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otptings · 4 years ago

Text

Flowers

☽ Requested; Yes

☽ Idol; Jungwon

☽Word Count; 3.3k+

☽ Genre; Hanahaki (lots of mentions for it) Friends to Lovers, slight Angst

☽ Warnings; Self deprecating thoughts, mentions of hanahaki disease, slight blood, lots of cringe flower metaphors

☽ Synopsis; Date night has been a monthly tradition since before Jungwon debuted in Enhypen. This is your first day out in months with Jungwon, but somethings different about this one. Is it the fact that he's an idol now, and all of your activities happen in empty establishments that have been bought out by his management, or is it your newly returning feelings for Jungwon that threatened to choke you out, causing dark violet flowers to spew out of your mouth at every interaction with him?

☽ A/n; The zoo I am describing for this is the Honolulu Zoo because that is the last one that I've been to, so if some of the animals aren't in Seoul than I apologize for that. Hope you enjoy this and sorry for taking so long on this request I had so many ideas of how to pull off the dates

You trusted Jungwon. It came easily like breathing, only a natural side effect developed effortlessly over 5 years of friendship. Days spent laughing and telling jokes, venting to each other about worries and stresses, studying for hours the night before tests. With someone as generous, and lovable as him it was easy to trust him with your life. He has also used this to his advantage, convincing you to do questionable things with a flash of his dimples. Like now, allowing him to lead you down the streets of Seoul while blindfolded. Completely at his mercy.

"Are we close? My feet are starting to hurt. We've been walking for hours." You whined as Jungwon pulled you around another corner. You've lost your sense of direction 4 turns ago, and he seemed to keep on going. "Why couldn't your manager just drive us the whole way? You had to have him stop super far from wherever you're taking me?" Jungwon just let out a laugh and gently squeezed your wrist. . His hand surrounding your wrist was comforting and grounding, a reminder that you were safe with him.

"We're almost there I promise. And if I would've done that it wouldn't have been a surprise now would it." You humphed knowing that Jungwon was stubborn when it came to things like this.

"You always do this. It's not fair, your ideas are always so much fancier than mine." Jungwon let out another laugh, and you didn't have to see him to know his expression. Eyes probably scrunched up, his dimples greeting the world as he laughed at my pain.

"It's not my fault that I love you so much. Plus I always want to do something special with you." Confusion flooded your mind while your heart skipped multiple beats at his words.

In the same sense of truth, feelings were natural too. Flowering in your chest with every sweet action he did, never wanting a reward for it just doing them because that's the kind of person he is. Packing extra food in his lunch box knowing your tendency to forget your own. Cupping your cheeks while he wiped away your tears, listening to you rant about your sorrows or broken hearts. Pulling you close to his chest afterwards, massaging the back of your head knowing how bad your headaches get after crying. Arms wrapped securely around you as he whispered calming words into your ear, a sense of security and comfort blanketing you while listening to his heart beat. Every gentle, caring and loving action made the flowers grow.

When Jungwon told you about his plan to audition for Be-Lift one part of you was selfish. You wanted him to stay, turn down the biggest opportunity of his lifetime, continue being only your Jungwon. That part was tiny however; and you squashed down those bitter feelings. You were absolutely ecstatic for him, having been the one to even push him towards the auditions. Stayed up hours at night to watch him practice, seeing his confidence grow tremendously the weeks leading to that fateful day.

When he got accepted you both celebrated the great news. His parents held a dinner in his honor, and his family sat around the table, congratulating him and his accomplishment. At first you were happy for him, overflowing with joy that your best friend had passed the biggest audition of his life. But as the day got closer you had to hide your heart break, smiling despite the tears you shed at night. Knowing that he was going to leave you soon.

The night before he left for I-Land was the hardest one, cuddling into his side while you laid in his bed. The last time in a while you would be in his room like this, only the two of you and the quiet of the night. You didn't sleep the whole night, only savoring the feeling of Jungwon holding you tightly, the last night of him being yours. Your best friend. Your first love.

Your Jungwon.

For the first time in 5 years you were apart for longer than a couple weeks. During this time the flowers started to wilt. You were grateful, ecstatic. Of course you missed Jungwon terribly, tuning in every Friday to support him. Eyes watering every time you watched him perform , pride prevailing over any negative emotions you could have as he confidently took the stage. When it was revealed he had made the debut team you had wailed, preening at your best friend's accomplishment knowing that his hard work paid off.

When Jungwon came home to visit your feelings were gone. You didn't feel the twisting in your chest when you hugged him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck as you both cried. Pulling away to look him in the face your heart didn't flutter at his smile, you only relished in the feeling that your best friend was back.

You thought your feelings had wilted into piles of dust and blown away. Not having seen him for months of course that'd be normal. You had thought your feelings were gone for good when you started to see him more frequently and they still hadn't returned.

You were wrong.

"Are you okay bugs?" Snapping out of your daze you realized that Jungwon was standing directly in front of you, one hand cupping your face and concern in his eyes. You nodded your head, cursing yourself for being getting so distracted.

"I'm fine bunny." His eyes scanned your face once before he leaned back, letting his hand linger.

"You know I just worry about you sometimes." Dropping his hand to his side he turned dramatically, switching the topic and gesturing at the box office in front of us. His manager was there waiting for us, underneath the gigantic sign for the zoo. "But I knew that you missed the zoo since we haven't gone in a long time. So I actually convinced management to rent it out for us for 2 hours."

Practically leaping into his arms you wrapped your arms around his neck, a huge smile spreading across your face. "Thank you thank you thank you!" Pulling away you saw his facial expression mimicking yours, dimples proudly on display and bunny teeth prominent.

"Come on, let's go." You giggled as you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the gate. After getting your wrist bands - just for the experience - you downloaded the digital map and headed into the zoo ecstatic for your day with Jungwon.

♤♠︎♤

"Come on bugs, just look at the snake." You shook your head vehemently, trying to yank your hand free. His fingers only tightened around you wrist as he attempted to convince you to look at the giant snake in the glass enclosure merely 3 feet away from where you stood.

"Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Jungwon." You whined out his name, refusing his outrageous request.

Snakes were definitely a no for you. Especially a boa constrictor that can grow up to 13 ft long. The one they held in the exhibit was only 5 ft, but it could always become bigger. What would even need to get that big? Any animal that needs to be 5+ ft is a menace to society, and only here for evil. You'd already catered to Jungwon enough in this godforsaken reptile and amphibian section. The frogs were cute, absolutely adorable with their big glassy eyes, hanging on to the glass. Lizards weren't a big deal either, some of them over 3 ft long, lazing about their enclosure, enjoying the surprisingly warm Seoul day.

"Isn't this supposed to be a special day for me? Why would you make me see a stupid snake? They don't even have arms, that's so weird and creepy." Jungwon let out a laugh before pulling you over to him, a squeal leaving your lips as your back met his chest, and his arms wrapped around you. At the slightest display of affection you stopped fighting him, feeling the vines squeezing around your heart painfully, before he started to walk forward and you remembered where you were. Fighting for your life.

You tried to plant your feet in the ground to prevent Jungwon from forcing you to see the snake, but he only lifted your feet from the ground as you cursed the stupid Be:Lift gyms. His manager stared in amusement from the corner, his phone out to record the two of you and undoubtably show it to the rest of the members.

Another loud squeal left your mouth as Jungwon brought you right in front of the glass enclosure, the snake was sitting in the corner but slowly started moving towards the two of you, as if you had fascinated it. You turned your head, placing it in the crook of Jungwon's neck as you squeezed your eyes tight. Ignoring the fear that coursed through your body knowing that the snake was only separated by a thin layer of plexiglass.

"Bugs just look." You only shook your head, "I promise the snake won't hurt you as long as I'm here okay? You know I'll always protect you." Jungwon's soft voice cut through the fear, and you sighed knowing that you were falling into another one of his traps. You turned your head while taking a deep breath before opening your eyes, being met with the face of the snake.

With Jungwon's constant flow of reassurance in your ear you took a good look at the snake. The snake was against the glass, falling back down before slithering up again. Its eyes were wide open and almost looked like doe eyes, black and glassy as it stared at you. The scales were a pretty pastel yellow, mixed with white, resembling a banana cow. You were so distracted admiring the snake that you both jumped when his manager suggested you should get along, and walk further into the park. You felt your heart clench painfully as Jungwon stepped away from you, a blush running up his neck and spreading over his cheeks as he quickly walked to the next exhibit not bothering to wait for you.

♤♠︎♤

"I think this is the best friend date we've ever had." Jungwon spoke happily as you two walked out of the zoo gift shop, a red fox panda stuffed animal tucked safely in your arms. His treat since he refused to let you pull out your wallet and purchase it for yourself. You chose to ignore the flutter of your heart and rush of heat at the thought of this being a true date, your mind decidedly ignoring the word 'friend'. Your cheeks ached as you smiled. They've started to hurt after the amount of time spent joking and laughing while visiting the animals.

"It was. I really appreciated it. I've missed you, it's been so long since we've been able to hang out like this." Jungwon nodded in agreement, an uncharacteristically shy smile spreading across your face.

"Come on. The nights still not over, I have one more surprise for you." Jungwon tossed his arm over your shoulder as he led you to the car, excitement and surprise as you thought about what he could potentially still have planned.

Being ever the gentleman he opened the door for you, waiting until you were safely inside to close it and join you. His manager turned on the radio as he drove you two to the next destination.

"Don't tell me we're going to have to walk again? My feet are still dying from the zoo." Jungwon let out a laugh as he grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he intertwined your fingers.

"We won't have to walk too much I promise. Just sit back and relax, it shouldn't take too long to get there." You nodded your head before quickly looking out of the window, no longer able to ignore it.

The vines grew in your chest, clenching painfully around your heart, writhing and squeezing like a boa constrictor trying to capture its prey, crawling up your throat making you resist the urge to gag. Lungs filling with petals that swirled and fluttered around with every breath until there were too many, leaving no room to move around, just clumping together as breathes became sickly. Until you could no longer resist the urge to cough.

The sound of you hacking and gagging, the sight of a worried Jungwon when the first petal comes out. Dark violet petals fluttering out with every spasm of your lungs, some full flowers with stems still attacked, coated with a thin layer of maroon liquid, staining the pretty petals and tinging your pink sweater with spots of red, the bitter taste of the flowers mixing with copper. Your throat sore as the taste of bile rose alongside the rest of the petals, finally emptying your lungs. Filling the car until there was no room to hide from it, hide from your feelings. Hide from the predicament that you were in, feelings for you best friend, the rookie idol.

How could you be so stupid to believe that you could hide it? You were always so easily exposed to Jungwon. He knew you better than you knew yourself. What if he already knew and was just biding his time before he left you, the thought of your feelings disgusting him, being too much for him? He could surely find another best friend, one who wouldn't fall for him.

But could that ever happen? Someone not falling for him. It's easy to fall for his eyes, chocolate eyes that always saw right through you. That knew when you weren't feeling good and were trying to hide it. Dark unruly hair, never easily tamed but was so silky when you ran your fingers through it. Despite being called bunny he practically purred whenever you did it, causing your face to burn at the feelings that always resurfaced. Caring nature that assured he'd become the leader of his group, always wanting to care for everyone around him and make sure that they were happy.

You don't think it'd ever be possible for someone to not fall for him.

"Are you okay bugs?" You blinked realizing that the car door was open, Jungwon standing in front of you with the same concerned look that made you feel ashamed, and yet warmed.

Glancing around you realized you had imagined the coughing fit, drowning in the sea of your own emotions and being buried under a mountain of petals. It was all in your imagination, hanahaki didn't exist. How could it? If it existed you would surely be dead.

Shaking your head you waved off the question, unbuckling your seatbelt and quickly hoping out of the van.

"Of course. I'm perfectly fine, just feeling a little tired I guess. Must've gotten lost in my thoughts. Anyway, where are we?" Jungwon raised a brow at your rambling, knowing you only did it when you were nervous before choosing to ignore it and grabbing your hand again. You hoped he couldn't feel how sweaty your palms were, nerves taking over you at the realization your feelings and thoughts had run away from you again.

"Well I wanted to do something really special for you," You shook your head before cutting Jungwon off.

"The zoo was perfect Jungwon, you don't have to do anything else. Today was perfect already." Jungwon shushed you as he led you into the building, his manager staying behind. Leading you to the elevators he pressed a button before getting on, waiting for the doors to close behind the both of you before he continued to speak.

"You've supported me throughout this whole journey. Pushing me to audition when I was too nervous, and didn't think that I would make it. When I got accepted into I-Land you supported me even when I was leaving you in the middle of the school year, texted me every night to let me know that you were watching and were always rooting for me. Knowing how proud I was making you when the thought of me debuting wasn't official helped me work harder, and continue to push myself," He got cut off as the elevator dinged, signaling that you were at your floor. Jungwon pulled you off the elevator towards a set of stairs that led to a door labeled roof. Jungwon turned towards you, his face deathly serious causing you to get a lot nervous at the sudden sober move.

"Before we go out there I just wanted to tell you that I am grateful that you are in my life. I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you, constantly supporting me throughout everything. You are what has pushed me this far bugs, and I love you. You're my best friend and I owe you so much for constantly being there." You smiled, ignoring the pain in your chest. Of course he'd only think of you as his best friend, there's no way he'd see you as anything else.

"Of course Jungwon. You can't put it all on me, you worked hard to get to where you are. I'm proud of you because you constantly push yourself, not because you've been successful. You'll always be my Jungwon even if you wouldn't debuted with Enhypen, and I would've always been proud of you." Red dusted over Jungwon's cheeks as he smiled shyly, before opening the roof door and pushing you in front of him.

You were left speechless at the sight in front of you. Blankets laid out over the ground, picnic baskets placed in the middle to prevent the wind from blowing them away. Pastel pink flowers spread out being blown lightly by the wind but not leaving the roof. Fairy lights spread out emitting a soft golden glow barely recognizable under the setting sun. Clouds flitting over the pink, and orange sky. Adding on to the beautiful aesthetic of the set up.

What truly had your attention was the rest of his members standing around the blankets, signs being held out at arm's length. Their various expressions showed excitement, minus Niki who tried to look emotionally detached from the situation but was bouncing on his toes, practically jumping.

From tomorrow,

I'll protect you

All Day and Night

Now Lean on Me

Will you go out with me Bugs?

Hot tears pricked at your eyes, a thick lump in your throat growing. All of their expressions morphed into worry, Niki had even stopped bouncing on his toes, Heeseung glanced at Jungwon slight panic evident in his face. A loud sob left your mouth as you turned around and threw yourself onto Jungwon, tossing your arms around his neck. A nervous laugh left his mouth as he slid his around your waist, holding you almost protectively.

Jungwon pulled away from you, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks, attempting to wipe the river of tears away.

"These are happy tears right?" A weak smile spread across your lips, nodding slowly at him. Seeing his smile come back full force, dimples showing happily. Vines loosening around your heart for the first time in months, falling away as they disintegrated. Petals evaporating leaving behind only fresh air in your lungs, breathes flowing freely as you stared at Jungwon. Boba eyes staring back at you, only showing love. His thumbs stopped wiping as he leaned forward barely, glancing at your lips briefly.

"Can I kiss you?" You eagerly hummed, a soft yes being your answer.

Jungwon leaned forward, leaving space for you to back out if you were too overwhelmed. You met his lips, inciting cheers and groans from the members present, seeing their leader kissing his best friend. Your lips moved in sync, one more thing you guys did perfect together. You must admit, the taste of salt from your cheers, along with the dramatic cheers from his members did not make for the best first kiss experience. Especially for a first kiss that you had fantasized and imagined about for years.

Knowing that was only the first of many however, made it all the sweeter.

#kpopcatalog #enhypen #enhypen fluff #Jungwon enhypen #Jungwon fluff #heeseung #Kpop #Kpop fluff #Kpop fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #enhypen angst #Kpop angst

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youidiotprince · 5 years ago

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hi! do you have any sobbe headcanons? everyone is talking about skam france and elu and it makes me miss sobbe even more.

lmao I feel this. since elu got a pet (if only for a few hours and I’m still so bothered by that), let’s talk about Robbe and Sander getting a pet!

A few months after Robbe and Sander move in together once Robbe starts University, they decide to get a puppy. It’s mostly Robbe’s idea bc he’s always wanted one but was never allowed to have one bc his papa thought it would be “too much stress on the family.” Robbe and Sander take a few trips to some local animal shelters, revisiting them each a couple of times to try to find the perfect dog for their family. Robbe ends up getting attached to quite a few of them, but Sander hasn’t really connected with any of them yet, and Robbe can tell. He knows all he has to do is say “I want this one” and Sander will agree to whichever one he chooses, but Robbe wants Sander to be just as excited as he is.

He’s growing more and more discouraged the longer they go without adopting one, feeling like maybe Sander just doesn’t want a dog, but then they go back to one of the animal shelter’s they haven’t visited as much and find out that they’ve recently put a new puppy up for adoption. She’s the only one of the litter they were able to locate, so they’re not sure what her story is, but she’s healthy and sweet, if a little bit shy. Robbe’s excited to meet her.

When they go back to, Robbe’s instantly intrigued by her. She’s a terrier mix of some sort, but they’re not sure exactly what. She has fluffy golden fur sprinkled with black to add texture and character, and she has big, warm brown eyes. Robbe squats down in front of her enclosure, sticking his fingers through the fence that stands between them so he can touch her, if she wants. She walks over to him slowly, almost lazily, sniffing at his hand when she finally reaches him before giving him a soft, sweet lick. Then, she sits down right where she is and looks up at Sander, those big brown eyes staring up at him. Robbe looks up at him, too, and Sander, looking awestruck, murmurs, “She kind of has your eyes, Robbe.”

“What, my puppy eyes?” Robbe teases, giving Sander his best sad pleading puppy look. Sander snorts and kneels down beside Robbe, holding his own hand up to the fence. she trots over to him excitedly, sniffing much more energetically at his hand, tail wagging already. Robbe can’t even bring himself to be jealous that she already likes Sander more bc the look in Sander’s eyes silences him. He looks so vulnerable, eyes full of surprise that she’s so happy to see him, that she could like him so much without even knowing him.

He raises those raw, surprised eyes to Robbe’s and declares, “She is the one,” and Robbe’s already nodding his head with a happy grin, bc of course she is, and Robbe tilts his head adorably at Sander and responds, “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” Sander’s lips turn up into a grin that almost rivals Robbe’s, and he turns back to their puppy, who’s still wagging her tail at him with such force that it rocks her whole body. Before they leave, they start the paperwork so that the shelter will hold her for them as they get their apartment ready for her.

In a few days, they bring her home for the first time, Sander cradling her in his arms. They’ve decided to name her Rebel, and she now wears a rainbow collar with a tag that labels her as theirs, their Rebel. They bought her a dark purple bed that’s basically an oversized pillow, though they know she’ll end up sleeping in bed with them anyway. She’s nervous when they first set her down in her new home, following Sander around at his heels, but she warms up to it pretty quickly and starts to explore, a little bundle of curiosity. They give her her first toy, a plush microphone they saw at the pet store and just had to buy, and she trots around the living room with it in her mouth, seeming proud, holding her head high.

For the first month of having her, it feels like they’re always on the internet looking up tricks for training puppies, and when they’re not on the internet looking them up, they’re trying to apply them in real world, doing their best to train her on their own. It’s going well, she responds to her name, she knows a few basic commands, but they’re struggling the most with house training her. Every time they seem to be making progress, she’ll have an accident on the kitchen floor or right next to the door or, worse yet, the carpeted floor of their bedroom. They’re both starting to grow frustrated, wondering if they’re doing something wrong or if maybe they just aren’t cut out to be pet owners. But every time they start to feel like they want to give up, she comes galloping over to one of them, tail wagging with her whole body, smothering them in kisses and gentle little nibbles, and they know there’s no way they could ever give up on her.

It’s been a few weeks since Rebel’s last accident, so they’re starting to feel like maybe they actually succeeded and she’s outgrown that phase. They’re lying in bed together one Thursday evening before going to sleep, Rebel acting more rambunctious and playful than usual at this hour as she runs back and forth between them, diving for their hands, their noses, anything she can nibble at, having more and more fun with the game the more they flinch or move their hands and faces away from her. They’re laughing at each other’s jerky movements, taking a special thrill from every time the other gets a particularly strong bite from her, goading each other with taunts like, “Come on, it doesn’t hurt that bad,” until the other is made to eat his words when she comes back and bites him. Despite the pain, they’re having just as much fun as she is.

They finally get a reprieve from her reign of terror when she goes down to the foot of the bed, sniffing around their ankles, which are tucked safely under the comforter. “I love nights like this,” Robbe says through a lazy, content smile. “Me too,” Sander answers, leaning forward to kiss Robbe through their smiles. They both let themselves get lost in the kiss until Robbe starts to feel something wet and warm against his foot, seeping through the blanket and sheet. Alarmed, he jerks away from Sander, looking towards the end of the bed, and sure enough, Rebel’s there, squatting just above his foot.

“Fuck, Sander, she’s peeing!” Robbe shouts as he grabs her around the waist and jumps out of bed, stumbling as he gets caught in the blankets. Sander rolls out of bed to the other side, landing on all fours as he scrambles to his feet. Once Robbe’s out of bed, he starts hopping around on one foot, his unsoiled foot, and he’s barking at Sander to grab the blankets off the bed before it seeps through to the mattress. Sander acts as quickly as he can, ripping the sheets and blanket from the bed and dropping them in a messy bundle on the floor, wrestling with the fitted sheet bc it’s caught on the corner of the bed farthest from where he’s standing. He yanks on it as hard as he can, and finally it gives way, forcing him to stumble backwards a few steps before falling on his butt.

He can’t help it anymore, he bursts out laughing in a loud, uncontrollable kind of way. In a hiccuping, gasping for air kind of way. Robbe, still balancing on one foot, snaps, “Sander, this isn’t funny!”

Between laughs, Sander barely manages to get out, “Robbe [gasp for breath] she peed on your foot!” Robbe looks from the innocent, nervous looking puppy in his hands, to his raised, peed-on foot, to his boyfriend, who’s a mess of hysterical laughter on the ground, and Robbe can’t help himself either. He collapses to the floor beside Sander, laughing so hard now that he can barely breathe.

“If you think it’s so funny,” Robbe gasps out, “then you can clean off my foot.” He stretches his soiled foot towards Sander, who shrieks and shoves it away, only making them both laugh harder. Robbe moves to bury his face in Sander’s chest, the both of them laughing against each other now, tangling together. Rebel’s sniffing around them nervously, not able to tell if what’s happening is a good thing or a bad thing. She starts to yip, which draws Robbe and Sander our of their giggle fit a bit, and their laughter slowly starts to trickle off.

“We need to take her out to make sure she’s finished,” Robbe says finally, panting a bit as he recovers.

“I’ll do it,” Sander says as he kisses Robbe’s cheek. “You have to go take care of your pee foot.” He shoots Robbe a teasing look that earns him a shove in return. Sander just laughs as he picks Rebel up and heads out of the room to take her out.

Robbe hops to the bathroom, where he rinses off his foot with some soap and water and dries it with one of the towels that are hanging up. He’s not sure if it’s his or Sander’s, but he gets a wicked grin at the thought of it being Sander’s. He goes back to the bedroom to gather the soiled bedding into a bag they can take to the laundromat the next morning. When Sander and Rebel come back inside, Sander helps Robbe make the bed with a fresh set of sheets and a throw blanket from the couch. They curl up together in the cool crisp feel of them, Rebel now lying peacefully between their legs like usual, bladder empty.

“I thought we were making progress,” Robbe says softly, feeling disappointed and discouraged all over again, now that he’s come off the high from all of his laughter a bit.

“We are,” Sander reassures him, placing a kiss to Robbe’s shoulder through the fabric of his t-shirt. “This was just a minor hiccup. They happen. We’ll get there, eventually. Together.” It’s the reminder of “together” that succeeds in reassuring Robbe, because when they’re together, even the lowest of lows don’t feel that low. Even getting peed on by his own dog can be funny, with Sander there beside him, laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. So, as Robbe places a kiss of his own to the top of Sander’s head, he echoes Sander’s last word back to him.

“Together.”

#wtfock #wtfam #headcanon #anon #robbe x sander #wtfock fic #wtfock ficlet #wtfock drabble

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whatarubberchicken · 5 years ago

Text

The Bodyguard’s Tale -Chapter 5

The sh*t hath hit-ith the fan... ith.

<<Previous - Ao3 or ff.net - Next>>

Chapter 5

It took two more days for the accursed heat—or rut or whatever, Keith had already decided he hated it—to run its course. That was two days of pain and longing and loneliness—Lance didn’t make another appearance, and when Shiro was able to come see him, he kept his visits short because Keith got more and more snappy as the days went by.

Finally, he was able to resume his duties, with no small amount of relief. (And maybe it was just his imagination, but Hunk looked relieved too. Apparently, Lance had been extra snippy as well.) To his surprise, Lance actually gave him the silent treatment for a whole day, even after Keith tried to apologize for what had happened.

The day after that, he went to the prince’s chambers, fully intending to clear the air. Nothing major, he could do this. He just had to explain that he hadn’t been in his right mind, and nothing they’d said or done should be—Wait, where was Lance?

He wasn’t in his room.

He wasn’t in any of his usual haunts in the castle.

“Lance?”

Keith was starting to get nervous. Had Lance actually been kidnapped? During his time here, he’d been led to believe that nobody hated the royal family and his job was purely for ceremony! Surely—

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro called cheerfully, strolling down the halls with another ambassador. Keith wasn’t sure if their name was really Pidge or something else, he couldn’t figure this person out. (But they were from Olkarion, so maybe that was the point? The Olkari did love their puzzles….) “I thought you were with Lance.”

“I’m looking for Lance,” Keith corrected. “Have you seen him?”

The two ambassadors shared an ‘eek’ look.

“He was heading for the space port,” Pidge said. “Said he was meeting you there.”

“Oh, quiznak.” Keith took off running. Once he got to the space port, he searched every passenger vehicle he could find, praying that Lance hadn’t gotten a note from somebody claiming to be Keith so they could kidnap him and—wait, weren’t those the new prototypes King Alfor was designing?

Keith paused in his search to look more carefully. Why was the blue one activated?

Blue just happened to be Lance’s favorite color….

He raced over and entered the giant blue lion (Alfor had said they were a tribute to some kind of ancient Altean lion god or something) just before the jaw snapped shut. Even though Keith had never been in a ship like this before, he somehow knew exactly where to go.

Sure enough, there was Lance, sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“WHAT do you think you are doing?!” Keith snapped, storming up behind him.

Lance looked surprised to see him. “Aww, Blue, why’d you let him in?”

“Are you talking to the ship?!”

“Of course,” Lance said, stroking the side of the chair lovingly. “My pretty girl is very sensitive, you know. Not everybody sees me as ‘just their job.’”

Keith facepalmed. “We’re not even going to delve into everything that’s wrong with that statement—just, get up, we’re leaving.”

“No way!” Lance said, settling himself deeper into the seat. “I was just getting a feel for her!” He grabbed the controls.

“Lance, this is a prototype that your father has been working on for decaphoebs!” Keith pointed out. “Even if he gave you permission to fly it, which he won’t, it’s not equipped for—”

The rest of his statement was cut off by a loud roar, and then Keith was forced to grab onto the back of Lance’s chair as the lion blasted off. Lance whooped with excitement as the space port dwindled away behind them. With so many loops and swoops, even without gravity, Keith was starting to get a little dizzy.

“You are the worst pilot ever!!” he yelled, his teeth jarring together as Lance grazed yet another asteroid. “Did you even take a class on how to fly one of these things?!”

“Of course not!” Lance shouted back, not an inch of remorse in his tone. “As you said, they’re prototypes! And it’s almost like it’s on autopilot—”

“AUTOPILOT AROUND THAT MOON, THEN!!”

“WHOOPS!” The Blue Lion lurched out of the way at the very last second. “Oof, that could’ve been bad.”

“BAD?! YOU ALMOST FLATTENED US!”

“Relax, Keithy! Has anyone ever told you you’re a very uptight kinda guy?” Lance teased, glancing up at Keith from where he still had a firm grip on the controls. “Hey, I know! Let’s take this baby to the Space Mall!”

“La-ance,” Keith groaned, but there was nothing he could do. Blue didn’t respond when he tried to wrench the controls away from Lance. And that was when he remembered King Alfor’s speech about how these ships would choose their own pilots: if you could get it to start, you could have it. But he didn’t think the king meant for his son to take the thing joyriding! Ugh, maybe he could spin this as some sort of training exercise?!

And secondly, he was kind of offended that Lance still considered him uptight. He’d loosened up a lot since he’d come to live on Altea! Didn’t Lance remember the Klanmüirls? Or the narwhals? None of the other Galra Commanders he knew would ever stand for that sort of thing!

The next thing he knew, they were actually at the Space Mall and Lance was getting out. Great. How was this his life? The good part was, they didn’t need to lock anything, because the Blue Lion put up a particle barrier as soon as they were clear, the bad part was… well, Lance in a space mall was like a kid in a candy store.

He wanted to go everywhere. At light speed.

After the fifth time Lance ran away from him, though, Keith was starting to sense a pattern: light speed was only being used to get away from his bodyguard. He quickly grabbed the prince in the hallway before he could dart off again.

“Look, I get that you’re mad at me—” he started.

“What?! Mad at you? Why, in all the cosmos, would I be mad at you, Keithy?!” Lance said, loudly and sarcastically.

Keith felt his eye twitch. “Can we not do this in public, please?” he asked quietly.

“Why not? Am I making you uncomfortable? Am I—” To Keith’s surprise, Lance cut himself off with a deep breath and a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I just thought….” He trailed off with another sigh.

“You just thought what?” Keith asked, curious at the way Lance was blushing. No, surely not….

“Nevermind,” Lance said. He spotted something over Keith’s shoulder. “WHAT is THAT??” he exclaimed, pointing. Keith turned to look, only to find himself being pulled into a shop that sold all kinds of things. Knick-knacks, appliances, you name it. And it all came from—

“Earth?!” he exclaimed, as the salesman tried to get them interested in a strange-looking water fountain that doubled as a chair. “All of this comes from Earth??” He was suddenly much more interested in the merchandise. And, oh man, they HAD to get Shiro something!

Lance, meanwhile, was enamored with a large, benign-looking animal that stared out at them peacefully and occasionally said, “Moo.”

“I love her!” he squealed, hugging the animal. “I’m going to take her, and keep her, and hug her, and—”

“That there is a Kaltenecker,” the salesman said proudly. “One free with every purchase!”

Lance’s eyes gleamed.

“You can get ONE!” Keith said quickly, before Lance could buy out the whole store. Lance pouted, but Keith stood firm. “One for now,” he negotiated. “Just to make sure you can take care of her and she doesn’t come with any weird… surprises.”

After a bit more whining, Lance agreed, and for their purchase, they bought Shiro a rectangle with some weird drawings on it that the salesman insisted was an entertainment box. (Keith didn’t see how such a thing would be entertaining, but maybe Shiro would know how to work it.)

Then, Lance was starving, and they had to get some food. Keith agreed, but he didn’t think Kaltenecker enjoyed Lance’s attempts to serve her whatever Vrepit Sal’s had given them. He also had no idea what she was chewing on….

“Is that a cow?” they heard a familiar voice exclaim. Keith and Lance looked over, and sure enough, there was Shiro, heading straight for them. Followed closely by Pidge and an irate-looking Hunk.

“She’s my new Kaltenecker!” Lance said proudly.

“Kaltenecker?” Shiro repeated, looking at Keith.

“I don’t know,” he said, throwing his hands up helplessly. “It doesn’t seem like it’s gonna eat him, so I figured it’d be okay.”

Shiro at least had the decency to laugh into his hand.

“Oh man,” Hunk said, also examining the creature, “I dunno how this is gonna do in the Klanmüirl enclosure, but hey, I’m sure we’ll work something out.” He turned to Lance. “So, bad news, your dad says you’re grounded.”

“Awww,” Lance groaned.

“And good news, he’s so stoked you got a Lion running, it’s probably not gonna be for long,” Hunk continued.

“Yes!” Lance fist-pumped.

“More good news, you activating a Lion seems to have kicked them all into gear, because the Yellow one chose me, and Green chose Pidge here.”

Beside him, Pidge waved absently, looking more interested in the little box they’d gotten for Shiro.

“REALLY?” Lance looked delighted.

“Yeah, so as soon as you get home, we’re gonna have to do a bunch of tests and stuff, but until then, more bad news…,” Hunk bit his lip and looked uncertain. “You guys didn’t just happen to bring Allura with you, did you? ‘Cause nobody can find her or Lotor anywhere.”

Lance sat straight up. “Allura’s missing?!”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hunk said, waving his hand dismissively. “More importantly, what the heck are you guys eating? Is that even food?!” He examined their lunch with expressions that ranged from “interested” to “horrified.”

Lance and Keith exchange a glance that needed no words. Their siblings weren’t the type to just go off without any warnings to anybody, that was their MO. Allura and Lotor were too… responsible. Whatever had happened….

“You’re right, Hunk,” Lance said, quickly. “Let’s get some real food back at the castle! I wanna see who else gets a Lion. You want one, Keithy? You know you do!” he teased.

“No, I’ve got my hands full with you,” Keith grumbled. (Yes, he did. He really did. He’d seen how quickly and effortlessly Blue had responded to Lance’s handling and he was certain he could do better…. Oh, how he wanted a chance!)

“How about you, Shiro?” Lance was asking, talking fast to cover up his nervousness about his sister’s disappearance.

“I thought I felt something from the Black one,” Shiro admitted, still absently petting Kaltenecker. “But King Alfor assured me it wouldn’t move until the others were paired off. Something about it being the leader.”

“Cool! Well, lead on, Captain, Sir!”

“Ha ha, Lance,” Shiro said dryly, as they all headed back towards the entrance. “Tell me, what are you going to do with a cow, anyway?”

“I dunno,” Lance said, giving it another hug. “What do you usually do with cows?”

“I could teach you how to milk it.”

“Really?! What’s that?”

Shiro’s explanation left Keith a little weirded out, but Lance seemed eager enough to try. Not that he got much of a chance. After flying the three Lions back to Altea, they were greeted by an excited crowd in the Lions’ hangar at the space port, all of them eager to try for the remaining two. Black and Red’s shields remained up, however, even when Lance tried to push his way to the front of the crowd.

Keith, already nervous about potential assassins in this crowd, got the signal from Alfor to get his son out of there, and quickly pulled Lance away. It didn’t matter if the prince was complaining that he could hold his own. Nor did it matter that Hunk and Pidge had carefully separated themselves already to try to take control of this mess. Even the fact that Keith could hear a low rumbling in the back of his brain that sounded like purring when he looked at the Red Lion… his first and only priority was Lance’s safety. Altea had already lost its heir today, they didn’t need to lose the spare too.

Fortunately, the king and queen joined them in Lance’s room soon after, before Keith and Shiro ran out of ways to keep him distracted. Queen Melenor ran straight to Lance and threw her arms around him, sobbing. That was the first indication they’d gotten that something was truly wrong.

“We thought maybe Lance had convinced Allura to take him with her,” Alfor said, looking pale and shaken. He laid a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Thank you for always taking such good care of my son.”

“Sir?” he said, unable to keep his questioning tone to himself.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked, his voice wavering as he started to panic. “Where’s Allura? Mom?! Dad?!”

“All we found was a note!” Queen Melenor burst into tears again and hugged Lance even tighter.

“It seems she and Prince Lotor have spent their time together—when they were supposed to be courting—researching how to get to Oriande,” Alfor said, regretfully shaking his head.

“Oriande?” Lance yelped. “But that’s—that’s a myth!” Keith could tell: now Lance was truly panicking. “And, even if it wasn’t, all the stories say it’s a… a….”

“A one-way journey,” Alfor finished for him. “Which is why, if we don’t find them soon, we may have to declare your sister missing… indefinitely.”

“NO!” Lance cried, wrenching himself away from his mother. Keith quickly caught him in his arms—not tight enough to cage, just enough to ground him—and led him over to a small padded bench nearby. Lance sat, still shaking his head in denial but not trying to get away from Keith. “No, no, no… there’s has to be way—the Lions! Dad, could we use the Lions to get to her?!”

“We don’t even know which way they’ve gone,” Alfor reminded him sadly. “I, too, looked for Oriande in my youth, but I never even came close. I finally forced myself to abandon the hunt when your mother became pregnant. And now, I—” the poor king swallowed and looked away, “I regret every bedtime story I ever told you two about that place.”

Both Lance and Queen Melenor hurried to reassure their king that, no, none of this was his fault. They loved him and they’d get through this as a family. Meanwhile, Keith stood off to the side, watching silently.

Lotor. Lotor was missing too, but instead of being anxious or worried about him, all Keith could think was, ‘Dammit, brother! You’re going to cost us the alliance! What were you thinking?!’

Was that normal? Surely, he should be upset, right? Crying and worried about his family like Lance? Why—why wasn’t he?

He heard Shiro come up behind him and looked over when he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Shiro asked.

Keith thought about it for a moment. “I’m worried about Allura,” he finally confessed. “And I’m a little annoyed at Lotor. I’m sure he talked her into it, after all. He’s been obsessed with Altean lore ever since we were kids.” He looked at his friend. “Is that…? Shouldn’t I be worried, or panicking, or something? I mean—” Keith faltered. “He’s my brother! I’ve always been loyal, to him and the Empire, but…. Is there something wrong with me?”

“I doubt it,” Shiro said, the knowing smile back on his face. “Think about it. If it was Lance who was missing, what would you do?”

“I’d pull out all the stops to find him immediately,” Keith said, not even having to think about it. “I’d use every resource I had until I found him. No matter how long it took.” His chest constricted painfully just thinking about a scenario like that.

Shiro was giving him that look that said he was almost there in getting the correct answer; he just needed to dig a little deeper. Keith thought about it.

“But… that’s just because he’s my responsibility, isn’t it?” he asked, almost desperately. “It doesn’t mean anything….”

Shiro gave him a much softer smile, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “I didn’t say anything about that,” he pointed out. “But fine, if you want to play that game, imagine if Lance wasn’t your responsibility. Would you still feel the same?”

“I—I don’t know!” Keith exclaimed, much too loudly. It caught the attention of the royal family, who realized the two were still in the room with them.

“Think about it,” Shiro whispered, as King Alfor made his way over to them.

“Ah, Prince Keithyr,” he said uneasily. Keith winced. Oh, right. Now that Lotor was gone, he was expected to take on ambassador duties for the Empire, wasn’t he? This was gonna get awkward. “Our most humble apologies and deepest condolences go out to you and the Empire as well. Forgive me my momentary lapse in protocol—”

Yep. Super awkward.

“Please, your majesty,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall any further ‘niceties.’ “You don’t ever need to apologize to me. Officially, I can’t apologize to you either, but—” he sighed, “unofficially, I want to kick my brother in the….” He trailed off with a vague handwave, very aware that it was against protocol to swear in front of the local monarch.

“Quiznak?” King Alfor finished for him with a small smile.

Keith shrugged helplessly. Yeah. That. Thank God the Alteans had come up with such an all-inclusive word.

“I’ll need to get ahold of the Emperor, to see how he wants to handle all of this….” Ugh, his list of responsibilities had just grown exponentially!

“Yes, I’ll need to make a statement as well…,” King Alfor trailed off, no doubt making his own list of new duties in the light of this tragedy.

Keith only half-paid attention, he kept glancing at Lance. For any other disaster, he’d be over there, making sure the prince was comfortable and didn’t do anything stupid… maybe offer him a friendly shoulder to cry on, or a bowl of his favorite comfort food. Now, all he could do was watch as Lance buried his face in his hands, trying to stifle his sobs.

And Keith hated it.

#bodyguard AU #klance #voltronsecretsanta2k19 #VLD #stars this got longer than I thought it would

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suga-kookiemonster · 6 years ago

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so i just had this dream that i feel is a obvious representation of how i feel about this fandom, especially after yesterday lol

so me and @bendthekneetobangtan had apparently gone to a bts concert, and we were at some sort of meet and greet-type thing afterwards. except it was in a bar (random bar patrons kept walking by), and we were behind this metal barricade, looking down into this enclosure

yes, i said enclosure. you know when you go to the zoo and some animals aren’t behind glass, but you’re behind a barricade and much more elevated than they are? that was what the room was like (bts was being observed like animals in a fucking zoo, analyze that, my friends 😒)

anyways, we were waiting for the boys to enter the enclosure to say hi. but the rest of the crowd around me was filled with shrieking girls who just kept yelling even though there was nothing to even yell at. i was getting pissed, because i wanted them to shut the fuck up, and i was getting embarrassed that the other bar patrons would associate me with them

so anyways, namjoon entered the room. the crowd went wild. he entered close to my side, so i just nonsensically stuck my hand out over the barricade...but he took it. he looked me in the eye and smiled a dimply smile and took my hand before waving goodnight to everybody else and leaving. i was SHOOK

well, the other members started to enter the enclosure too. taehyung was there. all the crazy fans we were with saw the rest of the group coming and started leaning over the barricade, copying what i had just done. except there was a lot more of us this time, and we were heavy. the metal barricade started to bend forward 😱 luckily it didn’t snap, but it bent everybody, including me, really far forward, and i almost faceplanted into this enclosure in front of bts. i somehow managed to right myself, but when i looked up, taehyung was hustling OUTTA there and i honestly didn’t blame him because these hoes were clearly crazy and they almost killed us all 😭😭😭😭

anyways, i was livid about the whole ordeal afterward so MJ bought me one of those giant margaritas with the mini bottle of tequila stuck in it to make me feel better ☠️☠️☠️

#as you can see...my subconscious is clearly on to something lol #that interview from yesterday really triggered me huh 😬#bae #mine

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iris-writes-things · 6 years ago

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To Hell And Back

Read it on AO3, FF.net, or under the cut!

Warning: Major (temporary) character death.

After standing up to Satan himself in the Apocalypse That Wasn’t, Crowley was made mortal while Hell bought itself some time to come up with an extra special punishment. However, as Aziraphale reminded him, mortals are eligible for redemption. And so, the race to redeem Anthony J Crowley begins.

It had been a week after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't when Crowley and Aziraphale heard back from their respective superiors. To say the aftermath of the botched Armageddon had been a wild ride would have been the understatement of the century so far. But with ten more years of said century to go, anything could happen.

Aziraphale’s superiors had been quite pleased with his bravery, and had given him a commendation for standing up to Satan himself with only his sword in his hands and a demon who forgot his loyalties* to fight by his side.

(*This, Aziraphale knew to be untrue, as the angel was well aware that Crowley was only loyal to himself and his friends.**)

(**Which was a convenient shorthand for, and a less desperate sounding alternative to "Aziraphale".)

Crowley's superiors on the other hand… not so much. Not that he was surprised. No, he fully expected them to not appreciate his little revolt. He was, however, surprised he wasn't just discorporated on the spot by a stray bolt of lightning, or simply wiped out of all existence.

Instead, he was demoted. Not even a little bit demoted. No, demoted all the way. Damned to live out the rest of his days as a mortal, human man, stripped of all his demonic powers and attributes, while Hell bought itself some time to cook up an extra special punishment for him when his time did come.

Aziraphale, however, was more optimistic about Crowley's predicament than the man himself.

"Come now, dear. It's not so bad..." Aziraphale said in a tone Crowley knew was meant to comfort him. It didn't.

The angel placed a warm hand on his own and looked a little deeper into Crowley’s eyes than he remembered him ever looking in them when they still had their serpentine look to them. They were a rich, chocolate brown now, and every morning Crowley spent an embarrassing amount of time staring in them through the mirror, telling himself that they took some getting used to.

Maybe it was just the lack of his sunglasses, which he had accidentally left in his flat for the first time ever. The world seemed just that little brighter and more intense without them, but the now mortal demon could not afford to bask in the glory of it. In fact, he couldn't afford much of anything at all.

"What do you mean, 'it's not so bad'?! I can't instantaneously sober up anymore, I can't drive, speaking of which, I have to push the Bentley to the nearest petrol station to get it to run at all, I can't cook and I can't eat at any of my usual places without seriously breaking the bank, and then there's my flat! My ridiculously expensive flat! And my plants! I have to get a job now, Aziraphale! And did I not tell you every single possibility of what might happen to me if-- when I die?!"

"Only in excruciating detail."

"Then why aren't you concerned?!"

"A job just opened up at the boutique next door. Vintage fashion. All unique items salvaged from garage sales and the like, sold for an immense profit. It seemed right up your alley to me, so I told them you'd like to drop by for an interview tomorrow at 2 o'clock." The angel beamed, obviously very satisfied with himself.

"But--" Crowley attempted to self sabotage.

"No diplomas or previous retail experience required. They only want to know if you're stylish and snarky enough for them and I think you've got that covered. You're welcome. As for Hell… You're a human now, Crowley. That means you're eligible for redemption. Just be good, maybe do some charity work and you might not have to fear what your former colleagues have in store for you."

"Thanks, angel." Crowley smiled, full of hope for the first time since this whole ordeal started.

"Always happy to help."

The following day at 2 o’clock, Crowley went to his job interview. He was hired on the spot on the merit of his amicably judgmental nature and his sense of style. Incidentally, he had also found out where Aziraphale had acquired a substantial part of his collection of tacky bow ties. He made a mental note of it to hide the rack every time the angel entered the shop. Enough is enough.

Unsurprisingly, Crowley began to like his new job. The people who came to the boutique to shop were his people after all. Young, trendy, ambitious. The kind of people he spent the last six millennia nudging and probing, slowly winning souls for his master. It almost made him feel nostalgic. Almost.

Because he could now unashamedly spend time with Aziraphale. It was only a short trip to the apartment over the bookshop next door, where the two more often than not had lunch together, and spent many an evening learning to cook for themselves. Crowley out of necessity, Aziraphale mostly to humour Crowley.

Aziraphale loved having the other around more often. Sure, he was used to not have Crowley around at all times, but he knew, now that Crowley was made mortal, they didn't have much time left. 80 years, if they were so lucky, was only the blink of an eye compared to the 6,000 years they had been friends. That's why he planned to make the most of it.

Once Crowley had reached a level of financial stability both the angel and the fledgling human were satisfied with, Aziraphale decided it was time for Crowley to start doing some volunteer work. After all, if he managed to get the man into Heaven, he could at least visit him after it happened.

Spending time with the elderly at a nearby nursing home, playing board games, going for walks and the like, had been a raving success, but the director*** didn't appreciate how taken the old ladies were with Crowley's charms and swiftly sent the two away. And where Crowley’s snarky sense of humour was applauded at the boutique, it wasn't as welcome at the food bank.

(*** Who strongly suspected that the two had only come to swindle the dementing women out of their pensions...)

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a much needed sigh.

"There has to be something you're good at that you like doing and will also redeem you." The angel mumbled as he paced back and forth on the hardwood floor of his bookshop, quickly swiping a bottle of wine from Crowley's hands before he could get wasted.

Crowley only groaned.

"Can't I just go to church and confess and clear my name like that?" He suggested.

"Technically yes, but no. You and the priest will be long dead before you make it through the fourteenth century."

"For fuck's sake, that wasn't on me!"

"Dear, please..." Aziraphale urged, shooting the man a sharp glare.

"I like my plants..." Crowley mumbled meekly. All this talk of dying and going to heaven had him more on-edge than ever before, and the last thing he wanted was to snap at his best and only friend. "I'm pretty good with those… And animals. I like animals. Like that poor dove you smothered in your sleeve, at Warlock’s birthday party?"

"I remember." The angel said, a fond, hopeful smile creeping to his features as he remembered the demon breathing new life into the squished bird. "How about an animal shelter?"

The animals at the shelter took surprisingly well to Crowley. The dogs liked his company, and the cats seemed to not hate him. The reptiles and amphibians seemed satisfied, yet ultimately indifferent, while the rabbits and other small mammals cowered in the corners of their respective enclosures the second he walked in the door.****

(**** This was no surprise to Crowley and Aziraphale. Sure, Hell had taken away his snake-like attributes, but old habits die hard.)

The other volunteers liked him decidedly better than the rodents did; after all, he did the chores he was given and did them well. When he manned the front desk, he talked to the visitors and answered phone calls in the same saccharine tone he did to his old superiors, he shovelled poop like nobody's business and, without having been asked, Crowley reorganized and digitized all of the records in such a way that anyone could find anything at any time.

One volunteer had asked out of curiosity where the man had acquired his administrative skills, but laughed it off when Crowley simply answered "Hell".

But, as with most people who lived fast, Crowley also died young. He had been in a heated argument over the phone with a frequent customer of the boutique as he was crossing Oxford Street, overlooking a speed demon in a Corvette that was doing 60 miles per hour. It was nowhere near his own record, but nevertheless, more than his human internal organs could handle in a frontal collision.

And Aziraphale… Aziraphale was devastated.

He wasn't devastated quite yet when he stumbled upon an enormous crowd effectively blocking the sidewalks of Oxford street. He was trying to get back to his bookshop for Crowley’s lunch break, holding a grocery bag in each hand.

"Excuse me, may I pass, please? Some of us have somewhere to be." Aziraphale said as he wormed his way through the crowd. However, when he finally popped out the other end, nearly spraining his ankle as he slipped on the edge of the sidewalk, he realized that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

"Crowley!" He cried before he dropped his groceries and dashed over to his motionless friend, sprawled on the street like a limp ragdoll whose master was done playing with him. Eggs cracked in their cartons and a lone apple rolled across the street. "No, no, no, no..." The angel chanted to himself as he ran, a painful burn spreading through his leg. He didn't care. What mattered now, was Crowley.

Aziraphale kneeled beside him, carefully taking hold of the man's upper body and cradled him to his chest as he ignored the police officers’ protests and the blur of his watering eyes. He had to focus. He squeezed his eyes shut and clung to Crowley’s body, trying to conjure up a miracle. Though, however vast the power of an angel may be, there were certain boundaries to what they could do with their magic, and raising the dead was far beyond that boundary. So when Crowley’s heart didn't start beating again within thirty seconds, that could only mean one thing.

A cry escaped Aziraphale that the angel hadn't thought his corporeal form capable of. It was earth shattering, almost animal and brimming with grief. This entire month he had focused so much on making sure his friend would be okay after his moment came, that he completely ignored his own feelings on the matter.

"No, you can't do this to me, you can't--" The angel cried, finally allowing the tears to spill from his eyes. "Please, don't leave me, my dear..."

Aziraphale gasped when a heavy handed fell onto his shoulder. Through his tears, he looked up at the police officer the hand belonged to. A friendly looking, mustachioed, older gentleman.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir." The police officer said in a vaguely northern accent.

Aziraphale nodded and looked down, mumbling a small "Thank you". His sad look quickly became a furious glare, however, when he noticed the hands of a coroner prying at his own. He tried to regain the hold on Crowley, but the policeman caught Aziraphale’s wrists before he had the chance. "Bring him-- Give him back! Don't take him away from me! I didn't… I didn't tell him I love him..."

"I'm sorry, but we have to clear the road." The police officer said as he stood up and helped Aziraphale to his feet as well. "That coroner there will take your friend to the morgue, and I will take you there as well for all the closure you might need, but first I need you to come down to the station with me to answer some questions."

Aziraphale nodded. He knew that a few weeks of volunteer work would never make up for six millennia of 'getting up there and making some trouble’, so the angel did all he could; he prayed.

Crowley squinted as he looked up at the towering, cloaked skeleton, standing in front of him in the middle of Oxford street. He slowly lowered his cell phone, not hearing the beeping that told him the signal was lost.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. "What happened? Why can I see you?"

A bony arm extended a bony hand, which extended a bony finger.

Crowley slowly turned around to follow the motion, terrified of what he may find. A hushed, trembling "No" escaped him.

YES.

"No… No! It can't be! I just started to get the hang of this! It's not fair! I haven't gotten the chance to learn to drive, I haven't gotten the chance to redeem myself, I haven't gotten the chance to--"

Crowley froze in place when he saw Aziraphale break through the crowd that gathered around the scene of the accident. He could only watch as his angel kneeled down by his contorted, bleeding form and cradled Crowley's uninhabited body close to his chest. The cry the angel let out would have sent a shiver down his spine, had he still had one.

I KNOW IT IS UNFAIR, BUT SOMETIMES IT'S JUST LIKE THAT.

Death placed a sympathetic hand on Crowley's shoulder. It was just what he needed as the world and everything he had ever loved faded away.

"I'm sorry, Aziraphale..."

When he arrived in Hell, Crowley had been too heartbroken to fully realize the trouble he found himself in.

“Back so soon?”

Oh no. Not them. Not now.

“Not so tough now, are you? Just a soft, squishy, human soul for us to torture.”

“Though it would have been nice if you’d given us some actual time to come up with a punishment more suited to your treason.”

A dark chuckle escaped Crowley as he slowly regained his composure.

"Hastur, Ligur," he greeted bitterly, "I see the antichrist has been too generous to you. Hi, Dagon."

"Hi."

For a short moment, there was nothing. No one spoke, no one breathed, and in that moment, Crowley was sure no one thought, either.

"So, since you have no punishment suitable for my treachery, surely you're here to see me off back to the surface, correct? Let me live out the rest of my days? Volunteer at the animal shelter some more?" Crowley said, still trying to charm his way out of eternity with these tools.

"Make out with your 'angel'?" Hastur mocked. “Don’t think we didn’t know about that. It was obvious to everyone except for you.”

Ouch. That one cut deep.

"No, we're keeping you down here." Ligur continued. "Seeing as you're already well-versed in Hell's bureaucracy, we figured it might be fun for you to catch up on our paperwork."

"The entire twentieth century.” Hastur gestured enthusiastically. Crowley had never seen this demon so excited about… well, anything, really. “By the time you're through processing all those souls, I'm sure you'll be begging for whatever we've come up with."

The worst part of it was, Crowley was sure of that too.

Despite having a hand in designing post-1950s office spaces, Crowley had never been a fan of them himself. (Secretly,) It was a greater achievement than the M25 London orbital motorway, but he hated them with a fiery passion. They reminded him too much of “home”.

There, he sat at a single desk in a dark cubicle with red lighting that made the walls feel like they were closing in on him, typing away at a near-prehistoric typewriter as he processed all ‘new arrivals’ since 1898. It was almost as if his old colleagues, with some measure of foresight, started slacking off on their paperwork in the event that something like this might happen. It was clever, having this kind of back-up punishment lying around. And it’s not like Hastur or Ligur ever gave a care about all of the souls being held hostage in Limbo until some poor sod* would be tasked with getting all of this done.

(*Read: Crowley)

A groan escaped Crowley at what felt like the millionth case. What time was it? How long had he been here? His jacket had been long abandoned on his chair, and even though he hadn’t seen a mirror since he set foot back in Hell, he knew he looked like a mess. He felt it. His usually perfectly exfoliated skin felt grimy, his hair felt more greasy and unkempt every time he ran his hands through it and he felt an uneven stubble growing from his chin. Something he’d long since forgotten wasn’t exclusive to his corporeal form. He stretched his arms over his head, his back and shoulders popped. Crowley was about to ram his face into the keys of the typewriter when he was interrupted by a deep, buldering voice.

“Anthony James Crowley.”

Crowley’s gaze snapped up. In front of his desk stood the last person he expected. The Metatron. Arms crossed, perpetual look of disapproval plastered on their features.

The ex-demon stuttered. “I-I, uh, how-- How can I help you?” He asked, feeling himself sit up straighter.

“We hate to admit this, but we require your assistance.”

“What?” He asked. “You’re the voice of God for crying out loud! What could you possibly need my help for?”

“We will explain on the way.” The Metatron said and snapped their fingers, leaving only a spinning office chair behind.

It had been a year since Crowley’s untimely death, and Aziraphale still wasn’t taking it well.

Not long after it happened, the angel worked up the nerve to call back a few potential customers to tell them that one book they were looking for had just gone up for sale. With the money he raised, he managed to throw his friend a modest funeral to which he was the only guest. No one from the boutique or the animal shelter seemed to be able to make it. It wouldn’t do much good for Crowley, he knew, but it allowed him some closure. And after six millennia, God knew he needed that.

After that, life was mostly just… boring. He had no one to talk with, to drink with, no one to cook or to sing or to dance with, and without a demon around in close proximity, there wasn’t a whole lot of evil to thwart. And so, most of Aziraphale’s life after Crowley was spent drinking alone, lying in bed to wallow in self pity and praying every minute of every hour of every day that someone, somewhere would be merciful to his precious Crowley.

Until that day, a year after the accident, someone was knocking on his front door. Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to get up, and therefore didn’t, despite the persistent knocking. Knocking turned into banging and after a while, it was quiet. But then the angel heard the deadbolt turn.

This alarmed him enough to get up from his bed, rub the tears from his eyes and crept down the stairs, flaming sword in hand. Aziraphale distinctly remembered placing a charm on the deadbolt. Whoever this was, they weren’t human.

Books shuffled from and to the shelves of the shop as if someone were inspecting them and the angel felt the hands tighten around the handle of his sword. As he slinked along the bookcases, he spotted a figure in front of the bookcase by the till. They wore a light grey suit and hummed merrily as they plucked books from the shelves, examining their covers for a brief moment before putting them back. Out of chronological order.

This, Aziraphale decided, was unforgivable. How dare they do this to him in his time of grief?! He snuck up to the figure and pointed his blade at them before shouting:

"Who do you think you are?!"

The turned around, held up their hands and whimpered at the sight of the sword so close to their face.

"Aziraphale, for fuck's sake, put that thing away!"

The blade dropped to the floor. Flames licking at the old, hardwood panels, but never scorching. Never burning.

The angel took one more step towards the intruder, nearly closing the gap between them. Hands reached for the familiar face in front of him. His eyes started to water as he stared into the other's eyes, now a bright blue to rival his own. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but when the other spoke up, he knew he'd better believe.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Crowley asked. A dull 'oof' was forced from him as a pair of plump arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Don't you ever leave me like that again!" Aziraphale cried into his chest. "Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?!" He said as he pulled back and made a point of it to glare up at the recent reinstated angel.

Crowley glanced away and mumbled. "I have a vague idea..."

"How are you here?" Aziraphale asked as he started to calm down. Tears still flowed from his eyes, but the other bent over to thumb them away.

"It's funny you should ask that." Crowley smiled, all straight white teeth without a single fang in sight. "Apparently your prayers for my sake overloaded all of Above's communications."

"Oh..." Aziraphale mumbled. "That would explain why I haven't heard from them… What happened next?"

"Well," Crowley started, "with all of Heaven's communications on its ass, the Metatron went down into Hell to enlist the help of the one and only you-expert. Me."

"So, what you're saying is… Aziraphale’s prayers for me are blocking everything? Going in and out?"

"That is what we're saying. This cannot go on any longer." The Metatron said monotonously.

"So, what you want to know from me is....?"

"How do we make him stop? How do you stop these little… temper tantrums?" They asked.

‘Temper tantrum’ felt like the wrong wording to Crowley, but he knew he had to think quickly. This was his one ticket out of Hell permanently. A satisfied smile spread across his face as the right words formulated in his head.

"I've found that the most effective way to get him to stop is to simply give him what he wants. I can’t put it any simpler than that." The man said and shrugged casually.

"So you can die again in 80 years and we start this all over again?" The Metatron asked, unamused, raising a single eyebrow. "We shall pass on that."

Crowley winced internally. He was on thin ice, but all wasn't lost yet.

"What if I promise to be really good?" He asked, swaying back and forth on his feet and batting his eyelashes.

"You cannot possibly be suggesting..."

"Oh, but I am. And besides, isn't that a small price to pay for Aziraphale’s silence?" The words felt dirty in his mouth, but it was now or never. Back to Aziraphale or back to Hell.

"Alright, fine." The Metatron huffed, throwing up their arms in exasperation. "Consider it done, just pass on this one message."

"So… they made you an angel and sent you back just to buy my silence?" Aziraphale asked. His eyes narrowed in slight disgust.

This time, it was Crowley who pulled Aziraphale into a hug. "I know, I know. I felt so gross using you as leverage, but I just really wanted to come back to you..."

The smaller angel hushed the other and gently stroked his hair as he returned the embrace. "You're forgiven, Crowley. I missed you..." Aziraphale said. "And I love you. I don't know why it never occurred to me to tell you while you were alive, but..."

Crowley’s hushed "I love you too" had barely been spoken when Aziraphale lunged forward to kiss him. Crowley happily complied and kissed back until Aziraphale pulled away.

"What did the Metatron want you to tell me that they couldn't come down to tell me themselves, anyway?"

"'Shut the Hell up', angel." The angel smirked as he kissed his love again.

#fanfic #Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #I've been trying some new things in terms of pacing and building tension and I'm not sure it's working

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odetoo · 8 years ago

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firelord-frowny replied to your post “Since it’s April the first, I wanna WRITE some short (maybe paragraph…”

a prompt: Ozai and Zuko visit the aquarium.

Here you go @firelord-frowny ^^ hope you like, it ended up being a bit longer than a few paragraphs.. sorry if there are errors in it i missed!

They were trying to get along, after all these years, but it wasn’t going very well as it always did. They were in the middle of an argument about the early hour that Zuko had come home during that morning. …Maybe you wouldn’t feel like shit if you didn’t spend your nights drinking your liver shot… Says the guy who has drank his liver shot already in his life… Thats when Ursa pushed… no she ‘hollered’ her son and her ‘on-and-off’ husband out the door and sent them on a mission to go find some place else to disrupt with their consistent bickering, and to stay out until they ran dry of things to argue about.

They ended up going to that new aquarium downtown that was getting apparently stellar reviews, the one that had critters from the ocean and the fresh water. There wasn’t much to do on an Autumn Sunday mid-morning to begin with. After figuring that out, the rest of the trip across town was pretty quiet. Zuko’s headache rendered him mostly unable to keep a normal small talk going, and Ozai wasn’t much for talk any way.

The father and son got to the aquarium along the river and right away there were too many people for their liking, even on their way inside walking from the parking lot, they noticed this. They got through the double doors and Ozai automatically made his way to the ticket kiosk and got in line. Zuko stood by and waited, his hands were resting in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, his eyes wandered around the lobby, spotting all the things that weren’t people- The decorative vines coiling around the thick wooden columns that held up the walkways full of people the next floor up. They were all contributing to a collaborative chattering white noise which echoed through the Atrium. Trying again to pick out the things that weren’t people, he looked to the upper space of the Atrium to the wide skylights. Blank, gray overcast, it wasn’t people at least. Ozai finally bought the wristband tickets, and walked back over to Zuko, dodging the crowd. He bumped Zuko out of his daze of staring up at the overcast, and handed him one of the purple wristbands made of paper. They spent a few extra minutes in the lobby before making their way into the exhibits, all because Zuko couldn’t figure out how to get the wristband hooked and needed Ozai’s help. “…I figure you would know how to get these things around your wrist after all your late night outings…” Ozai muttered, annoyed, close to his son’s face. Zuko responded with an eye roll and a “Whatever man.”

First were the sea shore and reef exhibits, which were glass tunnels arching over the walk way. The blue behind the glass was full of vibrant schools of fish and vivid clumps of coral. Ozai was enthralled with the mocked palette of the ocean’s ecosystems, silver mackerel swarmed past the glass,color-changing eels peaked out of their hidey-holes and ducked back in at bolting speeds, blue and yellow tangs fluttered above their respective reefs. Zuko had to whisper his father’s name if he stood in one spot to long staring at the plethora of colors on the other side of the glass. Zuko got the point of it and just wanted to push further on down the tunnel, and had to urge Ozai to keep moving with him.

Today was about the fish, not about what he did last night, so he was trying to enjoy himself and not trying to converse with Ozai too much. They walked further down the way and approached a part of the tunnel that transformed into a larger space, or a large glass bubble that held people more like. Quickly, that bubble felt closer to a glass barrier when the silhouettes of sharks passed over them as the two entered the space. They trotted over to an open spot between crowds to peer up at the enormous creatures, that were, surprisingly, just large fish in the end. But those fish had rows of razor sharp teeth and streamlined bodies with sharp edges, their masses made of muscle. Hammerheads and bulls, mako and reef sharks, they hardly seemed to care about all the human eyes gawking at them from the other side of the glass bubble.

“That’s metal.” Zuko said, as fascinated as he could be despite his fading hangover. “Powerful.” Ozai corrected him, with a small smirk.

The crowd became too dense around them, and the two moved on from their fascination with the sharks, and went on into the next room after the bubble. It was barely lit, and had smaller more assorted tanks, tall square tanks along the walls and cylinder shaped tanks in the center. They started at the first cylinder tank, which contained seahorses. Zuko immediately adored the tiny, dancing and bobbing, almost alien like animals, they were clumsy and had to hold onto the plants extending from the bottom of the tank using their curly tails for support. Ozai just shrugged at the pitiful tiny creatures.

Zuko spoke up. “Did you know the male seahorses are the ones that get pregnant?” turning his head to Ozai. “Uh… No… That’s… pretty bizarre.” Ozai responded. Zuko turned his face back to the glass and leaned in a little closer, “I support you, tiny water dads.” he cooed at the seahorses. Ozai shook his head and snickered at that.

They moved on to the other cylinder shaped tanks, one supposedly had an octopus in it which neither Ozai or Zuko could find, and the next tank had spider crabs which Ozai was immediately disinterested in, so they pressed on to the next section of the aquarium which were the fresh water exhibits. They watched the fluffy otters play, and the fresh water crocodiles do the complete opposite, they mistook the snapping turtles for rocks a couple times, and made a few bets on which snail would get to the top of the glass in its tank first, but were eventually too bored to wait and see who the winner would be.

On the other end of the room was an enclosure with the walls of it coming up to about their waists, inside was an imitation of a pond and what you’d find in it. Some turtles and small frogs and lily pads. Small patches of dry surfaces the semi-aquatic creatures could rest on. There were koi fish floating patiently at the bottom of the pond, waiting to be fed by the guests. Most importantly, there was a family of ducks. A couple and their two ducklings. The couple bobbed in the water and quietly honked to each other like they were discussing something important, while their ducklings squeaked and wiggled and paddled their little webbed feet as hard as they could to keep up with their parents.

Zuko leaned over the railing, almost as far as he could to get a better look at the koi fish looking back up at him as if it expected him to toss it some food pellets. They were locked in an intense stare down. Ozai kept his attention on the family of ducks bobbing across the pond. The bigger of the ducklings began nipping at it’s sibling and the smaller one squeaked in distress and paddled away to the other side of their mother, the larger sibling pursued it. The mother dipped her head in between her feuding offspring, and nudged the perpetrating duckling with her beak. Ozai almost heard his own wife saying ‘Knock it off.’ when she was trying to keep their own children settled down, and he chuckled at that thought.

Apparently the father duck didn’t like the sound of Ozai’s laugh because he launched himself out the water at Ozai’s face, squawking and wings flapping. Water splashed, Ozai yelped, the father duck honked in earnest. Ozai ran backwards at the sudden force of feathers attacking him and tripped, falling on his rear end, while the duck snapped his beak at Ozai’s nose and ears and eyes. It rapped its feet against his chest, and slapped its wings around his face. Ozai cussed and hollered, trying to pull the attacking creature off of him. It got a hold of his eye lid and he shrieked, the commotion him and the duck were creating was certainly the center of attention at that point. Zuko was pulled away from his stare down by the uproar and rushed to his panicking father, struggling on the floor with a face full of feathered fury. Zuko rudely pushed the man trying to assist his father off to the side because he was taking too long. He kneeled down and grabbed the duck’s legs, pulling the beast away from Ozai, and carried it back to the artificial pond, to it’s family. The duck protested with honks and flapping wings and Zuko made it to the edge of the pond and gave the animal a good toss back into the enclosure. It smacked the surface of the water creating a splash, regained his balance after a few more flaps and casually swam back to his family like nothing had happened.

Some of the aquarium staff finally arrived at the scene, and one of the female workers offered her hand down to Ozai and she helped him back on his feet. Ozai, his hair ruffled and no longer perfectly straight, with bruises and red marks on his face, looked at the woman and politely and quickly thanked her before stomping off to the edge of the pond. Zuko turned around to his father making his way to the enclosure, probably seeking his vengeance on the duck by hollering at it from the railing. His son stood in his path to the pond, his hands up with an awkward smirk on his face.

Ozai halted in front of his son, “Zuko, I’m ready to leave.” “Huh, I think I am too.” Zuko grinned.

As compensation for their troubles, the aquarium management gave them a full refund, and Zuko asked for a duckling plushy he saw at one of the kiosks along their way through the exhibits, which they graciously gave to him. Then the father and son exited the establishment and made their way back to the car, Ozai sulking and Zuko held the plushy at his side, and watched his feet step one in front of the other as he followed his father, replaying the event in his mind. Ozai tapped the unlock button on his car key, and the locks snapped open in the doors. They opened their doors and maneuvered into their seats. Ozai fiddled with the keys and put them into the ignition and turned the car on… And then he let out a tired sigh with a tinge of annoyance, and the two sat there in silence for an awkward minute. Zuko shifted his eyes back and forth between the plushy and Ozai who had his hands resting on each side of the steering wheel and his head between them. Ozai closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side and let out a throaty snort that turned into a low chuckle and looked back up at Zuko holding his duck plushy to his chest and Zuko began to giggle along with him.

“I guess ducks don’t like either of us.” Zuko confirmed. “I guess not, my god!… Ozai agreed. Zuko grinned at his father. “Lets grab a bite, preferably somewhere people won’t care too much to see my duck battle scars.” Ozai suggested. “Right.” Zuko answered, while turning his head to look out through the windshield. Their mission assigned to them by Ursa was accomplished, for now.

#firelord-frowny #ode writes #zuko #ozai #modern AU #hopefully ill have the other requested prompt done tomorrow anon ^^

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andorandrook · 8 years ago

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Hellion

since some of you guys like my writing I thought I might as well share with you the first part of a non-fanfic story that I wrote in the summer. it’s unfinished and is likely to never be finished but if you’re curious, give it a read and please tell me what you think!

The journey to work that day was as uninteresting as usual.

My blaring alarm had woken me with just the right amount of time to shower and dress myself but not enough for breakfast so I grabbed an apple to eat while I walked. It was bitter, unpleasantly soft and the crunch of it between my teeth felt so loud and like physical attack on my already pounding head. I let it fall from my hand to the grimy pavement after just a couple of bites. However much I wished I could just leave it at that I knew I’d need energy for later.

The shop I stopped at was just down my street; the sort of flickeringly lit, messily stocked place that never closes and never has anything you’d truly want to buy. At this evening hour any decent shop would be closed so in a way I was lucky to live in convenient distance. The door was a little stiff and rattled when I opened it, causing the bored-looking shopkeeper to look up and recognise me. He didn’t know my name, I’d never said a word to him but he clearly didn’t get regular customers as consistent as me. I’d never stolen anything and yet his eyes still followed me warily around the shelves as if I looked like the type. I should feel insulted, in all honesty. I didn’t.

I grabbed some trashy cereal bar, a bottle of water and some chewing gum. When I went up to the desk to pay my eyes lingered longingly on the packeted cigarettes behind. My throat twitched with the urge, how easy it would be to ask for some. I didn’t.

The cereal bar was my usual brand but in my haste I had bought a different flavour than usual. It was sticky to the touch and cloyingly sweet with bits of fruit scattered in it. Not great. Better than that apple though.

I waited at the bus stop for the last trip of the day, precariously balanced on one of those useless benches used to stop anyone sleeping on them. A cat startled across the street in my direction and proceeded to rub its side against my leg, marking it with the scent of its hideously patched fur. I kicked it away.

The bus journey was similarly uneventful. I listened to music and determinedly ignored to scant few other passengers traveling at this time. I watched the street lamps go past through the smudged, scratched glass and the rhythmic passing off the light almost sent me to sleep before my stop. I was jerked back into the present by the hissing of the breaks and stumble down the aisle off the bus.

A few minutes more walking and I approached what appears from the outside to be some kind of abandoned industrial building. It was a little early for people to start arriving but a few patrons have gathered already in the concrete courtyard outside. I nodded to them in greeting, glad that they didn’t recognise me with the hood of my jumper pull down over my head. I quickly made it round the back to the ‘tradesman’s entrance’. There was a keypad and intercom system next to an unremarkable door, dwarfed by the scale of the building. I press the button to request entrance. It crackled with static.

“Hey, it’s Ryan,” I spoke at the wall. I received only silence and static as a response. “Ryan Benton.” Still nothing. I sighed. “Hellion.”

“Oh right, sorry man, come in,” the intercom voice muttered and the door clicked open.

I had thought the stage name had sounded cool at the time I had chosen it, when I was just starting out aged seventeen. Now I had to force myself to say it, wincing at how childish it sounded. Inside the building was dry and oddly warm as I closed the door. I was accustomed to this, however, simply shrugging my hooded jumper off as I climbed the staircase and ran my fingertip over the exposed brick. It came away grossly covered with dust and dirt. I promptly wiped it on my trousers before entering the first door on the left.

“Ah, Ryan, I’m so glad you’re early!” Julia exclaimed as I attempted to enter without causing a fuss. She grinned at me, an uncommonly genuine smile for her, and ushered me back out of the door.

Julia Lund had been my ‘manager’ from pretty much the beginning. A plump women that I would have placed at around thirty-five with permanently pursed lips and dirty blond hair scraped back tightly into a ponytail, she had been almost a mother-figure to me since she took me on. There were better managers around, of course, and I did not stick with her out of a sense of loyalty; I liked that she spoke frankly without embellishment or euphemism, I liked that she was one of the few people I knew who were shorter than me. Most of all I liked that she was unemotional, uncompassionate and ruthless. That was how to succeed in this kind of industry.

“I’m not early,” I shrugged, glancing at my watch.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not late, then,” she snapped. “Anyway, I have a surprise for you today, kid.”

“A...good surprise?”

“I hope you’ll think so. She’s very expensive so you’d better like her,” she laughed, though there was certainly an undercurrent of threat. She gestured for us to descend the staircase I’d just climbed, to my mild annoyance, but then kept going down. However much I personally disliked the basement layers of the building, I knew better than to argue with Julia, instead meekly following her down. The heat only seemed to increase as we reached the desired floor. When Julia opened the door labeled ‘Storage 6’ I was immediately enveloped in a wave of moist air heavy with the scent of animal and metallic tang of blood. I took a breath, ran my fingers through my hair, and followed her inside.

Each cage was a three meters cube, bulletproof plastic mesh supported by thick steel bars. There were about twenty cages in this one room; one room of dozens more underneath the main complex. On each cage was the name of the agency it belonged to and occasionally other specifications. In each cage were the animals.

I didn’t spare a glance the the dead-eyed creatures as I walked past and they didn’t care to look at us. There were larger animals, wolves and lions and bears, alone in their confines whilst the smaller beasts shared two or three to a cage. Each one made no reaction to our presence.

We stopped at the cage furthest from the entrance to the room, labeled with the logo of Julia’s agency. Julia was more careful than most with her creatures, each one being securely locked away to prevent anyone stealing these valuable animals. She quickly typed in a code and the cage door clicked open. Neither of us had to duck to get inside.

The animal inside was lying down, head lolled to one side and eyes staring blankly ahead. She was huge; stretched out she could easily have touched both walls of her enclosure. Not elegant in the slightest, she was of a stocky build, her head a squat jumble of features with wide set eyes in an unappealing shade of yellow. Beauty wasn’t an issue, however, when it was clear how much power was held in those thick muscles that heaved with every breath, mouth opening to reveal a mouth of sharp teeth and wide tongue.

“What is she?” I asked, keeping my distance but squatting down so I could look closer.

“A tileguaress,” she stated. I raised my brow and she sighed impatiently. “A hybrid. A lion had a baby with a tiger and that baby then had a baby with a jaguar. Or it might’ve been the other way round.”

Now that she had explained her parentage, I could see where the animal got her looks. The body shape very much resembled a lion with its stout build and oversized head.. The colouring was that of a melanistic jaguar, a panther as it is known; dark grey-black fur, thick and dense, spotted with faded rosettes that become clearer on the lighter coloured belly. Her tiger heritage was expressed primarily in her enormous size, but also with larger paws and a flatter snout on what would otherwise be a jaguar-like head.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” Julia continued. “She’s fast, she’s strong and, more importantly, she’s yours.”

My head snapped round to face her, grin already spreading on my face. Mine.

I looked back at the animal and noticed now that the right ear was incomplete, a roughly semi-circular hole in the shape of a bite mark had been cut from the edge, relatively recently if the red rawness of the flesh was a good indicator. That’s my mark. That means she’s mine.

“Well...what do you think?” Julia pressed.

“She’s amazing. When do I get to try her out?”

“I’ve got you last slot tonight. It’s going to be the main event,” she grinned, clearly proud of herself. I hold her gaze, cynical causing her to shrug. “You don’t need any practise, you’ll be fine. Apparently she handles just like a tiger.”

“Can she roar?”

“You’ll have to find out,” she smirked.

I reached out as if to touch the animal’s face but instead brushed the metal device attached under her ear. It was one of the latest models, brand new by the looks of it, small and smooth enough that it could not get caught on anything. When it was switched on I knew the small light would pulse blue. It was newly installed, too, and just for a moment I allowed myself to wonder what this great beast was like before they fixed wires into her brain and dosed her up with chemicals to make her as placid and dumb as a baby.

Even though she stared blankly forward I still felt a flash of guilt when I looked into her eyes. It was gone in an instant and I stood, turning to the exit.

“You going to name her?”

I glanced at Julia, then back down to the undisturbed creature. “Maybe. If she lasts the week.”

“She’d better. I spent good money on that thing, you’d better not get her killed until I’ve reaped my investment five times over at a minimum,” Julia said sternly as we exited the cage. “I’ll give you manageable opponents.”

I scoffed. “Who are we against later?”

“One of Hauxwell’s lot; a lion, I think.”

“Do you reckon we’re up to it?”

Julia locked that cage but stayed peering through the mesh. “Look at her, Ryan.”

I do. I see muscles and teeth and claws and a single torn ear. Mine.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she reassured and patted me on the shoulder.

We walked back up the seemingly endless staircases in silence. I struggled to keep up with her brisk pace, struggled to keep my breathing shallow to not let her realise how absurdly drained I was after just one flight of stairs. The blood in my head seemed to constrict my brain with pulsing pressure. It hurt.

When we reached the main office belonging to Julia it had gotten a lot busier. The other pilots in the agency were lounging on sagging sofas whilst a few technician flitted around them. I made a move to go sit with them and rest for a while but Julia stopped me with an outstretched arm.

“Go get changed, Ryan. I want you in Prep in five minutes.”

“I thought you said I was on last!” I growled.

“You are. You’re also on first; starting and ending the show,” she smiled, this time with a certain savageness and insincerity. I huffed in irritation. “The crowd loves you and don’t you dare try to kid me into thinking you don’t love being the star, the golden boy, the centre of attention.”

“Sorry, I guess it’s too much to hope for: a relaxed evening to prepare for piloting that new beast,” I sighed.

“Dream on, kid.”

I rolled my eyes and headed towards the door but my way was blocked.

“Poor little Ryan, is mummy making you work for a change?” the man said.

Marcus Heath. We were of a similar age though I was far more experienced having started nearly three years before him. Where I was small and slightly built, he towered over me and felt twice as wide, arms roped in burly muscles and legs like small trees. Most of the other pilots disliked me but only Marcus truly seemed to hate me. He loathed me for reasons I could not specify; perhaps it was jealousy of my adoration or my skill. I didn’t mind; he was large and brash, specialising in bears. He relied too heavily on the strength of his animals over his own skill and I knew that soon he would be tossed out of work like countless others that I had seen pass through.

I slipped past him quickly before he had a chance to react and scuttled from the room scowling. The next door over led to a small changing room with slightly battered lockers lining the wall. At the sight of one particular dent I was reminded of the pain in my skull that came from my head being slammed there after a particularly displeasing fight for my opponent. It had been easier to flee than fight back.

I opened my locker and found my outfit for the night newly washed and neatly hung up. A lot of the other pilots have fancy costumes that match their gimmicks; Julia had originally tried to force me into one until it became obvious that I would not compete properly unless I was comfortable. The clothes were still custom made but simple outfits that rotated throughout the week. I shrugged off my jeans and shirts and stuffed them in the bottom of the locker, pulling out my new clothes. Today’s outfit was one of my favourites; skintight black leggings with my signature blue flame pattern spiraling the lower leg and a loose sleeveless shirt with a ripped effect at the edges also in black. I pulled on the trousers and stood in front of the mirror in the corner of the room fiddling with my hair.

Julia insisted I keep it long to suit my ‘wild’ look but for practicalities sake we compromised on a shaggy style that still irritates at my eyes if I don’t style it. It’s dyed too, my natural near-black bleached white on the top layers so that that the pale and dark strands are mixed and contrasted. I would never have admitted that I thought it looked good even when I spiked it erratically with hair gel like I did then. After perfecting my hair I sighed and grudgingly took out some make-up. The audience could only see my face for a couple of minutes yet Julia still insisted on well above the bare minimum of stage make-up. Luckily, she also made the other pilots wear similar amounts so this was not yet another thing they could insult me with. The foundation made me somehow look paler than usual and the eyeliner was near impossible to apply steadily.

I was still standing in front of the mirror attempting a neat-enough line above my eye when their was a knock on the door quickly followed by the door opening.

“Sir, Ms Lund was just- oh,” interrupted the young technician who had been assigned for me for nearly a year now. He saw what I was doing and stuttered, eyes clearly noting my state of half-dress and cheeks turning spectacularly red. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll come back when...when you’re-”

“It’s fine,” I assured him, smiling to settle his obvious nerves. The boy was always so skittery around me, as if he was constantly scared of my judgement or approval. I gestured at him with my head to come in . “What did she want?” “Oh, she wanted you to be in Prep already so she sent me to see what was taking so long.”

“I’m not late, am I?” I asked, confident until I glimpsed the clock in the corner of the room. “Oh shit, sorry. It’s this eyeliner, you see.” I gesticulated at my face with the pencil and ended up drawing a black line on my upper nose.

“Do you need some help?” he chuckled tentatively. I nodded, failing to suppress an embarrassed smile as I wiped the mark off with the back of my hand.

He took the pencil and faced me towards him, tilting my head up so he could see better. He instructed me alternately to close and open my eyes as he deftly applied some more marks and neatened the ones I had already made. When my eyes were open I could see him biting his lip in concentration, his big owl’s eyes blinking furiously behind thick-rimmed glasses. He looked proud but not smug when he asked for my approval of his handiwork.

“It’s your fault, you know,” I nudged him, only half joking. His brow furrowed. “Those drugs you fill me with; they’re what make my hands unsteady.”

“Maybe I should up your dosage. I thought I had it calculated perfectly but perhaps…” he trailed off.

He watched quietly whilst I slipped my shirt on and added the accessories; blue and black leather cuffs the cover most of my upper arms, matching coloured bracelets on my wrists and a necklace strung with feline teeth. No shoes because I liked to work in bare feet and it showed off my Julia-approved tattoos that spiraled across my ankles and feet. I would have liked to spend a couple of minutes more on adjusting my hair but I could see the kind-eyed technician fidgeting, clearly anxious to get going.

As we set off down the corridor I realized that despite working with me for nearly a year, I still didn’t know the boy’s name.

Once we reached the small, sterile room labeled ‘Preparation’, I was sat down as usual on the plasticky coated chair. It was like one you might find in a dentist's only upright and the arms were covered in ominous straps. He took my right arm and attached it in position before sliding the leather cuff down my arm, revealing the tattoo there.

It read, in a clean and official font, ‘Insert Needle Here’ below a small cross now riddled with tiny scars. That design and position was definitely not pre-approved of by Julia. She had been furious when she first saw it and was forced to adjust all of my outfits to cover it up, hence the arm-cuffs. I couldn’t understand why she was so angry; it wasn’t as if it wasn’t common knowledge that the pilots are dosed up on chemicals to enhance their ability to fight. I had got the tattoo done soon after this unknown-named technician was appointed because on the first few days he kept failing to find a vein on the first try. Facing Julia’s wrath was worth it to see the boy’s face when I next went into Prep.

He smiled reassuringly as he administered the first injection, accurate to the tattoo’s instruction. He muttered the names of some of the chemicals contained and their properties, as much for himself as for me. “This one is for better connectivity to the devices,” he gestured to the syringed once he’d taken it out, as if I didn’t go through this process daily. Theoretically anyone could be a pilot but without the correct additional chemicals in your system it would be difficult to control, the movements would be slow, jerky and awkward.

“This is to keep you calm,” he continued and I winced slightly as the liquid entered my arm. I used to look away, sickened by the procedure. Now, however, I’d barely feel a thing.

“”And this is for faster reflexes,” he concluded as he administered the final dose. “I think...perhaps this is what is causing the shaking. Your body has become almost dependent on it, requiring a higher dose to last you a full day.”

“Is there anything you can do about it?” I asked as I watched him carefully seal and dispose of the used syringes.

“I’m sure I can figure something out, Sir. Give me time to throw some calculations about and I’ll get back to you for tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I smiled up at him, heartfelt. I knew that he was paid to work for me, to make me as comfortable and happy as possible, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was genuinely fond of me. He unstrapped my arm from the chair and I flexed it. I never had been fond of the dull ache that injections cause. I replaced the cuff over the minutely swollen skin.

“Have you still got a headache?”

I nodded. “It’s been on and off for about a month.”

“Did the gel help last time?”

“Yeah, maybe. Well, it can’t hurt to try,” I shrugged.

“Well, actually it could. Say you you were allergic to one of the ingredients then you might go into anaphylactic shock or get at least get a rash. Or if you overuse if you might become desensitised to the ingredient that-” he stopped after seeing my cynical expression. He tried to suppress an embarrassed laugh. “It can’t hurt to try.”

He produced a small vial and moved me to face him, holding my head still. With a finger of the grossly gelatinous substance he rubbed it into my temples. I closed my eyes and relaxed as the coolness of the gel bought minimal relief from the pounding in my temples.

“Is that any better?”

I forced my eyes open, a little annoyed at the interruption of the rhythmic smoothing of the substance into my skin. “It’ll do. Has anyone told you what the specifications for the first fight today are?”

The technician hesitated. “You’ve both got felines. Medium-sized, I think. The opponent is one of Kaplan’s lot but I don’t know who. It shouldn’t be too straining, anyhow.” “How would you know?” I snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

He glared, a moment standing defiant before he caved back to his normal pliant self. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

I left the room quickly, feeling a little ridiculous that I had gotten so worked up over such a minor comment. Still, I both had too little time and was too stubborn to go back and apologise, instead heading to wait outside what the pilots had dubbed ‘Stage Door’. I leant against the wall with the intention of having a few minutes to myself. Of course that would never happen.

“Ryan, are you fully prepped for the fight?” Julia called as she trotted down the hallway towards me. “You look very flushed; did you put enough foundation on?”

She grabbed my face not roughly and tilted it. I rolled my eyes but let her examine the make-up my technician and I had applied earlier. She grunted in approval before letting go.

“Right, you’ll be piloting a cheetah first thing, the one you used to fight Marcelli’s hunting dog last week? You’re going against Kaplan’s Unbleached Claw.”

“Who?” I asked, trying to stifle a laugh at the ridiculousness of the name.

“Unbleached Claw? I don’t think you’ve fought her before, she’s relatively new. She’s one of those hippie ‘natural’ types who are all into keeping the animals as wild and pure as possible,” Julia dismissed, voice dripping with scorn.

“Sounds like she’s in the wrong business.”

“I agree,” she continued. “Anyway, you’ll be fighting her and her new snow leopard. Should be quite the opening match. Keep it quick, though, because we’ve got a lot of stuff to fit in tonight.”

I almost choked in surprise even though I wasn’t eating anything. “A snow leopard? I thought they were extinct.”

“Near as,” Julia shrugged it off. “Kaplan says some guys sold it to him wild-caught. Got no breeding behind it, no gene mods so it should be an easy win.”

“He sure it’s not just some painted-up jaguar?”

She laughed and waved it away, nudging me through the door and muttering whatever her version of ‘good luck’ was. As soon as the door’s seal broke, sound flooded the corridor. The horrendous clamour of near a thousand voices jabbering away, the clattering of their bodies and throats overlayed by the mechanically loudened announcing from the commentator’s voice. It felt like a physical agony in my head but it had to be done and so I stepped through the door into the Pod.

It was narrow and long, the half at the other end made entirely of glass save for the floor and empty save for a single chair. The half in which I stood was darkened with shadow and so I could hand back unseen by the crowd. Through the glass I could see that it was crowded tonight, the whole arena completely full of soon-to-be-drunk patrons chatting and shouting and arguing, a few of them listening to the night’s proceedings being announced. Above I could see the wealthier sponsors enjoying their fancy drinks in the spacious private booths that gave an excellent top-down view of the arena.

The walls at a level with me were lined with three other pods jutting out towards the centre of the vast room and in the one directly opposite I thought I could see the shape of my opponent hanging back in the dark like me, waiting patiently for the night to begin.

And it begun.

“...honoured to welcome our first pilots. In the East Pod we have....Hellion!”

A thunderous cheer swelled in the arena, a vibration felt deep in my core as I stepped into the light of the glass room. I grinned and gestured for more praise, psyching the crowd up for the fight. This was Hellion, not Ryan, and Hellion was loved for being arrogant and cocksure, not loathed for it. I padded round to in front of the chair, bare feet on the cool floor and once again beat my chest for approval in full view of the crowd.

“Against him in the West Pod we have...Unbleached Claw!”

Another swell of applause, though I noted smugly that it was not as loud or confident as mine, her name being less known or prestigious. My opponent slunk of the dark, a tall woman a little younger than me in a tight top and loose trouser that were a spectrum of pastel shades. Her hair was long and a natural brow that fell in waves to her waist. She smiled sweetly at the crowd but did not beg for their attention as she took her place in front of her own identical chair. She glared at me and tossed her hair back so that I caught a glimpse of the silvered rings adorning her ears, identical to the one through the side of her nose. I licked my lips and pressed my hands to the glass, smirking a little. She looked perhaps and little intimidated but remained firmly stoney-faced.

The announcer was prattling more details to the fight and I was setting up, taking the headset that was sitting on the chair and strapping it to my head. I kept the viso up for now but lowered the headphone speakers over my ears and made sure the entire device was secure, next fitting the controllers dangling for the sides from wires to my hand. They looked like simple black gloves and were lined with tiny sensors and wires, all reporting back to the main headset. I sat down on the chair and glanced up to see my opponent doing the same.

“How’s the crowd tonight?” a voice started up in my ear.

“Loud,” I complained.

It was one of Julia’s subordinates, a man named Odell. Julia often advised the fights herself but with the agency expanding she needed others to take over some of the time. I still felt a little twinge of bitterness that she couldn’t be bothered to help me out herself every time I heard someone else’s voice on the comms. Still, Odell was civil enough not to despise me openly so I didn’t overly mind.

Suddenly the audience’s screeching was gone, replaced with complete silence and the whirring of blood in my head. Everyday I muttered a short prayer to the guy who invented soundproof glass.

“Better?” Odell asked.

“Much appreciated,” I thanked him. “You’ll have to tell me what’s going on though. Can I start yet?”

“The commentator’s just talking about the creatures so I guess you should probably get going, yeah. I think that’s what that Claw girl is doing.”

I looked over to check and he was right, she had already pulled her visor down and was sitting tense in her seat.

“Okay, I’ll get on that then.”

I slid the visor screen down over my eyes, my vision turning to darkness. Not hearing or seeing anything was a little disconcerting but it soon ended as Odell continued in my ear.

“You ready?”

“Of course.”

“Brilliant. Booting up in three...two...one…”

To someone who has never been in two places at once it is near impossible to describe the feeling of opening your second set of eyes, of standing up whilst you remain firmly seated, of yawning whilst your mouth is shut and stretching out your tail. I did all of those things and then looked about me, taking in the holding pen I had been lying asleep in. I could hear the rumbling of the crowd again through the door.

“How are you doing?”

“Seems normal,” I mused, knowing that everything my screen displays was being streamed back to where Odell is advising from. “Response with little to no delay time. Stats say all the vitals are fine, he’s fully recovered from last week.”

“Open the mouth.” I did. “And close.” I did that too. “Looks like we’re good to go. The hatch will open in approximately sixty seconds.”

I paced briefly, stretching my legs and warming the muscles. The wall on one side of the pen was a mirror, smudged and scratched but still clear enough to see my reflection. It would be a strange day when I could look into that mirror and my insides not lurch with surprise to see a creature that was certainly not me staring back. I took a few seconds to preen and admire my appearance.

I never liked piloting cheetahs. They’re too lithe to make proper fighting animals, their speed advantage rendered practically useless in the small confines of the arena. Still, even I had to admit that this particular specimen was impressive; selectively bred for size and muscle he cut an imposing figure. A king cheetah is a colour variant rather than a true subspecies,but still rare enough to make them more desired and more praised by the crowds. I tilted my head and to see the telltale blue flashing light on the metal device there as well as my signature bite-mark cut in his ear.

I should name him, I thought, staring at my reflection. If he survives, that is.

I started a little as the voice returned to my ears. It was always strange being so immersed that it felt like I was hearing the instruction through the animal’s ears rather than my own.

“Get ready, Hellion. Hatch opening in five seconds,” Odell informed me. I turned to face the door, simultaneously listening to the commentator introducing me and Odell counting down. “Four. Three. Two. One.”

I hadn’t realised how dim the holding pen was until the hatch lifted and glaring light split through the opening, causing me to reflexively flinch. A low grinding bass music was playing underneath the crowd noises as I stepped out onto the walkway, timing my steps to each thumping beat and prowling forward. I tossed my head from one side to the other, engaging the crowd. I leapt off the walkway and into the arena neatly, a large entrance and a drop of about half a metre. I heard the cage door slide down in place behind me.

I took a moment to survey my surroundings, having not bothered to check with my human eyes a few minutes earlier. The cage is the same as always; plastic mesh strong enough to withstand a blow from a polar bear but thin enough that it provided easy viewing. They configure the arena itself slightly differently for every fight. This time they had platforms jutting out at various levels, some unattainably out of reach, and one hanging to the centre of the arena maybe three metres in the air. I grumbled slightly at the inequity; cheetahs are terrible climbers. Any attempt by me to attempt to mount one of the higher platforms would lead to certain injury. Perhaps they felt she needed the advantage.

I stalked one circuit around the cage, pausing occasionally scuff my feet or bare my teeth at the crowd, no sound. Cheetahs are sinister enough animals when silent, lean and aggressive. They can’t roar, however, or growl or snort. The noises they produce range from not unlike a baby bird, to not unlike a kitten. Not particularly intimidating to say the least.

As I paced I made eye contact with and observed members of the crowd. A group of drunken men far richer than they looked who cheered when I bared my teeth at them; a couple, arms slung over one another, who looked mildly terrified; a lone man with a handkerchief covering the lower half of his face who made no reaction at all, even when I hissed directly at him.

After circling for the crowd, showing off the cheetah’s beautiful body in slick movements, I turned to the real audience. The camera.

The money made from this kind of sporting came almost entirely from the gambling industry. Whilst the crowd in view were wealthy, and those up on the balconies even richer, it was those sitting in the comfort of their country manors, apartments in city centre and other such opulent dwellings that brought in the real money. Millionaires betting thousands on their lucky favourite, billionaires betting millions on an outside chance and those with more money than someone could spend in a lifetime throwing half a city’s wealth away in one evening. All done through internet payments whilst they lounged on comfy sofas and watched the blood run red on their screens. It was all horrendously illegal, of course, but there was far too much money in it for it to ever be stopped by force.

I stared directly down the lens of the high-quality video camera, curled my lips back to reveal sharp fangs and hissed a little. I turned my head to let the harsh lighting shine off my rich coat and let them observe the layers of muscle underneath. The patrons knew me, of course, but they might not know the animal. I needed to show them this was a creature worth staking their fortunes on.

The commentator announced Unbleached Claw’s entry and I only just turned in time to see the creature hop gracefully down from the walkway. As is courtesy, I held back and simply paced, waiting for her to engage the audience. It was only fair that we both had a turn to win favour before the fighting began and also it gave me a little time to observe her.

The snow leopard herself was truly stunning, although at the same time smaller than expected. The creature was short and stockily built, entire body covered with thick silver-grey fur patterned with large irregular rosettes. Built for far colder temperatures than these. The fur around her head was so dense and fluffy that it entirely concealed the controlling device, adding to the ‘natural’ look that Julia had told me about. The only give-away that this was not a wild beast at all was the thick silver ring pierced through the side of her nose to match the pilot. That and the dead-eyed gaze that all piloted animals had; a vacant look that told of the external control and powerlessness of the body.

I watched as she leapt with ease onto one of the lower platforms, the body of a snow leopard being one built for climbing. My opponent clearly wasn’t one for pandering to the crowd, instead using this time to test out the new surroundings and exercise the vessel’s body. I noted with a certain smugness that her movements were on the whole far less graceful than mine, her comparatively little experience as a pilot making her a little awkward and jerky. Also she seemed to be slipping a little on the platforms as she jumped from one to another, suggesting they were perhaps not as much of an advantage as I had initially assumed.

Once she had scouted out the upper levels, she jumped deftly to the floor and faced me. I stood opposite her on my side of the arena and nodded. The fight was beginning.

“You’re ready?” Odell asked for confirmation.

“Let’s get on with it.”

She chuffed at me and I bared my teeth. The fight had begun.

I spent only a few moments pacing before making the first strike, reminded of Julia’s words from earlier. Keep it quick. Using the cheetah’s ability to powerfully spring, I launched myself straight at the snow leopard, claws aiming at her head. She was quick enough to raise a paw to protect her face but not quick enough to dodge. I skittered to the side having gouged a deep mark on one of her front legs and a lesser scratch to her domed brow.

She tried a similar attack on me, a simple lunging leap. Her animal, however, was slower and gave me time to avoid the pounce entirely. She skidded past me and allowed me to twist and ram her against the cage wall. This exposed her belly which I proceeded to bite at, ripping deep as she squirmed to get away.

I saw this all through a screen on my visor, of course. These movements weren’t controlled by my muscles but by highly advanced electronics tracking the activity of my brain as well as subtle movements in my hands. And yet even without the pain or pressure feedback expected it still felt so real, so immediate. These claws were my own.

I let her go, failing to do any crucial damage at this angle and also realising that it was visually rather boring to keep her in one place. Anything to please the crowd. She sprung free and sooner than I could turn to follow her movements she sunk her teeth into my left haunch, using the wider jaw and longer teeth of a snow leopard to her advantage. Clearing away as quickly as I could, I hissed at her from a safe distance, irritated.

“Why the hell did you let her go?” Odell whined in his ear.

“It was a mistake,” I assured him. “What’s the damage like?”

It would take too much effort for me to read the blinking read text at the bottom of the screen that detailed injuries. I was far too busy fending off and delivering strikes with my foe, a rapid pace of scratching and hitting and gnashing.

“Minimal. No major blood supplies hit, muscles that were damaged are still functional. You’ll be fine, just be more careful next time.”

“Yes, sir,” I breathed sarcastically as I deftly avoided another blow to my side.

My eye caught on the shining of the metal hoop through the snow leopard’s nose. I pondered for a second, calculating the risk before deciding to go with my instinct, however sickening it is.

I lunged forward head first in an unnatural movement, bracing my claws against her shoulder and bending to hook one long tooth through the ring and shut my mouth. I distantly registered the crowd cheering as I began to drag the other creature by its nose whilst she struggled helplessly and lashed at my face. Now I had her caught I aimed my claws at her face, intending to inflict damage to her eyes or sensory organs. It was always an easy win to blind your opponent so that they could barely fight back.

I only managed one slash across her face before there was a great tugging and I was shocked to see her pull away from me. She had wrenched away so hard that it had ripped the ring out of the side of her nose, now gushing red. The snow leopard was whimpering presumably not under the pilot’s command, the animal inside crying out in pain through the layers of controls. She looked even more unsteady on her feet as she bounded away and onto an above platform, safe from further harm.

I spat out the ring and played with it in my claws whilst the crowd cheered me on. The piercing was her gimmick, similar to the way my animals have their ears cut, to make her more memorable. Hers could be used against her, however, whilst mine was entirely harmless. I was reminded briefly of a pilot I once knew when I was first starting out who used to collar all his animals like pets. It was cute, sure, until I hooked my paws under it and used the collar to crush the wolf’s windpipe. It was a lesson poorly learned, however, and many have followed him in the pursuit of individuality.

The snow leopard was not running scared as I thought she might. Instead, she began stalking me from above, glaring down as she paced from one platform to another. It was unnerving because she looked like she was going to strike at any moment and I hated that she had this height advantage over me.

I looked up defiantly and chirped at her, the trill noise hoping to taunt her into action. It didn’t work and she continued circuiting above me, occasionally pausing to growl.

“What’s going on? Why isn’t she attacking?” Odell asked.

“The animal is in pain which makes it very difficult to pilot,” I stated, trying not to lose focus. “She’s trying to get the vessel back under control.”

“Can’t you go get her? Attack while she’s weak?”

“I’m in a cheetah, Odell. This animal is not meant for climbing; I’d likely end up more injured than she is,” I snapped, working off my irritation.

Which meant I wasn’t fully focussed a second later when the snow leopard leapt from the high platform.

She landed with full force on my back half and suddenly my screen was flashing an array of red as I fought her off. She had landed roughly and that had affected her too, enough for me to catch a claw on her eye before she could retreat back up high. I saw blood splattered on the concrete beneath me and could tell my animal was buckling unevenly as I tried to stand.

“Damage report!” I half-shouted.

“Left femur is splintered, hairline fracture to the pelvis, one of the lower ribs is cracked and three more suffering severe bruising. Internals seem fine, no major arteries hit but still serious damage to muscles nearing the hind legs,” Odell listed as I began an uneven pacing to assess the maneuverability of the broken body. “Sorry, Hellion. I don’t think you can win this one.”

“I can,” I hissed. “I can and I’m going to. She’s running half-blind now, it’s only so long until she make a mistake.”

The snow leopard was visibly struggling to traverse the platforms; her right eye was swollen shut and oozing blood and her paws were slipping, slick with blood. Her face was somewhat mangled with the addition of half the nose being ripped away causing the red to flow openly and soak the dense fur. She was, however, in better shape than my cheetah with all her limbs unbroken and only minor external injuries. She was chuffing loudly at me now and the audience were cheering, chanting for her to finish me off. She leapt around the outer ledges and then to the hanging platform in the middle.

She missed.

A combination of her newfound arrogance and the blood on her paws meant caused her to slip whilst jumping. She only landed half on the platform and scrabbled desperately with her paws, claws extended in a panicked attempt to reach safety. Her hind legs and long tail were flailing, suspended in the air at the centre on the arena. My opportunity had arisen so quickly.

I dragged her down from her hanging position so fast and brutally that I heard her skull crack against the hard concrete. She still tried to bat me off but the resistance was weak, head and spine irreparably damaged by the fall. I leant down and she tried to snap at my head with the little strength left. I pushed her aside with one paw, holding her head back to gain full access to her exposed neck.

Such an amazing creature, a snow leopard. Near extinct, and effortlessly beautiful.

I bit out her throat.

The roar of the crowd was like a jet engine as it echoed around the arena, the great swell of noise amplified across every available surface. The body of the animal beneath me was still writhing even as her life was spewing in bursts through the torn flesh of her neck. I stood proud and accepted the applause of the crowd, front legs propped up on the snow leopard’s ribcage. I turned directly to the camera and once again bared my teeth, now red and dripping. I stayed there as the body twitched a little and blood gurgled out of its mouth, heart finally finished with beating.

“Well done,” Odell praised him. “That was nicely played. But we are on a tight schedule so…”

“I understand.”

I tried not to limp too much as I abandoned the body in the centre of the arena and exited the same way I got in. The hop up to the walkway was challenging and I had to take two attempts to scramble on properly.

“Hey, Odell?” I asked and he grunted in response. “Do you reckon they’ll kill him?”

“Your cheetah? No, the damage is repairable. He won’t be able to fight for a week or two but I’m pretty sure the patrons will want to see him back. Why do you ask?”

I hesitated, pausing over whether to admit my slight attachment to the animal, a tiny twinge of sentimentality. Weakness.

“No reason, just curious.” Once inside the holding pen I lay down in the corner, considerate as possible of the broken leg and other wounds, and closed the cheetah’s eyes. “Unhook me.”

“Sure thing,” he affirmed. “Shutting down in three. Two. One.”

The engine-roar of the crowd silenced in an instant and everything was black. I enjoyed the peace for a moment before lifting the visor of the headgear and unstrapping the controllers. I stretched, my human muscles feeling stiff and awkward. I could have felt them the whole time I was piloting but I was concentrating hard enough for my brain to block most of my real body’s senses. I carefully place the headset on the chair and turn back to the audience.

They were clearly cheering wildly, excited by the first bloodshed of the night, although I couldn't hear them through the soundproof glass. I pounded my fists against the transparent barrier and grinned, egging on further praise. I could see the cameras down below and above, some carried by people, others operated on suspended wires, most pointed at me whilst a few lingered on the mutilated corpse of the former snow leopard. I noted smugly that my opponent had already left, presumably enraged at her failure.

I didn’t wait for the cheering to die down before making my own exit, preferring to leave on a high with applause still filling the arena. As soon as I turned away it didn’t matter anyway as I couldn’t hear them in my sealed little Pod. I slunk off into the darkness and out the door.

There was no one waiting in the corridor to congratulate me. There never was. Instead I just glanced at the clock and worked out roughly how much time I had until my next fight, walking down the corridor to Julia’s main office. I was drained after that fight and, although I had only woken up a few hours earlier, I really needed to rest before my next fight. I looked longingly through the door of the main office at the comfy sofas, imagining curling up on the plush seats and sleeping soundly. That could not be a reality, however, not with Marcus and the other disdainful pilots littered across them or the bustle of the room. I considered going in to speak to Julia but she looked busy and I had very little to say to her.

I left, legs heavy, to try and find somewhere else to nap. It always felt as if my blood was saturated with grains of metal after a fight, weighing me down and making each movement sluggish and dull. I normally went straight home when I only had one fight and slept until my alarm woke me up the next evening. When I had two fights, which was happening with increasing frequency as Julia seemed to want to work me harder each passing day, there was little I could do to stay awake for the time in between.

After peering through several doors into rooms sterile and deserted or humming with people I found one further along the corridor that was labeled ‘Server Room’. I searched through my slightly fuzzy memory to see if I had any recollection of if I had been in here before and found nothing. The room wasn’t locked and so I slipped inside.

The room was small, made more compact by huge machinery against each wall that whirred and hummed quietly considering its bulk. It was dimmer than the corridor outside and lit with a flickering orange glow. Wires like hair follicles sprouted out in places to curl away behind other metal cubes whilst some parts were an array of blinking lights, red and green. It was much colder that the rest of the building, almost uncomfortably so, due to the steady breeze blowing through grates on the ceiling. The floor was cool and metallic when I ran my fingers over it, slumping down into a corner of coiled wiring, presumably spare as it did not seem to be attached to anything. It was chilly and solid but the nest of wires allowed me to tuck together and in moments I was unconscious.

As always, the sleep was heavy and consuming. No dreams, no thoughts at all until I was awoken by the door slamming open, a sound which resonated through the metal of the floor as physical vibration. My eyes snapped open and I saw a huge figure silhouetted in the doorway. I flinched as it stepped forward, only to lean back out the door and shout down the corridor. “Julia, I’ve found the runt you were looking for!”

I knew the voice and as my eyes focussed I could tell it was Marcus who had interrupted my doze. I growled, irritated at the use of the word ‘runt’ but otherwise I made no reaction. A woman’s voice shouted something indiscernible and Marcus entered the room and stepped towards me again. I tensed and backed up against the wall, noticing for the first time that someone had tucked a blanket around me whilst I was asleep, an act of kindness vaguely unsettling in its intimacy. I chose to ignore it for now, with more pressing matters to hand.

“What are you doing?” I practically squeaked as he came closer. He just rolled his eyes and grunted, dragging me up by my collar and shoving me into the corridor. With a firm, unfriendly hand on my shoulder he guided me down the hall in silence until we reached where Julia was fidgeting impatiently. Marcus pushed me roughly from the small of my back so I stumbled embarrassingly.

“Ryan! You are due in your pod in less than ten minutes. What the hell were you doing?”

“I-”

“I found him sleeping in the Server Room, all curled up like a baby animal,” Marcus spat and with fake concern added, “Julia, I’m not sure he’s alright in the head. I think maybe piloting from such a young age has turned his brain mushy.”

“That will be all, Marcus,” she dismissed coldly. He slunk away, grumbling and muttering under his breath. “I’m not happy with you, Ryan, but I don’t have time to complain. Quickly fix your hair and get checked over by your technician and be outside stagedoor in five minutes sharp.”

I nodded and jogged off to the changing room. It was again empty, allowing me to relax a little as I fished the jar of hair product from the tangle of clothes in my locker and haphazardly spiked the side the had been flattened from where it was resting on my arm. My makeup too was a little smudged and so i fixed that with a licked finger until both eyes looked roughly even. No time to hesitate I quickly left the room in search of my owly technician but he was already waiting outside the door.

“How are you doing, Sir?” he asked as he began poking at my sides, lifting my arms and clicking in from of my eyes.

“Less tired than I was.” “Yes, I heard you were having a nap,” he smiled at me, a hint of colour on his cheeks. “You look fine physically. How’s the head?”

“Better,” I said, although it wasn’t much.

We walked in companionable quiet to where the stagedoor was and he picked up my headset that was left there ready for the fight. He picked it up and adjusted a few things on the side, only occasionally glancing up at me, focussed on whatever he was doing. He handed me the headset.

“This should help,” he stuttered a little and smiled sheepishly. “I-I’ve adjusted some of the fitting so that it puts less pressure on sensitive parts of the skull, particularly around the ears.”

I nodded and looked cynical. “Go put this on the chair; I’m doing my entrance in about two minutes.”

“Certainly, Sir,” he complied and slipped through the door. I could see his face fall at the dismissal but I pretended not to notice, uncaring. He was back in a matter of seconds, eyes still bright and kind despite my brashness with him. It was somehow infuriating. “Haven’t you got something else to be getting on with?” I snapped.

“I guess so,” he hesitated. “If you’re sure that you are fine, that is.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Oh, okay.” He scurried down the corridor and out of sight and I sighed in the brief moment of quiet, dim audience sounds through the door. In my haste to be rid of the young technician I had forgotten to ask him any details about the fight but I was sure I could successfully manage it knowing just the basics.

I once again lurked in the dark back of the Pod when I first entered, just as the announcer began to introduce my opponent. I liked going second better but it it did little to take the edge off my dark mood. Perhaps it was being so abruptly woken or perhaps I was just nervous about the new beast. First time with a new creature always has potential to be tricky.

“For our final fight of the evening, in the West Pod we have Rex Terrae!”

Even my current resentment for seemingly everything could not stop me from grinning then. Rex had been piloting for almost as long as me, signing on with his agent Hauxwell a few moments after I contracted to Julia. I definitely wouldn’t call him a friend but we were fairly amicable, having sparred our animals frequently over the last five years. He would always greet me kindly and embrace me with intimidatingly affectionate bear-hugs. Whilst Julia and her agency were stationed permanently at this arena, many contractors like Hauxwell have taken to touring the smaller fighting rings across the world and so I haven’t seen Rex in a while.

He caught my eye during his entrance and smiled warmly at me, still waving to the crowd. He was very much into costuming, his Roman styling not overdone but obvious and effortlessly cool. It suited his name and his chosen creatures; all very traditional colosseum type animals.

“...Hellion!”

The roar of the crowd was notably louder than it had been at the beginning of the night, both from an increase in spectators and a brief popularity boost from the win of a good fight. I soaked it in and wallowed in it, cheering and encouraging them when a small group started chanting my name.

“Hello?” I asked into the microphone once I had sat down and set up the headgear and controllers. I noticed that the technician had marginally improved the comfort of the headset and felt a pang of guilt that soon eased.

“Hellion, at last you’ve decided to join us!” a voice replied with a thick Eastern accent.

“Rex? What are you doing on my comms?”

“He’s here to work with you,” Julia’s voice interrupted. “This is not going to be a fight per se, more of a showcase of the tileguaress and her talents. It will be obvious from the very beginning that Rex’s lion has no chance but you must let him fight back a little to show some skill before you finish him off.”

This sort of thing was rare, although not unheard of. Hauxwell and Julia often work together and seem friendly so it seems reasonable that they made some kind of deal together. No doubt Julia will pay for the expenses of the soon to be dead lion.

“But surely no one would bet against me?” I puzzled. Rex scoffed at how arrogant it sounded even though he understood what I meant.

“They haven’t if they have any sense; this is just to introduce her to the audience. Make a loss now to insure future gain.”

“And Rex is okay with this?”

“I get handsomely paid from it,” he affirmed and I could just imagine his wonky grin. “It seems to me I have to do less work than usual so I am not bothered.”

I chuckled, as ever amused by Rex’s nonchalance.

“Alright, kids, visors down,” Julia interrupted. I could understand to some extent her calling me ‘kid’ as she had known me since age seventeen and my looks haven't matured much since then but Rex every bit the late-twenties working man that he did. Still, it was better than ‘runt’.

I did as instructed and was mildly alarmed when the crowd noises that had been grounding me were cut off a few moments later, leaving me feeling suspended in the confined darkness. It only lasted a few seconds before the screen booted up, startling me.

“Julia, you’re supposed to count us in,” I grumbled, slowly orientating to living in a new head.

“We had already wasted enough time talking, it seemed stupid to spend any more,” she snapped back. “Rex, you’re used to this lion right?”

“I have used him a few times before, yes,” Rex confirmed and then, because he clearly didn’t understand Julia’s hint about time wasted chatting, added, “It seems such a shame to let him die, if I’m honest. He’s a noble beast; strong and-” “I’m opening your hatch. Go stir up the crowd a bit while Ryan gets himself in the zone.”

“Yessir,” he breathed grumpily and presumably did as instructed. His voice had that distracted tone common with all pilots during a fight; like they’re not really there at all, distant and struggling to keep under the mental pressure.

“How is she?” Julia asked me.

I didn’t know the answer, having only opened my eyes, and so I began to stand. It took a moment to wield the limbs correctly, the movement at first being uneven and heavy, and I faltered a couple of times in standing. “It feels like…” I answered. “Like she doesn’t want me in her head.”

The moment I said the words I knew them to be true; the feeling of pressure inside my skull, the way I had to fight for each movement. The only explanation was that the animal herself was attempting to reject me.

“Stop being so dramatic, Ryan. You have a maximum of three minutes to get her under control before showtime.”

“Fine,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

Julia explained her big plan for a dramatic entrance whilst I half-listened and began pacing back and forth. The resistance in the animal seemed to be softening with time and before a minute had passed the movement felt almost natural, despite the ever presence of pressure inside my head. I couldn’t help grinning when I saw my reflection, the animal herself looking so much bigger and fiercer when upright and active as opposed to slumped dully in a corner. I unsheathed her claws and saw they were long and recently filed sharp, protruding from her overrsized tiger-paws. Her teeth when I opened her mouth were gleaming white fangs, contrast to the black of her fur and her eyes were the same goat-yellow that I had seen earlier. The muscles knotted across her body visibly rippled as I moved back and forth, tail swishing out randomly. I growled a little to test out her vocals but didn’t want to fully roar in case the audience could hear it over their cheering for Rex’s lion that was presumably already in the arena.

Fully prepared now, I spent the remaining minute staring intently at my reflection and running a claw along the metal casing of the device attached to the creature’s head. My real stomach began to twist a little with neves; the fight would be easy, I knew, but I had to do it perfectly, I had to make them love her.

No you don’t, idiot. Just let the beast speak for herself.

“Okay, kid, the hatch is opening in three seconds. Get ready and do exactly as I explained.”

I positioned myself as instructed facing the hatch and well back from the entrance as it opened. No light streamed through the gap, the audience bathed in darkness with only the dim glow of the holding pen to silhouette my figure as I very slowly approached the entrance. They hadn’t seen me yet and already the crowd were screaming wildly. I imagined how it would look to the cameras; the dark shape against the dark backdrop with only faint light to outline my stalking forward, eyes bright against my body and staring straight ahead. I stepped slowly, each pace measured and taking my time until my head was just out of the hatch and the audience quietened.

Suddenly I jumped forward, still in the dark, sprinting down the walkway only visible as a swift shadow. Seconds later I reached the cage and leapt down into it, lighting flashing on like the prelude to thunder.

And thunder it did as I opened my mouth and roared, showing all my glorious teeth. It was more the roar of a tiger than a lion; deep and guttural, explosive from the animal’s throat. The audience erupted into cheering as I stood proud only a moment before advancing toward the seemingly small lion before me.

I launched myself at him, knocking his body sideways against the concrete, claws piercing along his ribcage.

“Easy there, Hellion,” Rex complained in my ear. “We want this fight to last more than ten seconds.”

“Sorry,” I smirked, not meaning it a bit.

I did get off him though, allowing the creature the opportunity to stand up before I confronted him again with a series of sharp edged blows to the head and forelegs. The lion was roaring in response and striking out sporadically but they were easily brushed aside. Wearing him down was not taking very long and with occasional advice from Julia, Rex’s beast was soon pockmarked with bites and deep gashes, blood spilling freely onto the floor of the arena. The crowd were going crazy.

Whilst going in for another bite, Rex raised his paw and slashed across my face. Nothing was damaged, just a superficial wound to the cheek but even so I hisses and turned away. We began circling the cage, stalking each other carefully and I could see that Rex was already limping. An easy fight if ever there was one.

I roared again, this time at the crowd rather than my opponent. I looked over them as I circled, growling for their approval and showing off my creature’s impressive size and form. I caught eyes with the man I had seen earlier, the one with the covered face who made no reaction when I hissed at him. This time I could roar and I did so directly at him; he had the decency to flinch away and I thought I could see fear or at least awe in his visible eyes.

Distracted, Rex used this opportunity to charge at me from behind, leaping up and digging his claws into my back. I hit him away with some effort and he scampered back the the other side of the cage.

“Hey, that was hardly fair,” I complained at him.

“This whole fight isn’t fair. I needed to as least get one good attack in before you maul this poor lion to pieces.”

“Speaking of which,” Julia piped in. “I think it’s time we go in for the kill, hm?”

I frowned inside my visor. “We’ve only been fighting for five minutes,” I protested and heard Rex grunt in agreement.

“If we get this over with quickly it will reduce the damage caused to the tileguaress and it will leave the audience desperate to see more.”

Rex and I begrudgingly agreed that it was a good idea.

I turned to face him at least, and we squared off from opposite sides of the cage. The lion himself was not a bad specimen at all; larger than average with a thick dark mane running down to his belly and powerful limbs. Now, of course it was a patchwork of gashed and bitemarks, the tan fur matted with barely dried blood. One of the front legs was mangled badly enough to become almost useless.

I roared, he roared in response and then we leapt at each other. It was a colossal collision, the two great beasts wielding claws and teeth on hind legs in the hope of gaining a height advantage. A red display told me that I’d fractured a rib but it was hardly relevant as I toppled the other beast and landed on him with enough force to shatter half of his ribcage. The battle was over now; the lion could no longer stand, only wheeze on his side as the blood drained away.

I growled and stalked a circle round the heaving body, deciding which way to finish him off. I was struggling to recall the exact anatomy of a lion and with a further few deep wounds had yet to locate a major blood vessel that would end the creature’s life quickly. The blood was already sticking my paws to the concrete but the lion still lived, grunting with each of my poorly aimed blows.

At last I managed to pierce an artery in at the juncture of the hind leg and the body, causing whatever blood remained spray forcefully across the concrete, including over my body and face. I shook it off and snorted to clear my nose of it, blinked it out of my eyes as the body stilled and bloodflow turned to a trickle rather than a steam. I stood defiantly with one paw resting on the head of the dead creature and roared for a final time as the crowd screamed all about me.

“Exit now, Ryan. I want them desperate for more,” Julia commanded.

I left numbly, one foot in front of the other until I was in the holding pen, practically unscathed. My vision went black.

But the headset had not been disconnected. It was my eyes that were not seeing anything as the screen still displayed the small concrete room. I only saw black and the pain in my head returned in full twice over and there were screams in my ears that I couldn’t hear over my pounding heartbeat. Someone was shouting my name and something was clawing at the inside of my skull and somewhere my body was frozen still but I couldn’t feel it. Somehow I was still breathing even as my lungs burned and my nose was blocked and my mouth was gasping.

The screen turned off and I registered this as a different kind of black. Some of the pressure released from my brain, enough so that I could make a weak noise at the back of my throat, a cry for help. I could feel my body again, although still distant and dull. I wanted to rip off the headset that was pressing in on my head, threatening to crack it like an eggshell at any moment. I wanted to pull away my visor in the hopes of seeing something besides the swirling patterns of dark in the backs of my eyes.

As if in answer to my desires I felt hands frantically grabbing at my head and, however unwelcome their touch was, they released the headset and I could see again. Only visually though because what I was seeing didn’t seem to connect with my thoughts and at last my eyes rolled back into unconsciousness.

When I awoke in what felt like moments later I was lying down on the dentist-like chair in the Prep room. My technician was standing above me, brow furrowed with concern and owly eyes wide as he blinked down at me. He was dabbing some cotton below my nose and each time he took it away I could see it stained with a fresh spread of blood. I forced open my eyes to regard him properly and opened my mouth to ask a question.

“What-”

“What the hell just happened to him?” Julia screeched as she burst into the room. I winced and leaned back, eyes fluttering shut.

“I-I don’t know, ma’am,” he stuttered, still using one hand to wipe at the red leaking from my nose. “He sort of blacked out and his n-n-nose started bleeding and-”

Julia slapped the technician with the back of her hand, the crack of hard fingers colliding with soft cheek loud in the small room. He reeled back, looking more ashamed than frightened or angry as it would have made me.

“You are an incompetent child!” she snapped. “You are in charge of his medical and technical needs, no? It is your job to make sure things like this do not happen, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, but-” he hesitated when she glared blades into him and lowered his tone to a more defensive stance. “You did not let me examine the creature before he linked with it and so there was no way I could have predicted how his body would react. I’ve never seen such a violent rejection of the technology before.”

“Do you know the cause?”

“No. It could be he is overworked and the strain of the two fights today or maybe there’s something about the new animal that is incompatible with him...either way he needs a few days break and I need access to the tileguaress to see if I can help.”

I listened to them talk about me without interjection, mind still mixed up and confused as to what just happened. Julia ground her teeth in irritation.

“Fine; you can go see the creature in your own time, not during work hours. Ryan goes home now and can rest all he want but I need him back here on time in the evening. I already have him booked for two fights tomorrow and I can’t reschedule.”

“You can’t!” the technician blurted. “You can’t make him fight tomorrow, let alone twice. Look at him, he’s exhausted.”

I might’ve objected to this, claiming stubbornly that I was perfectly healthy, if he hadn’t ran his hand through my hair, that small soothing touch being almost enough to send me back to sleep.

“You do not get to decide when he fights,” Julia hissed.

“No, but I have to deal with the consequences.”

“Get out!” Julia snapped and pointed to the door. “I need to talk to Ryan alone and I’ve had enough of your insolence. He rests when I tell him he can, not before.”

The technician’s eyes linger on me a moment longer before narrowing as he stormed out of the room. My head lolled back as I sighed, wiping at the remaining blood on my nose with the back of my hand. Julia looked at me sternly and with a hint of pity.

“What do you want?” I groaned, the first full sentence I have managed since waking up.

“That fight was good. Short. It shouldn’t made you…” She gestured loosely at me.

“It did, though.”

“That boy is wrong, you know. He thinks you’re weak; you’re not. You can fight better and harder than anyone I’ve ever met,” she said softly. Her hyperbolous praise was beginning to concern me slightly. “You should see the crowd, Ryan, they love you. And I’m sorry it’s hurting you but if we hesitate for even a moment then they’ll lose interest so we have to keep going. I promise that we’ll make enough money so that after this you’ll never have to work again, okay?”

I nodded and sat up on the chair. “I’m not going to quit just because I got a nosebleed,” I smirked although I knew it was much more than that.

The corners of her mouth tugged into a small smile. “Good. You’ll be piloting the tileguaress again tomorrow; you can handle than, right?”

I glanced at the door, wondering if my technician was still waiting outside. He doesn’t think so. “Sure,” I replied.

“Go home now, Ryan, get some sleep,” she instructed, hand patting his shoulder as she turned to leave. “And when you get back here I want you to have named that creature.”

I agreed and left the room a short way behind her. I half-expected my loyal technician to be waiting in the corridor or perhaps Rex come to check I was alright. Instead, I found only warm, still air and a stifling urge to escape. I stumbled along the corridor to the changing rooms and dressed myself as fast as I could with fumbling fingers. I didn’t bother wiping away the eyeliner that had smudged long before, leaving the skin around my eyes streaked with grey and black. It didn’t matter; no one I cared about would see me.

I pulled my hood down to shade my face as I left the building because I knew there would still be some patrons lingering in the courtyard in the early morning light. I did not wish to grab their attention and they would certainly recognise me after today’s fights. As I paced quickly to the bus stop I saw a figure peel away from the deep shadow of a neighbouring industrial building. Whoever it was was far behind me, walking slow and I had no logical reason for the paranoia of being watched. I felt it all the same.

When I reached the road and leant against the broken plastic of the shelter I noticed the sleeping form of a young woman slumped in the corner, huddled in a ragged blanket and no shoes. I stood listening to her shaky breathing and waited for the bus, failing to resist the urge to see if the figure was still following me. I kept checking and every time could see nothing; only the concrete and brick of this industrial site, the weeds growing taller than people between cracked paving and glimpses of quick rats or thick pigeons all bathed in the dull brown of the morning.

The bus arrived on time. It was a older model than the one I had taken to work and it creaked as it came to a stop. The inside was predictably filthy so I chose the seat that I saw had the least visible signs of decay, the least oppressive odour being near the front. I was the only person at my stop so I expected the doors to shut right away instead of lingering open as they did. I thought perhaps that they were broken until a figure stepped through the door, said good morning to the bus driver and walked down the aisle past me, sitting down a few rows behind.

It was the young man I had spotted in the crowd earlier, the one I had roared at who wore a bandana over his face. Glaring at him as he walked by I was sure he had been the shadowy figure past the courtyard.

He’s not following you. You’re seeing things that aren’t there.

I tried to listen to music on the journey home but each song was too whiny and repetitive and made me want to scream. I kept the earphones in and listened to groans of protest the body of the bus made as it meandered its way through the street. My neck kept twitching to turn round and see if the guy was looking at me and each stop I waited tensely, hoping helplessly that he would get off the bus.

He didn’t. Or at least, not until just after I did.

I could hear his footsteps a few metres behind me, slower than mine for his longer legs. He was keeping my pace, keeping the same gap between us and keeping up with me no matter if I walked so fast it was practically a jog. The streets around were empty of activity and the shadows were still deep and ominous.

He could kill you. No one would even notice. I shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind but they kept resurfacing with every steady footstep on the path behind me.

The shop I had bought breakfast in yesterday was still open and so I took my chance to slip in there, meaning at least I could confront the stranger in the light. The same man from earlier was behind the counter, narrowing his eyes like earlier but more with tiredness than suspicion. What a boring job this would be, I thought. Every night the a scraggly few customers and the rest of the time silence. When I retire, this is the job for me.

I walked over to the barely cooled drinks cabinet and ran my finger over the bottles, pausing for a while over the beer, then cider, then some sort of cocktail thing. I sighed and grabbed a fizzy soft drink, surprisingly upmarket for this shop with a proper glass bottle. I kept glancing at the door, even as I was paying for it, and the stranger did not enter. I was too cynically minded to even think for a second that he had left me alone, knowing full well he would be lurking around some corner on the last few streets home.

Twisting the cap off the drink, I poured the oversweet liquid down my throat, not previously realising the full extent off my thirst. I left the shop hurriedly and continued my walk-skip-jog back home. I could hear him behind me, this time at a much greater distance. I wondered if he thought he was being subtle. I considered taking a wrong turning so that I wouldn’t lead him back to my house but there seemed to be little point as I’d have nowhere else to go and I knew he’d keep following.

I took one final swig of the drink, draining the remaining few drops into my mouth before holding the bottle tightly by the neck and slamming the base into the sharp concrete corner of a building. As I had hoped, the bottom of the glass shattered leaving sharp uneven spikes that glittered deadly in the early morning light. Although certainly not the perfect weapon, it might have served to make up for some of my lack of size and man-to-man fighting experience. I pivoted on my heels to face the man, now only a couple of metres behind, and raised the jagged weapon in his direction.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted because I needed to say something. My voice came out shriller than I intended and sounded painfully loud on the silent street.

“Calm down, kitten,” he replied, raising his arms in a display of innocence. His voice was infuriatingly patronising but also slow and slightly slurred. His movements too had a vaguely disconnected quality and his eyes appeared glazed over. Definitely drunk then. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then why are you following me?” I hissed, still gripping the broken bottle.

“I just wanted to talk, that’s all.”

I glared at him. He was taller than me by at least a head, broad shouldered and muscles scarily bulging underneath his plain t-shirt. He was wearing that cloth around the lower part of his face and head; if anyone saw him kill me, he’d never get recognised. It was a clever move.

“Who are you?” I asked, against any common sense. Fear is powerful.

It felt to me like he smirked under his mask but his eyes betrayed no hint of emotion. “Guess.”

“What?” I blurted.

“Come on, you’re a clever guy, right? So guess who I am.” His tone was surprisingly measured for how slurred and fuzzy his voice was.

I hesitated before eventually conceding to play along. “You’re a patron,” I mused. “You got drunk and bet a lot of money on one of my opponents, probably the snow leopard, and are now out for some revenge.”

“No.” There was no hint as to how close I was.

“You think I’m clever. You want me to throw a match and win you a lot of money in exchange for some in return.” People had offered me small fortunes to throw matches in the past but I’d never accepted their offers. I already had enough money.

“No.”

“You’re a crazed fan who followed me to my home looking for a chance to meet me.”

“In your dreams, kitten.” “What, then?” I snapped. “I don’t have a clue who you are.”

“My turn,” he stated. “Your name is Ryan Benton. You come from a family of four on the West side of the city, upper-middle class but you disguise your accent to fit in. You’ve been working as a pilot since the age of seventeen so it’s just gone your fifth anniversary of fighting in the cage. You specialise in felines even though Julia Lund always thought that your tactics were better suited to canines. She’s never told you that.”

I snorted at how ridiculous the idea was before frowning. It wasn’t true, was it?

“You live alone on this run-down estate yet you always insist on payments in cash; not the wisest move. It does however suggest that you want to leave this place but you haven’t yet decided where to go. You have no friends.”

At this, my mind flashed to the scitterish technician with the kind brown eyes. I quickly dismissed the idea. You don’t even know his name, he’s not your friend.

“So you’re a stalker, then?” I asked, trying to ease away the fear that had locked all my muscles.

“I do my research,” he shrugged. “But there’s one thing I still don’t understand; you have all the money you could ever need, you hate your job despite what you have people believe and you have no attachments here. Why don’t you just...leave?”

“Is that really what you came here to ask me?” I spluttered, laughing horsely. He barely blinked, face for what I could tell still stoney serious. I raised a brow at him. “Where would I got to? I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“I’m sure you could find some place, kitten.”

“Why, though? I’m…” I couldn’t bring myself to say happy. “...fine here.”

“Of course you are,” the unsettling man said without the slightest hint of sincerity. “You are the best at what you do, right? Don’t be modest with me, Ryan.”

I nodded. “People have told me that.”

“And does it never bother you that someone else might like their turn in the sun? Someday one of your come knocking on your door with a loaded gun and all your enhanced reflexes couldn’t stop a bullet being buried in your skull.” He glanced down to where my makeshift weapon was limp in my grasp. “I don’t think a broken bottle will help you then.” “Are you threatening me?” I asked and he turned to leave, walking down the road away from me. “Who the hell even are you?”

He stopped his walk suddenly, jerking to a halt about five metres away with his body still paused mid-stride. “I’m a pilot like you. We’re going to fight later today so I thought I’d gather a bit more data, see if I can find a weak point.” He was still facing away, although no longer moving. I was still firmly rooted in my stance on the pavement.

“I haven’t seen you before,” I called after him, against any rational thought. I should have just let him leave but I kept talking.

“I’m new.” He took a step before I stopped him by talking again.

“Did you get what you came here for?” My voice was wavering and high. Scared. “Do you think you can beat me?”

He turned his head over his shoulder to look me in the eye, his obviously drunken gaze holding mine surprisingly steadily. “Oh, kitten. I’m going to destroy you.”

He continued walking and my fear urged me to not let him leave, to not let him have the final word. “We’ll have to find out,” I said offhandedly, trying to act arrogant like Hellion would. “See you tonight.”

“I look forward to it.”

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