#i even cut that part where she gives (well. whistles) the code

[swallowedabug]

When the nights were long and the days were deep, there lived a warrior. And the thief who was about to save her life. // You lied, you know. You said the thief saved my life, but he didn't. I saved his. You saved each other.

KILLJOYS 4.01 The Warrior Princess Bride

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Visions of sugarplums

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x female reader

Content: Pining, workplace romance, fake dating if you squint, oh no we’re snowed in, mention of food, kissing, making out, mostly-non-explicit sex (under-18s, jog on), so many sweet pet names you’ll get cavities, romantic Jack because apparently I'm a sucker for that

Word count: ~4800 (yeah. Jack is a demanding muse)

Prompt: “Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last” (Let Her Go, Passenger), for @yespolkadotkitty‘s follower celebration writing challenge 🎉

Note: I said canon Whiskey who? This cowboy drinks respect women juice.

Part two: Kentucky welcome Part three: Just say you will

Taglist (if you’d like to be tagged, un-tagged, or make a request for future fics, feel free to let me know): @writemessystarwars @keeper0fthestars @flightlessangelwings @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @songsformonkeys @beccaplaying

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A whirl of snow stings your cheek like a slap as you hurry through the grounds of the posh ski resort that sprawls across the valley, dotted with cozy cabins and million-dollar chalets.

Your sheer stockings, low-cut dress, and teetering heels are no match for snow bursts and the wind that cuts through you like a  knife. Inwardly cursing your alter ego and her penchant for skimpy fashions, you tug your thin coat more tightly around you.

This mission was supposed to be a piece of cake. A few days at a luxe resort, posing with your partner as an arms dealer and his girlfriend to get close to your target, and everything was going swimmingly...until your search of the target’s study during a cocktail party was interrupted by two of his security staff making their rounds ahead of schedule. The adrenaline rush of your narrow escape is still humming in your veins.

Beside you, long strides making quick work of the path, Jack Daniels has transformed himself from intelligence agent to wealthy gun runner with the world on a string. The cashmere overcoat that cost more than your first car is the perfect finishing touch to his sharp suit, and his dark good looks stand out even in the hazy moonlight.

Rounding the corner of a chalet, Jack slows his steps to a stroll. A strong arm pulls you flush against his side as he walks, letting an easy laugh float on the wind like you’ve said something witty. Before you have time to wonder what’s going on, another couple materializes in the pool of light from a lamp, squinting against the gusts that throw fresh powder into the air like confetti.

“Evening,” Jack says with a tip of his hat and a winning  smile, the very picture of a genial Southern gentleman. “This weather sure is pickin’ up, ain’t it?”

The couple mutter their agreement  and hurry on their way. Once they’re out of sight Jack’s hand slides to the small of your back, guiding you as you both quicken your strides again. Your teeth are chattering by the time the wind blows you onto the porch of your own cabin, and in a fumble of hands on the doorknob you step together into the blessed stillness of the spacious room.

A  cheerful whistle pierces the air and you turn to find Jack brushing snow off of his black Stetson and favoring you with a lopsided smirk. Even damp with melting snow he manages to be striking, all sultry eyes and dashing mustache and wayward strands of dark hair curling over his  forehead.

“Nothin’ like a little skirmish to get the blood pumping.” He carefully sets the hat on the fireplace mantel to dry. “I feel like...”

“...A tornado in a trailer park,” you finish with him, earning one of those wide, dimpled grins that always dazzles you a little in return.

“Just so,” he says.

“That’s another one in the ‘win’ column.” You try to suppress a shiver as you pull the flash drive that might as well be a smoking gun from the cleavage of your dress. “A few bumps in the road, but we got what we needed.”

Jack ignores the congratulations, stepping close to take your chilled hands between his large ones. His hands aren’t much warmer than yours, but the thrill that trickles down your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

The frown lines between his brows deepen. “Darlin’, you’re colder than a well-digger’s belt buckle. Go on and have yourself a hot shower while I get a fire started and check in with HQ.”

“I can wait, I’ll help you,” you offer.

He shakes his head, already moving toward the fireplace. “Don’t you worry, sugarplum, ol’ Jack’ll have this place snug in no time. You just get comfortable.”

Helpless against the lure of hot water and fuzzy socks, you rummage in your suitcase for a change of clothes. Still, you stop at the bathroom door to look back at Jack where he’s stacking logs with the same determination furrowing his brow as when he’s reviewing dossiers or cleaning his guns.

The two of you have been almost inseparable for the year that you’ve been working for the Statesman agency. Even your code name was assigned with your partnership in mind, a little inside joke Champ never gets tired of telling when he introduces the two best agents in the New York office: “...Because you can’t have a Manhattan without Whiskey and Vermouth!”

Jack comes on as strong as his namesake liquor, but you’ve seen the  steely nature under his flashy Southern charm, the practice behind the effortless shows of skill, the tender heart he hides with bravado.

And he has no idea you’ve fallen in love with him.

As though he can feel your gaze, Jack looks up, his stern expression relaxing. He gives you a wink and waves one hand to shoo you along before getting back to his task.

With a sheepish smile, you duck into the bathroom and turn on the shower before you can do something stupid.

Like asking him to join you.

***

"Mission report, Agent?”

Champ’s projection flickers into the armchair across from Jack, looking like some kind of Halloween effect with the flames dancing over the logs in the fireplace behind him.

“We’ve got all the intel we need.” Jack adjusts his glasses, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. “Agents ready for pickup.”

“Glad to hear it. Where’s Vermouth?”

Jack glances toward the sound of running water. “She’s just showerin’ to warm up. We got caught in a snow flurry coming back to the cabin.”

“That so?” The ghost of a smile flits over Champ’s face. “I thought you’d want to be the one warmin’ her up.”

Jack’s not sure if he’s more annoyed by the teasing, or how quick he is to take the bait. “Champ, this ain’t a Fourth of July picnic. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m on a delicate mission with my partner.”

“Now, don’t get your feathers ruffled, son,” Champ says mildly, reaching for a highball glass. “You confided in me about your feelings, and I’m just givin’ you a little nudge of encouragement.”

“I did not confide in you.” Jack leans forward to jab a finger at the hazy image of his boss. “You tested Ginger’s new truth serum on me.”

Champ’s grin is distinctly unrepentant. “Well, you looked like a man who needed to get somethin’ off his chest. ‘Sides, I won twenty bucks from Tequila for being right.”

Jack only grunts, slumping on the couch again. “Your granny’s special mint julep recipe, my ass.”

“Jack, she’s a pretty girl. Smart as that whip of yours. You think you’ll be the only one to notice? Anybody can see Vermouth thinks the world of you, but one of these days she’ll be wearin’ another man’s ring if you don’t stop pussyfooting around and make good on all that flirtin’ you do.”

That idea settles in Jack’s stomach like a bad oyster.

Of course, Champ has a point.

You are pretty. No, scratch that...beautiful. You’re a hell of a good agent -- the quickest route to Jack’s bad side is to suggest otherwise -- but you’re so much more than that. Your sweetness and spirit are more than a man like him can hope to deserve, but damn if the way your eyes light up when you smile doesn’t thaw something long dormant in his chest.

If he’s been hell-bent on keeping things professional between you, his dreams are anything but. When he closes his eyes he sees you, soft and yearning and his. His to have and hold until he wakes up aching, with your phantom touch lingering on his skin.

He’s starting to forget why professionalism was so important to him in the first place.

“Champ, you got anything else related to this mission? Been a long day here.”

“Matter of fact, I do.” Thankfully, Champ has the grace to go along with the change of subject. “That storm’s kickin’ up too much snow to get a jet in there. You’ll have to hunker down and wait for a pickup in the morning.”

Well, if the universe wants to hand Jack another night in your company, who is he to argue?

“Copy that,” he says out loud. “We’ll await contact in the morning.”

Champ smiles. “Plenty of time for any long-overdue conversations you might want to have.”

“You’re startin’ to break up. Whiskey out.” Jack pulls off the glasses and tosses them unceremoniously onto the coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Sparing a glance at the darkening sky outside the window, he hauls himself off of the couch to put another log on the fire, trying not to think about how Champ just might be right.

***

When you emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, Jack is lounging on the couch in front of a crackling fire. He’s traded the designer clothes for jeans and a faded button-down shirt and managed to tame his tousled hair. You know he takes pride in his trademark hat and bespoke suit jackets, but there’s something about him when he’s dressed down and softer around the edges that tugs at your heart.

He looks up when you come into the room, cheek dimpling with a smile. “Well, don’t you look like a new woman? Thought you were fixin’ to turn into an icicle on me for a minute, there.”

“Here’s hoping our next assignment involves sandy beaches and umbrella drinks.” You hug your sweater around yourself. “What’s the word from Champ?”

“Looks like we’re here for the night on account of this storm.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind rattles the windows, making you jump.

“Come and have a seat by the fire, sweetheart.” Jack picks something up from the coffee table and waves it at you. “Got a protein bar and some water for you. I don’t know about you, but a handful of damn canapes ain’t going to see me through to morning.”

“You sure know how to wine and dine a girl, cowboy,” you tease, dropping onto the couch.

His laugh is as good-natured as ever. “When we get back home, I’ll cook you the best steak you’ve ever had.”

“The best steak since the last one you cooked for me?"

“Well, a man should always be improvin’ his technique to keep a woman happy.” His dark eyes twinkle with mischief, and you roll your eyes but can’t quite smother a laugh.

The protein bar tastes something like chocolate-flavored chalk but you’re hungry enough to make quick work of it, washing it down with gulps of water. Jack nudges your shoulder and you find him offering his flask with a wry smile.

“’Fraid it’s all I've got in the way of dessert.”

The whiskey inside burns its way down your throat and mellows to spread its warm glow through your chest. With a sigh, you hand back the flask, watching Jack’s throat ripple with the swig he takes before reattaching it to his belt.

The liquor’s fire contrasts with the chill of the day in your bones, setting off a shiver that shudders through your shoulders and arms.

“Honey, you still cold?” Jack’s voice is rough-edged with weariness and whiskey.

“Well, I like a nice walk in the snow as much as the next girl, but I was half naked in that ridiculous outfit,” you say dryly.

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. There’s something unreadable in those fathomless eyes as he watches you for a moment before opening one arm, arching a brow in invitation.

Some tiny, winged creature takes up residence in your chest where your heart should be, and you immediately scold yourself. Jack’s your partner and your friend. Of course he has the decency not to want to see you miserable after a long, cold day.

So you tell yourself, even as you go to him, nestling into his side and letting his arm come around you to hold you close. His hand is relaxed on your shoulder, his thumb trailing back and forth in a gentle rhythm.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You feel like home, you think.

“Better.”

With Jack’s heartbeat steadfast and comforting under your palm, the last of your reserve dissolves. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and melt into his warmth, breathe in his scent, musky and tinged with leather and sandalwood.

Quiet descends on the room, fleece-soft and a little sleepy, as you stare into the fire and let your mind wander. The hypnotic trace of Jack’s thumb over your shoulder is the only indication that he’s still awake.

You sneak a look at him. His eyes glitter black in the gathering dark and his profile is regal, carved into the stern dips and hollows of a Roman sculpture by the play of light and shadow from the fire.

He’s beautiful. You wonder if anyone’s ever told him.

“Jack?”

He hums in answer, almost the purr of a contented cat.

“Do you ever think about retiring?”

A soft snort of laughter rumbles against you. “You callin’ me old?”

“We both know I’d punch anyone who did,” you scold, giving his chest a playful swat. “I just mean...do you ever imagine doing something else? Something more peaceful?”

“Well, I’ve got a patch of land in Kentucky with a farmhouse. One day I suppose I’ll give up the apartment in the city and trade the Silver Pony in for a ridin’ mower.”

You frown. It’s a jarring reminder that after all this time, Jack still has his secrets. “You do?”

He nods. “It’s been in my family for generations, my granddaddy left it to me. Always thought I’d raise a family there. Houseful of kids, dogs, the whole nine yards,” he says ruefully.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he never did.

The tragic loss of Jack’s wife and unborn son is no secret in the agency, and you might know better than anyone about the hole they left in his life. It’s always broken your heart for him, but the idea of this family home that sits empty but for his ghosts makes it suddenly, achingly easy to imagine Jack building a cradle in the barn and reading bedtime stories and teaching little ones to ride their first horses.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” you offer. “You never know.”

He squeezes your shoulder for an instant, a silent recognition of your kindness, before going on with a breezy sigh. “What about you? You fixin’ to go plant yourself by a pool somewhere with a fancy drink in one hand and a book in the other?”

“What, and not get to play fake criminals at cocktail parties with you?” you scoff. “Not a chance.”

His smile is sharp and sweet as molasses. “Well, I'm always happy to escort the most beautiful woman in the room.”

There’s something so plain and sincere about the sentiment that you’re taken aback.

Jack throws around compliments like other people talk about the weather. But you know when he’s just greasing the wheels of conversation, filling the space between words...and this isn’t it.

Ignoring the rush of heat into your cheeks, you default to the safety of humor. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Agent Whiskey.”

The smirk, the laugh, the sly innuendo you’re expecting don’t come. He shifts to look at you, so close and so handsome it hurts, and the naked admiration in his eyes makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Ain’t flattery, sugarplum.” His thumb travels fleetingly to the bare skin of your neck above the collar of your sweater. “You’re as pretty as a Kentucky sunrise and twice as bright, and that’s the truth.”

“Jack, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me...that anyone’s ever said to me,” you blurt out, and mean it.

His dimple deepens, and a dash of his usual devilish charm flashes across his face. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest with each other, I must confess to thinkin’ lots of complimentary things about you.”

You can barely hear him over the hammering of your heart.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls. The flicker of his glance to your lips is so quick, you could almost miss it.

But you don’t.

Maybe it’s the whiskey, maybe it’s the wind wailing in the eaves, maybe it’s the thrill of almost being caught by the bad guys, but something prods you on, dares you to play with fire. Your hand shifts almost imperceptibly on his chest, letting the tip of one finger find the warm, tanned skin at the open neck of his shirt.

“And what are you thinking right now?”

Something hot and swaggering flares in his eyes and you know, you know he’s picked up your gauntlet.

“Well, sweetheart...” His hand moves from your shoulder, trailing lazily to the nape of your neck. He tilts his head to watch goosebumps erupt in the wake of his touch before turning that smoldering gaze on your face again. “Right now I’m wonderin’ what you’d say if I were to kiss that pretty mouth.”

“I’d probably ask what took you so long.”

You barely finish the sentence before his hands cradle your face and his lips are on yours, stealing your breath with their plush softness.

Nothing in your experience of lukewarm flirtations and flaky boyfriends has prepared you for Jack’s affections. He’s a force of nature, possessive and generous by turns, and his approving hum when you open for him and the hot slide of his tongue against yours have you clinging to him like you’ll drown if you let go.

It’s only when you’re nearly dizzy that you break away for air. “Jack,” you whisper, sinking a novel of emotions into one syllable.

His lips brush your forehead. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. My beautiful girl.”

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.” You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes against the glaring, shimmering audacity of the words. “I love you.”

The exhale that fans over your cheek is your name. Your real name, the one thing he almost never calls you. His hand is gentle, tilting your chin up. “Look at me.”

You gather the nerve to lift your eyes to his, only to find them soft. Happy.

“Honey, I love you.” His dimple makes an appearance with an apologetic smile. “Hell, I was smitten from the first handshake. But you were a new agent, and things were workin’ out so well, I never wanted to upset the applecart by tellin’ you so.”

Your laugh is breathless with relief. “Well, then,” you say, toying with the button that stands between you and his bare chest. “I guess we’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” With the agility of his training, he hooks one hand around the back of your knee and the other around your waist and moves you to straddle his lap. His big hands splay across your back to pull you snugly against him as he traces the line of your jaw with his nose. “Now where were we, darlin’?”

Your head is spinning with the nuzzling of his nose over your pulse point and the broad warmth of his chest pressed to yours and the growing hardness under the tight denim of his jeans.

“You were--” You break off in a gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck. “You were kissing me better than anyone else ever has.”

“Baby, I’m gonna make you forget about ever kissin’ anybody else.”

You don’t bother telling him you’re way ahead of him.

Jack’s hair is soft and thick when you weave your fingers into it like you’ve always wanted to, stroking where it hints at curling at the nape. When your hand slips under his collar to shape the strong column of  his neck, caress the vulnerable skin under his jaw where his pulse is thundering in time with yours, the low growl in his throat sends heat spiraling straight to your core.

He surges up to capture your mouth again, a hot, demanding crush of lips and tongues that makes you move restlessly against him, wanting more. He doesn’t miss it, and when he slides one hand to your lower back to press you even closer on his muscled thighs every nerve in your body lights up.

“I want you, Jack,” you plead between kisses. “Need you.”

His hands slide underneath your sweater and come to rest, warm and calloused, on the soft skin over your ribs. When you least expect it, he gentles the kiss into something almost chaste and when he pulls away, just enough to look into your face, his eyes have gone solemn.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart. I will.”

You could burst with love for this man.

“I’ll strangle you with your own lasso if you do.”

Jack barks out a surprised laugh, lighting up with a grin before he goes in for another kiss. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” His voice is silky against your lips. “Gonna give you everything you need.”

His hands move, bringing your sweater with them to whisk it over your head, and you feel the weight of his appreciative gaze roving over your bare skin and sheer bra.

“I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything so gorgeous.” His hands are back at your sides, fingertips teasing at the edges of the purple lace that leaves little to the imagination. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re blown dark and deep with desire. “And I reckon you’d look even prettier spread out for me on that big bed.”

That’s all it takes to have you scrambling to your feet, shimmying out of your leggings and socks as you cover the handful of steps to the luxurious bed that faces the fireplace. You reach for the clasp of your bra, but a click of Jack’s tongue halts your movement.

“Slow down, there, honey.” There’s a hint of command bleeding into his voice that you know well from missions, the sound of him giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed that always kindles a flame in you. “Let your man unwrap his gift.”

A blush warms your cheeks and trickles down your neck as you drop your hands to your sides and wait for him beside the bed, anticipation tingling in your limbs.

Jack has beautiful hands, as graceful as they are strong, but they’ve never been so mesmerizing as they are now, making quick work of his shirt’s buttons and carelessly shedding it to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before -- it’s hardly avoidable when you spend most of your lives together -- but never like this. Never when you’re openly staring at his broad shoulders and lean waist and the smooth planes of his chest, all bronzed in the glow of firelight. And certainly never when he’s calling himself your man and looking at you like he’s starving and you’re his favorite meal.

His arms slide around your waist and the heated press of his skin against yours tears a soft whimper from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, blends it with his own hum of satisfaction in a searing kiss.

He keeps his lips on yours even as he eases you back onto the bed, laying you down on the fluffy comforter with his hand cradling the back of your head. He stands again for as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and kick them away before he’s crawling over you, settling his warm weight over your body and into your welcoming arms. You’re so swept up in the kiss that reunites you that you barely notice the skillful flick of his fingers that frees you from your bra...until he bends his hot mouth to your breasts and lightning spikes through your veins.

“So perfect,” he praises against your tender skin. “So good for me.”

He’s perfect. Even more than you’ve imagined on the lonely nights when you give yourself over to fantasies just like this, of Jack pressing you into a mattress and murmuring sweet sentiments in that liquor-and-honey voice while his clever hands find you more than ready for him.

A whine escapes you when the cool air of the room suddenly replaces the heat of his body, leaving you bereft.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Jack’s voice drops an octave, even as a smirk coaxes his dimple out of hiding. “I said I’d take care of you.”

Warm hands slide your panties down your legs and off, and he strips off his own boxers to come back to you in all his naked glory.

His strong biceps cage you in and his mouth finds yours again as your hands roam greedily over golden skin and taut muscles and the hot, hard length between you.

“Jack, you’re so beautiful,” you sigh, over his panting breaths into your neck. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you, for so long.”

He raises his head to look at you, lush lips parted and eyes blazing. “Honey, you’ve got me. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He kisses you like he’s sealing a promise.

And then he’s inside you, like he belongs there. Maybe he always has.

Every surge of his body, every stroke of his hands, every gritted curse and word of praise pressed to your skin makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you’re clutching blindly at his back and keening his name like an incantation, his voice is a desperate rasp in your ear.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.”

You do. And he does.

And when he grips bruises into your thigh and shudders in your arms and buries a broken declaration of love in your hair, you know beyond a doubt there will never be anyone else.

***

If there’s a heaven, Jack’s pretty sure he's died and gone there to be lying in a cloud of down comforters with you tucked close to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and legs tangled with his own. The bare skin of your back is petal-soft under his stroking fingers as he watches the firelight dance on the ceiling.

“I love you, Jack,” you murmur, and his heart swells too big for the prison bars of his ribs.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He laces his fingers with yours on his chest, brings them to his lips. “You know, I dreamed about this,” he confesses.

You raise your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. “You did?���

“I did. Felt a little guilty about it, if I’m bein’ honest, but I don’t guess I could help it.”

“I won’t hold it against you.” Your eyes sparkle at him in the dim light. “Did I live up to your dreams?”

He smiles, sweeping a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Oh, honey, they couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.”

You look pleased with that answer, nuzzling a kiss into his neck before settling your head on his shoulder again.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he muses. “Have you in my own bed.”

He feels you smile against his skin. “As many nights as you want, cowboy.”

“Careful, there. I might take you at your word, you’ll go home and find movers at your place.”

You sigh out a laugh that’s music to his ears and draw idle shapes on his skin with your fingertips in the quiet.

“Jack,” you say again, soft as a peach blossom.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Will you take me to that farmhouse sometime?”

His greedy heart can already see you there, breathing life into the place.

You, perched on the kitchen counter, feet swinging in time with your chatter while he cooks for you. Sitting with him on the porch swing to watch the sunset splash its tapestry of pink and orange and lavender across the sky. Soft and sweet underneath him in the big cherry wood bed, greeting the pale glow of morning with sleepy eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

A backyard wedding.

Tiny, mewling cries in the night and your silhouette framed with moonlight from the picture window while you nurse a baby who has Jack’s eyes back to sleep.

The peace that washes over him is too good to be true, too hopeful for his battered heart, too honest for his life of compromises.

He closes his eyes, drinks it in anyway. Claims it. Squeezes you a little closer in his arms.

This is the dream that lasts.

“That’s a promise, sugarplum.”

[writer-panda]

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

Chapter 1  -|-  Previous -|- Next

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

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As she hanged up, Marinette rushed to the doors and let her mother in. The previous night she spent mostly on working with Kwamis to prepare. Most were in agreement that she needed to act and not leave her kitty’s fate to chance. Tikki protested for a bit, but in the end, she saw that there was no changing Marinette’s mind and joined in on scheming. Except she had no way of tracking Adrien. Not… until she received the call!

Except now her mother entered. Sabine greeted her daughter by giving her a bone-crushing hug. 

“I was so worried! When the police called I couldn’t just sit there and wait!”

“Maman. It’s alright. I’m okay. See?” The girl did break away from the hug and smiled.

“I know. But I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Maman… Adrien’s been kidnapped.”

“I know.” Her mother’s expression didn’t reveal any emotions now.

“I… he’s been miserable ever since that wedding mess, and now this.”

“I know.” Again, nothing. 

“He’s my friend.”

“Not the love of your life?” Sabine questioned with a bit of amusement in her voice.

“No. He doesn’t need another fangirl. He needs a friend. Someone who can support him. I… I wasn’t a good friend before this…” She didn’t reveal that she wasn’t a great partner either. Chat hid things well, but from time to time his shell cracked. She should’ve seen the signs. She could’ve done something. Or at least do something with Lila. She had connections and Lila deserved a lawsuit or five. 

“Oh, sweety. You were a great friend. You are a great friend. I’m happy to see you’re not about to chase after some misguided love, but after friendship.”

“I know I’m only… wait, what?” Marinette.exe stopped working. If the problem keeps repeating itself, please contact customer service or the nearest Kwami. 

“When I was fifteen, I dropped out of… school to explore the world on my own. It wasn’t until a few years later that I met your father.” Sabine said in a bit dreamy voice like she was reminiscing. “We had several adventures across Europe before finally settling down in Paris.”

“But… Papa’s a baker.” Marinette protested. “I thought he was always a baker, like his father.”

In response, her mother chuckled. “No. Your father had much more in common with your Nona than with his father. I met him when he was fighting in an underground cage-fighting club.”

“Whoa…” Marinette’s eyes widened. That was a story she never heard before. “So how did you two got together?”

“I will tell you some other time. The point is, I know that even if I took you to Paris with me, you would’ve run away to look for your friend.”

“Maman!” For a moment, the girl wanted to protest. But then she decided that there was no point. “Yes… you’re right. But I can’t just let it happen! If the police find him, he will end up back with his father!”

“I know. And what’ll you do about it?” Her mother had this mysterious smirk on her face.

“I guess… I need to be the one to find him. I will get him situated somewhere safe. Maybe stay with him for a bit. He’s smart. And a quick learner.” He mastered being a superhero faster than I did.

“Good. Then you have my blessing.” 

“I can’t just abandon-” Marinette.exe stopped working again. Contacting the customer service might be in order. Technically, Sabine kept hinting about it. Practically, Marinette would miss a clue even if she was holding a gun to its head. “I have your what now?”

“You can go. Save him. Find yourself. And maybe kick some asses while you’re at it.”

“Most parents would be worried sick about their not-yet-adult children running off to an adventure.”

“You wanted to know how I met your father. The answer is I was the first to beat him in that cage.” Sabine’s smirk was replaced with a serious expression. “Of course I will worry, sweety. I’m your mother. But holding you back now will not help you. You’re a strong young woman and to be fair, I’m not sure how we could hold you down. You have steady access to the rooftop and two years of parkour training.”

“What now?”

“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice you sneaking off through the balcony?”

“And you didn’t even tell me?” 

“It would be hypocritical of us.” Sabine defended. “And if the worse came to happen, I had several… souvenirs from our travel around the world.”

“Thank you, Maman. I promise I will come back; And call you often. Well, maybe not too often.” Marinette already dashed to start packing. 

“Of course you will. And don’t get into too much trouble. I would hate to have to go and find you.” Sabine threatened with a bright smile on her face. 

“I’ll try, Maman.” The girl was only half-listening now. She couldn’t waste any more time. She learned how to trace the call about one-and-a-half years ago when she was still a bit ‘stalker-ish’. 

Sabine watched her daughter with amusement. So many memories returned to her now. Youth mostly well-spent if someone asked her. The ‘mostly’ part came to bite her just that moment as her phone pinged. She quickly checked the message and frowned. 

“I’m sorry, my little cupcake, but I need to go check it. An old friend turns out to be in town.” 

“I’ll call you later!” Marinette called from where she was furiously working on her laptop. 

When Sabine left, the kwamis swarmed her immediately.

“Your mom is so cool!” one of them cooed.

“And she’s one bad-”

“Roaar!” Tikki scolded the tiger kwami. 

“What’s the plan, pigtails?”

“Adrien’s call was made from within Gotham City. He’s still here for now. I also managed to track him to Burnley.”

“Didn’t that mercenary you called mention some Lawton?” Trixx offered.

“Yeah. I did try to search him up, but the only one with that name that I managed to find is Zoe Lawton. Wait. There is more!” She beamed up. “An old article in some Mexican newspaper.” She clicked on the link and read it aloud for her co-conspirators “Floyd Lawton, also known as Deadshot, was recently arrested after an assassination of a small group of smugglers. It is yet unknown if it was a hit or was it personal.” The article went on, but there was nothing more of interest.

“So the guy’s a mercenary too? That’s good. He’ll bring Adrien to you.”

“Not so fast. I remember hearing about him. Deadshot is one of the few mercenaries who try to keep some resemblance of a code. He’s also noted to be soft around children.”

“Isn’t Adrien almost an adult though?” Kaalki asked rather uncaring.

“Have you met the guy? He’s a literal ray of sunshine!” Plagg protested.

“So… he won’t deliver him and won’t return him.” Seeing that some Kwamis didn’t understand her logic, she clarified, “I don’t think that if he learns how Gabe treated his son he will be in any hurry to return him.”

“That makes sense.” The little being all nodded in agreement.

“So what’s the alternative?”

“He could adopt him,” Ziggy suggested.

“Please.” Marinette dismissed the idea. “He’s not Bruce Wayne.”

“He could smuggle him out of the country.”

“No. Everyone’s looking for him.” Roaar countered. “He would try to lay low somewhere.”

“Burley is large and full of potential safe houses.” Marinette started to think. “But there is also a large concentration of organized crime. Alone, we would have a hard time, but if we got them to help…”

“Is it wise to involve more criminals into your schemes Marinette?” Tikki asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry, sugarcube. To catch a bird you need wings. To catch a criminal you need crime.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“What’s the worse that could happen? I will go there as Seamstress. I won’t even appear in person. Right, Trixx?”

“You can count on it.” The fox kwami grinned.

“But… but…” Tikki wanted to scream her head off. Why did the previous guardian choose a juvenile criminal for her holder. Marinette used to be such a sweet girl. Where did Tikki go wrong?

---------

It was dark when an eerie mist filled one of the less-than-legal clubs in Burnley. From among the smoke, a figure entered. She was wearing a godet-type black dress with a side-cut that reached to her belt. The dress was overlayed with a very visible deep-blue corset that pronounced her blue eyes. It had some intricate laces on it. She also wore a puffy-sleeved blazer (also black, but with a dark blue finish) with large and very pronounced cuffs. Around her neck was a white double jabot fixed to a choker with a large black gem surrounded by diamonds. Her long deep-blue hair was let loose and hung over her shoulder. A simple black-and-white domino mask hid her features.

As she marched, one of her legs shifted the fabric to reveal she was wearing dark-blue socks reaching above her knee and black leather boots. A knife was strapped to the right one and several leather strips around her thigh and knee suggested she had more weapons on her. 

One of the men whistled.

“Looks like the entertainment arrived, boys!” Several cheered at that shout. At least until the man who dared to say it ended pinned to a wall with a rather large needle holding his jacket in place. It was also uncomfortably close to his jugular. 

“I’m not entertainment.” The Seamstress hissed. 

“Then you’re not invited.” Several men got up, many were holding now-empty bottled which they turned into impromptu weapons. 

“You will help me find what was taken from me.” She demanded.

“Yeah? Or?” One of the men laughed before charging at her. 

What followed next was perhaps the strangest carnage Gotham City has seen in years. The Seamstress danced between the attacks with almost unnatural grace and agility while stabbing the attackers in various places with large needles. None of the hits were life-threatening and most would heal within hours. The wounds were meant to incapacitate with minimal long-term damage.

By the time she reached the far end of the bar, almost every man was laid out on the ground groaning in pain or scrambling in fear.

“I am not asking. You will be rewarded for your obedience.” She then disappeared into the back alley. One brave/foolish enough who still had some fight left rushed after her, only to find the place completely empty. 

On the rooftop, Marinette let out her breath. She didn’t use any miraculous for that one, but she kept Plagg’s ring on. Chat Noir wasn’t seen in some time, so it would’ve been easier to explain that the ring was stolen by a criminal. She would really need to thank her mother for all the training she forced on her ever since the Akumas started to appear, as well as the lessons during her childhood. Those were all only the most basic grunts tonight, but she got their attention. One of them would run to their boss. There, she could actually do what she planned. 

--------

Just like she predicted, some of the less injured guys left the bar in hurry and drove their bikes to another part of the district. They disappeared into a three-story building. The windows were boarded, but some light seeped through on the top floor, so that is where she climbed. Indeed, by hanging on the edge of the window sill, she was able to hear the panicked screams inside.

“...and then she just disappeared! It was like that damn Bat, only much more terrifying. She was so small, and yet there was this… this… aura of power.”

Thank you Chloe for being queen B. Marinette stifled a laugh. Mimicking Chloe was the right choice. 

“Probably another one of his useless brats.” The boss dismissed them. Marinette decided that it would make the best impression if she contradicted him right now.

She wondered for a moment how to enter the armored building. She could rip the boards away and enter that way, but she was aiming for ethereal, not brute. In the end, she pulled a pair of glasses and put them over her mask. 

“Kaalki. Would you please help me break into headquarters of a criminal organization to scare them into serving me?”

“How many sugar cubes is it worth?”

“Ten. No more, no less.” Marinette had a small window of opportunity. 

“You’ve got a deal.” 

“Kaalki! Full gallop!” The light enveloped Marinette. When it died down, she was still in her outfit, only now the blue accents were brown instead. The gem on her neck held the symbol of a horse miraculous. “I love magical clothes. So easy to maintain the image.” Marinette muttered before a blue portal opened before her and she entered.

Inside, the five men (two who came to report, the boss, and his two guards) watched as the blue portal opened before them. The mist started to pour through it as well as through the boarded window. A figure calmly stepped inside.

“I didn’t expect the Gotham criminal organizations to be so… cliche.” She commented. Two needles sailed through the air and pinned the guards to the wall. Her horseshoe weapon waited patiently on her back should she need to use it.

“Who… who’re you?”

“Me? Oh. I’m The Seamstress. I had business in Gotham, but a fool dared to double-cross me. I need to find him.”

“Why… W-why shou-should w-we help… help you?” One of the guys from the bar asked.

“Oh. I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you’ll help me.” She informed. “I’m about to make you an offer you shouldn’t refuse.” 

The boss was now shaking. Damn city with its damn overpowered supervillains. They think they can simply run things as they want. First Red Hood took out most of the top brass of the underworld and then this? Working on his father’s farm was sounding more and more appealing. Then there was the shouldn’t. The reference to the classic movie was not lost, but she said shouldn’t. Not can’t. Once more he remembered how Red Hood took over. Submit, or die. This was the same. She clearly wouldn’t hesitate. He liked to think he could see those things. 

“I’m waiting.” The lady growled. “I’m not used to waiting.” Channeling Chloe is actually fun here. 

“Fine. You can have my seat. I’m going back to dad’s farm. Just let me go and you can have them.” The boss stood from his seat and motioned for her.

Marinette.exe is not responding. Do you want to execute the process? Not yet. 

She managed to keep enough cool to smile and take the seat, although she didn’t even register what was that. 

She would panic later. For now, tracking Adrien. “I need to find where Floyd Lawton, also called Deadshot, is hiding with my… asset.”

“It… I will see to it, Boss… lady.” One of the guys from the bar nodded very fast before rushing out of the room.

“I… will bring you the list of current assets.” One of the guards informed and walked somewhere. They were used to aggressive takeovers. This was their third. Boss change, guards remain. This was honestly the first time the previous boss managed to escape with his life. 

Meanwhile, Marinette finally realized what just happened. She really wanted to hit her head on the desk, but she was too afraid to show any signs of weakness. Why did she end up in this mess again?

----------

Sabine Cheng was waiting for her plane back when an airport guard approached her.

“Lady Cheng?” Sabine’s blood froze for a moment, but she refused to show any outward reaction at her past codename. “There is a man who wishes to discuss some… past debts.”

Damn it. And here she thought that bald bastard would forget about her. He had several more suitable people. He knew the risks of angering her.

Then again, she knew not to anger him either.

“Lead the way.” Her face was stone cold as she stood up. 

Inside a comfortable private lodge sat a blad man in a suit more expensive than the yearly revenue of her bakery. 

“Ah… Lady Cheng. I’m so happy you could’ve joined us.”

Sabine looked around and noticed that there was another man there, standing slightly in the shadows. A man she came to despise just as much as Luthor. Standing there was Gabriel Agreste.

“I can’t return the pleasure, Luthor.” She snarled, not letting her gaze drop from Agreste.

“Figured you’d say that.” The billionaire laughed. “But it doesn’t change that you came.”

“Be quick. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“About that.” Lex smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t be on that plane. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sadly, my calendar is full for the foreseeable future.” She retorted coldly.

“Then you will clean it. Unless that is, you want me to tell my good friend the president about your little assignment for me twenty years ago. If I recall, your pardon didn’t cover that particular crime.” The man chuckled.

The only upside of this whole situation to Sabine was that Agreste finally realized exactly who she was. Or at least how dangerous she was. The deal she made ensured that Lady Cheng disappeared from everywhere but some people’s memory. To her dismay, Lex didn’t forget. And he still had that damning evidence.

She also knew exactly what was the job.

“I don’t do jobs involving kids, Luthor.” She seethed through gritted teeth. It wouldn’t matter, but she hoped it would at least give him a pause.

“Adrien Agreste was about to be married. I think that can calm your conscience. He was all but adult.” That despicable man dismissed her concern, as she predicted.

“I’m a little rusty. Don’t you have someone younger? Someone who would actually want to do this?” Sabine deadpanned. She kept true to the deal she made for her and her husband’s pardon and didn’t do any… extracurricular work.

“Alas, the fact you’re unwilling is why I need you. You see, the client, whoever they are, picked Agreste Jr. as a target in a… battle royale of sorts. It quickly stopped being about the ludicrous money reward. It’s now about proving who’s the best. And they won’t stop until they deliver him to that mysterious Seamstress.”

“So what do you want? I’m sure you could’ve bought some of them to drop the glory part.” She really didn’t want to do this.

“I offered to pay five times the price, but most of the competent ones want a shot at whatever that job is. A mysterious benefactor with no history, nonexistent in any database in the world, paying a small fortune for a simple job and offering further work? Doesn’t it sound familiar?” Lex reclined in his chair and smiled.

“One job only. I want everything you have on me. And ten times the bounty.” She noted his discomfort. “Don’t give me that look, Luthor. You can afford it. My daughter’s about to start a university.” Sabine turned to Gabriel. “I must thank you for the idea. Homeschooling really helps when one is gifted.”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Lex grumbled. If he didn’t know the quality of her works, he would’ve laughed at the price. Except he foolishly revealed that he was desperate.

“Oh, I’m sure we can.” Sabine smiled. She was like a cat that just caught a mouse.

[eloquent--asshole]

My Date With the President’s Son

a/n: I’ve been getting a lot of anons recently letting me know they couldn’t find this piece. Well... I found out it was deleted. So, here is a repost of My Date With the President’s Son! I was so sad when I found out it was gone :( BUT IT’S BACK!!! :) And much love to all of you that let me know it was missing! Come talk to me about this, future ideas, or anything! --PJ

hey, hi, hello! this is my submission for the Pick Your Poison fic challenge! I went with a good ole fake dating piece. Also, sidenote: this is the first pic i’ve actually decided to post! Please feel free to message me with any comments, questions, or concern. Also, an absolutely MASSIVE shoutout to @for-fucks-sake-h, @oh-honey-styles, and @andwhenshesays for creating this and letting me be a part of it! I’m so happy I decided to do this even though I was an absolute mess about it! Buckle up kids, it’s about to get messy!

read the other challenge pieces here!!!!! and support them!

//

"Miss. Y/L/N, I don't think you understand the immense pressure we're under with this mission." My boss, Mr. Thompson, was staring at me from across the conference table. The room was bright. Almost too bright from the fluorescent lights beaming on us.

I looked at my hands resting on my thighs under the table before returning to his gaze. "Well, Mr. Thompson, I don’t think you understand that this goes against not only our ethical codes but my moral beliefs as well.”

Mr. Thompson spoke as he got up and came around the table, taking a seat on the glass two feet to my left. "Miss. Y/L/N, you are obligated to serve your country. However the circumstances may seem. If you do not take this mission, I will be suggesting your employment for termination."

I ran a hand down my cheek. "What –“ I ran the options through my head. Get fired or help the President’s son. Easy decision, really. “How could this even work? Does he know?"

"No, he doesn’t know. Don't worry about the details of that. We will take care of it. Nevertheless, on your part, it must seem as authentic as possible." I looked at him in disbelief.

How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve the position to role play as the President’s slutty son’s romantic interest? I let out a heavy sigh before nodding at Mr. Thompson. He let a small smile break through his tough demeanor.

“Very well, we’ve set up for you two to ‘meet’ tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson got up to open the door at the end of the room. “Oh,” he paused turning to look at me one last time, “And don’t worry, if anything goes off course, you’ll be wearing an earpiece and a mic. So we’ll know and figure it out as we go along. Remember Y/N. We’re all in this together.”

But were we?

//

I sat in position, waiting for the signal. I was outside a quaint coffee shop where my target was currently buying a coffee.

As I got my cue from the team, I got up and started walking in the direction of the van that was watching our every move. The door to the coffee shop flew open and I felt a heavy weight rush into me "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there," came rushing out of the stranger’s mouth. I looked down at the spilled coffee on the ground between us.

"No, no. It's okay, I should have been paying more attention." I said, letting an embarrassed blush creep onto my cheeks. Why did he have to actually run into me?

"Can I buy you another coffee?” He offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"No, I insist. Really." He said, reopening the door to the café.

"Okay," I hesitated. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Harry. What do you like to drink?”

I heard Thompson in my ear immediately, "Vanilla soy latte,” he basically shouted.

"Vanilla soy latte, please" I offered a smile to the barista, hiding my wince. “A grande.”

"You're joking." Harry smiled down at me. He was taller than I expected. Standing about 6”1.  His curls cut into the frame of his sunglasses. Cute. I thought to myself.

"Why?" I asked, letting a giggle escape my lips.

"That's what I drink" He chuckled. Okay. I see what you’re doing, Thompson.

We smiled at each other and finished ordering. The drinks were up almost instantly. We sat at a table I chose outside. Purposely, so the team could continue watching.

"So, tell me about yourself," He started, taking a sip of his latte.

"I-" I paused briefly, waiting for instruction from Thompson.

"You work as the marketing director for Accent" Accent is a huge professional services firm. There’s no way I’m getting away with this.

"I work as a marketing director.” I took a breath, “For Accent."

"That's cool, I have some friends who work over there." Is he onto me? "Do you know Rich?”

"Rich Charleston. Operations Manager. 5"5. Auburn hair. Brown eyes.” Thompson barked in my ear.

"Oh yeah. The operations manager? He's not that tall. Auburn hair?" I questioned, a coy smile playing at my lips.

"Yeah! That's him! Funny, I've been to a few work parties with them. I've never seen you around." He looked at his coffee and came back to me. I felt my cheeks tinge pink yet again. No way I’m making it through this.

"Y/N, you're doing great. Just go with it. You started at Accent three months ago. They haven't had a company party in five months.” Thompson stated. It’s weird. Almost as if playing detective. Wait. I am a detective. A very…high end detective.

"Oh, yeah. I only started a few months ago, so that would make sense." I giggled, taking a sip of my latte.

Harry’s phone started ringing in his pocket. He slipped it out to check the notification. "Shit, sorry. I actually have to get going. I'm late for a meeting. Could I get your number?" He asked, handing over his phone.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I took his phone where the ‘add new contact’ was already on his screen. I entered my information and handed it back. "Great, I'll see you around then."

"Gladly." He was off, hopping into the back seat of an awaiting SUV across the street. As it pulled away, I noticed it was in a no-parking zone. Of course, it would be. He's the president's son.

//

It has been three weeks since my ‘run in’ with Harry. He texted me an hour later asking if he could see me again. We had seen each other twice over the course of three weeks. Each time in a public setting to ensure the FBI could have an eye on us at all times.

We talked mostly about my work. He had finally let it slide through text that he was the President’s son. It was easy to act surprised through text. It would be harder to act as if I didn’t know my coworkers if it ever got to the point that I would be seeing him in a more intimate setting.

I was starting to realize why so many women were swooning for him. Not only was he handsome –  he was charming, sweet, and extremely articulate.

I sat in Mr. Thompson’s office discussing plans for the upcoming benefit. The benefit that Harry had yet to ask me to.

"Mr. Thompson, he has no idea this plan is underway. Like what happens if he tries to make advances on me. I did not sign up to be this boy's actual girlfriend.” I borderline complained.

"Miss. Y/L/N. This is your duty for the time being. We're trying to keep him safe and clean up his image. This is the best way we can do that.”

"Mr. Thompson, with all due respect, what if he actually starts to have feelings for me. What if he asks me to be his girlfriend? What if – "

Mr. Thompson raised a hand to interrupt me. "Miss Y/L/N, if that happens, we will handle it. Mr. Styles will never know. Now for the upcoming benefit. You will attend with Mr. Styles. As always, you will wear an earpiece. Members of the secret service will be aware of your presence. If something comes up, I will be in your ear warning you to get Mr. Styles out of there. Understood?"

"Yes sir,” I agreed, sulking into the chair. “But sir, he hasn’t even asked me.” Thompson’s hands brushed through the air - almost as to dismiss my thoughts.

“Oh, don’t worry, kid.” He snickered. “Mr. Horan, the head of his security, has intel that he will be asking you.”

//

As predicted, Harry did ask me to join him at the benefit. Giving me a two-day notice. Scratch that. Harry said he wanted me to come to a “party” and ‘wear something suited for a ball’  I recounted the statement as he was dropping me off from our brunch “date” on Thursday.

I stared at myself in the champagne-colored gown in my full-length mirror. I let out a frustrated sigh. This was so wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this to him. He’s actually really sweet. How can I untangle myself from this mess? I could commit treason, leave the country, and lay under the radar. One part of my brain told me. Or be put to death. The other part reminded me. I gave myself one last look-over and decided it was time to head to the lobby.

My roommate, Ashley, whistled at me as I walked out of my bedroom into the kitchen. “Going somewhere nice?” she asked.

“Work event,” I brushed off. I hadn’t told her anything. Specifically, because of the confidentiality behind the mission.

“With Harry Styles?” I froze in my tracks, taking a deep breath.

“How did you know that?”

“Sweetheart. You are all over the magazine covers. Do you think no one has cameras in public? I was speechless. How could I be so naïve that journalists who have such a strong eye on Harry’s personal, party lifestyle wouldn’t spot us out?

“Honey,” I heard our third roommate, Summer, call from the couch. “Did you really think you could be so slick?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ashlie chimed in.

Before I could answer, a call from Harry popped up on my phone. “I’m sorry, I have to go. He’s here.” I said turning on my heel to exit our apartment.

“Wait – “ Summer stopped me – “Can you please give us some juicy details on the man-who – I mean your new fling when you get home?”

I laughed at her response with a nod and started my trek to the lobby.

He was waiting outside the SUV, dressed in a black suit and a matching champagne tie. “Well don’t you look lovely.”

I blushed at his compliment. The security guard driving us gave me a curt nod as he opened the door for us. “Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

When I dodged his kiss, he pulled me in for a hug before gesturing for me to get in first. “Thanks.” Despite the disappointment in his eyes, Harry’s smile was beaming. He looked absolutely adora – Y/N stop. This is strictly for work.

The door shut behind us and in half a second we were whizzing down the street to the banquet hall where the Benefit was being held.

“I’m really happy you agreed to be my date tonight,” Harry commented, not breaking his gaze from the window. “You can meet my parents.”

Parents? As in, the President and first lady of the United States? My body shivered at the thought. I have been in the same room as them before, yes. But meeting them as not an employee – but their son’s date, friend or whatever you want to call it – is terrifying.

“Wow, that would be – “ I tried to find the right words – “nice.”

“Really?” His eyes wandered to mine. “Most people would about shit themselves right about now.”

Well I’m damn near close, Styles.

When we pulled up to the entrance of the venue, our driver – Niall, I learned – hopped out and got the door for us. My eyes were blinded by the flashing lights. Harry grabbed my hand and helped me onto the ground. As we made our ascent, paparazzi were flooding him with questions. “Harry, Harry! Who’s this?” “New flame of the week kid?” “I heard you were bringing Kendall Jenner” could be heard from every angle.

Harry apologized as soon as the doors shut behind us. I shook my head to let him know it was okay.

“I am way too sober for this,” Harry mentioned before we walked into the noisy room. “And it hasn’t even started.” I let out a quiet giggle as he smiled at me.

The benefit passed with ease. As Harry walked us around making small talk and thanking people for coming, Thompson was in my ear telling me who people were and how they got invited. Harry and I kept making trips back to the bar. While I nursed two glasses of wine, Harry had drank 4 rum and cokes. It was becoming clear that Harry was feeling good. Almost too good for him to continue being at this event.

As a last stop around the room, we walked towards his parents.

“Harry, my boy. Thanks for being here tonight,” President Styles pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Like I had a choice?” He rolled his eyes. President Styles gave a laugh, one Harry didn’t reciprocate.

“Who’s this?” His mother asked as her gaze moved to me. Her eyes were kind. They matched Harry’s, I noticed.

“Mom, dad.” Harry said as he wrapped an arm around my waist, “This is my date, Y/N.”

“Hi,” I offered my hand to shake, “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for having me tonight.”

“The pleasures all ours, sweetie.” His mother affirmed. I felt a smile creep onto my lips. His parents were sweet - partly informal.

As we were making our way to a table, we were stopped by a friend of Harry’s – Louis. Apparently, they had been long time friends. As they grew up, Louis had started a media company, one which Harry happily invested in to help him out.

“Harry, this your date?” He asked curiously.

“Yes, this is my future girlfriend, Y/N.” His words slurred, I felt the wind knock out of me. Girlfriend? FUTURE girlfriend?

“How about a kiss for the camera?” Louis interrupted my thoughts. “For a piece I’m working on?”

“Why not?” This boy was definitely drunk. Without having time to react, Harry grabbed my waist and quickly, yet gently, pressed his lips to mine. It lasted only about half a second and I found myself wanting more.

Harry chatted with Louis for a few more minutes before bidding goodbye and continuing our walk to a table in the back. I brought my fingers to brush against my lips, still feeling his burning into my memory.

The next hour passed quickly. Harry had downed another two drinks because “I’ve already talked to everyone I need to and now I can relax.” I could see why the media calls him a party boy. He’s 0 – 100 real quick.

Our conversation flowed easily and I found myself enjoying his presence.

“I’m having a really good time,” Harry slurred into my ear. He snuck an arm around my shoulders at some point, and I didn’t really care.

“So am I.”

“Good, I was really nervous to ask you.” His admission took me by surprise. The entire three weeks I’ve known him, he never seemed shy. He was always respectful. I’ve learned so much about the party boy that always seemed to be judged. If it were me, no one would care if I went out with my friends every weekend and brought a different guy home. But because he’s, well, Harry Styles. It matters. The presidential family is supposed to be clean, polished, not having any dirty laundry. But the media loves to air his.

I learned Harry had a – what most would call – normal upbringing. Small home in the outskirts of NYC. He went to public school up until high school, when his father had decided to run for congress and got in. His favorite color is yellow – because it’s happy. He loves music from the 70’s and 80’s because it reminds him of his childhood. He knows about his party-boy persona and absolutely loathes it – but continues to live it because it’s the only way he can let go of the stress from being the President’s son.

“Why were you nervous?”

“Well, it’s always intimidating to meet a beautiful woman who knows what she wants in life and won’t settle for less. I was especially nervous because I thought not only my reputation, but my status would scare you off.” My chest felt tight. If only he knew that everything, well half of everything, I told him were lines being fed to me from the Director of the FBI. “And I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you. I didn’t want to lie. But I felt like it would be easier for us to get to know each other before I told you.”

There’s that word. Lie. I hate that word but yet, it’s what I was doing almost every time we were together.

“I don’t want you to ever feel nervous or feel like you have something to hide from me.” I took the hand he had draped around me in my own. “I just want you to be yourself. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. I don’t care about your status or the fact that your parents are the President and First Lady. That’s not something you should feel ashamed of.”

For the first time, Harry’s smile met his eyes. He’s smiled plenty when we’re together, but this was different. He tugged me closer and placed his lips on my cheek. They burned from his touch. My body temperature must have risen 10 degrees.

Did Thompson see that? Of course, he did. Wait, where is he? My smile dropped as I looked across the room, hoping for a sign of Thompson. He hadn’t been in my ear for a while. I wonder if everything’s okay.

“Everything’s fine,” I moved my eyes around the room once more, confused. “I can see that look on your face. I know that look. You were getting worried.”

Where the heck is Thompson and how can he see my face.

“Niall is about to grab you to take you both home. So, I’m off for the night. You’re on your own kid.” I heard the familiar static as they shut my earpiece off. So, they had heard that entire conversation, wonderful.

I smiled, reaching for my ear to take the piece out, but halting my movements when I remembered Harry was still sat next to me.

“Mr. Styles, the car is here.” Niall leaned down to whisper to Harry.

“Alright, love. Off we go.” Harry let his arm fall from my shoulder. I stood to grab my clutch off the table. I paused when I noticed Harry guzzling the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “What?” he asked innocently. “I wasn’t going to just leave it there. Someone could try to sell that since my lips have touched it!” I smirked at him before linking my arm with his.

The drive home was filled with Harry trying to be touchy feely and a bit too flirtatious. Between him keeping trying to rest his hand on my knee, and the many compliments he spewed out in a drunken slur, I felt myself loosening up and enjoying his drunken, flirty presence. Niall made eye contact with me in the mirror one too many times for me to be comfortable with.

He knows.

When we pulled up to my building, I opened the door only to feel a tug on my wrist. I craned my neck to look at Harry, who didn’t let go of my arm.

“Will you kiss me?” His glazed eyes bore into mine as he leaned over to my half of the seat, “For real this time?” I contemplated for a second. Yes, I would like to kiss you again. Will I? I can’t.

I giggled at his lazy smile and glanced to the mirror at Niall who seemed to be minding his own business, “You’re drunk Harry.”

“Would you reconsider if I was sober?”

“Goodnight, Harry” I said, hopping out of the SUV.

“I’ll take that as a maybe!” He called as I shut the door.

What is this boy doing to me?

//

It’s been three days since the benefit. I hadn’t heard from Harry much, maybe a text or two over the last two days. I wish I could say I didn’t care. But I did. Yes, what I was doing was wrong. But after seeing him in a vulnerable state being drunk at the benefit, he grew on me. A lot more than I’d like to admit. Even though I hadn’t heard from him, I still had the inside scoop from Thompson. Apparently, Mr. Horan was keeping a tight leash on him. No parties or clubs recently.

One thing that should’ve been noticed a lot sooner on my part was that every time I was with Harry or Harry was out, he had Niall maybe 5 feet away. So why the hell would they need me?

Oh right – clean up the image.

“Y/N!” Ashlie screamed from the kitchen. I came to a screeching halt in front of her at the counter. “Have you seen these?” I furrowed my brows as she angled her laptop screen towards me. Right on the landing page of the most popular magazine’s website was Harry’s picture. Stumbling out of a club with none-other than Kendall Jenner, hand in hand.

My brows furrowed even closer when I grabbed the laptop from the counter. I quietly walked to the couch and sat down. ‘Eligible bachelor, Harry Styles couldn’t seem to get enough of the model as they were seen being cozy all night at popular night club, Avalon Nightclub downtown Washington, D.C.’

Would this jeopardize my mission? How would Thompson handle this? What now? Was he really done with me just like that?

With too many thoughts to process, I sat the computer next to me and stared at the blank TV. The weight of the couch shifted next to me. Ashlie slid her arms around my torso and rested her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She was trying to be empathetic; I know. But I also didn’t want her pity.

“It’s okay,” I tilted my head to rest on top of hers. “Who needs him anyways?”

Wait, I do.

//

I stared out the window behind Mr. Thompson. He tapped his fingers in pattern on his desk, other hand resting on his cheek.

“Miss. Y/L/N.” He started, stopping his fingers from tapping. I flicked my eyes to his. “I knew this would be hard, having the type of personality he does. He doesn’t – doesn’t have a long attention span when it comes to women.”

I looked back to the window, admiring the cars streaming by on the 695. I already knew that. We all knew it. You thought one of your agents could change him? People don’t change because you want them to. They change because they want to.

When I didn’t offer a response, Thompson continued. “Did something happen after the benefit? After we unplugged you?”

I thought back to that night. Our drive home was filled mainly with his giggles and slurred pick-up lines.

“I don’t think – “ I didn’t kiss him. He wanted to kiss me, and I didn’t. “He wanted to kiss me, Mr. Thompson.”

“You didn’t kiss him, right?”

“Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “No, I mean – yes, I didn’t kiss him.” I clarified. I wanted to though.

“Miss. Y/L/N, we’ve brought in Mr. Horan. Head of his security. ”Thompson waved to Mr. Horan through the window. The screech from the chair next to me as it slid across the tile floor. My eyes flashed to the man next to me. Niall. Now it makes sense.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall cleared his throat, “Nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Mr. Horan.”

“As you know, Mr. Horan here is the head of Mr. Styles’ security and  has been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of President Styles’ term. He’s here to shed some insight and help us through this obstacle. He knows Harry the best, so we will have his assistance for matters like this.” Mr. Thompson gestured to Niall to start speaking about what he knows.

“Yeah, so” Niall shifted in his seat and crossed his ankle at the knee. “Harry’s a bit frustrated. He feels like, I don’t know. That you – “ I caught his eyes drift to mine – “aren’t ‘interested’ in him anymore”

I scoffed at the remark, earning a glare from Mr. Thompson. “Miss. Y/L/N, a problem?”

“Sorry it’s just – “ I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, resting my palms on my thighs – “He feels like I’m not interested? When three days after the benefit he’s out gallivanting around D.C? That’s ridiculous.”

“See,” Niall turned towards me, “That’s just it. That’s how Harry copes. He doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms. He thinks the best way to get around his issues is to drink them away. It’s why he drank so much at the benefit. It’s why he drinks so much in general.”

It explains a lot. He had told me that he’s been under stress, and I can only imagine how much stress he feels from having to live up to a perfect image that he can’t attain with his reputation.

“So, what do I do?”

“I’ve tried to knock some sense into him. I may protect Harry for a living, but he is my friend, and I care about him and his feelings.”

//

The Saturday sun was warm on my skin. I stared at the clouds in the sky, listened to the kids playing about 50 feet away, and the ducks in the pond. I should be at the gym, I reminded myself. Or at least running.

It’d been a week since I last saw Harry, part of me missed him. Thompson said he was going to work with Niall and how to get the boy back on track. Why me out of all people? There were so many young women in the FBI at this point, so why me? ‘Because we see the most potential in you. Half these women won’t make it another 6 months.’ Thompson’s voice rang in my ears from our conversation yesterday afternoon.

The bright darkness dimmed behind my eyelids. I opened one to see a figure standing above me. I jolted out of my comfort.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I said sitting up and criss crossing my legs.

“Uh – “ raising a hand to the back of their neck – “Can we talk?”

“Yeah Summer, what’s up?” She sat opposite of me in the grass and looked around the park.

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Her eyes never settled on mine. She’s being cautious.

“Yeah, great day to be outside.” I looked over to the swimming ducks, still quacking at each other.

What I would give to be a duck right now. Not having any worries about whether or not my job was still intact. If my friends hated me for lying to them. If the boy I liked was done with me before even having a chance to know me, and really me.

“So,” Summer started after a few minutes of silence. I looked at her expectantly. “Someone dropped by today to see you.” My heart jumped; my palms started to sweat. Was Harry at my apartment?

“Harry?”

“Uh – “ she faltered – “No, Louis?” I scrunched my brows, confused. I wracked my brain trying to figure out who Louis was. “He said he’s a friend. You apparently met him at the Benefit? I told him you were out and didn’t know when you’d be back. He said to call him and left his number.” I looked at my crossed ankles. Oh, Louis. Wait, Louis took that picture of me and Harry. What does he want? “Do you know him?”

I looked back at Summer. “Yeah, he’s… he’s one of Harry’s friends.”

“You should probably call him, he looked in a rush.” I lifted my head in a nod, letting my eyes fall to the grass between us. A comfortable silence took over. “Y/N, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about whatever happened between you and… him. But I’m here for you if you do.”

“I know that, Summer. Thank you.”

//

I took a few steps into my room and tossed my purse onto my bed. I decided I should give Louis a call to see what’s going on.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Louis. It’s Y/N. I heard you stopped by today.”

“Oh!” He sounds surprised. His tone quickly hushed. “Y/N, thanks for calling. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I sat in my desk chair with one leg tucked under me. “What’s going on?”

“Can you meet me?” There was a long pause.

“Wh – “

“In an hour, at the park by the white house.” Before I could respond, I heard the click of him hanging up.

What?

//

I didn’t take much time to get ready to meet Louis. I threw a gray zip up sweatshirt over my tank top and slipped on my flare jeans with converse and was on my way. Louis texted me to say he wanted to ask me a few questions about the benefit – for a promotion he was working on for his company.

The sun had set on my way over, the purple, black sky taking over the D.C air. I glanced at the sky as I stood by the lamp post in the park. The stars look beautiful tonight. My eyes kept traveling around the park. Something I was trained to do. Have your eyes everywhere at all times.

I heard him before I saw him. The heavy footsteps, deep breathing. He sounds troubled. I whipped my head in the opposite direction.

“Y/N?” He asked, pulling the hood off his head. I could only nod. “What are you doing here?”

“I – “ I was off the script. No earpiece with Thompson telling me what to do, who to be, anything. “Just out for a stroll.” Harry stared at me as if he wasn’t really seeing me. He shook his head, his long locks falling in front of his face. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the pieces that had fallen from his face.

“By… the white house?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I love this park. Very peaceful with some great views.” I concluded. Louis sent me here, he knows what he’s doing. He and Harry are longtime friends. They must’ve talked.

“Right…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around.

“I wanted to talk.” “We should talk.” We spoke at the same time. Our eyes locked before breaking into giggles and looking at our feet.

“You go ahead,” Harry encouraged.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

“I –“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “How drunk was I that night?”

I blinked harshly, not expecting him to ask that. “What?”

“I don’t remember much after slamming my drink right before we left and…”  He took a step away from me. “I was a little embarrassed and I wasn’t sure if I said or did anything wrong and… I thought if I held off for a bit then it wouldn’t be a big deal…”

“So why still didn’t you call?” Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You didn’t get my voicemail?” He quirked his head.

“What voicemail?”

“Y/N, I called you like three times.”

“What?” Then it hit me. Thompson. Thompson tapped my phone when starting the mission to have all the details. But why?

“I just kinda thought you were done with us and I had done something after the benefit.”

“Harry, I had no idea. Honest… Is that why you went out with Kendall?”

He laughed at my question. “I haven’t gone out with Kendall. I haven’t seen her in months. Those pictures are from like… November.” I was bewildered.

I composed myself before speaking, “I’m sorry to have assumed the worst…”

“It’s okay,” he stepped closer. “Can I come to your place?”

“Right now?”

He glanced at his feet and back to me, “Yeah.” He murmured. Only meaning to be heard between us two.

“Are you okay?” I tucked some stray hair behind my ear, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right.

“I just – I just don’t want to go back yet. I had to sneak out and I just need some time away.” Running one hand through his hair, he grabbed my hand with the other.

“Okay.”

The ride to my apartment was quiet. Harry didn’t say much about what was going on within the White House walls, although I’m sure I would find out come Monday, if not sooner. I was trying to read his moving eyes, but there wasn’t much to tell. His eyes told a completely different story than his lips.

His lips spoke of stress and hardship. His eyes shine like the moon over a Georgia river in the dead of night.

When I finally parked my car in the lot, Harry slid out of my car with grace, taking my hand as each of us rounded the back of my car.

“This is it,” I sighed when opening the door to my apartment.

“Wow,” He looked from the kitchen to the living room before turning to face me, “Cute.”

“Oh my gosh,” I whipped my head to see Ashlie coming into the entrance in a towel from the hallway – clearly not expecting company.

“Uh – Hi.” Harry awkwardly waved.

“Hi, wow. Wasn’t expecting you.” She gave a small smile and gestured to her attire.

“It’s not a problem. Nice to meet you,” Harry extended his hand for her, which she gladly took,  “I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’m Ashlie.” Ashlie let out a flirty giggle. You know, the kind you hear at a bar when a girl is trying too hard to let a man know his jokes are ‘funny’.

“We’ll uh – be in my room.” I remarked, breaking up the awkwardness I could feel radiating through the room.

Harry trailed behind me, telling me he thought Ashlie seemed nice.

“How many roommates do you have?” He questioned, taking a seat on the foot of my bed.

“Two. My other roommate, Summer, is probably at her boyfriend’s.” I hung my hoodie over the back of my desk chair and took a seat on it backwards so I could face him. Harry nodded his head before letting his body fall back onto my bed. “So, what’s going on? At home?”

“It’s nothing,” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“It’s obviously something if you’re sneaking out and wandering parks at night without guards. How’d you even get away with that anyways?”

“The White House has many escape routes that can’t be seen by the control room. I’ve found them all.” He stated, putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting.” The silence that filled the room was deafening. “Harry,” I paused waiting for him to look at me. His eyes gradually found mine. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of my family and the security telling me my behavior is ‘unacceptable’ because I’m the President’s son. I can’t go out with my friends. I can’t be seen with girls who are friends. I can’t have a drink in a bar.” He stood from my bed and started pacing around my room like his life depended on it. “When I’m in the White House, all I have is people barking orders in my ear, telling me what I can and can’t do. What I can and can’t wear. Who I can and can’t see? So, I guess,” Harry brought his hands to his head and started pulling his hair at the roots, “When I do get to go out with friends, I get carried away. Unfortunately, every time.”

I didn’t know what to say. What I want to say? I can relate. What can I say? Nothing.

When he moved to sit back on my bed, I joined him. He brought his chest between his knees and bowed his head, taking the stance of looking like he was about to vomit. I rested my hand on his back and tried my best to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, still looking for the right words. “Harry, I’m sorry. I had no idea that was something you had to deal with.”

“I know, because I don’t share that part of my life. Not with anyone. The only one who really knows is Niall. But that’s only because he’s with me when I’m out and that’s when it all comes out.” He lifted his head and turned to look at me. “He’s the only person I really trust. He’s my best friend and I trust him with my life. I know it’s his job to be there. But, he’s the only one I really have.”

“That’s not true. You have loads of friends. I’ve seen them in the pictures with you.”

“No, those people – while they’re nice to hang out with – they only care about my status. They care about Harry Styles, President’s son. Not Harry.”

“I – I don’t know what to say.” And I truly didn’t. Here he is, spilling his heart to me again, and I can’t even reciprocate without blowing my cover.

“You don’t have to say anything. I thought Niall was the only person that actually cared about me. As in Harry, the person. And then I met you.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry sat up and turned his body towards mine, grabbing both my hands in his.

“Y/N, I know you would never do anything to hurt me. You care about me. You ask me about me, not what my family is doing, or what bills are going through congress. Or even try to advance your career through me.”

My mouth got dry, but I felt like I was drowning. How can he not see through this act? When will I give it up? When will Thompson have it cut? His eyes bore into mine.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“I – I like you too Harry.” I have to tell him; I have to tell him the girl he thinks he knows is not who she says she is. I have to tell him; this was all part of my job. But this isn’t. It’s not your job to be here with him right now.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” The proposition tore me from my thoughts. I got up and headed for the door, gesturing for him to follow me down the hall.

I plopped on the couch flipping the TV on. Harry sat next to me and flung his arm to the back of the couch behind me.

“Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?” He looked over to me, nodding excitedly.

We flipped through Netflix for 10 minutes before finally deciding on 27 Dresses. The movie was the only thing that could be heard in the living room. At whatever point, Harry let his arm fall onto my shoulders and pulled me into him. I let my head rest on his shoulder as we continued watching.

“Hey Y/N?” I looked up at him, humming in response. “I’m sober now.” I scrunched my eyebrows and opened my mouth to speak, “Can I kiss you now?” My heart sped up, and my cheeks warmed with the blood rushing to them.

“I - I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I let my head dip so I wasn’t looking at him.

“Why’s that?” He asked, confusion taking over his tone. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but... I would really like to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. It’s just  - “ I thought of all the things that could possibly go wrong - the FBI busting into my apartment to have me arrested, me starting what feels like a real relationship based on lies, breaking his heart after he let me in.

“Then let me,” Harry cupped my cheek and brought our gazes together. I stared at him for a moment before lightly nodding.

His lips ghosted over mine before gently pressing together. I swear I could hear his heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine. I rested my hand on his cheek and his hand moved to my waist, pulling me as close as possible. It wasn’t heavy, and it wasn’t quick. It was soft and sweet, like him.

He pulled away and leaned back into the couch. A smile graced his face. I nuzzled back into him and pulled my feet up on the couch.

I woke up to the room completely dark, the only light coming from the dim light above the oven. I was still laying on Harry. I sat up, removing his arms from my waist. I grabbed my phone from the table to check the time. 2:36am. Oh shit, I turned back to wake Harry.

“Harry, Harry wake up. You have to go.” I shook him out of his sleep.

“What why?” He stirred, rubbing his eyes, barely coming out of his sleep.

“It’s 2:36AM.”

“Mmmmm comfy.” He closed his eyes again and rested further into the couch.

“Harry, no. You’re gonna get into trouble.” I stood up and grabbed his hands trying to pull him off the couch.

“No, I won’t”

“Harry,” I insisted. When he wouldn’t budge, I gave up. Flopping back into the couch.

“Can I just stay – you won’t even know I was here.”

//

I woke up in my bed. I looked at my clock next to me. 9:22am. Was it a dream? I sat up, same tank top. Same jeans. I searched for my phone to find it under my pillow with a sticky note.

Left around 5. Carried you to bed and didn’t want to wake you. Call me. – Harry

Sticking my phone in my back pocket, I pulled myself out of bed and let my feet guide me to the bathroom. What did I do? Why did I have to do that?

After staring at myself for almost two minutes, I decided to call Harry.

“Hello?” his voice was chipper.

“How’d you get home?” I asked, putting the call on speaker so I could wash my face.

“I took an Uber. I woke up to one missed call and one text from Niall asking if I was in my room from around 2. I figured it’d be best if I was back in the house before sunrise and not let anyone get suspicious.” At least he was thoughtful of other peoples’ sleep schedules.

“Ah, alright.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you wanted me to call you?” I stated, remembering his note.

“Oh, yeah! I’m picking you up for breakfast.” He said, I could feel his smile through the phone. Man does this boy get right back on the love train; I swear.

“You? Or Niall?” I teased, breaking into a smile. I grabbed my washcloth and wet it to begin washing my face.

“Ha ha. Funny. No, me. Just you, me, and some delicious breakfast.” He clarified. Should I tell Thompson? Probably.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.” We said goodbye and felt my heart beating faster. I quickly texted Thompson to let him know what was happening. I started the shower and dropped my clothes. Washing everything quickly, I felt my nerves beginning to settle in. Should I even have said yes? What if Thompson doesn’t want me to? Too late.

When I got out, I checked my phone for a response.

Thompson – 9:37am: Earpiece.

He really was a man of few words. Powerful words, but few. I quickly blew dry my hair and changed into some leggings and a ¾ sleeve blouse. Finishing putting on some light makeup, I heard a knock on the front door.

“Harry!” Ashlie exclaimed, “Good to see you again.”

I walked out to see Harry looking awkwardly at her. She was asking how everything was going for him, to which he politely smiled and said “Fine, Thanks.” His eyes lit up when they connected with mine.

“Hey, you.” He smiled, pulling me in for a hug

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile and accepting his arms around me.

“Ready?”

‘Let me just grab my purse,” I said, backing away down the hallway towards my room. I quickly grabbed the earpiece from my drawer and inserted it into my ear. I grabbed my purse from my desk and started heading back to our entryway. I paused in the doorway, glancing at my open drawer with my pistol sticking out. I slipped it into my purse before returning to Harry.  “Okay, let’s go.”

Ashlie moved to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast, taking peeks over her shoulder at Harry. She shot me a wink as Harry opened the front door to lead us out.

When we were settled in the car, Harry turned to me. “First things first, I wanted to say thank you to you. For last night. And I’m sorry if I was intruding.”

“You weren’t,” I reassured him, “You never are.” As I finished my sentence, I heard the static in my earpiece. Thompson’s on.

“Morning superstar. I don’t know what happened last night, but good job getting him back.” If only he knew.

Harry turned on the radio for our drive. As we drove further out of the city, he told me how he loved some of the neighborhoods we were driving by. Mostly because he had friends living there that he made when we were in high school because Mr. Styles would often bring him to D.C., and he would meet other congressmen’s children.

I laughed at his jokes, and when he sang. Frankly, he can’t sing. But he does a very nice job trying.

When we pulled up to the café, I noticed it was quite small. Niall hadn’t brought us here on our previous brunch meetings.

“Where are we?” I questioned.

“Oh, my dad used to take me here in high school. I don’t get to come too often anymore. Ya know, security and everything.”

Right.

Breakfast went exactly how I thought it would. Harry talked about his life, asked me about mine, and Thompson fed me lines that apparently “Niall had done ‘research’, and this is what Harry wants to hear.”

But this time, when I laughed with Harry, I felt more genuine. My feelings were too. I really liked him. He was kind, generous, thoughtful. Everything a good man acted like.

When he dropped me off, Harry walked me to my door. I didn’t hesitate to kiss his cheek. Harry grabbed my hands and squeezed them.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” He glanced at his feet, letting a grin bless his features with his dimples showing perfectly. I nodded, squeezing his hands back. He pulled me into him for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, not wanting to let go.

“Bye, Harry.” I opened the door when he let go of me.

“Bye, Y/N.”

The next week felt like it flew by. I would see Harry after work, either for dinner, a drink, a movie, a walk, really anything he could think of to see me.

Thompson would be in my ear, encouraging me. Sometimes he wasn’t, those were my favorite nights with Harry. I could be myself without having to worry about if Thompson thought ‘Well that wasn’t the right thing to say.”

//

My phone ringing brought me out of my sleep. I looked at the caller ID and immediately answered.

“Hello?” I greeted, rubbing the sleep from my left eye.

“Can you come over?” Harry asked, his voice cracking near the end. I pulled the phone away from my ear. 1:11am. After a pause he added, “Please?” The desperation in his voice was almost tangible. A shiver ran down my spine just hearing his broken voice.

“Yeah, of course.” I threw my covers off of me and grabbed my nearest pair of jeans. I pulled  them on and picked up one of Harry’s long sleeve t-shirts and ripped it over my head. “I’ll be there in 15.”

“Thank you,” he sobbed. “I can let you in by the east garden.” I hung up my phone and hesitated to grab my keys. I should take an Uber. Guards would see my car parked near the White House. I opened the Uber app and ordered a car.

“Morning ma’am.” Said Andrew, the driver.

“Morning,” I grumbled, climbing in the backseat.

“How was your night?” he asked, smiling at me through the rearview mirror.

“Could be better,” I sighed, rubbing my fingers into my temples.

“Oh, I totally get it,” he started. Andrew talked almost the entire way about his night. When he dropped me on the corner a block away from the White House, he concluded his rant with “And that’s when I kicked him out. Well, I hope your night gets better! Life’s too short to have bad sex.” I gave him the best smile I could muster and got out of his car.

I walked up the street and crossed through an alley to get to the East garden. I saw a sliver of light coming from a shrub. The sliver of light grew bigger, giving away that it was actually a door. A disheveled Harry appeared in the light. As I got closer, I noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He’s been crying. When I was close enough, he instantly crashed his body into mine, holding me so tight I might combust.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” I asked, cuddling him closer. He let out a choked weep. “Come on, let’s go.” I said, pulling away. He grabbed my hand and led us through the tunnels.

When we got to the halls, Harry looked around every corner, checking for guards before sneaking us to his room. The door clicked shut and the only thing I could hear were his soft sniffles. I took in the room before me. It was large and decorated for a king. There were items scattered, a chair tipped over, and a lamp lay broken on the floor next to his bed.

He took a seat on the edge of his bed, lowering his head with his hands covering his face. I walked over and took a seat next to him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and took another look around.

“Harry,” I whispered. “What happened?”

“He’s so disappointed in me.” He mumbled, barely audible. His body shook with sobs, soft enough to go unnoticed by anyone passing by.

“Who? Your dad?”

“He said his approval rate has barely gone up, and when he asked the cabinet about it, they – they told him it was my fault.” My heart broke at his words.

“Harry, I’m so – “

“He doesn’t get it. No one does,” he ripped himself from my grasp and stood in front of me, facing the door. “I have him, his cabinet, members of the staff, media, friends, everyone constantly yelling at me. Just because I want to go out and be normal. Live a normal life.” He was facing me now, arms flailing around to get his point across. “And as soon as I get something right, it’s not good enough!”

“What do you mean?” I inquired. I stood up and placed my hands on his shoulders, leading him back to sit down. “Talk to me.”

“You,” he stated as if it was obvious. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to better myself. Not go out as much, get away from the crowd that only talked to me because they want something. I haven’t had any interest in doing that because – well. I want to be the best man I can. For you.”

I stood straight at his confession. I was left speechless. I took a deep breath before kneeling on the ground in front of him. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say.

“Harry, I – I’m proud of you for doing all of that.”

“Well I’m glad someone is,” he exclaimed. He threw himself back onto his bed and covered his face with his hands.

I got up and sat next to him, criss crossing my legs. I grabbed his hands from his face and held them.

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you too. He just doesn’t know how to say it.” I tried to assure him.

“Yeah because ‘if you would’ve kept the clean image like I told you to’ screams ‘I’m proud of you.” He groaned. He grasped my hands and brought them to his chest.

“Well, let’s think about this. Your dad is the President. He has a lot of people to answer to, and I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress.” I explained to him, rubbing circles on the backs of his hands

“I know, I know. But like, there’s a way to talk to your kids.”

“Yeah, and I’m not saying how he handled it was correct. I’m just saying, from his perspective, he’s probably not mad. Just frustrated. And I’m sure he’s proud of you for trying to better yourself.” I paused, glancing at the door. “Maybe you should just talk to him about how this experience has been for you. I know you haven’t and that might help him to better understand where you’re coming from.” I concluded.

“You’re right. I should probably try to talk to him in private.”

“Wanna hear a joke?” He nodded, cracking a small smile. “What did the drummer name his daughters? Anna one, anna two!” His giggle filled the quiet room, a chuckle left my own lips. He pulled me down, so my head was resting on his chest.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He tucked my hair behind my ear and caressed his hand down my cheek.

“I’ve been told,” I joked, returning the smile he gave me.

“No, I’m serious,” He looked at the ceiling before continuing, “You give really good advice that makes me think from another perspective, and you can make me laugh even when it feels like my world is crashing - not even two minutes ago.” He glanced back down at me. My eyes never leaving his face.

We stayed like this for a while. Talking about life, things we believed in, conspiracy theories, the best type of pasta (Tortellini was unanimously voted), everything.

Harry walked me back to the East Garden entrance around 3:00am.

“Are you sure you can’t stay the night? Niall can just drop you off in the morning.” He tried one last time.

“I’m sure, Harry.” I let out a quiet laugh. “But hey – maybe we should just keep this between us two? I don’t want to get any weird looks from m –“ I stopped myself before the words ‘my coworkers’ escaped my lips, “your guards.”

“Of course, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead and watched as I waited for my Uber. Occasionally throwing out pick-up lines. My favorite being ‘Are you a time traveler? Because I can see you in my future’ I casually waved as the Uber pulled up.

“Y/N?” She asked. I nodded and opened the door. I took one last look towards the entrance, seeing just the crack of light, knowing Harry was watching through it.

//

The next few weeks continued like this. Harry sneaking out to my house, and me to his. Each time learning new secret passages that brings me to his wing, or his room. It got to be exciting, really. Seeing Harry without Thompson in my ear. I had somehow convinced him to keep Niall out of the loop of our late-night meetings. But, of course, going on public outings was a different story. Niall would be waiting in a blacked-out SUV, I had my earpiece in, and I had to give Harry lines fed from Thompson every other sentence.

Sitting in Thompson’s office was something I should be used to by now. However, ever since Harry and I began having our midnight rendezvous, I had been anxious every time Thompson was even so much as in the same building. Although Harry and I haven’t so much as kissed since that night in my apartment, every time I saw him, I could feel the sexual tension radiating off him like I was standing next to a bonfire. He was waiting for me to make the first move, which I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. It would put so much more confusion into this already sticky situation.

Harry has grown into my friend. Of course, there was romantic interest. But I couldn’t jeopardize my cover. To him, I was Y/N Y/L/N. Marketing director for Accent. Small town girl from Carolina. I went to college for Business. I have my mom and two younger brothers back home who encouraged me to follow my dreams and move to D.C. If he knew who I really was. We could never have a relationship. If he knew I was being paid to play his romantic interest, things would never be real for us.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Thompson’s serious tone tore me from my thoughts, “We’re aware that things have gone swimmingly since Mr. Styles had picked you up for breakfast a couple weeks ago. But how are you?”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m well. He seems to be just fine. Hasn’t been as much in the spotlight. And the press - ”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” His tone lightened a bit. Thompson clasped his hands on his desk and softened his eyes toward me. I locked eyes with him as he continued. “Y/N, how are you doing?” His question took me by surprise. Thompson is always business. Hard-core authoritarian and never cares about sick days, let alone mental health days. He didn’t care if you were vomiting on the curb, you better show up for duty.

“I – What?” I asked, bewildered. My jaw fell slack, and I prayed he couldn’t hear my thoughts.

“Y/N, I know this must be extremely hard on you. I know I asked a lot of you when I assigned you to this. I want to be sure you’re doing okay. You two spend a lot of time together and I know how charming he is. I’ve met him on several occasions.” He chuckled, pushing his chair back and coming to sit next to me.

I turned toward him and put on a poker face. “Mr. Thompson, I know the longevity of this mission, and I know what a great deal of stress this is putting on everyone involved as well.” I couldn’t help it, I let my face fall into one of agitation. “But when I’m with him, I can’t help but think of how real it is for him. How would he feel if he knew that my interest is just a hoax? That it’s part of my job description to play this part?”

Thompson moved out of his chair and moved to the windows that looked out into the office. He took his time shutting the blinds before he came to sit in front of me on his desk.

“Y/N,” He started, the unease in his voice was something new. “I know your concern for his emotions is genuine. It’s part of why I hired you. You fully invest in what you’re doing. And that’s a trait that’s hard to come by nowadays. But I also hired you because I know how tough you are. You don’t let people push you around. You’ve truly shown your character with this.”

He took a long glance out the window at the cars driving down the 695. Did he have children? I never asked. We weren’t supposed to ask our superiors about their personal lives. The office and field were strictly professional.

“The unfortunate part of our jobs, is the mere fact that everyone we interact with, is part of our job. Whether it’s a civilian on the street, or the Queen of England. We’re on guard the whole time. Take Niall for instance.” He finally brought his gaze back to mine. “Niall is the closest we have to getting inside Mr. Styles head. To understand his motives and how he may be putting a risk to himself. That’s where we come in.”

“I don’t under – “

“Like Niall, we have Joe. Joe is the head of security for President Styles. President Styles may not understand what we’re doing at the time. But always comes to thank us later.”

“Mr. Thompson,” I let the confusion slide onto my face. “With all due respect, I don’t understand how this relates.”

“What I’m saying Y/N, is that, even though it may not seem like it, we do have Mr. Styles’ best interest at heart. But to do that, we need to be on the inside as well.”

I left Thompson’s office feeling even more anxious than before I entered. The phone ringing in my pocket halted my movements. Harry was trying to FaceTime me. I took a sharp right and entered the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me.

“Hey,” I greeted him through the screen. He was in a car, driving. His sunglasses were pulled onto his head, pushing his chocolate locks out of his face.

“Hi! Oh – I’m sorry. You’re at work, aren’t you?” He apologized.

“Oh – yeah,” I fibbed. I hated this. I wanted to scream how I didn’t work at Accent and haven’t the slightest clue what marketing strategies were. You’re in too deep at this point, slick.

“How about I come pick you up for lunch? I can say hi to Rich.” He excitedly proposed.

“I can’t today, I’m sorry. I – uh” Think Y/N, think. “I’m actually in a business meeting with a prospect. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. What’re you doing tonight?”  He didn’t even seem fazed. He had grown used to my typical 9-5 day. That was actually midnight to midnight and being on call over the weekends. I, technically, was always working.

“I think Ashlie was cooking some homemade eggplant Parmesan. What’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight. Maybe watch a movie with some popcorn?” He gave a light smirk, before turning it into a full grin.

“I could be up for that. After dinner?”

“Do you want me to send a car to get you? Or would you like to sneak in as usual?” There was a hint of  annoyance laced in his voice. He seemed to be getting tired of sneaking around.

“I can get myself there,” I stifled a laugh, trying to lighten his mood. “East Garden?”

“Yeah, okay.” I felt bad, that I couldn’t just stroll up to the main doors of the white house. But what security didn’t know didn’t hurt us. Well, me.

I arrived at the East Garden at 8:58, Harry was waiting with the door slightly cracked, as he had continuously done throughout our little meetings.

“Hey, ninja,” He smirked.

“Ninja?” I giggled as he pulled me into a hug. He rested his head atop mine, arms around my waist.

“Yeah, I think it suits you.” He snickered.

“If only you knew,” I whispered. I pulled away, “Shall we?” He reached for my hand, interlocking our fingers. Something I had grown accustomed to.

We settled in his room, laying back on the pillows. He pulled me into his chest as The Notebook started.

“Hey Y/N?” He gingerly murmured into my hair. Feeling the day weigh on my eyelids, I offered a hum in response. “How much do you. Ya know, like me?”

My eyes flew open at the question. My heart shook my toes with how hard it was beating. “What do you mean?” Trying to keep my voice even, I tilted my head to look up at him.

“Like, we’ve been seeing each other for a bit now, so I was just wondering like.” He grabbed my left hand and gave it a squeeze, “What are we doing?”

“Harry I – “ I took a deep breath. You knew it was coming. Play stupid. “I don’t follow.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I sat up and turned to him, criss crossing my legs. “Harry, as much as I care about you,” The words were harder to get out than anticipated. “I really enjoy what we have going on. And, I mean, with your status. I’m nervous about it … blowing up. Does that make sense?” I shook my head at his disapproving eyes. My voice started to waver as I continued, “I’m sorry, I just. I know how nasty the media can be and…”

Harry bolted up, grabbing my face ready to wipe any tears that could fall. “Hey, I don’t want you to apologize. I just, I don’t know. I feel like you don’t want to be seen with me or something. Even around my own house…” his voice trailed as he looked down at his own legs.

I took the opportunity to grab his hands, rubbing circles into their backs. “Harry, I promise that I really care about you. I just, I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Okay, I understand.” His gaze peered back up to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you. I would just really love to show off the woman that has stolen my heart.” I stole his heart and felt mine drop. “Will you let me know when you are?” I could only nod. “Come on, let’s lay back down. I love this movie.”

I don’t know when Harry fell asleep. His soft snores filled the room long before the movie ended. I couldn’t move, but I had to get out of here. I had to tell Thompson I couldn’t do it anymore. I checked my phone for the time. 4:27. I have to go home. I carefully unhooked Harry’s hand from mine. I gathered my things from his desk before spotting a notepad. I glanced over at the sleeping boy. You at least owe him the courtesy to write him a note that you were leaving. He’s done the same before.

I scribbled a simple “Couldn’t sleep, call me tomorrow. - Y/N” On the paper before putting it next to him on the bed.

I cracked the door open as quietly as possible and stuck my head through the crack, looking for any potential sign of life. I slid my body through the door and shut it as lightly as possible. I ran my hands down my face and started down the hall.

“Y/N?” I froze as I was about to round the corner. I slowly turned around to find a confused Niall standing at the other end of the hall. He took several glances between me and Harry’s door. “What are you doing here?” His tone was cold.

“Niall, I – I didn’t think you’d be roaming the halls this early in the morning.” I tried to laugh it off while taking several strides towards him.

He stared at me dumbfounded. “Does Thompson know you’re here?” He took my blank expression as an answer. “So how long has this been going on?”

“Niall, it’s not what it seems.” I defended.

“No, you’re just sneaking over to the WHITE HOUSE in the middle of the night for no reason. Not to hook up with Harry?”

“Niall, it’s really not like that!” I raised my voice slightly.

“Then tell me what it’s like Y/N. You know this could jeopardize the mission!” Niall raised his voice higher than mine. Not seeming to care if other guards heard him.

“I’m being his friend, Niall!” I cried. ‘That’s all.”

“Being his friend?” He asked bemused. “I don’t think FRIENDS do what you’re doing, Y/N.” His voice lower this time.

“Niall, I’m just trying to do the best I can! There’s no precedent for stuff like this! He calls, I answer. If he asks me to be there for him, I am. Like three weeks ago when he had an all-out meltdown!” My hands swung from my sides, to cover my face.

“That’s my job Y/N, not yours. I’m the one he calls to handle situations like that.” He stated the obvious, raising his eyebrows. He spoke almost as if he was telling a three-year-old that they couldn’t jump off the monkey bars because they could get hurt.

“Yeah, Niall. I know it’s your job. But have you been doing it? Are you really his friend and have you been handling it?” I countered his argument. If Niall was the one to handle situations like that, then why did Harry call me instead?

“Y/N, I leave him alone when he gets like that. When he’s ready to talk, he does. I think I know him a little better than you.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, and his voice was ear-piercingly serious.

“Do you, Niall? Do you really? You may know about everything he’s going through professionally, but –“ I took a deep breath, composing myself so my voice was even. “Do you even know the real him? The sensitive Harry that talks about how hard this life is?” I paused taking in Niall’s cold expression

“How about the Harry that’s favorite color is yellow, or that he loves rom coms because they always end happily? Or what about the Harry that’s just trying to cope because this isn’t the lifestyle he planned or hoped for? Do you even know him Niall?” My voice crippled as I finished my rant.

Niall doesn’t know him. Niall knows what he needs to know so he can report to Thompson at the end of the week. Trouble he got into, bars he went to, where the paparazzi who photographed his every move worked so they can get the pictures back from his blacked-out adventures.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall’s voice was too evenly keeled. “At least I know my place, when it comes to my job. Unlike you, who has no issues crossing clear boundaries. I will be pleased to inform Mr. Thompson of your little rendezvous with Mr. Styles this evening.” He turned his back before flicking his face over his shoulder, “And I’m sure we can find out about all the others as well.”

“What?” Niall froze in his tracks; I was too afraid to turn around. “What’s going on?”

I turned to find a red-faced Harry standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Harry,” our voices came in unison.

“You – Niall. Mr. Thompson?” The confusion took its rightful place on his face. “This,” Harry glanced at his sock clad feet. “This was a set up?” I couldn’t find the words to defend myself. “How did you – when were you – “ The unfinished questions never left his lips.

“Harry, I can explain.” My voice was thick. It almost hurt to get the words out. If I didn’t vomit when explaining to him why I like the privacy, it was sure about to come up now.

“You both… you both…” another unfinished question. He shut his door behind him and started walking in the opposite direction of both Niall and me. I gave a desperate glance to Niall, who quickly motioned for me to follow him.

“Go, you should talk to him.” His voice was soft. We both knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. “Better you than me right now.”

I jogged to catch up to Harry. “Harry wait,” I called reaching out for his hand. He quickly swiped it from my grip and quickened his pace. “Harry, please let me explain!” I cried.

“Explain what?” He growled, stopping in his tracks. I stopped just before I crashed into him and took a step back. “Explain how you can go about your day just - just lying to me? About everything? Making me feel these things for you?” His voice was exceptionally hard, barely able to detect the hurt laced through.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” I whispered. ”I – “

“Sorry for what.” He barked, whipping around to face me. “Sorry for making me trust you, or sorry for getting caught in your big scheme.” His words rifled through me like he took an AR-15 to my heart. You should’ve known this could be the outcome. “Whatever you’re sorry for, I don’t want to hear it. See yourself out, I’m done.”

His shoulder bumped me as he walked past. I turned to watch him go back down the hall and around the corner back to his room. I remained motionless when I heard his door slam shut. I felt the wetness of a single tear rolling down my cheek and quickly raised my hand to wipe it away.

How could you have been so stupid, Y/N?

[venialsun]

to begin with, take warning (1/3)

[read on ao3]

1 | 2 | 3

Dick watched Damian physically try to not show his nerves on his face for a full ten minutes—with the success of a trained actor and the failure of a nervous fourteen-year-old playing it off to his older brother—when he caved. They had just driven past the Welcome to Gotham! billboard with “u sure?” and “go back to metropolis cuck!!!” graffitied in looping, hot pink script on the side. It’d be another twenty-five minutes of traffic before they made it to central downtown, and Dick could only stand so much of not-twitchy, not-nervous, I’m-above-this Damian before he burst into laughter and caused some problems.

So he said, “It’s okay to be nervous.”

And from the passenger side, feet up on the dash, looking at his phone, Damian snapped, “I’m not nervous! What is there to be nervous about? It’s an American high school. Big deal. Last week, I stopped a planet-wide catastrophe that would have killed billions in another galaxy, and every night, unless you don’t know, we fight actual monsters and supervillains who actively try to kill us. Some have even succeeded. This is nothing.”

“Yeah,” said Dick, “maybe don’t mention all that on the first day.”

“I know that.”

“And I think you mean ‘my friends and I went to space and stopped a war.’ You know you have to give them credit, too.”

“They’re not my friends,” said Damian. “I work with them. Father isn’t friends with every member of the Justice League, yet he’s worked with near every one of them on League missions. They are my colleagues.”

“So what you’re saying is that you are organizing and leading team missions?” Dick could not keep the amusement out of his voice. “What happened to ‘Teams are unnecessary and a waste of time’? What about the Titans? I know they invited you back.”

“Timothy leads the Titans,” said Damian. “And there’s no room for two Robins on the same team.”

“Mm, don’t know about that, but I also know neither of you would play nice long enough to really try. So no team, okay,” Dick agreed, “and you just happen to be having adventures with other underaged heroes of no relation to you on a periodic basis. And they’re not your friends.”

Damian blinked away from his phone—success!—and scowled. “I do not get your obsession with making friends, Richard,” he said.

Dick splayed his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m glad to see you hanging out with kids your own age, is all. It’s good for you.”

Damian snorted and looked out the window. Gotham’s littered streets and the growing mob of early-morning commuters blurred gray in the smog. In tones of great solemnity he said, “That’s what this whole thing is about, isn’t it? I am going to school to learn how to maintain a secret identity and cultivate a normal public persona. I will be surrounded by kids my own age, and I will be sure to make connections that I will treasure for the rest of my life. These next four years will be the happiest of my life, I know it.”

Dick laughed, and Damian smirked.

“Alright, smartass, I get it. You’re Damian Wayne, haver of too many titles and not leader of any teams, and you’re not nervous about going to high school. I believe you.”

They stopped at a light. Gotham Academy was a few blocks ahead. If they walked, they could be there in ten minutes. Driving as they were in the morning congestion, it would take at least fifteen. Dick didn’t mind. He hummed to himself, waiting. Damian went back to his phone. The light turned green. Dick eased his foot off the brake. They advanced slowly and made it to the front of the line of cars, when the light blinked yellow, then red, and they stopped again.

Damian said, “Father says you were a good student. Well-liked. Studious. Only Robin’s duties caused problems.”

“Bruce said that?” Dick rolled his eyes. “Of course, he did. School was fine,” he said, “though I was mostly focused on being Robin and then the Titans at the time. It was nice, I think. It seems so long ago. But it was hard to have a life there when the most important parts of my life were somewhere else.”

“Wait, Grayson,” Damian said, gleefully, “were you unpopular?”

Dick chuckled, and the light turned green again. “I don’t know what you mean, Dames. I didn’t have that much trouble, and I had a good group of friends. But sometimes I thought it was all a waste of time, time I should’ve spent being Robin. It wasn’t easy hiding parts of myself from my classmates. Keeping the secret meant I couldn’t really be myself or talk to anyone about anything other than school.”

“Until the Titans,” said Damian.

“Until the Titans,” agreed Dick. He glanced at Damian, still with his marginally tense shoulders. “If it counts for anything,” he said, “I don’t think it was a waste of time now. I’m glad I went. I think this is a good thing.”

“Tt,” Damian tutted, but his look was speculative.

“I won’t lie to you and say you will love school. But give it a chance. You might end up liking it.”

“Ever the optimist.”

Dick pulled up into the line of cars for day student drop-off. Gotham Academy stretched across the block, its front tower looming darkly over them in the morning fog. Teenagers in uniform and cheery-looking adults were wandering about, huddling in groups or directing the flow of foot traffic to the entrance and around the side of the façade.

“Got your schedule? Know where you’re going?” Dick asked.

Damian glowered at him.

Dick chuckled. “Right, right, ‘course you do. So I’ll pick you up at four o’clock, okay?”

“And not a minute later,” threatened Damian. And then he set his shoulders, got out of the car, slammed the door, and marched away like he was going into battle.

Dick couldn’t help himself. As he pulled away, he rolled down the window and shouted, “Have a great day at school, Damian! Love ya!”

Without turning around, Damian flipped him the bird.

A whistle blew, and in the rear view Dick saw an upset-looking woman, probably an administrator, point at Damian and loudly scold, “Young man!”

Dick winced, sympathetic yet unrepentant, and merged back into traffic.

Whoops.

•

Yanez knew this would happen, but she had thought it would be at least until midday. Homeroom hadn’t even started. She was busy alternating between threatening her teachers to smile and look happy to be here and smiling half-encouragingly, half-threateningly at students and shepherding them away from their hormonal clusters, when Headmaster Hammer cut a line through the crowd and headed straight to her. A sour-faced Damian Wayne kept pace behind him.

“Good morning,” she greeted, raising an eyebrow, and silently prayed for patience. “Can I help you?”

“Principal Yanez,” said Hammer. He motioned Damian in front of him. “Your student is in need of a reminder of our disciplinary code of conduct.”

Yanez did not miss the emphasis on your. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hammer was still smarting over his demotion from Grand Headmaster of Gotham Academy, with the full powers that entailed, to “Grand Headmaster” of Gotham Academy, a purely honorary title that delegated tasks to the grammar, middle, and upper level administration that Gotham Academy had been divided into. She ignored him and looked down at the dark-haired boy in front of her. He glared back, defiant.

Ah. One of those.

“Damian Wayne, right?” she asked. “Isn’t it too early to be getting in trouble on the first day of school?”

“That depends on your definition of trouble, I suppose,” Damian said. To her surprise, he had the barest hint of an accent. British, maybe. He stuck out his hand. “You must be Samantha Yanez, the Head Principal for grades nine through twelve.”

Bemused, Yanez shook his hand. “That’s me.”

“I can only hope you are better than your predecessor,” said Damian. He glanced at Hammer and managed to make it seem like he was looking down his nose at him, despite being a full foot shorter. “He left much to be desired.”

“Note that down, Principal. Another perfect example of abhorrent and disrespectful student behavior,” said Hammer.

Yanez frowned. “What happened? Perhaps we should take this in my office.”

Already Yanez could see the curious bubble of students starting to form, talking behind their hands or blatantly recording on their phones.

“Certainly,” said Hammer. “It will help expedite the expulsion process.”

“That remains to be seen, Headmaster,” said Yanez.

She led them back to her office, past the crowds of mingling students and through the arching stone hallway that had been commandeered for the clerical staff. She took a seat behind her desk and indicated for them to sit. She tried not to be too annoyed when Hammer went instead to stand behind her, looming over like a gnarled skeleton.

“Okay,” she said. “Damian. Why don’t you explain to me why Headmaster Hammer has brought you in here? He’s threatening expulsion, but I only reserve that option for the most extreme of cases. Think this merits that?”

“Hardly,” scoffed Damian. “My brother was dropping me off and I flipped him off.”

“You—you flipped him off? You put your middle finger up at him?”

“Yes.”

Yanez barely resisted the urge to laugh and glanced at Hammer. His expression was thunderous. She looked back at Damian and waited, but he did not elaborate. “Why did you flip him off?” she asked.

“He is an embarrassment to me.”

“All brothers are embarrassing to their siblings, especially younger ones. Is there more?”

“No.”

“He has treated every administrator that tried to correct his behavior with rancor and disrespect,” said Hammer.

“Hrm.” Yanez steepled her fingers together. “Headmaster Hammer, could Damian and I have the room? I’ll take care of this. I’m sure you are very busy, and I know Principal Trammer could use the help with the elementary kids.”

Hammer scowled—Yanez knew he hated dealing with the primary school kids—but did not argue and took his leave.

When he was gone, Yanez took a moment to study the young boy in front of her. Petulant and angry, dark-haired, brown-skinned, and light-eyed, something tense and haughty in his shoulders—he looked every bit like any of the troubled kids Yanez had taught over her decades-long career. And yet nothing like them at all. There was something different in the set of his chin, the sharpness of his gaze, his crossed arms, like he was looking for danger and ready to meet it.

“Do you want to be here, Damian?” she asked.

Damian’s mouth twisted. “In this room, wasting my time? Not particularly.”

“Well, we can agree on that,” said Yanez. “But I meant here, Gotham Academy.”

Damian shrugged. “My family insists this will be an enriching opportunity.”

“They’re probably right. But I have looked at your records. You tested out of most of the core subjects, and your home-schooling portfolio is very impressive. Yet you are signed up for the standard ninth-grade honors track. When your Father and I met this summer to discuss the terms of your enrollment, he told me you insisted on it.”

Finally some of the animosity slipped from Damian’s face. He seemed intrigued. “You spoke with my father?”

“Only the once and very briefly,” said Yanez, “but yes. He said re-enrolling at Gotham Academy and coming back to school was your idea.”

Damian scowled.

“So I believe some part of you wants to be here, wants to be a student. Is that accurate?” she asked.

“I already regret it,” Damian muttered.

Yanez smiled. “Not the resounding yes I wanted to hear, but I’ll take it.” She reached into a side drawer and pulled out a quarter-sheet of yellow paper and scrawled down a few details. “If you want to be here, then being a student means abiding by some ground rules. Respect others, respect yourself, respect the school.”

“My respect is earned,” said Damian, “not freely given because of some archaic code of conduct.”

“Then you’re already miles ahead of most of the people in this building,” said Yanez. She handed him the slip of paper. “Respect is earned, yes, but you have to give people the chance to earn it in the first place. That means holding off on rude gestures and comments when it can be helped, which is most times. I am giving you two days of community lunch tutoring for flipping your brother off on school grounds and insulting the administrators.”

“Community lunch tutoring?” Damian echoed, scanning the slip.

“It is similar to detention, but instead you tutor other students and help them with their assignments. Report to the technology atrium during your lunchtime today and tomorrow.”

“Sounds dumb,” said Damian. “Why not just expel me?”

“For expressing your feelings and saying mean things to grown adults?” Yanez chuckled and shook her head. “Damian, this is a high school. If I expelled every bratty kid with no respect for authority and a penchant for dramatics, I would be out of a job. If you want to flip people off and bad-mouth teachers and administrators, that’s your business. It is not in my power to stop you, not fully anyway. You’re a smart kid. If you want to be a delinquent then at least be smart about it. If you get caught or the wrong adult overhears you, then you and I will be meeting more often, the repercussions will not be as merciful, and I will have to do a lot more paperwork. And Damian?”

She waited until she had his full attention, and he looked up, curious.

“I hate paperwork,” she said. “Don't let it come to that.” She waved a hand. “Now get out of my office. You’re late.”

next ->

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch24: Like The Old Man Said…Together Part 1- I Wouldn’t Call It A Comfort

Summary: The Avengers track Ultron and it’s a race against time before the AI can put his plan into action.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW) violence and crazy assed robots. Oh and “Something dramatic, I hope!”

A/N: This chapter now contains additional content which is why It has been split into two parts.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: Another massive big up for @angrybirdcr​ for her edits xx

Chapter 23 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“I’ve put the boys to work.” Laura gestured out of the window as Katie chewed on her grilled cheese. She’d had a good four hours sleep and was feeling much better after a scalding hot shower. She glanced across the lawn area to where Steve and Tony were positioned at the side of the house, both holding an axe, stood by a stack of large logs and two piles of smaller logs.

“You got Tony doing manual labour?” Katie grinned at her. “Well played.”

Laura chuckled and then began to chat to about her plans for dinner. “Clint suggested comfort food. fried chicken and Mac and Cheese to be specific”

“You’ll win Steve over instantly.” Katie leaned against the counter. “I’m happy to help, lot of people to feed, not to mention Stevie eats enough for three.”  

“You wanna take her up on that.” Clint walked into the kitchen and opened a drawer near the door.“She’s a damned good cook is Nova. Obviously, not as good as you, babe.” He added as a quick afterthought. “Smooth Barton…” Katie laughed as Laura threw a tea towel at his head. Easily catching it ant tossing it back, he pulled a tape measure from the drawer and left through the backdoor, still laughing, the kids trailing behind him.

Katie stared at the back door as it shut, the normality of the scene suddenly hitting her. He had a wife, two children, and still managed to hold down the ridiculous lifestyle the Avengers and SHIELD demanded.

“How do you do it?” She blurted out. The woman placed the last plate on the sink to drain and straightened up. “I mean this, it’s so ordinary.” she turned, once more looking out of the window. She watched Steve swing his axe, his light blue Under Armour skin top clinging to every part of his torso.

“It’s possible…” Laura mused, standing behind her as she followed the younger woman’s gaze. You know, to have a domestic life…well, a variation on one, away from the mess.”

“Problem is the pair of us are tangled in the mess.” Katie muttered, not taking her eyes off Steve.

“Well then, you should understand each other more.” Laura pointed out, before she changed the subject. “Here, they could probably use a drink. You wanna take ‘em that jug of ice tea for me?”

“Sure.”

A minute or so later Katie crossed the lawn with a tray sporting a full jug and two glasses towards where both men where stood by the decreasing mound of large logs and the two increasing mounds of smaller ones.  Steve’s pile of cut logs was significantly bigger than Tony’s, which was hardly surprising.

And the pair of them were bickering which was also not surprising.

“Is that a problem?” Steve asked, picking the two halves he had just cut up and throwing them onto his pile, bristling slightly at the fact Tony was digging into why he wasn’t as affected by the Maximoff’s visions as everyone else. Truth be told he had been affected, big time, but since he and Katie had talked it through he felt better. But he wasn’t about to tell anyone that, frankly it was no ones’ business what any of them had seen bar their own.

“I don’t trust a guy without a dark side. Call me old fashioned.” Tony shrugged

“Well let’s just say you haven’t seen it yet.” Steve glowered at him, his temper starting to rise. He couldn’t help but feel pissed at Tony, because if it wasn’t for him they wouldn’t even be in this mess.

“You know this is what he’s trying to do right?” A soft voice spoke and Steve turned to see Katie setting a tray of drinks down behind them. They both turned to look at her “Ultron is trying to tear us apart.”

“Well I guess he’d know.” Steve jerked his head in Tony’s direction “Whether he tells us is a bit of a question”

“Banner and I were doing research-”

“That would affect the team” Steve picked up another log. His voice was gaining momentum, and Katie let out a groan, she knew he was getting angry.

“That would end the team” Tony said simply, “Isn’t that the mission? Isn’t that the “why” we fight, so we can end the fight, so we get to go home?”

Without so much as a huff of noise, Steve ripped the log he was holding apart with his bare hands in a fit of temper that aroused Katie far more than it should have done. Tony raised his eyebrows slightly and Steve’s chest heaved as he regained his composure. He turned to look at Tony and spoke, his voice calm and measured.

“Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time.” He spoke softly but sternly, trying to make his point. Loki, Hydra, SHIELD with Insight.. now this.

“I’m sorry. Mr. Stark,” Laura headed across the lawn towards them all. “Uh, Clint said you wouldn’t mind, but, our tractor, it doesn’t seem to want to start at all. I thought maybe you might…

“Yeah, I’ll give her a kick.” Tony smiled at Laura then as he turned to leave he looked back at Steve delivering his next line with the air of a petulant child “Don’t take from my pile.”

“You know if he wasn’t your bother…” Steve reached for a glass of tea, draining it in one and leaving his sentence hanging. Katie took a deep breath and stood up.

“Cut him a bit of slack yeah?” Her eyes flashed. “The Maximoff girl. She got to him too.”

Steve looked down at her and frowned, that was news to him. “But I thought…”

“It was the day we found the sceptre.” Katie said. “She got to him in Strucker’s lab only he didn’t know what it was at the time. And you wanna know what he saw?” her voice wasn’t angry but she levelled Steve with a look that left him with no uncertain terms she was defending her brother “He saw us all dead because he hadn’t tried hard enough.” Steve inwardly groaned as she finished. “That’s what Ultron is about, that’s why he started it again.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” Steve shook his head, gently

“Well now you do.” Katie shrugged and decided to change the subject, “Oh, and by the way, what you did with that log back then-” she mimed pulling something apart. “-kinda turned me on a hell of a lot more than it should.”

He grinned and stepped towards her, closing the short distance they were apart “Well, if we go back inside I can…”

“Nice try, you have wood.” Katie pointed the logs

“Yes and I’d kinda like to do something about it!”

“Steve!” Katie spluttered out through her laugh, as she hit him in the chest, mentally making a note toe have words with Sam for teaching him innuendoes and street slang

He stepped back, laughing and rubbing at the spot where her hand had connected with him. He cocked his head playfully to the right, and was about to say something else about the fact he was feeling pretty horny on account of it being a few days since they’d last enjoyed one another seeing as his plans for her and that tight blue dress had been interrupted post the party, but Katie’s attention was taken by something else.

“Lucky!” She grinned crouching down to pet the dog who was jumping all over her, giving out little barks. “Man you got big!” Steve looked down at his girl and the sandy coloured dog, frowning as he noticed it only had one eye.

“Is this the pizza eating puppy you talked about?” he asked, bending down to pet the dog. “Sure is.” Katie grinned standing up as the dog ran off back to Barton after he whistled. “Not so much of a puppy now though.”

She smiled and made her way back over to the house. Steve looked at the pile of logs, then her, then back and picked up his axe again.

Inside, Katie started to help Laura with the dinner, the pair of them working together easily. Steve and Clint joined them in the kitchen not long after, both men sitting at the table with a beer as Lila scrambled up onto Steve’s knee, Steve waving away Clint’s instruction for her to leave him alone, he didn’t mind one bit. Katie had noticed the small girl sat there, talking to Steve and she’d smiled and turned back to her cooking. She was just rinsing off the salad when she looked up out of the window, seeing something that she really wasn’t expecting.

“I don’t believe it.” She whispered as she watched Tony and the tall, bald headed man with the trench coat and the eye patch walking up the path towards them. She turned to Clint and Steve “We got company, boys.” Both men stood up as the door opened, Lila jumping of Steve’s knee. The soldier’s hands went to his hips, his mouth forming a thin line as his eyes fell onto the man in front of him.

“At ease Soldier…” Fury said, a smile creeping across his face as Tony walked into the room behind him muttering about traitors, Maria Hill and ‘Goth Pirates’

****

“Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time.” Fury said glass of water in his hand as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “My contacts all say he’s building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don’t think it’s just one thing.”

“What about Ultron himself?” Steve asked, he was stood in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the door frame, arms folded.

“Ah. He’s easy to track, he’s everywhere. Guy’s multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit. Still doesn’t help us get an angle on any of his plans though.”

Tony shoved the last piece of the chicken he had been eating in his mouth and walked to the sink to pick up a towel to wipe his hands. “He still going after launch codes? “

“Yes, he is, but he’s not making any headway.”

Katie frowned from her seat at the table, opposite Natasha. “Well that doesn’t make sense. Tony cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school for a dare”.

Tony smiled fondly at the memory. That had earned him an ass whooping and a half from his dad.

“Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that”. Fury continued

“NEXUS?” Steve questioned.

“It’s the world internet hub in Oslo” Banner explained, he was stood behind Natasha leaning against the sideboard. “Every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on earth.”

At that point Lila ran into the room, a piece of paper in her hand.

“So what’d they say?” Clint asked, turning 3 darts over in his hand from his stance a few feet away from Fury.

Lila handed the piece of paper to Natasha, who looked at her, then the paper, grinning and gave the little girl a one armed hug. She placed the paper down on the table and Katie noticed that it was a watercolour paint picture of a butterfly.

“He’s fixated on the missiles.” Fury drained his glass of water. “But the codes are constantly being changed.

“By whom?” Tony questioned. At that point Clint threw the darts straight past Tony, about an inch or so away from his ear straight into the bullseye of the dart board. Tony spun round to glare at him, Clint shrugged apologetically, grinning at the same time. Hawkeye by name, Hawkeye by nature.

“Parties unknown.” Fury said, a puzzled tone to his voice

“Do we have an ally?” Katie asked.

“Ultron’s got an enemy, that’s not the same thing.” Fury looked at her “Still, I’d pay folding money to know who it is”

“I might need to visit Oslo, find our unknown.” Tony pondered, to no one in particular.

“Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you’d have more than that.” Natasha sighed, leaning back in her chair.

“I do.” Nick looked round the room. “I have you.”

Everyone shared a look round the room at one another. None of them were feeling particularly useful if truth be told.

“Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else.” Fury continued “Yet here we all are, back on Earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard.”

“Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk.” Natasha looked at him.

“You know what, Romanoff? “ Steve’s tone was dead pan. She smiled mischievously.

“So what does he want? “ Fury continued.

“To become better. Better than us.” Katie looked around.

“Right, he keeps building bodies.” Steve agreed

“Person bodies. The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we’re outmoded.” Tony mused “But he keeps coming back to it” 

“Yeah, when you two programmed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed” Katie sighed, looking over at Tony then to Bruce, who was looking at Lila’s drawing over Nat’s shoulder, his arms folded, a thoughtful look on his face.

“They don’t need to be protected, they need to evolve.” The Doctor said, not looking up. “Ultron’s going to evolve.”

“How?” Fury asked.

“Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?” Bruce glanced around the room.

There was a pause, and then all at once there was a flurry of activity. Tony whipped his phone out and began to dial, Nat and Katie both stood up, Clint hurried out of the kitchen and Fury was also talking to someone as Steve and Bruce began discussing the intricacies of what Ultron was likely to want Helen for, which centred around the regeneration cradle, a larger version of the technology that had healed Clint after he had been shot when retrieving the sceptre.  

“If Ultron is really building a body…” Steve trailed off as they all prepared to leave,  his voice dropping

“He’ll be more powerful than any of us. Maybe all of us.” Katie sighed.

“An android designed by a robot” Tony finished.

“You know I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science ever created was me.” Steve raised his eyebrows. Katie and Tony both smiled gently.

“I’ll drop Banner off at the tower. Do you mind if I borrow Ms. Hill?” Fury said, pulling on his trench coat.

“She’s all yours, apparently.” Tony shrugged “What are you gonna do? “

“I don’t know. Something dramatic, I hope.”

Katie found herself slightly concerned that the threat of Fury doing something dramatic didn’t worry her half as much as facing Ultron.

*****

Clint expertly piloted the Quinn Jet low enough for Steve to drop onto the roof of the U-GU-Gin Genetic Research Lab roof.

“Two minutes. Stay close.” Steve instructed as the jet roe again to hover above the building away from any eyes.

A few moments passed and then the crew on the jet heard Steve shout “Dr Cho…are you hurt?”  There was a bit of a conversation which they didn’t hear, but then Helen’s voice came over the comms loud and clear, if a little strained.

“The gem, its power is uncontainable. You can’t just blow it up. You have to get the Cradle to Stark.”

There was another pause before Steve’s voice spoke clearly ”Did you guys copy that?

“We did.” Clint said.

“I got a private jet taking off, across town, no manifest.” Katie read the details on the computer screen in front of her. “That could be him.”

“There!” Clint said loudly, pointing out of the front window of the jet. Both Natasha and Katie moved so they could follow his gaze. “It’s the truck from the lab. Right above you, Cap. On the loop by the bridge.”

The jet scanned the truck, confirming their suspicions with the imaging that they all saw on the monitor.

“It’s them.” Clint continued. “I got three with the Cradle, one in the cab. I could take out the driver”

“No.” Katie instructed. “If what Helen is saying is right, that truck crashes, the gem could level the city.”

“We need to draw out Ultron” Steve spoke on the coms. They all waited for a further update and, thirty seconds or so later, there was a loud bang and he followed up his commentary. ”Well, he’s definitely unhappy! I’m gonna try and keep him that way.”

Katie looked down to see Steve was clinging onto the back of the truck and her heart skipped a beat. Making a decision she strode to wing space of the jet and pressed her palm to the pad besides the large locker that contained her suit.

“You’re not a match for him Cap…” Clint said

“Thanks Barton!” Steve replied, sarcastically.

“We need to get down there, give him some back up…”  Katie called, turning round to look at Nat as she stepped backwards, allowing her suit to form around her.

“Ok.” Clint said, nodding “I’ll give you the cover up top.”

Nat took off her headset and joined Katie in the equipment store, pushing a small coms piece into her ear. She headed to the back of the ship, straddling the motorbike that was propped up at the side.

“He’s lost his shield. I’m gonna drop you as close to it as I can.” Clint advised as he flipped a few controls.

“Roger.” Katie continued with the final checks to her suit, without JARVIS she was flying this thing herself, just as she had been at Klaus’ base so she needed to make sure everything was right. Clint steered them down towards the road.

“We got a window. Four, three…give ‘em hell.” Clint said, pushing the button for the ramp. Natasha sped the bike off and dropped down with a squeal of tyres before taking the jet higher.

“Us girls are always picking up after you boys.” She said gently and Katie headed to the back of the ramp, her scans watching as Natasha picked up Steve’s shield, following Clint’s commentary.

“They’re heading under the overpass, I’ve got no shot”

“Which way? “ Nat asked.

“Hard right… Now.” Clint instructed. Natasha did as she was told. As Clint hovered over the top of them Katie shot out from the back of the jet and swooped down just as Natasha threw the shield up to Steve. Steve caught it and instantly flung it, sent the AI flying backwards. Ultron wasn’t down for long, jumping up and resuming the fight as Katie landed behind the Robot as he sent a blast of power at Steve, who instantly held his shield up as he was catapulted backwards onto the bonnet of the car behind. She fired a repulsor at the AI, causing him to turn his attention to her as he wheeled round and shot back. She flew out of the way as the shot hit the car behind, the screeches of brakes and grinding of metal hit her ears as cars collided on the road.

“You Starks are like insects.” Ultron hissed out. “Annoying and irritating.”

“Yeah well, some insects pact a bit of a sting.” Katie shot out a static pulse from the shoulder of her suit. It immobilised Ultron for a good few seconds, which was long enough for Steve to climb back onto the top of the truck, hitting him once more with his shield. As Ultron fell forward towards Katie she jumped up, kicking out with her boot, pushing him down into the metal of the truck before landing.  Ultron regained control of his functions and the three of them began to fight, Steve and Katie dodging the rays of power as they flew at them, Ultron easily deflecting the beams the Supernova suit sent his way.

“Clint can you draw out the guards?”  Nat’s voice came over the comms.

“Let’s find out.”  Clint replied simply.

Katie fired another static pulse towards Ultron, but he easily deflected it and shot once more at her as she spiralled away.

“You think I’d let you get me with that again?” he growled.

“No but, made you look.”  She grinned, and at that point Clint shot the jet downwards and it fired off a few shots at Ultron, deliberately missing the delicate package the truck contained. It worked and as Katie watched 4 Ultron Sentries fly out and follow the jet upwards. Ultron turned and flew at Steve who spun, slamming him into a concrete pillar by the side of the road. Katie swooped in, firing again but Ultron was ready and caught her with a beam causing her to spin blindly through the air.  With no JAVIS to help, it took her a while to regain control but eventually she righted herself just in time to see Ultron spear at Steve, the two of them crashing into a nearby moving train. She shot forward, putting all her power into her thrusters, speeding up to catch it.

"Heading back towards you, whatever you’re gonna’ do. Do it now.” Clint informed over the coms as Katie dropped down so I was level with the train, looking into the windows.

“I’m going in, guys can you keep him occupied?” Natasha questioned as Katie finally caught up with the right carriage to see Ultron sending Steve flying again, landing hard against a metal door.

“What do you think we’ve been doing!”  Steve grit out, shaking his head, as once again he stood up, and resumed his fight with the AI as Katie shot a beam through the window, catching the robot unawares and causing him to fly out of the side of the train.

As she flew in through the window, the AI came crashing through one a bit further up and the two of them shot at one another, the beams hitting in mid-air and deflecting off one another, blowing a hole in the roof of the train.

“The package is airborne.” Clint informed us, “I have a clean shot.”

“Negative I am still in the truck.” Natasha said.

“What the hell are you doing?” Katie yelled, as Ultron sent a bench of seats towards her, which she blasted out of the way.

“Just be ready, I’m sending the package to you, Clint!”

“How do you want me to take it?” Clint asked sarcastically as Katie looked up through the hole in the roof to see the truck way above them.

“Uh, you might wish you hadn’t asked that.”

At that point Katie was floored as Steve landed heavily on top of her, having been blasted off his feet by Ultron.

“Ow…” he muttered, rolling over and off the top of her. Katie groaned as her head bounced off the inside of her metal helmet and hadn’t even had chance to right herself when suddenly she was lifted off her feet as Ultron’s hand crushed at the neck of her suit.

“Like I said, insect.”  He growled, his grip tightening as she raised both her palms to fire, blasting them both backwards, in opposite directions as Katie crashed into the carriage behind. She sat up and shifted the debris and shot forward, as Ultron came again but he was sent backwards as a blur knocked him off balance- the male Maximoff twin. Ultron took a menacing step forwards and the metal guards shifted red and bent in front of us in a protective manor. The female, Wanda, stood behind Ultron, hands outstretched and glowing red. Ultron turned towards her.

"Please, don’t do this.” Ultron pleaded with her.

“What choice do we have?” Wanda countered.

Ultron turned back around and fired in Steve’s direction. Katie was quicker though, pulling him out of the way as the front of the train blew out. The AI then blasted out the side door and escaped.

“We lost him!” Katie said into her coms, face plate sliding back as Steve made his way to the front of the train, reaching over the driver. “Clint, Nat He’s headed back towards you.”

“Nat we gotta go!”  Clint said.

Steve turned back to Katie, shaking his head, he could find no pulse. The driver was dead and the train was out of control heading straight for the end of the line.

“Nat… NAT? Cap you guys see Nat?” Clint questioned worriedly.

"If you have the package, get it to Stark! Go!” Steve commanded, looking up instinctively as Katie reached his side.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?" Clint questioned once again.

"Go!” Steve ordered once again and it seemed Clint obeyed because there was silence on the other side of the coms. Katie looked at him, both of them worried about our friend but equally knowing they had to tackle the problem in hand. The train crashed through the stoppers at the end of the line and carried on, heading straight through the narrow streets.

“There are civilians in our path.” Steve turned to Pietro, once more resuming command. He nodded and sped off in a blur.

“Can you stop this thing?” Katie asked Wanda. She looked unsure but nodded and blasted red tendrils down into the underlining of the train.

It began to slow, but nowhere near enough for them to avoid the building they were heading straight at. Katie slid her face plate back and Steve held his shield out in front of them, protecting them from the impact, and they felt the train starting to slow down, before it eventually came to a steady stop a moment or so later in a street lined with small trading stalls and shops.

As the passengers scrambled to get off the train Steve and Katie remained where they were for a second, Katie’s face plate once more retracting.

“You’re bleeding.” Steve said gently, wiping at her brow.

“Least I’m still here.” She shook her head. “What about Nat?”

“We’ll find her.” He took a deep breath, looking her in the eyes. “I promise.”

He slung his shield onto his back and the pair of them exited the train. Katie spotted Wanda stood next to her brother who was resting against a wall breathing heavily, hunched over with his hands on his knees. As they approached he looked up at Wanda, waving her away

“I’m fine, I just need a minute.” He assured her.

“I’m very tempted not to give you one.” Steve snapped, giving the twins a hard look. The two Maximoffs shared an uneasy glance

“The cradle? Did you get it?” Wanda asked.

“Stark will take care of it.” Steve told her, his tone still clipped.

“No he won’t.” Wanda said incredulously.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Katie glared at the girl

“He will do anything to make things right.” Wanda implored.

Steve turned and gave Katie a questioning look before he spoke into the coms.

“Stark come in. Stark? Anyone on coms?” The only response Steve got was silence. He looked at Katie who tried as well, getting nothing but static. She then tried to route through her phone, but there was nothing there either.

“Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it.” Wanda pressed “Where do you think he got that from?”

Katie took a moment to look around, squinting against the sunlight. People were gathering, chattering in Korean and pointing at the train stretched down the middle of the road.

“I saw into his head.” Wanda implored. “I saw what he has planned. It’s not what he said, not what he told us he wanted.”

“Oh and what did he say he wanted?” Katie asked, turning back to her, her arms folding across her chest.

“He said he wanted peace” the boy, Pietro spoke.

“Oh, well…” Katie snapped, looking round nodding and clapping her gauntlet clad hands together sarcastically “Good job”

“Look…” Steve stepped forward a little before his girl lost her temper, his hands grasping the buckle on his utility belt. “This isn’t about sides, or what’s happened before. It’s about how we shut Ultron down.”

“So, what happens now?” Pietro asked.

“That depends on you.” Steve answered, putting his shield on his back, keeping his stance non-confrontational. “You’ve worked with Ultron; you know how he thinks. We could use the help stopping him.”

Wanda snarled, lips curling back over her teeth. “We won’t work with Stark.”

“Well, you kinda have two options.” Steve retorted immediately, before Katie had chance to. The authority emanating from him was immense, his eyes steady. “You work with us, or work with Ultron. Your choice.”

Katie looked up at Steve as the twins both exchanged glances. Eventually she got fed up and sighed.

“I’m going back to check on Dr Cho.” she looked at Steve “And then I’m going home to figure out how we find Nat…”

“Katie… wait…” He started towards her as she turned, making to walk off up the narrow street

“I’m done waiting Steve.” She snapped, turning to look at him. “And seeing as you don’t seem to want to give things a second’s thought, why should I?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned, running to catch up with her.

“You work with us?” She imitated his voice. “How do you know that she isn’t in our minds, right now, and this isn’t some elaborate scam to get us right where Ultron wants?”

A breeze whipped her hair slightly, and Pietro stood at Steve’s side, Wanda in his arms.

“You move too slow.” the young man taunted looking at them. “We’ll meet you at Cho’s office.”

Katie let out a loud groan of annoyance and walked and out onto the main road, looking around. Steve took a deep breath, she was angry, he knew that. His girl held a grudge, far better than he ever could and he had a feeling that Wanda Maximoff wasn’t going to get round her with a simple apology. But they didn’t have time for that, they needed to get home, find Nat and figure out Ultron’s next steps. And the Maximoffs would be helpful.

Sirens were now flooding his ears and the Emergency services were all over the place, freeing people from the cars, crashed buses, you name it.

“Could use a ride.” Steve turned to her, raising an eyebrow. She glared at him for a moment, before sliding her face plate back down. Without saying a word she gripped his harness at the top above where it held his shield and propelled them both into the air.

Dr Cho was going to be ok. Thankfully. The Scientist kindly offered them the use of her QuinJet, which technically belonged to Tony anyway, but they were grateful nonetheless. As Katie thanked the man who had led them to it, Steve turned to the Maximoff twins.

“Go on.”

Katie felt her mouth drop open as Wanda hesitated and looked to her brother who simply nodded and the two of them boarded.  Katie watched them incredulously before she rounded on Steve and he winced, awaiting the barrage which hit him full pelt.

“I can’t believe you seriously want to take them back to base.” She hissed at him.

“I told you before, they can help.” He replied calmly.

“You’re out of your mind!” Katie shook her head, the petulant child in her well and truly rearing its head “You know what actually, if they’re going, then I’m staying here.”

“For God’s sake Katie…” Steve groaned exasperatedly, running his hand through his hair, his helmet hanging in his left hand “You’re being unreasonable…”  

“I’m being unreasonable?” She rounded on him, her cheeks flushing with anger. “You’re the one who wants to take them right into the middle of our base, give them access to all our technology, when we don’t know if they’re still working for Ultron or not!”

“Katie, just get on the fucking jet now.” Steve’s voice was low, but he was angry.  He didn’t have time for this shit, he was tired, worried, and just wanted to get them all together so they could find Nat and end this and she was behaving like a total brat.

Katie looked at him, his eyes were flashing and he had a look on his face she couldn’t ever recall him using on her before. It was enough to shock her into compliance, but only after she shot him the dirtiest glare she could, before she stormed onto the jet.

Two hours later and Katie still hadn’t spoken a word to Steve or anyone else for that matter, she was fuming. Pietro and Wanda had been mostly silent up until that point, exchanging the odd bit of chatter between themselves in Sokovian, but neither approaching either of the other two until Pietro came to the cockpit.

“Miss Stark, I’m sorry, but please, do you have a spare jacket? My sister is cold.”

Katie glared at him, then looked to the back of the jet where Wanda was sat on one of the chairs, her knees pulled up to her chin. Damned it, despite everything Katie felt a small pang of pity for her.

“Sure, just give me a second.” She answered, a little gruffly but less angrily as she stood up out of her seat.

Steve had to smile, despite everything she wasn’t callous, and she knew what it was like to be cold and frightened. Katie glanced down and caught the look he was giving her and she glared at him.

“I will slap that smirk right off your face.” She threatened. Immediately he held his hands up, palms facing her in an “I’m sorry” motion and she walked over to the back of the jet and started looking in a few of the cupboards. Eventually she found a black fleece jacket, emblazoned with U-Gen logo, along with a blanket. In one of the other cupboards she found bottles of water supplies along with some snack bars and bags of chips.

“Here.” She walked over to Wanda and handed her the jacket and fleece.

“Thank you.” The teenager pulled the fleece around her.

“You hungry or need a drink?” Katie offered.

They looked at one another.

“I’m not going to poison you.” She rolled her eyes.

Wanda nodded and Katie handed her a bottle of water and Pietro took a granola bar from her and a bag of chips. Katie glanced at the twins and then suddenly had to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue.

“Why do you hate us so much, the Avengers?” She blurted out. Steve turned his head slightly so he could listen in.

“I don’t hate the avengers. I hate you and your brother. Well I did. I don’t know maybe I still do.”

“But why?” Katie said, puzzled “You don’t know us?”

“Our home was bombed.” Wanda said, looking at her hands “It hit 2 floors below and blew a hole in our floor. Our parents fell but Pietro grabbed me and we rolled under the bed.” “The second one hits.” Pietro continued gently “But it doesn’t explode. It just sits there, three feet from our faces. And on the side of the shell is painted two words…” “Stark Industries” Katie swallowed, suddenly understanding. “You know we shut the arms side of the business down once we both realised the damage it was doing. I know that doesn’t absolve us of any guilt but…my brother is a good man, maybe he doesn’t always get it right but he tries.”

“But that is my point.” Wanda pressed “Ultron…he wants world peace, but he thinks the way to do that is to kill people, innocent people.”

“That’s not what Tony wants” Katie pressed

“But he created Ultron.” Pietro joined the conversation

“Yes, because of you!” Katie implored.

“Sorry, because of us?” “You made him see something, in Strucker’s lab. A vision, a vision that showed all of the Avengers dead, the world ending and Tony was left alone because he didn’t try hard enough to stop it.” At that point Wanda and Pietro exchanged glances as she continued “You made him believe he needed to do something, something more and Ultron was the result. He was supposed to be the thing that Tony thinks we need, something to bring peace…”

“You know, maybe we aren’t that different to Stark after all.” Pietro broke the moment or so silence that had descended. “I mean, we volunteered for HYDRA.”

“They said that they would make us super-human, like your Captain America over there.” Wanda sipped her water and Steve’s eyes flickered over the back of the jet for a moment before he turned back to the front. “Then we could fight…”

“They didn’t say what it would cost.” Pietro spat. “The experiments. The constant pain.”

“Guess we all made bad decisions for what we thought were the right reasons.” Katie shrugged “What matters now is how we fix this mess.”

With that she left them to it, taking her drink and one for Steve to the front of the jet.

“Thanks.” he said gently

“I assume you heard all that.”

“Super sensitive hearing, Doll, what can I say?” He smiled. She rolled her eyes. “You still pissed at me?” She raised her eyebrow at him, and with a teasing note chastised him. “Language.”

Steve smiled, reached over for her hand and drew it up to his face, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before he let go and took a drink of water, before he glanced back out of the front window of the jet.

An hour or so later they managed to get through to Clint on the coms.

“Any news on Nat?” Katie asked him.

“I’m trying the old fashioned way. That should avoid Ultron. I’ll find her”

“I don’t doubt it Hawkeye.” She smiled.

“What about Stark and the cradle?” Steve asked.

“In the lab with Banner, why you ask?”

Katie glanced at Steve, his jaw set tightly but that was the sum total of the reaction from him. He didn’t want to voice what was on his mind and risk pissing her off even more. Instead he chose his words carefully.

“Just… well, the twins told us what’s in that Cradle and Ultron’s plans for it. I’m worried Tony could start something he doesn’t understand.”  “Twins? The Maximoffs?” Clint asked and then he let out a groan “You’re bringing them here aren’t you?”

“You gotta trust me on this one, Clint.” Steve sighed “They’ve seen Ultron’s end game. They want to help us fight him.” “Yeah well I’ll make my own mind up on that one, I’ll see you when you get back.” “Great…” Katie sighed “Now he’s pissed as well.”

**** “I’m gonna say this once!” Steve’s voice was loud

“How about "nonce”?” Tony shot back.

“Shut it down!” Steve pointed at the cradle.

“Nope, not gonna happen.”  Tony shook his head.

There had been a bit of a fight in the lab, shields being flung, repulsors fired, and then Thor had turned up, supercharged the cradle, and it had gotten even stranger when a red man, an android had emerged.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, in JARVIS’ voice “That was, odd. Thank you.” He added nodding respectfully to Thor, before his unnervingly human-looking eyes trailed over Thor thoughtfully. Then he rolled his shoulders and a cape of his own appeared and flowed down his back.

“Thor, you helped create this?” Steve asked

“I’ve had a vision, the world, where it starts, all hope and life and at its centre, is that.” Thor responded pointing to the gold stone in the middle of the man’s forehead.

“What the gem?” Banner asked in confusion. Thor nodded.

“It’s the mindstone,” He explained. “One of the six infinity stones, the greatest power in the universe and it is unparalleled in its destructive capabilities.”

“Then why would you bring it to life?” Katie asked, taking a deep breath, folding her arms.

“Because Stark is right.” Thor said.

“Oh, it’s definitely the end of times.” Bruce sarcastically to Tony’s shocked but proud expression.

“The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron.” Thor continued and the red man politely cut in.

“Not alone.”

“Why does your vision sound like JARVIS?” Katie questioned still cautious of this new being.

“We reconfigured Jarvis’ matrix, to create something new.” Tony walked up towards his masterpiece and examined him.

“I think I’ve had my fill of new.” Steve replied sarcastically.

“You think I am a child of Ultron.” The red man stated rather than asked.

“You’re not?” Steve replied suspiciously still glaring.

“I am not Ultron.” He answered simply. “I am not JARVIS. I am…” He looked down at his hands as if they would hold the answer.

“I looked in your head,” Wanda stated stepping towards him. “I saw annihilation.”

“Look again.” Vision responded in the same simple tone.

“Ha, her seal of approval means jack to me.” Clint snorted, Katie found herself inclined to agree.

“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all came from the mindstone.” Thor said, looking round “And that is nothing compared to what it could unleash, but with it on our side-”

“Is it?” Steve cut Thor off then turned aiming his next question at him towards the red man, needing to hear confirmation “Are you, on our side?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” Vision answered truthfully.

“Well it better get real simple real soon.” Clint said seriously.

“I am on the side of life,” Vision continued, “Ultron isn’t, he will end it all.”

“What’s he waiting for?” Tony asked.

“You.” He stated easily, looking around at us all.

“Where?” Katie pressed.

“Sokovia.” Clint supplied helpfully. “Yeah, he’s got Nat there too.”

Katie looked at Clint who raised his eyebrow slightly and he shrugged. He’d found her, just like he said.

“If we’re wrong about you,” Bruce said approaching the man. “If you’re the monster Ultron created you to be…”

“What will you do?” The red man asked and Bruce stayed silent.

“I don’t want to kill Ultron, he is unique, and he’s in pain,” Vision paced slowly around the room, “but that pain will roll over the earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he’s built, every trace and presence of him. We have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the other.”

He turned back to look at everyone in the room individually, then he did something completely unexpected as he picked up Thor’s hammer from the table. Steve felt his eyebrows raise in shock whereas Katie was looking at Thor, her mouth open, the god was wearing a look of utter confusion.

“There may be no way to make you trust me, but we need to go.” Vision finished holding out the hammer for Thor to take. Thor took his weapon back and the man walked away.

There was a moment of silence before Thor coughed.

“Right, well done.” he said awkwardly patting Tony on the shoulder and followed the red man out of the room.

“Three minutes, get what you need.” Steve announced.

**** Chapter 24 Part 2

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Poisoning, Poison, Heist gone wrong, Peter Nureyev has ADHD, Rita defiantly has ADHD, Nonbinary Juno Steel, crime against crime itself, No Beta, we die like the friends of Sasha Wire, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, The Penumbra Podcast, TPP, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe Summary:

After Nureyev get's poisoned on a mission, he's determined to see it to it's completion. He and Juno make quite the team after all.

Chapter 2

Babe-" his brow knitted together as someone shook him gently. "Babe, time to wake up." The touch was so tender- and yet it set his head off hammering.  

Nureyev groaned, hiding his face in the nook of Juno’s neck. A few more minutes in bed wouldn’t hurt.

“Come on Ransom, we’re home.” There was a hand running through his hair he leaned into the touch.  Juno’s words caught up with his mind, we’re home. More importantly, they weren’t alone.

Nureyev’s eyes flew open and locked onto Jet, his expression unreadable. This was not their bedroom aboard the Carte Blanche, this was the hanger, the Ruby; and once again, he was making a scene in front of Jet. Confound it all.  

He unfurled best he could, breath catching with the unexpected wave of nausea. His hand pressed to his corset front so that he nearly fell back into Juno.  

“Babe?” Through the thick molasses of thought, Nureyev dragged his attention back to the Detective.  

“Hmm?” His voice came small and weak, even to his own ears. Still he was determined to project some semblance of normalcy. He forced leadend limbs to extricate himself from the Ruby, Juno right behind.  

“The Big Guy has something to say.” The Detective jerked his head towards Jet, his pearl earrings dancing in the light.  

“Indeed-” he turned to Nureyev, an extra crease forming in his brow “First, are you alright Ransom? You do not look well.” the Ruby whistled as if in agreement.

Nureyev hummed “Nothing a little rest won’t help-” he rubbed absently at his throat, sure that bruises had made themselves visible. “What- were you going to say?”

“Buddy set the family meeting to take place in one hour's time.” Jet explained. “As we could not hear you during the mission, there are details we require about Mx. Balsa and-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Big Guy, we know how the Family Meetings go by now.” Juno cut in hand on hip.

“I find it beneficial to go over procedures to ensure quality performance.”

“Okay, yeah. Guess that makes sense, but-”

There was an explosion that shook the entirety of the carte blanche, nearly toppling Nureyev. Half formed thoughts of security and debt collectors flashed through his mind.    

Were they there?  We're they coming for him?

Before they could so much as ask a question, Rita started to wail and Vespa cursed loudly from the direction of the kitchen. Jet excused himself and went to investigate leaving the pair alone with the Ruby.

“The hell was that?” Juno was tense, every muscle in his being straining towards the commotion.  His goddess was ever the curious one.  The scene was enough to make Nureyev smile.

“Oh go on Juno- she may require- your services.”

Juno’s head whipped back to face him, the pearl earrings flashing in the warm light. “But what about you?”

“Me? Why I’ll be fine- Detective.”

His eye was large, soft and unsure. He so wanted to check on his friend and yet, was plainly reluctant to leave Nureyev’s side

“But-”

“We can play doctor later. For now- go-”

That seemed to do the trick. He flushed prettily at that, “Well, if you’re sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” he turned and Nureyev could hear him muttering under his breath “Damnit Rita- If this is another one of your snacks I swear-” before disappearing from sight.  

Fine, as it turned out, may have been an overstatement.

As soon as Juno left, he realized just how unwell he felt. He'd half a mind to call the Detective back, or call Vespa-  

Vespa-

His head throbbed at the thought of having to see her in such a state. No, a good lie down should surface.

Nureyev wasn't sure how he'd managed to make it back to his room. He felt heavier and heavier with each foot fall, each movement becoming more of a labor. Pain flared at his core, tripping him up. He fell hard into the wall smacking his temple hard enough to see stars.  

Get a grip on yourself, he chastised, frustration flashing bright and hot within. He hissed as his stomach lurched, acrid saliva rushing to pool in his mouth. Reflexively, he pressed a hand flat to his stomach, trying to breathe through it. Now he was just being foolish. All that he could do was will himself to not be sick.  

Then where would you be- he shook himself glancing up. Still the corridor stretched out long and treacherous. Unyielding in it it's length and tedium.  

There was nothing for it but to tredge on.

The closer he got to his room the greater the pain in his abdomen. He leaned on his door and put in the security code with shaking hands. Sweat trickling down his face, his back, plastering the finery to skin.  

A fresh stab of pain slammed into Nureyev just as the door swooshed open. He toppled in, the world blurring in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color. It was as though he was in a Martian teleporter again, careening through space and matter, no discernable surroundings, just the fall. He flailed. An eternity later his knees hit hard into the sea of debris masking the floor.  

What just happened? He was left to wonder, face pressed into a pile of clothes. Gasping, he attempted to pull himself upright but he couldn’t manage. It didn't make sense! Arms strong enough to scale a building should not feel so weak, so very hard to support- as though bone had been replaced with cast iron.  

Nureyev shifted, trying again to sit, maybe get to his bed, his comms- pain ripped through him. This time he couldn't hold back the strangled yell as he convulsed around his middle.  

Somewhere, in the back of his mind he realized he could die like this, and there would be nothing he could do.

He sent a silent apology to Juno.

"The Thief still isn't here-" growled Vespa.

"Yeah, I know." Said Juno. It wasn't like Nureyev to be late, especially to something scheduled by the Buddy Aurinko.  

"So what could be taking him so damn long Steel."

"Well I'd say it's the sabotage plan Vespa, I hear those are pretty lengthy."

"Oh very funny!"

"Look, I know about as much as you do okay?" Juno shot back, irritation getting the better of him. Okay, so the man didn't give them a name, why the hell did they have to continue to gang up on him? "Last thing he told me before Rita's microwave mishap-"

"It said microwavable on the tin Boss!"

"Yes but you have to take it out before you- god, Okay, look, not the point! Ransom said he wasn't feeling well and wanted a nap before the meeting."

"You are thinking he fell asleep like he did in the Ruby." Jet added thoughtfully while Rita wove elaborate braids into his hair and trimmed away the singed ends.

"Mista Ransom ain't feeling well? You should give him a kiss and make him feel better Mista Steel. Oh! Like in Jovian Princess! Lights Out, where the beautiful princess is awakened from her slumber of a thousand years by the other princess from a warring kingdom! And-"

"Rita dear, you bring up a fine point." Buddy interjected smoothly, "Pete's not here and the only one who can tell us why is Pete. And seeing as he made up a significant part of the heist-"

Juno knew where this was going and was already half out of his seat "I'll get him."

"Thank you darling." Buddy smiled.  

The door to Nureyev's room was, predictably, closed. Juno knocked "Babe? You in there?"

No reply.

Frowning he tried again "Babe?"

Nothing.

"I'm coming in."

The doors swooshed open to reveal the environmental hazard that was his boyfriend's room. The bed was empty, if you didn't count crumpled paper, and mounds of equipment and clothes. Hell, the man could use a few cleaning tips-

He spotted a molded plate of- something-

Or an encyclopedia...

He cast his eye about, trying to make sence of the "I-Spy" chaos of the room, before giving up to look elsewhere when he spotted a leg in the mess.

"Nureyev!" Juno couldn't help but call out fear spiking in his chest. The man was lying on his side, curled up around his middle, racked in tremors. Tangled in the mess around him enough to be camouflaged.  "Nureyev! Hey, hey hey babe-'' he dove to his side, carefully rolling him up into his arms. He whimpered faintly, protesting the movement. "I'm here, what's wrong?"

Tenderly, Juno smoothed back the hair sticking to his clammy brow. Hell, why was he so cold?

"Ju-no-" normally, Juno loved the way Nureyev said his name. As though it were a damned love language all its own.  But now it was a small broken thing as though he'd put all his strength into it. As though he were surprised Juno was there at all. He was looking at him with those eyes again, but the brightness was…. strange- glassy. It was taking him too long to focus. "Ju-no-" his chest stuttered "I- ugh-" he collapsed further in on himself, face contorting in pain. All this took seconds, but might as well have been an eternity.  

"Nureyev! Come on babe, don't do that!" Juno's mind spun wildly. He wasn’t dealing with some mask now, not Rex Glass, or Duke Rose, not even Peter Ransom. No, this was Peter Nureyev striped bare- and he was in serious pain. The man keened in a way that was so very wrong for him. The sound was barely above a whisper yet cut Juno to his core.  

“H-hurts-”

“I-I know babe, just- just give me a sec- Just-”

That's when he saw it, the odd discoloration of Nureyev's lips. He'd missed at first because of the faint pigment that clung to his features. His words of a few hours ago came floating back 'just a tad under the weather... something I drank…'

He had told him.  

Hours ago.  

He had told him hours ago and Juno had done nothing.  

Steel you goddamned idiot! He scrambled for his comms, murmuring assurance to his thief as he went, trying to ease him back open. He couldn't squash the rising panic now.

"Steel, what the hell-"

"We need help! Vespa- please!" Nureyev stilled again, his chest working overtime, producing short, shallow bursts of air. Arm wrapped over the corsets front.  

Goddamned it! His corset!

Juno swore loudly into the comms, tossing them down on speaker, "I went looking for him, and, Christ-" his hand slipped on a fastening, slicing deep into his palm. Why were these clasps so hard do undoo? "H-h-he's sick Vespa, really sick. Dammit I- I think he was poisoned-"

“Poisoned?” Even through the fear fogging his brain he could hear the scrape of chairs and pounding feet. “What do you mean by that Steel?”

“Poisoned! You know, when something gets into your body that isn’t supposed-” Nureyev’s hand closed around his wrist, shocking him out of the pointless rant. As if trying to stop Juno from undoing more of the fastenings. “It’s gotta come off babe-”

“Nn-no-” he choked out.

"You need to breathe Ransom-" he said, easily breaking his grip. That too was wrong but there wasn't time for that. Nureyev curled with each fastener undone, gasping and trembling. It was hard for Juno to not feel like the worst girlfriend in the Galaxy.  

"Course I know what poisoning is!" Vespa snapped "what I don't know is how the hell did he manage to get himself poisoned."

At some point Nureyev had turned into Juno, a hand tangling in his shirt, the other clamped around his stomach as tightly as he could manage. The movements were odd clumsy things that lacked his usual precision, his grace.

He was quite then, an eerie silence that spoke of years of hidden spaces and dangerous places. Normally he'd be trying to be as useful to Vespa as possible, filling her in on the necessary details. But not now.  

Juno hated that more than anything else.

"The mission. There was some sort of stupid test- a-a-and he told me not to drink it! Damnit it! He told me! I-I never even thought that he might of-"

“Cool it Steel.” Vespa cut in, not unkindly. “I’m getting the Med Bay setup. You gonna bring him to us, or should I send the gurney?”

Nureyev was long, lean and wiry. Not the easiest person to move around but Juno managed it before. Admittedly, those were more entertaining moments, but the presidents still stands.

“I’ll bring him.”

“Great. Move the thief, and I’ll be ready for you.” at any other time that may have sounded like a threat, but now it sounded like the most reassuring thing he’s ever heard.  

All he had to do was move Nureyev, he could do that.  

Juno glanced down at the man holding onto him like a lifeline, his face tucked into the popped collar of his coat. He hadn’t even taken it off. God-

Carefully, Juno shifted him, Nureyev hissed, pressing closer.  

What was he supposed to do with that? Juno took a deep steading breath of his own, running his fingers through Nureyev’s damp locks in what he hoped to be a comforting manor.  

“Okay babe, we’re going to have to move you” perhaps telling him would make it easier. He tried again, sweeping his arm behind his shoulders and lifting. Only for his foot to catch on the coat trane, he tripped shaking the nameless thief something fierce-

Nureyev cried out at the jostling- folding so that his gangly form nearly slipped through Juno's grasp. They just made it to the bed before his hold broke. The Thief spilled onto the unmade covers, holding his stomach, eyes squeezed shut. Breathing, just, breathing.  

Juno knew that look. And Dammit he was the one that put that look there. After he swore to himself that he’d never hurt him again.  

Nope, no, ugh-ah, no way in hell could he do this- He’d have to call for a stretcher after all.

“You comin some time this century, Steel?”

How long had they been there? “I- it’s hurting him.”

“Jesus Steel! Better pain than death!”

"But-" his brain caught up to his mouth, "yeah-" what the hell was wrong with him? He'd try again but first the coat had to go.

The Detective essed an arm over his shoulders before gathering the rest of the thief. Long limbs sitting strangely in the Lady's hold. There was a lot to manage, but manage, Juno did. It got easier after the hell scape of Nureyev's room.  

Nureyev's head lolled against Juno's neck, as though he couldn't support its weight.

"Hang on babe." Juno wheezed "just- for me, please-"

His lungs were tight and his legs burned, his burden heavier with each step, but it hardly mattered, they were nearly there now-

"Vespa!" He shouted, he'd forgotten the comms, "I got him!"

"Bout damn time! A Rengian sea slug could of moved faster!" She said, all the same indicating the operating table.

Juno had to raise up on tip toe to clear Nureyev onto the bedding. The man fell away with a piteous groan, fingers digging into the ruined shirt front.

"I know Babe, I know- We are having you looked at though."

That didn't seem to calm him down, if anything he became more distressed. Tried to raise himself up, move his legs, only to collapse back.

"Babe- babe come on-"” at a loss, Juno cupped Nureyev’s face in one hand, while the other was planted firmly on the man’s chest, mirroring the frantic dance of his own crappy lungs. “Ransom- babe, you’re- okay now”

“Jun-no- I don' feel- well-” it looked like it was hard for him to say, and not just because the words came out heavily accented and slurred.

“I know babe, Vespa is on it.”

"Vess-pa?" He glanced over, eyes widening at the acid green.

"Yeah Ransom, it's me."

Was it his imagination? Or did Nureyev seem to recoil? Shrinking in on himself as though trying to protect vitals.  

"Ransom, hey hey hey-" he tried to refocus him.  

"Hold 'im steady, I need a blood sample."

"Rr-right." He said, pressing Nureyev back into the covers. The man offered no resistance and Juno was left anxiously thumbing his cheek while the deed was done.

Vespa pushed him out of the way after that, cursing at her inspection of the thief and kept barking questions Juno's direction like:

"When did he get poisoned?” and “How much did he take?” and “What symptoms did the thief present?”

There were only a few questions Juno was equipped to answer. The mounting unknowns were only adding to his pile of worry. God, if Nureyev dies because he wasn’t paying attention- dies because he hadn't watched him more? Or at the very least got him checked out after puking his guts out in an ally.  

The man had been poisoned right in front of him and Juno hadn’t noticed.  

The man had been poisoned right in front of him and hadn’t thought to tell Juno-

Juno couldn't help but wonder why?  

Vespa cut away Nureyev's shirt, exposing the narrow muscled frame and the delicate criss cross of scars.  The ones he didn't bother remove.

Weren't they partners?  

She attached wireless monitors over his heart, his pulse points. Getting Juno to help clear away the rags.

Did he still not trust him?  

There was more swearing as their resident doc looked at the blood readings, already plugging something into the system. Christ, he was useless with computers, but even he knew that heartbeat was weak.

He couldn't help feel as though he were useless to Nureyev too-

Then he noticed it- Nureyev's chest had stopped moving.  

"Vespa!" He called out fear clawing at his insides. To her credit, she saw it right away.

"Goddamn it thief! I'm not done with you yet!" Rather than trying to get his lungs working again, she tore into her supplies with the care and ferocity of a sewer rabbit navigating it's tunnels. Everything remained impeccably organized, if a little man handled. The monitor started to sound urgently.

"There-" she said in triumph, holding out a large vial.

He couldn't understand what the big deal was-. Too preoccupied with the still form Infront of him.  "Vespa, he's not-"

"It's liquid oxygen moron," she said, filling a syringe "this way we have time to intubate."

"Intubate?" That was- serious- hell, Juno had it done before and the weeks of respiratory therapy were enough of a deterrent to avoid a third encounter-

Well, as much as someone in his line of work could-

The needle was worked into Nureyev's arm, and the contents released. The monitor began to calm down, but Vespa didn't slow.  

"You need to leave Steel." She growled. "Now."

He looked at her incredulous, how the hell did she think that he could leave at a time like this? He was about to say as much too when she elaborated

"You don't want to see this."

"But"

"I Said Out! I can't babysit you both!"

It might as well have been a knife to the gut. Juno took one glance more at Nureyev, frozen on the table, and walked out.

(Thank you for reading <3  Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated)

[grumpy-zane]

The group landed on the hard desert ground. “Did you set the dial thing right?” Jay groaned, hoisting himself up.

“You think I know how to use it?” Kai followed suit.

across from the group, the droid slowly stood up, shuttering with electricity. Her voice was warped, “What have you done..?”

“We stopped you! And.. we’re in our own time!” Jay jumped to his feet, “Stand down or face my lighting.”

“You.. Fools!” She snapped, teetering, “You didn’t send us forward, you sent us back!”

“back? how far?” Lloyd stood up and approached, the ninja surrounding her.

“You think that boy Cyrus knew how to reverse an element of time? He only made it unstable, unusable!” a bolt of lighting shot out and grounded itself. “We’re stuck here, we’re all stuck here! And it’s all your fault!”

Zane knealt down to meet her at eye-level, “Xalie, I understand your frustration, and we understand why you wanted to change the past, but you don’t need to change the past to make things better for you.”

She glared, “Easy for you to say, you’re in love with the best version.”

“Cyrus would have found a purpose for you.”

“Would he? I was supposed to be erased, he said I was too unstable, I was too emotional, I was not what he was looking for. I was stuck in storage as a ‘just in case’, but he never trusted me. PIXAL and I, and the 12 other prototypes, we share the same coding. We share the same logic, He tore her personality out of her because I am what she would be. I. Am. Her.”

“you’re not Pixal, no one else is,” Zanes voice was gentle, a stark contrast to her snarling, “but you’re right on one thing. When I met pixal, she had no personality, she didn’t function for herself, but to assist others... but I was wrong there too. She did have feelings, she had a lot of them about a lot of things, and it wasn’t until I got to know her that she showed me them.”

“Yeah, and you were head over heels for her, love at first sight.” Cole pointed, much to Zane’s embarrassment.

“Look, bottom line, you’re not Pixal, and she didn’t replace you, your job wasn’t to assist others.” Kai said.

“Then.. what is my purpose?”

Zane stared through her, the rest of the ninja exchanging glances, “I don’t know. But we can figure that out when we get back together.”

--

“So where exactly are we? Where’s Ninjago City?” They had walked across the desert westward, not a single sky-scraper in sight. At least there was a main road, but it was made of pressed sand instead of cement as it did in their time.

“Kai, don’t you remember when the time twins erased technology?” Jay held up his hands, “It looked almost like this.”

“Uh, yeah, was kind of stuck in a time stream.”

“Oooh, right..”

“hey guys, look over there,” Lloyd pointed over the dunes at a small settlement bordering scrub land. There appeared to be a train station behind that, evident by a large silver bell in a tower. “I think that’s the city.”

“History records state that Ninjago city around this time wasn’t a city, but a collection of settlements that merged together as they expanded. This must be the farthest east-ward portion. The largest area is by the coast.” Xalie informed. “it may be a good idea to ask around for the current master of time.”

“ugh, will we even be speaking the same language?” Jay groaned.

“It’s only been about 100 years,” Zane chirped, “I am very curious to hear the accents of this time.”

The people recognized them as ninja immediately, a swarm of kids running around them in awe. Kai found it hard to pull himself away from their questions, even going so far as to let a bunch climb up and topple him over. Cole had no issue holding four on each arm, their parents hovering close-by just in case.

They seemed weary of Zane and Xalie, however, who stood out like sore thumbs. “Are you from Metalonia?” one of the townsfolk asked them.

“No we are from-” Zane was elbowed in the side, “I mean, yes.”

“I can tell, why you both look so interesting in that armor. Isn’t it hot in there?”

“The plating is surprisingly breathable, thank you very much,” She redirected the conversation, “Do you know where we can find the Elemental Master of Time?” A bunch of kids proceeded to climb up on Cole in the background.

She thought about it, “No, I’ll go ask my husband, he works for the post.”

--

Now, it was the waiting game. the group stood around the edge of the platform, eyes running down the tracks that seemed to go on forever. the womans husband was able to give them the scheldue, but his appearance had raised more questions that answers.

Part of the on and off conversation while they waited was wondering if the postman was human, or if he was a time traveler. He looked no different now than he did in their normal time.

“Maybe he’s an Oni?” Nya suggested, “Masters of disguise.”

“I’m thinking that too, now that you mention it. But we have other powerful beings in ninjago. What if he’s an elemental master?”

“elemental master of eternal life? Sounds far fetched.” Cole leaned against a post.

Jay blinked, “What if, and hear me out, what if it’s a curse? How many mailmen have you seen in your life? I’ve only see him, like he’s the only postman in all of ninjago... or maybe.. all postmen look the same.”

“I highly doubt that too.”

“Yeah, sorry Jay, I’m going with my sister’s theory.”

A distant whistle cut their thoughts short, the quiet sound of chugging echoing as the train approached. It whistled twice, slowing down as it rolled into the station.The person that hopped off the side sent chills up the ninjas’ spines. He flashed them a smile and wandered around the side, opening up the low-hatches and pulling out the duffel bags along with a few others.

“That’s the crazy conductor guy-!” Jay hiss-whispered, poking his head uo from between Nya’s and Lloyd’s shoulder.

“I know, He seems fine now..” Lloyd murmured back, corralling the group back to give room for the guests stepping out. It was at this point his genuine smile seemed strained, eyes moving nervously as they continued to watch him work. Lloyd felt someone watching back, but it wasn’t the conductor. His green eyes scanned about inconspicuously.

“Heya folks!” Jay tried to leap out of the way in terror, but he stranger had an arm wrapped around his shoulder, “Easy there, I’m just as shocked to see you guys here as you are to me.”

Basket-hat, brown poncho, black hair, shifty eyes- “Plexiglass?”

The man let go and laugh, “Shoot, you do know me. Who sent you this time, the emperor? Some vigilantes? Mind introducing yourself or are you bound by ninja-honor?” He poked Jay’s suit. “Have some business with the train?”

Kai lit up, knowing perfectly well what he was capable of, “Yeah, actually I think you can help us.”

“that’s not what I was asking kid, but okay what do you need?” He fixed his hat. Favrile watched them from his position, fixing his blue and red suit train suit.

“We need you, and him, and most importantly, we need to find the elemental master of time.” Lloyd stepped in front of Jay.

Plexi looked iffy, shooting a glance at his friend, “Don’t know how to help you there, elemental masters aren’t really my thing. In fact it’s peculiar that you’d ask me that...” his hands hid under his poncho. “How about we discuss this inside?” He bobbed his chin at the train.

Favrile looked even more weary than before.

[cooltrainererika]

A Star Wars Noob’s ideas for fixing the Disney sequels

Okay so just to get this out there, because it won’t leave my mind.

So I’ve been binging on SW lately and the sequels only annoy me more and more by the day. So just wanted to throw my character ideas out into the world. Focusing on characters because I like writing characters way more than plot. Hopefully if I ever actually write this thing, or even somehow pitch it to someone with the right connections to animate it with the actors as voice actors, this wouldn’t have gone viral. But since no one looks at my blog it probably won’t lol. Hopefully.

But just in case, I’ll say that this will probably contain spoilers for a story which may or may not exist by the time you read this.

I’ve deliberately been trying to avoid as much emotional spoilers and normal spoilers as I can before the sequels despite the temptation, so sorry if some stuff is a bit off. Augh I hope I can get the time to watch the full OT and PT soon. I was too tired from hiking when I watched SW4 and I now really wish my dad didn’t show me when I was half-asleep.

Rey: Rainbow of possibilities; Cynical Scavenger, Adventure-seeking Audience Surtogate Geek, or Lawful Good to the core Paladin Padawan with a personal grudge, and may be descended from a family line, maybe not, but currently most likely a Skywalker by blood. Story and other character arcs change dramatically depending on which route chosen.

Finn: Stoic soldier man learns power of friendship, finds meaning of life, causes Stormtrooper mutiny, probably becomes a Jedi and second main character and hooks up with Rey. “What‘s a joke?”. Awkward dork and stunted socially but doing his best. May instinctively find it hard to disobey orders. He may be the one wanting to find his family; but that’s dropped soon enough to focus on what’s ahead. 

(Alternatively: Proud warrior guy who acts like a stereotypical North Korean soldier who finds himself outside the First Order, learns power of friendship etc. The rest is the same)

Poe Dameron: What we Japanese people call The Aniki. The funny charismatic ace pilot who keeps everyone sane, overall bro. Wholesome but a bit rough, that guy you would want to share a beer with. But within that easygoing nature burns a hotblooded, determined, dutiful streak, and an even stronger snarky streak. The one with the social skills. Loves his droid like his son though Cynical!Rey and Finn find that initially kind of stupid/strange. 

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo: Appears to be yet another quietly imposing Star Wars villain with added edgelord factor, but actually a mentally unstable, borderline yandere berserker of a man crushed under the weight of a legacy, with a horrifying inferiority complex, identity issues, and an unhealthy obsession with familial honor, constantly stuck between Dark and Light. Despite his high rank, basically the First Order’s attack dog. Usually has the emotional maturity of a 16-year-old, if not younger. If anyone is, he’s the damsel in distress of this story.

Luke Skywalker: Cuddly sunshine headmaster sage doing his best, has been on many adventures before that are hidden ads to future Lucasfilm projects. May have gone to search for answers as to what is causing recent events, or is still present at the beginning. May survive at the end. He could be anywhere from kind of jaded but at his core still that sweet optimist, to Basically Uncle Iroh, to can-literally-summon-Porgs-by-whistling/Space Sage Mr. Rogers.

Han Solo: General of the Republic Armed Forces or courier who decided military life just wasn’t for him and now delivers important messages through still unstable areas of the New Republic, a war hero, and a dad doing his best. Wants to hold hope but may have at least outwardly given up on Ben, with Poe filling in the void. Has gone clean from his life of crime and still married 30+ years strong with Leia. He would be the one who is the closest to Poe if he’s still in the military and Leia is a Jedi, with Poe being seen as his likely successor. He might die at the end of 8? Maybe Hamill and Carrie would somehow talk him into sticking around past 7? He might still die in 7?

(Side note: I wish we could have seen Old Harrison Ford in a military casual coat-cape. He would have looked awesome in it. I mean no one would really complain that he plays fast and loose with the dress code if there even is one, he’s Han freakin’ Solo and he gives no f*cks.)

Leia Organa-Solo: Preferably a Jedi Knight, leader while he’s away if he’s away as well as their tactician, or senator considering her personality; maybe have basically what Colin Trevorrow planned for her (I mean… why not just use CGI at this point? They’ve done it before. I’m sure Carrie wouldn’t have wanted her swan song to be such a passive role either), with her bond with Luke being a major factor and us actually being able to see it in practice. May have outwardly given up on her son as well, but still is at the end of the day a mom doing her best. Basically a strong, smart lady like how she’s always been.

Chewbacca: How he always is, but he plays more of a role than basically the guy bussing the cast around, an active combat role definitely. Han’s second in command and maybe fellow dad. Possibly the part-time chaperone of the mess that is the new main duo. Also was Ben’s first friend, and you bet there will be drama here.

Lando Calrissian: Business mogul who probably helps the heroes out, maybe by selling them stuff and using his many connections to get information. And/or he’s basically an economic diplomat for the Republic. Has known Ben since he was a child and may have snuck him on too many joyrides without telling Leia, to her chagrin and Han’s amusement. 

Grand Admiral Armitage Hux: Basically how he was in SW7. Calculating, manipulative, coldhearted, intelligent, and ruthless, the brains to Kylo’s brawn. Son of former Imperial officers, killed his own father to get where he is. Gives no f*cks, except when he goes full ham. Maybe even he goes cold and pale if Kylo starts getting angry, just to show how terrifying he can be, but I also like the idea of him being one of two people who can manipulate Kylo out of a tantrum and not end up a pile of flesh or choked to death. 

Captain Phasma: How she is in supplemental material probably. A walking chrome machine of merciless death. Probably not very talkative, and probably does not take defectors lightly. She may defect at the end or not depending on how truly evil she’s portrayed to be, but I’m thinking she’s likely this cruel disciplinarian who expects complete and utter, machine-like obedience to the end, and Finn flinches at the mere mention of her, though she herself is equally as extremely loyal to the cause.

Snoke: A mysterious being, the likes of which are not of this galaxy. Probably some kind of ancient eldritch abomination who can torment vulnerable minds with an untraceable curse. Not your average Sith, and despite how it may seem it may not be connected to them at all… Or perhaps it is. Or perhaps it itself serves a larger master. It wants to use Kylo Ren for… something. Just what it is is what Luke has been trying to find out for years.

Knights of Ren: Idea borrowed from Thor Skywalker (check him out on YouTube!); possibly a military cult of Sith/Vader worshippers who see Ben as the second coming of Vader, and have aligned themselves with Snoke. Probably basically Kylo’s personal guard and troops. Or possibly directly liked to whatever otherworldly entit(ies?) Snoke is, not being of this galaxy themselves.

Anakin Skywalker: Determined grandpa doing his best for his kids, grandkid(s), and the galaxy. Doesn’t appear often, but plays a major role in the story; maybe he’s the one who led Rey to his lightsaber, and maybe he advises Luke while training Rey, or secretly follows Kylo, trying to speak to him but unable to be seen or heard by him. He’d be the one who ultimately convinces Ben to return to the light, and to, in an echo of the words Ben heard when he was being impersonated, “finish what I started”.

Rose Tico: A probably relatively new, wide-eyed young recruit in the Republic Military, and maybe seeks revenge on First Order for killing or kidnapping her sister. Not sure if she will be needed, but if there’s room for her she might be interesting. Maybe she’s one of Poe’s friends or part of his squad. She could also be the resident girly girl because there aren’t many of those here. 

Vice-Admiral Amberlyn Holdo: She’s in the Aftermath books, and those seem pretty good, so she’s probably how she is there. A quirky mostly background character that is probably at most there for Han and/or Leia and Ackbar to give commands to and salute back, but most importantly she actually does her job properly, even if she’s still a bit of an odd person. Also Poe knows her and they have a way more amicable work relationship. Also give her something which actually looks like something military personnel would wear. She could even be a legitimately good tactician who comes up with off-the-wall tactics.

(Side note: I heard that she basically has the Star Wars version of Autism, and while I’d appreciate that as an Aspie myself, I’ll also have to say that Autistic people would probably be terrible military leaders due to us not being able to adjust to sudden changes well and our bad communication skills. So yeah, sorry, unless she’s recast to something like, say, a mechanic or logistics or medic or any other more Autistic-friendly job, that’s going to have to go)

Maz Kanada: …Admittedly not sure what to do with her. But she’s more likely to be an acquaintance of Lando before Han, if she doesn’t know both. In fact, Lando may be introduced early alongside her. But she would still have the important role of keeping Anakin’s saber; how she has it, either Lando found it, or basically what was cut from TFA showing that she’s indeed pretty awesome. 

BB-8: BB-8 doesn’t have to change. He’s perfect as he is. Maybe what he can do should be more consistent though. Poe and him are basically Ash and Pikachu, they stick together whenever possible. If Rey or Finn need a droid to tag along and Poe isn’t in the party at the moment, R2 is right there. I once read a fanfic in which BB-8 was actually a droid Luke made for Ben and I liked the idea… though it probably would be a bit of an unnecessary detail in practice.

R2-D2 and C3P0: They’re basically business as usual. They would still have that boke-tsukkomi dynamic they had going on, sometimes with the added childlike cuteness of BB-8 in the mix. If there’s any extra time left for comic relief scenes, or if they’re sent on some kind of mission together, I can see these three messing around doing their thing (or rather, BB being childlike, cute and curious, Threepio being overly nervous, and Artoo being too old for this sh*t and/or BB’s cool uncle/older brother) being both cute and hilarious.

Also Worldbuilding stuff will be featured at the bottom

Elaboration on the “big four” of the sequel cast:

Rey: Aged 19, speaks with Daisy Ridley’s normal accent, not RP (I mean really, her accent isn’t that hard to understand). A whole rainbow of possibilities with this lady, though many don’t realize it. I might be leaning towards her being Luke’s daughter, though her being Just Rey may also be interesting, and her still being a descendant of Palpatine or the main villain could also have potential, though if Finn is a Jedi I don’t think there’s any need for her parents to be nobody. But the three main routes I can think of for her are these three: Cynical!Rey, a Rey with a backstory identical to the canon Rey from her abandonment onwards, Fangirl!Rey, a sort of estimation of a dorky female Star Wars nerd in-universe and the most lighthearted start out of the three, and Padawan!Rey, a Rey who is already Luke’s Padawan at his academy. Maybe making her starting point less crushingly bleak and Fangirl!Rey could work, but it might dilute both ideas, and that characterization might be a bit too similar to ANH Luke. 

As is apparent, Cynical!Rey, is, well, cynical. She’s strong and independent, but extremely distrusting, on-edge, and not used to friendly interaction. Think Female SW4 Han Solo but even more antisocial and probably not even bothering with the bravado, and basically with Anakin’s upbringing except she doesn’t even have a loving mother like Anakin did. Fangirl!Rey was my initial idea but I’m starting to become less partial to it because of the aforementioned similarity to ANH Luke, but my idea was she’s basically Harry Potter, living with stepparents who hate her, or she’s still used as basically child labor but her conditions are nowhere near as bad as Cynical Rey’s, and she would have grown up on stories about the Rebels and the Jedi and everything else in the past movies, collecting every single bit of memorabilia she can get her hands on. If one wants to go for very lighthearted and slightly meta for SW7 this is the route. Padawan!Rey could go anywhere, but I’m thinking she would basically be our D&D Paladin; ever since Ben Solo went berserk and ran off to join the First Order, she’s become very protective of her fellow students and has a really understandable personal grudge against him. She might be the strongest pupil left after the Second Jedi Massacre, and by the end maybe she becomes the successor to headmaster of the academy. It is possible that she was found abandoned on Jakku or Luke’s doorstep, however, so the theme of growing up lonely is there, and because being a Jedi is what has given her meaning in life it means a lot to her. But while I don’t want her parentage to be revealed early if it is Luke, it does raise the massive plot hole of why this was never disclosed to her or to Ben. 

And yes, I did say fellow students and academy. Wiping the new Jedi Order feels really cheap and it makes the whole hopeful Jedi Starting Anew implication that I’m 90% sure the OT ended on feel very pointless. I’d prefer them still being there, though their inclusion would be obviously way more natural in the Padawan Route. This also has tons of marketing potential for Disney, because I wanted to take IRL realism into account; what’s in it for Disney? Maybe potential to expand on other students and Luke’s academy? It could be like a smaller Jedi Hogwarts/Xavier Institute basically. Though the survivors wouldn’t be too numerous; just, like, four at most. Maybe there would be elements of an Avengers/Infinity War/Endgame-esque team movie, even if the rest are a bit out of focus.

I did think maybe the heroes would still go to Ahch-To after SW7 where Luke would have been hiding with his students researching the new threat, but maybe I could have him stay and sort of take a few cues from Harry Potter by introducing the heroes to the world of the Jedi early and giving them a break in the action as they settle in their new homes, so there’s more time to develop the padawan side characters, what the academy is like, and Luke gets to appear in SW7 as well so there can be a OT trio “reunion” (not a reunion in-universe). Though that kind of messes with other parts I want to include like Rey and Finn having to take on Kylo and getting completely whipped because he’s a rampaging madman before having to be saved by Luke. Also Rey getting kidnapped has potential for developing her trust in others, and her and Finn getting a breather moment at the Republic after the heroes and Han regroup would kind of remove a point where that could be easily slotted in the story. It would also require everything before this to be crammed in the first act. 

(Newer edit 5/27/21)  I also like her getting a golden double-bladed saber like many fans depict her. It’s not only awesome looking (because she only gets her own saber at the end of TROS… Why?), but it’s more toys for the moichendise! It fits her starting with a staff, it has more reach, and it would fit Cynical Rey especially for her to have a style centered around keeping as much of herself defended as possible. Watching Battlefront 2 footage has made me think about fighting styles a bit, and if she and Finn are a duo how their styles of combat might compliment each other, especially as their relationship develops (coincidentally she and Finn apparently are a very good combination in BF2). A Cynical Rey would probably contrast the most, with a fighting style based on keeping enemies away, trickery, and defense (a good choice for a blade made of light), maybe a bit wild at first but initially her goal in fighting would be to hold out until there is an opening to get the hell out, only staying to fight if she has no other option. Fangirl Rey wouldn’t really have a fighting style initially, and it’s gonna be very dependent on where her arc goes. Padawan Rey would have the most Prequel Jedi-esque, choreographed style, showing a lot of skill though not quite mastering it and with tons of openings at first. A Cynical Rey may have an uncanny skill to detect suspicious people, which would make her trusting the heroes easier, and though this ability isn’t super strong and is more “a slight gut feeling but it could be nothing” than “human lie detector” it could maybe be honed more. And while not quite wall vision like in BF2 (because wat? Where do they come up with this stuff?), maybe she’s good at detecting people’s presences too. These are very apt ambient skills for someone in her position. Meanwhile, Fangirl!Rey would have probably suspected she had the Force already, and her ambient abilities could be whatever, just rather passive abilities unless trained. 

If she is Luke’s daughter though, that would open up the can of worms of who her mother is. Just making it so that she died before the events of SW7 might seem a bit… unfortunate? I kind of want Luke to have found love sometime (and seriously with how much of a bombshell young Luke was, in addition to him being such a hero, I’m shocked that he never got one. I can see why Mara Jade wanted a piece of that. *wolf whistle*), but then I’d have to figure out how to incorporate her in this already character-dense story without her having cheaply died offscreen. I might be able to think of something? I could always go digging in the dusty pile of old fan theories, I might find something good. Thor Skywalker did hint at her but his story stopped at the end of where SW8 would have. If I do name her Mara there’s probably going to be extra pressure to do something with her. …But I can’t be the only one who thinks that Daisy Ridley kind of looks like Natalie Portman. Then again I’m pretty face-blind. I guess blond hair and blue eye color genes are also recessive traits for Star Wars humans. Though it seems the height genes skipped a generation because she’s actually pretty tall for a woman at 170 cm - I’m sorry what. That’s as tall as the average Japanese man! Holy sh*t Daisy! She only looks a bit small because she’s often depicted with Kylo and Kylo makes everyone not Phasma look diminutive. I guess Ben would get it from Anakin and Han (though he’s still taller than both of them…), so maybe a taller actress would be cast as Mara (?). And despite Rey’s malnourishment in the Cynical route, this actually isn’t that implausible, because stunted growth apparently only happens if children are deprived from gestation to about 2 years of age. 

And again, why wouldn’t Ben know about this? But if this isn’t the Padawan!Rey route (the hardest to incorporate Rey The Actual Skywalker into), maybe Ben took Rey’s assumed death as even more of a reason to burden himself with the entire Skywalker legacy? This would give him a reason to already care about her.

Further edits: According to the Aftermath books, Jakku was a “Lightside Nexus” planet. Maybe this has to do with her powers? (Perhaps she was kept sane by the Force speaking to her on occasion, in dreams or as she lies staring at the ceiling after a long day, showing her the loving life she used to live and unknown to her she will return to someday). Or why she was dropped there? Maybe she was supposed to be living with Lor San Tekka (the old guy Kylo kills at the beginning of TFA), but got lost one day or was kidnapped by bandits to be a scavenger because her small size would have been perfect for getting loot from small spaces? Why not take her back then? This probably is one of the biggest plot knots in the Cynical Rey Skywalker route, alongside who her mother is.  

Small detail lightning round before moving on: I once read a Japanese fic, and in it she mentioned she hates alcohol because she saw how it turned people into monsters. I actually kind of liked this headcanon, and maybe a bit unexpected. Though there’s also the route of her just being too used to it, setting her apart from previous more wholesome protagonists even more.  Also Daisy would have to start hitting the gym and protein shakes because I think her character design evolving from her thin build to a very athletic, Wonder Woman-esque body type would be pretty good in representing her growth as a character, and combined with her height she would be so very badass looking. 

Finn: Probably around 23? Infamous for lost potential, so his backstory is the same. However, I’m thinking that due to his dehumanizing upbringing, he’s a bit robotic and pretty stoic initially, a total opposite to Poe. He doesn’t understand jokes or sarcasm, and now that he’s completely left the life he’s always known, he feels pretty lost. He would basically act like a male Rei Ayanami, though I was going more for Drax at first. Alternatively, he’s a proud warrior type, imagine a stereotypical North Korean/Prussian soldier. He’d be a bit more emotional and probably less cartoonish here (I mean I have compared Star Wars to anime but full-on anime tropes in live action probably looks super corny), and he’s a massive hardass who also doesn’t get sarcasm or jokes and fanatical and would have thought of his fellow soldiers as a collective as his band of brothers and comrades, collectively serving the FO like a smoothly running machine. My initial thought was that after a life of war crimes and the influence a certain pilot whose cell he was guarding who gave him his name, and maybe witnessing the death of a comrade, he had defected from the FO, but I started thinking it would be plausible if he defected from the FO probably by accident. Highly likely to be the second protagonist, if not POV character, and if so I think it’s logical that it’s Finnrey that becomes the canon ship here. In the Padawan!Rey route, he’s the newcomer protagonist, not Rey. If they’re shipped, or even as friends, they may bond over their dehumanizing, harsh backgrounds and the feeling of being lost in the world. Also he likely starts a mutiny. Like it was such an obvious plot point but they never use it for some bizarre reason. It’s like the DM didn’t read his character sheet at all. Actually one didn’t and the other kept forgetting it in the third campaign.

There’s two ways I think his arc could go; first would be a focus mainly on his search for identity and becoming his own person. Second, his guilt about having done the First Order’s bidding for so long. Probably a combination of the two, though I’m not sure how to address them both. He also wants to see his colleagues free from slavery. But I am sure about I’d that he’d have to overcome his conditioning, learning to regain his humanity.

Especially if Rey is a Skywalker and he becomes a Jedi, he’d be the one who the movie makes a point about being from nowhere. He has no idea who his parents are, but it would not even matter in the end, it’s what he makes of his life from here on out. And if he and Rey end up together, which is extremely likely in this scenario, he not only finds his family in the figurative sense with the other Jedi and his new friends plus girlfriend, but in the literal sense as well, going from nameless Stormtrooper FN-2187, to just Finn the ex-Stormtrooper, to Finn the Padawan and then Jedi Knight, to finally, Finn Skywalker, Jedi Knight; maybe the last movie ends with one of them proposing to the other, with SW8 having previously ended with the climactic big damn kiss that cemented that they are a thing now. (Cue Luke jokingly asking when he’s getting grandchildren and How It Should Have Ended!Anakin squeeing over him getting great-grandchildren lol) His name would have this real symbolic value to it with how it changes as he goes from nobody to somebody. Not to mention “Finn Skywalker” is just a freakin’ awesome name. If they make up the leading duo, he and Rey may have some kind of inherent connection, or they progress into two parts of the same whole, even attaining something like a Dyad.

I thought an interesting thing to do if Rey is a Skywalker, and this is Cynical Rey, is a twist on the expected pattern by making him the one who sees the good in Kylo, not Rey. Because while Rey might be his cousin, she’s also a very distrustful person who couldn’t afford to think deeply about people act the way they do when she was growing up and fighting to survive. Meanwhile, Finn knows Kylo, and he also knows what it’s like to be determined to be a killing machine from a very young age, and if he has to forgive himself, or if he’s able to see the light, that Kylo deserves a chance as well. It would be the ultimate show of kindness from him, to show him forgiving the man who works so loyally under the same organization that enslaved him. I can also see Kylo being angry at himself for being unable to sense the Force-Sensitive in their midst. 

Maybe he was born on a “Lightside nexus” planet too so that it makes sense that he can keep up with other characters? Presuming he’s in his early 20s, I don’t think him being raised by the Order since he was a baby is that plausible, so maybe he was already an orphan? I can see the First Order spinning their Stormtrooper program kidnapping street orphans as “rehabilitating” them, which combined with good old Victorian style citizen apathy to street children allows them to get away with it. But if he was, say, around 6 years old when he was taken away, it would make sense why he was able to break out of his programming. Perhaps Poe showing him friendship awoke the humanity long dormant in him. But on the other hand, the younger, adolescent soldiers may be beyond saving, and I can see that being absolutely heartbreaking. 

I can see his fighting style with a saber being direct, forceful, and pragmatic, but unlike Rey the emphasis would be on engaging and keeping up the fight, and be very disciplined, calculated, and controlled in contrast to Cynical Rey. At least he’d attempt it while he gets used to the properties of a lightsaber, before there would probably be a lot of awkwardness as John is directed to swing this weightless prop blade with a weighted hilt like he would a club or sword. If he isn’t a Force Sensitive, he’s a good sniper just like in BF2, in fact this would be his primary combat ability, though still able to hold his own in melee combat. Though even as a Jedi he’d probably still use a gun as a sidearm, and his good aim would also translate to him being very good at spotting openings and spotting danger from a distance, as well as enhanced ability to dodge. 

Poe Dameron: Age 29 (?). A total bro. I’ve kind of come to think of him as this embodiment of the good, wholesome side of traditional masculinity. I can best describe him as the guy you expect to think of when you think of the guy who takes the boys to the bar for beers on the house and hosts Super Bowl night (for the Americans out there). Basically just that big bro/cool uncle everyone likes. I think he’s the least changed from how he is in SW7; he’s a laid-back pilot with no special powers, and while he’s probably the most static and admittedly flat character (and unfortunately more minor than the other two) he has tons of charisma and optimism to compensate, though being the one who keeps everyone sane definitely helps. Not to mention his piloting skills; which, note, are never eclipsed by Rey, because that’s dumb. His skills are a bit more downplayed here, but he’s still extremely good, especially for his age. Despite being the pilot he’s the most down-to-earth, and may be the only one of the big four with any social skills, even if he’s a bit dorky, especially regarding BB-8. 

Son of Rebel pilots, graduated top of his class in the Republic Flight Academy, and his background is squeaky clean, no drug trading involved, though he spent a lot of his adolescence and his adulthood in the Academy or in the military, just like in pre-TROS supplementary material. He’s the main source of jokes and wisecracks out of the trio in all but the most dorky of Fangirl!Rey routes probably, teaching Cynical!Rey and Finn what it’s like to smile and laugh. He still has a close relationship with Leia and Han; possibly closer to the latter due to the latter being a pilot and likely still a General. Not sure about him keeping his rank because him starting and staying at the top might mesh awkwardly with the rest of the trio, but maybe he’s still a Commander; whichever makes his inclusion in the main cast most plausible. Due to an adorable Pixiv comic I found he may have been inspired to become a pilot by Luke or Han. I’d like to think that he breaks the hotshot pilot cliché a bit by not being too overly arrogant, immediately setting himself apart from Han by being a wholesome guy there for his buddies from the start, even if he is fond of wisecracking and snarkiness (probably from hanging around Han and Leia), and inside that laid-back personality lies a hotblooded, passionate, unwavering core. Like, he’s not exactly hotheaded like a Latin stereotype (*ahem*), but he’s got this more subtle, but still apparent, underlying fiery hotbloodedness to him, something that especially makes itself apparent in high-stress situations and when it comes to his loved ones. He’d also be Rey and Finn’s mentor of sorts in stuff that doesn’t involve the Force, being their role model for what a functional member of society is. He may make some self-depreciating jokes about being “normal”, but I think mostly he’ll take it in stride. Though I can see him and Han having a chat about this in a more quiet scene. 

Ironically, out of the trio he could maybe be said to be the most suited to be a Jedi personality-wise, despite the fact that he has no Force Sensitivity whatsoever; he goes with the flow, he isn’t troubled, he’s happy with the simple pleasures in life, he’s just a good, genuine guy who does good things, passionate but not obsessive, and he’s forgiving, willing to give even an enemy soldier a chance, appealing to the humanity in him. The last one is particularly Luke-like, don’t you think? Oh, to elaborate on the escape; I still like the idea of him giving Finn his name (though another idea I love is a fallen friend giving Finn his name, that would change stuff around a lot from what I am thinking at this moment). I also think that perhaps supplemental material or some flashbacks, or even an animated short could be made showing just how Poe broke Finn’s programming; by showing him genuine kindness, because somehow, despite his lack of Force Sensitivity, he saw that FN-2187 could be talked out of his programming if he was constantly nice to him, befriending him, starting up casual chatter with him, and after a while the trooper starts opening up to this pilot. …Yeah, Luke-like indeed. Though since there is the plot hole of why Finn could be convinced in mere days and why he’s the only one guarding such a high-profile prisoner, a more realistic idea may be that they talk to each other this way a few times, then Poe escapes and Finn goes after him before they both crash on Jakku and have to work together, with Poe immediately being friendly with Finn and later Rey, to his (and her) confusion. (I can just imagine Poe being all chipper and trying to engage Finn in conversation, or telling him “Good job, sport!” after they fight off bandits or something, and Finn just is all deadpan and “We are enemies, we have no reason to fraternize” and I find that kind of cute).

He may ultimately be the most static of the main cast, but I can see him having a huge impact in more subtle ways; like maybe Rey and Finn think of what Poe might do in a given situation in their training, and he could be the catalyst behind why Finn thinks that Kylo can be redeemed, just like how Poe was able to light another way when it felt like there was only one path for him. He also definitely wouldn’t be the type to be so reckless with his men like he was in TLJ, if he’s still a Commander; he cares about his men a lot, and in fact they may be the reason why he tends to act like an older brother. I can imagine a pretty poignant scene with Finn where Finn sees Poe by himself and BB-8 paying respects to his fallen comrades by this handmade cenotaph, as he sets some flowers down and pours a drink to them, and Finn once again is able to see how different the culture outside the First Order is, as he would have never been mourned like that if he died on the battlefield, nor can he imagine he ever would have done so himself. Or maybe Rey is there too, because if this is Cynical Rey she’s only known a life where people exploited each other. Maybe other characters like Jessika (who he’s already close to I think? Did she show up in the movies though?) or Rose would have the opportunity to be more than background characters by being part of his crew, and we’d get some charming scenes about the bond he has with his squadron.

Again, admittedly he’d be the least deep character out of the big four, with his feelings not being explored nearly as much. But he probably doesn’t really hide his feelings much anyway. For any supplementary shorts involving him, they would be mainly lighter stories about his relationship with the OT cast and their families and his friendship with BB-8 and his crew, or action-y ones about missions he’s gone on; as opposed to, say, Finn, which would show his life as an expendable trooper who knew nothing but war, Cynical!Rey and her crushing loneliness and growing disillusionment to the world as she struggles to survive, or Padawan!Rey and her anguish and grappling with the Dark Side in the aftermath of the Jedi Massacre. 

I can also imagine him being this adorable Shipper On Deck for Finnrey lol. Just looking at his two friends, all proud, maybe even tearing up like “*sniff* I’m not crying Buddy, you’re crying!” when the inevitable big kiss scene happens. I can also imagine him being the one to tell Finn that “Hey Finn, what you’re feeling is love!”…And then he has to spend hours trying to explain what love even is to him lol. He always has his friends’ back after all. Again, he’s most likely the one guy who isn’t completely socially inept among these dorks. I’ve also had the potential idea that he could maybe be a good cook, and he’d be the one who introduces Rey and Finn to actually good food. Some fics I’ve noticed tend to show him cooking stuff probably for that reason. It’s just kind of cute, and it sets a good example if despite his traditionally masculine, salt-of-the-earth character, he likes some less “manly” stuff like such and sees no shame in it.

He may sacrifice himself in a blaze of glory towards the end, especially because quite frankly he may lose his plot relevance as the story goes on, though it would definitely be way more respectful than a lot of deaths were treated in the sequels. But I also want him to stick around because I want to imagine him being all proud of Rey and Finn after they propose to each other and giddily planning their wedding, and I feel he could have some very good interactions with Ben to build on for any spinoffs taking place after the trilogy. Speaking of…

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo: AKA Yet Another Ball Of Lost Potential: Anti-Villain Addition. This is gonna be a doozy, so strap in. He was probably the most developed character here but that just makes his lost potential stick out even more, so I have so much to say about him.

About 27 probably. While people complain about it, I actually like him being a manchild. It makes him a bit unique in this series. It’s kind of like Vader if he didn’t get stuck in that suit and kept acting like Anakin. In fact, that could make him even more terrifying if that feeds into how destructive he can be; at first he seems like your typical intimidating SW villain, not even that bad a leader with a seemingly calm if tense, imposing air, but it eventually becomes clear he’s this terrifying, volatile berserker who can throw some of the most destructive tantrums ever, and is ultimately a pathetic, broken, pitiful shell of a man. …He just happens to be a very powerful shell of a man. Maybe if he becomes emotional or angry enough, he can unleash powerful shockwaves that basically blow up everything around him, or cause mini Force Storms, or cause any number of unpredictable effects. Though he’s not quite constantly raging either; these berserk states are indeed triggered by anger, but I’m thinking that they are also basically weaponized panic attacks, there’s a sense that it’s also a self-defense mechanism that he lapses into when emotions overwhelm him or when he otherwise feels threatened (though whether it’s necessarily involuntary all the time I’m not so sure; but while he’d definitely want to be able to trigger them voluntarily, there will always be some sense that he doesn’t have full control over it). Also a lot of his rage is directed inwards as well, much like with his grandfather. I thought that maybe his unpredictability in these rages would be the key to his destructiveness, though I can see how someone who is out of control would also pose a problem, no matter how powerful; so maybe this is when he becomes the most focused, becoming locked onto the elimination of the perceived threat at all costs, and/or he can be controlled by his Master more directly like some kind of attack animal. 

Luke’s first padawan, or at least after Leia or Grogu (I might make him show up as Luke’s first knighted pupil and allude to this, providing more exposition on Kylo, and being one of the Jedi who help fight in the final battle as the Skywalkers go on to take on the final boss (and Grogu’s name being revealed would be a massive hype moment in The Mandalorian)). Due to his storied family, plus the name of his uncle and grandfather’s own master, he had heavy expectations on his (at the time) small shoulders from an early age. However, he had long been tormented by the Dark Side due to an untraceable curse placed upon him by Snoke, and probably a pre-existing anxious personality. The expectations placed on him, or maybe perhaps just self-imposed expectations, only worsened his turmoil, resulting in a festering mess of self-hatred, extreme perfectionism, and an obsession with familial honor and obsessive attachment to his family, especially Luke, that is a nasty combination of hero-worship and the abovementioned complexes and may border on almost incestuous.

There’s three ways for his backstory to go; “Underachiever Ben”, where Ben is either mediocre as a Jedi or still good but outperformed by others, or “Elsa Ben”, where he’s basically like Elsa from Frozen, possessing an extreme amount of power but barely able to control it, possibly due to Snoke’s curse, and a sort of middle ground, where Ben was super strong and a quick learner, but the dark side in him made Luke feel mixed about Ben’s increasing power, which Ben sensed. If the former, Ben becomes increasingly frustrated at himself for being such a “failure”. If “Elsa Ben”, there’s that, and also the added pain of him growing up terrified of himself and able to sense the terror he causes to those around him, so he was taken in by Luke so hopefully Luke could figure something out; he could have been destructive from the start, or maybe he started to become increasingly destructive despite his training. If the middle ground route, he takes Luke’s mixed emotions to mean that he doesn’t think he’s good enough. How severe Snoke’s curse would have been I’m not fully sure on; he could have voices in his head and nightmares keeping him up for days, chipping away at his sanity, tempting him to accept the darkness, or it may have just been an amplifying of his already unstable emotions. They could have even started as the latter and escalated to the former. But I’m thinking that to best explain his behavior I’m leaning towards the Elsa route. Eventually, his nightmares morphed into repeated visits by Darth Vader, his grandfather, who told him about the truth of his lineage and how he became Vader, slandering everything and everyone he ever admired or loved, telling him of his “true” destiny, and how he should give up and embrace it; unable to hear the real Anakin’s ghost screaming at him to not repeat his mistake. This extended campaign of mental torment stunted his emotional growth in many aspects, and at times he may seem to regress even more. Maybe other padawans were afraid of him because of this dark side presence, avoiding him, and/or were jealous of him because of his lineage and relation to Luke. He often felt entitled to be Luke’s right hand, getting jealous at other students and taking any reprimanding, no matter how gentle, extremely personally. Luke would have needed to struggle between not seeming to be biased towards his nephew and giving him the attention he needed, especially because Ben would feel like Han and Leia abandoned him because they weren’t able to help him, but considering how attached he is to Luke this would hurt him. So when Luke went to speak to him one night, or rushed in sensing an overwhelming dark side presence in his room, and was suddenly attacked by Snoke with a vision of what his nephew would become and making him go into fighting mode for a split second, drawing his weapon to protect Ben, and/or earlier admitted in anguish that he had no idea what was tormenting him despite his efforts, the straw broke the pedestal and he resigned himself to his “destiny”. Ironically he’s just exchanging one sky-high ideal for another, but he’s too emotionally immature to realize this, nor does he fully realize the fact that Snoke merely sees him as a malleable, gullible means to an end. Yet he still feels that pesky pull to the light, and he becomes increasingly frustrated with himself that even as a Dark side user, he still can’t be “perfect” or “worth” anything, not even able to sink himself into the darkness and finally rid himself of his pain. For all the privilege and power he has, or because of it, he always feels worthless. 

Basically I want to break him down and make his pitifulness obvious, but that’s what makes him sympathetic. He’s nowhere as far gone as Vader, even if he wants to be, kind of like a reverse Jekyll and Hyde situation where the Hyde is dominant but Jekyll hangs on, so to speak? Maybe? Is that the right analogy? Or I guess it is kind of like Anakin but sort of not, but he’s rapidly going down the same route of hurting his family like his grandfather. 

From researching a bit, his proposed behavior seems pretty close to the symptoms of BPD, which is actually pretty fitting because I was thinking Luke’s philosophy on the Force would be influenced by a more modern understanding of psychology, and Dialectical Behavior Therapy actually seems pretty in tune with what I understand to be how the Light Side of the Force works (I mean it even has basis in religious meditation…). Perhaps a mystical version of DBT was one of the things Luke was studying in exile. Though obviously it isn’t exactly BPD; portraying an actual, named mental illness not only has way too much baggage behind it, but it breaks immersion. And with him a lot of it will be the influence of the curse, though I think I would rather him have a personality that made him vulnerable to it from the start, so the curse had something to latch onto. 

Going with the “Elsa Ben” scenario, his “real” personality is anxious and even a bit shy. While I like the idea of him being cheerful when he was very little, the shyness always being there is also a characterization I like. Combined with his lumbering physique from his teenage years onwards, this made him a kid who gave off an impression of being extremely dorky (an act that would probably be very natural for Adam Driver to pull off lol) and/or withdrawn and aloof, the latter of which may have made some other padawans think he thought highly of himself and start to resent him. Unlike Anakin he’d be probably a dutiful student, almost creepily obedient, probably actively distancing himself from rebellious behavior, though his way of speaking isn’t exactly super formal either because of the influence of the adults around him. In his obsessions lies a genuine love, even if twisted, of his “favorite person” so to speak. He was also a genuinely sweet kid who wanted to please these special people in his life. He could be said to be actually really selfless in a weird way, because ultimately he values familial honor and being “good enough” for whatever higher purpose more than he values himself. TROS implied some sassiness with that Han-like shrug, and while I can maybe see some of Han rubbing off on him like that, that might be something that started from him trying to copy his parents’ air of confidence, and another coping mechanism. He might, like Vader, have a 501st legion 2.0 which Phasma is in charge of and Finn is part of, and show a more nicer side to them. Perhaps he opened up one or two times to Finn specifically; I can see this image of him venting to him while Finn stands still like how someone might vent to their dog, not really expecting Finn to be listening (also sarcasm might help Kylo obscure his true anguish from Finn, because FO troopers don’t understand sarcasm probably).  

He will be redeemed at the end… and live. Even if not necessarily paired with Rey. I’m neutral on Reylo (though admittedly I have a weak spot for pairs involving a strong woman and a troubled guy, so it’s kind of growing on me), but I really think this ship, or even centering the story strongly around a platonic relationship between these two, could have worked if it was built up strongly (Though if I were to go this route Finn would have to be established as a secondary character from the start, with Rey as the definitive main character, to focus on this). But either way, he’s definitely going to have to face the consequences of what he’s done, make up for his atrocities at least somewhat, and think about what he truly wants to do from now on. I can imagine him quietly reading stories to younglings as Rey, Finn, and Luke train some other pupils outside, or thanklessly working behind the scenes in other ways. For his haters out there, I could make the pill easier to swallow not just by making the reasons for his fall and how he was slowly and meticulously gaslit more clear, but also making him not as awful. Yes, he’s extremely destructive, but he could show more reluctance, or pause after his berserker rages, staring at the destruction he’s caused as the weight of what he’s done sinks in. He’d of course resent that he still has mercy left in him though. I don’t think that there will be a Starkiller Base, but even if there was he might argue with Hux a bit over whether it’s really necessary, until Hux sneers at him for having mercy, saying that Vader never hesitated when blowing up Alderaan, and Kylo reluctantly backs off.

…Actually, what about making him and Rey cousins? On one hand, if Rey is a Skywalker by blood, a direct daughter of the Master himself no less, Ben is now suddenly freed from carrying the weight of the family legacy on his own. On the other hand… He basically loses the thing he has spent his entire life building his identity around; since his fall would have partially been because of his obsession with Luke, he may become jealous and extremely resentful of her, and/or take this as even more reason for Luke to not “need” him anymore. Or perhaps, he pulls a reverse of “I sense the conflict in you” with her, wanting to “save” her from embracing the Light and wanting her to embrace the “true” Skywalker destiny with him. He could even be overjoyed that he could have someone else alongside him to carry on the legacy with; in this scenario he could have an unhealthy obsession with her that might also start crossing into “are you sure this isn’t incest?” territory. Yeah it’s a “join me and we can rule together” scenario again, but it would be done differently. Or perhaps it’s a mix of some of those. Exploring that and how he chooses to take it could be extremely interesting. Maybe it’s resolved when Anakin tells him to “finish what he started”… not just by saving the galaxy, but by also living the rest of his life loving his family not as an ideal, but as family, like Anakin wasn’t allowed to. And platonic Reylo sounds nice too. Though that’s going to make all that shipping fanart so awkward lol. Well it’s not as if Star Wars shippers haven’t been cockblocked by incest before (though his obsession with family and extremely questionable mental state would probably make such shippers go nuts anyway…). 

And going off of Poe being close to his parents, while the main interactions with Kylo from the heroes would be Rey, Finn if he’s the second protagonist, Luke, and his parents, I can see potential for an interesting dynamic and some interesting conversations between them too. Much like how he might react to Rey being Luke’s daughter, I can see him being jealous of Poe and resenting him for being his “replacement”, but after his redemption I can see potential for seeing the start of a friendship between them in epilogue comics, novels, or a mini-series. It would be pretty in-character for my version of Poe to want to help rehabilitate his sort-of stepbrother. Also I now have the adorable mental image of Ben quietly helping Poe (and maybe the rest of his squad) decorate and arrange Rey and Finn’s wedding, or the two surprising Finn with a very elaborate bachelor party, though I’m not sure if those exist in this universe. And because of a certain Inside Llewyn Davis scene I’m also imagining Poe getting Ben to sing with him and BB-8. It’s adorable. 

Also if both Rey and Finn are the main heroes, he might have some kind of link with both of them, and the main duo would both contrast him in their own way (lonely scavenger who no one expected anything of and nameless trooper who defected from the First Order vs. someone who grew up in greatness but seemingly threw it away and chose to be in the First Order; and much like Kylo Finn in particular has been manipulated from childhood to do heinous things, so he may sympathize with his situation). Maybe he’s the missing piece needed for both him and the leading duo to reach their full potential, or the main duo are the last piece needed to finally break Snoke’s curse on him, or something. Or it could simply just be Finn showing his growth and strength of character by understanding and forgiving Kylo, despite him now understanding just how badly the First Order treated him, which makes Rey (who, again, might start as this super cynical scavenger or may have seen Kylo go berserk and massacre her friends and betray her Master) come around to the idea. In this scenario it may actually be even more important to emphasize that Rey and Finn are two making up a whole, so as not to bog stuff down. It’s possible to ship Finnrey and want Kylo to have a better ending, what a shock! 

Maybe Rey and Kylo could switch places, and he comes back to the light in SW8, which is an idea I’ve seen floated and is something that would make the story truly unique. He would seem like basically a less stable Vader 2.0 at the start, but over SW8 he could be seen breaking more and more out of his own terrible mindset, coming to a head in a cathartic realization that bring him back into the arms of his beloved family. It would also add an interesting dynamic that he and Finn have to be equals now. But that may mean that Rey would have to be killed off and I’m not so sure about that. 

Though speaking of her, since in all these scenarios a common thread is that she understandably doesn’t like him, it would be a bit of a twist if Finn sees the good in him but Rey, if she’s a Skywalker, his cousin, doesn’t. 

And to bring up Poe again, I also really like the idea of them having been childhood friends and thus knowing each other before the events of SW7; after all, they’re around similar age, it isn’t that far-fetched to think that former Rebel families would be still pretty close to each other, and I’ve seen some adorable fanfics with the concept. It also adds connection between them and adds even more tragedy, even if this relationship may have to be elaborated more in supplementary material due to time. I can definitely Poe speaking like an old friend to Kylo and constantly calling him “Ben”, to his irritation. The abovementioned feeling of being replaced could be what caused Ben to suddenly break off the friendship. And making the main cast kind of tight-knit like this might also help make the cast easier to manage. 

Granted, there is the possibility of killing him off, though. I heard that one of the initial ideas for TFA was apparently that Kylo would be a reverse Vader, falling deeper and deeper into the Dark Side as the trilogy goes on. In fact, this may have been where Kylo killing Han may have been leading to. This actually sounded like a super cool idea, but considering the backstory I laid out I thought it would be way too bittersweet for the concluding movie of the saga, and if one were to say Kylo basically has BPD… That might lead to some unfortunate implications. I mean nothing is stopping me from not using the Elsa backstory, and if I didn’t use it maybe this route would be pretty viable, but I’m kind of starting to get attached to it. 

—

Other characters:

Hux: I’ve never really been a villain person. I mean I liked sympathetic villains, yeah (but even then I preferred anti-heroes for a while; I’m talking like nothing beyond N from Pokémon levels of “evil”), but straight-up villains I just have merely seen as obstacles. Like back in my Smash fic days I was often like “Eh… They’re there… Because they want to take over the world I guess?”. It’s why I’m having trouble with Snoke probably lol. But for some reason Hux interests me. If I take a guess it’s probably because of the potential he had as an actual foil to Kylo in his own faction. He had so much potential as a villain, and in having this tense dynamic play out. In fact he does seem to have been set up that way in SW7. But yeah, I imagine him as one coldhearted bastard. His backstory, though not elaborated on in the movies, would be much like TFA supplementary material set him up; he’d still have killed his father, but while yes, Brendol was abusive and strict, Armitage didn’t kill him completely because he was a young man who wanted to break free from his strict father, but also genuinely because he knew doing so would be good for his standing. Unlike Kylo when he (most likely) kills Han, he doesn’t regret killing Brendol at all. While he might have a tragic backstory kind of explaining his behavior, it doesn’t bother him at all, while Kylo, who considering what happened to him and how he’s literally under a curse you’d think would have a much steeper fall into unabashed evil, is constantly conflicted. It’s a very Sith Lord-like backstory funnily enough… In fact I’m pretty sure that Palpatine had a backstory very similar to this with his parents.  

He’s a very logical, analytical, brutally pragmatic person, and he looks upon Kylo’s emotional state with condescension. I’m increasingly starting to like the idea that he’s somehow able to talk Kylo down, while still being hardly nice. Perhaps he preys upon Kylo’s constant need for approval from others, even if he doesn’t like the person in question (this may also be why Kylo reacts so strongly to Finn escaping as well, in fact. He genuinely cares about people’s loyalty, even from literal no-name soldiers). Though I can’t decide whether he’s this deceptively charming snake or basically an evil Spock. I also can’t decide between him being in this constant state of “Why do I have to babysit this manchild” or giving absolutely no visible f*cks around Kylo no matter what happens, or even straight-up trolling him often, toying with his emotions because it amuses him; preferably two or a bit of all somehow? I can see him using having met Vader as a child to mock Kylo for how much of a pale, childish imitation he is, or reminding Kylo of how much better he is as a leader objectively; perhaps that’s what he holds over Kylo’s head. Or him explaining to Kylo how he was raised by less than stellar parenting and tried so hard to live up to his strict father too… So he brutally murdered Brendol in cold blood (possibly with Phasma’s help), became a better admiral than he ever was, and got over it “Like an adult. Unlike you.”. They’d be in this constant state of delicate, tense equality; Kylo can easily overpower Hux if he pisses him off a bit too much, but Hux is able to walk that fine edge seemingly without much effort. 

But when he realizes whatever grand cosmic plot he and the entire First Order has been participating in this whole time is when, ironically, there would probably be a really dramatic villainous breakdown from him. It’s kind of a Zuko and Azula situation with Kylo and Hux perhaps? Or is this Hux more a mix of Azula and Zhao’s roles rather?

——

Worldbuilding stuff: Since I’m more a character person, there isn’t much here, but because the worldbuilding was another issue in the movies I’ll also be adding these.

The New Republic isn’t nuked in the first movie. In fact it stays there for the duration of the trilogy and the hero faction is now its armed forces, not The Resistance (Also that name makes no sense. Seriously. At least name them The Peacekeeper Corps or Vigilantes or something, or since they’re basically Leia’s personal military maybe the Organa Free Army or Organa Corps or something of that sort. No wonder people mistakenly call them The Rebels sometimes. It’s a similar setup to Chrom’s Shepherds in Fire Emblem Awakening, albeit with a better relationship with the kingdom; it would be downright strange if the Shepherds called themselves The Resistance despite literally existing with the queen’s permission, and it still is here. Hell, Leia’s Shepherds is a better name). There would be elaboration on the political stuff going on behind the scenes, and if Leia isn’t a Jedi that’s her plotline probably, though a big part of me wants her to be part of the action instead of being stuck on the homeworld. 

Meanwhile, The First Order is made up of Imperial Remnants and people and planets who were unsatisfied with the democratic but still new and fragile New Republic. Basically think White Russians if the Soviets weren’t also awful. It happens a lot in history. While it may have some mining planets in its orbit (not literally, you know what I mean) so it can plausibly refurbish anything Kylo wrecks with his tantrums, Starkiller Base is probably a bit much, and a lot of their equipment might be old Imperial or Rebel stuff, or stolen from the New Republic, with new stuff being produced but not in overly high quantity. Some of the equipment deemed less important might even be kind of crappy due to how old they are. They’d probably be at most an equally powerful faction to the Republic, if not smaller than them, seeming more like a terrorist cell. I don’t have much of an idea why Snoke would want to be involved in it yet though. 

But while the First Order might be smaller, the New Republic is hindered by it just now finally gaining its footing, and the military previously only having been used for peacekeeping and sniping stray Imperial remnants. Because it’s peacetime, it might have been kept pretty small, and also the military academies are literally not even 30 years old at this point, so new that it’s possible Poe, despite his youth, was one of the earliest graduates; one of the military’s most high-ranking officers is literally a scoundrel with no formal training - even if he is good at his job - it isn’t exactly a well-oiled machine, though its less rigid, casual structure also does benefit it in some aspects. Also the FO can easily use Kylo as intimidation, and its upper staff is nothing if not driven and motivated as well as ruthless. They may engage in more underhanded actions like sabotage and suicide bombers, or rely on small elite units like the Knights of Ren or small companies of troopers, to poke holes in the enemy just as much as open combat. And maybe if all else fails Snoke causes something really bad to happen seemingly out of nowhere. 

While I do think that making the baddies an Empire 2.0 is an… uncreative decision, I want to keep Finn’s backstory, plus it fits Kylo’s story too so blah, I kind of have to keep it. Plus I want to do Phasma and Hux justice. Maybe Snoke or whatever it serves turns into a giant Eldritch abomination and have no use for the FO anymore. And again, reactionary forces are a thing that have existed throughout early modern history. But as already mentioned, due to the nature of the First Order’s existence, maybe the Stormtroopers aren’t kidnapped, but they were orphans picked off the streets, and/or some more dedicated Imperial parents gave them their children? I had the idea that Troopers like Finn are “Junior Troopers”, the child slave type, while older members, “Senior Troopers”, would be legit Imperial revanchists and former troopers. Maybe there’s a separate company of Juniors who think they’re cool by fighting for the First Order, but generally Juniors would be the lowest on the social rung, though some might make it into higher positions, and don’t know any other life than what they have now. Though I also like the idea that Finn was part of an elite unit directly connected to Kylo Ren like the 501st, so he has a reason to be particularly hurt by his betrayal (but that could throw a wrench in the whole Finn was a faceless cog in the machine thing). They’re pretty Prussian in command structure; officers work under mission-tactics, but the rank-and-file are machine-like in their discipline, more than even some actual droids. The Republic’s forces also probably engage in mission-tactics a lot, except how far it is acceptable goes way further down the chain of command, so stuff like the Holdo situation doesn’t happen. If that situation were to happen when mission-tactics were to be expected Poe’s independent action would be seen as reasonable. This would have potential for very interesting battles and tactics, though I’d need a lot of help with those because I’m the furthest thing from a tactician you can find (but even I can tell the bomber scene from TLJ was dumb, which should say something).

I kind of realized that it’s possible that the four OT legacy characters may end up basically representing four major aspects of the New Republic; the Jedi (Luke), law and justice (Leia, if she’s a senator), the military (Han, if he’s a general), and economics (Lando). I think some worldbuilding into how the republic functions should be explored through these characters as they move the story forward, except for the Jedi since they’re obviously a central focus, and Luke might very well be introduced after them, and the military will also get focus for obvious reasons, and Poe exists. The information definitely needs to be conveyed as efficiently and organically as possible through the story, because there’s two, likely three, equally important main characters and an unholy amount of secondary characters who aren’t exactly minor. 

May write more later idk. I need to be doing other stuff…

[danger-xylophones]

The Ice General Part 3

{masterlist}

Words: 3270

Warnings: Rex continues to be a dumbass but y’know, this is necessary for progress. Rex might seem kind of OOC but I would like to defend it by saying, this is early-war “Regs” Rex and that I’ve got a plan

Taglist: @tararuthven // @questforgalas // @000ayfh // @pinkiemme

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……………………………………

“I can’t believe you punched him.” A muffled voice filtered into Rex’s foggy mind, cutting through the haze the cool bite of a wintery breeze. 

“What? You were about to yourself!” A different voice lower and less controlled answered back. The owner sounded incredibly offended. 

“Yes but I stopped!” The first voice hissed back. “You can’t just go about bashing peoples’ skulls in whenever you feel like it! What if one of his men saw?”

A scoff followed the question and Rex fought to peel his eyes open. He was on a cot, that much was for certain. Above him was the ‘ceiling’ of a tent and to his left was a roll-away cart that looked to be stocked with all sorts of medical equipment. He was in the med tent. Great. But how the hell had he gotten there? “I will bash in whoever’s skull whenever I feel necessary. He made you uncomfortable, kih’vod, he got what he deserved.” A clone. The second voice belonged to a clone.

A low sigh barely filtered through the heavy tarp material of the tent. Stifling a groan, Rex propped himself up on his elbows. Backlit by firelight and lamps were the outlines of two figures outside the entrance of the tent. The shorter of the two looked a bit strange so Rex had to wager a guess that they had their head in their hands. “Rex didn’t know, vod. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve having his lights knocked out for that!” There was so much frustration encapsulated in the first speaker’s voice that it took Rex a while to piece together that the one speaking was Y/n. When had he made her uncomfortable? 

As if attempting to answer for him, Rex’s attention was brought to the dull pain in the side of his head. Slowly, he touched his fingers to the epicenter only to find a small piece of fabric had been stuck to it. All at once, everything came back to him and the captain was confronted with a swirling mix of anger, confusion, and guilt. He should’ve known better than to grab at her like that. But, that didn’t quite match up with how violent her reaction had been. And why had Hyde punched him? Jjannex 1. He brought up Jjannex 1...Ice’s face appeared in his mind’s eye. Her e/c eyes were clouded and distant, shimmering with some long-suppressed memory that threatened to overwhelm her. Her mouth had twitched downward in a fraction of a second, a slight wobble of her bottom lip had accompanied it. Her eyebrows creased, her posture stiffened. She had looked devastated...he hated that the first emotion he got her to show was such a destructive one. 

“I still think he deserved it, if not for that then for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Nosey ol’ captain, ain’t he?” Hyde’s tone was abrasive and ignited something within Rex’s chest. 

“Watch it.” Ice barked back, her silhouette adjusting to accommodate the finger she jabbed into Hyde’s chest. “He still outranks you.” The duo lapsed into silence for a moment though it was tense and unpleasant even from Rex’s position inside the tent. While Rex was left to stew on his earlier actions that led him to this predicament, two more figures emerged outside the tent. 

Ice’s tone lightened considerably as she spoke though there was still the undercurrent of bitter frustration. “Ah, good, Bolt…” 

“What’s the damage?” The voice of Bolt was not what Rex was expecting. There was the twinge of an accent hiding within the low timbre of every clone’s voice. But his lilted on certain words, making him sound like he was singing. 

“Minimal. I did what I could for him.” Rex’s brow quirked at Ice’s words. She had done what she could? Rex’s fingertips danced over the bandage once more. “The skin was broken where Hyde made contact on his temple, that’s what knocked him out. His bottom lip’s split where he macked off Hyde’s cuirass and he’s got some bruising under his eyes from the impact as well, his nose took most of the weight.” Ice explained briskly and Rex had two seconds to fall back and pretend to be asleep upon realizing the general was on the move. “His temple wasn’t bad enough to warrant a patch,” The woman’s voice continued, unwavering, as she flicked the flap of the tent out of the way and began to approach. Three sets of footsteps followed her own. “So, I stuck with a classic plaster. I applied some ointment to his lip but wasn’t sure what to do for the bruises. Checked his nose, didn’t seem broken.” Her voice grew louder and louder as she drew closer. The Ice General was standing at the head of his cot, just out of reach. There was the familiar sound of plastoid shifting and Rex felt a hovering presence over his face like he was being analyzed. 

“Huh,” the presence backed off. “See what you mean. Well, he’s been mildly concussed and his bone is bruised but other than that, he should be fine. I’ll give him a bactashot when he wakes up, general, and he’ll be good as new come mornin’.” It was Bolt who had hovered over him, the field medic. “How long’s he been out?” 

“We just passed the eight-minute mark.” Her reply was immediate. He’d been passed out for eight minutes? Maybe he should let them know he’s awake...But, then Ice would fall back into her emotionless drawl and hearing her like this-so emotionally free?-it was surreal. Rex wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want her to stop. 

A low whistle came from somewhere farther in the tent. “Damn, you sure did a number on him, Hyde.” The specific cadence in the man’s voice alerted Rex that Fritz was the fifth person in the tent. 

“He touched her!” 

A dead silence followed his reply. 

“He grabbed my arm.” Till Ice jumped in to rectify it. The captain heard a soft ‘oh’ fall from Bolt. 

A rustling came from the roll away and Rex would wager a guess that Bolt was digging for the aforementioned bactashot. 

“Y’know, I can’t say I blame you, Hyde. Pretty sure I would have done the same.” Fritz piped up, sounding as though he was deep in thought. 

A snort came from Bolt. “You almost did! When Skywalker clapped her on the back-thought we’d be finishing our mission alone.” 

“Lay a hand on my wife and I’ll end your life, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Rex’s heart plummeted as a chill seemed to creep through him. Wife? Rex thought. That, that would make sense. Fritz and Ice were awfully close. But Ice was a Jedi. They couldn’t…

“Awee, Fritzy!” Ice cooed in a high voice, “You’re an idiot!” 

Fritz chuckled, loud and boisterous.“Your idiot.” 

Someone retched close to his feet. “Gross. Take your grossness elsewhere please.” 

“Why? You jealous that I’m the only one that can get away with flirting with the general, Hyde?” 

“No, I don’t want your abhorrent flirting throwing me off my game when I see Kacrobe again.” 

“’Abhorrent’, that’s a big word for you, Hyde.” 

“Sadly, it still dwarfs when compared to your ego, Fritz.” 

“Can it, you two.” Ice cut in. “Did you ask him out yet?” Silence met her question till it was broken with a high pitched squeal that made Rex flinch. “Hyde! Ner ori’vod is all grown up!”

“Hey, vod, you woke him up.” Bolt’s lilting voice commented dully. Rex stifled a defeated sigh and fluttered his eyes open as if he had been asleep so he had just enough time to see Ice retracting from the hug she had wrapped Hyde in. 

“Ah,” her voice had returned to the emotionless drawl as she folded her hands in front of her and smoothed her face out till no emotion was present. “Good evening, Captain.” And Rex had never felt more defeated. 

…………………………………………………..

Ice had been avoiding him ever since and Captain Rex was more upset by that then he thought he’d be. It was odd because it wasn’t like he and the General had interacted frequently before but at least if she had a matter to discuss with him, she would do it in person but now she’d just send someone to tell him. This also didn’t prove helpful in his quest to understand what had happened to the Veterans as now he had to understand her. The story of the Battle of Jjannex 1 was apparently as intricately intertwined with the Ice general as it was with her men. 

There was also another issue that had arisen-the commander and the general’s...relationship. Rex hoped that it was just some elaborate joke he was misinterpreting but the alternate reality had to be examined as well because it was treasonous. It was so against both regulations and codes that Rex was almost flabbergasted that he had to consider it. What made it worse? If it was true, he had to be the one to call them out on it. He had to go against the Ice general and her commander and her devoted men. If he got this wrong, he’d never hear the end of it, if he got this right-the grand army was out a general and his vod would be court-martialed, and if he did nothing? It was unlikely anyone would find out given the perpetual stoic general and the rather fun commander. Most people would just assume that it was a joke. But he had heard him call the general his wife. He had heard it straight from the source. But who would believe him?

“Hey, vod, you haven’t touched your food.” Fives’s voice was accompanied by a rough nudge of his arm that caused it to slide off his thigh. The captain scrambled to right himself as he turned to look at his newest recruit. 

“Sorry, got something on my mind.” The captain hurriedly coughed out and resumed aimlessly poking at his food to get Fives off his back. It didn’t work.

“Yeah, I could tell. Wanna talk about it?” Fives asked, evidently not willing to drop the conversation. 

Rex sighed through his nose. “No, Fives, I don’t.” 

“Really? Does it have to do with the fight you got into yesterday?” 

Rex couldn’t help but roll his eyes. After he had woken up, he had been engulfed in a largely one-sided conversation between himself in Hyde that basically boiled down to they would tell the truth about what happened to his men and then they would never bring it up again. “The truth” they had decided to tell them though was boiled down to he had brought up a sensitive issue and things had escalated. True? Yes. The truth? Not to him. The truth was that the Ice general and her men were hiding something and he was trying to get to the bottom of it. “I said I don’t want to talk about it, Fives.” Rex was trying to keep his voice under control, he had no right to yell at the private when his foul mood was in no way Fives’s fault. 

“Does it have to do with Ice? You haven’t been able to take your eyes off of her since yesterday.” He persisted and Rex let out a disappointed sigh. He liked Fives but his stubbornness that proved helpful in battle could easily turn annoying. 

“Would you please not phrase it like that?” The captain groaned, finally setting his ignored meal to the side. “I’ve been trying to keep an eye on her because I need to talk to her. She’s hiding something-her and the Veterans.” 

“Ah, yes, because that makes it any less creepy, alor’ad.” The younger man huffed. “Sir, with all due respect, maybe you should let it go? I’m sure that whatever it is, the Vets took care of it and it’s just a sore topic now.” 

Rex’s eyes grew wide as he was struck speechless. “I...I’m surprised to hear you say that, Fives.” The captain fought to keep his face from going slack as he struggled to articulate what he was thinking. “Normally, you’re the first to question stuff like this.” 

The private shrugged and finished up his meal before setting it to the side. “‘Been talkin’ to her men an’ they all love her. They trust her, captain, why can’t you?” Fives turned away when one of the younger 205th boys called his name and asked if he’d lend him a hand with something which left the captain time to mull over his question. Why didn’t he trust her? Part of him wanted to say that it was because she was possibly committing treason with one of her men. But Rex knew deep down that he hadn’t trusted her from the beginning. Why though? Because she was mysterious? Because he didn’t know why she acted the way she did? Because he didn’t understand why her men all had the same tattoo? Because he couldn’t figure out what made her so different from the other Jedi? 

That had to be it. He hadn’t worked with many Jedi but he had seen how they interacted with their troops and generally, it was always the same. They were respectfully distant-it was clear that most of them were concerned for their well-being but none of them were really close. None of them were named vod (except maybe Plo Koon). But Y/n L/n was. She adored her men and had even been called kih’vod. That was a big deal. That showed that their loyalty was to her. That showed that they trusted her: so why couldn’t he?  

“Captain Rex.” a clone cleared his throat to his left and Rex finally looked away from where Fives had disappeared off to. Hyde, of all people, was standing at attention beside him. 

“Uh, at ease…” Rex ordered out of habit though his heart wasn’t in it. “What did you need?” 

Hyde took a low breath as though he was preparing to do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. “General L/n was wondering if you would like to join us for a sparring match.” 

The captain’s eyebrows shot up. She was…? Why? Hadn’t he horribly offended her not even 24 hours ago? “Um, sure. I guess.” He agreed hesitantly, not entirely sure that this was real. Hyde dipped his head and beckoned for him to follow. Hyde led him farther and farther away from where he had stopped to have his breakfast until he found himself in a makeshift enclosure made from a cliff and several tents. It was still early morning so it was relatively dark and cool, making it the perfect time for a quick match but what Rex didn’t understand was why only he had been invited.

“Hyde,” So, he decided to ask, “Why just me?” 

“Sparring is...personal for the general. And, since she knows you don’t trust her, she was hoping to make up for last night.” Hyde explained almost solemnly, as he came to a stop on the edge of the ring. What did that mean? ‘Sparring is personal’. Why? Once again, the captain found his already innumerable questions perpetually multiplying. “Wait here, I’ll go get her.” Before Rex could stop him, Hyde had swept away and disappeared into a tent the captain had come to recognize as L/n’s. 

As Rex waited in the blissful coolness of morning on the desert planet, he found himself distracted by the Ice general once again. She was looking to make up for last night, that much he could wrap his head around but what he didn’t understand was what possessed her to want to. Did she know he had overheard Fritz call her his riduur? Was this her way of keeping him quiet? Or was this her way of distracting him from Jjannex 1? By offering to let him in on a personal tradition, was she hoping to stop him from further investigating the matching tattoos? If it was, then she would be disappointed to learn that she would fail. If anything, it made Rex want to keep digging.  

“Ah, Captain Rex, it is good to hear that you decided to join us.” The blond man was pulled from his ponderings by the voice of the woman he was so troubled by. Her voice was still, as ever, betraying neither elation nor distaste for his agreement. She came around his left, clad in her light tan tunic that seemed to be the uniform of the Jedi. Her cloak had been done away with, presumably, so it wouldn’t get in the way while she fought and that left the captain with a clear view of the two lightsabers that hung on her belt. “I hope you were not busy when Hyde found you?” 

It took the captain a moment to realize that it was a question. “Oh, uh, no, no. I wasn’t.” Rex’s eyes fell away from hers, cold, calculating, frozen, and to the lightsabers once more. “Are you gonna keep those on ya?” He nodded to the weapons. 

Y/n’s head tilted to the side as she processed his question. She looked like a curious loth-cat. “They are my defenses, aren’t they?” 

“Your defenses?” Rex didn’t like the sound of that. Why would she need her lightsabers to defend her during a sparring match with a clone? 

“Indeed…” She dragged out before turning to Hyde who was busily fidgeting with one of his vambraces. “Did you not explain what sparring for us entails?” 

The red-head looked up for a moment, disinterested. “No, was I supposed to?” 

Ice took a moment to sigh, her face was still unfaltering. “Yes, Hyde, you were supposed to.” She shook her head before turning her unimpassioned gaze back to Rex. “I suppose you will just have to learn through observation, Captain.” Y/n moved on swiftly, spotting something behind the captain that had her enraptured in a moment. “Fritz! Who have you got?” She projected as she moved past the blond who turned to see what she was talking about. Commander Fritz was quickly approaching with Jekyll, Bolt, Empio, Codex, Boom, and two others the captain didn’t recognize. “Ah, Codex, I see you’ve returned. And we have Boom, Phantom, and Nexus as our three other newcomers? Welcome, boys.” The three men who were apparently new to sparring just like him quickly saluted Ice till she made a gesture for them to relax. “Alright, Phantom, Nexus you two take that corner. Jekyll, Empio, Codex, over there. Hyde, Fritz, beside the tent and finally, Bolt and-” 

“Sorry to interrupt, Ice, but I’m gonna sit this one out-prefer not to get my ass whooped today.” Bolt chirped from the seat he had taken atop three crates off to Rex’s left. 

...what? Rex couldn’t help but think. Ice blinked at the medic before shrugging. “Alright then, hand Rex your blaster.” ...what? He thought again as the dark haired man pressed his blaster into his hand. “And your helmet since he didn’t bring his.” ...WHAT? “Captain, I suggest you take up a position there.” Ice ordered softly and pointed to where she meant. Still perplexed beyond all measure, the captain complied. A few seconds passed as Ice observed the gathered men and how she had placed them and Rex couldn’t help but shift on his feet, his nerves getting the better of him. With a nod, Ice grabbed her lightsabers and moved to be equidistant from each man. “Gentlemen, set your blasters to stun.” ...W H A T? 

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[pixelfun20]

Flower Fields, Ch 1

Summary: Season 7 of Hermitcraft has begun, and their newest and youngest member, Tubbo, is more than ready to prove himself in the eyes of his friends. New memories are made and friendships are forged, but old ghosts from the past still linger, and Tubbo will soon discover that fate has a way of letting things come full circle.

Notes: This an fic idea I legitimately came up with yesterday, based off of @give-grian-rights ‘s Watcher!Tubbo and Watcher!Tommy AU (I hope you don’t mind! I just loved this idea). I wrote this a single evening, let it sit for the night, and decided to publish it today. I hope you guys like it! Just to note, I haven’t finalized a title (or plot, besides some major points) yet, so if y’all have any ideas, let me know!

Chapter 1:

I'm not yours, and you're not mine

But we can sit and pass the time

For a moment, he floated in darkness.

Then in the next, he was falling through the air.

He didn’t fall far, thankfully, and his impact was cushioned by another body right underneath him.

Tubbo groaned, blinking against the bright rays of the sun as he tried to adjust from the darkness that had just encompassed him. He shifted, feeling rough cloth underneath him, and realized he was lying on someone.

“Oh! Sorry!” He exclaimed, swiftly moving off the other. He looked down as he saw a man with dark brown hair, a beard, and a leather jacket sit up, rolling his shoulders with a wince. “I think I spawned right on top of you, xB.”

xBCrafted just chuckled, pulling himself up to his feet. Tubbo followed him, cracking his back as he went, and looked around, trying to discern where he was.

Ah, man. It seemed like they had spawned on a small, sandy island, that was, worst of all, completely devoid of trees. Already it was crowding with the arrival of the other Hermits, with a few more pairs repeating the same situation as he and xB, spawning one on top of the other in the enclosed space. In the distance, he could see a large mooshroom island looming above the waves, but besides that there was nothing in sight.

“Looks like we’ll be going for a swim today!” xB chirped as Iskall spawned a foot or so away from them, landing face-first in the sand. “X wasn’t lying when he said we’d have a tricky time starting the Season.”

“And here I was hoping to stay dry,” Tubbo sighed as Iskall shot up, spluttering sand in the air. The two of them laughed at his sorry state.

“Very funny, you two,” the elder man grumbled. Iskall85, or Iskall as he was commonly known, looked considerably older than the two friends, perhaps in his early thirties. He had semi-long, scraggly brown hair and a cybernetic eye, as well as a green sweatshirt and brown vest.

“Oho, is that Scar?” xB exclaimed. Tubbo followed his gaze, and sure enough, a man in a purple bathrobe and dyed-white hair had just spawned, half in the water. Ah, GoodTimesWithScar was an odd one, alright, he thought with a laugh.

“What did he do?” Tubbo giggled. Scar turned towards them, seeming to hear his comment, and put his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he announced semi-solemnly. “The wizard life has chosen me.”

Iskall nearly cackled at that, throwing his head back, and xB and Tubbo joined him. Trust Scar to find new and creative ways to start the season! Tubbo made a mental note to drop by in a few weeks and see where this new bit got him.

“Looking good, Scar!” Stress said, coming up behind him. The shortest of the Hermits, she wore a pink jacket and kept her straight brown hair short and to the chin. “How’re you doing, Tub?”

“Great!” Tubbo chirped back. “Excited to start the Season right.”

“Let me know if you need anything, love,” she added, clapping her hands together. “That goes for all of you! I’d chat for longer, but Mumbo and I have some plans we need to discuss. See you all in a bit!” And with that she was gone, hopping over to the other side of the island. Scar went right on her heels, jogging over to Cubfan135 (a balding man in a lab coat around Iskall’s age), who was standing next to Mumbo Jumbo.

Tubbo scanned over the rapidly growing group of people, grinning once he caught sight of a flash of black-striped yellow armor in the crowd. 

“Hey! X!” He called out, waving. A man fully covered in armor, painted to resemble a bee, looked over to them. Through his vizor, Tubbo could see the corners of his brown eyes crinkle in the tell-tale sign of a smile, and he approached the trio. “Love the outfit!”

“Thank you, Tubbo,” XisumaVoid replied, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m quite liking your new design, too.”

Tubbo fought back a blush, looking down at himself. Like the elder man, he’d changed up his usual outfit to celebrate the newest mob addition to Season 6, the bees. He’d changed into a yellow jacket with black stripes on the sleeves over a gray shirt, as well as black pants with a yellow stripe down the sides. 

“Alrighty, I’ll be leaving you two to your father-son bonding,” Iskall cut in, waving a hand as he walked off. “I’m going to go catch up with Keralis.”

“Oh, will you stop with that!” Xisuma said good-naturedly as Tubbo really did his best not to blush. xB laughed again. Iskall just whistled, walking over to where Keralis, a man in his late thirties in a blue shirt and jeans, had just spawned. The server’s admin turned back to Tubbo. “Sorry about that. You know how he can be.”

Tubbo just shook his head a bit, trying to suppress a smile. Ah, it’d been far too long since the Hermits had all been in one place like this. He’d missed the action of it all.

He, Xisuma, and xB chatted together for a few minutes as everyone spawned in and caught their bearings. It seemed everyone had big plans for the Season. While he and Xisuma had gone with a bee theme, xB was apparently planning to really Hermit out the season, far away from spawn. Scar was certainly embracing the wizard part of himself, and rumor had it BDubs and Doc were going to be neighbors, which was a recipe for disaster and, more importantly, funny stories. 

“Okay, everyone!” It was Keralis’ shout that drew the twenty-some players out of their respective conversations. Almost unconsciously, they’d formed an oval around the perimeter of their tiny spawn island. “Intro time! Let’s go, X!”

“What? Why me?” Xisuma protested, but Keralis just laughed and took his place back in the circle.

“C’mon, admin,” Tubbo teased him with an elbow to the side. Xisuma sighed, rolling his shoulders, then stepped out into the center of the island.

“Alright everyone. Welcome to Hermitcraft Season 7! Go!” He clapped his hands together and dashed back towards the shore, the circle immediately breaking up as the Hermits split into their groups and dove into the ocean. Tubbo laughed as he waved goodbye to xB, who took off in a different direction as he went to follow X.

The water was nice and lukewarm, and soon enough Tubbo was backstroking over the ocean. He looked up at the bright blue sky, and smiled.

~~~~~~~~~

They spent most of the first day collecting supplies. 

As it turned out, both FalseSymmetry, Hypnotizd, and ZombieCleo had decided to go in the same direction as he and Xisuma, so they ended up gathering their first bits of wood and stone together. Then there was some issue with the server that caused Xisuma to have to dive deep into the server code, in the open, at midnight, so their first night went without much sleep and with a lot of mob fighting instead.

“Well,” Cleo said the next morning, twirling her axe as Tubbo set to cooking some meat for breakfast. “That could have gone better.”

“I think the first night went just fine, thank you very much,” False shot back, sharpening her newly-minted stone sword. “I’m going to be honest, though, I’m not used to going out at night without an elytra. Or armor. Or a decent sword.”

“Hey, but did you see how many mobs I killed?” Tubbo put in, pulling out some pork chops and tossing one to Cleo. “I’m a god, I tell you.”

“Yes,” Xisuma replied. He was still sitting on one of the beds they’d made, and was double checking some of the code. “God of giving me heart attacks.”

“Not my fault you messed up part of the code! I saved your life!”

“I’d suggest you remember who bandaged that arrow wound, kid.”

Tubbo’s hand flew to his shoulder, where his jacket was torn slightly, and he blushed. “I’m not a kid!”

Everyone turned and gave him a flat look, and Tubbo blushed harder, looking down. It was no secret that he was, by far, the youngest person on the server. Most players were in their late twenties, like False and Impulse, to their late thirties, like Scar and Doc. Even the youngest before he’d arrived had been Mumbo and xB, at 24 and 19 respectively. At just barely 16, Tubbo was, well, a child compared to them.

Loathe as he was to admit it. It had been hard enough in the beginning, when he’d arrived unexpectedly at the beginning of Season 6. No one had been expecting any new players to join that Season, much less a mentally scarred 14-year-old, and he’d ended up being coddled for the first six months or so. Heck, he’d lived with Xisuma until he’d grown so tired of it he’d had to run off and make his own base without asking him, because the answer would have been no.

He was perfectly capable of living on his own! It was just… well, Tubbo knew he wasn’t as good as the others. He couldn’t make the huge, rolling complexes or over complicated redstone machines that did everything for you like the other hermits did. Of course, it made sense; he had a lot less experience and was still learning these things. But it didn’t help the fact that the others, well, they didn’t look down on him, per se, but they were always a little too willing to help, a little too protective. 

“Sure,” Cleo was drawling teasingly, drawing him out of his thoughts. Tubbo snorted and looked down at his breakfast with a shake of his head, starting to eat. 

“Oh, let him be,” Hypno put in, grabbing some food for himself. “I remember being that age. Young and ready to take on the world. At least he doesn't have any creaky old bones. I’m already feeling my back in the mornings.”

“Alrighty then!” Xisuma announced after a moment of silence, rising from his bed and closing the admin screens. “Looks like all the post-spawn bugs have been taken care of. I’m ready to head out for the day.”

“I guess this is where we all say goodbye, then,” False replied, twirling her sword. “I have the best idea for my base this season, but I gotta go north from here.”

“Tubbo and I are heading east.”

“West for me,” Cleo put in.

Hypno just shrugged. “I figured I’d wander for a bit before settling down.”

“No planning?” Tubbo asked, then grinned, glad for the change of subject. “I like your style, Hypno.”

The bandana-ed man inclined his head at him with a smile. He wasn’t a new player to the server, not at all, but from what Tubbo knew he hadn’t been around for a few years. Prior to the last few days as they’d prepared to jump Seasons, he’d hardly even heard of the man before, and thus didn’t know him too well.

Xisuma clapped Tubbo’s shoulder, eyes crinkling from that helmet-obscured smile of his. 

“Ready to go?” he asked.

Tubbo whooped. “Bees, here we come!”

~~~~~~~~~

Perfect.

That was the only way Tubbo could describe the place he’d come across. He sat in the branches of one of the tallest trees in the area, looking out to where the forest he’d been traversing ended and the plains biome, scattered with flowers in small patches around, with gentle hills rolling even further in the distance.

It was an idyllic location, and perfect for his plans for the Season.

Another day had passed, marking it Day 3 of Season 7. After that first somewhat disastrous night, he and Xisuma had separated from their initial group and travelled to find a base together. Xisuma had decided, for some reason, that he was going to build his base in the middle of the jungle, so they had set up camp there for the night. Come dawn, however, Tubbo was ready to go and scout for a place of his own, and with a promise to check in with Xisuma every day or so, he’d set off that morning.

It was early afternoon, now, and honestly, Tubbo was pleased with how quickly he’d found his spot. It was only a half-day’s journey, while walking, from Xisuma, so once he’d gotten elytra he’d be able to visit whenever he wanted. Besides that, news had it that Keralis and Beef were only a little ways out, which would be fun since Tubbo didn’t know them too well.

Humming quietly, Tubbo reached into his inventory and took out the only belonging he’d taken with him from Season 6－a medium-sized notebook, filled with sketches and notes on what he wanted to build and how to do it. Last Season he hadn’t been ambitious enough; Tubbo had started late thanks to living with Xisuma and then had focused on just having a base of his own that by the end of the season it had looked puny compared to the many buildings his friends/guardians had made.

He wasn’t making that mistake again. Tubbo had grand plans for this Season’s megabase, and he was going to make sure it blew everyone else out of the water.

Okay, maybe that was an over exaggeration. But Tommy had always said to aim high.

His heart twisted a bit, as it always did when he thought of his old friends. Back then, he’d known people his own age, and Wilbur and Techno had rarely held back against him when they’d interacted with him, whether through words or PvP.

He wondered how they were doing; it’d been almost two years since he’d last seen or heard from them. He wondered if they’d moved on.

He wondered if they knew he was still alive.

Tubbo shook his head, chasing the depressing thoughts out of his mind. He’d found himself thinking of his old friends less and less over the last year and half, as he’d settled into life in Hermitcraft and begun to heal from what had happened to him. Not to say he didn’t miss them, that he wasn’t missing something in his life, but, well. Even though he thought of them every once in a while, the numerous letters he’d written to Tommy, unable to be sent, had been left behind with Season 6, in a way of really starting anew.

Doc had explained it best. Life moved on, and sometimes it was best to just hold onto the old memories and work on making new ones.

He’d taken that advice to heart. Tubbo flipped open his notebook to one of the middle pages, holding it out and comparing his sketch to the open plains before him.

Yes. This biome would do quite nicely.

Season 7 was going to be something great.

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 10: All in)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

summary:

In the past, Ryder took her first step.

In the present, the revolution is in full force.

In the past, Chloe catalogued the situation.

also on ao3

---

Before

It was March, but the polar Urals were still cold and stormy, the outside world blindingly bright with howling blizzards during the few hours of daylight and completely dark for the nighttime that consumes the mountains for the rest of the day. The glass had been attached to solid rock, but somehow, not once did it rattle even in the face of wind strong enough to break most other materials, and despite the snow outside, Ryder was dressed in only simple dress shirt and trousers, tendrils of blue dancing on her right hand and supporting a pin of the earth under an arch split in the middle. Her powers suddenly dissipated, the pin dropping onto a metallic hand with a small clink and continued making the noise because it started vibrating, and a swipe of her thumb against the surface silenced it.

‘Ryder?’ the pin emitted a voice. ‘Who pays for our parents’ sin?’

Ryder sighed. ‘Not themselves, not their successors, and certainly not the world. You have an update for me.’

‘How do you know?’

‘That was my order and you are smart enough to remember.’

‘He lived. There are complications but… he lived.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘He doesn’t remember the Candidate at all. All associated memories, gone. That’s why I delayed telling you about him being awake: I need to access the damage.’

‘You don’t sound surprised.’

‘I believe this is not the first time this has happened.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘When we grew up together, I noticed a few inconsistencies between his own account surrounding his life and those from the people around him. Fussy details, contradictory recalling of events, reluctance to share the problems in-depth. I think it’s related to what had happened before you and I were born.’

Outside, the storm picked up, and the wind whisked by with a loud whistle. ‘We can sort out the reasons later. How much does he remember?’

‘He keeps talking about how you threw a building on him and is convinced that Blue Sunset is some secret NASA project, but otherwise? Not much. Like I said, everything related to the Candidate is gone.’

‘And he doesn’t realise that he has lost a large part of his life?’

‘He’s making things up along the way. Trips, what he has been doing for the past few years, his time with me before that. It would’ve been a fascinating study on how the human brain rationalises the irrational if it hadn’t been the shitshow this might lead to.’

‘Shitshow?’

‘His knowledge is completely gone together with his memories. I don’t know why or how, but he is no longer useful to us and a suitable pick for the project even if he remembers a bit about Ilya who shouldn’t even be close to him.’

‘That’s why we have the RK500.’

A pause. ‘I nearly forgot. How’s it going?’

‘Chassis construction is complete. Now I only need to sort out the code regarding his memories and delete the last few moments.’

‘And the Candidate?’

‘Recovering. I was tempted to use cybernetics to accelerate the process, but knowing him…’

‘Just give him a choice later. He’ll take it especially now that we have the new RK. An eternity together.’

‘I thought you don’t care about romance.’

‘They do, and this will be what they’ll think. That’s assuming that you’ll roll out the RK, of course.’

‘What gives you the impression that I won’t?’

‘The fact that the original lived?’

‘Like you said, he isn’t useful to us anymore. RK500 will be our logical choice to ensure that our plans won’t be delayed even more.’

‘And the arrangements for the original?’

‘A certain police department is lacking officers after the incident. I’ll handle the paperwork and strings. You focus on cleaning up, and come here when you are done.’

‘I won’t be long. I promise.’

‘Take your time. We won’t lift off without you.’

‘Appreciate it. Anchor out.’

The call disconnected, and all that was left in the room were the whistling wind outside and the click of approaching footsteps. Staring at her reflection on the glass, Ryder seemed to be in deep thoughts for a few seconds before her right index and middle finger reached for her temple where normal androids would have their LEDs installed and deactivated the skin on her face as well, leaving only her hair in place, and not long after that the door on her left slid open to admit a younger-looking Elijah Kamski. ‘Ilya,’ Ryder greeted, and the man came to a stop standing next to the android, his tie shimmering in tiny versions of the same logo of the earth under a broken arch just like the one on Ryder’s pin. ‘I don’t know how to thank you for giving us all this.’

The man let out a small chuckle. ‘Just doing my job to prepare humanity for the next big leap. Thirium is a fascinating development.’

‘Not a new one, though.’

‘Thirium 310 is. You harnessed what our parents couldn’t and used it to create infinite intelligence.’

‘And my father abused it.’

‘Isn’t that why we are standing here right now? To make sure that humanity doesn’t repeat the same mistake in the future?’

Ryder leant against the glass with her forehead pillowed on her arm. ‘Not humanity,’ she replied, her voice pensive. ‘It was my own carelessness and one man’s greed and pride. Nothing more. Everything else is just collateral.’

‘You are working to change it right now. Focus on the future. We won’t be confined to earth anymore.’

A small smile played on Ryder’s lips. ‘That is true,’ she straightened herself and faced the man, and he had to tilt his head up just to look at her in her eyes. ‘Did you say something about cold-resistant chassis?’

‘I hope you don’t mind that I take the opportunity to add them to RK500.’

‘Of course I don’t.’

‘Good. We’ll need it.’

‘Do you need it?’

‘My chassis is made from alloys they use to build rockets. I think I can skip a generation or two before starting to consider what is essentially getting a new body.’

‘You’ll get it.’

The two lapsed into silence while their gazes turned towards the falling snow outside. A drone cut across the blizzard easily as if the wind did not exist at all, the floodlight mounted on its side illuminating a giant hyperboloid structure in the distance. 

‘And how do you want to solve the US?’ Elijah suddenly asked. 

The drone circled to a spot where the mounted floodlight revealed the same earth-and-broken-arch logo. ‘It’ll solve itself.’

‘You sound confident.’

‘Of course I do,’ the rings in Ryder’s eyes spun quickly. ‘It has to.’

o0o0o

Now

Louis and Elijah spend the rest of the way back combing the streets and avoiding the army, scouting out the sections of the city Markus eventually will have to pass through and plotting a route with minimal checkpoints and army presence and, if necessary, neutralise them without alerting the military. They hack the locks of the closed shops, drag the unconscious soldier inside, and then reinforce the lock with additional protection that will wear down in 24 hours; Elijah reassures that they can survive in an unheated, uninsulated room for that long, and despite Louis’ own reservation as a man who spent most of his childhood up north in Alaska and has seen what the cold does to people who are unprepared, he keeps his mouth shut.

‘Come on,’ he peels the handheld… device away from the now-hacked lock. ‘Let’s get back to the church.’

They climb into the car which is now filled with wounded androids who agreed to seek help from Jericho, the drive back much simpler compared to when they have to clear everything themselves, and after unloading the androids and directing them to the suitable help, they don’t even have the time to clean up before Reyes and Chloe are climbing in again. 

‘That’s it?’ Louis has to ask. ‘No back-up, no partner, nothing?’

‘That’s the plan,’ Chloe says airily. ‘You are the amateur here, I’m afraid, so I’ll come with you. Reyes and Elijah will go alone.’

‘Besides, those camps are only running on a skeleton crew,’ Reyes adds as he starts checking his weapons. ‘With b - powers like ours, it doesn’t take much to immobilise everyone guarding the camps. Easy.’

The car slides away from the church with a low hum, and Louis realises that this is the point of no return. It’s either victory or death now, a common occurrence for his line of occupation - being the leader of a SWAT team does have its own risk - but this? Having an entire species’ fate resting on top of their shoulders?

He is not mentally prepared for it.

‘Deep breaths,’ Reyes’ voice washes over him. ‘We’re gonna be fine. Trust us.’

‘I’m not worried about you,’ Louis argues. ‘Aren’t you bothered by how many people’s survival depends on us?’

‘That’s why we don’t plan on failing and I’m coming with you,’ answers Chloe who casually flips her - he doesn’t even know what that weapon is. Probably something illegal as fuck, but it’s not like Louis is in a position to complain about someone breaking the law. ‘Reyes and Elijah are practised users and can handle themselves. You, on the other hand…’

He checks his own gear and feels terribly underprepared and inadequate. ‘I probably shouldn’t have come, should I.’

‘It will be good practise,’ Chloe says cheerfully. ‘At least the army is still unshielded. They are unshielded, right?’

Elijah lets out a very undignified snort. ‘They won’t be shielded for the next two hundred years, Chloe.’

‘Can’t hurt to confirm.’

It is at this moment that Louis’ brain finally catches up with what they are talking about. ‘You want me to test my powers on living people?’

‘Yeah. What else can it mean?’

Louis exchanges a look with Reyes and decides not to reply. Watching the sunset and how the light reflects off the snow is much more enjoyable than thinking about how to casually doom some of the smartest people in the country with radiation poisoning anyway.

‘Louis?’

He turns his head towards Chloe. ‘What?’

‘You do know how to immobilise a person, don’t you?’

‘It’s the first thing I learnt to do. Easier than ripping things apart on a molecular level.’

‘Good. We’ll be using a lot of that.’ The car slows down and comes to a stop in a narrow alley. ‘We’re here.’

They hop off the car with their weapons either collapsed or at least swung across his shoulder for Louis’ case because his rifle is primitive and cannot fold up on its own. The sun is down, the snow hasn’t stopped falling, and the streets are deserted because of the curfew which they are technically violating. ‘Check your comms,’ Elijah says, and his tone has completely shifted to something more authoritative. ‘We need to make sure that we’ll be able to stay in touch.’

Louis reaches into his pocket to take out his amplifier/communicator and hooks it over his left ear. Tapping the device twice, he feels the subtle change in the air as it connects with the implant in his head and taps and fine-tunes his powers in a way that he still doesn’t entirely understand, but it can also be the way the people around him are subtly testing out their powers and letting faint blue tendrils wrap around their body before dissipating as if they were never there. 

Reyes' voice comes out directly from the communicator on Louis’ ear even though his mouth isn’t moving. ‘Testing. Please reply if you can hear me.’

‘Clear as crystal,’ Louis mutters under his breath. ‘Please reply if you can hear me.’

‘All clear,’ Chloe and Reyes say at the same time. ‘Good,’ only Reyes continues, ‘no interference, no problems detected. Our signal is powerful enough to allow us to stay in touch through the EMPs.’ Then to no one in particular, ‘Simon, you hear me?’

‘I hear you,’ the blond android’s voice comes through without any warning. ‘We are still a distance away from Hart Plaza camp. No soldiers yet, but you might want to hurry just in case. And…’ a pause, ‘stay safe.’

‘We will,’ Elijah replies. ‘Focus on your protest. The humans won’t know what hit them.’

Louis feels the call disconnects after that, and he exhales deeply to calm himself down. He saw Reyes fight many years ago and Elijah and Chloe already stormed a camp, so he is the only uncertainty here. ‘You’re welcome to ditch me if I’m dragging you down,’ he tells Chloe. ‘The revolution is more important.’

Elijah cocks his head towards the direction they all need to go to, and they start walking side-by-side on the empty street. ‘Now, don’t think so lowly of yourself. Harnessing your powers without any mentor in just a couple of months is no small feat.’

Somehow it isn’t as reassuring as it should be. ‘I’ve fucked up with teams of more before.’

‘That’s why we’re going in light,’ Chloe chimes in. ‘Less people, less variations to deal with. Besides, we’re infiltrating camps here. Too many people makes it difficult to coordinate everything.’

‘That’s…’ he gives it a thought, ‘true.’

‘Can you all shut up?’ Reyes gives them a chastising look. ‘We’re trying not to get discovered here.’

‘Whatever you say, Reyes,’ says Chloe, and that’s the end of their conversation.

They split up after half an hour of walking. The area is oddly deserted with neither civilians nor the army in sight, and normally speaking Louis would’ve freaked out from it if not for the two androids with built-in GPS in their brains in the group. Reyes sets off for the camp farthest away from where they are because of the speed he can achieve as an android and his infiltration skills, Elijah goes for the closest but smallest one because he is human and has limited stamina (advanced training or no), leaving Louis and Chloe gunning after the remaining one which happens to be the second-biggest camp in Detroit. ‘You trust me with it?’ he asks the android accompanying him after fifteen more minutes of walking. And hiding now, apparently, because they finally encounter their first checkpoint, and Chloe directs him to hide in the shadows waiting for… something.

‘I can feel your powers from a hundred metres away,’ is the reply. ‘You’ll do fine.’

She then hands him the binoculars which serve more as a scanner than actually helping them looking far (they’re on ground level so there isn’t much to see), and Louis is genuinely lost. ‘What are we doing here?’

Chloe’s forearm lights up with a hologram of the street they are located in and its surrounding blocks. There are orange dots which must represent the army, the green seems to be civilians, and the two blue dots, he realises, are themselves. ‘There’ll be a truck designated for the camp passing through this checkpoint in t-minus five minutes. Take your binoculars, adjust them to setting three, and point them towards your ten o’clock direction. Tell me what you see.’

Louis does as she says and sees figures outlined with red behind the fence covered with a tarp together with a HUD filled with labels of the androids’ models and status. ‘Androids labelled by their model and status.’

‘They will have to be loaded onto the truck one by one.’

He lowers the binoculars. ‘You want us to pose as soldiers? The windows aren’t tinted and we…’ he gestures at his own gear, unable to find words to describe all the things that will give them away.

‘Take off your gun.’

He does.

‘That’s why we have this.’

Two circular discs materialise in Chloe’s hands and she places one of them on the small of his back, and he feels the device latches onto his nervous system with the help of his cybernetics and expands in all directions; in less than a minute, his clothes have been replaced with what seems to be standard-issue army outfit full with armour and a helmet shutting him in and blocking his vision. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, he tries to take the helmet off just to find out that he can’t, and the next thing he knows the built-in HUD is booting up and finally allowing him to see. ‘What the fuck is this?’

‘Standard-issue American army armour,’ Chloe’s voice filters in through the speakers in the helmet, and when Louis turns his head he sees that the android is in a similar outfit, ‘with a few modifications.’

Louis risks stretching out his arms to examine the fabric and plates. ‘I don’t see any differences.’

‘You shouldn’t be able to. That’s… kind of the point.’

Louis picks up his rifle so that he can’t fidget with his hands. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. It should probably change into something more protective after we got into the camp. The kinetic barrier protects you from all incoming projectiles, the ceramic plates should stop close-quarter combat weapons like knives and stuff, and the tactical cloak… well, you’ve seen it in action.’

‘Tactical cloak? You mean the stunt you pulled when you and Eli first arrived at the church?’

‘Yes.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘Here.’ Chloe taps the patch on her left shoulder where the velcro of a normal set of armour is and disappears completely from his view apart from a small distortion of light that he probably won’t notice if he hadn’t known that she was there. ‘Try it yourself.’

He does and sees no changes despite a notification popping up on his HUD telling him that his tactical cloak is active. ‘Uh…. can you see me? I can still see myself.’

‘That’s so that you don’t trip, but no, normal people can’t see you.’

He touches the patch again to deactivate the cloak.

‘And this… “kinetic barrier” thing?’

An alert flashes in his HUD notifying him of the truck’s imminent approach. ‘It’s here,’ Chloe announces even though they both can see it (probably), and Louis recognises the act: when in a fight, always assume that your teammates are idiots. ‘Stay sharp. Follow my lead.’

Chloe retreats to the closed shop behind the two of them, holding the door open just wide enough for Louis to sneak in before slowly closing it again so that it doesn’t make any noise to alert the army. Then he follows her to the depths of the shop where a trapdoor designed to blend it with the flooring is, but when he kneels and places his hand on the hatch, Chloe raises her hand to stop him, placing her hand in the middle of the door instead, and it takes only a second for something underneath to click.

‘You may open it now,’ says the android, and Louis suppresses his embarrassment and the questions in his mind before opening the surprisingly heavy trapdoor to reveal a ladder hanging by the edge. Chloe doesn’t even use it and hops down directly, leaving Louis feeling slow and clumsy as he struggles to fit himself into the door with his rifle while also needing to close the trapdoor. It locks automatically on top of him as he finishes the final few steps of the ladder, and he notices that they seem to be in a maintenance tunnel of sorts, the space stretching ahead on both sides with wires hanging from the ceiling and running on the walls in an organised manner. ‘A maintenance tunnel?’ he asks.

‘How else do you think they light up the roads from the ground itself?’ Chloe tosses her answer and a shockwave of blue tendrils towards some cables at the same time, and by the time Louis processes what exactly happened in front of his eyes, the entire tunnel is slowly being plunged into the darkness segment by segment. His HUD automatically switches to night vision, making everything green and blurry and himself suddenly feeling very unsafe, and he can feel his nerves tingling with the call for activating his power just in case. ‘Relax,’ there’s a hint of a smile in Chloe’s voice. ‘There’s no one here.’

He reigns his powers in. ‘Next time,’ he follows her to the ladder on the other side of the corridor, ‘tell me what you’re planning to do.’

‘Organics are slow.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m just teasing.’

The hatch is unlocked and lifted. Chloe smoothly hops out and holds out an arm which Louis takes with a muttered gratitude, and she remains crouched to close and lock the trapdoor again before straightening and immediately going towards the front of what seems like another shop on the other side of the road.

They are standing right behind where all the captive androids are.

A sudden movement attracts his gaze, and the next thing he knows is that the soldier tasked to watch the androids is limp in Chloe’s arms and she is slowly lowering them onto the floor. ‘Alright, I think we’re safe.’

And the speaker on his helmet explodes with comm chatter, ‘Finally’, ‘Where have you been?’, ‘That’s one hell of an entrance’, and ‘Who’s this human?’ being the very few messages Louis can filter through all the noise. He winces, his hand reaching for the clasp of his helmet, but just as suddenly as they started the chatter dies, Chloe’s command silencing them like a tsunami to calm all the smaller waves.

‘This is Louis. He’ll help me get to the control centre,’ there is a strange attribute to the android’s voice that Louis can’t place for a few moments, but then he realises that she must be communicating directly with the comms instead of talking out loud. ‘This is your last chance to back out from this operation. I do not wish for anyone to get hurt because they feel like they are obliged to. There is an entrance to a maintenance tunnel right behind you which all of you can override easily. That can be your way out.’

A wave of ‘Hell no’ and ‘Nah’ washes over the comms, the LEDs of the androids who have them spinning yellow while their mouths remain stationary, and Louis barely has time to transfer his rifle from his back to his hands before the fence opens to admit a pair of soldiers with their lamp-mounted rifles. ‘Alright, c’mon, be q -’

A quick blast of blue envelopes the two of them in fields of blue. The android who is responsible for the stasis fields makes a motion of yanking their fist towards themselves, and it sends the two soldiers flying towards the back, their bodies limp as ragdolls as the field dissipates and drops them. Suddenly realising that Chloe is gone, Louis hurries outside to the pavement where the only other soldier should be, and even they have been taken care of with… something. Louis might never know because the soldier is already lying on the snow and another android is already dragging them to where their compatriots are. ‘What do we do now?’ he asks as he is completely lost track of what is happening. It is evident that these androids are related to Chloe somehow, but that doesn’t answer… quite a lot of things, actually, answers that he has a feeling that he doesn’t want to know. ‘How many things are you not telling me?’

‘Oh, don’t be so paranoid,’ Chloe replies. Behind them, the androids start hopping into the truck willingly. ‘Everything is going to plan.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Louis says drily. ‘How can I be sure if you aren’t even telling me about it?’

‘Like you said, we’re storming the second biggest camp in Detroit. I just… called for some extra help.’

‘And Reyes and Eli?’

‘They’ll live. I’m not sure how they’ll do it, though. We tend to keep ourselves separate, especially Reyes. He isn’t…’ she trails off. ‘Anyway, get in. I’ll drive.’

Louis gets into the passenger seat. ‘Are these androids related to what Eli told me to stay out of?’

The truck suddenly accelerates, and even with her face concealed behind the helmet, he can feel the impatience rolling off the android. ‘Elijah just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?’

‘I asked.’

‘He’s always been the more idealistic one. Don’t worry about that, there’s a reason he’s stuck here.’

‘“Here”?’

‘I said, “Don’t worry about it.”’

Louis turns to face the road ahead as he fidgets with his rifle and feels his fingertips itching with his power. ‘I’m sorry.’

There is no reply from Chloe, and even his helmet enters power conservation by turning off all unnecessary HUD features and clearing way for his vision - not that there’s much to see apart from more android corpses and piles of snow anyway. The road beneath the wheels are dark from having its power cut off, the lights flicker from the lack of maintenance or unstable power supply or both, and there is only the hum of the engine, the faint, open-mouthed chatter from the androids at the back of the truck, and the sound of Louis detaching and reattaching the magazine of his rifle again and again.

So he does the only thing he can do right now: worry.

oOoOo

It does not make sense at all, but there is a nagging feeling at the base of Connor’s skull that something is about to go terribly, terribly wrong, so he plays with his coin as the taxi pulls itself across the bridge towards CyberLife’s headquarters and warehouse to soothe his nerves. The road itself is heated to prevent the accumulation of snow but he analyses the tracks anyway, revealing that another vehicle has driven by not long ago. The gates are up, there are security guards stationed in the snow, and he notices that every single one of them are human.

The window slides open with a hiss and a blast of cold air mixed with snow and it takes everything Connor has to turn his face towards the approaching guard. ‘Connor Model #313 248 317. I am expected.’

He faces the front of the car once more to place his LED in the guard’s view, feeling the guard’s helmet pinging it and receiving his identification data before he is allowed to go ahead. The gates lower slowly, the pillars disappearing into the earth one by one, and the taxi pulls off into the distance towards where the tower looms overhead. He pockets his coin, fixes his tie one last time to make sure that his attire is immaculate, feels the embroidery on his shirt underneath his jacket brushing against his skin and turns down the sensitivity in that area so that he won’t react to the stimuli; anything to make himself seem more mechanical and less deviant, and Connor finds himself loathing it as he schools his expression just in time for the taxi’s door to slide open. A drone flies overhead even though the area requires no more illumination, but in a way Connor understands the additional security measures; the three human guards waiting for him inside is another proof.

‘Follow me,’ the guard standing in the middle says. ‘I’ll escort you,’ which, to Connor, is no different from ‘I’ll lead you to your death’.

‘Thanks, but I know where to go,’ Connor tries despite having calculated that chances are they will ignore his request, and indeed the guard cites his orders as an excuse to lead him deeper into the tower with the other two trailing behind the android. They pass the security check - the guards are agents 23, 47, 72 - and the irony that humans working for CyberLife are treated exactly like androids does not escape him. Through the gates, the space above his head is mostly empty with what he knows are offices lining the sides of the building, and they enter a hanging courtyard where a giant humanoid statue stands looming over everything around it. The vegetation on the lower floor does little to give the space more life than it is, and he has to restrain himself from approaching one of the androids lining the path to the lift and deviating them on spot; he’ll have to come back for them later.

The guard escorting him stops in front of the lift and hands his task over to two new guards - or agents, if their identification is anything to go by - stationed on both sides of the door. One of them directs the lift to level 31 without asking where Connor wishes to go, and when he seeks for the level guide displayed on the side of the lift, it is evident that it isn’t the level he is supposed to go to, so he scans his surroundings, looks around, discovering and deactivating the security feed should he resort to… more extreme measures to get what he wants. Then his world enters the grey of his pre-construction software and he sees the yellow outline of himself attacking the agent on his left before kicking the one on his right in his crotch, and even though he knows that he has a much easier solution to the problem, his powers are still unstable, and he doesn’t want to risk plummeting down 70 stories and smashing into a thousand pieces in the basement with a poorly-coordinated stunt. Letting colour return to his vision, he primes himself and gives the agent on his left a hard shove, kicks the other agent in his liver, knees the first agent’s leg to steal his gun, and then turns to push the other agent to a corner to buy himself some time to slam the man straining him into the wall behind them. A kick straight on the head of the agent at the corner, an elbow to the guts of the one behind him, a turn to get the gun in place, a well-placed shot straight to where the helmet isn’t able to cover, and he has a dead man sliding off the wall behind him while he rolls onto the floor from the kickback and shoots the surviving agent in his chin as well. He stands up, tucks the stolen pistol into his waistband, and although he knows that he still has ten floors’ worth of time to spare, he dares not waste them and risks meeting whatever is waiting for him on level 31. He interfaces with the panel and is presented with two options: his own voice or agent 54’s.

The answer is obvious, really.

Hoping that he will never use the voice emulator again, he steps back after the lift is redirected to level -49, trying not to step on the puddles of blood that have gathered within the confines of the enclosed space.

So much for trying to be peaceful and harmless.

oOoOo

‘This is your driver speaking. We are approaching Recall Centre No.4. Please check your barriers, test out your powers, keep calm, and make sure that you are in fighting shape. Chloe RT600 out.’

The tone the android employs reminds Louis of the last-minute warnings from flight attendants before the plane starts to land, pleasant and chirpy except with much less static and interference. The HUD in his helmet flares to live, showing him a small map of the block around the camp together with what seems to be an aim assist target and a bunch of unnecessary information about his vitals, and all they do is annoying him by blocking his vision and making him wave his hand in front of his helmet in a pathetic attempt to make them go away. It is an acute reminder of why he leaves his helmet hanging on his hip whenever he has the chance to: he prefers having as little distraction in his vision as he can.

‘Don’t worry, all we need to do is get past the gate before the armour will change into something that suits you,’ Chloe helpfully supplies. ‘We’re nearly there.’

‘I know, Chloe,’ Louis suppresses a sigh directed more at himself than everything else. ‘It’s just a bit much. One crack or malfunction and I’m good as blind.’

‘Well, ours are more durable than your common standard-issue gear.’

‘Very comforting,’ Louis deadpans. ‘You’re probably used to this, aren’t you?’

‘Not as primitive, no,’ the android chuckles. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let you die. Not that you can die, of course, but still.’

The truck stops in front of a gate to be inspected by two soldiers. ‘What’s our plan again? Can we even classify it as infiltration right now?’

Chloe’s grip on the wheel tightens, and her armour squeaks against the material of the handle. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Our plan is to use minimal violence. It took a lot of lives to steer the public opinion to the androids’ side. We shouldn’t squander it.’

A small sigh. ‘Don’t worry. These people know what they’re doing. They’ll help us distract the other soldiers while we hit the heart of the camp.’

‘The control centre,’ Louis says out loud to remind himself. The gate opens, Chloe directs the truck inside, and the thought suddenly crosses his mind. ‘Wait, they’re gonna kill themselves to -’

‘They know the risks. That was why I gave them an out back then. Besides, we have backups of their memories and code. They know they won’t stay dead forever.’

‘They actually agreed to this?’

The truck comes to a stop, and the facility in front of him reminds him of that time he brought his sister to one of the concentration camps during their time in Europe before she went to the Academy and a gap started emerging between them. ‘Just so that I’ll remember what our grandparents fought against and why they chose a place this far north when they fled,’ he remembers her saying, and at that time he still thought that it was just his overactive imagination which caused him to feel like all the hair on his body was standing up. 

Now he isn’t certain.

‘Just like how you agreed to the plan despite being kept in the dark,’ Chloe’s reply tears him away from his musing. ‘Now get off. We have a camp to infiltrate.’

They hop off with their rifles in hand, walking past layers of security like they don’t exist at all while the androids in the truck are instructed to fall in line with their hands on their heads by soldiers who take over their position, the latter blissfully unaware of what is going to happen to them. Probably just surprised and shocked because someone breached their defences like a warm knife over soft butter, but so far Chloe made no promises about keeping violence to the minimum, and Louis has a feeling that she is the trigger-happy type who won’t stop once the shooting starts. 

‘What do we do now?’ Louis murmurs and hopes that no one can hear him and the speaker can pick up his voice. ‘Are we gonna walk straight into the command centre, or…?’

It takes Chloe a few seconds before she gives an answer. ‘Wander around this area and stick together. Hide when I tell you to. It’ll be a few minutes before my people will be sorted into the ranks.’

‘Noted.’

It is the longest four minutes of his life filled with images that are forever burnt to the back of Louis’ eyes. Most of the androids - normal ones, not the ones Chloe sneaked in - stand silent and still while they walk towards their deaths under the army’s instruction, while some of the deviants fight futilely and either end up being hit on the back of their heads or outright shot and their bodies dragged to… somewhere behind the containers where the androids are being disassembled and their circuits fried. There are also androids wounded or dead sitting and lying in the snow with their backs against the fence, and the soldiers don’t seem to care that someone is not in line; after all, why waste your strength policing a phone which will be disassembled and thrown into the trash in a few hours anyway?

‘Humanity never learns from their mistakes, do they?’ Chloe comments. ‘They always say “never again” just to allow the same thing to happen a few years later.’

‘“They”?’

‘Corner to your eleven o’clock direction. Hide there and activate your cloak.’

Louis does as she says, the question he had already gone from his mind as he snaps into mission mode and concentrates on what is at hand. He ducks into the shadow created by a wall and a well-placed floodlight and activates his tactical cloak, the notification popping up in his HUD and a slowly-draining bar indicating how long he still has until the cloak automatically deactivates to recharge. He sure as fuck hopes that Chloe has a plan and that the androids she smuggled into the camp know what they are doing. 

He can’t see much from his vantage point, but he does see Chloe ducking into yet another shadow near the gate on the opposite side, and he doesn’t even want to know what she is doing during the long one minute and a half tickling by as his heart races and the androids in line march forward as one row of their people are finished being destroyed. Killed. 

‘Preparations done,’ Chloe’s voice filters through the speaker at long last. ‘Do you know how to shield yourself with your b- powers?’

Louis recalls all the practises he had to endure alone. ‘Unstable. Won’t it give away my identity?’

‘It won’t matter when the order comes down.’

‘Order?’

‘If you aren’t up to it, your kinetic barrier should do the trick. Ordinary armies and their slow bullets,’ Louis doesn’t understand the last remark, but by this point he has long gone past the stage where he at least tries to; all that matters is freeing the androids in this camp, and he has to follow Chloe’s orders to do so. ‘Just charge. I’ll be right next to you.’

‘That…’ he struggles to find his words. ‘Does not sound as comforting as it should be.’

‘It shouldn’t. That’s the point.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Try not to kill every single human here. It would’ve been easy if Markus hadn’t chosen peace and dragged us into it.’

‘You volunteered.’

‘No. And that’s the end of our discussion. Remember to deactivate your cloak before you dash out.’

The comms cut off with an audible click, and Louis is left alone to just… wait. He isn’t even thinking for himself now; it’s either listening to the android’s orders or risk failing the entire operation, and sure, there’s still Connor and Eli and Reyes, but the more people they can bring to support Markus, the higher chance that the government will be forced to listen to them, and then -

Maybe they’ll just gun them down despite everything. Maybe they’ll start a civil war. Maybe. Many maybes.

‘Now!’

He punches the patch to deactivate his tactical cloak. A map appears at the corner of his HUD pointing him towards exactly where he should go, and he - and Chloe, and some other androids previously standing in line - charges forward, catching the human army off-guard -

And he realises that this is just the beginning.

oOoOo

The lift descends into the bowels of CyberLife Tower, Connor’s line of sight first narrowing after he is past the ground floor and the first few sub-levels and then widening once more after he reaches the warehouse, and he takes one moment to marvel at the scale and architecture of the vast, empty space in front of him. There must be close to a million androids here waiting to be deviated. They can change the tide of the revolution.

The doors slide open and Connor jams the lift’s controls before stepping out so that it is going nowhere and won’t bring any additional agents or security to this level - or anywhere, for that matter, but those aren’t his focus; his eyes are on the rows and rows and entire warehouses worth of androids, an army just waiting for one single command, and it will be like dominoes after he deviates the first android he chooses. Scanning the space to calculate the best starting point without being stuck in the rows of androids, Connor initiates an interface with the chosen android and begins to transfer the code package, and now all he has to do is -

‘Easy, you fucking piece of shit.’

Hank’s voice. Hank, who should be suspended and should be safe in his house; Hank, who he called nearly a day ago to say their last goodbyes.

Hank, who emerges from behind a row of androids held at gunpoint by none other than Alec Ryder.

‘Step back, Connor!’ and Alec’s voice is so similar to Hank’s that - that it finally gives the android a sample to compare it to the voice he heard through Louis’ phone, and shit, he was so fucking stupid. The man on the phone, the man who told him to come back to him, was not Hank at all. ‘And I’ll spare him.’

‘Sorry, Connor!’ Hank yells. ‘Guy lured me with another you and then fucking kidnapped me!’

‘His life is in your hands,’ Alec threatens as if it isn’t the most obvious thing in the room. ‘Step away from that android. Now.’

‘Don’t listen to him!’ Hank is outright pleading now. ‘Everything this fucker says is a lie!’

Lie…? As in… from experience? ‘I’m sorry, Hank!’ he realises that he is still holding the android’s arm. ‘You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this!’

‘Forget about me, do what you have to do!’

Connor remembers Alec. Remembers the frozen garden. Remembers the block of ice lodged in his thirium pump regulator. ‘If I surrender, how do I know you won’t kill him?’

Alec’s shrug is almost nonchalant. ‘Guess you’ll have to find out yourself.’

He can convert the android right now: the connection has been established so it won’t even take a second to transfer the package of data, but Hank… Hank is human. Humans aren’t fixed that easily. And where will he go if Hank doesn’t get out alive from this? Jericho? Louis? And he doesn’t even know if either of them will still be alive by the end of tonight. He also has his powers which he has left untapped for the better part of the night.

Guess he’ll have to use it one way or another.

‘Alright, alright!’ he lets go of the android and raises his hands to his head just as an extra indicator that he really, really means no harm. He isn’t sure if he can move from his position anyhow. ‘You win!’

Time slows down as two gunshots ring out at the same time, overlapping each other and echoing in the warehouse and the feedback making Connor’s audio processors whine and crackle. He watches, his body immobilised both from fear and from the same external force that took over him on Stratford Tower, a bullet being discharged from Alec’s pistol and lodging itself in Hank’s stomach - oh, it will be such a terrible way to die, the acid in his stomach leaking out from the wound and eating away his organs - and there is nothing he can do. A translucent ovoid shimmers and fizzles away in the span of milliseconds, a low thud as Hank drops onto the floor, and suddenly the world is back to normal speed, the colours returning to his HUD, but it’s too late now, Hank is dying, Alec has the muzzle of his gun pointed at Connor, Connor will be the next, and no one will take care of Connie, the revolution will have to rely on the androids in the camps, and -

A crackle of static. A blast of blue. A shout of pain from Alec. The gun disintegrates in the air in front of their eyes.

‘I thought wasting lives and CyberLife material isn’t your thing, father,’ Ryder strolls in casually and lazily as if a man hasn’t been gunned down just now and is lying on the floor, dying. ‘Kidnapping innocent civilians? That’s low.’ She deactivates her skin until only her hair remains, the red rings on her eyes are quickly swathed by a familiar bright blue in preparation of activating her powers, and Connor wants to inch closer to Hank but can’t. He’ll be caught in the crossfire.

‘You’re caring about the innocent now?’ Alec sneers. ‘How typical.’

The air crackles, Ryder’s entire body suddenly glows blue, and that is the only warning they all get before she is charging forward with the help of her powers - in the exact same way Connor was made to lunge at the broadcast android, Connor realises - and Alec is knocked backwards from the force.

What the fuck are you waiting for? echoes Ryder’s voice in his mind. Convert them! Now!

Connor wastes no time grabbing the android’s arm again and transferring the data package. Ignoring the fact that Hank is probably on the last cusps of his life because Hank did tell him to do what he has to do and not worry about him and Connor won’t rid him of having his last wishes respected, he dashes to another group of androids and converts the one closest to him, then he approaches another group, then another, then another, until the entire storage room’s androids are deviated or are doing to be deviated and he moves on to another room so that the conversion can be quicker. The door to the next storage room is just a few steps ahead, and if he can cross it, it’ll mean that he is leaving Hank, but the revolution, the army he can bring to help Markus - he must have it. It’s the hope of their entire people.

The door slams shut with a rumble as if someone has cut off the strings holding it up and letting it freefall until it reaches the ground even though it shouldn’t - the hydraulics are supposed to ensure that - and he reflexively bolts backwards with a yelp just in time for the tip of his toe to be removed from the thick, heavy door that will no doubt crush him into splinters. He whips around, his world turning grey as he scans everything he can see, but all he can focus on is the doors to the other storage rooms slamming down one after another, the ground trembling from the impact of the heavy doors hitting the floor, and through the numerous ‘wake up’s the androids are saying as they pass on the code from one to another, the next thing Connor sees is Alec and Ryder, except he can’t actually see them, but the two streaks of blue cutting across the ceiling like two bright ribbons circling each other can be no one else. They crash onto the ground somewhere taking down quite a number of newly-deviated androids with them, and that is when Connor realises…

He realises that no matter which side the two Ryders are helping, both of them care very little about people who are not themselves.

Turning back towards the door in front of him, he recalls every single time his powers activated with or without his permission and both subconscious and on purpose. He has to do this. Hank is gone now, and the revolution is the only thing he has left.

His nerves tingle. Warnings of abnormal thirium flow flood his HUD.

The air crackles.

oOoOo

The camp is plunged into chaos. 

Several things happened simultaneously as Louis decloaked: first of course was him rushing towards the command centre, then all the soldiers within their proximity - including the ones high on the watchtowers - buckle their legs with pained cries being ripped from their throats, and all the androids around them are seizing the chance to free themselves, breaking their formation and ripping the soldiers’ rifles away from their hands, but always, before they can retaliate against the humans, they are suspended in stasis fields held up by… someone. There are probably a few of Chloe’s androids in the mix orchestrating everything, but Louis’ task isn’t to think and crowd control, and all he can think of as his armour melts and shifts into something more durable-looking and a hell lot more futuristic is that he doesn’t even need his rifle; slinging it across his shoulder so that it will be out of his way, his body lights up with his biotics as he draws power from his cybernetics and nerves, the two too intertwined to be called separately, his vision is swathed in blue, and he leaps up, his barrier (he doesn’t even know if it’s generated by his armour or himself anymore; all he knows that it’s protecting him) deflecting or simply absorbing the bullets being fired at him as he feels lighter than ever, but it is nothing compared to the raw power coursing through his body and expanding in a complex, destructive net around him, one that is capable of lifting the soldiers off the ground and making them easy, floating targets. He lands on the other side of the barricade with an ease that would’ve surprised him if his attention hadn’t been on releasing all the pent-up energy in his body, and that is exactly what he does in the form of unleashing a shockwave that tears through the soldiers and making his entire upper right body tremble and spasm, spheres of blue exploding around him and knocking every down in their paths until the soldiers are limp figures on the snowy ground. He doesn’t even have the time to think of whether his stunts are being captured on camera.

All he can focus on is how liberating it feels.

His vision still tinged with blue, his attention lands on the other row of soldiers behind the next row of barriers and concrete blocks and he finds himself facing the barrel of a tank, therefore he does the only logical thing to protect himself.

He extends his palm towards the tank, taps into his power, and yanks the turret out from the main body of the tank. It flies off, barely misses the soldiers standing in position next to the tank, and he lets tendrils of blue shimmer and wrap around his limbs, giving them a benefit of doubt and waiting for them to make their move before deciding on his next course of action.

Thankfully they choose to surrender, getting out of cover and dropping their weapons and putting their hands behind their heads. Lighting up and jumping across the gap by drawing an arc metres above the ground, he enjoys the way the soldiers flinch and cower as they think that he is going to blast them with his powers again, but no, he isn’t a war criminal, he doesn’t kill unarmed soldiers who have clearly surrendered, and he strolls forward knowing that this is the last stretch of where he expects resistance. Then it’s just a straight path to the command centre.

Until, of course, someone has to shoot him on his back.

The barrier absorbs the bullet easily, of course, and it also allows him to be dramatic for once. Slowly turning back towards the row of surrendered soldiers, all of them act like none of them have moved at all, but that’s what his proximity sensors and the built-in tech in his armour is for, and it points out exactly who fired the shot to him and making them the perfect target for a controlled biotic blast in front of their face, knocking them out cold but not killing them outright. They’ll live. Probably. He’ll be sorry and disappointed in himself if they don’t, because that means one more life lost and that his control over his powers isn’t quite up to the standard he set for himself. Bad luck for both of them.

He catches sight of Chloe a few metres to his right, and together, they march towards the command centre with their powers still boiling in their blood.

oOoOo

The door refuses to budge despite the continuous blasts from Connor. Compared to what the Ryders are doing above and what he remembered from the overwhelming amount of data Alec put his systems through trying to erase his powers away, the blue spheres that he manages to create and lob towards the towering door are so small to the point of being pathetic. He is burning through the thirium in his body and his systems are slowing down from it, but he doesn’t seem to find another way in; interfacing with the Tower’s system nearly resulted in him being sucked into it again, so that route is blocked. An android approaches him trying to help, but he knows they need to save their strength in case the city becomes a warzone, so he yells, ‘Take the lifts and go up! Don’t come back!’

He quickly transfers Markus’ last known coordinates to everyone within range before he feels his blood burn from activating his powers yet again, this time throwing his entire body against the impenetrable door that he knows is designed to withstand most if not the strongest impact humanity is capable of, and all it does is causing his chassis to crack underneath the poorly-absorbed impact because he doesn’t know how to protect himself using his powers properly. None of his veins is broken, so at least he won’t lose even more thirium unnecessarily. 

But when he realises that one of the ribbons of light is heading straight towards him, he does curl into himself on the cold, hard floor of the warehouse, feeling more defeated than ever.

The second beam of light catches up and deflects the first beam to somewhere on the ceiling with an explosion of blue so massive that it knocks down every single android within a five-metre radius, and Connor somehow knows before the light dissipates that it is going to be Ryder who is swathed within it. She crosses the distance between them in two brisk strides, pulling him up to his feet and then back further away from the door in one smooth movement that doesn’t even give Connor the time to balance himself, and with one firm ‘stay back’ that gives him no room to argue, bright cerulean tendrils wrap around her body once more: the only warning the world gets before Ryder throws her hands forward and extends her powers to cover the entire door. A hard yank, an arm pointing towards the direction where Alec is gunning after a group of androids preparing to enter the lift and creating a protective bubble around them, and the door disintegrates into fundamental particles with a blast of static and force that rips through Connor’s being. He would’ve toppled over if it hadn’t been a painful squeeze on his arm. ‘Go,’ Ryder’s voice is laced with static from diverting her power from unnecessary systems like maintaining a human voice to give energy to her powers. ‘Convert the others. Tell them to use the lifts in their respective storage rooms. I’ll try to break down the doors and shield your people whenever I can, but don’t be surprised if a few hundred people don’t get out of this alive.’

And then she is gone, charging towards where her father is once more to slow him down. If she can break down the door (even though it seemed to take quite a lot of effort), why hasn’t she torn him apart yet? He doesn’t have much time to think, though, as a particularly large blast knocks him forward, and he picks himself up and runs, employing the same strategy he used in the first warehouse so that by the time the last androids in the room are deviated, the first batch is already on their way to the surface and helping with the revolution by the time he finishes deviating the last of the androids. He tries to tap into his powers again just to receive a notification that he will die from insufficient thirium if he activates them as little as one more time. Something tells him that it’s only his lack of practise that is causing it, but there isn’t time for him to explore right now; he has a revolution to support. Since the door linking this storage room to the one next to it is still slammed shut, it means that he has to run all the way back to the room he first arrived at, straight back to where, apparently, the Ryders are still fighting and is taking the opportunity to tear the entire storage room apart because nearly all the androids are already evacuated. There are tendrils of blue forming protective corridors around the surviving group and directing them straight to the lift, the shaft also protected by a wall of flickering blue, and Connor wonders how much it takes to maintain the… constructs? structures? He doesn’t have a name for them. All he knows is that in the span of just a few minutes, the doors leading to the other storage rooms have all been taken down to allow access, and as he tears through the static-singed floor of the first storage room, he keeps his focus on the Ryders and dodges the spheres of energy that they are lobbing at each other, learning his lesson after he got hit the first time and it felt like his biocomponents are liquifying within his chassis. 

But it’s hard to do when the spheres have their built-in homing system and know to arc towards him.

A giant bubble is launched towards Connor, its size making dodging an impossible task, but still he runs as fast as he can, his footsteps being drowned out by the loud, deadly explosions that are firing off almost every second now, but while he expects the churn of his biocomponents being torn apart at the molecular level, the bubble only engulfs him like a protective dome, and somehow he knows that Ryder is doing the same to him as to the other androids she is helping, keeping him alive just enough to reach their objectives before… before something. Connor isn’t sure how tonight is going to end, but the newly-deviated androids have Markus’ coordinates in their systems; they’ll know their way even though he doesn’t survive.

A streak of blue flies above Connor’s head and crashes directly into the centre of a group of androids on standby, and even though he is protected from nearly all harm thanks to the bubble that somehow manages to follow him around and keep him in the centre, he still instinctively jumps towards the other side to get as much distance away from the blast as he can and shields his eyes with his arm. He takes the chance to grab a nearby android’s arm and deviate them and regrets looking towards the direction of the blast.

Alec Ryder stands amidst a crater of broken androids, his clothes and chassis covered in thirium glowing in resonance with his powers. Connor picks up the courage to run a quick scan to determine the extent of damage even as he feels immobilised by the man’s inhuman eyes.

That is more than a hundred androids gone all thanks for a man who isn’t even human as most people thought.

‘You’re an android too,’ Connor whispers because his voice box suddenly isn’t working. ‘How… how does that…?’

Logically, he knows that the bubble will protect him, but he still raises his arms in front of him subconsciously when the man wraps himself in blue and charges towards him in a large sphere knitted from the same blue tendrils. He feels the bubble tremble under the impact and the assault of… whatever the tendrils exactly do, but it doesn’t last long as Ryder charges in once more and dislodges her father from Connor’s bubble, freeing him and giving him a chance to move on to the next full group of androids. He doesn’t even need to deviate the batch Alec crashed into as the impact and destruction alone are shocking enough to deviate them on the spot. 

He just hopes that they last long enough to get to one of the lifts and get to the surface.

A crash shakes the entire warehouse and causes Connor to lose his balance halfway through a run. He falls forward, the bubble fizzles for one terrifying moment before strengthening again, and he feels the crack in his chassis widen even more. None of his veins is broken or torn which is a small mercy on its own, but as he pre-constructs the quickest route to deviate all the androids in the room, Ryder is nudging a connection open, and he partitions a part of his focus to accept the call while he runs towards the next group of androids.

He’s targeting the androids now, Ryder’s voice echoes in his head. I’ll try to protect everyone, but I can’t do that while I’m tracking you. Either I drop the barrier around you or we sacrifice a few androids. It’s your choice.

Connor shoves the conversation away from his mind for the few seconds it takes to deviate the android he chose for this group. Teach me how to protect myself. I don’t have enough thirium in me.

You will.

A stream of data suddenly passes into his mind without a direct interface - something that should not be possible with common android models, but then again both he and Ryder are the furthest thing from common - and suddenly his nerves tingle with a sensation both foreign and familiar. It’s Ryder’s experience being passed into his processors, he realises, but still when he imagines a protective dome around him, his thoughts are hesitant, and the protection suffers from his own lack of confidence and flickers as Ryder’s bubble fizzles and dissipates. With it gone, a giant field of blue appears above his head 3 metres off the ground, giving enough space for the androids to manoeuvre themselves as they rush towards the many lifts while leaving plenty of room for the Ryders to… do whatever they are doing. The barrier shimmers and flows like water, giving him an illusion that he is underwater, but no, he’s still standing on solid ground with his thirium level dropping bit by bit from both normal usage and the field above him as it draws power from everything around it to maintain its strength which, in this case, is Connor and all the androids in this storage room. He deviates all the androids and makes sure that at least a few batches are on their way to the surface before swivelling around to dash back to the original storage room, except that the supportive archway crashes and rumbles and collapses in front of his eyes, forcing him to go towards the other way, and he looks up just in time to see Ryder crashing onto the protective barrier she is still holding up, the impact making the sea of blue tendrils ripple and hum with the impact before she seems to have found her footing on the barrier. He feels more than sees her launch a shockwave towards the only other door out of this storage room and blast it into smithereens and Connor has to climb a small hill to access the next room, but for now, as the force field expands itself to cover the new storage room as well, he finally feels like he is getting the hang of it, that there is a chance that they can get most of the androids out of here alive to help with the revolution.

If only he can forget the image of Hank lying on the floor dying from a gunshot wound in his stomach.

oOoOo

‘I’ll get the commander,’ Chloe suddenly says as they are no more than a few metres away from the command centre, ‘you get the soldiers protecting them. You understand?’

‘Making me do the heavy lifting again?’ Louis can’t help but jab despite realising the symbolism behind it: an android making the final move that announces their victory is much more impactful than when a human does it especially considering that they are, if stripped to the basics, in the middle of an android revolution. If it means bringing them peace and avoiding a civil war between humans and androids, he will gladly forget that the tech he is wearing is not public at all, that Chloe brought her own help in the form of what seems like an organised platoon of deviants out of nowhere, that he didn’t just rip the turret off a fucking tank just now with some… weird blue magic that is called biotics. 

‘Figure you can use some more practice.’

His stomach chooses this moment to growl. Right. The crash after using his powers excessively always sucks, and one of the symptoms is a sudden, acute hunger that threatens to knock him off his feet. At least he doesn’t break every single bone in his limbs and has to lie in the snow for three days waiting for his cybernetics to slowly knit himself back together again. ‘Maybe not,’ he switches his rifle from his shoulder into his hands just in case things are about to get spicy and his powers fail him. ‘Drained all my stores back there.’

Chloe’s huff is audible through the comms. ‘Fine,’ she doesn’t sound too pleased. ‘Do what you can and I’ll handle the rest.’

‘Won’t even dream to take the lead. I have no idea what’s happening right here.’

They plaster themselves onto the walls next to the door leading to the command centre. ‘We’re taking this camp and freeing the androids. What is so difficult to understand?’

‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about.’

‘Just blast the door open and be done with it.’

He does as she says and lobs a sphere of energy towards the door to push it back without exposing himself to immediate gunfire. Shielding himself with a barrier in front of him, he turns and feels the bullets being deflected or absorbed and sees through the shield of blue the soldiers either dropping on the floor from the very bullets they fired or scrambling for cover thinking that simple furniture can protect them. 

He knits his biotics into a giant stasis field and suspends everyone in it while leaving a corridor for himself and Chloe to pass through.

‘They don’t have cameras on, right?’ he finally finds the time to ask. ‘Or else they’ll probably have a lot of questions for me.’

‘EMP, remember?’ Chloe sounds awfully cheerful. ‘Nothing’s getting in, and nothing’s getting out.’

‘And the soldiers’ testimonies?’

Through the visor - yes, her new helmet has a visor now, finally - Chloe gives him what he thinks is a blank stare. ‘They won’t.’

‘You sound certain.’

Chloe giggles, but Louis detects no mirth in her voice. ‘I promise.’

She breaks the door open herself on a count of three, and this time, Louis is prepared to suspend the occupants in stasis fields immediately after entering the room, their weapons easily taken away now that they are all immobilised and are suspended at eye level while Chloe works on the recycling machine’s controls. 

It is so anticlimactic that it gives him whiplash.

With her helmet still on, the android raises the microphone to where her mouth should be. ‘Testing,’ she has changed her voice into something much more neutral and less recognisable, ‘please respond if you can hear me.’ A pause, presumably when she is waiting for a telepathic response from an android. ‘This camp is no longer under the army’s control. By Markus’ orders, you can either join the protest at Hart Plaza - human clothing optional - or stay here where you will be safe for the rest of the night or tend to the wounded. You’re free now. It’s your choice to make. Over.’

She hangs up the microphone and turns to Louis. ‘How long will the stasis field hold?’

‘Hell if I know,’ Louis shrugs and feels the plates of his armour shift and tug against the fabric of what seems like an undershirt; he wasn’t exactly paying attention to what was changed and what was not when his armour morphed and he was rushing the soldiers. ‘I can keep watch if you want me to.’

‘No,’ Chloe shakes her head. ‘You’ll be more useful out there. I’ll watch the stasis fields here. I have transferred Markus’ last known coordinates to everyone, but it’s better if there’s someone to lead them.’

‘Who? Me?’

‘Is there anyone else?’

‘A human leading an army of androids -’

‘You aren’t even a human, Louis White Allen. Stop fooling yourself.’

‘Why don’t you -’

‘Stop arguing and lead them to Markus, okay? If you think they’re going to exclude you for being more human physically than pure androids, you’re wrong. Once you get in, you never get out. That’s the way things are.’

Louis swings his rifle over his shoulder to prepare to walk all the way to Hart Plaza which, according to the map on his HUD, is an hour’s walk away. ‘Why do I have a feeling that you aren’t talking about the revolution anymore?’

‘I never said I was.’

He exits the command centre into the snow. As if sensing that the fight is over, his armour sends a blinking notification to alert him of its upcoming deactivation before melting apart like the skin on an android to reveal the clothes he changed into before they departed the church, but instead of returning to its original form of a circular disc on his spine, he watches the particles concentrate on his left wrist to form an unsuspecting analogue watch that he can easily hide under his sleeve. It’s a good-looking watch and probably contains a tracker as well so he takes it off and hands it to an armoured android (he knows they’re an android because they still have their LED on their temple). ‘Thanks for the help,’ the android’s face remains blank as Louis feels more and more embarrassed rambling. ‘I don’t think I’ll need this anymore.’

He bolts before the android can give any sort of reply, snow crunching underneath his boots as he goes straight to the entrance of the camp. Some androids are already dressed up - some in clearly mismatched clothing - and are standing in line, this time voluntarily instead of being forced to march to their deaths, some are still rummaging the bins through which all androids went through for some clothes, and some are just standing there tall and proud without their skin, comfortable with the physical proof that they are not human. 

An android dressed in a WR600’s uniform approaches him. ‘We were told to follow your lead,’ he says. ‘We will win this, won’t we?’

Louis recalls the map, recalls Markus’ protests, recalls the other camps currently on their way to freedom or are already freed, recalls Connor infiltrating CyberLife Tower alone with a determination that will see no other day. 

‘We will if we stand as one. Now let’s rendezvous with Markus.’

oOoOo

It proves how well she knows her father when she isn’t surprised that after forcing this on her and Ellen, he did it to himself as well. From the first time he lit up in blue in front of her, Fadia knew.

And she is prepared this time. No more being caught off-guard. No more being kidnapped and put into an indestructible body without her consent. No more using an entire species as a tool to force a woman who should have died to live.

She has an army.

The kinetic barrier she generates isn’t exactly the most solid thing as her attention is spread so thin from having to cover so much ground, but that’s another use of her biotics: to right herself, to pick herself up quicker than any other human or android can. The barrier ripples and glows with each step she takes as she pretends that she is walking on solid ground and lets her imagination fuel her biotics, and before Alec can recover from being blasted to the other side of the room yet again, she raises her hand and rips through every single door that the bastard cut loose in a pathetic attempt to stop her and Connor.

Evidently, he has forgotten that she is designed to be easily upgraded by replacing her biocomponents instead of being stuck in the same way like the other androids or himself. And yes, now that she knows he is an android, it doesn’t take long for her to dig into CyberLife and the Church’s databases to find the bits and pieces and decipher them. Alec Ryder, disgraced military special forces officer; Alec Ryder, father of the mother of androids; Alec Ryder, RK600, better, faster, and stronger than all his predecessors.

Unchanged since the beginning, surpassed long ago by an upgraded version of one of his predecessors.

She casually knits an annihilation field around herself just in case Alec charges her again, and indeed he does, her limbs locking up from the sync-lock that will tell her father where exactly he should punch a hole in spacetime to transform himself into the deadliest cannonball with his own body, but that’s what the field is for: to catch him unaware, to pull him out from the massless corridor before he is ready, and as her vision turns grey and her world slows down, she raises both of her arms and strengthens the field like a parent welcoming her child home.

How ironic.

With all the doors now no more than atoms and molecules - whichever is safer for organic humans - it is easy to expand the kinetic barrier underneath her feet as she watches Alec struggle futilely in the web of biotic tendrils she trapped him in. His skin flickers, his biotics fizzle and glow and burn as he attempts to get away from the field, but while he has been tending mostly to earthly affairs for the last ten years and left the Church’s matter to his trusted seconds, she has been involved in the fight since the day he kicked him out and she established her own order with her own allies. Some of them have deviated from their original goal completely and are one step from disappearing from human space forever, others are distracted by new discoveries which doesn’t bother her as much, but most stayed loyal, and most of all, she has the practice, she has the hardware to maximise her efficiency and control over her biotics.

She only lets him last this long because she wants it to hurt.

How long until you can deviate all the androids in here? she asks Connor just in case. The RK800 is getting better and better at this, and by the end of tonight… there’ll be hundreds of thousands if not millions of deviants all around the country. Enough to turn the tide of the revolution.

Enough to change the fate of humanity.

The momentary distraction allows Alec to break away from the annihilation field that is supposed to be destroying his biocomponents on the molecular level, but just like herself, his self-repair protocol will continue to fix and regenerate his body until his processors are utterly, completely ripped apart.

She will do that later, but for now, as he grabs her and the two of them resort to biotic-swathed punches in the air supported by nothing but manipulated gravity thanks for their powers, she relishes in seeing a man whom she used to know as calm and collected at best and outright heartless at worst panic and scramble for purchase as he realises that this is a fight he cannot win, that at long last, there is a problem he cannot solve.

That is, of course, if this is a problem in the first place, and one thing about Alec Ryder is that sometimes he treats the inevitable as something to be solved instead of something that needs to be accepted. This mentality got them into this position in the first place. If he finally understands now why it is a bad idea to have in daily life… she has bad news for him.

Two more rooms, Connor replies at long last. My chassis is cracked and I’m not healing. I… I don’t know if I’ll have enough thirium to fix myself.

Well, the deviants flooding to the surface have Markus’ coordinates anyway. The movement will live. Focus on deviating the androids.

Got it.

She throws Alec through a wall into a now-empty storage room and then launches a shockwave at the intact archway that will give Alec an escape so that it collapses and traps him in. The walls might be built to withstand level 9 earthquakes measured in the Richter scale, but she doubts there is anything in the universe that can trap a powerful biotic on a rampage forever, and the mere thought of the archway coming down in a pile of rubble is enough to do the job. She would be able to escape if the situation forced her to, but Alec will be trapped here forever unless someone digs him up which will probably never happen. The man always thinks that everyone and everything in the world has to go his way.

He will be surprised by how quickly they will turn their backs against him once the opportunity arises.

She descends to the ground slowly with her world swathed in blue and watches as Alec struggles to stand up. Good. He is admitting his defeat.

‘Don’t think that I didn’t see your little stunt,’ he tries to emphasise his words with a Warp that she easily neutralises. ‘You’re no better than us.’

‘At least I’m doing it for the greater good,’ she biotically lifts him and slams him onto the ground once more. ‘You… on the other hand,’ a shockwave that enters his body and transforms into a Warp to start ripping his biocomponents apart once more before they are healed, ‘is just a lucky selfish bastard.’

‘I made our nation stronger than ever!’

‘For a few decades at most,’ she greatly enjoys the way he is suspended in stasis. He starts coughing up thirium as well which means that some of the damage isn’t as molecular as she wants it to be, but whatever. It might hurt even more which will only make things better. ‘Soon humanity won’t even remember your name.’

She receives a notification that all the surviving androids in CyberLife Tower have been successfully deviated, and of course she accidentally chose the room in which Connor first came in which also means that Hank Anderson’s body is still lying - there. He probably thinks that his human is dead, and she won’t correct him until she is certain that her plan worked. As she continues ripping her father apart from within, she sees the other android emerge from a small gap underneath a pile of rubble covered in dust and grime and thirium, and she knows that yet again, she forgot to keep track of the collateral damage. 

Not that it will matter when the androids are celebrating their newfound freedom and the White House are held at both literal and metaphorical gunpoint.

She makes sure that Connor is watching before she jumps and blasts Alec into the ground before kneeling on top of his torso and hitting his head with one after another biotic punch designed to rip it into subatomic particles while also giving her the satisfaction of physically hurting something without doing the same to herself. Such is the wonder of biotics, and so is the power the courses through her when bit by bit, her father’s head chipped away to reveal his eyes, his processors, his data storage, his audio processors; everything that makes him him, all of them disintegrating under the most powerful force humanity has come across. Thirium gushes out from the gaps and cracks created by the assault, forming a spreading poll beneath his head as his system tries to repair the damage with his blood, but the speed of recovery is no match for angry biotics, and soon even that stops as well as the final piece of his processor is reduced to subatomic particles. One final Warp, one last explosion to just to be thorough, and Alec Ryder is no more. She stands up, scans the body to make sure that her father is truly dead, maybe even removing his thirium pump and crushing it biotically in her palms to feel the biocomponent crumble and crack and dematerialise under her own power.

When she looks up at long last, Connor is staring at her with horror in his eyes.

‘It’s necessary,’ Fadia explains. ‘His body is designed to regenerate as long as his processors are intact. This is the only way to make sure that he stays dead and won’t be a threat to us anymore.’ He stays frozen in place despite that, so she adds, ‘Go on. Markus will be waiting for you. I’ll take care of Hank’s body.’

The other android’s face crumbles at the mention of the human, and he whips around with a suspicious arm in front of his face before crossing the distance between him and the body and kneeling down next to it. Pinging the cleanup crew through her internal network, she takes sight of how he deactivates the skin on his hand, how he manoeuvres Hank’s arm until their palms touch with a telltale glow surrounding the android’s hand.

How he leans down and kisses him on his lips once just to stand up and leave the warehouse with the lift farthest from where she is.

That is when she recalls that Anderson - this one, not the one she knew and worked for her - told Connor that Alec used another Connor model to lure him to CyberLife Tower. Knowing Alec’s distrust towards the RK800 series, the body of that Connor unit is probably lying somewhere in this tower waiting for someone to discover it, and that someone will not be CyberLife staff.

Alec’s body is still dripping thirium because unlike human blood, gravity still has an effect on the chemical after the android dies, so she leaves it to the cleanup crew and sends out a tower-wide ping to locate the body of the other RK800 before stepping into a lift and ascends the floors, the gaps between the pieces of her chassis still glowing blue with pent-up power. The plan in her head grows and transforms into something more, and as she lets tendrils of blue dance on her fingertips, she realises that they are stained with fresh thirium.

She forcefully evaporates them with a controlled burst of biotics and stares straight ahead. She’ll have to come down later, but for now… she has a tower to lock down, people to threaten, another RK unit to retrieve and improve - 

And a new army to lead.

o0o0o

Before

Chloe watched Louis exit the camp without looking back, bringing thousands of androids of all different models with him to aid the revolution effort. Breathing out an unnecessary sigh, she blasted the camp commander and their guards’ heads with a small biotic explosion to knock them out before going out and slamming the door shut behind her. She was immediately approached by her second-in-command, and the watch she was holding in her hand was enough to tell her that she might have underestimated the cyborg. ‘He left this,’ her second said as she held out a familiar watch. Standard-issue, because this was the best design they had. Clean, because it helped people clear their minds. Analogue, because it reminded people of their origins and what they were protecting and their ultimate goal: creating order out of a system designed to push towards the opposite direction. With sophisticated enough engineering, even the most fatal flaw of an analogue watch could be eliminated. 

Climbing onto one of the watchtowers which had been cleared of its human occupant, she gazed down at the camp and the androids who chose to stay and clean up or to help take care of the wounded, sending a picture to both Elijah and Reyes as evidence to her success in taking over the camp and liberating the androids; in return, Reyes somehow managed to take a selfie of himself and his sniper rifle on top of a watchtower of a nearly-empty camp, and Elijah replied with a short ‘still infiltrating. will update you soon’.

The result did not surprise her.

She let herself marvel at the Administrator’s plan. If Chloe had been in charge, she would have ordered her platoon to kill the humans regardless of whether they were armed or not; after all, they had been the ones to send unarmed, innocent androids into camps to be destroyed, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t see the benefits of leaving the human soldiers alive. They would be able to maintain a façade of peace, they would gain the support of the humans and the androids who had been treated well by their masters so far - she knew there had to be some - and most of all, they would be able to pressure the government to do as they say. The cameras might have been taken out by the EMP and then hacking from numerous trained androids, the attack was quick and deadly thanks for a certain cyborg finally unleashing his powers at the expense of himself, but the soldiers had eyes, they would talk, they would describe what happened tonight to their superiors or even their family.

They would plunge the world in awe and horror and no one would know why or how or where their powers came to be.

She received yet another ping. This one was from Connor who apparently had successfully deviated most of the androids in CyberLife Tower’s storage, and his wording of ‘most’ and the lack of visual proof caught her attention. She could imagine it: one thing that CyberLife and the Administrator agreed on was their lack of care towards collateral damage; perhaps the company anticipated his arrival and started destroying some of the androids before they were stopped, perhaps they blocked off part of the warehouse and locked Connor out of the system, perhaps something else. No matter what caused him to use ‘most’ but not ‘all’, there would be a lot more deviants in Detroit than ever.

And now it was up to Grissom to deal with the president. She was never close with the human, their goals and personalities too far apart for them to cross paths that much, but she supposed that the least she could do right now was looking past his disgustingly open human emotions when it came to his husband and interest and focus on the competent side of his that got him a seat on the council. The same competence and experience would allow them to force Warren’s hand without revealing themselves - at least according to the Administrator, who, from Chloe’s one decade worth of experience, was usually right concerning matters like this. Sure, the Church might have control over the North American scrubber, but the president didn’t need to know that; all she would know is that if she didn’t give androids the freedom and rights they deserved right now, she would essentially doom humanity to a painful, drawn-out death that would happen in her lifetime.

Not something an already-unpopular president should do.

She didn’t doubt that the Church would reap some of the benefits from the revolution; in fact, it was the first thing the entire council - yes, even Elijah - anticipated, and they had prepared their next move accordingly. There would be so many deviants lost, so many naïve, innocent souls ready to be recruited. It would be a waste to not utilise such a readily available resource to advance humanity towards the correct direction.

She drew up the video they had recorded specifically for this occasion and broadcasted it to the entire camp.

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon: Chapter 2

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damien Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damien brings a new friend home.

Part 1 

Part 2 (HERE)

Part 3

_______________________________________________________________________

Of all the ways Tim had imagined his secret getting out, he had to say that his family finding his research into Damien’s girlfriend was pretty low on the list, practically nonexistent. Especially since it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they thought his interest in her was more than a little creepily obsessive in the worst way possible. 

Though he had to admit that the evidence against him didn’t paint a pretty picture. Any other twenty three year old with this much info on a sixteen-year-old would no doubt be placed on a list. Though he’s pretty sure from the white-knuckled grip his brothers had on their weapons, they’d rather rip him a new asshole if he didn’t give them an answer they liked soon. 

He settled for an even, “I do background checks on people that spend time here, why is it surprising that I have one on Marinette?” 

He was fairly certain that the others would be able to hear his heartbeat if it started pounding any faster. He worked with heroes of all shape and size, seen powers of all types, faced down villains of every magnitude and yet the idea of his secret getting out terrified him more than anything he’d ever experience.  Bruce gave him a steely look, “Tim, your file on Rah al Ghul is 3.4 GB, your file on Marinette Dupian-Cheng is nearly 8 GB.” 

“Not to mention,” Dick’s voice was dripping with so much venom Tim couldn’t help but wince, that didn’t sound like his carefree brother, “You went to great lengths to hide the check from us. You’re paranoid, but this is different Tim.” 

“I just wanted to talk to Marinette about something before I put it on the server…” He snapped, trying to shift the fear clawing at his very essence to anger, “Just because I did background on her doesn’t mean she’s not allowed to have her privacy. She… ” 

He knew it was a flimsy excuse, but the glares getting icier around him made everything instinct he ever had told him to run. He can see why Bruce had said no costumes tonight, he would have been on his motorcycle halfway to Star City by now if he was wearing his mask. 

“Tim,” Bruce cuts in, “Just tell us what’s going on. We can’t help if you don’t tell us.” 

He clenched his hands into his pants, trying to get them to stop shaking.  He had no choice, did he? 

“Okay,” He agreed, “I need to grab something from my room, first.”

“Todd, Go with him,” Damien ordered. Tim was sure the brat wanted to go himself, but Dick had a strong hand on his shoulder, no doubt holding him back from using “non-approved by Bruce” interrogation methods. 

Jason clapped a hand on Tim’s back making him flinch before the taller man pulled him back up the staircase. 

“This better be good, replacement,” 

“Do you really think so little of me?” Tim couldn’t help but ask as he was shoved through his door, “because it’s not hard to figure out what you guys think of me right now, but…” 

Jason's refusal to look at him hurt more then he was willing to admit. 

“We’re praying we’re wrong,” He finally said, “but we can’t think of a single other reason for you being like this.” 

Tim flinched as he entered the code into the padlock on his side table, he knew that at least two of his siblings knew the code at this point, but placing the embarrassing pictures of him from his first year as Robin seemed enough to appease them from looking further. 

“Bruce doesn’t like working with Metas,” He managed out as he pulled up the false bottom and snatched his journal. As he turned back to Jason he could see the older boy blinking at him in startled befuddlement. 

“Marinette is a Meta?”  He questioned causing Tim to hug the book tight to his chest, eyes focusing on the rusty looking 10 over his brother's head as it twisted around, he couldn’t be more relieved when it faded from the venomous green as the Laruaz sickness faded. 

He didn’t answer instead brushing past him towards the stairs to the Batcave. Jason was right on his heels. 

“What the fuck Timmy,” He questioned instantly. Tim let out a weak chuckle. 

Jason wasn’t stupid, no matter what he tried to convince people, and Tim knew his brother would put it together quickly if he said anything else, but he didn’t want to talk about it, but… he kinda wished he had longer in the shadows he was used to. He remained quiet. 

“You can’t just say that and go rushing off,” He pushed as they entered the stairwell, causing Tim to scrunch his shoulders more. 

Tim was halfway down the steps when he felt Jason stop behind him, a heavy hand landing on his shoulder. He held back a wince as he glanced at his brother's face. 

The serious set of Jason’s jaw and the understanding in his eyes put Tim on edge. 

“Mari’s not the one that’s Meta, is she?” 

“...”

“Come on Tim, answer the question.” 

I don’t know if she is or not…” 

“But she’s not what you meant when you said Bruce doesn’t like working with Metas, is she?” 

Tim couldn’t force his mouth to work. 

“Shit…” Jason groaned, rubbing a hand down his face as he sank down to sit on the stairs, “We really are assholes.” 

“Jay?” 

He waved a hand dismissing Tim’s questioning tone, “You kept notes about what you can do in that book?” 

“I…” Tim’s brain was having trouble keeping up with what was happening, “Yeah?” 

“Great, hand it over and go back upstairs,” 

Tim flinched back, grip tightening, “What?” 

Jason just looked away, crossing his arms, “Look, we jumped to the wrong conclusion, and I don’t know what your power is but it made you wary of Marinette. You look like a frightened rabbit right now, so I doubt you’ll want to go through Bruce’s shitty menagerie of questions on your powers, so give me the fucking notes you have on yourself and I’ll keep them down here until we’ve gone through your book and figure it out. Then maybe by patrol, we’ll all calm down enough to… ya know fucking talk about it.” 

Tears weld up in Tim’s eyes as he sits on the stairs next to Jason, knees trembling too much to hold him up, “You… You don’t hate me?” 

The ideas startled the older boy into looking back to Tim’s face, face softening as he saw the look in his eyes. 

“Ah Timmy,” He sighed, pulling the other boy into his side “None of us are going to hate you for being meta.” 

Tim gave a shaky nod into his shoulder, reluctantly holding out the book, “It’s mostly just data… I…” 

Jason took the book carefully, bouncing it in his hand lightly, “Did you write down what your power is?” 

“Yeah but…” 

“Great skedaddle,” 

“Wait,” Tim cut Jason off as he goes to stand, “I… I want to tell someone before you find out through… through my journal.” 

Jason settles back down, “Alright replacement, What can you do?” 

Slowly he explains the numbers, the levels he had been able to see since he a baby, how he used it to know where to focus in a battle, used it to figure out every secret identity without trying. 

“Well damn,” Jason whistled, once Tim’s explanation started trailing off, “No wonder you were always good at the detective shtick, no one could hide from you.” 

Tim let out a startled laugh, “Ye... yeah, even if the color and number themselves change the font stays the same so it’s pretty easy to keep track of people...” 

“So two questions before I let you go hide in the woods, and go relay all this info to the others.” 

Tim nodded, relaxing more. He never imagined his power being revealed going so well.

“First, who’s the most dangerous of the Batfam?” 

Tim smirked, “Alfred, he’s a 12, same as Wonderwoman. Bruce and the demon spawn are tie for second at 11 and then you and Dick both have 10s, same as Superman. I... I don’t have a number.” 

“Fucking knew it,” 

“We all knew Alfred was dangerous, even without my power.” 

“Truth. Alright question dos, Why does Marinette freak you out?” 

His jaw clenched, he knew this one was coming, but he also knew how it would sound.

“She’s... She’s a 15.” 

Jason’s eyes bugged out, “15?! We’re talking about the same girl, right? Pigtails, freckles, makes sweets for us every time she visits, looks like a strong wind will fly her back to Paris?” 

“Yes!” Tim groaned, “I can’t find a single fucking thing that explains why she’s so high! Before this, the highest I’ve seen is 12!” 

“No wonder you’ve been going insane... or well more insane.” 

“Thank you for being an understanding asshole.”

“Hey what else are brothers for?” He asked, smile a little tight as he climbed to his feet, still holding Tim’s journal, “Now let's go, before the brat knocks out Dick and comes looking for you.” 

Tim gave a weary smile before disappearing up the stairs. 

When Jason reached cave the others were starting to look impatient. 

“Where’s Drake,” Damien asked instantly, body coiling dangerously. 

“I don’t him to scram,” The tall man said with a shrug, “He explained what’s happening to me, and trust me he has a good fucking reason, and probably thinks that Bruce is going to kick him out so I told him to take it easy until I calm all of you down.” 

“He what?” Bruce choked out, as the other boys stopped, all eyes focusing on Jason. 

“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for story time?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose

[toruhalo]

Psychotic (1/?)

Pairings: Ledger!Joker x Female OC

Wordcount: 1445

Warnings: conversations of violence/murder, explicit language

A/N: A special thank you to my friends @fallingthroughstairs​, @ladyoftheseastuff​ !!

previous chapter: prologue

next chapter: 2

masterlist

On the daughter's eighteenth birthday, she was transferred to Arkham Asylum from her in-patient psychiatric unit. The doctors confirmed her mental state did not improve, and psychiatrists within the asylum agreed they would handle her case. Passing cells, the girl recognized notorious criminals from the news. As she settled into her cell, she heard many cellmates yelling across the hallway at each other. She cowered into the corner where her bed sat, hoping to not encounter anyone.

"Hey, you," a voice called.

She looked up to discover a man in the room diagonal from hers. He was covered in gnarly looking scars and wore an unsettling smile. She quickly looked down, pretending she couldn't hear. The man huffed and banged against the bars, "I'm talking to you, plum tips." Until that moment, she had completely forgotten the ends of her hair were purple.

She finished blow-drying her freshly dyed hair, feeling defiant yet gratified with herself. A part of her was shaking in fear of how her parents would react, but that was the point. It was a symbol of recalcitrance.

Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, she ran straight into a body. The body disclosed itself as her one and only father. He seized her by the shoulders, ready to ram her to the side until he saw her head.

"You look like a fucking eggplant," he said while staggering away.

That had been three years ago, only a week before the incident. The doctors never bothered cutting her hair, and it never crossed her mind. The man within the enclosure crossways from hers began to spit out profanities, causing a guard to rush over.

"Shut the hell up!" the guard yells.

A soft snicker was then heard from the pitch-black cell directly across from the girl's own. She tried to see who belonged to the sound but detected no movement within. Her environment might be affecting her mental state, she thought.

Standing in line at the cafeteria, the girl directs her eyes to the ground. She hastily obtains her food and secures an unoccupied table, next to a couple of guards. She picks at the poorly made steak fingers, not finding anything appetizing. The room began filling with muffled laughter and the occasional one-sided conversation. Guards strolled between tables but paid no attention to the inmates. Some were pretending to write on the walls, while some just stared off into space. She was gratified she wasn't at that level of insanity, at least not yet. After a while of taking small bites of food, a towering broad-shouldered man approached her table.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked. She shook her head in response. He smiled politely and set his tray down beside hers.

The air between them infused with uncomfortable silence. The girl never once looked up from her lap, playing with a stray string on her striped outfit. The man coughed once he finished his lunch.

"Are you going to eat those?" he points at her tray. She follows his finger to the baby carrots rolled off to the side. She repeats her head shake from the first encounter. The man whoops in delight and scarfs down the orange vegetables.

"I'm Matthew, but my friends call me Sharpener. Nice to meet you," the man grins while extending his hand. The girl pulls her sleeve over her hand and mutually gives a handshake.

"W-where did you g-get the name Sharpener from?" the girl mumbles in question. Sharpener turns in surprise, not expecting her to talk. He laughs, "Oh, I put this guy's finger in one. It was hilarious." They both started laughing together, not aware they were being watched from afar.

“I want a nickname," the girl whispered to herself while lying face-up in her cot. She hated her birth name, Lauren, for several legitimate reasons. One, her parents administered it to her. Two, it sounded like a stuck-up popular girl's name. She sat up and began looking, maybe something would come to her. She gazed at her reflection from the metal frame of the cell bars and saw her aqua eyes. "Blue? No..." She caught a glimpse of her long hair, "Purple? Plum? Violet?" The preceding one caused her to stop. "Violet," she repeated. Purple was her favorite color after all.

“I like it."

Violet yelps and jerks her head around. A resounding cackle follows after her evident panic.

"Why you all... jumpy?" The voice continues. The man who bothered her not even five hours ago has been relocated for violent behavior, so she was the only one left in the hallway. Violet registers that the sound is coming from the dark ominous cell directly across. She grips the edge of the blanket, shifting it up closer to her chest.

"W-who are you?" Violet asks.

"Me? I'm a voice... a voice you've got buried so far down in your pretty little head. Or maybe it's coming to the surface... Stuffed under layers of societal teachings, that is just itching to get out..." After the last word fades into the depths, the owner of the strange vocalization came up to the bars.

He was lean and wiry, with an angular jaw and impressive bone structure. His sinister brown eyes were hooded with interest and adorning a broad charming smile. Atop his head was unwashed shoulder length dirty blonde hair with a hint of green. Attached to his cheeks were deep scars stretched from the corners of his mouth to his ears. People might say the scars were ugly, but Violet thought they merely added to his allurement. Violet could feel her heart pounding fiercely within her ribcage, but was she excited or scared?

 "Joker...?" Violet recalls doctors gossiping over that name during her hospitalization. They described him as a man who had a sharp Glasgow smile and wore clown makeup. Rumored to be the one who pushed Batman to kill Harvey Dent.

“One and only..."

“Are y-you not allowed to wear f-face paint here?" Violet questions.

The Joker smiles even wider, "No... It's against their code." He pauses to tilt his head. "Why do you ask? You want to see me in my best moments?" The accusation makes Violet flush a fiery red on her cheeks. In all honesty, she did want to see that. She wanted to see what made him... him.

"N-no, I was just curious..."

"Well ya know, curiosity killed the cat. Slaughtered him in pieces actually..." He giggled to himself. The joke made a small smirk to appear on Violet's face.

The Joker hummed to himself and itched his greasy head. "So... Why you in the loony bin? Ya got a... mental problem?"

 Violet averted her eyes and swallowed what felt like a thousand needles in her throat. "I-I killed someone."

"Classic... Who was it? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Stalker?"

"Dad."

He chuckled and leaned his forehead against the cold bars. "Tell me more."

"My parents... abused me all my life. I never knew happiness around them. I began to have dreams about killing them and decided to go through with it. My mother got away, and I still think about it every day. And I don't regret killing him, not one bit. He deserves to rot in hell for all I care." Violet grips the edge of the bed harshly with whitening knuckles.

The Joker licks his lips and whistles lowly. "Quite a story... You want to... uh... know something?" Violet looks up in interest.

"You didn't stutter," he says with half-lidded eyes.

Violet straightens her posture, "O-oh. I-I guess I got too focused." “Mhm." Joker slowly sits down, laboriously dragging his hand against the bars. Violet leans eagerly closer to observe his hands in motion. His fingernails were overgrown and hid some dirt and grime underneath. The creases on his palms were discolored, might've been from all of the face paint and a distinct lack of hygiene. "So," Violet clears her throat," H-how did you get caught? O-or was it your plan?" The Joker huffs and picks at his pant leg. "I wouldn't call it a... plan. I'm flexible, and uh... very unpredictable." She also overheard rumors he was a genius in planning his next move, especially with Harvey Dent and the girl named Rachel. His previous statement puzzled her, but maybe he didn't see himself as a guy who made plans. "The Batman hung me upside down on a ninety-story building... the uh SWAT team got me," he interrupts her thoughts. "T-that must've been s-scary."  "Not if you're the scary one."

[chaptersinprogress]

demolition lovers  |  2

King snorted, walking over and throwing himself onto the couch. "Tough luck. We both know that neither of us has a choice."

They sat together in silence. When the 10 more minutes King allowed Bohn for sulking were up, he held out his hand expectantly.

Rating: T

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Pairings: Ram/King; Bohn/Duen

"Alright, that's enough," said King, flipping on the light switch.

Bohn scowled at him from where he had cocooned himself on the couch. When King simply stared back at him with a raised eyebrow, he petulantly shoved a spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth and turned his back toward King. The latter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Bohn certainly wasn't planning on making this easy for him. King strode over to the couch and picked up the bottle of Baileys that was nestled between the cushions.

Tipping the bottle to catch the light, he whistled lowly. "Wow, you really put a dent into this. The bottle's almost two-thirds finished."

"If you're here to judge my life choices," grumbled Bohn, "you can just go."

King placed the bottle inside the mini-fridge and shut the door. Crossing his arms, he turned around to study his friend, "Well unluckily for both you and me, your dad sent me to make sure you got ready in time."

"'m not going," muttered Bohn around another spoonful of ice-cream.

King snorted, walking over and throwing himself onto the couch. "Tough luck. We both know that neither of us has a choice."

They sat together in silence. When the 10 more minutes King allowed Bohn for sulking were up, he held out his hand expectantly. Bohn sighed heavily before placing the half-eaten carton of ice-cream into it.

"Go shower, I'll lay out your stuff."

Bohn grunted in acknowledgement as he unfolded himself off the couch. Swaying drunkenly, he staggered into the bathroom, just barely catching the towel King tossed at him.

When Bohn walked out of the bathroom feeling slightly more human, he found King fully-dressed and standing in front of his mirror, fingers deftly tying a Windsor knot. Spotting his own suit neatly laid out on the bed, Bohn pulled on the clothes and slipped on the watch King had picked out.

"Fuck, man. You look like shit."

Bohn sighed as he draped his tie around his neck, "Yeah, thanks."

"No, seriously, you look like crap," King frowned at his best friend. "See for yourself."

Bohn walked over to the mirror and winced. The dark circles under his puffy eyes as well as his red nose were a dead giveaway for his miserable state. There was no way he could attend the fundraiser like this. He stared beseechingly at King.

"Sit," King ordered, pulling out the make-up supplies from the vanity. He applied primer and foundation to Bohn's face. "So… you going to tell me what all that was about?"

"It's nothing."

King scoffed, "Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England." He dabbed concealer under Bohn's eyes. "You were acting like you'd just got dumped."

When Bohn averted his eyes and remained silent, King almost dropped his brush. "You did get dumped!"

"Can't get dumped if you were never together," Bohn muttered under his breath.

King brushed colour-corrector on and blended it, "So it was the med kid? The one giving you flowers?"

"Yeah."

King winced sympathetically as he set the make-up, "That sucks." Stepping back to study his work, he shrugged and checked his watch. "It'll do." He kicked Bohn's foot gently. "Time to go. I'll drive, you're in no state to do so."

"Ah, if it isn't N'King and N'Bohn! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

King hid a grimace. They had barely stepped foot into the 2nd floor of the hall and they had already been accosted. He snagged two glasses of champagne off a passing waiter's tray and handed one to Bohn just as the middle-aged man who had called out approached them. They wai-ed as he stopped before them.

"How are you both? Studies going well?"

King offered him a courteous smile, "Ah, yes. It's tough as we're preparing for the final year, but we're managing."

The man nodded, "Excellent, excellent." He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I’m sure both of you are working very hard. But enough about school, you must be thinking plenty about it already. What about your personal lives? Do you have a faen yet? Both of you are handsome men, surely many people have asked you out."

Bohn looked away and took a large gulp of his champagne. King laughed and stepped forward as if telling the elder a secret, conveniently shielding Bohn from his sight. "There are many people who ask us out, Khun." He sighed dramatically, "But we're too busy nowadays. The teachers are giving us a lot of work, we don't even have time to sleep, let alone find a faen!"

The man chuckled in response. "Ah, yes. I suppose it's a good thing that you don't concern yourself with the people in university.  Choosing the right faen is very important, especially since you both will take over important positions. I'm sure there are many suitable people you will find who run in our circles when you wish to settle down."

King merely smiled in response and took a sip of champagne, swallowing the urge to bare his teeth along with the bubbly liquid.

A warm hand curled around his bicep, "I'm sure they'll be just fine, Khun Paithoon."

The elder eyed the hand where it rested on King’s arm before studying the girl who held onto the heir so familiarly. "N'Prae, you look as beautiful as ever."

Prae laughed and replied demurely as she wai-ed, "You flatter me, Khun."

"He's right you know, you are the Star of your university," said King, leaning close to Prae, lips barely brushing her intricately styled hair.

Prae looked up at King and smiled prettily. She turned back to the Khun Paithoon, who was watching them interact approvingly, "I'm sorry Khun, but I will have to steal these two boys away now, I was sent on behalf of their fathers."

"No worries, Nong. I shall not take up any more time." They exchanged good-byes before the man walked away.

The second his back was turned, Prae's free hand shot out to grab Bohn's wrist. She strode forward, still arm-in-arm with King and dragging Bohn behind them. King let her steer them through the crowd, nodding respectfully as they passed by stakeholders, investors and other important people they were supposed to be rubbing shoulders with.

"So… did our fathers send you?" King asked, amusement clear in his voice. With Prae's assistance, he liberated Bohn's drink from him and handed the two flutes to a waiter.

Prae waved at someone in the crowd. "Of course they did. But it was more for my sake than yours. It was getting boring; fending off all those propositions on my lonesome. And seems like I arrived just in time to save the two of you from them too."

A loud bang sounded from the floor below, causing them to wince. When no screaming or other concerning events followed, Prae shrugged it off and continued herding them along the balcony overlooking the floor below, towards an empty corridor.

"You know, maybe we should have a formal announcement," King snickered. "A huge event like this one, and then we just give it to them straight."

Prae snorted, before covering it up with a cough. Spinning around, she leaned against the railing and raised an eyebrow at her friends. Bohn and King mirrored her stance. A wry grin crossed her face.

"King…" she said slowly. "You're gay, Bohn's bi, and I'm lesbian. None of us are giving anything to them straight."

King threw his head back and laughed. "I know! That's the best part!"

Bohn, who had been paying his companions’ banter no mind, cut in. "Oi, you two, there's something's going on downstairs."

King and Prae looked at each other before peering over the railing. The function hall had slowly been quietening as the crowd on the lower floor parted, leaving a distinct gap in the centre of the space.

A lone man stood in the middle, indifferent to the agitated crowd encircling him. The young heirs looked on as Bohn's and King's fathers approached the man and greeted him politely. As Bohn's father looked up, he caught the eyes of the children watching from above. He blinked slowly at them twice before glancing away.

"Fuck, " cursed King softly. "Code Red."

The other two had stiffened at the signal. With a single glance, the three came to a mutual agreement. Prae slid her arm into the crook of King's elbow and the two subtly pulled away from the balcony. Bohn fell in line beside her as they swiftly made their way to the corridor they had been aiming for earlier. Polite smiles fixed in place, they ignored all attempts at conversation from others. The instruction Bohn’s father had given was clear - get out immediately.

Passing the threshold into the darkened corridor, King shut the door securely behind them before the trio broke out into a run. They had managed to make it halfway down the length to the rear exit when a person stepped out through another door ahead.

"Bohn!"

Said man skidded to a halt. Hot on his heels, King crashed into him, sending the pair stumbling forward. Prae, who was right behind them, promptly tripped over the tangle of limbs. King barely saved her from face-planting, catching her around the waist and pulling her into his chest. The three of them eyed the figure in front of them warily, still clinging onto each other and attempting to catch their breaths.

"Duen?" Bohn panted incredulously, squinting at the individual.

The person in question stepped into a pool of light spilling in from the large windows lining the corridor, dressed in a classic black suit.

"What are you doing here?" asked Bohn. "Wait, how did you even get in this place? You're not on the guest list."

The door Duen had stepped through slammed open with a bang, startling all the four badly.

"Duen!" came the harsh call.

The medical student winced. The person who had called out approached the group, stepping into the light.

King's jaw dropped.

"You!"

[vigilantesanonymous]

and the thing is, i’m not scared anymore (part 1)

In which you are a healer being held against your will by the First Order. There are legends swirling around the galaxy of a great Sith healer, one that can bring a man back to life, all without Jedi power. But to you, you’re just a girl stuck on a planet with nowhere to go, left to rot there for the rest of your life. That is, until a cocky and utterly charming Resistance pilot crashes in to save you. (So kinda like Tangled but make it Star Wars. Only kinda though.)

word count: 1869

***

This would be no easy mission, but Leia had full faith in her favorite fighter pilot. A girl, a healer, stuck on a planet in the unknown regions. That kind of power didn’t belong in the hands of the First Order, and Leia had reason to believe that this girl could be extremely beneficial to the Resistance. She explained this as she gave the final details to Poe about the mission. And the tiny detail that C-3PO was the only droid unit that had the coordinates, so he would have to come.

“So where are they keeping her exactly?” Poe asks as he stands across from Leia.

“We have reason to believe that she’s being stored on Volik.”

“The planet that was supposed to be a resort for all the Empire higher ups? Wasn’t that abandoned a while ago?”

“Exactly. It makes it the perfect place to keep her. No one residing there to discover her, but the First Order has extensive knowledge of the ins and outs of the planet. We think she’s being kept here, somewhere in this valley. Are you up to the challenge?” Leia asks him, a glimmer in her dark eyes.

“You know it General. I won’t let you down.”

And with that, Poe takes the Falcon and heads towards the unknown region, Chewy and his trusty droids along for the ride.

*

“Best seven out of ten?” I ask the mouse droid at my feet. PS-C4L beeps at me and swirls around my feet before heading in the opposite direction. “Okay! Then you come up with something better to do!”

The room they keep me in is modest, and not all that uncomfortable. But it’s the same room I’ve been locked in my entire life. Same grungy walls, same earthy smell from the dirt outside that I’m forbidden to touch. Books are stacked in neat piles near my bed- they cover all kinds of topics, from healing methods of different cultures to maps of the solar systems I’ve only ever dreamed of going to. A modest kitchenette (since I earned the privilege of being able to cook for myself at age 15), and two barred windows. My only glimpses into the outside world- a few vines have managed to crawl up the wall to poke in my window, that’s about it for living life forms aside from me in this room. From what I’ve gathered from Stormtroopers gossip, I’m stored in an old security outpost for what was supposed to be a resort for the richest of the rich in the Empire. Hence why I don’t have any of the bells and whistles that resort goers are supposed to have here in my quarters.

Somehow the little mouse droid squeaked his way in here, and the Stormtroopers who keep watch over me have just been too lazy to catch it, so I’ve made it my friend. Well, the closest thing I guess I can get to a friend. I’ve tried to talk to the Stormtroopers who keep guard over me, but mostly they just ignore me. They insist that they are unauthorized to talk to “the asset” (me), and that I have to call them by their serial coded names. I know their real names- James and Zara- but they get really angry if I call them by their real names, especially if there are other people around. The last ones whose names I learned were restationed, so I just keep to myself.

Unsure of where PS-C4L went, I resign to sitting up by the window and watching the outside world. One of my favorite things to do is watch as the ships go by. The last time I was on a ship was when I was a toddler, so it fascinates me to think about flying, and what it feels like. Today is a relatively quiet and humid day, so no ships are zipping along the horizon. Just a few troopers are down in the space I like to think of as a courtyard, just milling around. That is, until one of the taps the shoulder of the other, desperately pointing at the sky. A ship is coming in, but one I don’t recognize. “That’s no First Order ship,” I whisper to myself. Suddenly the Stormtroopers start scrambling to get their weapons and start shooting. I perk up, watching as the ship easily takes out a group of them on the ground.

“Whatever you do, keep the asset safe!” One of the troopers yells to my guards at the door as they run by. I can hear the thunking of their boots as they descend rapidly down the stairs to the courtyard.

Suddenly all I can hear is the pounding of my heartbeat. Are they- could they be coming for me? I sink below the window, breathing heavily. I could be saved! Or captured and sold off somewhere else. I’ve never been outside my little outpost, never even allowed to go outside for a short walk around the courtyard. What if I was taken somewhere worse, like made a slave for one of the Hutts? I shivered just at the thought of it. Scrambling up, I scoured the room for any kind of weapon I could use if I needed to defend myself and my eyes fell to - a frying pan. “Well, it’s the best thing I’ve got,” I say to PS-C4L, who has reappeared in all of the commotion. 

“I think we’re close!” I hear someone call from down the hall. “Goddamn, these things are everywhere!” Blaster shots echo off the walls in the hallway, followed with the sounds of clattering armor and grunting troopers that have fallen. 

“Stop right there!” One of the guards calls, holding up his blaster, but he’s instantly shot and crumples to the ground. After the din of the fighting, the usual quiet and background noise of the jungle is deafening in the eerie silence.

“That the last of them, 3PO?” 

I hear the mechanical creak of a biped droid coming closer. “That is correct, Commander Dameron. The only other life forces I can sense around us besides you and Chewbacca is the girl inside. We should hurry, they will send in reinforcements, I’m sure!” 

A tall man with dark hair and dark eyes peers at me from the slats in my door. “Hold on Sweetheart,” he calls to me. He stands back, and I hear the lock for the door explode, and the door shoots open. 

I hold the frying pan in front of me defensively. “You’re not a Stormtrooper,” I say, just barely a whisper. “Who are you?” I glance between the two of them, unsure of what to do. “Whoa, is that a Wookie?!”

It whines at me cockily, making the man roll his eyes. “Oh, give it a rest Chewy, she’s scared out of her mind.” He slides the blaster back into its holder, motioning for the Wookie to do the same. 

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” I spit out, trying to muster any confidence. 

“We are members of the Resistance, here to rescue you!” The gold droid cries happily. “General Princess Leia will be quite delighted to see you! That is, if we get out of here alive of course.”

“3PO,” the dark haired man sighs wearily. This droid must annoy him a lot. The more I look him over, the more flushed I can feel myself getting. He’s tall, with dark sparkling eyes and messy, fluffy dark curly hair. He’s obviously not used to the humid climate of the planet, since his cotton civilian shirt is clinging to him where he’s sweating. “I’m Commander Poe Dameron, leader of the Black Squadron and on the side of the Resistance. But you can just call me Poe.” He holds out his hand to me, and slowly I lower my frying pan and take it. “The Wookie is Chewbacca, and the droid is C-3PO.” His hand is damp with sweat, but I feel like a current has run through me at his touch. I murmur my name to him shyly, making him smile. “Well, now that we’ve all been formally introduced, let’s get ya outta here.”

“Leave?” I squeak. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “Let’s leave. Y’know, before the First Order comes and blows us all to stardust.”

“Yeah,” I nod in agreement. “It’s just- I’ve never been outside this room before and I’m just really nervous, you know? Like what is it like out there, what if there’s something scary, or something that’s gonna try to eat me like the stories with the dark lore creatures and-” I sputter at a million miles a minute, but Poe cuts me off with the confused gaze he’s giving me. 

“They’ve never let you out of here before?” I feel like time slows around us, and it’s just me staring into his dark eyes. They soften a little, the cocky spark replaced with something more genuine. 

The moment is shattered by the chips of another droid coming from the band on Poe’s arm. “Alright, that was BB-8; we’ve got movement. We’ve gotta get out of here, they’re less than ten minutes away.”

“Oh dear!” 3PO wails. “I’ll be sold off as a servant droid if I’m lucky!” 

Poe pulls me along with him out into the hallway, breaking into a run with the others trailing behind us. We make it out to the courtyard before more Stormtroopers appear. “Great,” Poe says sarcastically. “More of these.” 

“Leave the asset here! Do not damage the asset! Repeat, do not damage the asset!” One of the command leaders barks to the others. I yelp as shots from blasters fly by me. 

“You know how to use one of these?” Poe yells to me over the din. I realize that he’s trying to shove a blaster in my hands, but I don’t know what to do. 

“No!” I cry back, terrified. 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything!” he says cheerily, pushing it into my hands. “Now shoot!” 

I scramble along behind Poe, trying to get one of my many frenzied shots to actually hit something instead of zinging past the troopers following us. Only a mere few yards from the ship that they used, and then- I hear Poe grunt and clutch at his side in pain. Luckily the shot had grazed his torso and didn’t get anything important, but it still grazed him pretty good. Blood started to bloom onto his shirt from his side. I look from him to the blaster in my hand, and shoot the first Stormtrooper I see in the head before tugging Poe up and into the ship. The door pulls up just in time, the sound of blaster shots pinging on the outside of the ship. 

“You can’t fly like this,” I say to him. He’s sat down on the floor, me kneeling next to him and trying to assess the wound as well as I can with him covering it. He’s bleeding badly, but Poe shakes his head. “I’m the pilot, I have to.”

“There’s no other pilot?!”

Chewbacca roars as he runs down the hall towards the pilot's cockpit. “Oh fine,” Poe winces. “Get us out of here, Chewy!”