a combination of leaps and cooperative boosts, they were able to reach the top of what would become the building. (As much fun as she was having, Marla noticed, when she touched Audacto’s hand, that there was no spark.)

From up there, they could see the whole neighborhood and, it seemed, most of the city. There were vacant lots, construction sites, new developments, and crumbling buildings that were once state of the art. If she scanned her head back and forth, it was like watching a sped-up and mixed-up film of the life cycle of an immense animal, from birth, growth and maturity to death, bloat and decay.

“How do you like this?” Audacto asked her.

“It’s appalling…but I guess I made this world as much as anybody did,” said Marla.

“No, I meant…being with me.” He wasn’t looking at the skyline. He hadn’t been since they climbed up there. “Could you see doing this again?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking of you all month.”

Marla was not so young that she didn’t know how to deflect this sentiment. “That’s so enervating to hear. That puts more strain on me than I want.”

“This isn’t just about want, though. I need you. You give me the chance to live. How can you not be excited by that?”

“Because it could kill me. That’s not a healthy romance. That’s parasitism.”

Audacto considered this for a moment and, realizing that she had placed him in the company of ovipositing wasps, felt his masculinity threatened. He stood up quickly and attempted to storm off, but his feet got caught in the rebar and he tripped over the edge of the roof.

Marla averted her eyes and, mercifully, she didn’t hear a splat. She climbed down as carefully as she could and slipped back through the gate, steeling herself for a bloody spectacle. But Audacto was safe. Unconscious, but safe, knocked out in the community compost pile that broke his fall, surrounded by the organic coffee grounds and brown rice pasta that the gentrifiers had churned up in their displacement. A few earthworms poked their heads out of the humus at the interruption, but went quickly back into the soil to continue their mutualism – the only kind of relationship worth fighting for.

[ibloggingkits-blog]

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5 COSE CHE (FORSE) NON SAI SUL TUO MAC

Possedere un Mac significa avere tra le mani un prodotto affidabile e veloce, che può ovviamente contare sull’ottimo sistema OS X. E molti di coloro che hanno iniziato l. A. propria esperienza nel mondo dei laptop servendosi di Home windows, una volta passati a Mac difficilmente hanno fatto marcia indietro. E se anche tu lo utilizzi, probabilmente ci sono cose che non sai sul tuo Mac. Quali?! Scopriamole.

DA DOVE DERIVA IL NOME MACINTOSH

Così come Apple – che in inglese significa mela -, anche Macintosh ha un legame con questo frutto. Il nome deriva infatti dalla mela McIntosh, los angeles preferita di un dipendente Apple, Jef Raskin. Si narra che Steve Jobs abbia tentato di cambiare questo nome ma che lo stesso fosse talmente d’impatto che alla high-quality venne adottato ufficialmente. Oggi il laptop della Apple è conosciuto solo come Mac. Tra l’altro il nome del Mac avrebbe dovuto essere proprio McIntosh ma essendo quest’ultimo coperto da copyright, si optò according to la soluzione Macintosh. Apple sostenne infatti che Mac stava per Mouse Activated computer.

The quick Awkward Lifestyles of Mac Remora – Element II So they sat there inside the front of the Schooling Center, it turned into Saturday, sat there in the color under some huge-topped umbrella looking trees, a busy road out of doors the gate of the military base, they sat on a stretch of grass that ran the length of the old World Conflict Two barracks, now used as the Training Center, in which they held classes from the University of Maryland. Beyond the stretch of grass, the iron fence to the bottom, throughout the motorway, Beyond all that, had been Two guesthouses, Past that turned into the city-let of Babenhausen. While he noticed Remora’s interest he positioned his pen and paper to the facet, snapped up onto his toes. The opposite students grew to become away with their faces empty and persisted in putting in writing out their zoological papers.

“I am sorry,” Remora stated looking at Sergeant Lee Erwin Wright, searching for him in his American navy uniform, his white American face, that turned into rectangular and sturdy, and could stay that manner all of the manner to his mid-Fifties, and Remora stated his wavy auburn hair for as soon as, as he held his hat and the wind blew all of it, every which way, his exceptional sparkling bluish-inexperienced eyes, handiest dimly doubtful, a strong properly nostril, upper lip thin, decrease lip fuller, a handsome jaw. “I’m sorry, amigo, but you ought to recognize all those times I have taken you out to devour and buy you beverages-oh do not get me incorrect, I do not mind doing it-but I want a choose, I want so one can lend me your ration playing cards, for whiskey and cigarettes.”

(Lee were promoting his rationed whiskey to a bar down in Munster by using Dieburg, getting double its price, however, Remora had been spending twice that amount on his nightly consuming and eating after lessons on the University. So what ought to he do, Lee idea. He became already in debt to him, and he liked Remora, and his sporty Mercedes he drove in, even borrowed it to him now after which. And here the issuer was apologizing, due to the fact he could not come up with the money for to maintain his lavished dwelling on him if indeed he couldn’t contribute some thing. What should he say?

“Do not worry about the cigarettes, I got ration playing cards from numerous of my buddies for that item, and that I know you smoke, however, I understand you don’t drink whiskey, as a substitute beer, I certain may want to use your card!” Lee bolted like a rabbit, While a fox simply grabs him, and gave him the cardboard, he’d make possibly even more than he became making, he knew every bar in town, and nightclub, and PX within fifty-miles. And for the maximum Component, Lee Wright changed into questioning, what the heck you can do with a person like that, that talked so easily, however, on the other hand, became proper, and beneficent, Lee amazed.

Lee checked out Mac with his joyful bluish-inexperienced eyes, yet sturdy Army fight, Struggle eyes, eyes which have visible demise and destruction in Vietnam, in 1971, and Mac knew he become no coward, matter-of-reality, he knew he changed into or could be risky, even along with his excellent smile, if you did not word how his eyes showed that, it become to 1’s drawback (however Mac had heard, but now not said a word on it-heard he taught a squadron on the 545th Ordnance Company, karate strategies, and played tough, so difficult the squadron protested, and he stopped their training due to the fact they had been as he said, “Cry, infants”).

“inside the morning if you like Lee, you can include me and see how I do my black-marketplace business, my buying. Perhaps I can restoration it up for you,” he stated. “We’re going to never get wealthy, but We’re going to stay nicely in the meantime.”

“Okay, in the morning if you like,” remarked Sergeant Wright. This was definitely the way to just accept it, concept Mac; he could inform a component or Two about squaddies, he was one for two-years. He become considering The usa, despite the fact that he decided to live in West Germany, and had found out to talk German almost in addition to he may want to talk English, and perhaps spoke greater German than English. but of route, Lee couldn’t, I suggest he spoke German, however could best apprehend, each fifth word or so, and his vocabulary changed into restrained to perhaps one-hundred words, if that.

The morning had been as bright and warm as they come. ‘here’s Mac,’ Lee mumbled to himself, out of doors of his rental on base, within the housing region, in which he lived. He walked over to his vehicle looking refreshed and joyful. however he wasn’t really unusual, Mac idea, no, not ordinary, extraordinary, he knew a whole lot greater than what he stated, he’d no longer allow on to what he did understand either, always questioning, with that reddish of completion.

“How’s Belinda,” commented Lee, Mac’s fiancée to be. He had simplest visible her once, a trainer that labored across the road at the yank College, for the youngsters brought over to Germany from the States with the aid of their army families. She changed into a pearl, he idea, a lightly black girl that had-oh, a lot greater magnificence than Mac. “were getting along fine, I just do not want to get engaged pretty but, but she’s pregnant, I just observed out, so I bet I’ll need to sooner than later. Belinda became very dazzling concept Lee, ‘You’ll kill the very element you adore,’ concept Lee, because he knew Mac’s personality demanded he nevertheless get his oats out, inside the wild woman jungle, the one he creates and destroys. In many a night membership ladies just flocked over him, a few stripped in front of him, to get his attention. Some thing he had, it was as though it was voodoo or some black magic over these ladies.

As they went from PX to PX, to German stores, and bars, Lee saw he had a community of customers for his whiskey and cigarettes, and he’d even prevent at some apartments of squaddies, get their ration cards, he made a buddle of cash this early morning, to forenoon-Sergeant Wright pondered. And he even stopped to say hiya at a tennis court docket, to a younger woman named Melody Brown (he failed to recognise at the time, she become seventeen and the daughter of Sergeant Robert Brown, despite the fact that she regarded her age), Sergeant Brown being a sergeant that labored in one of the unites on the Babenhausen navy complicated. however he could in a while discover lots more. Lee concept, ‘If certainly he had something going on with Melody, the Military became hard and cruel on such predatory matters, and so have been the soldiers with their daughters, revengeful at the predators. The lady became appealing, and he should see the young guys around her have been long past to portions nervously with her, Mac approached her softened, and treated her as though he had magic.

‘They can not know that a lot at her age,’ Lee idea. Lee turned into thankful that Mac had long gone to showing him his Existence, however why? And why become he playing around with a young, Excessive Faculty lady,’ (so he concluded), he requested himself. She came running over to his vehicle as they were approximately to take off, “I am coming with you,” she said, searching for Lee for an on the spot, then again to Mac.

[hopefulphantomwonderland-blog]

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The Short Awkward Life of Mac Remora

So they sat there in the front of the Education Center, it was Saturday, sat there in the shade under some wide-topped umbrella looking trees, a busy road outside the gate of the military base, they sat on a stretch of grass that ran the length of the old World War Two barracks, now used as the Education Center, where they held classes from the University of Maryland. Beyond the stretch of grass, the iron fence to the base, across the highway, beyond all that, were two guesthouses, beyond that was the town-let of Babenhausen. When he saw Remora’s curiosity he put his pen and paper to the side, snapped up onto his feet. The other students turned away with their faces empty, and continued to write out their zoological papers.

“Mr. Remora,” said Lee Wright, “what you doing here?” “Nothing; just thinking about attending the University of Maryland, I got 90-credits with Central Texas College, but Maryland will only take twenty of them, so I pert near have to start my college all over, how about you?” “What’s that? What do you mean?” “It’s quite complicated,” said Mac. “I suppose you got all your credits from the University?” “So with ninety credits you still have no degree?” remarked Lee. “Oh, yes. I can’t raise a beef, if I choose to complain they’ll not even take the twenty-credits. They prefer them to be from a university, not a community college.” “How odd!” said the Sergeant? “Not really so strange, not really-I just lost a lot of time and money in the education.” Then Mac felt a slight embarrassed at telling him his situation, without him asking. “We all get screwed, now and then, you know, one way or another.” ‘Good god,’ thought Lee, what a misuse of time and effort and money, just to start all over. “Yes, we all take a thrashing,” agreed Lee, standing three-feet from him, both looking in each others eyes. “I’m awfully sorry about you losing all those credits, but did you sign up for the University classes yet?” “I just thought you’d like to know, we need not go any further with it, I mean what’s done is done, and yes I am in the process of signing up.” “Well maybe we’ll be in some classes together?” Lee looked at him now warmly. He had not anticipated this. “Let me know which courses you’re going to take,” said Mac “maybe we’ll go together?” “Yes,” said Lee. “I’m taking philosophy here in Babenhausen, this next semester, and in Frankfurt Anthropology.” “Frankfurt’s forty miles away, I’ll take the course with you, and we can drive together…” adding, “you can be quite sure on that, it’s a larger school there, and I think stricter,” said Mac.

Chapter Four Themselves

They had unknowingly both decided at that point to break away from the norm, and not be independent, but a little more interdependent in selecting and going to university classes. They would eat together after school, find a bar and Lee would get drunk, as Mac never did, but he depended on Lee’s company, paid for his food, his meals, and drinks, even the gas, never asking for a cent, said once, “You’ll never find a better nigger than me!” And Lee assured himself he wouldn’t.

At times Lee got too drunk to even talk, as Mac remained distinguished, and to those young girls around him, he was considerate, Lee was a little to the contrary. It might even have appeared to Mac’s admirers, it would be a damn sight easier for him to get rid of Lee, save his money, and not have to watch Lee drinking to kingdom-come, because this was seemingly more than a phase for him, more like a lifestyle.

“How is everything going?” Mac would ask Lee, during those drinking spells, that only stopped when he was on duty, and he’d answer, “Oh, I’m fine…” and continue drinking, and you’d think the night had gone to pot, but it didn’t phase Mac all that much. There was evidently a reason for Mac’s generosity.

Chapter Five Black Market

“I’m sorry,” Remora said looking at Sergeant Lee Erwin Wright, looking at him in his American military uniform, his white American face, that was square and strong, and would remain that way all the way to his mid fifties, and Remora noted his wavy auburn hair for once, as he held his hat and the wind blew it all, everywhichway, his fine sparkling bluish-green eyes, only dimly dubious, a solid good nose, upper lip thin, lower lip fuller, a handsome jaw. “I’m sorry, amigo, but you must realize all those times I’ve taken you out to eat, and buy you drinks-oh don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind doing it-but I need a favor, I need for you to lend me your ration cards, for whiskey and cigarettes.”

(Lee had been selling his rationed whiskey to a bar down in Munster by Dieburg, getting double its cost, but Remora had been spending twice that amount on his nightly drinking and eating after classes at the university. So what could he do, Lee thought. He was already in debt to him, and he liked Remora, and his sporty Mercedes he drove in, even borrowed it to him now and then. And here the provider was apologizing, because he couldn’t afford to continue his lavished living on him, if indeed he could not contribute something. What could he say?

“Don’t worry about the cigarettes, I got ration cards from several of my friends for that item, and I know you smoke, but I know you don’t drink whiskey, rather beer, I sure could use your card!” Lee bolted like a rabbit, when a fox just grabs him, and gave him the card, he’d make perhaps even more than he was making, he knew every bar in town, and nightclub, and PX within fifty-miles. And for the most part, Lee Wright was thinking, what the heck you can do with a man like that, that talked so smoothly, but on the other hand was right, and generous, Lee surprised.

Lee looked at Mac with his cheerful bluish-green eyes, yet sturdy Army combat, war eyes, eyes that have seen death and destruction in Vietnam, in 1971, and Mac knew he was no coward, matter-of-fact, he knew he was or could be dangerous, even with his pleasant smile, if you didn’t notice how his eyes showed that, it was to one’s disadvantage (but Mac had heard, but not said a word on it-heard he taught a squadron at the 545th Ordnance Company, karate techniques, and played hard, so hard the squadron protested, and he stopped their training because they were as he said, “Cry babies”).

“In the morning if you like Lee, you can come with me and see how I do my black-market business, my buying. Maybe I can fix it up for you,” he said. “We’ll never get rich, but we’ll live well in the meantime.”

“Okay, in the morning if you like,” remarked Sergeant Wright. This was certainly the way to accept it, thought Mac; he could tell a thing or two about soldiers, he was one for two-years. He was all for America, even though he decided to live in West Germany, and had learned to speak German almost as well as he could speak English, and perhaps spoke more German than English. But of course, Lee couldn’t, I mean he spoke German, but could only understand, every fifth word or so, and his vocabulary was limited to perhaps one-hundred words, if that.

The morning had been as bright and warm as they come. ‘Here’s Mac,’ Lee mumbled to himself, outside of his apartment on base, in the housing area, where he lived. He walked over to his car looking refreshed and cheerful. But he wasn’t really odd, Mac thought, no, not odd, different, he knew much more than what he said, he’d not let on to what he did know either, always thinking, with that reddish completion.

“How’s Belinda,” commented Lee, Mac’s fiancée to be. He had only seen her once, a teacher that worked across the street at the American School, for the children brought over to Germany from the States by their military families. She was a pearl, he thought, a lightly black female that had-oh, much more class than Mac. “Were getting along fine, I just don’t want to get engaged quite yet, but she’s pregnant, I just found out, so I guess I’ll have to sooner than later. Belinda was very impressive thought Lee, ‘You’re going to kill the very thing you love,’ thought Lee, because he knew Mac’s personality demanded he still get his oats out, in the wild female jungle, the one he creates and destroys. In many a night club women just flocked over him, some stripped in front of him, to get his attention. Whatever he had, it was as if it was voodoo or some black magic over these women.

As they went from PX, to PX, to German stores, and bars, Lee saw he had a network of buyers for his whiskey and cigarettes, and he’d even stop at a few apartments of soldiers, get their ration cards, he made a buddle of money this early morning, to forenoon-Sergeant Wright pondered. And he even stopped to say hello at a tennis court, to a young woman named Melody Brown (he didn’t know at the time, she was seventeen and the daughter to Sergeant Robert Brown, although she looked her age), Sergeant Brown being a sergeant that worked in one of the unites at the Babenhausen military complex. But he would later on find out much more. Lee thought, ‘If indeed he had something going on with Melody, the Army was hard and cruel on such predatory things, and so were the soldiers with their daughters, revengeful on the predators. The girl was attractive, and he could see the young men around her were gone to pieces nervously with her, Mac approached her softened, and handled her as if he had magic.

‘They can’t know that much at her age,’ Lee thought. Lee was grateful that Mac had gone to showing him his life, but why? And why was he fooling around with a young, High School female,’ (so he concluded), he asked himself. She came running over to his car as they were about to take off, “I’m coming with you,” she said, looking at Lee for an instant, then back to Mac.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “Oh, yes, I am,” and she opened the back door and jumped in. “You’re not staying for anything,” he said.

“Not for anything?” she said. Lee had felt he might have missed something in all this, but she was asking for it, and he was willing, and when she left, Mac got thinking, as she went off to cry as if he wanted to take her with him but it was for some reason too dangerous. To Lee, she seemed hell of a lovely kid, with all the woman parts, and she seemed to understand the ways of a man and woman, but didn’t she know she’d be hurt by him sooner or later? It was the damnedest thing, both playing the damnedest game.

Lee had asked to be dropped off at the NCO club (Non commissioned officers club) figuring Mac would put on another show for him tomorrow, or Monday, sooner than later, but he wanted no more today, and this would give him a time to straighten things out if they needed straightening out with Melody, because Lee’s senses told him, he was still thinking, pondering on her.

“You’re not coming, I’m going to Darmstadt,” he asked. “No, you were really something this morning,” he said, “You wore me out.”

Chapter Six Relieved of Position

“What now?” said Mac Remora, to the military inspector of his little Babenhausen store? “I didn’t come out here to be boring,” said the inspector. “Well, it hasn’t been boring around here,” said Mac. “Oh, no, I expect not,” he said. “it’s been charming, but tomorrow is your last charming day-you’re being replaced, your inventories, and rumors and you’ve been under investigation for selling your liquor stock and rationed items to the local Germans, and making a hell of a profit,” said the inspector. “You don’t know how I look forward to tomorrow,” said Mac. “I suppose a robber gets tired of robbing his own stock,” the inspector remarked, “in any case, I’m glad to get rid of you!”

“Why not let up on the complaining, just a slight inspector,” said Mac. “I expect I could,” he commented, “Since you put it so appealingly. “But you still may have to face fraud charges; we just need someone to point you out as his/her seller. Indecently we’ve had you followed. “Oh, like a lion,” commented Mac.

Consequently, Mac Remora thought to himself: he’s going to try and prosecute ME, try and give ME a free ride right to the front door of the prison house, isn’t he? Or maybe that was just his fear taking over; perhaps the inspector just wanted him gone, out of sight and out of mind and just out of his hair. How should a man act when another finds out he’s a stinking thief. He felt the inspector was damned cruel but they’re all cruel he concluded, even if you’re straight with the records. Still, he had enough of the PX business, enough of their damn inspections. So he reasoned, as one often does to be able to accept the situation-oh yes, put horns on top of it, call it a devil, and be done with being polite: to the devil with it all. And that is what he was doing.

Chapter Seven Marriage

Three Months Later

One afternoon, late, Mac and Belinda had gotten married, she was showing, her blouses no longer tucked in, and behind her belt, and Sergeant Robert Brown had stopped Staff Sergeant Wright, nearby the Babenhausen PX, talk to him about his daughter, Melody. He was bearing a gun. He showed him the gun; it was hidden behind his coat, “Tell your friend Mac, I’m a good shot, plus he’s a big target, I’m going to shoot him. He rapped my daughter, and I can’t figure out why you are friends with him.” Brown remarked. “Is it worth-while, go to the police?” said Lee. “I did,” rebuke Sergeant Brown, “but there’s no hard proof! Maybe you can testify for me, get him to tell the truth.”

“There’s no good chance of it. He just got married and he told me Melody was constantly running after him, and to be honest, I saw her one day, clear as the day is long, likened a lioness after him.” “It’s not very pleasant to hear my daughter is like that, she’s seventeen years old, no matter what, he took advantage of her,” said Brown. “I should think it even more unpleasant to allow her to continue to do what she’s doing,” said Lee.

(Brown thought, daughter or no daughter, to continue to talk about it, was only going to cause more friction.)

“We’re friends,” brown said, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore, just let him know I’m after him-with a gun!” “I wouldn’t think about that anymore, Robert, any person would be upset finding out what you’ve learned, but that’s all over. And if you shoot him, I’ll testify I’ve heard you threaten to kill him-don’t make me a part of your scheme.”

Nightclub

That night Mac got together with Lee for a short period, at a nightclub outside of Babenhausen; Mac having a soda and Lee a beer as usual. As they sat at a table, Lee listening to the night noises all over, with some lastingly emphasized words, he said to Mac, “Brown has a gun, he’s looking for you, says you’ve raped his daughter, he’s miserably in raged over it.” The fear was there like a cold clammy half-hollow iceberg, where once all he’d show was confidence, he looked sick.

“Does Belinda know of Melody?” asked Lee. “I told her the night before,” his voice was of a deep sound, sort of coughing and grunts, as if he was thinking hard, as he talked. Lee could hear him breathing heavily. He couldn’t tell him not to be afraid, but he did say, “I told him, confronted him, about the wildness I saw in Melody, and that while I’m here if he shoots you, I’ll testify to the police to his threats.”

“Is he dead serious?” asked Mac. “Well, who’s to say, but he acted like it, until I told him he’d be accountable.” “I’ll have to check into this, maybe report what you said to the police, I mean I’ll report it.” “Do you think his threats carry that far?”

“It sounds like he’d like to carry them out,” said Lee. “If you get shot…” Lee started to say then stopped abruptly. “Talk to Melody, maybe she’d be the best one to straighten things out?” “I tried already to talk to her properly,” said Mac, “she’s out for revenge because I married Belinda. It’s really all about that.”

“You must have told her you’d marry her then?” Lee questioned. “I shouldn’t have chanced it, but I did. You can hit me whenever you want, it was stupid of me to have said such a thing, but it’s what she wanted to hear, and I figured it would pass, but she thinks it was a solid deal.” “Marvelous,” Lee said.

Chapter Seven Lo and Behold

Six Weeks Later

“I’m ready,” Staff Sergeant Lee Erwin Wright said. “You set in front,” said Mac, Belinda doesn’t mind sitting in the back, then we can talk on our way to the airport, and she don’t have to twist about looking at you as we talk, her belly is getting bigger by the day gets in the way you know (they were heading to Frankfurt; Lee was being relocated to Alabama).

“Yes, darling, said Belinda. “It sounds less strenuous, doesn’t it?” “Of course,” said Mac. “Finished with everything here in Germany, is that right?” remarked Belinda.

Just then, a Corporal Will Wilson came running up to the car, “I’ll see you this evening…!” he said (a white boy, no more than twenty-three or twenty-four years old, his new protege).

“Yes,” said Mac. “I’m ready if you’re ready Lee,” said Mac. “Must make the 3:00 p.m., flight,” Lee said. (Then it occurred to him, he found his self a new white partner. Chances were he’d not be bothered all that much in the bars, hanging around with whity, sure that was his hidden motive, especially when he hit on the white gals in the clubs.) The car stopped at a stop light, “Is everything all right?” asked Mac. “Everything’s fine, just keep going ahead and to the right, you know the way to Frankfurt!” “He’s a marvelous friend, isn’t he Belinda?” said Mac. He was sitting almost too relaxed driving, thought Lee, “Mac really likes you Lee,” said Belinda. “What do you mean?” asked Lee. “He doesn’t even borrow me his Mercedes, but you he does you!” she replied. “Yes, I was always afraid I’d crash it, and have to pay to fix it, and that would be my paycheck for six-months.” Both Belinda and Mac chuckled. “Oh,” said Mac, “you’ll never find a better nigger than me!” jesting.

…after that

And that would be the last time they saw each other, talked to each other. Oh, what about the gun-bearer? You see, Lee called on the phone trying to find out what took place about that mishap-if indeed anything at all-after he left, as a result, he ended up talking to Sergeant Sims, not being able to get a hold of Mac. He had said the following to him:

“For some reason, Mac had felt after you left, he couldn’t be hit, shot, he was safe-and perhaps in a way he was right-but he was found dead nonetheless, in a hotel room no more than two weeks after you left, such a shame, he had been with Melody of all things, that very night.

Perhaps she lured him there, but the gun that Sergeant Brown had was not the murder weapon, not at all, the police clearly stated that (as if it was beyond a doubt) and to the best of my understanding-of what reasoning that is that can be derived from this calamity-neither he nor she could just leave each other alone, they could not just stop it (both in some kind of fixation, beyond lust and compassion, perhaps we can call it, a tranquilized compulsion, like smoking cigarettes, the craving comes and until you light one, it doesn’t go away, it puts you under duress-although I think Sergeant Brown mellowed down after you talked to him, and perchance wasn’t the culprit as the police first thought, and everyone first thought-but I repeat his gun was not the weapon, and all the concluding evidence pointed elsewhere for malice.

For one thing, she, Melody was suffering, I saw her a few times, spoke to her in passing, we just simply ran into each other. But don’t you worry; you didn’t have anything to do with it. If anything you ironed it out somewhat, or tried to. At least I’d like to think so.”

(Melody’s Story) On one evening about two weeks after Sergeant Wright left for the states, Mac and I got together at the hotel garden, he got quite drunk. He was a gentleman as always. I had seen him earlier on that day, coming down the walk in at Babenhausen Military Base, we were between a fence, it all happened so mysteriously. After I asked him what time he’d like to meet me at the hotel garden-he had not eaten-but said he’d be ready to go as soon as lunch was finished; about frothy-five minutes to an hour. I trusted him only in that he would show up, in nothing else did I have confidence in him, because he was mysterious about his life, about everything in his life-a compulsive liar, who stacked lie upon lie until he forgot where he placed each lie, and sometimes confusing them, I got the truth-but only by holding in anger and hate, and I knew sooner or later that anger and hate, and under that, as my psychologist said, was hurt-it would come out.

It was a windy day but the sun was coming out, and it looked by the time he got to the garden cloudy, dark clouds were forming, and I knew behind clouds was rain. So I asked him to get us a room at the hotel in Babenhausen Township. I was going to shoot him right there and then, but it was no longer a wonderful day, and it seemed so downright nasty to have him dead in the wet grass, the devil forbid. Yes, I shot him in the hotel room, turned the music on loud, and had a 22-revolver, and shot him in the chest and head. Then I left the hotel and started down the road-buried the revolver in a cabbage patch. I saw his wife drive by, she was wearing a yellow and red scarf around her neck, I helped him pick it out, he said it was for his mother, he was always mysterious, but I knew beyond a doubt he’d show up, it’s just like fishing, he was caught on my hook, and I on his.

Police Station (Babenhausen, West Germany)

Police Officer (sitting sullenly in an interrogation room with Melody): I know you shot him, who else could have? We can’t find the gun, and we know your father’s gun is a 38 Special, and you’re the only one with reason enough. You have to own up to this (he said).

Melody Brown: ((Young Melody appeared not to hear the Officer, she was thinking: what in heaven’s name makes him say ‘I know you shot him’ he thinks I shot him) (she smiles, a reluctant smile to the officer, says to her mind’s eye: he needs to press the subject, to bring me into action.)) Thank you officer, but I can’t understand a word you’re saying, I think you had a few too many beers today. (Melody thinking: let him be with his scornful look, I could shoot him too, just like that, what’s the difference. Her second self says: ‘No, no, Melody you are too cold, it doesn’t make any difference what he says, he can’t prove anything unless he finds the gun in the cabbage patch, then he can trace it…’

The Chief of Police (talking to the Police Officer doing the interrogation, in private): Let her go, look at her she’s got her own demons chasing her, she’s not meant to be a killer, if indeed she killed him, and I’d bet a month wages she’d confess under harder and longer interrogation techniques; but let her go, we can close the case, we got enough crazy people out there to amuse us, and keep us busy, why torture an already tormented girl. Put the file in ‘Unsolved.’

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter LXVI: Eye of the Tiger

If life were simple, I’d be a tadpole or a tortoise. I’d be a frog in no time, or I’d live to be over 150 and I would go at my own pace.

But life isn’t simple and action happens a lot. I have homework I have to do every week and if there was one thing about childhood which I wouldn’t recommend to a tadpole, it would be homework. However, that wasn’t my concern that day. My concern was something much more joyous: a sheet of paper in our mailbox.

See, we don’t get a lot of mail here, but we still have a mailbox, for whatever reason. Well, just this morning, I ran out (it stopped raining this morning, too. Thank goodness, no more soggy boots please) and caught the mail between my hands as if they were flies and my hand was a flyswatter.

I ran inside, as I was too strong to slip and fall down, and being reckless was impossible when I was built like a gorilla.

“Ray! Ray!” I jumped up while waving papers in my hands.

Ray, who I once referred to as “penguin man” (well all gotta grow up someday), was busy in the kitchen flipping eggplants.

“What is it, Tigershark?” He asked with his soft, but gravelly voice, and with a smile on his face.

“There’s a fair in town! An amusement park nearby! Can we go?”

“A..what now?”

I threw the sheet of paper in his face.

He muttered to himself while taking a look at it (in case you’re wondering, he set the spatula down before looking the paper over), saying stuff like, “how is it in town when we don’t live in a town? Why was this in our mailbox?”

“I don’t know! But it looks colorful!”

“It must be a trap…” he muttered.

“It might be, but we’re strong! I could bring my hammer with me, if you want!”

He shook his head.

“We’ll go. I’m curious about this. It’s suspicious, and I’m sure it was put in our mailbox to lure us in. Not only did Sunny not bring up such a thing with me when she looked up any recent rumors in the area, but this is so spontaneous that...ah, but let’s go, anyway? What do you say?”

“Yeah!” I jumped up and pumped my fist.

Sure, danger wasn’t always something I wanted to get into, but I had my values to stick to: value 1) have fun at all costs. Value 2) be there for the ones I love. The rest of my values weren’t important enough to mention right now.

As it turns out, Ray and I had to walk quite a ways in order to get to this supposed amusement park. Once there, we were surprised to find such a colorful area with so much red and yellow that one would have mistaken it for a sculpture made out of mangoes.

“This amusement park is called ‘Iceland’?” Ray remarked. “Doesn’t the owner realize that there’s already a place called Iceland? You can’t just put -land at the end of a word and call it the name of your amusement park.”

We were lucky enough that it was far enough into spring where much of the actual ice had melted off and the ground was soft, while the sky was bright and cloudy. Sure, a little on the brisk side, but I wouldn’t have had the cold any other way.

“Right! It should have been called something unique, like Humanland.”

“Oh, speaking of which, how are things going with you and Astraea?” Ray turned his head and asked. He stood in front of me in a long line, one which was single-file and all of these people were eerily quiet. I must say, they would have done a pretty good job at being mannequins.

“We’re getting along,” I answered. While my worries grew every week I was away from her, saying that we were getting along wasn’t a lie.

“That’s good. Is she learning anything new?”

“Every day, I’d assume,” I shrugged my shoulders. Sometimes her way of learning could be a bit...worrisome. Like how she wanted someone to beat her up ever since I threatened to beat up Hammond Cheese. Or how she wanted to explore her jealousy by creating a dragon because she thought it would make me come back home to grandma and grandpa.

I still regret nothing, but she could be quite the handful.

Besides, are we ever really apart if we can just communicate through our thoughts? I asked in my head.

Of course, Astraea didn’t give me a response. Either she heard me and ignored me or she didn’t hear it. Maybe it wasn’t a total telepathy thing. Like, maybe we had to have each other’s permission first, or maybe she had to call me first. I didn’t know how these things worked.

“That’s good. I’m sure you’re a good big sister,” Ray grinned. We walked a step closer to the entrance.

“I’m not sure about that, I’ve never been a big sister. Even though she knows less than me, I think Astraea is infinitely bigger than I am.”

“Well, infinity can only be so big,” Ray said, as if that meant anything. He really was someone who liked to say things that sounded like they meant things, but they didn’t really. Oh well, that’s part of what made Ray a good penguin.

When we stood before the entrance, almost through the gates, I turned around and looked up at some chubby blonde haired guy wearing a square hat and he had a nametag on it that said ‘Titus Bosom’.

“What brought you here, bub?” I asked.

“Oh hey, kid. I just got this thing in the mail saying I won a trip to Iceland. I got so excited until I found out that it’s not the country of Iceland, but just some amusement park. But I’m already here, so I figured I may as well check it out.”

“Right. So you’re just as in the dark as we are,” I nodded.

“In the dark?” His face turned pale (he was already a white guy before, but something told me that he wasn’t used to a cold place like this).

“Ah, forgive her,” Ray turned, “what she means is that amusement parks opening up here are certainly out of the norm.”

“Yes. Very suspicious,” I nodded, with my hand on my chin. “We will get to the bottom of this mystery and ride on some roller coasters.”

“Do we have to?” Ray groaned, “true, that’s a Sunny thing, but couldn’t we enjoy something more peaceful, like a haunted house?”

“No! Roller coasters!”

“Huh. Where are we, anyway?” Titus asked.

“Eh, it’s not quite Canada and it’s not quite Greenland, but it’s somewhere close to those places,” Ray answered.

“Of course. I just had to come to some remote area. Next thing I know, they’ll be harvesting my organs.”

“You play the organ?” I asked Titus.

“No, not the musical instrument...I did play the trombone once, but that was a dark period in my life.”

“Ah,” I nodded. The world of adults really was complicated.

Did you hear that, Astraea? Aren’t humans odd?

Again, no answer.

At least I wasn’t scared to admit that I missed her sometimes too. And I could do so without causing trouble.

We were at the entrance now. There was a booth and someone with long, brown hair which extended down to their ankles. They wore short shorts and a tank top and were shivering in place harder than even Remora did sometimes. On their face was a big, drooping, panicked expression.

“H-Hi, welcome to Iceland,” the chilly big hair greeted us, “here’s your ticket.”

They handed Ray and I a ticket. Ray took a glance at it, then pointed to the ticket.

“Shouldn’t we pay for this?” He asked.

“Here at Iceland, we don’t believe in charging money for things,” the booth person explained.

“What’s your name, stranger?” I asked.

“Oh. I’m…is this allowed? Um. I’m Calen? I’m kind of girl-adjacent. You could say that I’m not a girl or boy, but also I’m a girl. Mostly I’m scared because I don’t know why I applied for this job. And you are?”

“I’m Tigershark! I’m a tiger and a shark, but also I’m a girl!”

“I...I see. Well, this is, uh, this is...Iceland? Yeah, it is. Enjoy, please. My paycheck depends on it.”

“Sounds like a fragile paycheck.”

“Yes, well...it’s the only day Iceland will be around. So we gotta make the most of it, yes?”

“But why is it around today? Why not tomorrow? Why only today?”

“Ah...uh...I don’t really know, but I wanna get paid, you feel?”

I shook my head and scowled.

“Adults really are complicated,” I grumbled.

Once we were inside the amusement park, all the crowds around the area scattered to different areas of the park as if scared of Ray and I. Or maybe they were on a tight schedule. I really didn’t know.

“It seems like they’re all actors and we’re the audience,” Ray said.

“Or we’re the actors and they’re the audience?” I suggested.

“I think you’re right, but I also think it’s the opposite of what you said. I think they’re the audience who are also actors and we’re...Truman.”

“Truman?” I asked, sure it was just another Ray-ism.

“Right. I have to keep reminding myself that the 90s were a long time ago.”

We approached one of the rides, a spinny roller coaster with seats that looked like tomatoes.

“Let’s go on this one!” I pointed to Ray and tugged on his sleeve.

When we approached the ride, however, there was yellow tape in front of the gate saying ‘out of service’ and someone with long, brown hair which reached down to their ankles stood. I was so sure they were Calen, like the one at the front gate to the amusement park, but this person had a pink mustache on, so it couldn’t be Calen.

“Oh, uh, hello, uh, sir? Sorry, this ride...it’s closed,” they informed us, and I could’ve sworn they sounded just like Calen, too.

“That’s Ray,” I pointed to Ray.

“Oh, right, uh. Yes, you are. Ray, this ride is closed.”

“I’m Tigershark.”

“Yes, I remember you..er, I mean, nice to meet you. Sorry, this ride is closed.”

“You ARE Calen!” I pivoted my finger and pointed at them.

“I am! Err...am I? No, I am not! I’m...Caelid?”

“And why is the ride closed?” Ray asked.

“Because it is non-operational!” Calen (I was sure of it now) declared.

“Oh, so is it just for display? Is it a prop?”

“How did you – I mean, no. It’s just not working today.”

“What can we do here?”

“You can...play hackey sack? I like to do that.”

“Couldn’t we do that anywhere?”

“Eep! Maybe! You’re probably right! Well, there’s the haunted house.”

“Cool. Wanna do the haunted house, Tigershark?”

I crossed my arms and huffed.

“Fine, but I bet it’s not even haunted,” I pouted.

“I hope not! Haunted houses are scary!” Calen wailed.

“They’re supposed to be scary!”

“You’re right. You will have the scariest time of your life.”

Calen pointed toward the haunted house: it was just a small, long building of sorts with a fairly straightforward entrance and exit. As we headed toward, Ray took a quick glance ahead at the horizon, just a little past the back of the amusement park. Whatever he saw or thought he saw, he didn’t seem to want to tell me.

I’ll force him to tell me once we’re done with this haunted house, I decided.

There was no one waiting for us at the entrance asking us about tickets or anything. We just walked in. As soon as we did so, all the light from the outside world faded and we were left in a darkness that was quite befitting of the name ��haunted house’. Of course, I could still see Ray beside me, with his hands in his jacket pockets.

Just a few steps in, a cardboard picture of a floating sheet ghost with big googly eyes popped out from the wall. Ray flinched, then flicked the cardboard picture. I turned my nose at such a fake scare.

Further in, we heard voices come from behind the walls:

“Ooh, I’m a ghost. Ooh,” moaned one of the voices in a rather uneasy, shaky tone. If I had to guess, I’d say that was Calen.

“I’m a zombie or whatever. I’m going to eat this ghost’s brain,” was the other voice, which sounded rather bored.

“No! Don’t eat my brain! Do ghosts even have brains?”

“Did you even have a brain when you were alive? Hmm? Or what about these people walking through the house? Perhaps they have brains. Yes. Let’s see if theirs are tasty.”

That time, I admit I let out a shudder.

Behind me, in what must have been just a few paces back, one of the walls slid open and I heard a creak. I dared not look behind me, even as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

Then, I heard slow, deliberate footsteps. Just a little light tap against the stony floor that we happened to walk upon.

As the footsteps drew closer, a low, rumbling groan sounded:

“Uhhh...flesh. Meat. Starch. Ketchup.”

Ray and I continued to walk at a steady pace but my legs were starting to shake real bad.

The zombie must have taken big strides as despite us keeping our pace, I soon felt a hot breath against my neck. Whoever’s breath it was, it smelled like buttery baked potatoes.

“AAAAAAAAAA!” I screamed and ran past Ray at top speed out of the haunted house.

As soon as I pushed through the wooden double doors, the outside world opened up and blinded my eyes and I bumped into some large, fuzzy figure right away.

Is it a bear? I wondered.

I looked up and there was Calen in a big bear costume, with her head poking out and little round bear ears at the top.

“Hello kid, I’m beary happy to meet you,” she tried working up a big, jolly bear voice.

“Sure you are, Calen,” I groaned and rubbed my head.

“Was it scary enough?” She looked back toward the door, which as soon as she said that, the doors opened and Ray walked out while adjusting his tie.

“I do say, that was a rather mediocre experience,” he remarked, “but what else should I expect from an amusement park? Especially one where there seems to only be two employees.”

“There’s more! Probably! I know I didn’t set this all up on my own!” Calen waved her bear paws about.

“Of that, I have no doubt. You and that zombie, or maybe there are more people, seem to only be pawns. But the purpose for this amusement park is the real mystery.”

“The amusement park is here for amusement! It’s in the name!” Calen jumped about.

“Right. Come along, Tigershark. I think I’ve solved this mystery.”

“Aye-aye!” I did a little salute, then hopped toward him as we walked away from Calen.

He had his sights set on a log cabin behind the amusement park, elevated on a small hill.

As we walked, he explained a few things to me.

“I’m pretty sure my hunch was correct: most of the fine folks we shared a line with were probably workers here, with maybe one or two people not in on the joke aside from us, to give off a veil of authenticity. But, of course, the con was so obvious that I have to assume we were meant to notice something suspicious about this place. I’m sure we’ll get the answers we need if we talk to the ‘boss’ of this whole operation.”

“I see,” my eyes widened and I nodded along. I didn’t understand all of it, but I appreciated some kind of explanation.

I still hate to admit it, but that zombie was scary, I thought while we walked toward the back of the park.

I noticed someone behind us, sneaking around. Sure, if it was a zombie, I would have beat them up, but no, it was a brown, fuzzy looking someone.

“What are you doing?” I turned around and saw Calen, crouched and following us.

“I...I’m making sure you two don’t go anywhere you’re not supposed to. I also work security here.”

“Do you now?” Ray asked.

“I’m also a clown,” Calen added, “I can do tricks to keep you two occupied. Or maybe you two want to ride on the carousel? I heard there’s horses. Though you may be disappointed to find that the horses aren’t real. I’m terribly sorry.”

“You’re a clown? Can you make balloon animals?”

Calen shook her head furiously.

“I’m a bear clown, bear clowns can’t do balloon animals. I can blow a balloon, but I just can’t shape it.”

“Some clown you are,” I said.

“Well, I’m not really a clown. I’m not really a bear, either. I’m actually a human. This is just a bear costume.”

“Sure, I’ve heard that one before, too.”

We continued our walk toward the building despite Calen urging us to go elsewhere. Before we could get too much further, a lone woman with short, white hair and wearing a blue uniform shirt with little chest pockets and sporting a pair of skinny jeans appeared.

“You will go no further,” she announced, blocking our way to the back gate. She then pulled out a pistol just to prove that she was serious and pointed it at us.

“You know too much. You need to be eliminated,” she said.

“You’re not going to shoot me, too, Cael?!” Calen cried.

“I don’t know,” Cael turned her attention toward Calen while maintaining her aim at Ray. “I always knew it would come to this, Calen: us two, on opposing ends of the battlefield. In the end, I have to decide whether my resolve is stronger than our bond.”

“Can we talk this out?” Ray asked.

“I would rather not. I’m not good with talking to people,” Cael replied. “The boss said that if anyone tries to snoop around, we should stop them. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“And who is your boss?”

“You know too much as it is! I cannot say any more!”

From Cael’s pants pocket, a phone rang and Cael picked it up.

“What?” She growled into the phone.

“Put the gun down. There’s been a change of plans. These people are our guests, after all,” I heard the ‘boss’ tell Cael.

“Do you know how inconvenient this is for me?!” She shouted.

The boss hung up and Cael put her phone back into her pocket, then tossed the gun aside.

“It wasn’t even a real gun, anyway,” she grumbled, then walked off.

All three of us watched Cael walk away to the side, past where the haunted house attraction was.

“Where is she going?” Ray asked Calen.

“Oh, Cael always goes to fast food restaurants and orders a bunch of french fries whenever she gets mad. The boss set up a Burger Duke in the amusement park, with actual employees, just for Cael,” Calen explained.

“Oh! Are you and Cael a co…?” I was about to ask when Calen interrupted.

“Yeah, we’re a coworkers. Been coworkers for years. Always applied to the same jobs, always on the verge of homelessness.”

“That’s impressive!”

“Is it? It’s scary never knowing where our next paycheck or meal or shelter is going to come from. Plus Cael can get pretty scary, especially when she doesn’t get her fries.”

“Adult life does sound scary,” I nodded.

“I know, right?! I just want to be a teddy bear!” Calen whined.

“Hey, let’s meet up with your friend Cael at this place,” Ray suggested, “besides, I’m sure Tigershark here is hungry.”

“We’re not friends, we’re a co...coworkers!”

“Roar!” I said to show that I was hungry. My stomach growled in agreement.

All three of us headed toward Burger Duke. It was a popular fast food restaurant chain. Grandma and Grandpa took Astraea and I there a few weeks ago. Astraea got a mini-whooper, while I got a double whooper with extra pickles. The food was...fine. It was tasty, but I knew in my heart that I could cook better food than that.

Astraea still found it an interesting experience, and even tried dipping her fries in multiple sauces at once. She even tried mixing several sauces together. I’m talking honey mustard, ranch dressing, barbecue sauce, ketchup, and mayonnaise.

Grandma and Grandpa were happy enough seeing her seem to enjoy herself. I enjoyed it too, because it was yummy food. But again, I could have cooked better.

As soon as Ray, Calen, and I walked into the Burger Duke, we looked around and saw Cael sitting at one of the booths with a tray covered in fries. It looked like fry mountain over there. She ate one fry at a time, and in between every few fries, she sprinkled a ton of salt over the fry mountain.

I ran toward Cael while Ray stepped up to the counter to order food.

“Hey Tigershark, what do you want to eat?” He called over.

“Salmon nuggets!” I cupped my hands and shouted back to him. After he nodded, I walked up to where Cael was sitting.

“Can I sit next to you?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, “sure.”

I crawled upon the booth and sat next to her.

“Can I have some of your fries?” I asked.

“Sure.”

I took a handful and shoved some in my mouth. Calen walked up to Cael too.

“H-Hey Cael, are you mad?” She asked her coworker.

“Not anymore. I have fries now,” Cael answered. “Want one?”

“Yes please! I haven’t eaten all day!”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Mine,” Calen pouted.

“Yes. I always tell you to eat plenty of starch,” Cael shook her head, grabbed a fry, then held it up to Calen’s mouth. Calen opened her mouth and leaned in closer to take the fry out of Cael’s hand.

I’m pretty sure Calen swallowed that fry without chewing as it was gone in one gulp.

“Good as always. Tastes just like you, Cael,” Calen remarked.

“Hmm...not a bad thing to taste like.”

Ray sat down and brought over a box of salmon nuggets for me. He also had two sodas in his hand. One, a prune soda, for him, and for me, a tangerine soda.

“Ms. Cael, I’m sure you think I know too much, but I can assure you that I don’t know enough,” Ray said to Cael.

“Just Cael is fine. And you know what you know and you don’t know what you don’t know.”

“That is usually how it works, yes.”

“I want you to know that even if it looks like I take my job very seriously, I actually just want to eat and have a roof over my head,” Cael explained.

“That’s something everyone should have, yes,” Ray agreed, “I certainly wouldn’t want to take food or a roof away from you. I just want to know: who is your boss?”

“I don’t know his name, he just wanted us to call him boss. He looked kinda like you, actually.”

“Really? I thought he had brown hair,” Calen added.

“Maybe his roots were brown, but I’m pretty sure his hair itself was black,” Cael argued.

“Would you mind if I went to see this boss of yours?” Ray asked.

“I don’t mind. I’m off the clock right now.”

“You are? I didn’t even know we were ever on the clock,” Calen replied.

“But of course we’ve been on the clock. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t get paid, right?”

“No, no, because the boss already paid us for a day’s worth of pay before we started our shift today, right?”

“Huh. I’m going to have to ask him about that. Maybe I should go with you.”

“Yes. Let’s all four of us get down to the bottom of this mystery,” Ray agreed.

“Mystery solving time!” I cheered.

I shoveled the salmon nuggets into my mouth and chugged down the soda. Calen and Cael shoved handfuls of fries into each other’s mouths. Ray took his time.

It didn’t matter, because we were soon out the door anyway and headed toward the back of the amusement park.

Up the hill, we reached the cabin. Ray knocked on the door. Then I knocked harder and faster. There wasn’t an answer either time.

“I’m pretty sure it’s unlocked,” Cael said before turning the handle on the door.

Indeed, it was unlocked, and we soon walked in.

The carpeted floor had some kind of confetti pattern along the way, while the walls were a fresh pine scent of wooden boards. We passed by a lot of doors before we reached one where a sign said ‘boss’s office’.

Ray knocked. Still no answer. However, this time, he was the one to open the door, and not Cael.

All four of us walked in, only to find the office without any boss in it.

There were bookshelves on each end, a window with a view to the outside, a big desk, and a puffy leather swivel chair. No boss, though.

“Were we scammed again?” Calen asked.

“We already got paid, didn’t we? Isn’t that good enough?” Cael replied.

On the desk sat one of those phones which had a squiggly wire attached at the bottom and hooked up to some machine.

As soon as I noticed it, the phone rang.

Ray picked it up, and it went right to speaker phone as we all heard:

“Hello, Ray. I hope you were as amused by this amusement park as I was. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet today, of all days, but don’t worry, you will be seeing me around real soon,” the mysterious boss said.

“Aion? Why did you go through all this trouble?” Ray asked.

“Eh, eh, eh. No, Ray. Not yet. We can talk more once we meet. For now, I’m happy enough just to know that you heard my voice. Or maybe I’m happy to hear your voice. I’ll let you decide.”

Ray didn’t give a reply, and I thought the call ended, but then the voice had one more thing to say:

“Oh, by the way, Calen, Cael: you’re fired.”

The two girls next to me both erupted into a panic and held each other tight.

“Why?!” They cried.

“Because the amusement park was one day only. Now that I have no use for you two, there’s no reason to keep you around.”

“Wait, Aion –” Ray tried to get another word in, but was interrupted.

“No, I’m not taking any questions at the time. See you around, Ray.”

The call ended.

We all took turns staring at each other, not sure what to do now. In fact, the first person to talk was Calen, who said exactly that:

“We’re all just staring at each other, but I’m not sure what to do now.”

“We’ll have to look for another job,” Cael answered.

“But out here? And in the middle of nowhere?”

“We’ve been through worse. I’m sure we’ll find another job together.”

“Right. You wouldn’t leave me.”

“Unless I find a job that hires me and doesn’t hire you, then I might.”

“No!” Calen sank to the floor and hugged Cael’s knees. “Say it isn’t so!”

“You two. How about you come live with us at our diner?” Ray suggested.

My mouth widened into a grin. As odd as those two have been, I really did enjoy their company.

“We’re really going to add more people to our home?” I asked, the excitement leaking from me.

“Sure. We’ve got rooms available, if they’re willing.”

“But we can’t just live there without working, can we?” Calen asked.

“You can wash dishes, if you want.

“Will there be french fries?” Cael asked.

“We have potatoes. It all depends on whether we decide to deep fry them.”

“We’re in,” Calen and Cael agreed.

And so, the four of us took our journey back home to the Remora’s Full Inn.