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fanfic-cave · 4 years ago

Text

Injured Pt 1.

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Subtle hint to Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: Shootout/skirmish, swearing, I might hurt your favorite TBB character dont kill me yet

Summary: You commissioned the bad batch to take you to Dantooine for your own personal mission in search of a Jedi temple. How will this ex-Jedi war veteran trying to hide from the Empire help the rogue clones when they inevitable get caught up in the fight? And who will get hurt?

Authors note: I had this fun idea of writing an action piece with TBB, and I've had some more fun ideas with a Jedi OC getting caught up in their shenanigans. My first draft was kinda long winded, so i'm making this a 2 parter. If this gets well received enough to make me feel more confident in my writing (like 20-30 likes or smthing) ill post part 2 :)

ALSO im a big KOTOR fan so there's the tiniest tiniest hint to that ("jedi temple" and "Bol") with being on Dantooine.

Okay now for real, enjoy!

edit: thanks for the notes! link to pt 2 here

Your speeder zoomed by quickly, passing some local Bol ranchers. Dantooine was full of them, and farms too. The rural planet was actually quite peaceful, that was, until the empire arrived. Now that they were governing over citizens, they began cracking down and enforcing strict trade and farming laws. You interacted with some of the locals, and despite the clone wars being over they didn’t seem to have much love for the new Empire.

The Bad Batch had come to make a supply run, trade for food and fuel on the very small landing station, and also to escort you to Dantooine per your request (you had paid them too). Instead of paying with credits for their supplies, they had to do some “manual labor”, helping the local farmers. Based on how quiet they had been on your comm link, you thought they had been quite busy. You had your own objective here though, one you had just completed. Now you needed to leave.

You got closer to the station, and saw a high count of imperial troopers. You swore under your breath, and suddenly you felt like the items in your pack weighed more, or would suddenly burst into flames. Kyber crystals don’t catch fire, you told yourself. I think.

You pressed your comms and began to speak “I’m en route to the ship, and we’ve got imperials at the station, I hope you’re ready to take off.”

Silence.

“Kriff!” You said aloud. You slowed the speeder to a stop. The strange group of rogue clones were known for finding trouble. You had really hoped they wouldn’t find any while traveling with you.

“Tech, Echo, Hunter? Does anybody copy?”

You heard explosions in the distance.

Kriffing idiots! You shook your head in frustration and put a hand around your vibroblade holstered at your hip. It didn’t take the force to know they were behind this.

“You’re about to have some more company” you heard Hunter over the comms, blaster fire in the background.

“What the hell did you do??”

“Get to the ship, we need to make a fast exit, with or without you.”

More profanities went through your head. You engaged the speeder, faster than you were going earlier. You could hear blaster fire. You had been making a beeline to the ship, prepared to avoid the troopers, but something tugged at your mind.

They’re in trouble. You were a very intuitive person, partially because of your training as a Jedi, and also because that was just in your nature. You thought for a moment, contemplating what action to take.

Trust your gut.

You swerved and headed straight for the fighting. You slipped your mask on, and pulled up your hood. You saw some troopers marching towards the fighting, blasters in hand. They hadn’t noticed you were heading straight for them.

Glad I came to save your asses. You thought. Well, you needed them to pilot, so you were saving your ass too. One trooper turned, and pointed at you. The others started to notice too.

You set the speeder to continue forward without needing your foot on the accelerator, and balanced your feet on the seat. It kept accelerating in speed, heading straight to the center of the 10 or so troopers. Just before their blasters fired, you leaped off the bike gracefully, launching yourself high in the air. The speeder crashed into one trooper, and spun into another 3.

You landed with no problem, and prepared for action. You dodged several blaster shots, and pulled out your vibroblade. You dashed toward a trooper to the left, and cleanly sliced at a weak point in the armor. He clutched his side, and fell to the ground. One came behind you, grabbing your elbow. You shoved your elbow into his face, and heard a crack. He staggered back, and you ducked to avoid another blaster shot, getting a quick slash into the trooper you had just elbowed with a flick of your wrist.

You jumped and did a backflip, effectively avoiding another wave of blaster fire. On your way down, you stabbed another trooper in the side, and grabbed him, using him as a human shield to block more oncoming shots. You sheathed the sword, grabbed his hand holding the blaster, and shot towards an oncoming trooper. He fell down, and you fired at the remaining two who charged, and they were quickly out of the fight. You released the trooper you used as a meat shield. The entire group was now down and injured, not able to fight.

You dropped the blaster and started to run towards the main fight, but then you halted as a thought occurred to you. You crouched down to a fallen command trooper and took his comm links. This might come in handy. You continued forward, shoving the unit in your pack. You resumed your dash towards the source of the previous explosions. You first saw Crosshair, providing cover fire while taking cover himself behind a transport.

“The cavalry’s here” you said on your com link. Next you saw Tech, using two blaster pistols. He was close to Wrecker, who was throwing barrels at a group of troopers. You think they were filled with grain. Hunter and Echo were circling the troopers, trying to get a good flank while Wrecker was effectively distracting them. Hunter spotted you and spoke through comms “What are you doing? Get to the ship!”

You ignored him, and pulled out the blade again. You managed to ambush some troopers and sliced through them easily, taking down 3 in less than a minute. “You should thank me, I just took care of the reinforcements heading this way.”

You saw a knife hit the chest of a storm trooper you were just about to stab through the shoulder. Hunter emerged from behind you and retrieved his knife from the now fallen trooper. Show off, you thought.

“Why didn’t you go to the ship?” Hunter demanded.

“I had a feeling you guys could use the help.” You replied.

He looked at you for a moment after you said this, and with his helmet on you couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. You thought he might be shocked at what you said. You noticed a trooper approaching you two, lining up a shot on Hunter. You quickly grabbed a stray blaster from a fallen trooper and shot him down. Hunter was quick too; within a second of your shot, he shot another trooper not too far away. He looked back to you, and gave a quick nod in thanks.

“What did you guys do to attract the Empire?” You asked suspiciously.

“Well to put it simply, we severely disabled a facility belonging to the Empire as a form of payment. They appear to be quite agitated with us.” Tech replied through comms.

You ducked to avoid another blaster shot, Echo returned the shot and the trooper fell. “Gee, you think so?” You spoke sarcastically.

“We need to retreat and get back to the ship.” Echo spoke, taking cover a few feet away.

“Where’s Omega?” You interjected. You looked around for her, still not seeing her. “Back on the ship, the mission was too dangerous for her to come.” Hunter replied.

You sighed as blaster shots continued to go off in the background. “What's the plan?” You heard Crosshair speak through comms. He sounded annoyed, but he almost always sounded annoyed to you, amongst other things.

Hunter thought for a moment, and then he addressed the group. “Alright, Crosshair, you’ll provide cover fire while we retreat. We’ll need some more noise too-”

“I’ve got something that can help with that.” You interrupted. “Give me some cover.” You raised up the blaster you had grabbed, then ran over to Tech, firing shots as you went. Hunter and Echo emerged from their cover to fire at the troopers nearby you. Once you arrived you ducked down behind cover and threw the stolen comm link to Tech.

He caught it with both hands. “An imperial com unit?” Tech looked at it curiously, then shifted his eyes to you. “I thought you might be able to use it. Think you can cause some mayhem with it?” You asked curiously. Tech inspected it for a quick moment. “Oh yes, this should work.”

“Alright. Wrecker, Sera, keep the troopers off Tech. Echo and I will try to keep them on us. When Tech gives the signal, we move.” Everyone got their weapons ready, Echo nodded. “No problem!” Wrecker said enthusiastically and gave a thumbs. You also nodded as confirmation that you were ready.

Echo started firing at troopers, Hunter pulled out his knife and began alternating between slashing through troopers and shooting with his blaster. Wrecker was closer to you and actually picked up a trooper and threw him. You provided some cover fire and stayed close to Tech. He was fiddling with the unit.

“How much longer?” You asked after a minute passed. “Almost…” Tech said. You felt a sudden sense of urgency, and lifted your head up, searching around. “Somethings not right-”

Hunter leapt out of cover and ran over to Wrecker, who was laughing and enthusiastically throwing some heavy boxes at the troopers. “Wrecker, get down!”

You heard shots fire, and they were different. Wherever it made contact, there was a small explosion. This was some heavy fire power. The blasts made a sweeping arc. It fired towards Crosshair, who had to roll out of the way. You and Tech ducked as a shot came your way. You were knocked back a few feet from the closeness of the explosion. You lifted your head up and saw Echo was okay, and then you looked for Wrecker and Hunter.

Wrecker managed to avoid getting hit, he was to the right lying on the ground behind cover. Hunter wasn’t as lucky though. It looked like he took some blaster fire, and fell to the ground on his back. He was holding his side, and you saw blood on his hands.

#tbb #the bad batch #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #Echo #Hunter #Crosshair #Wrecker #Tech #Empire #Dantooine #Action #Fanfic #hunter x reader #bad batch x reader #Jedi #Ex Jedi

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brandywine-tomatoes · 4 years ago

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Omega's Sixteenth

99 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!!

Masterlist

Characters: The Bad Batch + Omega, Rex, Hera

Prompt/Inspo: #2 from my list: Cross teaches an older Omega how to use a rifle.

TW: blaster shots (to the armour, everyone's fine), it's just a lot of banter and family shenanigans

Word count: 1857

QUICK NOTE: just a bunch of fluff. This'll be a two or three part deal, so Cross actually teaching Omega how to use his rifle will come.

NO BETA, WE DIE LIKE CLONES

“Hunter, where we going?” Omega shouted ahead of the running group. Her hands were tightly gripped around the gold energy bow with a purple bolt already in place.

“Keep going!” He yelled, farther back down the hallway with the rest of the Batch.

Omega didn’t think her sixtieth birthday would be spent raiding an Imperial base for information, but there she was, dodging blaster bolts from circular corridors and laying down cover fire for the Batch who were looking for a way out as they ran aimlessly around the sky compound.

The skull embroidered bandana around her forehead kept her brown hair from her face as the customized armour weighed her down. She backed against a wall, peering down a corridor and quickly sprung back from the sizzling bolts whisking by.

Omega jumped from her spot and rolled away from the laying shots, pulling back the bowstring rapidly to take down the KX-series security droid. She was still on her knees with her bow outstretched as her team rounded the corner.

She stood, rolling her shoulders and pointing to the window at the other end. “We could jump.”

“And get squished like pancakes?” Wrecker sounded uneasy through his helmet. “No thanks, I’ll take the stairs.”

“We have KXs inbound,” Crosshair interrupted.

Omega walked to Cross’s position, the sniper offering his fire puncher for her to see. The scope looked through the walls and picked up the movement of what looked like a whole platoon of droids. “Shit.”

“Language!” Hunter raised his voice.

“No, I agree. We’re in deep shit.” Cross took back his rifle.

“Omega’s right, the window is our only option if we value our lives,” Tech looked back at the group from the circuit breaker he was fiddling with on the wall.

A duo of security droids came around the corner, blasting away. The Batch dove for cover around both corners, Crosshair, Hunter, and Tech across from Omega and Wrecker.

Omega and Hunter counted down to sync their defence and Omega’s bow was shot into another corridor as soon as she tried to let lose an energy bolt. She jumped back in shock and shook out her hands.

“You okay, kid?” Wrecker shouted over the blaster fire.

“I’m fine, but I don’t have a weapon!”

“Catch,” Crosshair sounded from the commlink wedged in her armour.

Crosshair threw a spare blaster across the hall with expert precision, Omega catching it with one hand and flying out into the fire of the droids. After a couple missed shots, she sent them both to the ground in a sparking heap.

Hunter ran from his spot against the wall and checked Omega over.

“Did they hit you? Are you injured?” He asked frantically.

“What is it with you guys? I’m fine, only a shot in the armour,” she shrugged Hunter’s hands off her shoulders. A fleeting look of hurt passed over his face before relief.

“We don’t have time, they’re rounding the corner,” Crosshair’s voice flooded through the comms.

“You could do what you did on Skako,” Echo looked down the corridor to find Cross firing an offence.

“Not enough time.”

Omega started down the hall towards the window, picking up speed. “The window it is!”

“Omega wait! We have to wait for the ship!” Echo shouted.

“We’re going to be blasted to hell if we wait! Tell them to hurry up!”

She heard Echo’s frantic chatter on the comms and the group’s heavy footfalls bouncing off the round steel walls as they followed her lead.

As the security droids rounded the corner, Omega was pushed through the tinted glass by a bolt to the back, tumbling through the air before landing face-first on the wing of the Havoc Marauder. She flipped herself onto her back and groaned, watching the blaster fire shoot out the window before, one by one, the batch landed on the wing. Their pilots kept the ship steady and flew off in a hurry once everyone had a hold.

If Omega wasn’t shot twice in the armour, she would’ve laughed blissfully as they flew through the fluffy orange clouds, holding out her arms as the moisture-created little droplets running off the armour plates and slicking back her hair. Instead, she laid there on the wing, holding on for dear life and hoping the moisture wouldn’t loosen her grip.

“You okay?” Hunter yelled over the rushing wind to Omega.

“Stop it!” She growled back.

Echo put a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Kids are like this when they’re older, it’ll pass. Don’t get hung up on it.”

Hunter only nodded, putting on his stoic face and looked ahead into the clouds.

Once they were far enough away from the Imperial compound, the Havoc touched down on a hill in the middle of a rolling prairie. Blue skies with fluffy clouds surrounded them and the plain landscape.

The Bad Batch slid off the wing, Omega refusing Hunter’s help, and waited for their pilots to extend the steps.

Hera exited the ship first, shouting that she was going to kill Omega for her ridiculous plan and started chasing the brunette. Omega took off in a sprint, yelling that it wasn’t her fault while laughing her head off. The Batch started taking bets on whether Omega would outrun Hera or not and cheered the kids on.

Rex watched the madness ensue, leaning against the door frame with a smile. A fleeting and pained memory of Anakin and Ahsoka at the start of her padawan days passed through and his smile dropped, his light mood dampened. He couldn’t let go of family so easily, but it only made it more painful to go on each day without them.

“We should probably get out of here, Sargent. Imps will be crawling all over the planet,” Rex retreated inside to the co-pilot's seat.

“Alright, pack it in guys! Onto the ship!” Echo shouted to the girls far off in the distance.

Omega sprinted up the steps, gasping for air while Hera held a smile on her face, her breathing barely obstructed. She saw the confusion and the team’s heads turning from the ship to her.

“I was track star at my school, 100 meters in 5 seconds,” she said proudly and climbed into the ship.

“Who knew?” Hunter remarked.

“You would if you paid attention to your kids,” Crosshair smirked and boarded the ship with the rest following.

“I do pay attention! You got something you want to say, Cross?”

“Of course not, Sarg.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Sargent Hunter,” the rebel cell leader’s recorded message projected on the dash. “You will be fairly compensated and given your next mission in two weeks. Enjoy this time off, there won’t be much more.”

Tech shut down her hologram and looked to Hunter in the seat behind Rex. The rest of the crew waited for their leader’s next order. They hadn’t had two weeks off... ever. The most clones got was a weekend, Omega was constantly working with Nala and then going on missions, and Hera had been training as a pilot or busy with school and family. Even their droids were never shut down for more than a day.

Wrecker scratched the back of his neck. “What are we doing, Sarg?”

Silence.

“Hunter?” Omega piped up from the shared seat with Hera.

“I’m thinking,” he waved them off.

Crosshair scoffed playfully and went further back into the ship. “That’s a first.”

“It’s already pretty tight in here,” he started. “I say we touch down on a planet, enjoy the peace for once.”

Hunter saw Hera visibly deflate and Omega put an arm around her shoulder.

“You can fly the ship, Hera, but only with one of the adults around,” Hunter added in defeat. She bounced in her seat and started talking with Omega excitedly, pressing a button on the armrest and spinning the seat around back to the stars.

“Where are you thinking?” Rex asked, silently praying for no god damn desert planets.

“I don’t know. Tech, any ideas?”

Tech pulled up his trusty datapad and started furiously tapping at the screen.

Crosshair had returned from the poor excuse of a kitchen with two soda cans and strolled smugly through the aisle to Hera and Omega. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the console, and gave the soda over to the kids. They jumped excitedly, not knowing there was any more of the fizzy drinks left, and swiped them from his hands. They filled him in quietly on what they were conversing about as Crosshair gave the rest of the crew a shit-eating smirk.

“I didn’t know we had any soda left,” Wrecker whispered to Hunter across from him.

“We don't.”

“This is why he’s the favourite, isn’t it?” Rex leaned to the side towards the two.

“He did this all the time on Kamino when we were cadets. It got the others off our backs.”

“I just hid in the ceiling panels,” Rex snickered.

“You weren’t always ‘mister beloved of the GAR’?” Echo shoved the captain's shoulder from his place against the wall.

“Hell no. Pretty sure Cody was part of the ‘fuck Rex squad’ at some point.”

“I think we all have seasonal membership cards.”

“Hey!”

“So there’s Mantessa,” Tech interrupted with the list of planets. “A thick jungle planet with a fiercely predatorial native species called the panthacs. They kill quite efficiently in their home environments; I’d quite literally commit murder to get documentation of their-”

“Tech, we have kids on board,” Hunter stopped him. “Maybe something more... vacation-y?”

Tech glared at him. “Vacation-y isn’t even a word-”

“Tech.”

“Fine fine,” he dismissed the idea, a little saddened that Hunter shot it down so eagerly.

“Mimban is largely unexplored and has a very turbulent atmosphere as well as energy storms in the stratosphere. It would be quite the learning experience for Hera to-”

“We aren’t looking for learning experiences, we’re looking for a break,” Echo said.

“You all have ridiculous standards,” he mumbled, scrolling to the bottom of his list. “Numidian Prime. The syndicates have been known to use it from time to time, but with the Empire extending it’s rein, it shouldn’t house too much trouble for us. There’s a very interesting bird species-”

“Tech.”

“I swear it’s habitable and without predatory species that would rip us to shreds,” he dismissed Hunter’s insistence. He tossed the datapad carefully on top of his satchel in the corner. “I think I heard a friend having a camp there, a Calrissian. He’ll let us stay.”

“How do you know?” Rex asked.

“He’s never there.”

Hunter clapped his hands, getting everyone's attention. “It looks like we’re vacationing on Numidian Prime.”

Hera, Omega, and Rex went to work on plotting their course and getting them to lightspeed while the Batch strapped in for the ride.

“After you,” Rex gestured to the console.

“Why thank you, Captain,” Hera smiled and pulled the hyperspace levers back. The ship stopped for a second and shot forward into the stars, a tunnel of churning light making way for the Havoc.

Omega sighed blissfully, sitting back against the seat. “This never gets old.”

I haven't posted any fics in 11 days, I really just needed to get something out for y'all.

ALSO

I reached 99 followers yesterday!! Well, it's 101 now, but thank you all for giving me a chance at sharing my love for Star Wars. It's you that makes this possible! I know I have a lot of improving to do when it comes to writing, but I'm so incredibly happy that you're giving me a chance and following along on my journey!!

Part 2 will be up soon (I hope), stick around for that! I post basically every day and I'm constantly online!

More fics of mine!

A War Without a Winning Side (Ahsoka, Rex, Maul series)

One of the Bad Ones (female!oc and Crosshair [platonic])

Only the Beginning (Cap. Howzer Part 1 (part 2 linked))

Hope was a Dangerous Game (male!oc and Crosshair [romantic])

Lightsaber Trials (fluff)

And here's my masterlist for more!

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

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Whatever It Takes

It's Task Force 141's first mission after gathering intel about the whereabouts of Samantha Coleman. Gary and the rest of the team proceed to briefing and would probably head straight to their rescue mission. Do these mini summaries even make sense? Find out soon.

Chapter 3 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Soap - F.N.G.

"Run Through the Jungle"

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 - Mess Hall

Gary was almost done with his raccoon story when the PA system alerted them of an immediate briefing. Simon nodded to him and got up making his way to the briefing room. Gary also noticed the rest of his squad from earlier walk to the door, and was France crying on Alex? Much to his curiosity, he went to John who was still sitting by the chair.

"Anything you want to tell me, Soap?" he asked, patting his comrade's shoulder.

"Bugger off, mate. Let's just go to the meeting." he replied, Roach couldn't tell if he was sad or disappointed or mad, but it may have something to deal with France crying.

"Whatever mate. I'm always here if you want to talk it out." he assured, and he was in fact true. It's been a month since the Task Force was created and Gary was the team's therapist, everybody's friend and ally no matter what. He always felt that he could feel everyone's emotions and believes he could be a sponge for someone who's unable to deal with the trauma. Ghost was one of his customers, he had a lot to deal with and Gary was always there for him.

"Few hours ago, our informants intercepted with a group of armed men on a safehouse near the borders of Germany. They told us that there was a man named Augustus who happens to be our step closer to Nero." Gary took note of the information General Shepherd relayed, his scribbles became faster as the General continued.

"We also received word that our hostage, Samantha Coleman is with them in one of these houses. We have to proceed with caution as this area may be rigged with traps or surrounded with tangos." he added.

"As for rules of engagement, fire only when fired upon. This is a local settlement and civilians may be anywhere. We don't want to create unnecessary civilian casualties just to retrieve a single person." he instructed. Gary took a quick survey of the room, everyone looked at the screen intently, he could see MacTavish's eyebrows furrowed in anger, France's eyes were downright sad and Alex, despite being a CIA agent, actually looked worried.

"As for assignments, I'll let your captain take the floor." Shepherd concluded and exited the area, Price then stepped forward and began briefing.

The silent chirping of the crickets echoed from the nearby forest. Gary took a cold exhale and leaned on the railings just outside their quarters.

"Big day tomorrow, huh?" Ghost surprised Roach as he spoke.

"Yeah, it's been a long time since I spotted, but I still know the basics." Gary answered. He and Ghost were assigned for sniper support a few clicks away from the Alpha Team lead by Alex and the Bravo Team lead by Captain Price.

"Your math is good and fast?" Ghost asked, chuckling at the question. Gary inhaled before he answered the question.

"Yeah. Try me." he dared, glancing at the masked man.

"Suppose there's a target about 516 meters far, the wind is one half value." Ghost planned out the situation. Gary's gears started turning as he scratched his freshly shaven chin.

"Five degrees. Descending." he muttered. Ghost thought about it and agreed.

"Yeah. Your math is still on point." he mused laughing at him.

"What do you think Nero is up to? I mean it all doesn't add up. And what's with erasing memories?" Gary flooded the man with questions. Simon just pondered without saying any words.

"I dunno mate. I'm as baffled as you are." he replied, waving to Alex and France who were out on a late night walk.

"Say Gary, what's the deal with the new girl? One minute she looks tough as nuts then the second Soap comes in she's fucking crying?" Ghost rambled. Gary could feel a hint of jealousy but not entirely. It's as if he's mad and jealous at the same time.

"Well, we were too far from their table and I couldn't hear anything. Maybe they had an argument while Soap was out with her on the training room?" Gary speculated, he saw Simon's fists clench as he left his side.

"Eh. Not that I care anyway. Get some rest, spotter. Big day tomorrow." he remarked and went to his room.

"Yeah yeah." he replied waving at the two walking around the oval. They both waved back and Gary yelled good night to them before entering the quarters himself.

Gary plopped on his bed and closed his eyes. He was actually nervous enough that he could hear his own heartbeat, he took deep breaths and lulled himself to sleep. He wanted to see to it that they save the hostage tomorrow and a perfect sleep is what he could contribute right now.

GERMANY

0458H

Gary hated the ghillie suits. It was heavy, uncomfortable and animals sometimes land on you, but it does the job well. Treading the dense forestry just above the safehouse, Gary and Simon head out to look for a perfect spot.

"This one's got a view of the houses." Ghost whispered, signaling Roach to move forward.

"This is Echo Three One, we've cleared the two houses on the right, all empty. Over." Alex reported over their comms.

"Bravo Six copies that and the two houses here are also clear." Price reported.

"Looks like it's going to be the one on the far side." Soap concluded.

"I've got eyes on the safehouse. There's no activity on all windows. Proceed with caution." Ghost reported.

"Rog." Price replied.

"Copy that, eye in the sky." Alex replied.

Gary put out his spotting scope and placed his eye behind the lens.

"I've got my eyes on them, Ghosty. Alpha Team is on its way." he whispered.

Ghost rolled some knobs on his sniper making a soft clicking sound as he spins it.

"Don't call me that, Bug. I have eyes on Bravo Team. Still no movement from the safehouse."

"This is Alpha Team, approaching the left side of the safehouse."

"Bravo Team is Oscar Mike as well."

"Roach, did you see that?" Ghost whispered.

"Yeah. The winds are shifting." Gary noted, sticking out a tool that detects wind speed.

"Three Fourths value at 400 meters. 15 miles per hour. Adjust to 15.3" he informed, calculating on Ghosts still shoulder with a pen. Decimals are too dangerous to calculate mentally. Ghost's sniper clicked once again to adjust with the wind, he took a deep breath and his targets stabilized once again.

Leaves rustled behind them, Roach quickly held on his rifle and slowly turned back to check if it was an animal. Nothing, but before turning back on his scope, he saw a black figure from the corner of his eye.

"Bollocks. We've got movement on our Six." Roach reported.

"Remember our ROE, Roach. Fire only when fired upon." Price reminded.

"I'll take care of it from here. You go check on that." Ghost said as he turned back to his scope.

"Roger that. Be safe." Roach quickly ran to the direction if the rustling.

He couldn't make out much of the figure, but he was sure enough it was human. He tried to look for areas where the leaves were disturbed but with the wind picking up, he was clueless. Then there it was again, movement. He quickly dashed to it's direction, not wanting to get lost again. His boots slapped the fresh soil as he made his wauy to a clearing.

'Left, right then left by the rocks.' Gary mentally noted his each turn so he could easily remember but when he's chasing someone whom he felt like it doesn't know where it goes, then it's a whole different story.

Gary was alone in the windy forest, in pursuit of a person who's out on the woods at five in the morning. He wanted to go back but there's something that bothered him and convinced him to keep chasing it.

"Roach, you okay? They're almost in the safehouse." Ghost pointed out.

"Yeah haaaah… I'm still haaaah… hot on its trail." Gary panted. He suddenly turned when he heard a yelp.

"It's a girl. It might be our hostage." he radioed and followed the direction of the sound.

Soft sobs and English curse words could be heard from where Gary emerged. This alerted the injured female and she plead at the British solider.

"Please. I'm not an enemy. I'm I'm- I don't know who I am or where I am… Please. Don't hurt me." She was an American girl, possibly around 20-30 years old and had blonde hair wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants, there were a few bruises on her arms and she was threatening him with a stick.

"Maam, put down your weapon and calm down. I will not hurt you." he dropped his weapon slowly on the ground stepped forward, his hands both raised.

"Good good. I need help." she whimpered, looking at her sprained ankle.

Gary immediately took his ghillie off and ripped a piece of his sleeves to wrap around the sprain, treating it with something from his medical kit.

"There you go… You're feeling better now? Maam?" Gary accommodated. The unknown blonde nodded in agreement.

"So.. you don't know who you are?" Gary asked.

"All I know is that I'm with another girl, Brunette." she added.

"I located the one out on the woods. She's American but I can't ID her. She's about 20 - 30 years old, short blonde hair." Gary informed.

"Is that Maxine?" Alex and France simultaneously replied over comms.

"Excuse me. Do you go by Maxine?" Gary asked politely. The girl quickly covered her ears and screamed.

"Aaaaaah! My head hurts!" She yelled. Gary was quick enough to cover her mouth as soon as she opened it as to not give away their presence.

"I don't know if that's a yes or a no guys. But that definitely is a reaction." Gary said over the comms. He assisted "Maxine" and lifted her up as he tries to get back to Ghost.

"Thick trees everywhere. Any Idea where you are Ghost?" he asked over the secure radio.

"I'm at the same spot I've been since we got here. Can't you retrace your steps?" he replied.

"I could try." he muttered, carrying an unconscious woman on his shoulders across the jungle.

Next Chapter : Déjà vu

#horRAYfic #codmw #codmwfic #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #Roach deserves some love

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un-fett-ered · 4 years ago

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finder’s keepers

In this universe, Boba invades an imperial base and finds the child instead of the Mandalorian.

note: So,,, I recently started writing fanfics. Here’s a one shot that ended up more serious than I wanted, so I probably won’t continue it.

warning: mostly canon-typical violence, a little mention of blood and mistreatment of the child

Boba squats in the thick brush, watching the pair of stormtroopers stand guard for a small back door. One chats loudly to their partner, their helmet faced towards the other and waving their hands wildly. Their partner seems uninterested and continues to slowly survey their stationed area. Boba glances down at his chronometer. Last night at the cantina, the Weequay had told him a routine supply shipment would be arriving around this time.

Even at high noon, humid fog was still lingering in the forest surrounding the Imperial base. Boba’s dark robes clung to his skin, chafing against some sensitive scar tissue on his back when he shifts. Boba tries to ignore it and instead focuses on relaxing his muscles while he waits.

The more stoic stormtrooper shifts and both troopers stiffen up, shuffling their feet to a more ready stance. Boba huffs – their stances are so lax, having not idea of the storm approaching. The stormtroopers are answering a call from their wrist-comms, catching Boba’s attention. The supply transports must have arrived.

Rolling his shoulders and flexing his legs to make sure his body hasn’t fallen asleep, Boba clicks the detonation button. The charges he had set around the supply drop area set off a satisfying chain of loud booms and the stormtroopers both turn sharply towards the noise. The previously chatty one immediately punches in the door code, rushing inside before the other trooper can stop them. The other trooper, clearly the wiser one, at least looks perfunctorily at the forest surrounding the back area of the base before going to punch in the door code.

Just as the door hydraulics begin to stir, Boba jumps out of bushes and raises his blaster to shoot the trooper before they can rush inside. Boba curls his lip in disdain at these stormtroopers for leaving their post at the slightest drop of trouble and leaving the door wide open for him. Oh, how standards have dropped. Stepping over the fallen body, Boba hears another set of heavy boots stomp away towards the front of the base before he tucks himself through the half open door.

The recycled air is crisp and dry compared to the heavy, muggy atmosphere outside. Someone has turned on the emergency red lights and the wailing alarms. Boba glances into empty dorm rooms as he heads down the hallway, blasters tilted down but finger on the trigger. A half dressed trooper bursts out of a refresher, still dripping water and pulling on pieces of his armor. Boba lifts a blaster to strike him twice on the exposed part of his torso then leaves him in the hallway. Gripping his two pistols, Boba peeks around the corner to the next hallway. He spots three troopers and a sign marking “storage”. Bingo.

One trooper breaks off from the group to walk in his direction. Boba silently backs away from the hallway entrance to attack the trooper when they turn the corner. Unfortunately for his plan for a quiet kill, the trooper yelps before falling.

Boba dashes quickly into the closest doorway. When the other troopers rush through the hallway, their heads are drawn towards their fallen friend on the floor.

Boba slams open the door again, squarely blasting the closest one in the chest. He jumps at the farther trooper, landing a solid elbow before the trooper can lift their heavy automatic blaster. Instead, the trooper swings the blaster like a blunt weapon, sweeping at Boba’s legs. Boba dodges to the right, ramming his shoulder in to push the trooper off balance. One of their arms goes flying out towards Boba, who grabs the arm and pulls the trooper close. Kicking out his legs in a wide stance, Boba uses the momentum to twist and slam the trooper’s head into the wall. If he then bangs the trooper’s head a few more times than needed, well, no one is here to see it.

Boba catches his breath, proudly standing over the mess he just created. Stifling a smile, Boba nabs a free detonator off a trooper’s belt and re-grips his blasters.

Boba puts his head around the corner, looking for any other patrolling troopers. Boba treads up to the first door marked “Storage”, but the door to the right has a visually complicated locking system and no window. Insecure people keeping valuables in visually secure boxes (as if to reassure themselves that it is safer), only paint a target for thieves. And Boba had made a living “acquiring” things and people alike. He slips easily past the mechanisms and the door slides open.

Boba’s foot hesitates in mid-air before he stalks forward and lifts a pistol at the shaking scientist in the corner. He closes the door behind him.

“What the kriff is that thing?” Boba demands, pointing at the wrinkly green – thing the scientist had practically shoved into a crib behind him.

The scientist edges over to block Boba’s view from the crib, holding up his hands, “it’s – it’s just a baby. Please don’t hurt it!”

Boba took in the sight of the baby and the scientist in the lab, the resemblance to the Kaminoans decanting him in the sterile white walls of his birth world. Boba moves closer to the crib and snarls out “what are you doing to that baby?”

“I protected him, I’ve been protecting him! If it wasn’t for me, he would already be dead!” the scientist pleads. Boba shifts his grip on his raised blaster.

The scientist blurts out “Please just let me go!”

Boba tilts his head menacingly. “Just let you go? Just you? Is this not your child?”

The scientist furrows his brows, “Well, no” and Boba puts a blaster bolt in this thigh. The man falls to the floor, clutching his leg and yelling. “What the kark! What was that for?”

Boba glares down at the cowardly man. He growls out, “I know what men like you do to children. Be grateful I did not kill you. You stole this child.”

Leaving the scientist to desperately clamp his hand over the bleeding blaster wound, Boba lowers his pistol and carefully approaches the crib. The child is a wrinkly green mess, somehow looking so unbelievably old and young at the same time. After getting over his initial shock of disgust, Boba notices the child’s sickly pale color and shallow, uneven breaths. Though this was not the treasure he was searching for, Boba would not leave this child by itself. He grips the metal edges of the crib, deciding what to do next.

Gathering himself again, Boba easily pushes the crib towards the door using the built-in repulsor lifts. After checking the hallway again, which is thankfully empty, he turns back to the scientist.

“Given the poor state of this baby, I’ve changed my mind. Hurting a child is unforgivable,” Boba declares and raises his blaster once more. The child does not even stir at the true ring of the blaster bolt.

#boba fett #the child #my writing #star wars fic #au

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thelordofdarkreunion · 4 years ago

Text

Magnificent Scoundrels- Rock n’ Roll

This one is definitely a little late. Took me a while to write it, and I had to make several changes. It might be a bit awkward in parts, but that is because I have tried to portray each character faithfully and tried to have them do what they would actually do in the battle scenes. As per usual, I own none of these characters except for Thomas Drake. Enjoy! (Side note: I figured out how to use the “read more” so this won’t be as long in the dash!)

In the hangar of the Normandy, Adam Vir and Master Chief waited. The Chief was currently flipping through everyone’s communication channels.

“Do you really trust this guy, Captain?” That was the internal communications of the Enterprise.

“No. And his group of armsmen is putting me on edge. But we control this ship and we have transporters and they don’t.” The rest coming from Kirk’s crew was all military and technological jargon. He flipped to the Apocalypse's internal communications.

“So, the question is: since it’s a fruit, tomato, mixed with sugar, is ketchup a smoothie?” That was Drake. Of course it was.

“Well, by that definition, yes,” said an unfamiliar voice.

“But ketchup has vinegar in it. And if you think smoothies have vinegar, well, then you really need to reevaluate your life’s choices,” replied someone else.

“An excellent point! Indeed, what is a smoothie? Does vinegar belong in your smoothies?” said Drake. Master Chief shook his head and changed channels. He had a feeling that if he listened to that conversation for much longer, his head would implode.

“How did he get that stuff?�� Twenty suits of carapace armor, five crates of hot-shot lasguns, ten crates of normal lasguns, a crate of chainswords, and two power swords, all with Imperial markings!” That was Kasteen, commander of the Valhallans. “And, Cain, what was that thing? An Exitus rifle? I’ve never heard of it.”

“That last one’s the one that worries me. The reason I know of it is because of my work with Inquisitor Vail,” replied Cain.

“Shit. You think he stole it from the Inquisition?”

“The only people who have access to those are Inquisitors and Vindicares.”

“Oh he’s beyond frakked.” The Chief cut the communications as Shepard walked into the hangar bay. He was wearing a full set of black combat armor with a heavy helmet. Vir, the other occupant of the hangar, looked up from where he was fiddling with his own armor.

“Shepard. Pleased to see you.” His one good green eye gleamed from under a shock of blond hair. “Are we ready to go?”

“Give me a sec.” Shepard turned to the hooded and violet masked figure that was present with him at the Scoundrel’s first meeting. “Tali?” he asked the figure. “Are they going to know we’re coming?”

“No, commander.” It was a feminine voice, with a strange and slightly mechanical accent that emanated from the suit. “The engineers aboard the Enterprise and Apocalypse are quite good at what they do. It would be interesting to know what all these new people have! Technology-wise, I mean. The possibilities of-” Shepard cut her off.

“Good to know, Tali.”

“Right. Sorry. Got carried away.”

“If you’d like, I’ll give you a tour of the Apocalypse,” cut in Drake’s suave voice over their earpieces. “That, of course, extends to the rest of you.” Master Chief keyed his comm.

“You’ve been listening to us this whole time?” he asked.

“Well, I can’t talk about vinegar smoothies forever, now, can I? To get more to the point, Cain and I are in position, and Cooper and Quill are on their way. This thing all depends on you, so I suggest you get down here before they notice fifty Imperial Guardsmen and fifteen mercenary armsmen hanging outside their front gate.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going.” They boarded the shuttle, Master Chief having to hunch his massive frame to avoid banging into the doors. The ride to the muddy-brown planet below them was smoot and silent. From the window of the transport, they could see the silhouettes of the teams’ starships above them, gleaming in the weak yellow light of the nearby sun. The atmospheric entry was much smoother than either Vir or Master Chief had ever felt, and the shuttle landed on the planet much faster than they expected. The shuttle’s three occupants disembarked quickly, professionally, and set out in a trot to the distant specter of the military base. They arrived on schedule, and found a small electrical access passage, barely tall enough to squeeze through, exactly where Drake’s map said it was.

Drake checked the timer on his wrist computer. His armsmen and several Imperial Guardsmen cluster around him, waiting expectantly.

“And...nine minutes and twenty-five seconds for Shepard to get his ass in gear and get planetside. If you had more than ten minutes, pay up.” There were grumblings in the crowd, while money and liquor exchanged hands. One of the armsmen looked up.

“Captain, how long for the other timer?” Drake checked his wrist again.

“...nineteen minutes and twenty six...twenty seven seconds since we got here, and they still haven’t noticed over a hundred armed hostiles sitting outside their front gate.” He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Sloppy. If you bet under twenty minutes, you're probably going to be losing something.” He glanced over to where Cain and Jurgen were leaning against the compound’s outer wall. “How are you two holding up?”

Cain looked up from a mug of steaming liquid in his hands. “Fine. These people still haven’t noticed us?” Drake snorted.

“No. I’m really good at what I do, and they’re really bad. Honestly, I’m not quite sure how they managed to steal the thing we’re after in the first place.”

On the other side of the compound, Peter Quill paced.

“What’s taking them so long?” he hissed. Gamora, his green-skinned second in command, looked up from where she was sitting and sharpening a sword.

“Relax. We’re fine.”

“I know…” Quill trailed off, paced more, then turned back. “Do you think that these people know what they’re doing?” Cooper, who had been silently checking his weapons up until this point, spoke.

“Shepard is supposed to be a hero, and a special forces operative, based on Drake’s briefing.” Noticing Quill’s blank look, he gave a very good incredulous stare, considering he had his helmet on. “You didn’t read it?”

“Uh...maybe.” Cooper and Gamora both shook their heads.

“Shepard’s is apparently very good. At least, according to Drake. And the problem with that is we don’t know if Drake is telling the truth about anything.” Quill considered this. He did have a point.

Shepard, Vir, and Master Chief squeezed through the narrow metal electrical duct and into a small, dimly lit concrete room in the basement of the compound. They brushed plaster dust off themselves before looking up. Shepard tapped his wrist and some sort of glowing orange hologram sprang to life, covering his let forearm. The others leaned in and recognized it as Drake’s map of the compound.

“Right. So we are here,” Shepard highlighted the small room. “The item is here.” He traced a path throughout the sun-levels to a large main room in the center of the basement. “We need to stay low and follow this path.” Shepard glanced up and pointed at Master Chief. “You’re a super-soldier, so you’re taking point.” The Chief nodded.

“Copy that.” He unslung his weapon, dropped into a crouch, and proceeded forward, the two others following him. They walked through the concrete and metal halls, weapons at the ready, searching for any sign of life. Despite being over seven feet tall and clad in bulky armor, Master Chief moved with the deadly silence of a professional soldier. Twice they were almost caught, but due to their superior training and skills, they melted into the shadows as enemy patrols passed by. Through more hallways they made their way, hearing the laughter and occasionally fights of mercenaries. The enemy here was no more alert than they were on the main level, allowing the three to pass through the labyrinthian passageways undetected. They reached a large open area, where Master Chief suddenly gestured for a stop. Peering past the Chief’s massive shoulder, Shepard could see why. The open room was littered with mercenaries, lounging around with weapons still holstered. By his estimate, there were about twenty of them. Too many to take on without raising the alarm. Shepard cursed quietly under his breath, then pressed a finger to his ear.

“Drake,” he hissed. “We’re blocked. There’s a group in our way. We need a distraction.”

“Distraction you say?” The three could feel Drake’s smile over the audio. “Give me twenty.”

Outside the Compound

Drake slid up to the compound gate’s outside audio panel. He slid a knife under a small plate at the base of the panel and slid a small rectangular device from his belt into a slot.

“Let’s see here…” he muttered to himself. “Are you stupid enough to connect the PA system to the main computer? Yes...yes you are.” He tapped several buttons on his wrist computer and took a deep breath.

Inside the Compound

Shepard and Vir jumped as Drake’s voice crackled from the building’s PA system.

“Attention assorted idiots. I am Captain Thomas Drake. You may have heard of me. I am here, waiting just outside the front gate. I am going to kill you all and take back the black box. Come and get me.” The message abruptly terminated, and cheery music started playing.

“Private Perks is a funny little coger with a smile, a funny smile. Five feet none he’s an artful little dodger with a smile, a funny smile. Flush or broke he’ll have his little joke…” Shepard, Vir, and even the superhuman Master Chief started at the loudspeaker as the music played.

“Drake, what the hell are you doing?” asked Shepard.

“Creating a distraction,” replied Drake, just as cheerfully as the song.

“Telling the mercenaries to come and kill you and playing Smile, Smile, Smile is not a distraction,” stated Master Chief flatly.

“You sure about that? Look in front of you,” said Drake. Sure enough, the mercenaries occupying the room had grabbed their weapons and were hustling up the stairs to the main level. Shepard’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, then he sighed.

“Fine, let’s go.” As the last of the mercenaries trailed from the room, the three Scoundrels slipped by on their way to the item.

Outside the Facility

Drake glanced at his wrist computer and nodded at a group of armsmen.

“Four guards in the compound beyond the gate. There, there, there, and there.” He gestured at four spots beyond the wall. The armsmen nodded and took positions near the gate. “Overriding and opening the gate in three...two...one go!” Drake pressed a button and the massive armored gate swung open. The armsmen stepped forward and fired. The four mercenary guards pitched forward, dead. Drake nodded at the remaining Guardsmen and armsmen. “Right. Through the gate and set up a firing position. They’ll be coming, probably disorganized, from the main door.” He pointed at a large armored set of double doors that led inside the main facility. The soldiers nodded and readied their weapons. Drake pressed another button on his wrist.

On the other side of the Compound

“Cooper, Quill, this is Drake. The mercenaries are going to attack our position while Shepard, Chief, and Vir steal the thing. Get behind them.”

“Copy that,” replied Cooper with a nod. He looked at the large wall in front of them, then took a step back and jumped. Thrusters on the back of his suit activated and propelled him onto the wall. He turned his head to Quill and Gamora. “You two coming?” Quill scoffed.

“I can do that.” He pressed a small button on the top of his boots, and the heels lit up with the orange wash of jet boosters. Without the grace of Cooper he landed wobbly on the top of the wall. “See? Easy.” Gamora muttered “showoffs” under her breath and accepted Quill’s offered hand to boost her over the wall. Cooper dropped into the interior compound without a sound.

“Right. This way.”

On the Other Side of the Compound

The heavy armored doors opened and mercenaries, in various stages of preparedness, scrambled out, only to be met with the full firepower of one hundred and three well trained soldiers. The Imperials’ lasguns spat crimson death that flickered through the muddy air to impact with chests, legs, arms, and heads, burning away flesh and vaporizing the internal organs of the unprotected. The fire from the Apocalypse’s armsmen was no less lethal. The boom hiss thump of plasma infused ammunition contrasted with the whining crack of lasguns as small blue and purple explosions blew apart the mercenaries. Within seconds, the attacking mercenaries were dead.

“Let’s go!” called Drake as he led his armsmen into the interior. Cain nodded at the Guard.

“Forward. I’ll take up the rear.”

In the Basement

The mercenaries vault, the storage place of the item Drake was contracted to retrieve, stood in silence over the barren concrete room. Harsh yellow lights glared from the walls and seemed to be swallowed by the shadows in the corners. Two guards, weapons held at the ready, stood in front of the vault. The air split with two cracks. The two guards fell, two holes blown through their heads. Master Chief, weapon at the ready, entered the room, searching carefully for any other enemies. There were none. He nodded at his two companions.

“Clear.” He shouldered his rifle. “Now how the hell do we get that door open?” Shepard stepped up to the vault door. A small, rectangular computer was built into the wall. Shepard pressed his forearm, and once more the orange hologram appeared. He tapped the hologram several more times, and the vault door sprang open.

“Impressive,” noted Vir.

“I gotta get me one of those,” muttered Master Chief. They stepped through the circular entrance of the vault, and into the room beyond. The room was...unimpressive. It was cluttered with objects, weapons, and boxes of no discernable value. Master Chief keyed his comm. “Drake? We’re in the vault. What are we looking for?” There was a whine then the boom of a plasma discharge, which culminated into an abrupt, high pitched scream. Drake’s ragged breathing could be heard on the other end of the line.

“What? Sorry. Uh...you’re looking for a black box, about half a meter by half a meter. Should be somewhere pretty prominent.”

“Here it is!” said Vir. He held up a black box of the exact length and width.

“Drake, we have it.” There was a scream and the crackle of Imperial lasgun fire on the other end of the comm. “What is going on up there?”

“We’re fighting the mercenaries…” Boom! Hiss! Crack! “...shit. We appear to be winning at the moment. Get up here and kill or capture anyone who gets in your way.”

“Copy that.” Master Chief looked at Shepard and Vir. “Let’s move.”

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora advanced stealthily through the twisting passages of the mercenaries’ compound, weapons at the ready. For some reason, there was absurdly cheerful music blasting through the PA system. If Cooper had to guess, he would say that Thomas Drake most definitely had a hand in this. He sighed to himself, shaking his head, then abruptly stopped and held out his hand. Gamora instantly stopped and crouched, weapons at the ready. Quill almost ran into him. Ahead of the group were two guards, rifles out, looking more competent than any opposition they’d seen today. Quill raised a gun, but Gamora pushed it down.

“Quiet. If we go loud, they might have time to radio that we’re here.” Quill nodded, magining to look mollified behind the red lenses of his helmet.

“Right. My bad. What do we do?”

“I got this,” replied Cooper. Before either Quill or Gammora could say anything, Cooper tapped a device on his wrist. Immediately, his form shimmered and distorted, turning translucent. He took off running, and both watching pairs of eyes lost track of him. Gammora thought she saw a faint blur of movement at the top of the hall, near the ceiling, but dismissed it as her eyes playing tricks. And, just as they started wondering where Cooper had gone, he appeared just as suddenly and silently as he had appeared, this time directly behind the guards.

Quietly and casually, he stepped behind the first guard, wrapped his arm around the guard’s throat in a chokehold, drew the guard’s sidearm from its holster, and unceremoniously shot both guards through the head. Quick, brutal, efficient. Cooper tossed the pistol aside and hefted his own rifle.

“Let’s keep moving.” Gamora stared at him.

“Impressive. I need one of those things. What are they called?”

“Invisibility Cloak or Pilot’s Cloak. You can get them pretty easily from where I come from. Or you could ask Drake. I’m sure he stole a bunch of them.”

Drake’s plasma gun spat a ball of molten death at an enemy mercenary. It melted through the mercenary’s thin armor, blasted through his bones, and disintegrated his organs. The mercenary only had time for a half scream, half whimper, before his chest was opened all the way through and he dropped to the ground, dead. One of the Imperial Guardsmen whistled appreciatively.

“A real plasma gun. Can’t believe you have one.” Drake grinned beneath his helmet.

“Cost me a pretty penny. But definitely worth it, I can assure you.” His earpiece crackled to life. “Hang on.”

“Drake? Are you behind the music?” asked Quill’s voice.

“Why yes, I am. Do you approve of my selection?” Drake replied.

“Actually, I was wondering...do you take requests?”

“Of course I do! What is your request?”

“Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede,” replied Quill with no hesitation.

“An excellent choice! Give me a moment.” Drake pressed another button on his wrist computer and spoke into it with an excellent approximation of a radio D.J.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that has been Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag and Smile, Smile, Smile, an old favorite from the First World War, written by George Henry Powell. And next up, by listener request, is Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede! If you would like to place a request, even if you’re on the opposing side, please, feel free to contact me.” He cut the transmission. One of the Valhallans turned to her sergeant.

“This guy’s weird.”

“Eh, could be worse. We could be fighting tyranids. Or necrons,” the sergeant interjected with a shudder.

Master Chief turned to look at the nearest PA speaker.

“Well, this is definitely something new.” He turned to his two companions. “You two don’t seem very surprised by this.”

“Honestly, I am not surprised by anything at this point,” Shepard said with a shrug. He turned to look at Vir. “What about you?”

“Happens to me all the time. What’s a battle without some good music?”

Jack Cooper shook his head incredulously as the song piped throughout the compound.

“I have seen a lot over my time in the Militia, but yet I have never been in a battle more bizarre.” He sighed and fired a burst of shots at a mercenary. “Oh, well.”

The Imperial Guard and the Apocalypse’s armsmen, led by Cain and Drake, sliced their way through the enemies ranks like a knife through wet paper. They stood no chance. Anything not eliminated by lasguns or assault rifles was obliterated by Drake’s plasma gun. Drake was leading the charge, cutting down everyone who opposed him with methodical precision. Drake turned, the eye slits of his helmet winking cerulean blue.

“Well, I think we’ve-” He never had a chance to finish, as a particularly large mercenary barreled past a corner and tackled Drake. Squeezed underneath the larger man, Drake could not get enough leverage to shove him off or hit him hard. The two combatants rolled and grappled with each other, the armsmen and Guardsmen daring not to fire for fear of hitting Drake. The large mercenary grimaced and tried to slip his hands under Drake’s helmet to try and throttle him to death. Drake reached up and placed his left hand on the mercenary's chest.

“Overcharge!” he yelled to the air. A sharp whine filled the air, then the crack of discharging electricity. The mercenary flew backwards, twitched spasmodically for several seconds, then lied still. Drake got up to his feet shakily. “Well, that was a...shocking experience.” Several of the soldiers groaned. “C’mon. Forward!” They ran through the maze of dimly-lit hallways, slaughtering anyone they met, until they got to a large room filled with computers overlooking the passageways of the basement. It looked to be a control room of some sorts, and it was absolutely packed with enemies. They seemed to realize the superiority of the Scoundrel’s firepower, and so, instead of trying to fight them bullet to bullet, they charged.

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora rounded the corner of the hallway at a run. The screeched to a stop when they saw what was happening in the large room in front of them. A massive group of enemy mercenaries were battling it out, hand to hand, with Drake and Cain’s forces.

“Well, we can’t shoot for fear of hitting our own side, so…” Quill trailed off.

“So we take them from behind,” replied Cooper. “You two know how to fight hand to hand?” In response, Gamora drew a sword.

“Well, I guess that’s a yes,” said Cooper. He looked over to see a heavily muscled woman bodily pick up and throw Drake through one of the glass panes overlooking the basement. “Oh boy. Better get in there.” They charged.

Vir, Shepard, and Master Chief emerged from the basement’s tunnels and into a pit-like room overlooked by glass panels. Suddenly, one of the panels shattered and Drake flew through and landed on the concrete floor fifteen feet below. He groaned and slowly got to his feet.

“Oh hey there. Fancy meeting you here.” Master Chief held out a hand to steady him.

“Are you alright?” Drake cracked his neck.

“Maybe. Hopefully. Doesn’t much matter. Let's get up there.”

“If you’re really O.K.”

“Yep, I’m good. What’s the fastest way up?” Shepard pointed to a set of stairs, but before he could say anything, Master Chief took a running leap, grabbed the broken window’s ledge, and hauled himself up.

“Or...or that will work.” Vir shrugged and made the same running jump at the same window. With a whir of powerful prosthetics, he made it in much the same way Master Chief had. Not to be outdone, Drake jumped for the same window. He only made it halfway up the wall, but grips built into his forearms and greaves took over and he hauled himself up. Shepard still stood at the bottom and shook his head.

“Ok then. I guess I’ll just take the stairs.”

The vast majority of the wild melee was focused near the middle of the room. There, the mercenaries desperately fought against the soldiers of the Imperial Guard. The mercenaries had thought to take the enemy off balance by charging them, a tactic seldom used in an age of automatic and plasma weaponry, but had not counted on soldiers of other universes, used to fighting in different ways. The Guardsmen had fixed bayonets, and now wielded the twenty inch blades with lethal efficiency. However, despite the Guard doing most of the fighting, it was by far the Scoundrel captains who garnered the most attention. Each fought with their own style, was a death-dealing whirlwind.

Master Chief fought with a precision that only a genetically enhanced super-soldier could. A strange, teardrop-shaped plasma sword was held aloft in one hand, and he brought it down with murderous exactness. Each stroke was backed by the massive strength of his seven foot frame, and gut through armor and bone as if it didn’t exist. He was a one man killing machine; he was a SPARTAN super-warrior. None stood in his way for long.

Ciaphas Cain used the same practical and lethal fighting style as he did in his duel with the Drev. His chainsword hummed and its teeth whirred as it cut through muscle and sinew, raising great gouts of blood into the air. In his other hand he held a laspistol, which cracked off shots at any who were beyond the reach of the deadly teeth of his sword.

Jack Cooper fought with grace and style. He danced around the enemy, using the extra speed and mobility of his Pilot’s suit. His combat knife slid between ribs and through throats, and shots from his sidearm rang out, blowing ragged holes through heads and torsos. His legs lashed out in the form of powerful kicks, still with a Pilot's grace, and landed on kidneys and knees, knocking his opponents to the ground where he finished them at his leisure.

Adam Vir fought with a spear, a most unusual weapon of choice. Nevertheless, he was just as deadly as the rest. The spear sand through the air, catching and impaling his foes. It twirled in intricate patterns, and blocked and flicked aside incoming attacks as if they didn’t exist. He lunged forward towards a panacing mercenary, twisting the spear at the last second so as not to get it stuck in the suction of flesh, then spun around to block an incoming attack.

Thomas Drake fought dirty. No trick was too low or underhanded. His left hand crackled with electricity, stunning and killing any he punched. A keen-bladed knife was in his right, and he stabbed groins, gouged eyes, and slit throats with impunity. He bellowed reactive insults while he fought, calling in to question his opponent’s lineage and stature as he charged and hacked and stabbed.

And Quill...well...he entered the room at a run, then promptly slipped on a puddle of blood and fell face first into the cold concrete floor.

The Scoundrels gradually whittled down their enemies, one by one, until there was only a small group, fear in their eyes, huddling against the back wall. The Scoundrels advanced, weapons drawn, and the mercenaries raised their own, prepared for one last defiant gesture. Then, the air shimmered and distorted, and Kirk and a group of Enterprise crewmen, weapons drawn, appeared as if from nowhere.

“Hands up,” said Kirk with probably more amusement than was really necessary. Slowly, the mercenaries lowered their weapons and put them on the ground. The Scoundrels looked at each other for a moment before Cooper broke the silence.

“Okay. That was...underwhelming.”

“What do we do with them?” asked Shepard, gesturing towards the prisoners.

“Eh. I say we just leave ‘em here,” said Drake with a shrug. The others stared at him with incredulity.

“Wait, wait...you were the one advocating orbital bombardment earlier!”

“Well, we have the thing now. No need to kill them, no need to do anything with them really. We can just pack up and go. Leave them here.” The Scoundrels looked at each other and seemed to reach an agreement.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Kirk looked over to Spock and spoke to him in an undertone.

“You know, this didn’t end that badly. None of the redshirts died!” As if on cue, one of the Enterprise’s crewmen, clad in black pants and a red shirt, fell over clutching his chest. One of the Imperial Guardsmen knelt down to check on him.

“He’s dead, sir! I think a heart attack.” Kirk shook his head.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

After the mercenaries had been herded in the basement and the Scoundrels’ forces were trailing out of the compound, Cain pulled Drake aside.

“Drake, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” Cain looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“Those weapons. The only way you could have gotten several of them was if you stole them from the Inquisition.”

“And if I did?” replied Drake.

“The Inquisition is not an organization you want to steal from.” Cain loosened his chainsword in its scabbard. Drake smiled.

“Funny, actually. I can. You see, those weapons I found in a small hidden stash. Apparently, a rogue and very dead Inquisitor named Filidarus Calzik had hidden them on the very edge of Imperial space. No one would have ever gone for them, no Imperial would have ever found them.”

“I know of them, now that you’ve told me,” replied Cain, his hands still on his weapons. Drake laughed, the exact same laugh as when he told the Scoundrels he knew their secrets aboard the Apocalypse.

“Interestingly enough, weapons were not the only thing I found in that stash. There was also a computer. Which is why I know Calzik’s name. And, on that computer, was...an incomplete manuscript. An...autobiography.” Drake smiled again. “Your autobiography, my dear Cain.” Cain turned a shade of chalk white. “Now, consider, if you will, my dear Cain, the fascinating consequences if the contents of that autobiography were to be released to the wider Imperium. So, yes, I’m quite sure I can get away with stealing from the Inquisition. Because, no one will ever know anything is missing. And if they do, they’ll never know it was me, because everyone who knows it was me will not be saying anything about it, now will they?” With a final parting smile, Drake spun on his heel and strode away, leaving Cain in the semi-darkness of the compound’s hallway.

That’s it. Hope you like it. As per always, feel free to contact me with any complaints, concerns, compliments, questions, requests, or if you just want something cleared up.

#magnificent scoundrels #warhammer 40k #empyrean iris #halo #mass effect #star trek #titanfall 2 #guardians of the galaxy #crossover #story

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years ago

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Charred Briar Roses - 6

Botched Plans

Summary: The Resistance made plans and things go south. Will all be lost?

Parings: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 1,211

Warning: Graphic Violence and Implied Sexual Assault. You have been warned.

A/N: Reader is an idiot in this. Don’t hate me. 🙃

Back to Masterlist

“Get the schematics, destroy the comms link, and get out,” you mentally repeated as you made your way through Eckrednst’s ancient underground passageways. Oluchi tasked you with securing, copying, and destroying the schematics for Sophronius’ latest weapon. The rest of the group would take out the guards, steal weapons and loot, and possibly capture the highest ranking officer.

Everything was going to plan when you came across a room with a hexagonal shape and design. In the middle of the room was a marble pedestal with an open book on it. Yet again, your curiosity got the better of you and you peeked at the pages.

It was your mother’s journal!

It read,

“Dear Diary,

I finally met my betrothed, Haidar, and he was so nice and funny. He actually cared about my interests and he made me feel at peace. Haidar is everything I ever asked for in a husband!

Not long after I met Haidar, he introduced me to his brother, Sophronius. At first, he seemed charming (also, he was quite handsome, but not as much as Haidar). Then as time went on, his eyes started to go dark and he asked me what I thought of Haidar. I told him that he’s everything that I wanted in a husband. He gave me a sardonic smirk and replied with ‘If you want to marry such a weak man, be my guest.” With that he turned and left.

I wondered what he meant by that and why do I have the need to scrub my skin of him?

Until Next Time,

Ungonma”

Desperate to know what happened with your mother and uncle you turn the next couple of pages.

“Dear Diary,

My hands shakes as I write to you. I fear for my life as the life my father SOLD me to is a lie. The Nephrashim Empire was bought with the blood and souls of millions and my father just gave me up to save his craven self!

Some refugees from the now destroyed Fingord civilization have asked me to help them take down Nephrashim. I want to help the refugees get some closure, but I don’t know how to proceed.

I still love Haidar and I’ve been able to get him to reverse many of the devastating policies of his ancestors, but some underground groups feel that he’s not moving fast enough. At least, that what I hear from the chambermaids.

My time has been made worse when Sophronius-”

“What are you doing?!” Ghada hissed, “You were supposed to be in the lab 15 minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry! I just…” You started.

“Then why did you-” Fumnanya demanded as the heavy doors began to close. Your sisters were able to push you out in the nick of time.

“Go! We’ll join you later!” Ghada shouted and you ran to the lab hoping the plan was still feasible.

––––––––

The plan went to shit.

Demon-enhanced guards were taking out resistance members left and right after they were alerted by the doors slamming shut. They tried fighting back with the new weapons you made, but it wasn’t looking good.

You found Bucky, Oluchi, and Chetachi in the main courtyard getting attacked by mutilated orcs and elves. You rushed through the courtyard, trying to reach your match, when a hellhound tried to maul you. Bucky turned to help you but he failed to see the mutilated orc he was fighting grab their rusty ax and sliced his left arm right off.

You ran over him with tears streaming down your face when a horn disrupted your focus. Everyone turned to the central balcony to see what looked to be a high-ranking officer of Sophronius’ horde with Chetachi, Olanma, and one of the younger resistance members (around 14yrs).

“This pitiful excuse of a war is over!,” the man bellowed as the resistance members were forced to the balcony ledge, “and these three will feel the futility of it!” He brutally decapitated them and their heads fell with a sickening crunch/thud.

Olanma’s head tumbled over to your feet and you fell to your knees. You screamed and a bright pink light enveloped the courtyard for two minutes. When the light faded, all of the enemy combatants were turned to ash and fading embers.

“Capture her!,” the officer barked. A few members of the horde sprinted towards you and Bucky but were dashed by a tall man in a pitch-black cloak, lightweight armor, and somewhat ornate mask appearing out of thin air. The masked man grabbed the two of you and disappeared through an abyss of a shadow swallowing you.

–––––––

Ghada and Fumnanya slowly woke up to find themselves chained to an emperor-sized with two men (possibly in their mid 20s) leering at them.

Fumnanya started to scream but was cruelly backhanded by one of them, “Silence harlot!!”

The door opened to reveal Sophronius in all his heinous smug glory. “My, my, my! How beautiful you’ve become. I knew that you would be dazzling, but what a sight.” he remarked as he stroked Ghada’s cheek with a frightening tenderness.

“Why would you need us? You already control most of the continent!” Fumnanya protested.

Sophronius snapped his head in her direction, “I DON’T have control, at least not yet. All I need is the Nephrashim Crystal. Turns out the meddling cunts of the Fae cursed me to burn if I touched the crystal.”

“Sucks to be you, but you didn’t answer my question. Why do you need us?” Fumnanya interrupted while scanning the room for anything she and Ghada could use to escape.

Sophronius glowered, “I need you because I made a deal with the demon lord on your 18th birthday. I would get his demon horde and sublime demon powers in exchange for you three to be mated to his sons. Two of whom you see to my right.” He motioned to the two men who were in the room. They licked their lips and eyes glowed scarlet as they ogled the girls.

“Now remember, you cannot take them until we find the last one and complete the mating ritual. But, that doesn’t mean you can get...acquainted.”

The girls hugged each other and shrunk into the bed in fear.

Sophronius scoffed, “Stop your whining! Your father would sold you off the moment decorations of your 18th birthday was cleared. At least I had the decency to let you live and love. Then again, that might have been more diabolical of me wouldn’t it? Oh well. Off to find your sister and claim my rightful place as absolute ruler. Have fun boys!”

His face was filled with a demonic glee and he almost skipped out of the bedroom leaving the former princesses at the mercy of two demons that would’ve raped them if Sophronius gave his ‘blessing’.

“We have to get out of here!,” the girls thought at the same time.

––––––––

You woke up to your head pounding and a slightly sprained wrist and found yourself in a cave with glowing aqua green and blue crystals and a clear pond with a weeping willow island in the middle of it.

“You’re awake. Good.”

You turned your head and saw the man who saved you and your beloved remove his mask to reveal Karim, Sophronius’ son and heir.

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano @lookiamtrying @retroxvailles @hurricanerin @saiyanprincessswanie @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @pseudonymphet @rosalynshields @imdarkinme @macheregrace @anyatheladyclown @marvelfansworld @mcudarklibrary @moonstruckbucky

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grayseekerswritinglife · 4 years ago

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Tricks & Treats 4/5

Chapter Four: Electromagnet

The throbbing grew worse over the next few hours as the Autobots repeatedly questioned Starscream and his Trine about the gold. Optimus Prime and his lackeys seemed convinced that Megatron wanted the gold for some undisclosed, but surely dire purpose. Oddly, and despite Skywarp’s obvious gluttony, none of them seemed to guess that the purpose might be culinary. Starscream refused to say anything. He hoped Skywarp and Thundercracker had the sense to do likewise, but he had no way of knowing since the Autobots had been smart enough to question them separately, in shielded detention cells that prevented them from using their comms to confer with one another or call for help. He had to hand it to the Autobots; they were learning.

Eventually his cell door opened and his two Trinemates stumbled in, shoved by a pair of Dinobots. Starscream lunged for the door, but it slammed shut. The two colossal lizards, who seemed to take their role as guards with utmost seriousness, eyed him with a smug air before they sauntered off down the passageway, tails swinging in time with their heavy, ponderous strides. Starscream glared after them.

“Why are they putting us together?” he demanded.

“I dunno, why wouldn’t they?” Thundercracker stumbled as Skywarp lurched against him, groaning. “Come on Screamer, gimme a hand, will ya?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Starscream muttered, seizing Skywarp’s other arm. He nearly let go again when a feverish heat imprinted itself on his palms. "He’s burning up!”

“Yup,” Thundercracker agreed. “Got the gold-sweats.”

“Frag it to the Pit, Skywarp! How much of that slag did you eat?”

“Trick-or-treat, trick-or-treat,” Skywarp chanted, “trick-or-treat we say! If you don’t have treats for us, we’ll never go awaaaa—ay!”

“C’mon, Warp,” Thundercracker urged. “Just a few more steps.” They shuffled forward, but Skywarp tripped, his foot striking sparks from the edge of one of the floor-tiles. He lost his balance and plowed face-first into the wall where he remained for several moments before sliding to his knees.

“Hmmm, coooool,” Skywarp purred, rubbing his cheek against the metal bulkhead. “Niiiice.”

“I suppose that answers my question,” Starscream muttered, running a finger beneath the edge of Skywarp’s bowed helm. His digit came away with a thin golden sheen. Starscream sighed. “Actually, I guess it answers all my questions. They couldn’t get anything useful out of Skywarp in his current state, so they’re hoping that by putting the three of us together, we’ll talk about something more informative.”

“Well, they’ll be waiting a while,” Thundercracker said as he sank down beside Skywarp, looping an arm around him and pulling him away from the wall. Skywarp curled into his side, shivering and moaning softly.

“Belly hurts,” Skywarp complained.

“I’ll bet,” Starscream said unsympathetically. “Serves you right.”

“An’ they took my treats away,” Skywarp continued, his tone mournful. “Even what I had in my subspace.”

“They searched your subspace?” Starscream wasn’t surprised. The Autobots had searched his subspace too, but Starscream kept anything useful or potentially interesting in a secret partition within his subspace, one which only the most experienced hacker could have hoped to access. He knew they’d find it eventually, but he was hoping to be out of here before it came to that. Not that things were looking especially hopeful right now.

“Too bad they couldn’t take what’s in your belly,” Thundercracker murmured. Skywarp burrowed into him with an anguished groan, and Thundercracker drew him closer, raising a hand to stroke one of his intakes. “Dumb-aft.”

Starscream snorted. “He’ll be lucky if he gets out of this with nothing worse than a case of the sweats.”

Thundercracker grunted in agreement.

Starscream prowled to the door and peered out through the bars, scowling at the empty corridor. There were several detention cells in the Autobot brig, but all the others stood empty. As one might expect, Starscream supposed. The blast-doors at the end of the hall were sealed with a heavy locking mechanism which Starscream could have made quick work of, if only he’d had his null-ray. Sadly, he did not. The Autobots had confiscated his rifles, along with all their other weapons, and they had not neglected to remove his null-ray’s master power-relay. Without it, the weapon was useless.

Of course, getting past that door would only land them face-to-snout with several huge, highly zealous robo-lizards. Starscream didn’t like their odds against the Dinobots even at the best of times, and he and his Trinemates were hardly at their best today. He sagged against the wall, careful not to touch the bars, and glared. Mostly at Skywarp, but occasionally also at the door at the end of the passage.

Perhaps he dozed. He’d been known to fall into a stupor that resembled sleep when he was trying to work out a problem. In the far distant past, there’d been someone to rouse him from that state. Someone with large, warm hands, who would take him by the shoulders and gently guide him to the nearest chair. Or, better yet, would effortlessly carry him to a berth that smelled of rain-clouds and spent passion and—

A loud, metallic ‘thunk’ jolted Starscream from his reverie. He peered down the length of the corridor to where the blast-doors had cycled open, and had to re-set his optics several times. He’d been half in a dream, a dream which had taken his thoughts down familiar and dangerous pathways, and now the embodiment of that dream was walking toward him, large as life. So large, in fact, that he’d had to angle his massive wings so that their tips would not scrape against the ceiling. His large, presumably warm hands were holding a tray upon which rested three small energon cubes. The one in the middle glowed a slightly purple shade, while the other two were blue.

The towering figure paused before their cell and crouched, just slightly, to insert the tray into a receptacle in the wall beside the door. There was a soft hum, as if the contents of the tray were being scanned. Starscream suspected that was exactly what was happening. Finally, a small door slid open on his side of the wall, and he was able to remove the energon cubes before the tray retracted again.

“I see they’ve got you on rations duty,” Starscream remarked acidly. “An excellent use of your intellect. You certainly picked the right side, Skyfire.”

“I asked for this duty,” Skyfire countered with a smile. “The purple cube is for Skywarp. It contains a medication which should ease his discomfort.”

“Or kill him,” Starscream shot back. “How do I know these aren’t poisoned?”

“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust that our side of the war doesn’t operate that way.”

“And what would you know about how your side operates? You’ve only been in the war for—what, two Earth years?”

“About that,” Skyfire replied with an affable shrug. His gaze was warm; dangerously so, and that soft, clean rain-smell was wafting through the bars. Starscream caught himself leaning forward, flooding his senses with it. “You should be careful,” Skyfire added, pitching his voice to an intimate rumble intended for Starscream’s audials alone. “These bars are magnetized, you see. Electro-magnetized.”

He turned and strode away, humming. Starscream stared after him until he disappeared through the doors, then shook himself. The bars, while energized with a field that would shock anyone foolish enough to touch them, were not electro-magnetized. If they had been, he—and his Trinemates, and the Dinobots—would be stuck to them. Which meant that it was code for something. Something Starscream would find hidden in plain sight, just like the electromagnet he’d once stashed aboard an oil platform so that Skyfire could escape the Decepticons.

Starscream swept his gaze over the stark, featureless walls of their prison, then settled, finally, on a floor-tile. A floor-tile which sat ever so slightly askew within its housing. A floor-tile Skywarp had tripped over.

“Thundercracker!” Starscream lobbed the purple energon cube at his Trinemate, who caught it deftly. “Make him drink that.”

“But—”

“I don’t care if you have to force it down his throat; just do it.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s poison?”

“It’s not!”

“How do you know?”

“I just—” Starscream broke off as the lights went out. All of them. An alarm wailed in the distance as water began pouring from the ceiling. There was a shout from the far end of the corridor, followed by an animalistic bellow which could only have come from one of the Dinobots. Starscream dove at the loose floor tile, scrabbling with his fingers until it came loose. When he pried it up, his hand closed around a familiar object. The master power-relay for his null-ray. Within seconds, he’d snapped it into his cockpit canopy where it belonged, and applied a hefty dose of null-ray to the mechanism that was holding their cage shut.

The bars hissed open. He seized Skywarp's arm, hauling him up with his full strength. Thundercracker was helping from the other side, and even Skywarp seemed somewhat cooperative. Whether that meant he’d drunk the energon concoction or his survival instincts were simply kicking in was a matter for debate, but Starscream didn’t have time to worry about that. He kicked the floor-tile back into place as he and his Trinemates dashed into the corridor—and straight into the path of a charging brontosaurus.

“Me Sludge stop Decepticons!” she roared, bearing down on them at terrifying speed. “Stomp Decepticons flat!”

“Oh frag,” Starscream muttered, priming his null-ray. This was about to become the briefest escape ever attempted. His weapon might slow the Dinobot, but there was no chance of stopping her. She was literally going to stomp them flat. But then Skywarp was suddenly in front of him, holding something in one hand. Something that glowed bright orange. It inflated and became… a pumpkin. An energon pumpkin. Skywarp, ever the craftsmech where it came to pranks, had even taken the time to give it a silly-looking face with grinning jaws and glowing yellow eyes. It was among the more ridiculous things Starscream had ever seen, but Sludge froze, staring at the object as Skywarp bounced it on his palm—once, then twice, and then lobbed it at her. The gourd exploded, covering her face with sticky orange resin. She roared, shaking her head to dislodge the stuff, and Thundercracker grabbed Starscream’s wrist.

“C’mon,” he said.

They dodged past Sludge and rushed for the doors.

~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: A friend of mine heacanons all the Dinobots (with the exception of Grimlock) as female, and for some reason that idea worked its way into my brain. My Sludge has taken it on wholeheartedly, and seems much happier with female pronouns. Who am I to argue with a giant, stampeding robo-lizard?

This was written for @darkstarofchaos for the @transform-or-treat Halloween gift exchange. There are five chapters of it in all, and I will be posting a chapter a day until Halloween! Many, many thanks to @justawayninja or being my awesome beta. Your suggestions helped me get the story to the next level.

#transform or treat 2020 #transform-or-treat #darkstarofchaos #transformers #maccadam #halloween #starscream #skywarp #thundercracker #skyfire #humor #hijinks #pranks #secret relationship #trine dynamics #team as family

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unsteadygalaxy · 4 years ago

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all is soft inside chapter 4

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/64695070

previous | next

4. running with the wolves

Mirage picks up an R-301 and lets out a huge sigh of relief. He quickly removes every attachment from his Alternator and swaps it over to the new gun, and dumps the old one on the floor. Good riddance, he thinks. He hates the Alternator. It feels too choppy and unpredictable in his hands. The smoothness of the R-301 made it a favorite weapon of his. He holsters it, picks up a stray box of heavy ammo, and loads that into his Wingman. “Hey kids,” he says to the comms piece in his ear. “If you see a good old Skullpiercer anywhere, let me know.”

He was doing surprisingly well today. I guess ‘well’ is a relative term, he thinks. At least we weren’t first blood again. The teams list this morning made him dread his very existence. Today Mirage is teamed up with Caustic and Crypto. Crypto he could handle, but Caustic? God, he hated that guy. Nox was so snide and rude to everyone around him. His attitude was as toxic as his experiments, and Mirage couldn’t stand being around him.

“Skullpiercer here,” Caustic announces.

Ugh. Gross, Mirage thinks. “Hey, thanks buddy! I’ll grab that.” He trots down the stairs and makes his way over to the next building to pick up the attachment. Caustic is behind the counter, setting a trap in the corner by the door. Crypto is crouched over in the storage room, observing his drone through a holographic screen.

“Two squads in my drone range,” Crypto calls. “We should make our way over the hill to Fragment East. We need to go now so we don’t get pinched.”

“No,” Caustic disputes. “We can lie in wait for them here. I believe all our Ultimates are charged, yes?”

“Yes, but we need to beat them up the hill,” Crypto replies. “If we do not take the position now, we will be overrun.

“Are you afraid, Crypto?” Caustic sneers. “It seems that you feel threatened, do you not?”

“Maybe it is you who should be afraid, Nox,” Crypto says, a hint of venom in his voice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, kids!” Mirage says nervously. “Let’s break up the catfight! Listen, Caustic, Crypto is right. We’ve got to take the choke point before anyone else does.”

“Suit yourself,” Caustic responds. He staunchly ignores the two of them and moves to the other door to set the next trap.

Mirage sighs. Dammit, he thinks. These two are insufferable. “Come on, Crypto, let’s leave Mr. Gas Man alone to do his dirty work.” He attaches the Skullpiercer to his Wingman, jogs out of the room, and begins to head up the hill.

“Fine, old man.” Crypto follows suit, skirting around the buildings and sticking to the mountainside.

“Old man?” Mirage shouts, annoyed. They ascend the hill swiftly. “Come on kid, you’ve gotta let that slide! You’ve been calling me that ever since-”

kzzzhhhCRACK!

The sound of a fully charged Sentinel rips through the air, and the accompanying bullet hits Crypto squarely in the chest. He yells something in Korean that Mirage doesn’t understand, and scrambles up the ledges underneath the giant overhang.

kzzzhhhCRACK! Another charged bullet flies directly in front of Mirage’s nose, missing him narrowly. “DAMMIT!” he yells. He releases all of his clones, hoping to distract the other team for just long enough to join Crypto on the ledge. The echoes of you got bamboozled! smack against the canyon walls, multiplying until it puts a ring in Elliott’s ears. He rushes up the ledges and crouches, trying to take aim with his Wingman.

Bloodhound, Wattson, and Octane speed up the hill with inhuman swiftness, pursuing Mirage and Crypto relentlessly. Mirage takes aim at Wattson with his Wingman and fires. His hands are shaking from the escape, and he misses the first three. The next two hit her in the shoulder and stomach respectively, and her shields sputter, but hold. Crypto fires his G7 at Octane, but Mirage is too distracted to see whether or not he lands his shots.

“Caustic!” he calls, swapping to his R-301. “These guys are feeling ag- agn- aggre- FEISTY today, so I’m gonna try and draw them down to the city. You come up behind and cut off their retreat!”

“Understood,” the trapper responds.

Uh… did he just agree with me? “Wow, okay, great! I’ll see-”

“Move, you imbecile!”

“Uh- right!” Mirage quickly fires a clip of his AR at Wattson, then dashes down the hill towards Fragment. He tosses a decoy to the side, hoping to throw off his pursuers once more. Crypto tosses his drone into the air, and positions it in a perfect spot to detect any enemies coming up the hill. He follows Mirage, taking shots at Octane with his Prowler as he goes. He backs up and hides behind a small outcropping of rock just as Mirage makes it to the halfway point.

An otherworldly roar splits the air.

Mirage slides behind a large shipping crate, and tries to see what the hell is going on. Crypto’s drone indicates two hostiles, further up the hill, but the third is nowhere to be seen. Where…? Caustic’s gas canister arcs far above all their heads, and explodes upon impact, cloaking them all in a green mist. Just as Crypto begins to activate his EMP, his drone is shot down, and the indicators disappear. The steady beating of bullets rings in Mirage’s ears, and he calls out to his team. “What’s going on? I thought you guys were gonna choke them!”

“Shut up!” Crypto yells in frustration. “You abandoned us!”

A cold feeling grips Elliott’s chest, and he stops in his tracks, breathing hard. “Look, it’s not my fault you guys are completely incompetent-”

A pair of glowing, red eyes emerges from the toxic mist, and the words in Elliott’s mouth fizzle out and die. Bloodhound swipes the gas away, and sprints down the hill, low to the ground, surrounded by an electric red energy that makes Elliott’s eyes water. Even from where Elliott is, he can hear how hard Bloodhound is breathing. They flip a small, lethal looking axe in their hand as they run, and Elliott is scared for his life. He’s seen Bloodhound while they were Ulting before, but never like this. He’s rarely ever been on the receiving end.

Bloodhound is a beast of deadly precision, flying down the hill as smoothly and imperceptibly as their raven companion would. It seems like lightning strikes with every step, and Elliott just gazes at them, absolutely dumbfounded. They’re a magnificent creature, exuding pure power and dignity and strength. Too late, he realizes that he should, in fact, be getting ready to shoot at them. That familiar feeling in his stomach clenches both pleasantly and unpleasantly, and he takes aim with his Wingman.

The first shot misses completely, but part of Elliott doesn’t even care. Part of him just wants to watch Bloodhound and nothing else. You dumbass! Why are you so useless? Stop freaking out like a six year old girl and SHOOT! He shakes his head, and takes aim once more. The next three shots land perfectly on Bloodhound’s head and chest, putting a sizable amount of damage into their red shield. Bloodhound swiftly pulls out an R-99 and fires at Elliott’s head and chest, ripping through his purple shield with ease. Dammit! Elliott dives back behind the storage crate and throws out a decoy, taking the brief moment he has to reload both of his weapons. His breathing is ragged, heavy, and it almost keeps him from hearing what’s going on.

Elliott darts out from his hiding space, taking aim at Bloodhound’s head with his Carbine. Except… Bloodhound isn’t there. He turns around, and immediately gets shot in the chest with their R-99. Elliott falls to the ground, bleeding and gasping, and his head hits the dirt, hard. His vision spins, and bile rises to his throat. Bloodhound stands above him, still crackling with electric energy, breathing hard. They reach in their pockets for something shiny and silver. The ringing in Elliott’s ears reaches a deadly pitch, and he hears something he vaguely recognizes.

“Fyrirgefðu mér.”

Bloodhound’s axe embeds itself into Elliott’s helmet, and everything goes dark.

#apex legends #miragehound #mirage apex #bloodhound apex #mirage apex legends #bloodhound apex legends #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #my writing #apex #apex legends fanfiction

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sicprowl · 5 years ago

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The Fell-Star

Next AO3

Sigh.

He was so bored. So, so bored.

The red head leaned back in his seat, wiggling the pen between his lip and nose while he dazed lazily up at the ceiling.

Siiiiiiiigh.

“Sylvain,” Ingrid tensed beside him, but her fingers continued to glide across the screen of her navigation system as various symbols lit up on the screen in an array of colors. “Can you please stop that?”

The communications expert paused a moment, giving his childhood companion a side eye before looking back up at the ceiling.

Groooooan.

“What?” He laughed and took the pen off his lip to wave it at her, “It’s not the same thing~.”

She wanted to pull her hair out, long braid and all, then strangle him with it. “Why don’t you go do something productive?!”

“Like what?” Sylvain gestured around the empty command deck, “There’s nothing to do.”

Ingrid went back to piloting, tick mark pulsing on her forehead. “You’re supposed to be doing your job.”

“Right, my job…”

Sylvain frowned and put the pen back between his nose and lip. One glance at his terminal showed nothing but a blank map; black, lifeless, boring.

He’d gone to the Officers Academy for *this?* To sit at some desk and listening out into the void, waiting for someone to say hello. The red head had thought he’d hear some juicy gossip, get paid to chat people up, and maybe even answer distress calls to isolated colonies of beautiful women.

Instead all he got was the latter. Minus the isolated colony of beautiful women.

Sylvain gave Ingrid a pout, “My job sucks.”

Ingrid wished his seat was closer just so she could smack him. “Then why didn’t you study something else?!”

“Meh,” he shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “This seemed the easiest.”

She was getting a migraine, “Can you just….Just go bother someone else? I can watch everything here.”

Like always.

“They’re all busy.”

Ingrid huffed while focusing on her console again. “That never stopped you before. Felix isn’t on duty - I’m sure he could use some company.”

Sylvain deflated and the pen dropped to his lap. “He’s in the armory having a mood.”

Ingrid looked at him questioningly, but he didn’t elaborate. He merely waved his hand and spun slowly in his chair. She squinted at him as he stared at his lap.

“What did you do this time?”

He jerked, “It wasn’t me!!”

The doors to the command deck opened and they both looked to see three members of the crew walk in.

Ingrid stood immediately in a salute, gazing at their Captain with stern obedience that was beat into them throughout their Academy days. “My Lord!”

Sylvain was slower to stand, not really liking the formalities of it all. They were all former classmates, most even childhood friends and confidents. Heck, they’ve spent FIVE YEARS running and gunning Empire ships! Surely that meant they could relax in their off time?

He glanced at his friend’s Captain’s face, avoiding the eye patch that covered the ghastly scar from a battle long since forgotten. The heavy bags laid under his eyes as a constant reminder that the man never seemed to sleep and always seemed to be ready to strike. His blonde hair looked unkempt and long as it curled slightly at his collar. His black armor was worn from desperate battle after desperate battle while a long blue cloak with snow lion pelt at the collar. It all made him look like a towering giant; broad, powerful, deadly.

Then there was that lance.

Sylvain gulped, noting the emblem in the middle of the blade cackled like blue lightning. Thankfully it was merely flickers and not the thunderous storm that seemed to erupt from his old friend during battle. But Sylvain didn’t need the lance to tell him that the blonde was aching for battle. The bloodlust in his icy-blue eye was enough of a giveaway.

The red head looked away, unable to handle to see the once calm, and friendly boy of his youth turn into this. Sylvain focused on Annette instead, the cute and cheerful scientist of the group.

“What’s up?”

The small girl jerked in surprise, feeling as if she were back in school and the teacher had called on her.

“Oh! Ashe and I were calibrating the engine when we caught a strange signal on our computers!”

Panic settled on Sylvain’s face as he looked at his screen to see one, lone blinking red light right in the middle of his screen.

Oops.

“Oh!” Sylvain laughed nervously as all turned to him, “Sorry about that.”

Ingrid groaned while Dedue gave him a look of disapproval.

Dimitri ignored them all as he walked over to his chair, his heavily armored boots making the floor vibrate beneath all their feet. He plopped down in his chair, his whole body taking over the spot like a predator staking it’s claim.

“Show it to me.”

The red head didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back down and zeroed in on the signal, fingers dashing across the keys with ease as he turned on the flight screens for everyone.

Annette gasped in awe as the black, white, and blue panels covering the front half of the command deck’s ceiling changed into a vast expanse of stars. They twinkled like fire flies in streams as a lone nebula laid light years away. It shined bright in an aurora of periwinkle greens and cobalt blues, reaching out like in large wings that could easily dwarf a Faerghus warship.

It was breathtaking.

Dimitri gripped his lance as the screen zoomed in on a flying ship that zipped across the stars like a comet. His gaze narrowed as he raked it over the hull of the spaceship, then gave a sharp tooth grin when he found the symbol he so desperately hated.

The emblem in his lance began to spark and Dedue was immediately at his side, ready for orders. He was Dimitri’s second in command on this ship and closest confidant. The large man was ever loyal to the lost Prince of Faerghus and has been after he saved him from the Purge of Duscar.

He was his everything the moment Dimitri pulled him from the rubble.

“Sire?”

The blonde chuckled, making Sylvain’s hair practically stand on end. “It’s time to hunt some rats.”

>>>>>

Felix’s upper lip snarled in distaste at the litter of corpses that laid in the narrow hallway, blood splattered over the floor and ceiling like it was a morbid painting. Most of the bodies had been gouged out with a blade while a few were headless or worse… He always looked away from the worst.

“What a disgusting brute.”

Sylvain didn’t respond as he checked one of the bodies for ammo, putting the ethics of it all in the back of his mind. He’d unpack this all later. Right now, he needed to make sure they were prepared. Felix may have his family shield with him, but that thing couldn’t protect the both of them. Not unless they wanted to straddle each other.

The red head felt the corner of his lip turn up at the idea, knowing it’d annoy the hell out of his prickly friend.

He stood and touched the comm in his ear, “All clear on the lower deck.”

”I don’t see anyone in the barracks.” Ashe responded, having gone with Annette as a third wave in case the first two groups missed anyone.

Dedue and Dimitri had charged in headfirst….Well, Dimitri had, Dedue followed after him with his heavy weapons and armor to keep the enemies off the Lord. Felix and Sylvain had followed after the first few minutes in case anyone came out of hiding to flank them, but lost them when a group of soldiers stormed from another hall. Speaking of…

”We found something in the engine room.”

Sylvain raised a brow, itching to ask what the Duscar man had found, but could only get out a ‘on our way’ as Felix stroke forward.

“Whoa, wait up!”

Felix glared at the path ahead, “Someone should take that thing away from him.”

Sylvain scratched the back of his head, knowing what his friend was talking about. “Yeah…probably.”

Except who’d be stupid enough to try?

“Look at this-this MESS!” Felix gestured around them as they turned the corner to find more blood and lifeless bodies. “It’s changing him! He’s sick!”

The red head bit his lip, not wanting to think about Dimitri being sick. Really, truly sick.

Dimitri had all the signs, all the madness that came with carrying one of the old relics. The irrationality, the paranoia, the hatred. He had to be forced to sleep and eat. They’d find him staring out into space, whispering and pledging to the dead that his goals would be met.

It made getting a drink at night…unsettling.

Sylvain kept his own lance in his room, not really caring for the alien object. The old weapons had always creeped him out. They looked too wrong to be normal and he could only wonder in amazement as to why their ancestors decided to play with them after discovering a tomb on some far off planet. Sure, they could cut through any armor and barrier like butter, and others could stop bullets and blasts. But holding them too long came with a price. A terrible price their Prince was paying for the longer he dwelled on his anger.

Heh. Thousands and thousands of years later and humans still fight with swords and daggers if angry enough.

Ashe and Annette had made it to the engine before them, both unharmed and standing side by side with the Captain and his Second as they stared at the back wall and talked. Sylvain raised a brow, wondering what could be so interesting about some machinery.

“It looks like a pod,” Annette said while bending her torso slightly to get a closer look without having to step forward.

Ashe looked excited, but uncertain. “Maybe it’s some kind of cryo-chamber?”

Annette turned her head when he heard their steps and gestured them over, making room for the two to stop and stare at the strange contraption before them.

Sylvain’s jaw dropped. “What the hell is that?”

Sitting on a pedestal was a marble. A giant, green marble that could roll over them all over with the right push. It was like some big, dull colored crystal ball just…sitting in some corner!

“Is this supposed to be important?” Felix asked with a wave of his hand.

Ashe was looking behind them, hand on his chin. “How did they get it through the door?”

“They had heavy guards protecting it and were quite determined to keep us away,” Dedue said thoughtfully.

“It’s kind of pretty.” Annette finally stepped closer, wanting to poke it.

Dimitri raised his lance and pierced it before the girl could even touch it. She screamed in shock while every hurried to stop him.

“You’re highness!”

“Whoa, dude!”

“BOAR!!”

But it was already too late, the blade of the deadly lance pierced the object with ease while it’s blue emblem roared to life. Sparks flew and a bright blue electric current rushed over the marble in a wave as a drip of lime green water started to drip out.

Everyone stood still, frozen mid grab for their Captain as he tore through the membrane like material (not glass like Sylvain had thought). They all gasped as a dribble of liquid spilled out.

Felix hissed, “You idiot! Are you trying to get us kill-!?!“

The object suddenly bursted open as swamp like water pooled at their feet and a cloud of gas sprayed out. It hit Dimitri first as he raised his arm to cover his mouth while the others quickly followed. The only sound that filled the room was their coughing and the hissing of gas that seemed louder then the ship’s own engines.

“D-Don’t breathe in!” Annette cried out, squinting her eyes through the slowing fog to try and see what was happening.

Ashe was already pulling out a small device to scan the air, his arms shaking with fear that they’d all suddenly drop dead. He blinked and slowly pulled his hand away, only to sneeze.

“O-Oh,” he rubbed his nose. “It’s safe. Nothing you wouldn’t find in a rainforest on Almyra.”

Everyone sighed in relief, opening their eyes and looking around at the strange conditions. The engine room felt less dark and dank and more…bright, nature-y.

Felix jerked away when something touched his cheek and quickly raised his gun, “What is this!?”

Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh. His friend was waving his weapon around at what looked like giant, glowing dandelion seeds.

Annette’s eyes sparkled as one floated past her face. “So pretty~!”

“Step back, my Lord!”

They all looked to see Dedue suddenly in front of Dimitri, his arm out to shield him while his other held his large gun, pointed and ready to fire at the broken marble. No one knew what was happening until the gas began to thin and the spores lit the room up like little lamps. Sylvain held his breath as a dainty figure stepped out of the object.

“Oh!” Annette covered her mouth while Felix aimed his gun, all of them wide eyed as a woman with glowing green hair stepped out. Wait, even her eyes!

Everything about her seemed to be bright, yet soft. Like a warm night light that lulled children to a peaceful sleep.

Her skin looked porcelain, fragile and mark free of any kind of battle or accident. Her features beautiful, sharp and blank, almost…inhuman. Then they noticed her ears and Ashe jolted with amazement.

“I-Is she…?!” He daren’t say it.

Space had been in their grasp for a good while now. Their race had traveled many light years and colonized many planets, moons, and even asteroids. But they’d always be alone with no sign of others living in this vast universe. But now…?

The woman(?) swept her gaze over them, stopping to stare at each of their faces as they all stood still in shock. It took her to fully step out for Dedue to aim his gun again.

“Halt, or I will be forced to shoot!”

She continued to stare at them all blankly, her eyes blinking at Dedue’s weapon. The girl tilted her head, her hand on her cheek as if in deep thought as she studied the heavy gun. Then her lips parted slightly, a small puff of air coming out in surprise(???) when she saw Dimitri’s lance.

Her hand reached for it and Dedue shot at her feet.

Annette paled when the strange woman didn’t react to the shot, her eyes now glowing as bright as the orb on Dimitri’s weapon. The lance practically shook as their Captain snarled, unwilling to let this stranger take what was his. He raised his lance as he had with the marble and shot forward, aiming straight for her head-!!

There was a scream and a scrambling of feet as half of the team backed away and the other stepped forward, ready to fight - but the scuffle never came. Nor did the blood or mangled body falling to the floor like all their enemies.

Instead they could only stare in awe as the blade froze in mid air, the shaft shaking in Dimitri’s hands as he seemed to be fighting to spear her.

“W-What is this!?”

She didn’t react to his snarl, her focus solely on the orb as it continued on with it’s thunderous rage. A small hand reached out again, ghosting over the emblem with a soft caress. It did not quell under touch, but also seemed to grow brighter the moment her skin made contact.

Dimitri snarled and the woman looked at his face, her own void of any emotion as she moved both her hands to his chest. The blonde recoiled, but didn’t move again when the mist in the room finally faded away.

Sylvain blinked, once, twice. Three times he had to make sure he knew what he was seeing.

“She’s naked!” Annette gasped while Ashe covered his eyes - all of them more or less agreeing this *was* a woman.

Dimitri’s gaze flickered down then shot right back up, cheeks turning a ruddy red as his arms began to twist.

“Idiot!” Felix hissed as she moved closer to lay her head on his chest. “Grab her!!”

Sylvain had to hold in a guffaw when their Captain looked over his shoulder with panic, one hand now holding his weapon while the other tried to find a place to grab.

“W-Where?!”

“Anywhere!”

He didn’t seem to like that answer. It meant he had to look at her again, take in her form and try to…restrain her. Sylvain could only look on fondly as Dimitri began to fluster as the woman seemed to be resting against where his heart was. It reminded the red head how painfully bad Dimitri was with women.

Who would have thought this raging beast would fall apart before some girl?

Dimitri swallowed hard when she looked up, eye wild with uncertainty as she reached up to cup his cheeks. He held his breath, thankful for the armor that separated his body from hers. All he had to do was not look too far down at her…ample….c-c-c-chest.

But he didn’t have to worry about that, not when she was tugging his head down into a kiss that made him drop his lance.

Annette gasped, Ashe asked what was happening from behind his arm while Felix and Dedue seemed at a loss. Sylvain was the only one doing something about the situation, and that was taking a few sneaky pictures to laugh at later.

The Prince was no better, his body tense in shock as the woman’s soft lips pressed his cracked ones. She held fast to his face while turning her head slightly, her eyes closed as if this was her long lost lover. Dimitri almost, almost closed his eye too, not wanting to admit that it was…nice. Yes, very nice.

But she had stopped before he could, letting his face go and staring up at him expectantly.

Dimitri blinked, body trembling like a teenage girl as he stared back.

Ashe finally took the time to look, having missed the strange kiss during his nervousness. But now he was interested and he couldn’t help but finally say it. “D-Did we just make first contact?!”

Sylvain snickered, glancing at their lost Captain. “Someone here sure did~”

#fire emblem #fe3h #dimitri x byleth #au #scifi #aliens #shenanighans #dimitri #byleth #dimileth #sylvain jose gautier #thefellstar

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hedwigstalons · 5 years ago

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The Tracy Prize - part 16

Or possibly more part 15b. Thank you @willow-salix for the ideas.

Here are the earlier parts for those that want to go back to the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15

xoxoxox

For Claire and Brains the day had started early.

Several weeks earlier Brains had gone to Scott, waving the details of the prestigious science and engineering symposium. He had made the case that some of the technologies being presented could prove useful to International Rescue and asked if he could attend. Scott had readily agreed and once Claire had joined the team the Commander had sourced a second ticket.

Now they were in Tracy Two excitedly circling seminars in the programme while Virgil flew them to the venue. They tried to include the normally cheerful engineer in their chatter but for once Virgil didn’t seem inclined to talk. He dropped them off with a few curt instructions about the arrangements for picking them up and returned to the cockpit.

If Claire and Brains had picked up on the strained atmosphere they were too wrapped up in the exhibition to pass comment. If they had turned around they might have noticed their pilot lingering a little longer than necessary to watch them depart.

Inside the conference centre the pair started wandering around the main exhibition space, waiting for the doors to the auditorium to open. The event proper was to be opened with a keynote speech given by an eminent researcher into fluid dynamics and they were keen to get good seats.

Once the doors to the auditorium had been opened the delegates filed in and the exhibition space emptied. Claire and Brains made their way down the steps flanking the tiered seating right to the bottom and claimed a pair of seats front and centre.

The lights dimmed and the lectern on the dais was picked out in the bright stage lighting.

The keynote speaker took to the stage. Claire and Brains drank in every word.

The speech was rudely interrupted as the auditorium doors burst open. The assembled delegates turned in their seats to see what was the matter.

A motley collection of men bearing assault rifles stood in the twin double doorways, their weapons trained on the crowd. Some were dressed in the uniform of the venue stewards, others in unmarked combat fatigues. The hushed silence of the delegates held for a moment until somebody screamed, then panic and hysteria set in.

“Silence!” one of their captors roared. There was a staccato burst of gunfire as a stream of bullets was aimed towards the ceiling.

“Do as you are told and you will not be harmed. On your feet. Move!”

The delegates started leaving their seats and making their way up to the main auditorium exits and their captors.

Claire nudged Brains who seemed frozen in shock. He tried to stand but before he had got halfway up Claire was pulling him down to the floor so they were shielded from sight by the seats. She hoped that the dim lighting and the moving crowd had hidden their action. She put her finger to her lips then pointed under the seats. Brains correctly interpreted her instruction and the pair shuffled through the small gaps between the seat legs.

They found themselves in a dark, hollow space under the seating. The underside of the rising tiers was boxed in above them. The sound of innumerable footsteps as the other delegates climbed the stairs and exited the auditorium reverberated around them.

They waited in silence until the last footsteps had died away and they could no longer hear the shouts of the captors directing everyone else to some unknown destination. They waited several more minutes until they felt safe from the risk of discovery.

Claire tapped her comms and tried to open a link with Tracy Island.

Nothing.

Brains tried his comms.

Nothing.

The pair looked at each other. They were trapped in a building with armed men and no way of summoning help. They were on their own.

A feeling of dread, mixed with an intense desire to get out, settled over them.

Crawling out of the dusty space underneath the seating Claire peeked up towards the doorways. The lecture hall was deserted. She beckoned Brains out of their hiding place and the two of them dashed across the dais towards an illuminated fire exit sign in the back corner. The followed the green arrows along a service corridor. Unfortunately, instead of leading to a simple push-bar door the exit barring their way had a more complex locking arrangement. It was securely sealed.

“Well we won’t be getting out this way” Claire groaned as she kicked ineffectually at the door.

“N-n-now what?”

“We try something different. Come on.”

She led the way back towards the auditorium and up towards the exits their fellow conference-goes had been herded out of. A quick check assured her that the exhibition hall was also deserted.

Claire and Brains made their way around the perimeter of the room. At each exit to the outside world they tried the doors but all were sealed shut, evidently locked via some central control. At each corridor opening they paused and listened, trying to judge where the armed men had gone.

At the second corridor they struck gold. Voices drifted out of the corridor, spilling from a room about half way along. Fear of discovery urged them to move on but they forced themselves to pause. To listen. It seemed that the terrorists were arguing.

It’s bigger than I thought it would be

It’s not my fault it won’t fit.

We’ll just have to make transport part of our demands

Evidently theft of some new invention had been their plan. They were about continue their search for an escape route when the voices started up again.

Where are the hostages?

Got them locked up in D wing.

Any trouble?

That lot? No way. I left Mike and Artem on guard but there is no way they are getting out.

Come on, we need to measure this thing.

An idea struck Claire. To Brains’ dismay she slipped in to the corridor towards the voices. Not wanting to be left on his own he reluctantly followed her. As they reached the open doorway she gestured for Brains to stay back against the wall. Checking that the terrorists were all absorbed with the item on display in the room she dashed unseen across the open doorway.

The double doors to the room opened outwards into the corridor. She took hold of the door on her side while Brains, having realised her intention, took hold of the other.

On a silent count of three they slammed the doors shut. Brains hit the lock symbol of the nearby keypad. The terrorists were now trapped.

They paused for a moment as they leaned against the wall. Their heavy breathing having more to do with the rising adrenalin levels than the brief moment of exertion.

Thankfully the jailhouse vibe of the building was more than just aesthetic. An angry banging sounded as the terrorists attempted to break down the door but the locks and reinforced steel held firm.

“We still c-c-can’t get out through. And there are at least t-t-two others s-s-somewhere.”

That was a definite problem.

“If only w-w-we had our equipment. W-w-we could s-s-soon break out of here.” Brains sounded deflated after their moment of triumph.

As if a lightbulb had been switched on Claire realised that was the answer. Breaking out. She grabbed Brains by the hand and dragged him back toward the exhibition space.

“So what if we don’t have access to International Rescue kit. Look around. We are at one of the leading science exhibitions in the world. There has got to be something here we can use.”

She grabbed one of the large scale floor plans off a display board settled them down in a secluded corner, well hidden from D corridor where at least two more of the terrorist group were based.

D corridor itself was dominated by a large seminar room. The conference organisers had kept the room free as a refreshments area with space for the delegates to network. She surmised that this room had now been commandeered as a temporary prison.

She and Brains reviewed the floor plan, marking off stands and exhibition rooms they wanted to pilfer for supplies.

The first step was to be able to defend themselves and neutralise the remaining terrorists.

A trip to the medical sciences zone furnished them with some anaesthetic and hypodermic needles. With a bit of improvisation Brains managed to construct some viable tranquilizer guns. They wouldn’t be particularly accurate but Brains and Claire knew they would have the element of surprise on their side. As long as they could shoot from close range the darts should find their mark.

They crept between the display stands, keeping low as they headed to where the other delegates were being held.

Claire and Brains moved as silently as they could. The hearts pounded in anticipation.

D corridor was an L-shaped affair with the doors to the seminar room out of sight around the corner. Voices drifted towards them. It sounded like just two men and they were evidently bored. They moaned to each other about being left on guard duty. A task they clearly felt was pointless with everyone securely locked up.

They didn’t realise their lives were about to get a lot more interesting.

Brains, who at least had some training on a more traditional tranquilizer gun, stepped around the corner and fired his makeshift invention twice in quick succession. The surprised expressions on the guards’ faces went slack as the anaesthetic entered their bloodstream. Their weapons, which they hadn’t even had time to raise, fell to the floor with a clatter. Two unconscious bodies quickly followed.

Claire and Brains ran forwards and bound the men securely. The men were now dead weights. The scientists were glad the floor was so highly polished as the dragged them out of the way and dumped them in a side room.

Brains stood sentry at the corridor corner while Claire ran back to the now unguarded doorway. She punched at the key pad but the doors remained stubbornly locked. Scared voices called out from inside but she was unable to free the prisoners. The thick doors muffled their words but she could tell something was wrong

She called for calm and asked for a single spokesperson to give an update on their condition. Evidently one of the delegates had attempted to tackle their captors on the way in and had received a blow to the head with a rifle butt. The wound was still bleeding and the man clearly needed medical attention sooner rather than later.

Hurrying back to Brains she relayed the situation. As a doctor his main concern was now for the man on the other side of the door. Priorities had changed. Freeing the hostages became more important than overall escape.

“C-c-can you open the d-d-door?”

“No. Electronics aren’t really my thing. You try.”

They swapped over and for the first time in her life Claire found herself holding what could loosely be termed as a weapon. She knew the tranquilizer gun wasn’t designed to kill. That was probably just as well. Her initial fear had turned to anger towards those that had engineered this situation. Theft of intellectual property and inventions was a topic that riled her like no other. The tranquilizer gun was held firm and steady in her hand as she pointed it down the corridor.

Brains was soon back with her. The disappointment of failure clearly etched on his face.

“I-I-I can’t override the system. I n-n-need to get in there though. I’m s-s-seriously worried about the injured m-m-man.”

“Then we just need a Plan B”

Claire led the way back into the exhibition space.

“Can you rig some sort of fuse?” she asked as she gathered up various materials.

“Of c-c-course. Physical or electronic?”

“Physical. If radio signals are down we don’t know how a remote detonator will perform.”

“Hang on. D-d-detonator? What exactly are you p-p-planning.”

Claire waved a block of putty at him. The grin on her face was quite intimidating.

“I’ve found me some plastic explosives. This should get us through the door.”

Brains stepped quickly backwards. “Is that w-w-wise?” The putty was making him highly nervous.

“Look, I trusted you not to kill anyone with the anaesthetic doses. I need you to trust me on this. I spent ages playing with variants of this stuff as an undergrad.”

With all the materials gathered together they made their way back to D corridor. Working quickly and quietly Claire carefully pressed the putty into strategic points around the door frame and lock. Wires were then inserted into the putty blocks. It took several minutes before she was happy with the configuration and amounts of explosives.

Claire instructed everyone inside the room to move to the far end and shield themselves with upturned tables. She and Brains then retreated around the corner of the corridor. With the fuse primed and ready to go she tripped the ignition switch.

The sound of the explosion reverberated down the corridor and smoke billowed towards them.

As soon as the smoke cleared slightly Brains took off towards the seminar room and the man he now viewed as his patient.

Claire realised that it wasn’t just the sound of Brains running that she could hear. More footsteps headed her way.

She raised the tranquilizer gun in anticipation.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #kayo #brains

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jacklyn-flynn · 5 years ago

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Sneak peek Sunday! Space Trash!

Sorry everyone! Yesterday was bonkers and I never got around to posting this. Here is the first ever sneak peek of my brand new project, Space Trash. It might be a little long for a WIP teaser (hence the cut), but it’s my favorite part of the first chapter I think. Hopefully you enjoy it! I’m so excited to finally be getting this out after months of obsessive planning. h

Special thanks to @sarenkascrawls, @kemvee, @ranawaytothedas, @cornfedcryptid, @faerieavalon and @kittimau for all your support and title help! For anyone else that I missed, I’m so sorry but I love you too! 💖

“How does everything look?” He asked her curiously.

“Like I worked on it all yesterday. There are no signs of neglect anywhere, let alone 60 years of it. There’s not a thing wrong with them. They’re just sleeping right now.” He was surprised at the drastic change in her confidence when she spoke of the ship. It was rather endearing, as if she spoke of a beloved pet.

The Commander nodded. “Well, that's something anyway.” He said with a slight smile.

“Did your friend depart already?” She asked, stuffing the tool into one of her jumpsuit pockets.

“Yes. She had to head down to the shuttle hanger with two others. We need to get up to the Temple and determine what happened.” He explained. “We were hoping you could help us, actually.” He broached carefully.

As if on cue, his comm chirped softly and she recognized Cassandra’s accent.

“To anybody available near the valley, we need reinforcements. Now! A rift has opened and we're under attack. Pinned down.” They could hear the sounds of battle in the background and the horrible screeching of demons.

“I need to go.” He said immediately.

“Wait. Do you have a vehicle?” He shook his head grimly. Walking, in retrospect, was a terrible idea. “How far is the valley?” She asked, walking to a large panel on the wall. It brightened at her approach and a map of the terrain around Haven appeared. He didn’t question how she got such up to date information, he just pointed to the location.

“You’ll never get there in time if you have to run back to Haven first. It’s in the opposite direction.” He was surprised to find her staring into his eyes. She’d hardly made eye contact the entire day. It was like she was trying to see something in his eyes, or perhaps his soul. Whatever she was looking for, she found. “Follow me.” She sprinted toward the engine room doors.

He found it difficult to keep up. Maker, she was quick. No wonder he and Cassandra hadn’t been able to catch up to her. She took a sharp right turn and he hesitated. “The garage is to the left!” He called after her.

She stopped and turned. “I know! Please, trust me!” Jules pleaded. She saw the hesitation in his eyes, but it was only momentary.

She led him to a large, heavy bulkhead. ARMORY was painted on it. She laid her hand on the glowing panel by the door but it made a dull thumping noise back at her, the panel dimming and then returning again.

She immediately took a few steps back down the hallway, bent and pulled a metal panel off the wall near the floor. She tossed it aside and stuck her hand inside. “Cover your ears.” She said, her voice flat and emotionless.

“Why?” He asked, though he raised his hands anyway.

“I’m going to make her think we’ve been boarded by hostiles. When her security protocols are in place I have access to more places.” She said pulling out a bundle of wires and quickly sifting them through her fingers. They were impossibly small and though there were dozens of colors and even patterns, many of them were repeated. There must have been hundreds in the wrist sized bundle. He noticed as she touched them, dim blue points of light glowed from the fingertips of her right hand.

She separated one, then after a moment of searching, two more. With a small tool from one of the pockets of her jumpsuit, she cut the two in half and cross connected them. Immediately, a klaxon blared through the hallway. She’d been right. It was incredibly loud. A red light flashed in intervals along the ceiling of the hallway. He covered his ears and watched as she ripped the other single wire out completely. It resisted at first but she wrapped it around one hand and gave it a vicious yank.

The alarm stopped but the red lights continued to strobe. She dropped the wire on the floor and sprinted back to the armory door and touched the panel. “Take what you need. Quickly!” She told him, standing aside as the door slid open with the occasional scrape of metal against metal.

He wasted no time selecting a pistol, strapping the holster around his waist and thigh. He snatched up a hydrogen blade and met her back at the door. Without word, she started sprinting toward the garage and he once again struggled to keep up. Luckily he was confident he could get back himself if she got too far ahead.

She shot through the door into the garage, grabbing the frame to swing herself around quickly. Her hand slapped on a panel and the ramp started to descend. “Take vehicle two!” She made it to the vehicle far before he did and released the cables securing it to the deck. They wound back into the floor.

He looked inside. “I don't know how to drive this.” The Commander's words made her heart sink. She stared at him, frozen. She would have to leave the ship, she realized. Then, once again, her steely determination took over.

“Fine.” She said simply, climbing behind the wheel.

He knew he was wrong to let her do this. She didn’t know him, any of them, beyond her experience in the Chantry cell. He had seen her fear, her utter terror. Worse, he knew that horror and still he got in the other side and pulled the door closed.

The vehicle seemed to respond to her thoughts alone. The engine rumbled to life and then purred contentedly while displays lit up in the cabin. Jules was pulling two straps over her shoulders, buckling them into the strap she’d secured over her lap.

“Buckle.” She reminded absently. He did so as well.

“We need to head south of Haven. There's a route through the forest.” He told her, securing his own belts. She slammed the vehicle into gear and jerked forward, shooting out of the Herald and onto the snowy terrain.

She took a sharp turn away from the town of Haven and found the path he was indicating. Cullen wished that he had something to hold onto. She seemed to be a competent driver, but the breakneck speed had him concerned.

He questioned, perhaps belatedly, how she had learned to drive so well never leaving the Herald . He glanced over but her face was determined, both hands on the wheel of the vehicle. She wasn’t paying any attention to him, her entire focus on moving forward.

The road ran along a ridge overlooking the valley. “That must be it.” Cullen said. “Outside your window.” She chanced a look and saw green crackling mass in air above the valley. It was nearly at eye level. Crystalline formations jutting out, exploding and returning into itself.

She could see the fight down below against creatures she couldn't imagine in her worst nightmares. They still had to make it to the far side of the valley and down the water-worn slope. A shift of her foot and hand pushed the vehicle even faster.

“The turn is just ahead.” Cullen said. He waited a moment and then glanced over at her. “You need to slow down, there’s a turn up ahead.” He warned, trying to hide his alarm.

Still, she didn’t respond. Not even a look in his direction. Her hand moved between them, grabbing a horizontal lever. He didn’t know what it did, but he knew he was going to wish he had something to hold onto.

“Maker’s breath.” He let out, reaching behind him to grab the headrest of his seat, his other arm bracing against the dash in front of him.

When he was sure they were going to die, she spun the wheel and a mere moment later, lifted the lever. He was thrown against the side of the vehicle and for a time, it seemed like they were going lift off the ground on the driver’s side and slam into the wall.

Cullen had always believed that if you couldn’t trust someone completely, you couldn’t trust them at all. The only thing that he trusted in that moment was that his death would be instantaneous if that happened. But if she made this turn, he would absolutely trust her with his life for however long that would be.

She slammed the lever back down and cut the wheel. Amazingly, the vehicle straightened out and regained it’s momentum. They tore down the deep embankment and she belatedly realized that the valley floor was a frozen lake when the back end started to slide to the right. She hit a button on the dash in front of her and the vehicle corrected itself with a jerk. He could hear ice crunching and grinding under the wheels now.

She slowed when she saw a bald elf with a staff. Energy just seemed to erupt from both his hand and his weapon. As they drew closer, she saw the dark-haired woman again, hydrogen blade cutting at a hunched demon that lumbered toward her, sending a screech through the air that she could hear in the cabin, even from that distance.

The vehicle skittered to a stop, throwing up ice. Cullen threw open the door and was gone. Jules gripped the steering wheel and focused on not hyperventilating. She didn’t plan on getting out of the vehicle. She just wanted him to be able to help his friends. She could feel her hands shaking so she gripped the steering wheel tighter, until her knuckles turned white.

Jules peeler her eyes from the dash and looked at the chaos in front of her. The dark haired woman she remembered as the Seeker, was facing away from her, engaging one demon. She glanced over and saw another approaching from behind. It’s odd, gangly gait made her shiver with disgust. She managed to release her iron grip on the wheel and laid on the horn.

The sound echoed through the frozen valley, but the woman wasn’t able to disengage from her current enemy. The demon drew closer and closer, the entirety of its focus on the woman. Unaware, or perhaps uncaring that the opposite door was still open, she released the clutch and slammed down the accelerator. The tire studs had a hard time finding their grip, but when they did she shot forward.

She managed to gain a considerable amount of speed and momentum in a very short distance. The Seeker dispatched her enemy and spun. She didn’t see the demon that was nearly upon her, she only saw Jules hurtling toward her. There was no time to move or react, but she didn’t have to. She wasn’t the vehicles target.

She slammed into the demon and heard it roll over the roof of the vehicle. It landed in a heap near the stunned Seeker, screeching and scrambling to stand. She finished it quickly and sprinted to the still open passenger side door.

Jules gaze was straight ahead and when the Seeker spoke, her head turned, startled. “Thank you.” The Seeker said with an appreciative nod. Her voice was grave and apologetic. There was weight behind her words and Jules was sure she meant it. She nodded in response and swallowed hard.

#cullen can't drive stick #space trash #sneak peek #Jules Trevelyan #cassandra pentaghast #solas #demons are the devil #sneaky bastards #i just hope this isn't actual trash #my new baby #what am i getting myself into

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sirius-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Champagne Kisses

Request: Georgie!!! Hey!!! Can I please have prompt 1, 5 and 18 with Steve Rogers??? Love your writing!!

Prompts: 1. That’s starting to get annoying, 5. I’m not here to make friends 18. What’s the matter, sweetie?

Prompts: Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: finally got around to finishing this!! First Drabble in the Drabble challenge! This is a first for this blog: a marvel imagine!! Pls request more.

In which Steve Rogers does not become an old man, Clint Barton is Single and Ready To Mingle, and Natasha Romanoff is [avengers endgame spoiler]

Enjoy!

***

In theory, the mission is fairly simple: Crash the rich dudes party, steal the biochemical weapon, and slap a lifetime sentence on said rich dude before he can take another sip of his ridiculously expensive champagne.

There is, however, one contingency that always seems to fuck theoretically simple missions up.

“Fuck!” Natasha’s voice is in your ear; a husky curse that tapers off into an irritated sigh, making the ear piece nestled in the shell of your ear crackle, “Dawson must have amped up the security once he got wind that the weapon’s in demand. There’s guards crawling all over the place. It’s starting to get annoying...”

Her words are cut off with a sharp grunt and you hear the crunch of broken bones low groans of pain as Natasha takes each one of them out. Glancing around the large ballroom, you spot several security guards loitering around the exit, looking equal parts bored and boring, and realise that Natasha is right.

“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun without a fist fight,” you sigh, twirling a ribbon of hair around your finger, chewing the velvety flesh of your cheek in annoyance.

“A woman after my own heart,” Natasha quips, a little breathless as you hear the crack of her knuckles against flesh.

“Tasha, you’d better not be flirting while I’m listening in,” You hear Clint quip, and you can almost hear the smirk tilting his lips as it curls up the edges of his words.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, your fingertips skimming across the spaghetti-string strap of your halter neck dress, “And what are you going to do about it, Clinton?”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ve always got something up my sleeve.”

You take an elegant sip from your flute of champagne, hiding your smirk, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Are you guys done?” Says a familiar baritone, and your breath catches in your throat.

Steve Rogers is several yards away, yet it feels as though he’s standing right behind you, hands on your hips and breath on your neck. Of course, the possibility of a romance with Captain America was something you only entertained in your sweetest dreams, but you supposed it was okay to fantasise...

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” you retort, sultrily, “We are only just beginning.”

“You’d better finish up then because we have a job to do...”

You can hear the smile in his tone, a touch of playfulness that seems to soften his scolding.

You shift in the bar stool, the delicate, smooth skin of your leg peeking out from the long slit in your satin, gold dress. You feel dozens of eyes swivel over your body appreciatively, drinking you in like golden champagne. In your previous life, that would have been the effect you were after. But tonight, you’re not here to steal hearts, only biochemical weapons.

“While you guys are having fun flirting and drinking champagne, I’ve actually been working,” Sams voice bites into your ear, his tone mingled amusement and exasperation, “I’ve scouted the area. Our escape route doesn’t seem to be affected by the additional security.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you were in here with me,” Natasha snaps.

“Clint, what’s your status?” Steve asks.

“Im in position, Cap,” Clint answers from a neighbouring rooftop, “Enjoying the view from up here.”

“I’ll need you on the ground with Romanoff,” Steve orders, “I’m moving into position.”

“We’re back on a last name basis?” Natasha says, the hum of her Widows venom buzzing in your ear, “Well that’s cold.”

You take another languid sip of champagne, taking in your surroundings.

Classical music swells from the orchestra, climbing up the wobbly, tumultuous ladder of a chilling crescendo as you watch the wealthy mingle with one another, shrill, careless laughter echoing. There was once a time when you were with them, either running a con or planning a heist. You never imagined that you’d be thrust back into this world again as an Avenger.

“(Y/N)?” Steve asks, his voice softening just slightly.

“I’m in position,” you answer, swirling your flute of champagne elegantly, “Waiting for your signal.”

“Good,” Steve commends, his voice sounding warm and clear, “By the way, gold really is your colour.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you turn, surveying the room. Steve is in the corner, dressed up like a daydream as he stares at you from across the room.

Your gazes clash.

Your heart freezes.

Steve crosses the room, sliding into the vacant stool next to you.

You recover quickly, ironing out your posture as you try to bury your emotions beneath a nonchalant mask.

“That was quick...” you murmur, and Clint snorts.

“Don’t say it—” Sam warns through the comms, but Clint is already speaking.

“—Title of your sex tape.”

A smirk curls around your lips, meeting Steve’s eyes for one charged moment, “Oh Clint, that’s certainly not the title of my sex tape...”

An adorable shade of pink dusts the apples of Steve’s cheeks and he quickly averts his gaze. Tilting your head at Steve, a simpering smile sprawls across your lips.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Cat got your tongue?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Steve glances at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the ends of his mouth. His expression straightens and he looks around, “Seen Dawson anywhere?”

“Nope,” you smirk smugly, “He’s still knocked out in the closet I left him in.”

Steve smiles, regarding you warmly. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you can’t quite place, a sense of longing that makes the base of your spine tingle warmly.

“I got eyes on the weapon.”

Natasha’s voice shatters the moment. Steve shakes his head, drawing himself out of a lingering gaze.

“Excellent. Sam, where are you at with the security situation?”

“Working on it,” Sam grunts, slamming a guard into a wall.

“And I’m with Nat now,” Clint adds, panting slightly.

“You’re getting too old for this game, Barton,” you quip and you hear Clint sigh.

“You bet I am.”

“(Y/N) and I will extract the plans from Dawson’s diary,” Steve mutters into his comm, “We will meet at the rendezvous point.”

“Copy.”

“Copy that, Cap.”

Steve nods purposefully and the two of you glide smoothly off the dance floor, edging toward the closed off hallway inconspicuously.

After swiftly evading the security personnel, you finally arrive at Dawson’s private study. Recalling the blueprint you had stolen earlier, you locate the secret passage and enter through a hidden door, scaling down a spiral staircase until you reach the secret, underground lair.

“Well if this doesn’t scream cliche James-Bond-style villain lair, I don’t know what else does,” you retort, sauntering into the cold, damp lair.

The two of you split off into opposite directions, silently rushing around the room in search of the diary.

Steve dashes forward, moving briskly, until he finds a locked drawer. Using his superhuman strength, he wrenches the door open and steals Dawson’s diary; a heavy tome with a large, metal bracket locking it into place. You and Steve exchange a look.

“Think you can break into it?” Steve asks, raising a questioning brow at you. You grin.

“Finally, I get to do something fun around here,” you quip, a sharp blade of crackling psychic energy shooting out from your palm. You neatly slice through the lock, the jaws unhinging with a click and a hiss, clanging loudly onto the floor.

You gaze at the book, teeth digging into your bottom lip. How many times had you used your gift to steal, and yet now you were using your abilities to save the world? It was a startling realisation that had crossed your mind hundreds of times over the past year or so since you had joined the Avengers as a criminal searching for redemption.

“I never thought...” you whisper under your breath, trailing off into silence.

“Never thought what?” Steve asks from the opposite side of the room and you glance back at him, momentarily forgetting about his superhuman hearing.

“I just...” you begin, unsure of how to phrase the emotions you’ve bottled up inside of you, “...I’m still adjusting to the whole ‘Avengers’ thing...”

Steve pauses, hesitating, gazing at you with so much hidden meaning, you think for a moment that you must have imagined it. Just as you think he’s not going to speak...

“Change always takes some getting used to, trust me, I know,” Steve takes a step toward you, blue eyes genuine and unguarded as they consider you carefully, “But friends always make it easier and - well - you have us...”

You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on a sincere smile, “I’m - well - I’m not here to make friends.”

Steve slides a hand through his hair, “You can’t isolate yourself forever.”

You shrug, eyes not quite meeting his, “Doesn’t have to be forever, just until I’m sure about this...”

Steve frowns, expression rippling, “You’re not sure about us? About...” he trails off, blushing.

“No, not at all! Just, well, sometimes I feel like I’m not...worthy of this...”

Steve crosses the room, resting a warm hand on your shoulder as he ducks his gaze, peering into your eyes with a piercing gaze, “You don’t have to doubt yourself, (Y/N). Just you being here is enough, enough for everyone and enough for me.”

His hand lingers, and there’s so much sincerity in the clear, ceraluen depths of his eyes, you almost believe him. And then his fingers start to trail up your neck, calloused tips dancing across your skin until they tangle around a loose strand of hair and you melt into his touch, embracing it. You’re drawn to him, stepping closer, until you can connect the green flecks in his eyes like constellations, and your eyes flutter closed for a moment, his voice leaking into your mind, into your inner ear, crystal clear and overflowing with hidden yearning.

...Kiss her...

Without really thinking, you step forward, pressing your lips to Steve’s in a gentle kiss. Steve immediately responds, cupping your face with strong hands as he groans against your lips, his tongue gliding across the bottom cushion of your lip. You moan in response, parting your lips, and you taste champagne and mint and a hint of whiskey, and it’s like tasting sunlight in the early mornings, the ones you love the most, and you arch into him, raking your fingers through his hair and tugging him closer, closer, closer.

“Erm...you guys still there?”

Distantly, Sams voice breaks into your consciousness and you groan, reluctantly breaking away from Steve with an irritated sigh.

“We were kind of having a moment here, Wilson,” you snap, and Sams chortles trickle into your ear.

Plucking the comm from your ear, you carelessly toss it onto the desk with a smirk. Steve’s brows nearly graze his hairline, but he copies you anyway, and with a smirk, you step toward him.

“Now, where were we?”

****

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