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castiel-barnes · 4 years ago

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The Rebuild.

The Mandalorian and The Jedi Series.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Jedi! Reader.

Summary: After Obi Wan Kenobi comes to you in your dream, you believe it is about time to rebuild what belongs to you.

Warnings: None I think.

Wordcount: 2.05k

Previous chapter

Tags: @phoenixhalliwell @scribbledghost @farfromjustordinary @ginger-swag-rapunzel

A/N: Have a wonderful star wars week folks. And May the 4th be with you.

It was still day time by the time you woke again. And Din was still sitting there,with your hand incased in his. However, you noticed that your hand was slightly warmer than it was earlier. Turning your head so you could see properly, you saw that Din's gloves were off and tucked into his belt.

His skin was bronze, small scars here and there, slightly calloused palms and a small bullseye tattoo between his thumb and index finger. You smiled slightly, and then squeezed Din's hand to let him know you were awake.

"Hey cyar’ika, how you feeling?" He asked voice sounding raspy,

"Tired still, but better. What time is it?" You responded shifting on the bed a little.

"Only about half 2. Grogus been a bit restless while you've been sleeping. He came in here for a bit, then promptly fell asleep. I think he was just seeing if you were alright or not." Din stated looking towards the door way,

"You hungry?" He asked letting go of your hand. Nodding you shifted and went to sit up.

"Din can we sit outside please?" You replied groaning, your body aching more than you would've liked,

"Of course, let me help you and then I'll get Omera to bring you something." Din said shifting so he could help you. He let you grip onto his arms, and he held your arms firmly but gently as he helped you sit up. You screwed your eyes shut for a moment and let out a breath.

"You good?" Din asked slightly concerned, letting you sit there for a moment. Nodding you readjusted your grip, so that Din could help you stand. "Okay on 3. 1. 2 .3." He continued helping you up. You leaned your head against Din's chest as he held you, so that you could take your time.

"Can we go slow?" You asked,

"Yeah cyare." Din replied letting you hold onto his shoulder, as he placed his arm around your waist cautiously not to put his hand in the wrong place. He helped you outside and you squinted at the brightness of the sun. There was a chair that was outside of the hut, and Din helped you lower yourself gently onto the chair.

"I'll go ask Omera if she can get you some food." Din stated,

"Thank you Din." You responded smiling, watching Din walk away to find Omera. Looking around, you saw the defenses still in place and the AT-ST abandoned with carbon scoring. Then you heard the pitta patter of two sets of feet. One more larger sounding and one a lot more smaller. Temmin and Grogu came running over to you, beaming smiles across their faces. You smiled.

"Y/N! You're awake!!!" Temmin shouted hugging you,

"Careful Tem, they're just waking up." Din stated chuckling walking over to the three of you.

"Sorry. I'm just happy you're awake." Temmin stated,

"Are you okay buddy?" Asking both Grogu and Temmin. Grogu cooed happily and made grabby hands. You picked Grogu up and smiled running a finger over his ear. Din was glad that you couldn't see his face, he was smiling ear to ear under his helmet. A warm feeling inside of his stomach started to form, and for Din it was a peculiar thing. It was something about watching you talk to the kids in the village, that got to him. Watching you be paternal towards the children.

"You kept everyone safe didn't you Temmin?" You asked,

"Yeah!" Temmin replied standing up, chest puffed out with pride. You smiled and ruffled Temmins hair, letting him run off again.

"You're really good with him." Din stated, sitting on a crate opposite you. You smiled and ate the food Omera had given to you.

"He's a good kid. He listens which I suppose is a good thing." You replied finishing the food.

**********************************

Few weeks later:

A few weeks had gone by since the small battle in the village, and your strength once again had returned. It had been quiet for a while now. You noticed that Din and Omera had been getting closer, but you tried to brush it off not getting distracted.

You were playing a little game with the kids, when you noticed Din and Omera talking away from the others. Your heart constricted slightly, as you saw Omera bring her hands up to his helmet as if to take it off. Before you saw him reach for her hands, everyone heard a shot go off. Din pushed Omera behind him drawing his pistol, as you did the same with the kids igniting the saber.

"OMERA GET EVERYONE INTO THE HUTS!!" You shouted at her, following Din to where the shot came from.

There stood Cara over a body, a body of a bounty hunter with a tracking fob.

"Y/N... we can't stay here." Din stated turning to you,

"Okay." You replied still thinking about a few moments ago. The two of you decided that getting off Sorgan was a better idea than anything else you came up with. You packed your kit up, and decided you'd take apart your saber a little and give a bit to a specific kid.

"Do you have to go Y/N?" Temmin asked,

"Yes Tem, I'm sorry but it's safer like this. Here take this.” You stated giving Temmin a part of your lightsaber hilt.

“I can’t take this, it’s a part of your lightsaber.” Temmin replied taking the piece from you and observed it. You kneeled down in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder lightly.

“Listen to me Temmin, you must remember that sometimes you have to forget the past. Sometimes that means burying memories far back, but sometimes it also means that you start over physically. And for me that means making a new lightsaber, one that doesn’t have bad memories attached to it.” You stated ruffling his hair,

“When I meditate, i’ll think about you and maybe we could force connect.” Temmin stated. You smiled and stood back up, making sure your robes were neat.

“I’ll come back one day Tem, I promise.” You replied. Din called for you, and you smiled as you walked away from Temmin. Everything was packed on the small transport you had originally came on and you was about to sit down on it, until you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You turned around just in time, only to have two smaller bodies hug into yours. It was Temmin and Winta.

“Thank you for helping us Y/N.” Winta whispered, you smiled and hugged them back.

“It’s okay kids. Remember to stay out of trouble and to be brave. May the force be with you always.” You replied giving them a small squeeze and then sitting on the transport. The three of you watched as the village faded out of site. You sat there your eyes closed, listening to the sounds around you. It might be the last time for a while, that'd you hear woodland sounds.

"Din?" You said getting his attention,

"Hmm?" He responded lifting his head to meet your eyes.

"Do you have any random spare metal parts?" You asked, Din was silent for a moment presumably thinking. He nodded and shifted his positions.

"Yeah, I think there's a pieces laying around. Why'd you want them?" Din responded, curious as to what you were up to. You looked down for a moment, looking at your lightsaber.

"I wanna rebuild my saber. This one... it just doesn't feel like mine anymore." You said quietly, thinking back to what Kenobi said to you during your dream. Din looked at you, and you knew that he wanted to help you with this stuff.

"Okay, once we get everything back onto the crest, I'll find the little box that has all the spare parts in." Din said as he saw the Razor Crest come into view sightly beyond the trees. You smiled as your mostly newly found home came through the trees.

"Thank you Din, when I was sleeping I had a dream about one of the masters from the jedi temple. He agreed with me that building a new lightsbaer would probably be better for me." You stated thinking back the encounter you had in your dream, where you came across Master Obi Wan Kenobi. Din nodded along, as if understanding what you said but not having an inkling.

Jumping off of the transport, Din made sure you were okay now out of habit before starting to load everything back onto the crest. After loading everything back on, he dug around the ship for a moment finally finding the box of spare parts he knew he had.

"Here, these are all the spare parts I could find." Din stated giving you a box of metal pieces,

"Thank you, is there anything else you need me to do before I start rebuilding?" You asked taking the box from him.

"Nope not that I can think of. I'll take the kid up to the cockpit with me, so it gives you less of a distraction." Din responded taking Grogu from you gently when you offered him, you smiled and nodded as you watched Din and Grogu ascend up the ladder to the cockpit. You placed the box of parts in the middle of the hull, and sat in front of the box.

Clearing your mind, you thought back to the first time you constructed a lightsaber. You thought back over the good memories of when you were a youngling before the purge. But now you thought of a more recent good memory. A memory of you and Din and Grogu, sitting there together on Sorgan and the butterflies you felt in your stomach when Din called you "cyar’ika".

As your eyes were closed and your mind working its magic. The pieces from the box started to float. Bits of metal plates and cylindrical pieces floated around you. The energy in the entire ship shifted, and above in the cockpit both Din and Grogu could feel the energy.

"They're powerful kid. I think we're both lucky to have them don't ya think?" Din said turning to Grogu,

Grogu cooed as his eyes fluttered and his ears raised a little, sensing the effect of the force.

The force continued to surge throughout the Razor Crest, and the spare parts continued to circle around you. The parts that called to you, came out of the asteroid of peices around you and started to form a cylindrical shape. The blue kyber crystal floated out, the glowing of its form casting a shadow of your body behind you in the wall.

The crystal made its place inside of the new hilt for your lightsaber, and all of the other pieces you didn't use were placed neatly back into the box. Opening your eyes, your new lightsbaer hilt floated in front of you. The saber hilt was almost completely silver, except for a black T shape leading down from the button, and a small stripe of red or burgundy around the bottom of it. It reminded you of Dins armour when you first met him.

Taking it out of the air, you stood up and pointed the end of it away from you and ignited it. The hum of it was more quiet than it was before. And the weight felt that it should belong. You smiled slightly, bringing your free hand to your scar for a second. Finally the memories of the old saber getting pushed away.

You placed the box of spare parts out of the way, so that no one would trip over it. Clipping your newly built lightsaber to your belt, you climbed up the ladder and went to the cockpit.

"How'd it go?" Din asked turning to you,

"It went well. Here." You replied unclipped it and handing it to Din. He observed it and tested the weight of it in his own hand.

"It looks good. Nice weight too cyar’ika." Din stated giving it back to you. You smiled and sat down, setting Grogu down onto your lap.

You had a feeling that whenever Din said "cyar’ika" that it was something good, and it gave you butterflies. But you couldn't be too sure, because it was a difficult to see what Din was thinking.

#writing #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x jedi

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supermarvelgirl15 · 4 years ago

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Home- Chapter 3 (The Gunslinger)

Summary: Din and Jesla help a rookie bounty hunter who is in over his head. Jesla sees someone that she never thought she would ever see again.

Pairing: Eventual Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) × OC!Jesla Gavdo

Word Count: 5,620

Warnings: Violence, gun TW, near death experience

A/N: Now this is long one, whew! I hope you all enjoy it! Tags are still open!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

“Losing fuel,” Mando announces as the Razor Crest loses all power, the Child squealing behind them. Jesla rolls her eyes, trying some switches as Din goes to turn on the emergency power.

“If you would've listened to me when I said we were tailed by that fighter, we wouldn't be in this mess!” Jesla calls after the ship powers back up and the engine comes on again. She had tried telling him that they should go a different route because someone was following them, but he just told her that she was being paranoid.

The Mandalorian mutters to himself incoherently as he sits back in his seat gruffly. The Child climbs up in Jesla's lap, picking at the bottom of her glove that was slowly unraveling. She looks down at him when he places his hand on her wrist where her tattoos were drawn on her skin. He looks back up at her, as if asking what they meant. Jesla swallows thickly, moving his hand away and pulls her glove back down over them.

Din watches the interaction between the two, making note of the markings that she was hiding. Despite knowing she was an ex-Imperial sharpshooter that was trained on some planet named Kamino and had powers like the kid, he didn't really know that much about her. She didn't know anything about him either. Din usually worked alone, so he wasn't sure how he was suppose to start a conversation without it being work-related. He guessed Jesla wasn't much of a conversationalist as well. After all, they were both still strangers to each other, in a way.

“This is Mos Eisley Tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay three-five. Over.”

The operator shakes Din out of his thoughts, clearing his throat before speaking. “Copy that. Locked in for three-five,” he replies.

Jesla straightens up once she realizes where they were currently landing. “Is this Tatooine?” She questions, leaning over the control panel to scan the area outside the cockpit window. The Child, who had fallen asleep in her lap, stirs slightly at her movement.

Mando nods as he settles down in the bay. “Yes... you've been here before?” He asks, turning the ship off.

“Yeah, once... It was actually for another Mandalorian believe it or not,” Jesla laughs shortly at the memory of the bounty hunter. He had reminded her of her brothers.

Din turns to look at her then, his eyebrows furrowed under his helmet. “You knew another Mandalorian?” He queries incredulously, tilting his head forward slightly.

Jesla licks her lips, nodding. “Uh, yeah. But he was killed here a handful of years ago,” she answers, her eyes darting away for a brief moment. Just like everyone else she knew.

“Should I be worried?” Din tries to joke, but as soon as it comes out of his mouth, he's not sure she would take it as one. Why he was actually concerned about that, he didn't really know.

His worries are washed away when he hears Jesla laugh and sees her genuinely smile as she shakes her head, a few strands of hair that wasn't tied back falling in her face. He doesn't recall seeing her actually smile before, besides offering small ones to be polite. She seemed to always be wearing a metaphorical mask around people she didn't trust. In some ways, they were similar.

“Oh, so you actually have a sense of humor? I'm surprised,” Jesla grins as she stands up with the sleeping Child in her arms. Despite not being able to see Mando's face, she knew that he was rolling his eyes.

One by one, they both climb down the ladder to the hangar. When the Mandalorian opens the cot door, Jesla lays the Child in there, Mando then closing it to lock him inside. The duo then open the hangar door and leave the ship.

Three pit droids pop up and start to approach, but pop down with a screech when Mando starts shooting at them. Jesla's eyes widen as she quickly grabs his wrist and forcibly lowers his blaster down. “Mando, what the hell?!”

A woman comes rushing out of the office, yelling at them. “Hey! You damage one of my droids, you pay for it,” she shouts.

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Mando grumbles, shaking off Jesla's grip on him and slips his blaster back into its rightful place. Jesla shoots him a look, but he ignores her as he walks away.

What was his problem?

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya? Let's look at your ship,” the woman says as she knocks on the hull, making something rattle and clank inside. “Oof... Look at that. Oh, you got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout. Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that... You got a fuel leak?! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.” The woman walked around the entire ship, naming everything that needed to be fixed.

As she listened to the woman name everything, Jesla knew that they didn't have enough credits to fix the whole ship. They needed to get more money somehow.

“We've got 500 Imperial credits,” Mando tells her and judging by the look the woman just gave him, it wasn't enough.

“That's all you got? Well,” the woman turns to the pit droids, “what do you guys think? That should at least cover the hangar.”

“We'll get you your money,” Jesla promises, Mando nodding in agreement as he stands back beside her.

The woman scoffs, shaking her head. “I've heard that before,” she mutters.

“Just remember-”

“Ya, no droids, I heard ya. You don't have to say it twice,” the woman interrupts Din as she waves them off.

Mando and Jesla both leave and walk through the sandy streets of Mos Eisley. They pass some Stormtrooper helmets on pikes which makes Jesla stop in her tracks. Din only makes it a few feet before he notices that he was walking alone. He looks back to search for his partner and finds her stopped in front of the trooper helmets, staring at them.

Jesla subconsciously rubs the spot on her wrist where her tattoos were, still looking at the sight in front of her. Memories from the war enter her mind, memories she tried so hard to forget. Her time as a trooper was not a pleasant one, even though she was trained for it her whole life. Maybe that was the reason she accepted her master's offer.

She's brought out of her thoughts when she feels a hand grip her shoulder firmly, yet somehow gently as well. Jesla looks down at the gloved hand then at its owner.

“You all right?” Mando asks sincerely, making eye contact with her through his visor. Jesla looks back at the pikes one last time, nodding slowly. She drops her hand from her wrist and walks away, making Din release his grip on her shoulder.

They end up walking into a cantina, the Mandalorian taking the lead as he walks up to the droid bartender. “Hey, droid. We're hunters. We're looking for some work.”

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates in Tatooine,” the droid informs them as it cleans a glass.

“We're not looking for Guild work,” Jesla says, leaning on the bar. There had to be something.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation. At least by my calculation,” the droid apologizes.

How were they going to pay for the repairs on the Razor Crest now?

“Think again, tin can.”

The Mandalorian and ex-Imperial both turn to look at a man lounging in a booth with his feet on the table. “If you're looking for work, have a seat, my friends. Name's Toro. Toro Calican,” he introduces himself. Mando and Jesla hesitate, both looking at one another. “Come on, relax,” Toro beckons them over.

Toro takes his feet off the table as the duo walk over to sit. He then places a bounty puck on the table, a hologram popping up. “Picked up this bounty puck before I left the Mid-Rim. Fennec Shand, an assassin. Heard she's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown,” he shares.

“I know the name,” Mando replies shortly. Jesla could already tell that he wasn't interested in this kid's proposal. She had heard of this Fennec Shand, but never met her. She knew she was a good shot though, just like herself.

“Well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job,” Toro shrugs, grabbing the bounty puck off the table.

One... Two... Three...

“Good luck with that,” Mando mutters as he slides out of the booth with Jesla right behind him. This man was becoming too predictable.

Calican frantically gets up, “Wait, wait, wait. I thought you guys needed work.”

Din turns back to face him. “How long have you been with the Guild?” He questions the kid.

“Long enough,” Toro stammers.

“Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won't make it past sunrise,” Mando ends it there and leaves. Toro looks to Jesla for some help, but she just shrugs and leaves as well.

Quickly, Toro goes after them, losing his confident facade. “This is my first job. You can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can't do it alone,” he presses out.

Jesla leans over to Mando, considering Calican's offer. “We could definitely use those credits,” she whispers to him.

Mando sighs, but nods reluctantly in agreement. He turns back to Toro. “Meet us at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring speeder bikes, and give me the tracking fob,” he orders, holding his hand out for the fob.

Toro then destroys the tracking fob instead of giving it to the Mandalorian. Jesla's eyebrows furrow in confusion at his sudden action. “Don't worry. Got it all memorized,” Toro winks at Jesla which makes her roll her eyes.

“Half an hour,” Din grumbles as he walks back in the direction of the hangar. Jesla gives Toro a once over before heading in the same direction.

This is going to be fun.

∞∞∞

Jesla and Mando enter the hangar and head inside the ship. The duo immediately see the cot door open with no Child inside. They both look at each other before rushing back outside, Jesla unholstering her blaster.

“HEY! Where is he?!” Mando angrily questions a pit droid, which folds up in fear instead of answering him.

The woman comes out of her office, the Child in her arms. “Quiet! Oh,” she rocks the now crying Child, “shh, it's okay. You woke it up. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?”

Jesla let's out a sigh of relief, putting the blaster back in it's holster. “Give him to me,” she orders the woman, reaching out for him.

“Not so fast! You can't just leave a child all alone like that. You know... you've got an awful lot to learn about raising a young one,” the woman says, the Child now quiet as he looks up at her sweetly.

“Anyway, I started the repair on the fuel leak. There you go,” she says, hitting the side of the ship. “I had a couple setbacks I wanna talk to you about. You know I didn't use any droids as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected. But I figured you two were good for the money since you have an extra mouth to feed.”

The Mandalorian and Jesla both thank her before they leave the hangar. “Oh, I guess I was right. You got a job, didn't you? You know, it's costing me a lot of money to keep these droids even powered up,” the woman tells them as she follows them out with the Child still in her arms.

Toro Calican is waiting with two speeder bikes. Jesla tilts her head as she looks at them as Mando inspects them. There were three of them, but there were only two speeders.

“Sorry, I could only get two of 'em. Looks like you'll have to ride with someone,” Toro informs her, his eyes looking her up and down. If he were to do that to her a few years ago, Jesla would've killed him where he stood.

Mando watches her as he hops on the bike, not missing the once over Toro had given her. Jesla just gives Toro a tight lipped smile as she hops on the speeder with Din, wrapping her arms around his waist. Toro stands there stunned for a couple seconds before hopping on his bike.

“If he checks me out like that again, I will kill him,” she whispers as she leans in close to him. Din chuckles shortly before speeding off into the desert with Calican right behind them. They race over the sand and dunes, Jesla pulling her hood down over her face to keep the sand from getting into her eyes.

They continue to ride until the Mandalorian signs to Toro to hold. Both speeders simultaneously come to a halt.

“What's going on?” Toro asks as he slides his goggles off.

Din points ahead of them as he gets off the speeder, Jesla also hopping off to stretch out her limbs. “Look. Up ahead,” he tells him. Calican gets off his bike and uses his binoculars, seeing two banthas with their riders beside them.

“Tusken Raiders. I heard the locals talking about this filth,” Toro says as he lowers his binoculars.

“Tuskens think they are the locals. Everyone else is just trespassing,” Mando discloses.

Toro scoffs as he rolls his eyes. “Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” he swaggers.

Jesla watches as two Tuskens walk up behind him, a smirk forming on her lips. “Yeah? Why don't you tell them yourself?”

Calican turns around to see the two Tusken Raiders standing behind him. He goes to reach for his blaster, but the Mandalorian quickly intercepts. “Relax.”

Mando walks up to the Tuskens, using sign language to communicate with them. Jesla watches in amazement as Mando continues to negotiate with the Tuskens. Apparently, Mando knew a lot of languages. The man never ceased to amaze her.

“What's going on?” Toro queries as he watches the interaction as well.

“We need passage across their land. Let me see the binocs,” Mando answers, holding out an outstretched hand. Toro hands them over to Din who in turn hands it over to the Tuskens.

Calican's mouth falls open in surprise as the Mandalorian remounts his bike. “Those were brand new,” he grumbles.

Jesla smirks as she turns to follow Mando. “Yeah. They were,” she mocks, hopping on the back of Mando's speeder. They take off, Toro eventually following them.

They don't get too far when Mando suddenly stops again and gets off the bike, Jesla following his lead. “Get down,” Mando orders Toro, who gets off his speeder as well and follows the duo to take cover behind a dune ridge. Below them was a dewback with its rider still attached, getting dragged behind it.

“Is that her? Is that the target?” Calican questions, squinting his eyes.

“I don't know. We'll go,” Din answers, nodding towards Jesla. “You cover us. Stay down,” he adds as both him and Jesla draw out their blasters.

Din and Jesla rush towards the beast, approaching more carefully as they get closer. Jesla turns over the body being dragged, revealing a masked man. It wasn't her.

“Is it her? Is she dead?” Toro calls down to them from his position on the ridge.

Jesla shakes her head as she looks over in his direction. “It's another bounty hunter!”

The Mandalorian continues to look through the hunter's things as Jesla scans their surroundings. Mando finds a beeping tracking fob on the body and jumps up suddenly, pulling Jesla in front of him.

“Get down!”

Just then a shot rings out, hitting Mando right on the pauldron. The impact causes him to fall on top of Jesla as the dewback runs off. Jesla quickly pushes him off of her and helps him up. They make another break to the dune ridge, Din making sure he was right behind Jesla to block any shots. He pushes Jesla over the ridge just as another shot hits him, throwing him over the top of the ridge as well.

“What happened?” Toro asks, making sure he's out of the sniper's line of sight.

“Sniper bolt. Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot,” Jesla responds, gesturing to to her own MK swung over her shoulder. She turns back to Mando, checking him over. “Are you all right?”

Mando nods as he sits up. “Yeah. Hit me in the beskar. And at that range, beskar held up,” he says, checking the areas where the shots hit him.

“So what do we do? Can't you just snipe her with your rifle?” Toro asks Jesla, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of where the shots came from.

Jesla rolls her eyes as she shakes her head. It was times like these that made her miss her trooper helmet so no one could see her expressions. “No, she has the high ground. By the time I set up my rifle, I'd be dead. She's going to wait for us to make the first move,” she explains to him.

“So, we're gonna wait until dark. I'm gonna rest. You take the first watch. Stay low,” Mando cuts in, propping himself against the speeder.

Watching Mando settle himself against the bike, Jesla realizes that resting didn't sound so bad. She nods at Toro before going to prop herself against the other speeder, pulling her hood down just over her eyes. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

Once night falls, Jesla is woken up by Toro murmuring to himself and playing gunslinger in front of the supposedly sleeping Mandalorian, practically making an ass out of himself.

“You done?”

Din's voice startles Toro, making him fumble to put his blaster away as he stumbles over his words. Jesla laughs quietly as she pushes herself up, stretching out her limbs. Mando stands up as well, reaching for something on his belt.

“Get on your bike. Ride as fast as you can. Towards those rocks,” Mando informs Calican, pointing to the area in front of them.

“That's your plan? She'll snipe us right off the bikes,” Toro points out, throwing his hands up in the air. Jesla hated to admit it, but the kid was right. She didn't have to say that out loud though.

The Mandalorian tosses a charge over to Toro. “It's a flash charge. We alternate shots. It'll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed and we got a chance.”

And with that, the three of them hop on the speeders. Jesla holds onto Mando tightly as they speed across the open valley. Mando releases the first charge, making the sniper's shot go wide. Toro then fires his flash charge, making Fennec Shand miss again. He goes to fire another one, but it misfires, giving Shand a chance at a good shot. She takes it and shoots out the bike out from under Din and Jesla.

Jesla groans from the impact just as Mando fires another charge so Calican could get across. Shand then hits Mando square in the breastplate, knocking him back. Jesla's heartbeat picks up as realizes that she has no cover or beskar to protect her. She hears a groan come from Mando as he slowly pushes himself up. He looks over at Jesla then towards where Toro and Fennec were fighting. Jesla let's out breath she didn't know she was holding when she sees that the sniper was too occupied to pay attention to them.

Together, Mando and Jesla sneak up to where Toro was “distracting” Fennec. They come up just as Shand gives Toro a thorough thrashing. Fennec turns to them, both Jesla and Din pointing their blaster at her. “Nice distraction.”

Fennec let's Calican go, Toro groaning as he gets up. Mando tosses some cuffs to Shand. “Cuff yourself,” he turns to Toro, “why don't you go and find your blaster.”

“A Mandalorian. It's been a long time since I've seen one of your kind. Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn't go so well there but... it looks like you got off easy,” Fennec says to Mando as she looks him up and down.

Toro finds his blaster and holsters it. “You don't have to worry about getting to Nevarro or anywhere else once we turn you in. You know I really should thank you. You're my ticket into the Guild,” he boasts, a prideful smirk on his face.

“You're welcome,” she replies sarcastically. Fennec then turns to Jesla, giving her a once over as well. “You seem... familiar. Have we met?” She asks her, eyes squinting slightly.

“No,” Jesla answers shortly, roughly grabbing her arm. The group make their way down to where the single speeder bike is parked.

Will just one thing work out for them?

“Uh oh... it looks like one of us has to walk,” Fennec quips, smirking.

Jesla roughly pushes Fennec down to sit. “Or we could drag you,” she retorts.

Mando, Toro, and Jesla walk a short distance away from her. “All right... So, what's the plan?” Calican questions, rubbing his hands together.

“I need you to go and find that dewback we saw,” Din tells him.

“And leave you two here? With my bounty and my ride? Yeah... I don't think so, guys,” Toro shakes his head as he crosses his arms across his chest.

Din sighs as he turns to face the valley, scanning with his HUD until he detects a heat reading a couple ridges over. “Okay. I'll do it. Watch her. And don't let her get near the bike. She's no good to us dead. Jesla will stay with you to make sure of it,” he says as he turns back to face them, tilting his helmet in Jesla's direction. It was the first time in years since Jesla heard her name come from someone else's mouth. It almost sounded foreign to her.

With one last nod, Mando walks away towards the direction of the dewback. Both Toro and Jesla watch him for a few moments before returning to the speeder bike and Shand.

∞∞∞

The group had waited throughout the night, waiting for the return of the Mandalorian. It was now morning and there was still no sign of Mando. Jesla worries her bottom lip as her eyes scan the sandy valley. She wasn't sure what was taking him so long.

“Uh... It's been a while. Oh look, the suns are coming up,” Fennec announces as she stretches.

“Quiet,” Jesla quickly orders, her eyes never leaving the valley.

Fennec glares at Jesla before turning her attention to Toro. “Look, there's still time to make my rendezvous in Mos Espa. Take me to it, and I can pay you double the price on my head,” she tells him.

“I don't care about the money,” Toro mutters, not looking at her.

“Oh. So they keep all the money for themselves,” Shand nods towards Jesla, seemingly understanding the situation.

“Only because I let them,” Toro states, glancing over his shoulder at her.

Shand shakes her head as she laughs. “Doesn't seem that way. I mean, it seems like they're calling all the shots.”

Toro turns to face her then, making Jesla turn to face them. “Shows what you know. I hired them. This is my job. Bringing you in will make me a full member of the Bounty Hunters' Guild,” he shares, taking a couple steps towards her. Jesla pushes herself off the ground, ready to intervene if neccessary.

Fennec rolls her eyes. “You already have something that the Guild values far more than me. You just don't see it,” she scoffs.

“Okay, that's enough talking,” Jesla orders as she walks closer to them.

The assassin smirks at Toro's questioning look. “The Mandalorian. His armor alone's worth more than my bounty,” she continues, ignoring Jesla.

Calican shrugs as he shakes his head. “I already told you I don't care about the money,” he reminds her.

“Then think what it would do for your reputation. A Mandalorian shot up the Guild with the help of some sniper on Nevarro. Took some high value target and went rogue,” Shand tries to convince him.

“That Mandalorian?”

Shand nods, her smirk still plastered on her face. “Like I said, you don't see many. You bring the Guild that traitor and they'll welcome you with open arms. Your name will be legendary.”

Jesla starts to walk towards Fennec. “I said that's enough,” Jesla hisses, grabbing her roughly. She goes to pull her away, but is stopped by a sudden pain in her left side. Looking up, she sees Toro pointing his blaster at her. It's then when she realizes that she was shot, letting go of Fennec as she stumbles backwards and falls down.

How did she let this happen? Why hadn't her instincts kicked in? The pain shoots through her body as she turns her head to face Toro and Shand. They're still talking, but Jesla can't focus enough to actually hear them. She watches as Toro shoots Fennec point blank, her body dropping to the ground as well.

As Toro speeds off on the bike, Jesla pushes herself to stand back up, groaning in pain as she does so. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but she slowly started after Toro on foot. It was impossible to catch up to him, she knew that, but her anger was the only thing keeping her alive and she needed to go after him.

She had been walking for a while when she finally collapses, the pain taking over her. Jesla grits her teeth as she clutches her wound. This wasn't supposed to be how she died. Out of all the ways she thought she would go out, this was not one of them. Maker, why did this have to happen to her?

Her eyelids started to feel heavy, the grip on her wound loosening. There was no way that she was going to make it. The odds were impossible. She knew that this was it as she finally allowed herself to close her eyes.

“Don't tell me this is how you're going to die.”

The new voice causes Jesla to barely open her eyes, her vision spotty. She slowly turns her head, squinting at the man before her.

“After everything, an inexperienced kid is what kills you? I thought I trained you better than that,” the man says, shaking his head as he looks down at her.

Jesla still couldn't make out who was talking to her. However, there was something familiar about his presence. “Who...” she tries to ask.

The man crouches down beside her. “Come on, my apprentice. Get up,” he orders her.

No. How was this possible? Jesla's eyes finally focus on the man. It was him.

“M-master?”

Anakin Skywalker smiles down at her as he stands back up. “Get up, Jesla,” he tells her again. And with that, he disappears as if he was never there to begin with.

Those three words continue to repeat inside Jesla's head as she turns herself over on the sandy ground. She pushes herself off the ground with an agonizing yell. Anakin was right. A kid wasn't about to be the one that killed her.

∞∞∞

Din approaches Mos Eisley that night on the dewback. He had just came back from where he had left Calican, Shand, and Jesla with the speeder. Once he had gotten there, he found Fennec left for dead with no sign of Jesla or Toro. Din wasn't sure what had occurred, but he knew it wasn't good.

He spots the speeder parked outside the hangar as he ties up the dewback. Drawing out his blaster, he silently enters the hangar. A pit droid rushes past him into the office where it and two other droids fold up in fear.

“Took you long enough, Mando,” he hears Calican's voice say. Toro then appears on the Razor Crest's ramp with the Child on his arm and the mechanic at gunpoint. “Looks like I'm calling the shots now, huh, partner? Drop your blaster and raise ’em.”

Din does as he's told, his eyes scanning around him from under his helmet. Jesla wasn't here. So where was she?

“You're a Guild traitor, Mando. And I'm willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape,” Toro says, referring to the Child in his arms.

“Where's Jesla?” Din questions, watching him carefully. He knew he could get out of this, but he couldn't find out where Jesla was if Calican was dead.

Toro smirks as he shrugs. “Oh, you mean your little girlfriend? I killed her. She wasn't really my type,” he answers smugly. Din closes his eyes briefly. It was just another casualty in his life.

“You're not exactly mine either.”

Din turns to look behind him to see a pissed off Jesla holding her left side where she was apparently shot. Toro's eyes widen as he takes a couple steps back. “Wha... How? I killed you,” he says quietly as he starts to panic.

Jesla's eyes harden as she stares at him. “It takes a lot to kill me, kid,” she snarls, raising her hand up towards him. Toro lifts up in the air, dropping the Child and his blaster as he starts to choke. The mechanic scrambles to get the Child and goes back to stand with the Mandalorian, both of them watching the scene before them. Jesla tightens her fist and kills Toro, his body falling limply to the ground.

She then stumbles backwards, Din quickly going to go steady her. Jesla clenches her teeth as the pain surges through her. Mando picks her up bridal style and carries her inside the Razor Crest, setting her down in the hangar.

“I told you I would kill him,” Jesla jokes, laughing but quickly regretting it as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Mando lifts up her shirt, examining her wound. “I'm gonna go get the kid, then I'm going to patch you up, okay?” He tells her, standing back up. Jesla nods and he heads out down the ramp, returning a couple minutes later with the Child. He sets him down and rushes up to the cockpit to get them the hell off Tatooine.

The Child watches Jesla curiously, tilting his head. Jesla rests her head against the wall, trying to control her breathing. She doesn't notice the Child walk up to her, his eyes fixated on her wound. He raises his hand and closes his eyes.

He gets stopped by the Mandalorian picking him up and setting him to the side. “Not now, kid,” Din mumbles, looking through his med-pack for a bacta patch. He looks up to see Jesla's head lull to the side, her eyes closed.

“Hey! You have to stay awake until I get you situated,” Din orders her, making Jesla snap her head up at the sternness of his voice. She slowly nods, trying her best to keep her eyes open.

Din watches her struggle to stay awake as he finally finds a bacta patch. He had to keep her awake if she was going to live through this. His eyes drift down to her tattoos on her wrist that were slightly uncovered by her glove. They were three different symbols; a line, a knot, and a cross.

“What do those mean?” He asks her, gesturing to her wrist.

Jesla lifts her wrist up to her face, squinting at them. She swallows hard before answering. “They're for my brothers... Blank, Knot, and Cross,” she informs him, dropping her hand back in her lap.

Mando nods as he gently places the patch on her wound, making her hiss slightly. “You have brothers?” He had to keep her talking for a little longer.

“Not by blood, no. They were the clones in my squad. We were all close to each other... They were all killed on Burnin Konn during Operation Cinder,” Jesla shares, licking her chapped lips. Din looks up from his work on the patch to her, Jesla looking away from him.

After a few seconds, he looks back to the bacta patch, making sure it was placed correctly. “I'm sorry... The bacta patch should be working now, so you can rest. I'll be in the cockpit if you need me,” he tells her as he picks up the Child and heads to the ladder.

“What about you?” Jesla calls, making him stop and turn back to face her. “Why do you hate droids? I mean, I know they're annoying and all, but... You just seem to hate them.”

Din turns back to the ladder, going up a step, but stops again. He turns to look at her again from over his shoulder. “They killed my parents,” he says before continuing up the ladder and into the cockpit.

Jesla looks after him, sighing as she rests her head back against the wall. At least something good came out of all this.

She had finally gained the Mandalorian's trust.

××××××

@living-that-best-life

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ansgar-martinsson · 5 years ago

Text

The Best Intentions - Part 6

Ansgar clicked the button on the car-shaped keyfob, and his cherry red car chirped and the boot schussed open in response.

“Ooh, a Tesla,” Joline intoned. “Nice car.”

“I know,” Ansgar quipped. “Ever been in one?”

She shook her head. “Nuh uh. Heard a lot about them, though.”

He strode to the rear of the car, and bent over the boot. He took out his helmet, a matte-carbon and mirrored AGV, and laid that on the tarmac beside him. “Well,” he said, smiling to himself, “maybe after we take your ride for a spin, we can take mine.” He straightened up, and dangled the fob in front of her, just as she did him. “You can even drive it.”

Her eyes blew wide and she clasped her hands together close to her heart, like a child waiting for a bag of candy from her grandmama. She fist pumped, her face squinching with unabashed glee. “Yes!”

The sight of her, earnest as she was, lifted Ansgar’s spirit, just that little bit.

He laughed and turned his attention back to the boot of his car. He retrieved and shook out a black leather motorcycle jacket - a Switchback jacket, emblazoned with “Harley Davidson” in shades of grey across the back. Various patches decorated the sleeves and the breast – a Swedish flag, an American flag, a massive roaring lion’s head, a Sturgis patch with crossed pistols, an ascending eagle, and a straight razor that read simply, “Revenge”.

“Where’d you get that?” Jo stepped forward and reached her hand toward the jacket. “May I? Is this yours?”

“Of course it’s mine.” He chucked it to her, and she caught it deftly. “I bought it in Sturgis, South Dakota. In America.”

“I know where Sturgis is. What were you doing there?”

He chuckled as he continued to rummage through the trunk. “I went there for the rally, of course.”

“You… you ride?” she blinked and clutched the jacket to her breast.

“Why do you think I keep my gear in my car? I didn’t just pack this up this morning, you know.” He winked.

“I… I can’t believe you ride.”

“What’s so hard to believe?” He laughed as he toed off his loafers and stepped into a low slung pair of black Ariat boots, talking as he set his shoes in the trunk, as he took his jacket back from her and shimmied into it, as he fitted a pair of black leather gloves over his hands. “I have a Triumph of my own. A 1972 TR6. Not to mention I spent quite a bit of time on the back of a 2015 Harley Softail in the US a while ago.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Sturgis,” she whispered.

“Perhaps some day you can.” He bent and picked up his helmet, tucking it under his arm. “It’s that dream thing again, Joline. You can do whatever you set your mind to.” He smiled and held up his hand. “And don’t worry. I’m not going to go lecturing you or flapping my gums again.”

She cringed. “Er…maybe I shouldn’t have said –”

“No! I’m glad you did,” he smiled, gesturing for her to walk before him. “Few people would dare speak to me like that. I don’t believe I’ve had anyone tell me that I’m flapping my gums, with the distinct exceptions of my twin brother and my wi–” He stopped and swallowed hard. He looked away, feigning a check of the crossing traffic as he brought his facial features back under control. “Well, just know that I appreciate your candor, and I expect more of it from you from here on out.”

He shifted his helmet from one arm to the other as they approached the bike. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the piece of machinery before him from top to tail. He rest his gloved hand on the gas tank and glided it back over the seat. He whistled appreciatively. “She’s a beauty, Joline,” he said. “Great condition. Absolutely cherry. You must take meticulous care of her.” He crouched down and set his hand on the rear tire. “She has Marchesini wheels as well. Impressive.” Looking up at her, he asked, “Did you put those on yourself?”

“Joline?”

The portrait of a man in leather beside her bike was nearly her undoing. When she offered Ansgar her ride, she assumed a quick spin around the city center. But the man, as he proved from the first moment they met, didn’t do anything by half. Go big, go strong or fuck right off. The smell of leather, male pheromone and wheat rolled off him in a steady current making her lightheaded and woozy with attraction.

Ansgar tried again when she didn’t respond, “Joline?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, her head in a cloud of lust.

“The Marchesini wheels? Did you put those on?”

Joline snapped to, rejoining the conversation, “Oh, I-I-I did,” she bragged over her most prized possession. Looking chuffed to bits that he noticed, she pressed on, “My… uh, my, my dad was a J&P man- all the way, but those were rough as fuck. The handling felt as smooth as rocks in a blender. Riding from Stockholm to Vaxholm was an exercise in masochism. I swiped ‘em out, replaced the spring forks,” she pointed to the part near the front wheel, “and the rear shock absorber. Now Nightingale, she flies.”

He didn’t fully commit to a grin, but admired her work. He picked up on the nickname for her ride. “Nightingale?”

Jo beamed, affectionately patting the leather seat with a flat slap. “Nightingale. Dad named her, and it stuck.”

“Matches your art,” he nodded at the inside of her arm where he spotted her tattoo.

She dropped her gaze to the sidewalk, a lump of sadness forming in her throat. She swallowed it, pushed it aside for the sake of conversation. She took a breath and shed her leather jacket off her left shoulder. “I got it on the one year anniversary of dad’s death.”

A small blue outline of a nightingale bird sat on the inside of her arm, under the bend of her elbow, wings in flight, no more than three inches long. Underneath a Florence Nightingale quote graced her flesh: Live life when you have it.

“Dad used to tell me that all the time.” She nodded at the text. “I honored him that way, I missed his reminders.” Tears filled her eyes, but she managed to blink them away. A weak smile broke the moment and she recovered smoothly with a shrug. “Still raw from it, I guess.”

Ansgar softened his gaze and gave a sympathetic apology, “A touching tribute. I’m sure he’d be proud.”

“Thank you. Now… uh…” she threw her jacket back on her shoulder, “let’s ride!” She replied with a bit more gusto than completely genuine.

He seated his helmet it place upon his head, adjusting the visor in place and nodded for her to do the same. One long leg swung over the top of her bike, and his hips settled into the seat, hand poised on the clutch.

Jo’s eyes went a little wonky witnessing his mount, but she reeled in the hormone show before he noticed. She watched in further appreciation as he righted the bike and started it like the expert rider he claimed to be.

“Get on! Hold onto me!” he ordered through the helmet.

She jumped perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, her waist in line with his, her legs outlining his, her hands gripping the leather of his belt. He was solid and firm and so warm, she felt another rush of blood to her head.

Ansgar eased into traffic fully in control of the bike beneath him, and possibly the woman clutching at his waist. Her grip tightened at intervals depending on the speed they traveled or how close other vehicles got to them. But there was underlying trust in the hold on him, she didn’t fear for her safety, it was more a show of confidence in his skill.

He drove out onto Strombron, past the ships on the water on Skeppsbron, passing by Fotografiska, another Martinsson Construction account. He navigated his way through traffic, the odometer pushing the legal limit just enough for the thrill of riding, but under the traffic camera radar. He signaled where appropriate, but also maintained this air of wild freedom, a flirt of recklessness, but never too much.

Jo didn’t know where he was headed, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Did you… did you say twin brother?” Joline wasn’t sure she’d heard right. Her blood soared and her ears rang on the riding high. It had also been the better part of an hour ago. Ansgar pulled off and parked in one of the famed observatory parks that he’d had his hand in at the beginning. He sat in a bench along the edge watching with little interest as joggers, parents and tourists go about their way. But he lorded over the place as if he owned it. His legs sprawled to the width of his elbows hiked upon the wooden slats of the bench back. Joline restrained herself from hopping in the middle of those impressively muscled legs by forcing herself to sit on her own hands. She hadn’t the first inkling how she’d held onto to him while they rode without embarrassing herself. She’d the opportunity to take advantage and yet, somehow, maintained her dignity. Ansgar only seemed to be testing the boundaries of her restraint. You can’t have him, Jo. Pull yourself together! Ansgar laughed at her very delayed question, turning an eye to her. “Yes. Twin. I have a twin.” There are two of you sexy motherfuckers walking around?! “Congrats!” She said outloud. “For what?” She suddenly blurted a tiny snippet of some of the cleaner ideas running about her head at the speed of light. “The genes… impressive fucking genes in your family.” And that was the clean version. “Your family’s been blessed, with not one, but two sexy men.” He delighted in the freedom of her tongue and the way she said it, without a trace of embarrassment or terror; she owned it. “Do you find me sexy, Joline?” She propped her elbow on the park bench’s back, rotated in his direction and stared at him. “You don’t need me to stroke your ego. You know that everyone finds you sexy. Even that guy,” she jutted her chin at the runner that gave Ansgar a full model survey… three times on his way past.

#the best intentions

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punkpeqqy · 7 years ago

Text

the fantastic @bidianaprinxe tagged me! (i’m not tagging anyone because it took me an hour to do this at work and i’ve got several fires to put out)

drink: coffee

phone call: my aunt

text message: to hector

song you listened to: “build god, then we’ll talk” panic! at the disco

time you cried: currently crying tears of frustration

dated someone twice: no

kissed someone and regretted it: no

been cheated on: no

lost someone special: yes

been depressed: yes

gotten drunk and thrown up: yes

FAVOURITE COLOURS:

eggplant

charcoal

navy

oxblood

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

made new friends: yes

fallen out of love: no

laughed until you cried: yes

found out someone was talking about you: yes

met someone who changed you: no

found out who your friends are: yes

kissed someone on your facebook list: no

GENERAL:

how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: most of them, i think

do you have any pets: logan!

do you want to change your name: i have to because billie piper thinks my last name is swamp

what did you do for your last birthday: went out and ended up getting roofied.

what time did you wake up: 6:31am

what were you doing at midnight last night: sleeping

name something you can’t wait for: this week to be over. the fob show.

when was the last time you saw your mom: christmas 2016

what are you listening to right now: the ac

have you ever talked to a person named tom: i think so? probably?

something that is getting on your nerves: people who don’t know how to act on public transit

most visited website: gmail,

haircolour: dark neutral brown number 2

long or short hair: short-ish

do you have a crush on someone: no? because we’re dating?

what do you like about yourself: definitely not my ability to make chia pudding. i fucked that up.

want any piercings: i want my nose pierced

blood type: i’ve honestly got no idea

nickname: kat

zodiac: pisces

pronouns: she/her

favorite tv show: grey’s anatomy

tattoos: so many

right or left handed: right

surgery: wisdom teeth removal

piercing: yes

sport: hockey

vacation: i’m going to the wwohp this winter!

pair of trainers: converse

MORE GENERAL:

eating: currently? nothing

drinking: coffee

im about to: fling myself into the sun. no, i’ve got a social media meeting that i need to prepare for.

waiting for: this weekend

want: a billion dollars

get married: not necessary

career: writer/editor

WHICH IS BETTER:

hugs or kisses: hugs, i think

lips or eyes: lips

shorter or taller: taller

older or younger: older

nice arms or nice stomach: both pls, but if i have to choose then arms

hook up or relationship: relationship

troublemaker or hesitant: trobulemaker

HAVE YOU EVER:

kissed a stranger: yes

drank hard liquor: yes

lost glasses/contact lenses: nope

turned someone down: yes

sex on the first date: yes, i have

broken someone’s heart: yes

had your heart broken: no

been arrested: no

cried when someone died: yes

fallen for a friend: yes

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

yourself: sometimes

miracles: no

love at first sight: no, that’s lust

Santa Claus: no

kiss on the first date: ça dépend

angels: eh

OTHER:

current best friend’s name: swamp family and associates

eye colour: blue/grey

favorite movie: moulin rouge

#tag game

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lesbrarians · 8 years ago

Text

Junkrat/Roadhog: Voyages Ch 11

Title: Voyages

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary: After a rocky start and some ups and downs, Junkrat and Roadhog are officially partners, even if things haven’t progressed quite as far as Junkrat would like. With his treasure at the heart of their grandiose plans, they take their adventures overseas and leave their mark on the world, for better or worse. (Mostly for worse. They’re criminals.) Sequel to “Origins.”

---

It was hard, finding a place in the congested city that they could successfully hijack as a base of operations. Nothing stayed empty for long, leaving very little in the way of housing options. After searching for a while, they no longer bothered to keep an eye out for an elusive abandoned place to serve as home. Living in the streets worked for them -- until the skies opened up. It was freezing and biting, a kind of rain Junkrat had never experienced in the arid climate of the Outback, not even on the nights where it was cold enough for a frost to form.

Junkrat swore heavily as they searched for cover. They could only linger in stores for so long before they started arousing suspicion. They had yet to build a reputation as a pair of criminals in Beijing, but their very appearance, coupled with generally shifty behaviour, was cause for alarm.

They overturned a recently emptied recycling dumpster and sat inside it, using it as a makeshift roof. From their vantage point in the alleyway, they could see the throngs of pedestrians braving the elements, some scurrying for cover with soggy newspapers held over their heads, others walking briskly with their heads down and umbrellas in hand. Across the street, an omnic left its apartment tower, rubber gum boots and a wide-brimmed rain hat on to protect the more sensitive bits of its machinery.

Junkrat scowled. “Look at that smug little bastard. He gets a roof over his head and we don’t? He’s a bloody machine, s’not like he gets cold!”

Roadhog grunted in agreement. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“No, he doesn’t!” Junkrat said, full of righteous indignation. He rubbed his hands together. They were clammy from the cold and wet, and he hated it. “Maybe if we, ah, asked him nicely, he’d be willing to loan us his place.”

Roadhog snorted. “Worth a shot.”

“Yeah, what’s the harm in tryin’?” Junkrat snickered and ducked back out into the downpour. He picked up a piece of rusty metal piping and tapped it against the palm of his mechanical hand. It made a menacing, rhythmic clink as he approached the omnic, who was fumbling to lock up his apartment.

Junkrat opened his mouth to shout “hey!” -- but only half of the syllable made it out before a hand clamped over his mouth. He dropped the pipe in surprise, then wrenched his head down and away, curling in on himself as much as he could manage. Experience and sheer faith told him that Roadhog wouldn’t hesitate to blow off his assailant’s head, and Junkrat wanted to give him the clearest line of sight possible.

His attacker dropped to the ground, Junkrat beneath him, just as a shot rang out, a lethal projectile whistling through the air above them.

All the wind had been knocked out of Junkrat when he hit the ground, but once he recovered, he elbowed the man in the gut and wormed his way out from beneath him. A Junker had once called him a slippery little rat as an insult, but he considered it an ability to be proud of.

Roadhog reached them in record time. He grabbed Junkrat’s attacker by the neck and hauled him upright. It was then that Junkrat realised that he had assumed wrong, and the person was a she -- a butch woman with a short haircut and interlocking Venus symbols tattooed on her cheek. Small in stature but powerfully built, she looked like a dangerous criminal, with a bullish expression and a staggering amount of tattoos peeking out from beneath the cuffs of her sleeves and the collar of her black jacket. Junkrat desperately wanted to take off his sweater so he could flash his own tattooed bicep in return, but he was soaking wet and shivering. He thought better of it.

“Oh, by the Iris,” breathed a voice behind them. In all the commotion, Junkrat had nearly forgotten about his initial target. He looked over his shoulder to find the omnic quivering in its gum boots. It dropped its keys twice before it ran in the opposite direction, one hand clutching its hat to its head and the other gripping an umbrella.

Nobody was pleased. Junkrat and the woman locked eyes, both thoroughly sour over the loss of their prey.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Roadhog growled. Likely the only reason why he hadn’t done so already was because he, like Junkrat, was curious about why she had intervened. She certainly didn’t look like an omnic sympathiser. The woman answered in Mandarin, slowly and deliberately reaching for her pocket. Junkrat picked up his pipe and wielded it like a bat. Roadhog cocked his gun.

The woman withdrew an innocuous looking device, and Junkrat lowered his weapon slightly. It didn’t look dangerous; it was a small clip-on gadget, similar in size and shape to the key fob for Roadhog’s motorcycle. With a twiddle of her thumb on a side dial, the woman directed her next words into the device.

“You have no idea who you’re messing with,” the device translated, the English words mimicking the woman’s raspy intonation perfectly -- Junkrat wouldn’t have realised it was machine-translated if he hadn’t witnessed it himself.

The red dot of a laser winked onto Roadhog’s forehead and hovered there.

Junkrat was surrounded by water, but his mouth went perfectly dry. “Let her go, ‘Hog,” he managed. He let his pipe clatter to the sidewalk, eyes darting around for the source of the sniper, but he noticed nothing unusual. It took a lot to scare him -- hell, a healthy dose of fear would have kept him out of more than one bad scrape, but fear was a commodity he sorely lacked -- but the thought of Roadhog taking a bullet to the brain terrified him.

Roadhog released her and lowered his gun. The red laser dot remained in place.

“You cost me big,” the woman said. There was a slight amount of delay between her native language and its translation. “That was my mark.”

“Didn’t see yer name on it--” The words fell out of Junkrat’s mouth before he realised that it was unwise to antagonise someone who had their sights set on Roadhog’s head. He clamped his mouth shut, but the device was already spitting out a translation into Mandarin.

The woman’s lip curled. “You didn’t see the symbol?” She jerked her head at a small piece of graffiti on the side of the building, a red emblem that had entirely escaped Junkrat’s notice. It reminded him of the crude symbols that delineated different gangs in Junkertown. He was beginning to think he had made a grave error in going after this particular omnic. “You must be new here.” She clipped the device to her jacket’s collar and folded her arms. With a wave of her hand, the red dot disappeared. “Come with me. You lost me this, you’re making up for it. Don’t try anything funny. There are still eyes on you.”

Unsettled, Junkrat looked around for the hidden sniper again. He glanced at Roadhog and shrugged. Getting involved with a dangerous Chinese triad hadn’t been on his agenda for the day, but if it meant getting out of the rain, he’d take it.

The downpour began to lessen as they followed the woman through a maze of streets that occasionally looped back on each other, as if she was trying to ensure they wouldn’t be able to find their way to her base of operations on their own.

“What’d you want with that omnic anyhow?” Junkrat asked. “I was just gonna beat him up and take his key.”

“I know. And you would have ruined him for me. I need his internal workings.”

“What, like robot organs? Is there some kinda black market for robot parts?”

“Something like that.”

“Omnic organ trading. I love it.”

“Good. Because you’re going to be helping me to pay off your debt. That omnic we lost had a valuable set of servos that could have paid my rent for the next three months.” Junkrat didn’t know enough about paying for housing to tell just how expensive this was, but judging from her bitter tone, he gathered that it cost a pretty penny.

“I can get on board with that,” he said. “Do ya kill them afterwards?”

“Sometimes. If we’re taking their essentials. They’re usually good enough for other purposes.”

Roadhog spoke up. “A trafficking ring.”

They took her silence as a yes.

“Well, ‘sometimes’ is good enough for me!” Junkrat said jovially. “So, I reckon if we’re gonna be workin’ together, we probably oughta know yer name. Junkrat speakin’, and the big guy over there’s Roadhog.”

“You can just call me Lee.” She did not seem inclined to elaborate further. Junkrat attempted to fill the awkward silence that ensued, but all his conversation starters fizzled into nothing. After his pointing out a dead pigeon failed to garner any interest, he decided to shut up. Mostly because Roadhog gave him a look that managed to say stop talking, even with his expression obscured by his mask.

The rest of the walk was quiet. They finally arrived at a massive, derelict warehouse. Lee keyed in a passcode. Both Junkrat and Roadhog wrung out their sweaters and shook themselves off, grateful to be out of the rain, while Lee stood aside, dripping dispassionately on the concrete floor and doing nothing about her appearance beyond slicking back her short hair.

“Finished?” she asked sardonically. She led them down a long hallway that emptied into a large room. Stacked with crates, it looked like the central den of operations. A few gang members had made an attempt to make it livable, with a handful of sleeping bags spread out on the ground and a table that appeared to have multiple overlapping card games in progress. If they tipped their heads back, they could see the dark grey blanket of clouds through a skylight, the torrential downpour leaving streaks on the filthy windowpanes.

On the far side of the room stood an omnic encircled by humans, its back turned to the door and hands clasped behind its back -- tied together, Junkrat assumed. It was hard to read its height from a distance, but he had the impression that it was tall, and it was noticeably robust, with broad shoulders and a thickly plated chest. It looked like someone capable of taking more than a few hits. A real challenge.

Junkrat rubbed his hands together. “Got yerselves a big one there, eh? What, are ya gutting it? ‘Cause I’d love to volunteer my services...”

Lee glanced back at him. “No, and don’t let him catch you saying that.”

Junkrat snorted. “Like I couldn’t take it? Me and my mate here, we’d have it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t we, ‘Hog?”

“Yes.”

Lee wheeled around to face them. “I said, don’t let him catch you saying that,” she growled. “He’s our Boss.”

Junkrat couldn’t help it. He pointed his finger at the omnic and screeched, “That’s your boss? It’s a bloody omnic!”

Lee shrugged. “And he’s good at what he does. If it wasn’t for us, he’d be running a business. It was his job, I guess, being a backup if his company’s bigwig couldn’t make it to a meeting. He got tired of being in his shadow, killed the poor son of a bitch, and left. Free will and all.”

Junkrat was apoplectic. “It doesn’t have free will! It’s following its damn programming and bein’ a business leader, just for a gang instead of a suit, that’s not free will, that’s -- why would ya even want it as yer leader, I--”

He felt Roadhog’s steadying hand on his shoulder, grounding him long enough to take a deep breath. By now they had garnered the attention of most of the other gang members, although their leader still hadn’t turned around. Junkrat gestured rudely at its back.

“Likewise,” the omnic replied in perfect English.

Junkrat froze, hand still mid-air. A pair of thin incisions on the back of the omnic’s head glowed bright red, and he realised with a trickling sense of dread that they were eyes. He didn’t like the idea of something having eyes in the back of its head. Bloody unnatural, he thought.

“Lee, who are these?” the omnic continued, switching to its native Mandarin.

Lee left Junkrat and Roadhog behind to step closer. “Boss, I had to intervene, they ruined my objective--”

The translator device was still activated, and Junkrat could hear the muffled beginnings of their argument before Lee realised it was still repeating everything they said and switched it off.

“What did I say about violence against westerners, it draws too much attention, we don’t need to unnecessarily complicate things--”

They furiously whispered at each other in Mandarin until they finally seemed to reach an accord. The Boss turned to look at Junkrat and Roadhog. “You’ll be accompanying Lee on her next venture. We’ll decide where to go from there. That’ll be all.”

Junkrat had the impression that he had just been dismissed, and he did not like it at all. He was a free Junker, nobody told him what to do. “That’ll be all,” he sneered. “No, you listen, I gotta few questions first.” The first was the most pressing. “If yer an omnic, why’re ya traffickin’ them? How do I know yer not makin’ some kinda -- some kinda evil robot army with all this?”

The omnic spread his hands wide. “Why do humans traffic other humans? They’re inferior models and make for good labor. As for the second part, I suppose you don’t. Just know that others have questioned my motives...” He gestured at the group of humans around him, who nodded. “And none of them are capable of questioning further. Next question?”

Junkrat was not impressed. He had been on the receiving end of more intimidating threats. “Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t. Just like I imagine I shouldn’t trust you.”

“Yeah, ya really shouldn’t.”

“But you’ve sorely inconvenienced my operations, and I am offering you an opportunity to work out your apparent aggression towards my kind. So for the time being, we should work together.”

Junkrat considered it. The ramifications of refusing could be severe, and he had pissed off enough people as it was. Besides, being around omnics and their body parts could provide the inspiration he needed for hatching a new plan to execute their god program. “Deal,” he said.

Neither of them offered a hand to shake.

Lee led them back to the warehouse’s main door. “He’s a lost cause now, thanks to you, but meet me outside that omnic’s apartment tomorrow. Eleven o’clock in the morning. I’ll know where you are if you don’t show. We have eyes and ears all over this city.”

“Give us a better reason to show,” Roadhog said.

“Yeah!” Junkrat piped in. “We don’t work for free.”

Lee scowled at them. “You’re repaying a debt, you’re not getting paid. You already cost us enough today.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Junkrat said. “We both lost out on that one, we didn’t get anything out of it ourselves!”

Lee stared at them, eyes flicking over to Junkrat’s mechanical arm and leg. “Fine,” she finally said. “If anything we get turns out to be a dud, you can have it. Use its parts for your prosthetics.”

“Fair enough.” Junkrat was satisfied with this idea.

Lee scrolled open the door for them, and Junkrat let out an audible groan when he saw that it was raining again. Lee had already turned away to leave them to their fate and was unclipping her device when she paused. “Dixia Cheng.”

“Dixia what?”

She clicked the scroll wheel on the side of her translator. “The underground city. Check out the underground city,” she said, “if you need a place to sleep.” She continued walking.

Junkrat and Roadhog looked at each other, then ran after her, leaving the warehouse door gaping. Gusts of rain and wind blew in behind them. “Wait, wait,” Junkrat said. “Y’can’t just say somethin’ like that and leave -- what underground city?”

“It’s an old bomb shelter complex. From the Cold War era, it was Chairman Mao’s idea. I’ve never been inside -- no one I know has been aside. My grandfather visited it once when he was a child, when parts of it were a tourist attraction, but he’s long dead. Barely anyone is aware it exists anymore, and most of the entrances are lost.”

“Then... how are we supposed to find it?”

“I said, most are lost. My grandfather supposedly knew of three, but today, I have only heard of where one used to be. It’s walled off, but...” she glanced down at the grenade canisters in the harness Junkrat had slung around his waist. “I don’t think that will be much of a problem for someone like you.”

Junkrat puffed his chest out, hands on his hips. “Sure it won’t be! No wall’s ever stood in my way before.”

“Where is it?”

Junkrat tuned out the directions that Lee gave them -- he wasn’t going to remember them anyway, Roadhog could take care of it -- and instead struggled with pulling the back of his sweater over his head.

“You look ridiculous,” Roadhog told him when he turned back to face him.

“Least I’ll be dryer than you!” Junkrat retorted.

“And colder.”

Junkrat looked down at the bare stretch of torso that was exposed as a result of attempting to use his sweater as a hood. “Eh, it’s a tradeoff.”

Lee shook her head and headed back down the hallway with nary a goodbye.

“Hold on,” Junkrat called after her. “How are we supposed to find our way back to that apartment from this underground city place?”

A nasty smile played on Lee’s lips. “Good luck.”

#junkrat #roadhog #roadrat #overwatch #origins #voyages #my fanfiction

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westfivestory · 6 years ago

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This month has been interesting, I was hoping, and I do mean hoping, fingers crossed and everything, that this weather would let up, and some days it did, but quickly reverted back to the depths of hell cold whenever it got the chance. I for one am sick of the weather. I watch my cat for weather changes a lot of the time. We have one that as soon as fall takes a turn she packs on the weight, this year she didn’t as much and it stayed fairly mild, at least up until New Years, clearly her weather vane is not functioning at optimal levels.

Mikayla is finally sleeping better for the most part, the medication the doctor put her on did work for the time she was on it, and upon the end of the prescription her sleep was interrupted again, since then we attempted a few other things since she couldn’t remain on the meds. Physio was one of those things. It is helping with the pulling in her leg, for the most part, but there is still the combination of pillow propping under her knees, under her feet and of course fluffing her pillow under her head. These key ingredients along with her trusty massage pad under her legs is an absolute must. Or we are back to utter exhaustion. Oh and even though she is sleeping better, I have apparently trained myself to wake up at the allotted times that I was getting up with her. Lucky me. So most nights I wake myself up, somehow, at 3:30, 5 and 6 and then at 6:30 the alarm starts and I hit snooze for the next 30 minutes or so just to feel like I can function.

Mikayla and I had read You. Great book by the way if you are looking for something to get completely lost in. Now its a Netflix show. So it became a bit of an obsession. We watched it together, and discussed it, fully analyzing all aspects and differences between the book and the series. There were a few. But all in all, both are great and very easy to lose yourself in if you need an escape.

Mikayla listens to her Spotify most mornings and evenings as we are getting ready for work and school and making supper in the evenings. One evening in particular, she was singing along to something and out of nowhere Parish piped up, “We get it Mikayla, you can sing”, I laughed. She sounded so much like her great grandma that of course they never met. The comment instantly reminded me of the time I was shopping with my grandparents and my grandpa was singing and humming under his breath, but loudly enough that you could hear him. My grandma marched up to him, coughed to get his attention and said, “Art, the talent scout has left the building.” For a moment, it didn’t register and he continued on, until it did and he kind of cleared his throat, coughed and shuffled on.

The washing machine broke down. My Maytag Maxima front load. I have had it for I think 12 years, I could be wrong, but anyway the constant error code E01 and F09 kept coming up and it wouldn’t drain at all. So frustrating. I have fixed this issue once before without warranty and for the cost could likely have paid for 3/4 of a new machine. Not doing that again. Anyway, I weighed the options out there and discussed with friends, co-workers and family. After shopping around I finally purchased a new washer from Leon’s. M took me there with her truck so if we could take it immediately at least we had a way to get it. Luckily, they had it in stock. We took it then and her and my neighbor came and helped install it. We couldn’t get the hoses unattached from the old machine so T came over with a wrench. I have minimal tools.

What I settled on?

Another Maytag, top load, still the commercial technology that the front load had, but I am actually really happy with this so far. I’m hoping that my happiness will continue and I won’t see an error code for a very long time, if ever…fingers crossed.

Gunnar turned 7. My little guy is getting so grown up.

For his birthday, as usual I took the day off and pulled him out of school. After dropping Juno off for a spa day to deshed, bathe and trim her nails, we were off to Winnipeg.

We went to Crock-a-Doodle. I was a little nervous about taking him there since he is a 7 year old boy, is he going to have any interest in choosing and painting a ceramic piece. Clearly I had no reason to worry, he absolutely loved it. We worked on one piece together, a wolf.

He wasn’t too happy that he had to leave it there to be fired, but he was happy he would be bringing it home on Sunday.

From there we went to Za Pizza Bistro for lunch and we shared a pizza, he chose his toppings for his half and I chose mine for the other half. Together we finished the whole pizza.

The one thing he wanted to do for his birthday was go to the Walmart Mall, so off to St Vital we went. There we ended up with a new video game for him and he tried out the Magic 9D place, he wasn’t overly thrilled with it. I guess he isn’t into VR like his brother.

Later that week I ran an event at work where he got to volunteer, he was in his glory getting to have his picture taken and have it printed for him to take home, honestly with that and airbrush tattoos, what could be better.

We came home from this event to the cat having broken into the turtle cage. O’Malley broke in, not to free the turtle, but to eat it. She dragged it out into the living room and thankfully we were able to rescue it and aside from a scratch it was fine. At least for that time.

Fast forward five days.

Amid some house cleaning, the battery charger and battery that we had placed on top of the cage to prevent the cat from breaking in, had been removed and put away, with of course the best of intentions. I didn’t notice until it was too late. The cat broke in to the cage overnight. It has now been a little over a week and there have been no signs or smells of the poor turtle. We think she ate the little guy, shell and all.

That same day, I came home from work and after making supper I proceeded downstairs to do a load of laundry. Half way down the stairs my foot slipped on the carpet and I went down the last half. I think I missed everything until I landed on the last step. Avoided injury to my tailbone and mildly bruised my butt, definitely not the end of the world there, but I did jam my fingers into the bottom step as I landed. A trip to the hospital confirmed that thankfully they are only sprained, so aside from discomfort assisting Mikayla and shaking hands with people I should live. In case I need support, they did tape them up for me, and of course Gunnar and Parish kept me company while waiting at the hospital.

I must have some kind of talent, really, who falls down the stairs and instead of the typical injury of tail bone etc., jams and sprains their fingers. So weird.

Driving back into Landmark after leaving the hospital, we narrowly avoided a collision. To the person who clearly has no idea about the right of way or the fact that there is not a four-way stop at the 206 and 210 intersection where you turned in front of me on to arena road, you are lucky the road wasn’t sheer ice and I was able to slam on the brakes and barely avoid t-boning your piece of shit car. I wanted to follow you home and knock you out for putting my family at risk. Maybe, think next time, since due to quick enough reflexes we are all still here to reminisce.

Next morning, as I am getting ready for work I push the button on my key fob to start my car…nothing. Its attempting, slightly, but nothing. I take the van and head over to Freedom Foods, maybe the battery in the key fob is dead. So back home, I replace the battery and try again. Nope that is not the issue. So I call Giesbrecht Mechanical. A says “can you look under the hood?” Um no, I can’t even get into the car. Then he informs me, there is a slide button on my key fob which releases an actual key. I had no clue, yes I am blonde and did wonder why I had a key hole in the door but never received a key. Oh well, live and learn. So now I can get into the car and pop the hood, but I still have nothing. So he comes over and boosts it, it starts instantly and as I go to leave I realize the reason for the car not starting. When we got home the night before, the passenger door was accidentally not fully closed and the light being on drained the battery. At least it was just a simple mistake and not another repair.

With all that goes on in our lives, its nice to get out once in awhile. I took Mikayla and J to Lorette Bar for a Karaoke Night. They had never been and even though we didn’t sing, they enjoyed themselves. They hung out with friends and I played pool for a bit while we listened to other people sing. There was a boy that was of interest. So unfortunately instead of going and talking to him, the decision was made to send the drunkest of the group to talk to him. I was playing pool against him. He came back to the pool table and just said “I was asked if I was single or gay” cause clearly those are the only options. Girls…I don’t even know what to say.

The next outing brought with it a little more culture. First we sampled some Italian cuisine at Olive Garden and from there, myself, Mikayla, J and her mom attended the Three Penny Opera production at The West End Cultural Centre.

It was interesting. The reason we went was because the cast was not entirely, but a fair portion, disabled in some degree. There were ASL interpreters in the audience to accommodate guests and a couple of the cast members were also deaf. It was a good evening.

The next day F came over for a second play date in a couple of days. This was a rematch. The first didn’t go so well as Gunnar decided to play a single player game with his friend but monopolized the controller and failed to give him a turn. So this time, they selected a two player game, Disney Infinity and his friend brought over some of his characters. They both seemed to have a much better time.

The weather accompanying the play date was awful. So cold and so windy. We got a little more snow on the driveway but no drifting due to all of the trees and direction of the wind. So clearing the driveway at home was easy. Getting into work the next morning was a different story. The parking lot was layered in drifts, I made it through, parked and plugged in before I went to assist my boss, who wasn’t so lucky. He was really stuck in the middle of the entrance drive. It took myself driving, and him and R pushing, after shoveling, to get him unstuck. It was amusing since just a week or so before him and J were discussing how Subarus are such great vehicles and can get through anything. Clearly we all have limits.

Tonight we attempted to Chase the Ace. I didn’t win and apparently it is still up for grabs. The pot is over $11,000. Guess next week the place will be packed again as people sit down to see how lucky they are. This was my first time playing. I can say hanging out and seeing some old friends is far more interesting than playing my ticket. It was nice to catch up, one friend I ran into I hadn’t seen in about 15-16 years. Time sure flies.

February 2019 This month has been interesting, I was hoping, and I do mean hoping, fingers crossed and everything, that this weather would let up, and some days it did, but quickly reverted back to the depths of hell cold whenever it got the chance.

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matrixcoin · 5 years ago

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Trade Show Giveaways Draw In Visitors

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The post Trade Show Giveaways Draw In Visitors appeared first on .

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newstfionline · 8 years ago

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World’s lamest cyborg?

Olivia Solon in River Falls, Wisconsin, The Guardian, 2 August 2017

I took two deep breaths, then a tattooed piercer called Andy stabbed me in the fleshy part of my hand between the forefinger and thumb, injecting a tiny microchip encased in a glass capsule the size of a large grain of rice. And so I became the world’s lamest cyborg.

The radio-frequency identification (RFID) chip, once registered, allows me to open doors, unlock computers and pay for items--provided those systems use the right software and have dedicated contactless chip readers.

For now that means that I can buy a KitKat from a vending machine in the canteen of a company called Three Square Market, based on the outskirts of River Falls, Wisconsin. The company, which provides self-service “micro markets” to businesses around the world, became the first in the US to offer these implants to all of its employees and a handful of journalists at a “chip party” this week.

The idea came earlier this year when the company’s vice-president of international development, Tony Danna, visited a co-working space called Epicenter in Sweden, which has been chipping staff since 2015.

“I was trying to sell them a market, but I was so intrigued by the chips,” he told the Guardian.

When he came back to Wisconsin, there was a “lot of excitement” about the technology among his colleagues, and the company decided to explore its potential, starting by chipping its own employees and experimenting with building custom software to trigger a range of experiences.

“When we saw it being used by other societies we thought, why not us?” said president and COO Patrick McMullan, acknowledging that the applications for the technology are fairly limited.

The program is entirely voluntary, but more than 50 of the company’s 80 staff have already signed up.

Marketing executive Katy Langer did not. “My concern is health effect. What’s going to happen down the road.”

Until Tuesday’s chip party, the biggest thing to happen to River Falls, a town with just 15,000 inhabitants, was its annual parade with marching bands and beauty queens rolling through town. But now the world’s media has descended--something Three Square Market hadn’t expected but is clearly thrilled by. The company even commissioned “I’ve been chipped” T-shirts to hand out to participants as an Instagrammable promotional tool.

Willing guinea pigs first signed waivers before lining up for piercer Andy to carry out the procedure in a room packed with around a dozen TV cameras, journalists and Three Square Market staff. Along one side of the room was a long table with drinks and snacks, including an improbably large plate of pickles, salsa and, in keeping with the theme, bowls of chips.

The non-edible chips are very similar to those implanted into the scruff of dogs’ and cats’ necks so they can be identified if they are stolen or run away, but with a little more memory for storing data.

The human chips are sold by a Swedish company called Biohax International, founded by Jowan Osterlund who said he was inspired by 1995 movie Johnny Mnemonic, in which Keanu Reeves plays a man who stores sensitive data in an implant. “That was it,” he told USA Today. “Ever since, I wanted to do this.”

In science fiction movies, microchips implanted under the skin are used to track individuals through dystopian metropolis like a GPS device. However, as with pet microchip technology, that’s not how it works. The implant is entirely passive, which means it has no power source and only becomes active when it is within a couple of inches of a reader. Think of it like a contactless credit or transit card. In terms of cyborg functionality, I’m much closer to a key fob than Robocop.

Where this kind of chip could be used for tracking is at the back end--by collecting data every time an employee makes a purchase, uses the photocopier, or enters the building.

When pressed on what the other applications could be, the company suggested that people could put their medical records or passport data on chips. More advanced chips with their own power sources could eventually be used for GPS tracking.

“We’ve had interest from parents of young kids who want to be able to implant their children with a GPS chip,” said Westby.

Almost all of the possible applications can be achieved through other means, like smart wristbands, ID cards or Apple Pay. Even without any gadget, there’s still biometric technology such as fingerprint scanning or facial recognition that is cheaper and doesn’t require a minor surgery.

To find out about some of the longer-term applications, the Guardian caught up with several biohackers, journalists and artists who have had implants for at least a year. For most of them, it’s little more than a gimmicky talking point.

Artist Meghan Trainor (not the singer), however, explored ideas of “human-machine interfaces, cyborg tropes, surveillance and bodily autonomy” for four years after she had her RFID chip implanted in 2003.

It now functions as “a poetic example of abandonware” that she’s “fairly certain” she’ll explore as a “vintage interface” some time in the future.

“But implants have not really significantly altered our experiences of technology the way smartphones, face-detection, hell even social media, have in the intervening years.”

To get mainstream adoption there will need to be a standardised payment protocol to allow individuals to swipe their hands across any reader--not just the one in the Three Square Market office--instead of using their credit card.

The closest these chips have come to anything like mainstream adoption is in Sweden, where Biohax International says it has implanted around 3,000. The most popular application is as a replacement for a transit card on the Swedish railway system.

Osterlund, who said he has told a total of 30,000 chips globally, argues that the technology is better than biometrics because you don’t run the risk of losing your fingerprint to hackers. The chip, unlike your fingerprints or face, can always be replaced or reconfigured.

In addition to being invasive, the chip attracts the wrath of some fundamental Christians, who see it as the “mark of the beast”. The fear stems from a passage in the Bible’s book of Revelation, where it talks of the mark of the beast on the forehead or right hand.

The chip’s creator sought to address these concerns in a “respectful fashion” by consulting with members of the clergy and theologists and coming up with a logical counter-argument. His inquiries found that word for “mark” comes from the original Greek word for “stigma” which can be translated as branding, scarification or tattoo, “but definitely not a biocompatible capsule with NFC circuitry”, said Osterlund.

Furthermore, he said, most people have the implant in their left hand; Satan prefers the right.

#chip implants #River Falls Wisconsin #Three Square Market

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