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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

More than just a game

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, oral, fingering, doxxing, stalking, and other explicit content.

This is dark!Jake Jensen and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a new gaming buddy but he sees you as more than that.

Note: So this is my first Jake Jensen fic and it was lots of fun so let me know what you think and hope you enjoy. :D

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Special shout-out to @navybrat817 for helping me with this idea

After too many nights scrolling through subreddits and searching for something to keep you distracted, you decided to bite the hook. Several other redditors agreed to hop on Minecraft and it had been a while since you logged in. You missed the almost relaxing ritual of mining and building.

You joined the chat, quick to hit the little microphone emblem as you listened to the voices in your headset. You learned long ago to keep your mic muted on the servers, especially with strangers. The last time you dared to speak up as a woman in a game chat, your DMs had become so overwhelmed you deleted and started a new account on Discord and changed your ID on Steam.

You were all given your tasks as players called out coordinates and you kept to chopping up the side of a mountain. You mostly worked alone, chatting through text instead of voice chat. As you placed a crafting table in your little mine, another player, JJ-Smooth, popped up and dropped some iron for you.

He stayed close but you didn’t mind. A lot of players tried to work together the deeper they got and you were used to it. As you uncovered some lava, he dumped water before you could get burned and helped you hack up the obsidian.

He thanked you on the voice chat but you knew any courtesy in return would earn you the attention of the entire server. So you dropped some gold for him and went on your way.

“I hear a zombie,” he warned.

You turned to hack up the undead before it could get you, only to be shot by a skeleton hidden on the next level. Another appeared and you died before you could hide, the bony villain killed by your ally as you watched your possession scatter over the death screen.

“Hey, I got your stuff,” he said as you loaded back up, “I’ll find you.”

You typed quickly in the chat, ‘sorry, mic busted, give me your coordinates and I’ll come to you.’

You waited as ‘JJ-Smooth is typing…’ appeared at the bottom and finally he sent the numbers. You hopped over the blocky hills and through the forests until you found the mine again. He was just outside and handed over all your tools and ration. He headed back into the mine and you followed him. This time, you began your own path in the opposite direction.

Before you knew it, you’d lost track of time. You sat back as you realised it was only you and JJ on the server. The silence should have tipped you off earlier. He was the host and you felt super awkward for staying so long. You typed that you were logging off for the night and thanked him.

You hit the keyboard with your knuckle and yawned as you opened the screen,

“God, it’s late,” you muttered.

“Hello?” he said.

Your eyes rounded as you looked at the mic symbol and the lack of red line made you cringe. You’d hit an extra button without noticing.

“Um, hi, sorry, I just--”

“Mic busted, huh?” he asked.

“No, I--” you didn’t know what to say, “anyways, I should--”

“So, you’re a chick? Is that why you mute?”

“Uh, well, it’s just… easier, sorry, I--” even if you weren’t trying to hide from gamer dudes, you weren’t the best at conversation.

“A gamer girl, nice,” he said and you sighed, “sorry, that sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” you touched your bottom lip as you cupped your chin, “it’s late, I have to work tomorrow.”

“You comin’ back?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“I don’t know--”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said abruptly, “promise, lips sealed.”

“I really don’t know if I can do this too much, I usually work early mornings so… yeah,” you said.

“I get it but you know you’re always welcome, hope you don’t mind if I send you an invite now and then. No pressure,” he offered.

“Uh, sure,” you shrugged, “okay, yeah, good night.”

You left the chat quickly and pulled off your headset. Shit.

‘I’m Jake by the way,’ a pm popped up, ‘gg.’

You typed back, ‘gg, it was fun’ and quickly logged out. You sat back and rubbed your eyes. Well, he didn’t seem like a total creep, maybe just a bit awkward but so were you. You shut down for the night and stretched out as you switched off the lamp. You were going to pay for your session in the morning.

🎮

A few nights later you got an invite to the server. You debated it but as it was Friday, you decided to make good use of the PC you’d saved up forever to build. You spawned in the middle of nowhere and built a bed before you found the half-finished settlement. You joined the chat but you must have been early as you were the only one there.

You headed back to the same mine, some work done since the first night, and laid your torches as you ventured into the depths. You jumped in your seat as a voice broke your peace.

“I don’t think anyone else is gonna join,” JJ-Smooth, or Jensen said, “you think maybe you’ll unmute?”

You stopped your mining and stared at the screen. You hovered over the mic button and re-read his name, he was the only other one there. You clicked and gave a strained smile to the screen.

“So, um, what’s the goal tonight?” you asked.

“Get some materials and go back to the settlement, keep building, oh, maybe we could try a portal, you ever gone to the nether?” he said but before you could reply he kept on, “shit, I shouldn’t assume, you seem like an experienced player.”

“Yeah, a few times, but I’m more a casual miner,” you went back to harvesting stone and ore.

“Ah,” he said, and it was silent for a moment, “so, you work again in the morning?”

“Not tomorrow,” you said as you focused on the game, “daycare isn’t open on the weekends.”

“A daycare, huh? That sounds fun, I love kids… not in a weird way but you know, I… urgh, I have a niece,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “nah, that’s cool though, sounds more fun than my gig.”

“Oh?” you turned and kept your axe moving.

“IT. You know, some people would be like ‘hey Jensen, why do you spend all your free time staring at a screen when that’s what you do at work?’” he scoffed, “well, who says I’m not mining there too.”

You wrinkled your forehead and gave a small laugh. He was rambling and it was kinda odd. You were happy for once not to be the strange one.

“But anyway,” he said, “I found lots of diamond over here. If we get some lapis lazuli we can build an enchanting table and get some sick armour.”

“Awesome,” you pressed your fingertips to your lip as you leaned on your elbow, “should try to head back before dark…”

“Hard to tell down here. How about you mine and I’ll keep an eye out for monsters?” he offered.

“Sure,” you agreed as he came onto your screen, “that works.”

🎮

Another week went by and you ventured back into the server a few times but not for very long as late nights did not mix with young children. The next weekend, you joined again on Saturday night and like the last few times it was just you and Jensen. You wondered why no one else was joining when the subreddit was so popular but you didn’t worry about it for long.

You mostly played in silence, Jensen did most of the talking and it was never about anything more than the game or his niece’s last soccer game. That night when you left the game, he kept typing on Discord.

‘I like playing with you,’ his message blipped up.

‘Same, thx.’

‘Really, you’re awesome.’

‘Thx :) Tired, gotta sleep.’

‘Sweet dreams.’

‘Night.’

You changed your status to offline and dragged yourself to bed. You opened your phone as you laid in the dark and went to the subreddit, you scrolled through the builds and screenshots of other people’s catastrophes.

You came to Jensen’s last invite post from that night but all the comments complained that the world code was incorrect. Hmm, you should tell him next time.

You blackened your cell and plopped it on your night table. You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow, the light still etched into your vision. You fell asleep quickly and woke the next day to another invite from Jensen.

‘How about some Fortnite? If you’re into it?’

‘Srry, can’t, my mom’s expecting me for lunch.’

‘2 bad, maybe later.’

‘Maybe’.

You got ready to go see your mother for your usual Sunday afternoon visit and it went by like any other. When she asked you what you’d been up to, you didn’t mention the gaming, she was never a fan of it. When you got back home, Jensen was messaging you again. You didn’t open the notification and settled in to catch up on some streaming before another week of work.

Monday hit you like a train and you were glad you hadn’t spent the night mining again. If you had, you doubted you’d even be able to open your eyes. You got to the daycare centre and welcomed in the kids. You got them set up for the morning snack then cleaned up as Sandy took them over to the reading circle.

You wiped the tables and then did some painting before you went out for some play time in the yard. As you watched several of the children on the swings, you glanced around. There was a man across the street. You squinted through the chain link as he seemed to be watching but assured yourself it was nothing as he quickly headed for the corner and disappeared.

Inside, the kids were due for quiet time, some napped and those who didn’t, stared at the ceiling and yawned. You could have joined them but knew that wouldn’t be acceptable. The end of the day came and you helped the kids pack up their paintings and their sweaters. You waited in the yard with them as the parents showed up and handed them off one by one.

You waved to Danika as she clung to her mother and your eye was once more drawn beyond the chain link. The same faded grey jacket, the same glasses, and the hat with the frayed brim. It was a better look at the man. Was he looking at you? Why on earth was he hanging around outside a daycare?

“Sandy,” you turned and lowered your voice as she neared, “see that man?”

She peeked over and shrugged, “which one? The guy crossing the street?”

You looked up again and like before, he was walking away casually as if he hadn’t just been staring through the fence. You shook your head and huffed. “Sorry, never mind.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she waved her fingers, “come on, let’s clean up.”

With the kids all sorted out, you went back in and tidied up the last of their mess. You and Sandy were friendly but like with any, you weren’t very talkative. You never really knew what to say but you were never unkind.

You pulled on your jacket and checked your purse for your phone and wallet. You checked the time and turned off the lights. You bid Sandy goodbye as she headed for her SUV and you took your usual route down the sidewalk towards your bus stop.

You stopped short as the man was there. You were paranoid, he must just be waiting for the same route. You approached and he turned to watch you as you sat on the bench. He smiled and the dread sank deep in your chest.

His rectangular glasses gave light to his blue eyes and a goatee trimmed his jaw. He was tall and well-built, you could tell even under his comic book tee. He was going to talk to you, another weirdo in the city.

“Hey,” his voice was chillingly familiar, “how was your day?”

You stared at him and blinked cluelessly. You looked around, it was only the two of you. You opened your mouth but you had to be wrong. He said your name and you winced.

“Jensen?” you breathed as you stood and squeezed the strap of your bag, “why? How--?”

“You weren’t answering me, I was worried,” he said, “just making sure you’re okay.”

“What the-- I don’t understand how--” He stepped closer and you backed up against the bench. “Don’t, I’ll scream.”

“Scream? Why? I’m just-- You know me, it’s me, Jensen.”

“You doxxed me?” you snapped, “what the hell?”

“No, I didn’t-- I’m just checking on you--”

“I don’t know you,” you said as your heart began to race, “so please, leave me alone,” you edged away from him, “and don’t message me again.”

You sprinted across the street and as you came up on the curb, you looked back at him. He watched you but didn’t follow. You could tell from there he wasn’t happy but the brim of his cap shadowed most of his face so you couldn’t guess if it was hurt or anger. You quickly spun away and continued down the next street to the nearest stop.

You couldn’t believe he’d just shown up like that. You couldn’t believe he would think that was okay. You couldn’t believe he’d think that much about you.

🎮

You blocked Jensen on Discord and left his world on Minecraft. That night you were shaky and nervous, afraid that he would show up at your apartment. Did he know where you lived? He must if he could figure out where you worked.

You didn’t open Steam that night. You paced your small apartment, jumping at every noise. Sleep didn’t come easily but in shallow spurts that left you even more tired. You watched over your shoulder as you walked to your stop and boarded with one eye on the door.

Work was little better as you found yourself distracted in the room full of toddlers. Sandy asked if you were okay as you kneaded play-do violently. You shook yourself out of your paranoia and assured her you were only short on sleep, not a complete lie.

You took out your phone when you stepped out for a small break. Your mom had called but you would have to get back to her when you had two hours to waste. There was another notification, that one from Discord, a friend request from JJ-NoRematch. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was and you declined it right away.

There were several others from Jensen, too. He followed your Insta, blocked; he followed your mostly empty twitter, blocked; and he even commented on your LinkedIn like a weird. You closed your phone and took a breath before you headed back into the kids, their voices rising in their excitement to go outside.

In the yard, you had another look around, expecting to see him there on the other side of the fence. You were slightly relieved when he wasn’t but still on edge. You joined a game of tag then watched several of the kids line up for the slide. You lost yourself in your job as you told yourself he must have gotten the hint, at least not to bother you irl.

Just like the day before, and every day, you left work and headed for your stop. He wasn’t there either and you sat down and phoned your mom, hanging up as the bus pulled up with a promise to call her again when you were home. At home, you felt almost normal again and checked your notifications; no more follows, no more requests, nothing.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday passed in a similar fashion. Each saw your anxieties less than the day before. You even resolved to open Steam and start a new world for yourself. You spent hours mining and almost fell asleep in your chair. When you nearly tipped over, you decided it was time for bed.

You slept better than you had all week and woke up before noon. You wanted to log right back on but you had life to deal with; groceries, cleaning, and of course, making that call to your mother you’d delayed the night before. After all that, you felt accomplished and you decided to treat yourself to take out, a rare divulgence.

You called the local Chinese eatery and waited eagerly for your feast as you turned on a new episode of your current binge. You played on your phone until the battery was low and had enough juice to buzz up the delivery man. You dug for your wallet as you went to the door and unlocked it without looking up.

“How much--” you asked as you opened the door.

Your eyes met a familiar pair, two blue gems behind a pair of narrow glasses. Jensen wore the same cap and held the paper bag of take-out with a smile. You grabbed the door and tried to swing it shut but he was too quick as he slapped a large hand against the peeling paint.

“It’s on me,” he said, “I love spare ribs.”

“What the--” you gasped as you pushed on the door helplessly, “please go away.”

“You’re not answering me,” he said as he stepped closer and forced you back as his body brushed against yours, “you blocked me and I can’t even get a hey, Jensen, how are you?”

“I don’t want you here,” you tried to shove him and he shouldered you away easily, “get out!”

He slammed the door and you flinched. He put the bag down on the corner table and reached back to twist the lock without a look. His eyes roved around your entryway and further into your apartment. He smiled as they stilled and focused on you.

“This place is cute… like you,” he said and you heard a slight hesitation in his voice.

You swallowed and backed away from him. You spun on your heel and ran for your couch. You reached over the back to your phone and unlocked it as the battery icon flashed. You had just enough juice to make the call. You dialed as you turned back to him.

“I’m calling the police so you b-better l-leave,” you warned as your voice and hands shook, “I me--”

He was quick and before you could pull away, he swiped your cell out of your hand. He scoffed and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and landed screen down on the hardwood. You bit down and pressed yourself to the couch. You stared at him and kicked yourself forward as you tried to slip past him. He caught you and wrestled you back into the front room.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked calmly as you struggled in his grasp, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”

“N-no, you’re-- you-- let me go,” you stammered as he angled you around the couch. He pushed you down so you bounced on the cushion. You tried to push yourself up and he pointed his finger in your face and wagged it.

“No, you stay,” he growled and wiped his other hand on his jeans. He was nervous, even if he was angry.

“Please, why-- what do you want?” you grasped the cushion and hovered at the edge of the couch.

He sighed and sat in the chair. He took his hat off and set it on the table as he ran his fingers through his short hair.

“Good question,” he said as his jaw squared and his eyes turned to pinpoints, “better one, why did you block me?”

“Are you serious? You-- you--” you struggled to get your words out, your voice even more splintered by your fear, “you doxxed me, you came to-- to my work-- and…”

“I thought we were getting along. I thought you liked me,” he said with a frown, “I really did, you sure acted like it and-- I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“But why wouldn’t I be? I--” you shivered and crossed your arms as you withered beneath his gaze, “Jensen, this was only supposed to be online.”

He scoffed and stomped his boot on the floor. He shook his head as he looked to the ceiling and his anger bulged along his temple. He tilted his head and looked at you again.

“You know, for years, I have been a nice guy, I am a nice guy,” he pushed his shoulders to his ears as he threw his hand out, “I’m so patient and caring and you girls, you don’t even give me a second look.”

“Jensen--”

“No, really, I mean look at you, you’re no supermodel and yet it’s the same thing, ‘let’s just be friends’,” he spat, “but I watch guys all the time treat women like shit and they don’t have any trouble at all, they got them hanging off of them and I’m a creep for giving them a compliment or opening the door--”

“I don’t… know you,” you eked out, “you have to understand--”

“I don’t understand,” he stood abruptly, “I’m done trying to understand.”

He pulled his jacket open and slid it down his arms. You watched him sling it over the chair and as he turned back to you, you stood. He caught your shoulders and held you in place. His strength was plain in his grip as he squeezed then slowly moved his hands to cradle your face.

“I just wanna be nice,” he said as he leaned in. You tried to pull away but he moved a hand around the back of your head and forced your lips against his. He poked his tongue inside your mouth roughly as you tried to shove him away. Finally, he parted, his hands still firmly around your head, “wasn’t that nice?”

“Please,” you begged as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

His eyes searched your face as you stared back at him in terror. He sighed and dropped his hands back to your shoulders. He pushed you down to the sofa harshly and backed away.

“Fine, I won’t be nice,” he snarled as he took his glasses off and folded them carefully. He put them on the table beside his cap and twined his fingers together, loudly cracking his knuckles.

You blinked at him as your eyes grew glossy. You brought your legs up under you and pressed yourself to the back of the couch. You grasped the upholstery and turned as you launched yourself over to the other side. You stumbled as you landed on your feet and ran for the door.

You were yanked back as he snaked his arms around you and took you off your feet. You kicked out and screamed but it was cut off by his palm as he kept one arm around your middle. You scratched at his hand as he dragged you back to the couch. He pushed you face down onto the cushions and planted his knee in the middle of your back, slipping his hand away as he put enough weight on you to keep your voice suffocated.

“Listen, I know I look like some IT nerd but I’m a lot more than that, now don’t make me hurt you,” he played with your hair as he smiled down at you, “you try that again and I will shut you up and if someone hears you, I can take care of them too.”

You sniffed as tears pricked in your eyes and nodded frantically as it felt as if he would snap your spine. He pushed off of you and you stayed as you were, paralysed with fear. He sat and unlaced his boots one at a time. He looked up as he set them neatly beside the foot of the chair and he bent to catch your eye.

“Well?” he pointed at you and traced the line of your body in the air, “let’s go.”

You stared at him dumbly and he stood to pull his tee over his head. His torso was sculpted perfectly and his chest trimmed with hair that trailed all the way down to his pants. He stepped forward and tugged at the back of your shirt.

“You want me to do it for you, baby?” he purred, “I can help you.”

You swatted him away and sat up. You bent your legs to your chest and hugged them. “Please, I’m scared, just leave me alone--”

His hand rested on his belt and exhaled again. His fingers moved swiftly to unloop the striped belt and unbutton his jeans. He pushed them down, nearly tripping as he stepped out of them. He stood in his boxers, tented with his impatient excitement, and gripped his hips.

“It’s okay, baby, I know you’re shy, I am too,” he neared and you winced as he grabbed your wrist. He tugged on your arm and you resisted until he bent your hand back painfully and you cried out. He tickled your jaw as he looked you in the eye and tutted, “it doesn’t have to be like this, alright?”

You went limp and let him pull your arms apart. Your legs slipped down and your feet dangled above the floor. He got to his knees and pushed between yours. He slowly rolled up the hem of your shirt and bent to kiss your stomach as he bared the flesh. You trembled as he forced your arms up and swooped the fabric over your head. It fluttered through the air and to the floor as he cupped your tits through your bright pink bra.

“Is this so bad?” he asked as he nuzzled your chest and pushed your tits up.

He glided the straps down your arm and slid your bra lower so that you popped out. He nibbled at your flesh and traced your nipples with his tongue. You sat rigid and let him explore your body, too terrified to move a muscle. He reached around you and struggled with the hooks, frustrated he snapped the clasps and the band came free.

He continued to play with your chest, his fingers crawling up and down your stomach and sides. There was a genuine curiosity to his touch and it sent a chill through you. His fingertips pressed to the top of your pants and he pulled at them as his lips travelled down to your hip.

He tugged on your pants and jerked your entire body. He tore them lower as he pushed you up and you lifted yourself to let him peel away the layer. He added them to the floor and toyed with the elastic of your panties. The little bow in the front drew his attention as he pushed your legs wider and ran his nose along the cotton.

He hummed and rubbed his fingers down your crotch, pushing the fabric to your folds as he teased you through them. You inhaled sharply at the tingle it inspired and he pressed firmer against you, flicking his fingers along your bud as he noticed how it made you squirm.

He gently pulled aside the cotton and you felt his hot breath against you. You pushed on his head before he could delve into you. “Please, don’t--”

“Shhhh,” he threw your hand away from his head and bent over you, “just relax.”

He dragged his tongue along your cunt and lingered around your clit. You clenched as it sent a thrill through you and he moved his lips against you, suckling at you bud as your breaths grew raspy. You pushed yourself against the back of the couch and dug your nails into the cushion.

He slid a finger along your cunt and circled your entrance. He rubbed up and down as he kept his tongue swirling over your clit and you swallowed back as gasp as he poked inside. He felt around and added another finger, stretching you as he carefully pushed them in and out of you in time with his mouth.

He lapped you up and you closed your eyes, desperate to resist the coil winding within you. Your legs tensed against the couch and you tilted your pelvis without thinking. He sped up, the noise of his mouth and your slickness filled the silence. You let out a puff and moaned as you slapped the couch. The waves rolled over your flesh and you came into his mouth with a pathetic mewl.

He stilled his fingers as he lazily teased you with his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sat back, the heat between your legs cooling in his absence as he licked up your juices. He watched you as he sucked his fingers and stood. Your head lolled and you edged forward on the couch. You tried to stand but he caught you and flung you back.

“We’re not done, baby,” he winked at you as he grasped the top of his boxers, “go on, lay down.”

You murmured your refusal and once more tried to get up. You slipped onto the floor and shakily crawled away as he dropped his boxers to his ankle. He grabbed you before you could get around the side and lifted you easily. He turned you and shoved you down onto your back as he lifted a leg over you.

He straddled you and again his hands roved over your body. You smacked at his fingers weakly but he easily ignored you. He kept one hand moving along your curves as he stroked himself with the other. He groaned and shook as he stroked his dick. Your eyes followed his hand and you gulped, he was thick.

He moved his knees back and pushed them up beneath your thighs as he kept a hand planted on your chest. He ripped your panties down your legs and untangled them from your feet.

He held you down as he ran his tip along your cunt, wetting himself with your coerced arousal. You groaned and grabbed the arm of the couch above you. You tried to pull away from him.

He pushed against your entrance and you looked at him in shock. You couldn’t stop him. His eyes were set between your legs as he inhaled and slowly eased into you. He gasped as he got his tip inside you and his muscles tensed. He bit his lip as he dove further in and you gasped as he filled you inch by inch.

“Shitttt,” he moaned as he reached his limit and you whined at how full you were, “oh, baby.”

His hand slid from your chest and he gripped your hips as he pulled back and thrust. You exclaimed and he did it again, slowly as he watched himself impale you over and over. You curled your fingers against the couch arm and your feet arch as you pressed your thighs around him. He lifted your pelvis high as he angled his dick even deeper.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, “oh, baby, you’re so good. Ahh-hh-hh,” his voice fizzled as your walls clenched him and you closed your eyes as you felt the heat building.

He moved his hand along your thigh and stretched it over your pelvis, pushing his thumb to your clit as he kept his pace. He purred as you writhed helplessly against him and you panted through the rising ecstasy.

“Please, please, please…” you chanted, unsure if you were begging him to stop or for more.

He moaned as he sped up and you sucked your lip under your teeth as you neared your peak. You quivered as your orgasm crashed into you and you let out a strangled cry. He snarled and planted his hands beside your head as he leaned over you, his hot breath tickled your face as he pounded into you.

Your legs bent around him as his pelvis rubbed against you and the friction drove you to another climax. You held onto the arm of the couch as he fucked your harder and harder. He kissed you and nibbled at your lip as he groaned and hooked an arm under to hold you close.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” he said against your cheek and you turned your head away from, “ah, here I--”

He spasmed and slammed into you. He took several long thrusts and stilled. He grunted and drew heavy breaths as he rested his weight over you. He grabbed your head and turned your head up as he pressed his forehead to yours. You kept your eyes closed as the flames slowly dwindled.

“Was that so bad?” he stroked your cheek and trailed his finger down to poke between your lips, “No, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it, baby?” he wiggled his hips and you hissed, “yeah, you want me.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #the losers #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot

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silvormoon · 4 years ago

Text

My Hero

A little vignette set in my superhero universe. Juudai’s been giving his all to being a good hero. Sometimes, he just needs someone to give a little something back.

It wasn’t easy, being the most powerful super in the world.

That sounded trite. Worse, it sounded self-congratulatory, a way of boasting that he, Yuuki Juudai, had much grander and more important problems than the humdrum things mere mortals had to deal with. It conjured up images of some movie star or millionaire lounging on their sofa sipping champagne while they talked about how stressful their life was.

And the point was that it wasn’t easy for Juudai, and he didn’t even get the champagne to make up for it. Granted, his life did tend to involve a lot of sofas, but mainly in the, “Can I crash here tonight?” kind of way. The hardest part was that he knew he could change that if he wanted to. He could make himself famous overnight. He could have as much money as he wanted. People would line up for miles to get the kind of treatment he could provide. He could make the world his oyster, if he wanted to, or crush it under his heel, and no one would be able to stop him. That was the whole reason why he worked in the dark, kept his name out of the papers, and slept in a tent or on friends’ sofas and spare beds, earned money doing odd jobs when he had any money at all, and spent a lot of time second-guessing himself.

But he wasn’t doing any second-guessing tonight. Tonight, he had found the hideout of a gang of criminals who had been peddling a bogus drug they claimed would give people temporary superpowers. What it did was to give the user a sense of euphoria, a feeling that they were all-powerful and omniscient. Several people had died from jumping off buildings or doing other equally risky things under the influence of the drug, and Juudai had decided someone needed to put a stop to it.

Just now, he was waiting near the front door of the lab. Yubel was standing over the collection of about a dozen men they’d captured together and was giving them all vicious glares if any of them so much as breathed too loudly. Juudai was aware of a few more who had fled out the back door, but he and Yubel had managed to capture the three ringleaders, so he doubted the operation would be starting up again any time soon. They had been using some specific know-how blended with the application of some unique superpowers to synthesize the drug, and those powers were gone now. It was a shame, really. A power to synthesize chemicals like that would have been invaluable to the medical community. Perhaps if this man learned his lesson, Juudai would let him have it back someday.

For now, he watched as a number of police officers warily approached the building.

“It’s okay!” Juudai called out to them. “My partner and I have things pretty well nailed down here.”

The lead officer edged a little closer. He was eyeing Juudai warily, and Juudai didn’t blame him. Most supers at least tried to look like superheroes when they were on the job. Juudai was wearing ragged jeans, hiking boots, a fleece-lined brown leather jacket that had obviously seen a great deal of life, and a T-shirt advertising a band called Sugar Snow. He looked more like a college student out for a beer than a superhero.

“Doing a little spur-of-the-moment heroing, are you?” asked the officer suspiciously. “Care to show me your license?”

Juudai produced his ID card and flicked it towards the officer, who caught it neatly out of the air.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, and ran it through a scanner at his waist. He looked at the results. His eyebrows rose. He scrolled rapidly through the rest of the file, then looked back at Juudai.

“You’re the Haou?” he asked.

Juudai shrugged. “Apparently. I mean, I didn’t come up with the name, but it’s sort of stuck to me now so I figured I might as well own it.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I didn’t think you were real,” said the officer, handing his card back.

Juudai shoved the ID back in his pocket. “Yeah, well, I like to keep a low profile.”

“I can certainly understand that, sir,” said the officer, a bit more respectfully. “But I would like to see some proof, if you don’t mind. May I...?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” said Juudai, who had been through this song and dance before. There were ways that a villain could disguise themselves as a hero, many of them quite hard to detect. S-levels, though, tended to stay stable, so one way of proving a person was who they said they were was to test their blood and see if their S-levels matched what was printed on their ID card. It wasn’t foolproof, since it was possible for two people to have the same S-levels, even if the odds of any two people matching were one in several hundred. Nobody, however, had levels like Juudai. He offered his finger to be pricked, and watched as the numbers on the little scanner lit up. It showed 9999, just as it always did.

“You are him,” said the officer. He was visibly impressed now.

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Juudai uneasily. “Look, we’ve got these guys all tied up in the back, so if you wanna...?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said the officer.

Uniformed men poured into the building and started doing official things. Juudai watched a little while to make sure everything was going as it should, then quietly slipped away when no one was looking.

“I wish they wouldn’t always do that,” he complained, woefully regarding his finger. “Just because I’m famous doesn’t give people the right to punch me full of holes.”

“You don’t have to let them do it,” said Yubel.

“I know,” he said. “It’s just not fair. If I had a normal power like flying or punching holes in walls or laser vision, no one would ever ask if I am who I say I am. They’d just go, ‘oh, you’re Wonder Guy, can I have your autograph?’”

Yubel gave him a knowing look. “And you’d want that, would you?”

“Not really,” Juudai admitted. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Do you know what your problem is?”

Juudai smirked. “I’m sure you have a list.

Through all he’d done in the years since he’d left school, Yubel had been his constant companion. Juudai had promised, after all, that they would stay together once they had found each other, and Yubel took him at his word. Through rain and snow, through train delays and cancelled flights, through cheap motels and leaky tents, gang wars and monster battles and helping lost children find their parents, whatever Juudai did, Yubel did too. Even on those days when everything went wrong and they were both feeling thoroughly sick of each other, Juudai was always thankful that he didn’t have to do all this alone.

“I think,” said Yubel, “that you’re burned out.”

“What do you mean, burned out?” said Juudai. “It’s not like I do very much. Mostly we just travel.”

“That still counts as doing things,” Yubel pointed out. “Anyway, you know what I mean. I’ve been watching you. You’re all give and no get. You do all these wonderful things but you don’t stick around to enjoy the thanks, because you’re afraid it will go to your head. Sooner or later, you’re bound to run out of give.”

Juudai scowled. “You know...”

“I know why you do things the way you do. You don’t want the whole world beating a path to your door demanding you give them all godlike superpowers, or take the powers away from people you don’t like,” said Yubel. “I’m just saying, it might be time for a vacation.”

Juudai knew his laugh sounded forced. “I don’t exactly have money for a tropical vacation.”

“Then ask one of your friends. Any one of them would let you stay with them for a while.” Yubel smiled. “It wouldn’t hurt to relive your school days for a while. Do you remember all the fun we had? The annual snowball fight, staying up late telling ghost stories, eating popcorn and watching movies in the common room...”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Juudai. He smiled a little. “Those were the good old days. Man, I’d give a lot to have another go at some of those games we used to play in Chronos’s class. Remember the time you got tangled up in that net so bad they had to cut you loose?”

Yubel huffed. “I could have gotten out if I’d wanted to.”

“I know,” said Juudai. He took out his phone and poked at it for a moment. “Hey, you know, there’s a gym close by that has those reinforced training rooms for playing capture the flag and stuff. We could see if we could scrape up a team. And then we could, I dunno, grab a pizza or some ramen or something, and then maybe catch a movie? And tomorrow I’ll call around and see if any of our friends mind having a couple of house guests for a few days.”

Yubel grinned. “Now you’ve got the idea.”

Juudai grinned back. “Knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

Yubel reached for his hand. “You keep me around for a lot of reasons.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Juudai. “Come on. Mission ‘Have Some Fun For A Change’ is officially under way.”

They began making their way towards their destination. Somewhere in the distance, Juudai could hear sirens. There was always something going on in a big city like this, and a part of him itched to be part of the action, but he knew Yubel was right. Sometimes, the person he needed to protect was himself. He was lucky he had someone by his side to remind him of that.

It doesn’t matter how strong I am, he thought. Sometimes I still need a hero, too. He was glad he’d found one.

“So, Yubel, what movie do you want to see?”

“I don’t know. What’s playing?”

“Well, there’s one about this secret agent who...”

“I am not sitting through another movie full of cars exploding. Pick something else!”

“I didn’t say I wanted to see that one!”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

Laughing and bantering with each other, they walked away, hand in hand.

#soulshipping week #soulshipping #yugioh gx #yuuki juudai #yubel

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years ago

Text

Okay, but. Seeing as AH put out a new Thief Simulator video?

A different Thief Simulator AU with Thief Ryan, his little brother Trevor and this Jeremy kid they pick up somewhere along the way?

Because reasons.

Half-brother AU where their parents are killed in an accident and they’re about to be separated and that’s just a big hell no. (Their relatives want to split them up - there’s this major divide between their paternal/maternal relatives and each side gets one of them Because Plot Reasons.)

Or maybe they just have shitty parents.

OR foster brother AU where they’re placed in a shitty home together and ~bond, because dorks.

Whichever one it is, Ryan realizes he has to get Trevor and himself out of that situation (Because Plot Reasons) and he’s got this sad savings stash, right?

Grabs that and Trevor and gets as far away from their living situation as they can on his savings, which happens to be Los Santos.

They have enough money for a crappy motel room or something for a few days/week, but after that they’re flat broke.

Ryan can’t get a legit job because paperwork/IDs and all that, and look, okay, look.

They’re both idiot kids and maybe Ryan saw things coming long before he took Trevor and ran. Maybe he gave up his pipe dreams of theater and Vinewood because some things (people) are more important than that. (And anyway, he wasn’t that good, according to the shitty parents/foster parents/whoever.)

SO.

He did a few...less than legal things where they used to live, unsavory things that paid well enough. More than some part-time job at a fast food joint anyway.

Enough to get him and Trevor half-way across the country in a city where people who don’t want to be found won’t be. Enough to pay for a place to live until he finds something better here, so. (You do what you got to do and all that.)

Trevor knows Something Is Up (beyond the obvious, because he’s not that dumb, even for a kid) but all Ryan will tell him is that a buddy got him a gig out here, right?

Things will be tight until Ryan gets paid, so just hold on until then.

And then Ryan goes out and Thieves, while Trevor is left to his own devices.

Ryan sets him up at some community center or some such. Something with enough scienc-y shit to keep him occupied enough he won’t think to ask too many questions about what kind of work Ryan’s doing and so on.

Trevor is Not Fooled, but ooh, hey, is that a model rocket kit???? (And so on.)

Ryan breathes a little easier knowing Trevor’s safe(ish) because the community center is the right kind of sketchy.

(They know Something Is Up with Ryan and Trevor, but whatever trouble those kids are in, it’s not anything on Ryan’s end. Trevor’s a smart kid, no way in hell would he adore his brother the way he does if he was a bad guy, and there’s something too familiar about how twitchy Ryan is when it comes to looking after Trevor, so. Safe-ish.)

One day Trevor wanders away from the science-y shit to the gym area.

No one’s supposed to be down there this time of day without someone to supervise, but he’s stumped on something or frustrated with Ryan’s vague non-answers and needs some time to think. Not about to throw himself at the exercise equipment and so on down there, you know?

Just. Thinking room, right?

Only someone’s already there.

Short kid, maybe around Trevor’s age - he’s short, it’s dark with most of the lights off and it’s hard to tell.

This kid is pounding away at the punching bag or using the gymnastics equipment like he’s trying to tire himself out. (Demons of his own, or who even knows.)

Trevor is like “Oops, so sorry, I’ll just get out of your way, sorry again,” but the kid is like,

“Get out of here!”

Which -

“Pardon me?”

Trevor should leave, but the kid’s just being rude and it’s uncalled for and honestly, who the hell does he think he is?

And the kid, it’s like a reflex. Not really thinking about what he’s saying, but he says it anyway because it works on most people. Has them heading the other way without more of a fuss, but this tall lanky asshole just gets this bitch-face.

And that’s how Trevor and Jeremy meet, and Trevor may or may not give as good as he gets when Jeremy sasses him, right? Tries to get him to get out of the gym so Jeremy can work off his anger/frustration, but Trevor is Not Having It.

Somehow, Jeremy finds himself showing Trevor how to box, or walking him through basic gymnastic...things. (Warm-ups/super basic routines, idk, something if we’re going the gymnastics route.)

Ryan finds them like that when he comes to get Trevor, one of the community center’s employees/volunteers with him because they thought they lost Trevor and oh shit, that’s a Problem. isn’t it?

And oh, oh, oh, if it’s the boxing/fighting route they walk in on Trevor punching Jeremy in the face by accident, right?

Trevor focused on throwing a punch the correct way, and Jeremy looking over when he hears the gym doors open, and it all ends in Jeremy getting punched in the face, okay?

Trevor’s aborted ‘woo-hoo!’ when he realizes oh shit, I punched Jeremy, oh shit he’s bleeding?

“Why are bleeding you ass you said you knew what you were doing!!! RYAN HELP.”

Ryan and the employee/volunteer rushing over because Jeremy’s a sweet kid but he’s a loner - got all this anger to him and pushes people away - and they think Trevor and Jeremy are fighting and it’s a mess -

Up until they realize Jeremy’s laughing.

Nose gushing blood with Trevor fluttering over him all genuine concern and terror and these two Adults (semi-adult in Ryan, but close enough) rushing over and it’s so ridiculous? (Because he’s a little confused by Trevor still, okay. Thinks he could like him but mostly ??? because Trevor is Odd.)

And now Jeremy’s going to get into trouble - doesn’t matter if he and Trevor were getting along or anything, he knows what this has to look like.

Jeremy’s a Trouble Kid and the guy he doesn’t recognize (Trevor’s brother?) looks pissed. (Worried.)

The employee/volunteer looks annoyed - no one’s supposed to down here, let alone fighting - and he knows how it looks, so yeah.

But then Trevor’s babbling about breaking Jeremy’s nose and “Ryan, Ryan, I didn’t mean to and oh, God, I broke his nose. Who does that, Ryan? A bad friend, that’s who.“

This “Ryan” stops short, blinks at Trevor who is still babbling and then at Jeremy and -

“Well, I mean,” Ryan says, looking at Jeremy who’s trying to stop the bleeding while the community center employee/volunteer veers off to get paper towels or whatever now they know Trevor and Jeremy aren’t trying to kill one another. “Doesn’t look like you drove the bone into his brain, so that’s good?”

What the actual fuck.

Ryan gives them this tentative little grin, because Jeremy’s mind is off the pain - no seriously, what the actual fuck - and Trevor is just ??? and !!! at Ryan and the thought he could have killed Jeremy???

“Okay, no, no,” Jeremy says, voice all weird because nose and bleeding and ow. “That’s a myth. You can’t actually kill someone that way. Please stop thinking you almost killed me Trevor, omg, no.”

(Jeremy knows this because little kids and fascination with morbid shit. His boxing instructor/whatever he had before his life turned to shit was a Good Person who was fast to quash that one before his students broke each other’s noses trying to see if said myth was true, jfc what is wrong with these little monsters???)

And Ryan, okay.

Supposed Responsible Adult Ryan looks almost disappointed by that news.

Which.

Again, what the actual fuck.

And that’s how Jeremy meets Ryan.

And then!

Guilty!Trevor insists he and Ryan stay with Jeremy until his guardians or whoever pick him up even though Jeremy is trying to get them to NOT do the thing?

But they do.

(Ryan is suspicious as to why Jeremy’s so insistent they not bother - has a Bad Feeling about it because he’s very much Not Concerned at Trevor and Ryan meeting his Guardians, you know? The way Ryan is whenever anyone asks about parents and the whatnot.)

They wait and wait and wait, but no one comes to get Jeremy and eventually he’s like, well shit.

The buses stopped running a while ago and it’s a hell of a long walk (through Bad Neighborhoods) to get home and goddammit.

“Hey,” Ryan says, because Trevor is giving him The Eyes, all Concerned about his new friend and Ryan is likewise Concerned, but also trying to be Cold-hearted, Totally Not His Problem. “We’re not that far away from where the two of us are staying.”

Just an observation, definitely not an offer or anything.

Same goes for this all-night diner next to the motel, and the food he gets for them. (Accidentally orders the wrong thing, but tells the waitress not to worry, but could he also get this other order too? Slides the “mistake order” to Trevor - he’s a growing kid, gotta eat and all that, and if he splits the extra food with Jeremy none of his business.)

By the time they get to the motel it’s too late for someone Jeremy’s age to be walking around at night alone, so he can share with Trevor and Ryan’s got work in the morning, so just keep quiet, okay?

(If they happen to stop by the diner again in the morning on the way to the community center and Ryan orders too much food he foists off on the others, well. They’re new to town, how is he supposed to know how big the portions are at this particular diner??? Don’t waste the food, brats.)

And then Jeremy just kind of gets lumped in with Trevor when it comes to people Ryan will protect to the death and all that and so on and so forth.

Problem is, as Trevor and Jeremy become better friends it means trouble for Ryan.

First in the shenanigans they get into together, and then when Trevor mentions one of Ryan’s bosses - he has a lot of part-time jobs or some such, whatever it is Ryan tells Trevor - and one day he mentions a name Jeremy knows.

Has Jeremy being all oh no because it means Ryan is up to Shady Shit and Trevor doesn’t know. (For certain.)

Can’t keep it to himself for forever - Trevor picks up on it faster than anyone would like - and they confront Ryan.

Trevor angry and betrayed - not that Ryan’s doing illegal shit, that he’s...kind of okay with, just. More that Ryan didn’t trust him with the truth when Trevor’s the reason they’re in Los Santos at all.

(He’s not, at least the whole reason, but Ryan couldn’t leave Trevor behind knowing what he’d leave him to, and anyway, he could have done this better. Gotten Trevor somewhere he’d thrive, get to live his life the way he’s supposed to but he fucked up and now everything’s fucked and just. Fuck.)

Poor Jeremy is nervous and scared - Trevor and Ryan gave him his first real safe-ish space he’s had in a while and he fucked that up - because hey, way to go, Dooley.

There’s a lot of blame and recriminations being thrown around - misunderstanding and the like - and Angst until someone is like wait, wait.

Because Trevor, no, this isn’t your fault. And Ryan, no, Trevor doesn’t hate you. And Jeremy, no, no one’s mad at you.

Lots of Talking and Listening and Feels and then like.

“Okay, no. I’m taking you two with me to work, for fuck’s sake.”

Because Ryan is out Thieving and dear God, no, Trevor and Jeremy are too young for that. (He wants them to go to school and better themselves and like hell is he getting involved in his shit.)

But you know, stubborn assholes.

So.

Compromise???

When he has spare money he rigs up a comms for them - something like that anyway - where they can listen in and backseat Thieve with him while he’s out working. (Something he upgrades as he gets better at his job and can afford better equipment.)

In return Trevor and Jeremy do the School Thing, but mostly to appease Ryan and learn things to help Ryan get better/one day help him out.

Because Plot Reasons.

Everyone kind of knows what’s going on - Ryan’s not that stupid but at least they’re not in the thick of things (yet) and maybe he can go back to a legit job some day? (???)

And then!

And then they find out Ryan’s met Other Thieves. This Gavin prick and his friend Meg and Michael’s out there too and idk, just. People who give Ryan shit and kind of coo over how adorable he is when it comes to his little brother and his asshole friend. (Also, they watch Ryan’s back and the like, helped him get out of scrapes here and there and vice versa.)

Also, also, how hard it was getting him to admit to having a little brother, that’s how closemouthed he was about it. (How serious he is about keeping Trevor, and then Jeremy safe.)

And when Jeremy’s shitty guardians enter the picture it’s thanks to Gavin and the others that things don’t turn into a shitshow - Ryan’s great, okay. Protective as hell but he’s still new to the city, doesn’t know the people they do or have the favors they can call in, and anyway, anyway.

They get Jeremy out of his living situation and with Trevor and Ryan and a decent place to live and everyone’s better off than they started.

Maybe Ryan continues with his life of crime with Trevor and Jeremy following along behind, or maybe not, idk which I like better?

But everyone gets the happily ever after they deserve whichever way things go for them.

...and then, of course, at some point Matt happens.

Either Trevor and Jeremy find him somewhere along the line, or Ryan stumbles over him in one of the houses he burgles.

This kid who is like “Oh, hey. A burglar. Cool.” and does absolutely nothing to protect himself. Doesn’t even run to safety, what the fuck Matt? What if Ryan had a gun?

What if he was one of those assholes who didn’t care who they hurt? You stupid asshole.

And he brings Matt home - look, idk, it happens at some point, okay. Maybe Ryan keeps “burgling” Matt’s place to check up on him and his parents are never home? (Rich assholes off on business trips and the whatnot too busy/self-absorbed to bother with their kid. Maybe they’re legit, maybe they’re involved in one of the crews around town, who knows.)

Ryan fucking steals him too, along with the routers and alarm clocks and busts and drops him on Trevor and Jeremy and is like, “He’s your problem now.”

The two of them are Rightfully Concerned because RYAN, NO but then they get Matt’s story out of him and are like okay, no. Never mind, RYAN, YES and that’s how Trevor and Jeremy get their Myatt.

ALSOALSOALSO: Imagine the romcom matchmaker shenanigans the Stream Team get into RE Ryan and his ~coworkers, okay.

Ryan being like, NO STOP OMG NO while they try to set him up with Gavin, or Gavin and Meg, or whoever else.

The misunderstandings in which they try to set him up with someone he’s actually NOT interested in in a romantic way - and vice versa on said person’s part - but goddamn does said person think it’s hilarious when they find out what’s been going on.

(The way Ryan kind of hates to say worked when he does get together with whoever he does like in a romantic way knowing the Stream Team will never let him live it down.)

...not to mention the way “Stream Team” works really well for what Trevor, Jeremy, and Matt call themselves while they Backseat Thieve!Ryan via coms/~magical tech? (lololol /o\)

And like.

Everyone’s in here at some point, like.

OMG.

Cop/fed Fredo and his kid sister/whatever Fiona who befriends the Stream Team and the shenanigans from that because hey, Ryan’s kind of on the Most Wanted List as this Infamous Cat Burglar and Fredo’s part of a task force to bring him in and lolol Fiona figures everything out and pretends not to know anything just to fuck with them.

Fredo also figures shit out and is like.

DENY EVERYTHING. (And omgomgomg, he and Ryan have a thing??? IDK, I’m all over the place with this but I am dying at the potential for the whole ~star-crossed romance bs, I kid you not. /o\)

#ragehappy #thief simulatar au #look #it's super late #and i'm super caffeinated #so yeah #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#big bro ryan au

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morethanithoughtofficialblog · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 6: Welp, it surprisingly succeeded

In which not only you have hope.

*Toriel's POV*

I haven't felt this happy in such a long time. (Y/N), a sweet and wonderful young lady, has made our wildest dreams come true. Now she's our ambassador, and she'll continue fighting for us. She is just that wonderful! I couldn't be more grateful!

Asgore and I started to walk back to the house, talking happily about our plans for the future. Such a happy event even made me forget all my problems with my husband. It's just a miracle!

However, when we arrived... the mood completely changed. The owner's daughter looked like she was about to cry, the owners themselves looked uncomfortable, and everyone else was silent.

And Sans was missing.

"Oh my... what happened in here?" I asked, calm as I could.

"Mrs. Dreemurr..." Surprisingly, Emily was the one who answered. I didn't interrupt her, indicating she could continue. And she shyly did. "They had a fight. Alphys started to speak negatively, and Frisk shouted at her. Then, Undyne intervened and fight back. Papyrus tried to help, though, but he failed, receiving a hard push from Undyne..."

I was surprised, especially by my daughter's behavior. Just when I was about to open my mouth, Emily continued.

"...then Sans lose it. He screamed at Undyne, then he punched her. Then, for some reason, he punched Dr. Gaster as well..." She started to weep, and I was in shock.

I never saw Sans hitting someone. And even less his own father. Do I know my friend as I thought I did?

I was about to scold my child when I was interrupted. Emily gasped for air, the continued.

"Sans apologized. I know he didn't mean it. He was just angry that Papy got hurt..." she took a pause to stand straightly, and then spoke with more security. "He thanked me for everything, saying that it was good while it lasted. Then he teleported, and... he cried."

I saw how everyone's reaction was the same as mine's: shocked eyes full of guilt. I felt guilty of thinking less of him from hitting his father, but know that I remember, Gaster has never been the best with his sons. He may have done something.

Also, to hear that my favorite comedian was crying, I couldn't just take it easy.

But, instead of guilt, I saw something else on Papyrus's pupils...

And then I realized it was fear.

"SANS! WHERE ARE YOU?!" he shouted while he rushed upstairs, worry taking over him. This shocked us even more. Because yes, you may worry if a close one is crying, but there's nothing to be afraid of.

Unless...

No. It can't be.

Sans is just too cheerful for that- it couldn't possibly be.

A few minutes after, for everyone's surprise, Sans walked downstairs. He immediately went to the couch, something he normally does. But I noticed something besides he was lazy...

He was tired.

Really tired.

"My friend- Sans" I spoke, more worryingly than I thought I would "Are you feeling better?"

"yes, tori. don't worry 'bout me, k?"

I sighed in relief, noting he used his usual expressions. That's the Sans I know.

Before I could answer, Asgore decided to say the news. I would have disagreed, but I realized this could lighten the mood a bit more.

"Listen up, everyone..." he made his way through the center, all eyes on him. I smiled "We made it"

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

*Sans's POV*

I walked downstairs with Papyrus at my side, feeling like the scum of the Earth. Then I realized that the kings have arrived.

I'm not ready to hear the truth.

I immediately went to the couch so I could feel safer. This was my plan: whenever they finally spit it out, I would hide on the couch so I can't hear everyone's sobs. My hoodie would also help.

This plan always worked on my house- why it wouldn't in here?

I suddenly feel tired.

Like, really tired.

Oh boy.

"My friend- Sans" Tori said worryingly, making me turn towards her. "Are you feeling better?"

How did she- shit. They told her.

Don't let her know more, Sans.

"yes, tori. don't worry 'bout me, k?"

She sighed in relief, making me relaxed. She won't ask anymore. And I'll be safe...

for now.

Suddenly, the king made his way to the center, catching everyone's attention. Tori smiled, and I frowned.

What?

"Listen, everyone..." he firmly said, making me suspicious. "We made it"

...

WHAT THE-

If I had a drink, I would have surely spit it out by now.

We all stared in shock until Paps broke the silence.

"OH MY GOD! SANS! WE DID IT!!!!!" he exclaimed happily, while he held me in the air. Then the realization hit everyone and they started to celebrate. Even Emily and her parents.

"OH YESSSS BABYYYY!" Mettaton shouted excitedly, stretching his legs 'glamorously'. Ew.

Everyone was clapping and jumping, shouting and forgetting the fight we had. Even Gaster was smiling, for God's sake!

But who...

Wait, did (Y/N)... Oh lord, God bless her.

And at that moment, I swear, I was happy. Truly happy.

The impossible turned out to be possible. Then, by any chance, maybe I will be happy in the future. Maybe I will change. Maybe.

But now the 'maybe' doesn't seem too far.

Now I'm filled with HOPE.

Since it was dark outside and we were tired, we didn't make a party. I mean, for today.

So we all went to sleep. And with all, I mean everyone.

Even me.

Not before calling (Y/N) in the bathroom, of course... the guys are just too annoying if, well, a boy talks with a girl their age. And she's probably on her twenties, so... yeah.

I dialed her number and had an anxiety attack on the bathtub. What was I even supposed to tell her?! I'm such a fucking idiot.

"Hello?" she answered kindly, and a little bit startled I think. "This is (Y/N) (L/N). How can I help you?"

Oh, she doesn't have my ID? I would feel offended, but hey, I'm a freak. Not even I would save my ID.

"uh, eh... hi (y/n). it's me, eh, sans. y' know, sans the-"

"Oh! Hi Sans!" she interrupted me, with a slight new hint of confidence in her voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't look at the ID when I picked up the cellphone. The sound startled me so much I just immediately answered. I apologize..."

Oh, so she does have my ID? Weird.

"Anyways, is there something you want to tell me, Sans?"

Oh, right. I almost forgot why I was calling her. I mentally facepalmed myself, then almost slammed my head on the bathtub before reconsidering it. I decided not to do it, though. Last time it happened it hurt like fucking hell.

"i, uh... just wanted to thank you for everything, kid" Kid? Dude, what the- "i mean, (y/n). the kings just gave us the good news and... i thought i should thank you for all your effort and disposition. no one else had the courage to do it, so... yeah... thank you"

There was an odd silence after that.

Oh lord, did I just screwed up?

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

*Your POV*

Sans was thanking me for what I did...

Sans.

I stood there in shock, unsure of what I should tell him. I've never seen this side of him. He normally just jokes around me and kink-shames way more than anyone else has ever done. And now, he is sincerely thanking me for everything.

...

Wow.

Is this a plan of Papyrus?

"I, uh... it's really nothing Sans. I did my best, and I'm glad it turned out well"

"i heard that you are our ambassador now. is that true?"

Oh shit, he's right. I'm the ambassador, therefore, I might see this dude again...

...

Just don't say anything stupid.

"Oh yes! That's true! I'll be helping you guys more in the future. Especially for... discriminatory causes" I let out a sigh, not wanting to scare him. But, again, he is most likely an adult. He needs to know, sooner or later. And the sooner, the better. "You see, we humans may be quite... egocentric. Most of humanity does things for their own benefit, without caring about the others. And some people may try to hurt you, just because you are different. Not in rights nor in feelings, Sans. Just in looks... and in souls I suppose"

"yeah... we may be different than you guys..." He took a long pause, and I was trying to think of something to say, but it would be rude to interrupt him... again. After a few moments, though, he spoke:

"that doesn't mean we can't be friends, right? eh, i mean, you are pretty cool, and my brother would love to see you again, so... yeah. i know you're different than them, which is why they have criticized you, but still... we are different species. would you be ok with being friends with different people?"

"Of course I'll be okay with it, Sans! Monster or human, a friend is still a friend!"

Wait, did he just said something about me being criticized? There's no way he could have known...

"But what do you mean about me being criticized, Sans?"

"i'm not stupid, (y/n). i recognize disapproval looks anywhere. i may have listened to some comments as well..."

Of course, that sneaky skeleton.

"and that's why i'm mostly asking you, anyway. are you sure you want to keep up with this crap?"

Am I? People have been looking at me quite different these days. I lost touch with some work partners, even. But...

How am I supposed to give up a friendship? And more, if it is with Papyrus? He's just really sweet and charming, one of the best people I've ever met. Even if he may be a kid, he is just wonderful. If the price I need to pay is to get all those looks forever, then I'll pay for it. I have gained worse things, anyway.

"I'm sure, Sans. It's not like I haven't endured worse things. I can take it. And, besides, it will be worth it"

"...ok. just be careful, tho. there's a dangerous world outside"

"You don't say"

#sans x reader #more than i thought fanfiction #more than i thought #chapter 6 #sans #x reader #undertale

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feynites · 6 years ago

Note

could you do a story where a whole bunch of people get trapped inside an mmorpg, rescue never comes so that they eventually forget their trapped there as generations of people are born, and when you die, it is unknown if that is the final ending or if you reincarnate into a new player, also in this one you can flip between gender anytime you want, the economy in the world is steady, the government is ok, id also like this story to take place from the perspective of a kid born into the world

Well it… didn’t really come out entirely as requested, I must admit. And it’s more of a ‘part one’, but…. I hope you like it anyway!

I am an Enpisci.

So were my progenitors, and so is everyone else in my village.

Willowbranch. It’s a tiny settlement at the edge of the Black Forest. Bartlie says that in ancient times, Pleers would come to Willowbranch from all over the world to fight monsters. In droves and droves they would fight beasts of all measure, leaving legends of their deeds in the tavern. I suppose that was back before everyone realized the hard truth.

Monsters cannot be beaten.

They can be fought. But never beaten. Because of the respawn. Wait long enough, and every monster comes back. They are, in that way, the only true immortals of the realm. Legend says a Pleer cannot die unless killed. And a monster cannot die even when killed.

The day the gates to the heavens closed, and the gods forsook their children in Ethenria, the Pleers stopped coming. The tavern records became static, stale. An Enpsici cannot leave their home unless commanded by the gods, and in Willowbranch, we stopped hearing the voices of the gods long ago. Though most of the town still prays at the temple. It has been a long time since the altars lit up - even my progenitors could not recall such a thing ever happening in their Service Span.

Willowbranch’s temple isn’t far from its tavern, which sees a lot more traffic these days.

I let out a sigh, and nod my thanks to Bartlie as I take my evening drink over to one of the tavern tables. Pleers and monsters might have their pact with the gods, but we Enpisci are mere mortals, in the end. There are some of us who have made it into the legends of old, of course. But most of us just live quiet lives, in Service, until the life wheel resets. And then the next generation takes over. Some of the village has been getting on me to settle down. Find a partner, raise two children. But, I’m not in any hurry. There’s a lot of time yet before my Span is up, and I still don’t know if I have anything worthy to teach the next generation.

Besides, my brother’s heirs are just small, and deserve to be doted on exclusively for a while. There are a lot of little ones in the village right now for them to play with, too.

No rush.

I think about it, though. Bartlie’s been making noises about it, as well, and bartending is good Service. A food provider always has a lot of sway. A lot of recipes, a central location. Why he’d consider me for a partner is more of a mystery. My progenitors were both Guides, and Willowbranch hasn’t really needed a Guide since the days when Pleers still came to town. Oh, I still work to help the community, of course. Do my part. Mostly maintaining the barricades near to where monsters spawn. The temple basement and the abandoned house nearest to the wood. And I help redraw the maps. No one has left Willowbranch in an age, because of the monsters on the road, but Guides still have knowledge of the surrounding region. Keeping track of it all at least offers us warning if any new monsters might appear too close to the village, or wander near the borders.

Guides can tell where they spawn.

But still, it’s not prestigious work. Not anymore. Sometimes my brother waxes poetic about the ‘olden days’, when our Service was needed. I don’t see much point to it, though. We never even saw those times. We don’t really know if it was better or not.

I’m musing over things, one eye still on Bartlie, when it happens. The tavern door opens with a bang, and Young Farmer runs in. I blink up from my drink, while Bartlie calls out to them.

“Here, now, the drinks’ll keep, Farmer. What are you runnin’ for?” he asks.

“There’s a－” Farmer begins, before stopping for a minute to catch their breath. They point out behind themselves, through the open door. Evening is settling into night. The distant wolf call heralds it, as the sun sets over the mountains. “There’s a figure. A figure coming down the road.”

A murmur starts up from the other tavern patrons. I still in surprise, but Bartlie just scowls.

“What do you mean, a Shambler?” he asks. The current of disbelief eases some. Shamblers look like people, especially at a distance. But they’re monsters. They don’t usually come close enough to town to be seen, but Farmer sometimes wanders out a bit. Despite the cautionary tales and worry. The fields haven’t been safe for three generations, but Farmer’s the curious kind, the same way my brother is.

“Not a Shambler,” Farmer refutes. “It wasn’t even barely dusk when I saw it, and it was walking straight down the road. I came running as soon as I realized. Someone’s coming. From out of town!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Bartlie snaps. “Who would be coming here? Risking Dire Bears and Shamblers and… and, what else?”

He turns to me. I shrug.

“Vampires. Ghost Wolves.” I point to the map hanging up behind the tavern wall, next to the old Pleer legends. The spawn points are marked for as far as my knowledge has them. “Hag Ravens. Would depend on the time of day, too, of course. This hour would be the busiest for all of them.”

“But I definitely saw-” Farmer starts.

They’re interrupted by an ear-splitting shriek.

Everyone in the tavern freezes. And then, by some mutual, unspoken urge, we all get up, and hurry outside. Farmer in the lead, Bartlie pausing just long enough to fetch his nail bat from underneath the counter. A few other doors open in the village. People looking out, wide-eyed and worried. My brother’s husband pulls the children inside, and I suddenly realize just how close their house is to the main road. He sees me. I nod at him.

If something happens, I’ll help them.

The air feels dangerous, in a way that makes all the hairs on the back on my neck, and makes those kinds of thoughts seem necessary.

The main road is long, with the forest like a dark wall of trees beside it. A hill blocks off some of the view, but even though I have never heard it before in my life, I recognize the sounds of the distant shrieking.

“Those are Hag Raven cries,” I say.

Bartlie tightens his grip on his nail bat, and some of the villagers shy back towards the tavern. The Mayor heads over at a brisk jog. Coming straight for me.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “A Hag Raven? Are they inside the borders?”

I frown, and concentrate for a minute. On my Service, and the knowledge it gives me.

“The boundaries for the village haven’t been breached…” I say, before my brother, in turn, comes running up.

“They haven’t,” he agrees. “Have you seen Sam and the kids?”

“They’re inside,” I assure him, nodding towards his house. He hesitates, just a moment. Frowning. Seeing what I had seen, and suddenly taking issue with it.

“It’s too close to the main gate,” he murmurs.

“Take them to the village hall,” I suggest.

He hesitates just a little, but at a nod of permission from The Mayor, goes and runs off to do just that. His family and all the others too close to the road, too. The Mayor gives me a worried look. I remember the old mayor - it’s a Service that brings a lot of worries with it. Always fretting, always trying to keep things in order. The Hag Raven shrieks again, and I wonder if we’re all feeling the same fear.

And then there’s a dying wail.

Silence.

I don’t think the village has ever been so quiet before.

The sound of distant footsteps feels almost like a crack of thunder, for all that it’s too quiet to be anything like it. We watch, half of the village standing outside of the tavern, and just beyond the main gate, as a figure slowly rounds the hill. Not a Hag Raven, although in one hand, they clutch a set of large wings. As they walk, they make an odd gesture, and the wings vanish.

My heart leaps into my throat at the casual display of magic.

“Can’t be,” Bartlie murmurs.

We’re all thinking it, though. The closer the figure gets, the louder the thought becomes.

A Pleer.

Tall and broad, dressed in a long leather coat. Blood is beginning to fade from the wide-cuffed sleeves, with each slow, steady step. A sword hangs from an embroidered belt. The only swords I’ve seen before are collecting dust on the walls of the old Weapons Shop. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person so tall before, either. Their ears are rounded, and their jaw is square, and a jagged scar stretches from their eyebrow to their chin.

The stranger walks and walks, and makes their way straight past us. We move aside for them, without even thinking about it. They barely look at us as they make their way into the tavern. The chair scrapes along the floor before they slouch down into it behind a central table.

“I need a drink, and information,” they say, in a low, unhappy voice.

We all look at one another. Hesitating. Shocked by this sudden turn of events.

The Pleer bangs a fist down on the tabletop hard enough to make us all jump.

“What the fucking hell are you fucks just standing around for?!” they demand. “I just walked up here from Bayerwood, and this is the third fucking time I’ve had to deal with you Enpissies gawking at me like you’re glitched. I want a damn drink, and I want some fucking information, and then I want a bed. And not a single one of you is going to ask me a stupid question until all that’s been seen to, unless you want a sword through your guts.”

A cold fear runs down my spine at the threat. I suddenly know, with breathtaking certainty, that this stranger could kill us. That the sword in their hand could slice through any of us. If I were to take my knife and, for some reason, try and stab Bartlie, it would just bounce off. Enpisci cannot take one another’s lives, the gods forbade it. But Pleers… I never knew before that it was different for them.

But I know now.

“They could do it,” I say, to The Mayor and Bartlie.

Bartlie’s hands shake a little. The Mayor swallows, but despite her anxious nature, recovers first.

“Well, get our guest a drink, would you, Bartender?” she says, and makes her way over. Clasping her hands behind her back to hide her own shaking. “Wel… uh, wel-welcome to Willowbranch, traveller. It has been many years since-”

“Yeah, yeah, many years since you saw the likes of me. Does this village have a prostitute?” the Pleer asks.

“N…no,” The Mayor informs them, nervously. “We have food, though, and there is a room above the tavern…”

Bartlie heads for the bar, and I keep a few of the more curious villagers from coming back into the tavern. Motioning that it’s unsafe, as the Pleer scoffs, and Bartlie brings them their drink. Other patrons’ drinks are still abandoned at their tables. The whole thing feels utterly surreal, as the Pleer chugs their ale, and leans so heavily on their chair that it creaks, and then closes their eyes for a moment.

A very tense moment. The Mayor looks like she’s about to ask a question, but she stops herself. Probably rolling the Pleer’s threat over in her mind.

And then the stranger speaks again.

“So you haven’t seen anyone like me in years,” they say. “No one else has passed through? An elven woman, maybe?”

“No, no one else,” The Mayor confirms, easily.

The Pleer curses some more, before kicking the chair next to theirs. It skids across the tavern floor.

“Well, fuck,” they say. “That just leaves Bainbridge. Where’s your map?”

I go and get it, to spare Bartlie having to deal with the stranger going over to the bar. There are a lot of breakable things on it, and it usually takes a long while for glasses to replace themselves. I pull down my latest map, and bring it over to the Pleer’s table.

They snatch it from my hands. Take a knife from their coat, and, before I can protest, stab it through the parchment. Pinning it to the table, before hunching over it.

“This the best you have?” they ask.

“Yes,” I confirm, because it easily is. And if it gets any more damaged, I’ll have to redraw the whole thing by hand again. The Pleer’s gaze turns towards me, then. There’s something… off about it. Something unsettling. Like some part of them hates me, or hates everything about me, even though this is the first time we’ve met.

I’m relieved when they look back at the map.

Bainbridge is on it. So is Bayerwood. I’ve never seen either, but I know where they are. Bayerwood is further down the road the Pleer came up by, which fits with their story. Willowbranch is the village nearest to the forest, while Bainbridge is the last village I have any knowledge of. It’s near to a desert. I don’t know anything about the desert, except that it exists. It’s a void - a wall. The road to Bainbridge is even more perilous than the one up from Bayerwood. A Lich King spawns along it, and the closer one gets to the bridge which leads to Bainbridge village, the denser the spawn points for Skeleton Knights and Wyverns and Harpies become.

The Pleer looks at the map for a long while. And then they demand that we all leave the tavern, in so many words. ‘Fuck off out of here and don’t come back until morning’, mainly. I go and find my brother and his family, still waiting in the village hall. The Mayor holds an emergency meeting. But no one really knows what to do or say. No one alive remembers the last time a Pleer came to Willowbranch. Some Enpisci know that their Services should be performed differently for that, though, and so as the night unfolds, and the village children sleep in a campout in the main hall, the Weapon Shop is dusted and the Market Stalls are rearranged, goods put out onto displays, and signs hung up and the temple doors flung wide open.

Some of the villagers even start to get excited about it. Elisno has some shop records, passed down from her progenitors, of the last sale that the Weapons Shop ever made. A Greatsword of Frost, sold to a Pleer named Javie.

“It would be something if some of the records got updated,” she enthuses. “Maybe something’s changed. Maybe more Pleers will start coming again.”

High Priestess is also hopeful. A Pleer coming, she says, is a promising sign. The gods have changed the world many times over, after all. Maybe the days of condemnation are done. Maybe one of them has come to find their lost children, to open the gates to heaven and gather the Pleers to end the eternity of monsters. Maybe this is the start of a new beginning.

I doubt it, myself.

If anything, seeing this Pleer makes me understand why the gods might forsake them all.

That’s a harsh thought, though. My brother cautions against it. He’s tentatively hopeful, although he and Sam still keep their children in the main hall, rather than taking them home.

“It must be hard, fighting monsters to get up along the roads,” he says. “Maybe the Pleer was injured.”

“They didn’t ask for healing,” I point out. “The temple doors are open. And you didn’t hear them talk.”

He shrugs.

“I’m not saying they were pleasant,” he insists. “I’m just saying, no one’s at their best after nearly getting killed by a Hag Raven. If that happened to me, I’d need a drink, too. Maybe we just shouldn’t assume that how they were last night is how they always are.”

I leave the matter be, even though something in me doubts that the light of day will bring a more pleasant Pleer along with it.

I don’t want to be right.

But I am.

It’s closer to noon when the Pleer emerges from the tavern. Wearing their long leather coat, armed with glinting weapons. I wonder if they slept in all that. If they slept at all. Do Pleers sleep? I have no idea. The stranger walks out into the town square, and glances towards the market stalls and the shops, before heading to the temple. Ignoring High Priestess’ greeting, they head for the Altar to Umara, and dip their hands into the waters.

A chime rings out. The windows of the temple seem to shine, and to my astonishment, the water glows. High Priestess freezes, and gets an indescribable look on her face. I remember when we were children, playing together in the temple yard, and how we would try and explain the growing feelings our Service brought to us. She had always been so sure that the temple was missing light. Not like torchlight, but something harder to describe. Something that would have happened all the time, before the gates of heaven closed.

If nothing else, I’m glad she gets to witness this. Because I’m sure this is what she meant. The Pleers might be forsaken, but it seems that the gods still answer a few of their prayers anyway. As they leave the temple, the light seems to stick to the Pleer a little. Not bright enough to glow, exactly, but enough to make it seem like a sunbeam has fixed itself to them.

They head for the Potions Shop next. Coming out just a few minutes later with an armful of parcels, that vanish with a gesture. Just like the Hag Raven wings. Where the parcels go, or why someone should buy everything only to banish it an instant later, I can’t say.

The Pleer doesn’t bother with the Weapons Shop.

They head towards the hall next. Or that’s what I think, and I want them to stay away from the children - even as curious as the children are to see them. But before they get to the gate, they detour. And come to stop in front of me, instead.

“I need a guide,” they say. “I’ll be taking the map, but the spawn points could change while I’m out there. Some of that shit’s high level. I’m not risking a Lich King ambush because I set up camp too close to his spawn point. You’re coming with me.”

I freeze in shock. So does everyone else nearby. The words seem incomprehensible - coming with them? Out of the village? They wave a hand, and I feel… something. Like a request, pushing at the back of my mind. A divine compulsion, maybe. The Pleers come from heaven, after all. They are cut from the cloth of the gods. It’s the obligation of Enpisci to serve, but…

No.

I don’t want to go anywhere with this stranger. They are not a friendly person, and it wouldn’t be safe. Even if another opportunity like this never presents itself.

The Pleer grits his teeth, and reaches for his sword.

“I’ll take you.”

We both turn. My heart sinks into my stomach at the sight of my brother, standing behind the Pleer. His expression is determined, but I know that body language. His shoulders are tensed and he’s holding his hands in fists so that they don’t tremble. Jaw slightly clenched for the same reason - he’s frightened.

“I’m a guide, too. I’ll take you where you want to go.”

I shake my head.

The Pleer’s eyes narrow.

“You’re ineligible,” they say. “You have children?”

My brother swallows.

“I… yes, I do,” he says. “That means I can’t go?”

“Well, not with living children around,” the Pleer tells him. Then they glance back to me, and very slowly, draw the sword from their belt. The metal is dark. It gleams, and seems to project an unpleasant aura. There’s something almost red to it, even though I can’t actually see the colour. It makes me vaguely nauseous - nothing like the weapons on the shop racks. “Though I could solve that.”

It takes me a moment to even comprehend their meaning. My brother pales, and when I do I lift up my hands. Horrified. The Pleer doesn’t even step towards the hall, but I feel suddenly, powerfully afraid that they will.

“I’ll go!” I say, at once. “Just don’t… don’t… I’ll go with you!”

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my skull. My brother looks like he’s going to be sick, and I feel like I am, too. My eyes fix onto the weapon in the Pleer’s hands. At least until they put it away again. They laugh when they do, amused by something. Or maybe just pleased with my acquiescence. Maybe Pleers don’t laugh for the same reasons Enpisci do.

“Oh, good. No more wasting time,” they say.

I feel it again, then. Pressing at the back of my mind, the… request.

My stomach is full of rocks. I look at my brother, though.

Yes.

Suddenly, then, I know a whole host of things about the Pleer. Things that I didn’t before, and that he definitely hasn’t told me out loud. I know he has a name. Brandon. I know he has titles. Slayer of the Poisoned Queen and Conqueror of the Wailing Swamplands. I know he’s powerful.

He gestures, and a beige satchel appears in his hand. He thrusts it at me, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Something inside clinks.

“Take those,” he says. “if you get injured and manage not to die right away, down one. I have plenty, but don’t waste them. Now let’s go.”

He starts walking towards the village gates.

I hesitate. That’s it? Just ‘let’s go’? I’ve never left the village before in my life. I haven’t said goodbye to anyone, haven’t hugged my brother, or Sam, or kissed the children goodbye, or told Bartlie…

But, even as my mind reels, my feet move. Once the Pleer gets a certain distance away, my feet follow of their own accord. It’s a strange and unsettling feeling. I hold the satchel and awkwardly chase after him, looking back as my brother calls out, as High Priestess and a few others join in and give a brief chase.

“Wait!” The Mayor calls. “Wait, please, Pleer!”

“You don’t have to do this!” my brother says. “We have other maps you can take, if you just - you can stay until the spawn points reset again, and then leave straight after! There wouldn’t be time for them to change once more, you could make it to Bainbridge before that happened!”

The Pleer ignores them.

And I just… follow. Numbly. Stupidly. Not even managing to get the satchel on, stunned as we clear the village gates. As we head off down the west road, which no one ever uses even a little, for fear of the monsters that spawn out in this direction. My brother chases after us the longest, with increasing distress.

“Please, mercy, stranger!” he begs.

“Oh, shut up, you whiny little bitch,” the Pleer finally snaps back.

I shake my head. Thinking of that grim, nauseating sword. My brother and I lock eyes, until he hits the boundaries of the village. And then his legs root in spot. And eventually, I have to tear my gaze away, in order to keep following the Pleer in front of me. In order to keep walking past a point I have never before crossed, and never before expected to.

The road is dusty.

It smells different, somehow. Even though it doesn’t really look different from anything I’ve seen before. I walk along. Staring alternately at the backs of Brandon’s shoulders, and the trees, and the sight of the forest I have always seen eventually turning into mountainous rock. It seems to happen all too quickly, though, that the path becomes unfamiliar. Large stone boulders crop up around it. Things I have glimpsed at a distance, but never closely enough to realize that there are carvings on them. I want to stop and look at them all. But the Pleer keeps going, at a pace just fast enough that sometimes I have to jog to keep up.

Eventually, I regain enough wit to sling the satchel strap over my shoulder. Then I look inside, and find half a dozen blue potions in it.

Those are Wendru’s best.

I’ve never even tasted one before. Once, though, a werewolf managed to break out of the temple basement, when I was very young. Everyone who helped fight it off ended up needing a blue potion. That was back when Wendru’s progenitor was the Potion Seller. I remember watching both of mine sip theirs, resting in the big bedroom. How the bleeding wounds on their arms and legs had closed; how they’d needed to take silver potions after, to make certain they didn’t become werewolves themselves.

I can’t help but wonder what they would both make of this.

The boulders turn to sheer rock, framing the path. And I remember enough of what they taught me to start mentally tracking the spawning points. Pebbles bounce away from the Pleer’s boots, and bite into my own soft shoes.

Eventually, I muster up the nerve to ask a question.

“Why do you need to go to Bainbridge?” I ask.

He ignores me.

I swallow, and lick my lips.

“Brandon?” I try.

That makes his steps falter, just a little. He looks at me, eyes wide, before he seems to realize something. And then he just snorts.

“I forgot about that,” he mutters. “Don’t call me that. Call me ‘my lord’.”

He turns away, then, and starts walking faster. I fall silent. Part of me - the part that’s not terribly sensible - wants to call him anything but ‘my lord’. Something more along the lines of ‘asshole’, maybe. Bastard. Jackass. Intolerable fuckweasel. But I know that if I address him, now, the only thing that will actually come out of my mouth will be ‘my lord’.

The powers of the divine - even the forsaken divine - are terrifying. I never really imagined it this way before, but they are brutal in their reality.

A few birds fly over head. There are spawn points up on the rocks, and paths that lead that way. My shoulders tense at the thought of what could be lurking up above. Watching us traverse the narrow road, deeper and deeper into the mountains. Bainbridge is on the other side of a gorge, which then becomes the desert. At my walking pace, it would take three days to get there on foot. Accounting for necessary breaks, and assuming no time-consuming disturbances are to happen.

Like fighting monsters.

We walk, and walk. A few times I hear unfamiliar bird cries. After a while, I do my best to pay more attention to the carvings on the rocks. I can read Common, Dwarvish, and Elvish, as part of my Service, but I don’t know this language. Maybe it’s not a language, though. Maybe it’s art? My Service tells me nothing about it. Eventually the symbols disappear as the surface of the rock changes textures, and we come to points where water runs down striking mountain walls. A Dwarvish sign tells us that Bainbreach Gorge is ahead, and warns of necromancy in the region.

My legs are straining with exhaustion by then. My chest heaving with my breaths, and my skin heated from the sun. Sweat beads on my brow.

The Pleer stops for a moment to stare at the sign.

And then he lets out an irritated sound, and marches over, and takes a seat at the rocks next to it. He waves a hand, and throws and parcel at me. I don’t catch it. It bounces off my chest and to the ground, and I start at it dumbly for a moment, before stooping to pick it up.

“You’re Level One,” he tells me.

I swallow, and am horribly relieved to find the parcel he threw at me contains a water skin and some bread. I move closer to the sign - not really wanting to be near to the Pleer, but not wanting to stay on the open road alone, either. Sitting next to the Dwarvish writing at least helps me feel like other people might be around, as I drink eagerly.

When I’m no longer completely parched, I hazard a reply.

“I don’t know what that means,” I say.

The Pleer snorts.

“Everyone starts at Level One,” he tells me. “The more experience you get, the higher your level becomes. Your whole life, living your shitty little Enpee-see existence in that town, you’ve never leveled up. You’re a random villager with no experience. But for reference - I’m Level Two-Hundred and Ninety.”

I swallow, and take a bite of bread to keep from having to admit that I still don’t understand. There are ‘levels’ on the old legend lists in the tavern, but they seemed to refer to parts of the forest. The numbers didn’t go up very high anyway, only to twelve. And while I might not have left the village before, I definitely have ‘experience’ with some things.

Just not these things. Not things that haven’t happened to anyone in Willowbranch for generations.

The Pleer stares at me.

“That means that everything out here can kill you, really easily,” he says.

“I know that,” I say. Because I do.

“Good. Then you know to hide if something comes at us,” he tells me. “If you die, I’m going to go back to your stupid little village, and get the other guy. And you know what that means.”

I swallow the bread. It tastes like ash.

“They’re just children,” I say. Willot and Esme. They like playing hide-and-seek and throwing seeds to the birds and making mud pies. Esme’s going to be a Guide, like me and my brother. Willot’s going to be a Mason, like Sam. My brother never smiled so big or cried so hard as on the days he went up into the nursery and found their cribs there.

The Pleer snorts.

“They’re fake,” he tells me. “Just like you’re fake. Every fucking thing in this godforsaken world is fake, except for me. And except for the woman I’m looking for. Don’t pull that sob story shit on me. You’re lucky I let off steam in Bayerwood before I got here.”

He leans forward. I look at his eyes again. I’ve seen monsters without those kinds of eyes, without that kind of hatred in them. It freezes me in place. Nauseating, terrifying - like the sickly aura off of his sword.

“I killed every Enpee-see in Bayerwood,” he tells me. “Because they pissed me off. And if you piss me off, I’ll do the same to your shitty little village, too. Just keep that in mind.”

Every…?

I can’t fathom it. But somehow I know that what he’s saying is true. Everyone in Bayerwood is dead. The village is a ghost town, then. Empty buildings, empty houses. I look away, as my hands shake and the bread in crumples into crusty crumbs. My eyes sting, and blur, but more than anything I just feel afraid. Afraid of dying out here. And not just for myself, now, but for what it would mean if the Pleer has to go back to Willowbranch to get my brother.

It takes me a minute.

But I manage to fight off the tears, and drink the rest of the my water. You’ll need it, I think. The water and the energy. I choke down the rest of the bread, too. I’ll have to keep my wits about me. Have to be able to run and hide, to get out of the way, and have a sharp eye out for danger.

I can’t let the Pleer go back to Willowbranch.

My mind shies away from the thought, as I lean against the dwarvish sign.

We don’t talk again until the Pleer finishes his own rations, and then gets up, and starts our trek once more. Stomping his boots, and letting out a frustrated sound when a light rain kicks in. He puts a hood up on his coat. I don’t have a coat. But I don’t mind the rain too much, either. It makes the rocks around us look glossy and oddly beautiful. Deepens the mist coming up from the places where water tumbles down the sides of the road.

The first attack comes, as I’d feared, from above.

There’s a shriek. Like that of the Hag Raven, but different, too. Harpy. All the birds flying overhead before, casting their shadows, almost had me complacent to the sound of flapping wings and things moving above the road. But this is big, and as the cry comes, my heart stills. I reel backwards. Slipping on the rain-slick rocks, as a monster with four wings and clawed legs, and the face and breasts of a human, drops from the sky.

The Pleer, though, seems read for it.

The air around him bursts, like a lightning strike. He lifts one hand up, as the harpy extends its claws towards him, and grabs it around the leg. And then he dashes the creature against the nearest outcropping of rocks. Like a child swinging a toy club. Black feathers explode everywhere. The Harpy’s shriek takes on a different tone. I rush further back, plastering myself up against the opposite stone wall, watching in wide-eyed shocked as the Pleer yanks the creature back. Heedless of the way its talons tear at his coat, as he smashes it against the rocks again.

That seems to daze it. It crumples, still shrieking but also obviously reeling, as the big warrior draws his sword and plunges it into the monster’s chest. Blood sprays onto him. My breaths are loud in my ears, the rocks hard at my back. The rain soaks through me.

The Pleer shifts his grip on his sword, and then in another, smooth gesture, cuts the head from the Harpy.

Its blood steams as it pours onto the road.

Its body twitches.

I watch as every part of it slowly dissolves. It turns to bones, and then motes, except for the wings. The Pleer looks up at the sky for a moment, before picking up the wings, and doing his strange gesture. They vanish. And nothing is left of the monster - just some fading bloodstains.

“Where’s the Harpy spawn point?” he asks me.

I can’t answer.

I want to. My mouth moves, but nothing comes out. I don’t even know the answer, at the moment. I feel strange. Tingling, a little - from the shock? But I can’t keep a thought straight. Everything in my head just buzzes, horrified by the sight of the Harpy’s death.

The Pleer rounds on me, sword still in hand. The panic does nothing to help my focus, but it forces words from me anyway. Gods, he really wasn’t lying. He could kill a whole village. He’d killed that monster so easily. Without any barricades or ranged attacks or anything at all, even. It’d taken half my village to bring down one werewolf from the other side of a row of topple and fortified temple pews, and people had still been badly injured.

The Pleer’s coat doesn’t even stay damaged. The rips on it close, as the bloodstains fade.

“I, I, there - they’re up, on the - in the -”

“Fucking useless,” he growls, and turns. And I am struck by the blind fear that he is turning back towards Willowbranch.

I point. Regaining my wits, through sheer force of desperation.

“It’s that way,” I say, and as I do, I see the large nest situated near to the road. Just at the top of the rocky mountainside.

The Pleer looks, and narrows his eyes.

After a moment, he lets out a breath.

“How many?” he asks.

I swallow.

“Just one, at that point,” I say. “There’s another nest further along, though, and that has three.”

He tilts his head, and keeps his sword at hand.

“Okay,” he says. “Three is going to be a problem for you. Don’t run away, they’ll just pick you off. Stay right behind me.”

I nod, more automatically than anything. His words don’t actually sink in until he starts walking again, and then I scramble to follow. How close is ‘right behind’, I wonder? He seems to swing around a lot when he fights. I keep one eye on the sky, and one eye on him, and shiver as the rain falls harder.

There are shapes, up on the sides of the mountain pass.

Not rocks.

It’s a strange experience, seeing the Harpies at their perches. I wonder if they just… stay there, all the time. Watching the road. It must have been ages since anyone has come down it. Sometimes, when I check the barricades in the village, I think about the monsters behind them. Wondering if they missed the days of the Pleers, too, in some way. The old stories say that monsters are the work of the Dark Gods. Made to sow chaos, to bring violence and discord.

In a way, it’s almost their Service to fight.

But unlike Enpisci, they don’t seem to have much beyond it.

We walk down the path. The Pleer keeps his sword ready. But the Harpies don’t move, not even when we’ve gone past them.

“Huh,” says the Pleer.

“They’re not attacking?” I ask, when I can stop holding my breath. “Why?”

I realize my error a moment later. But to my relief, the Pleer doesn’t seem annoyed by the question. When the Harpies are out of sight, he sheaths his weapon.

“Must be glitched,” he says. “I’ve seen it before. Once walked through an entire pack of Shamblers for ten minutes straight, and they weren’t low-level ones either.”

“…Low-level?” I venture, tentatively.

He shrugs.

“If a monster is too much weaker than you, there’s a chance it won’t attack,” he explains.

“That Harpy seemed a lot weaker than you…”

“Level Two Hundred,” the Pleer replies. “Not weak enough that they should be ignoring me, but that might be the glitch.”

I decide I’ve pressed my luck enough with the questions, as his mood seems to sour then. His expression twists, and his eyes darken. I keep quiet, and focus on the spawn points instead. There are a few more Harpies. I mention them, but they all just silently watch as we make our way along. There would be more if we followed the diverging pathways, but we don’t. And after a while, the rain stops. The mountain walls get lower, and break away into boulders again. We take our second break beside them.

My feet are killing me, and my head is pounding as I drink more water, and eat more bread. The Pleer doesn’t seem tired. Just lost in thought, as he stares up at the sky.

“This is a godforsaken place,” he mutters.

I glance towards him uncertainly.

“…Yes?” I say. The sky is blue, the rocks are grey, and the gods shut the gates of heaven and abandoned us all here. ‘Forsaken’ is just an apt description of it all.

Though I suppose, for a Pleer, the blow might be harder to take.

I wonder…

Well.

I don’t want to piss him off, but I’m probably never going to get another chance to ask. And we’re some distance away from the village, now. It’d be inconvenient, if nothing else, for him to turn all the way back to go get my brother. Maybe I can risk a little annoyance - just a little.

“What were the heavens like?” I wonder. “Before the gates shut?”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The Pleer’s expression shuts down, closing off, and he gives me that look again.

“Fuck off,” he says.

I don’t ask twice.

My feet are still aching when we start walking again. Trapped in stony silence. The boulders give way, and the path turns from the mountains to the gorge. I don’t mean to stop, but when we clear the rocks enough to see the view beyond them, I do anyway.

Beyond the mountain pass, there is an open field, shrouded in waist-high mists. But in the distance, I can see the gorge, and the statues that mark the bridge that leads to the village. The statues are two ancient figures, with arms raised towards the sun. One of them is missing an arm, by the looks of it. Past them, there is the horizon. Distant mountains, coloured differently from the ones I know, and structures, and the sun settling against clouds that swirl like cream in tea.

I have never seen the likes of it before.

I gawk, until the Pleer gets far enough away that my legs start moving on their own again.

There’s so much space. I knew the world beyond the village was big, that it was bigger than my Service could let me know, that there were things beyond the boundaries of my maps. But I had never imagined what it was really like. How much of it there really could be. The gorge is massive, and the mountains and structures in the distance look tiny, and there is… there is so much of it. It defies me to explain the vastness of it all compared to the village I know. The familiar horizons of my life.

A new, different sort of fear comes over me. Or maybe ‘fear’ is the wrong word. I don’t know how to rightly describe it. Awe? Is this what awe feels like?

Even the details of this region are strange. The dirt beneath my feet is pale, and seems to sparkle in some places. Little green and grey plants grow in spirals from the dirt, and tiny black spiders scuttle between them. The stones that mark the road are pale blue. There are no trees, but there are some tall boulders.

The Pleer stops at the first blue stone road marker, and pulls out the map. Its corner is still torn from where he stuck his knife in it.

“Has anything reset yet?” he wonders.

“No,” I assure him. It can be hard to predict when the spawn points will change, but I always know it.

After a few minutes more of examining the map, he puts it away, and starts down the road. And I follow. Because I don’t have any choice.

Distant shapes move in the mist. Nothing should be spawning right where we are, but sometimes monsters wander. Especially when given the time to, with nothing to kill them or no reset to force them back to their original points. I keep as close to the Pleer as I dare. There are no birds out here. Something does fly overhead. Something big, that makes the Pleer stop and draw his weapon again. I look up, but all I can see is a dark shape against the glare of the sun. Either very large and far away, or smaller but closer by.

A harpy?

No, the shape isn’t right.

A wyvern, maybe. The roar seems to match, as it echoes down towards the gorge. But the beast doesn’t swoop in on us. And again, we keep going after several minutes of tension.

Eventually, we come to a gate at the road. It doesn’t seem to serve much purpose, and is really more of an archway. But dwarvish writing announces Bainbreach Gorge’s location. And there are fountains affixed to the sides of it, and twisting vines growing across it. As we draw near the vines seem to glow, a little.

My feet stop aching.

I hurry over to the fountains to refill my water skin, and to drink from them. The water is clear and refreshing, like the water from the temple back home. I love the gate, I decide. It feels safe. The Pleer drinks, too, though he seems less enamored with the place. He settles down next to it for our break, though. The mist parts around most of the gate, and I feel secure enough to put some distance between us, as I find a bench on the opposite side. Looking out towards that distant view.

Finally, I take a moment to just look at it all, without distractions.

What my brother wouldn’t give to see this.

You know what he wouldn’t give, I think. Sobered by the reminder.

I sit on the bench, and am overcome by the feeling that I am never going to see Willowbranch again. Another sobering thought, as I look out at the unfamiliar terrain set before me. The vastness of the world. The thought of the Pleer heading back to my village is horrifying. And I doubt he will stay in Bainbridge. But maybe if he finds this elven woman he’s looking for, his mood will improve enough for pity to settle in. For him to… to find some way to get me back home. I try and console myself.

Maybe if we make it to Bainbridge… well.

At least we’ll have made it. I have no idea what the other village is like. But I know that Enpisci used to make trips often, in the days when Pleers travelled the lands and fought monsters. Pleers could escort us from one place to the next. Families could be spread out among multiple villages, could offer compensation to Pleers for taking them to see friends or relatives elsewhere. It always sounded so amazing to me.

Now I wonder how many were just dragged around against their will. How many interactions were not what they might seem. In the village records, if you go back far enough in my line of progenitors, you will find the name of a Pleer. Marriage records, for a Guide Enpisci and a ‘Paladin’ Pleer. One child, who grew up and became a Guide themselves, after their progenitor died. No records on what became of the Pleer. Their name was in the legends on the tavern wall, though. Kessardian. They killed a lot of ghouls.

They probably came out this way, at least at some point, I realize. They probably saw much more of the world than any Enpisci.

Did they ever kill a whole village full of people?

I can’t imagine it. They had a child with an Enpisci. Surely they must have loved them, right? To have married and settled down and raised a child. But then… their spouse would have died, eventually. When their Span was done. And their child, too. And all the monsters they had slain would have returned, all their efforts to clear their forest or even just the temple basement for naught. When their gods forsook them…

Maybe the Pleers used to be good, once. Used to care about Enpisci. Maybe even Brandon was, before the weight of immortality became too much to bear.

I look over at him.

Would he know the name Kessardian?

But I can’t find much pity for a man who killed an entire village. Nor much hope in his better nature. I remember the hatred in his eyes, and I look away again. And keep my thoughts to myself.

After a while, the Pleer calls me over.

“Enpee-see,” he says, with a wave.

“My Lord?” I reply, and walk towards him.

He points down the long road towards the statues that mark the bridge.

“I’m not camping in the middle of that,” he says. “So we’re setting up here for the night. Pitch a tent, make us some food, and don’t bother me.” He summons up another bag of things, and thrusts it at me - hard enough to knock away my breath again - before he goes back to glowering at the clouds.

Luckily, part of my Service is knowing how to pitch a tent, even though I’ve never done it before. I set it up, along with a cooking fire. The ingredients in the bag don’t match any of the recipes I know, though. So I simply roast them. Trying not to think about Bartlie, and his many, many recipes, and blaming the water in my eyes on the smoke.

As the sun sets, the mist starts to glow.

The shapes in it become harder to ignore, too. The nightly wolf’s howl sends a chill down my spine, like it never has before.

Night changes the look of the whole place.

The gorge turns pitch black. The blue road markers seem to suck up the moonlight, and glow. The distant spawn points for Skeleton Knights will call them into being, now. And Lich Kings, too, though those are still far off. I set the tent up as near to the gate as I can, right in the middle of the archway, even though some part of me balks at ‘blocking the road’.

No other travelers will be coming, unless High Priestess was right, and things really are changing.

The Pleer eats, and produces a bottle of alcohol from thin air. It makes me wonder why he was so set on getting ale from the tavern the other day. He drinks, and tosses me a bedroll. And it’s then that I realize, of course, that the tent is just for him.

I look out towards the moving mist, and doubt I’ll get much sleep.

But the Pleer doesn’t seem to be in a great hurry to make use of his accommodations either. He polishes off a second bottle, and glares into the fire pit I made. And then dashes the glass against it, sending jagged pieces everywhere, and provoking a spray of flames.

“Wants to know what heaven’s like,” he mutters. Though he isn’t looking at me, and barely seems to be speaking to me, except perhaps by default. His tone is mocking. His mouth twists into a sneer. “Fucking bullshit. Stuck in a fucking desert hole with liches and a virgin Enpisci, chasing that fucking-!”

He gets up. I watch, heart in my throat, as he conjures up something else in his hand, and hurdles it down the darkened road.

“FUCK YOU, BITCH!” he shouts. “UNGRATEFUL CUNT! SLUT! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME?!”

The shouting turns to screaming, in short order. Just, incoherent wailing, out into the dark. I stare, eyes wide, utterly petrified at what the noise and chaos might summon. The gate might feel safe but it’s only a tiny outpost. How safe is it, really? And how good is the Pleer at fighting while he’s drunk and screaming, too?

“Hey,” I say, gently as I can manage.

The Pleer wheels around, and throws something at me. A rock, I think. It hits the ground, and I freeze. Overcome by the impression that I was just bare inches from death. The fire sputters, and the hatred is back in the Pleer eyes.

He levels a finger at me.

“You,” he says.

I start looking for a possible avenue of escape. Even though I know there isn’t really one. I’d never make it back through the Harpies, even if I ran. After a few seconds, I give up, and raise my hands in what I hope is a placating gesture.

“Please,” I say. “I just don’t want any monsters attacking the camp.”

The Pleer sneers. But he stops shouting, too. And after a moment, he comes back and slumps down beside the fire again. His breath reeks of strong wine.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “They can’t cross the boundary here. Most they could do would be to line up along it. And then ‘poof’ - gone by daybreak.”

I swallow. The prospect of sleeping out in the open with a bunch of Skeleton Knights leering down at me, halted only by an invisible barrier, still seems like… not an experience I would want to have. At all. Particularly not for the sake of some incoherent raging.

“But those Harpies didn’t attack,” I point out. “That was a ‘glitch’. What if the boundary makes a glitch, too?”

The Pleer pauses.

Then he lets out a gusty breath.

“Fine,” he says. “Fucking shit cowards. That’s all your type is, you know?”

I clench a fist in the ground. Fear keeps me from arguing - so maybe he does have a point.

“I certainly don’t want to die, my lord,” I say, instead.

The Pleer glares into the fire.

“You sound like that one,” he says, after a long minute. The smoke is getting in my eyes again. I move back a little, and wonder if I should keep responding. If that would lower or increase the odds of him screaming into the dark again.

“Who, may I ask?” I venture, at length.

“I’m not saying its name,” the Pleer replies, with another sneer. “The fucking dwarf. That’ll do. It’s the Fucking Dwarf. Fucking queer ass piece of shit en-pee-see. Not like you, though. Level Three-Fucking Hundred. We let it into our party. Desperation, that’s what if fucking was. We never should have left Itreloth.”

“Itreloth… that’s in the legends,” I realize. “It’s a city.”

“The Grey City,” the Pleer mutters. “Even after The Cut-Off, it was full of players. The trains connected it to the eight other cities. Until our station went down.”

He lets out a long sigh.

“Fucking glitches. The first party went out, didn’t come back. Second party went out - didn’t come back. Third party, no prizes for guessing that one. We figured they were either dying or finding somewhere better and just holing up there. Shit. I never even wanted to play this game. Damn fucking ‘pee see’ piece of crap, shoving its bullshit down everyone’s throats all the time. Oh look, it’s a fucking… fucking gay nanogender vegan orc. And now I’m trapped here. For eternity. The only fucking reason I came here is because of that friendzoning bitch, and what does she do? She drags me out of the city, out into the goddamn mines, trying to follow the train tracks with the Fucking Dwarf, and then she leaves me. She leaves me. When it’s her fucking fault I’m even here to begin with!”

I can’t imagine why, I think.

I’m smart enough not to say it, though. My mind is reeling a little, trying to make sense of everything the Pleer is saying. He has so much knowledge. If only he wasn’t… well. A crazed murderer, really.

“What… ‘game’?” I ask. Maybe he means like in the legends, where the gods sometimes refer to life as The Game? But in that case, does that mean the Pleers all chose to live among mortals?

“Fucking bitch,” the Pleer ignores me, just muttering to himself.

I shift in place a little, and persist. I might not get another chance, and it seems to at least be keeping the screaming to a minimum.

“Okay, I know of some mines,” I say, thinking. Because I do - they’re at the other edge of the boundaries of my knowledge, past Bayerwood. “So you came out of them, and now you’re trying to find this other Pleer? And an Enpisci dwarf?”

“The Fucking Dwarf,” he corrects, in a low mutter. “She left me for the Fucking Dwarf. She’s an idiot. It’s not real. You’re not real, it’s not real, fucking nothing here is real except for us.”

“My lord, I am real,” I feel compelled to say, before I can think the better of it. He glares at me, and I close my mouth with an audible ‘click’. The fire burns between us, and seems to reflect in his eyes. And for a moment, I am horribly, terribly afraid that he is just going to kill me. One of his hands moves to his belts. The sneer on his face is ugly. It makes his scar ripple, and in the dark beyond the firelight, he seems to get even bigger, somehow. Meaner. An old and frightful creature, as dangerous as any monster.

Except that if he died, he wouldn’t come back.

Which would be comforting - if there was any chance of me killing him.

I know I’m desperate enough that I would try. There’s a sharp stick in the fire, close enough that I might be able to reach it before he cut my head off. Maybe I could blind him. Maybe I could run, and run, and just keep running. Maybe my chances would be better with the monsters.

But then he just spits on the ground, and looks away.

“Your fucking kind,” he swears. “You don’t even know what ‘real’ is. You don’t matter. Fucking algorithms and shit. Ay-eye. It’s your fault, your kind’s fault. I’d kill every last one of you if I could, for what you’ve done to us. You fucking trapped us here.”

What?

What is that even supposed to mean? How could Enpisci ‘trap’ the Pleers here? They’re the ones with divine power.

“How?” I ask. Pointing out the obvious fallacy just seems liable to make the man angry.

The Pleer gets up. Wavering in place for a moment, before he just turns, and staggers towards his ten.

“That’s the fucking question,” he mutters, as he goes. “That’s the fucking question. How you did it. Fucking Ay-eye.”

The tent flap closes.

I am left alone in the dark, with a flickering campfire, and a lot of broken glass. And a bedroll, and glowing mist. And distant sounds of something creaking. And drawing closer, and closer, along with something like the sound of wind wheezing through an old bag. I douse the fire, and move nearer to the tent. Watching with the moonlight, as three bone-white figures in aged armour begin to move along the boundaries of the gate.

The hollows of their eye sockets stare back at me.

I don’t sleep.

#filled prompt #mmo story #Anonymous #long post #original writing

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thelifetimechannel · 6 years ago

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This week’s bonus content brings us Jake and John discussing the likelihood of a robot apocalypse:

JAKE: Hey there pal! JAKE: So youre jades... brother? JOHN: that's right! JOHN: compared to how confusing everyone else's family trees are, we are very straight forward. JOHN: even if we did not know we were related at first... JOHN: i wasn't sure how YOU were related to her, back when you were pen pals. JOHN: do you remember sending me that letter? JAKE: By jove i almost forgot about that. It feels like ages ago. JOHN: i don't know how long it was for you, but i got it three years ago. JAKE: I mean from my point of view it was only a couple of months but a lots gone on. JOHN: it arrived on my birthday so it was right on time. JOHN: it came in handy in a tight spot. JOHN: you were right in your letter, i DO love movies. JOHN: even if i am not into wrestling that much. JAKE: Oh well ive had my fill of fisticuffs for awhile anyway. Movies on the other hand i havent had much time to dig into! JAKE: By the way did you like your present?? And little terry kiser? JOHN: um... JOHN: well, i named her liv tyler, actually. i didn't know you already named her, or him. JOHN: anyway, she saved my butt in a big way! JOHN: and then she flew off on a ship heroically, but ran off again i guess? JOHN: and then she somehow joined dave and rose on their even more heroic mission to blow up a sun. JOHN: which they failed to do mostly because they actually MADE the sun, but the important thing is that they tried. JOHN: they came back, but i think the bunny didn't make it. :( JAKE: I live by the philosophy that when a stuffed toy changes hands its appropriate to change its name. It gives things a history like that. JAKE: At least she died doing something i presume she enjoyed. JOHN: blowing up? JAKE: No!! Being a hero and dicing up bad guys! JOHN: was the robot sentient? JOHN: maybe we should have treated it with more respect, so it would not turn evil and destroy us like a watership down version of skynet. JAKE: I mean dirk helped me a little in making it and all of his projects seem to enjoy that kind of mayhem. JAKE: Not as much as his own version of the rabbit but i think in giving me advice at least a couple of his engine greased fingerprints are on it. JOHN: man, everyone is some sort of robotics genius around here. JOHN: if we hadn't already had an apocalypse ushered in by rogue technology i would be worried. JAKE: I briefly suspected hal but no worries. JAKE: I think if he were going to attempt a robopocalypse he wouldve done it a long time ago when he was bored and had less to do. JOHN: he and terezi would get along. they both seem to enjoy wreaking mayhem for fun, although she says she's sorry now. JAKE: They might try but dirk would go spare. JAKE: And I think hes tossed out all his spares for today already. JOHN: everyone has learned their lesson about devious deeds! JOHN: i'm confident that will not happen in the future. JOHN: instead we can relax and do things like watch that movie you were recommending. JAKE: Oh yeah!! JAKE: Which one did i recommend again? I think it was weekend at bernies. JOHN: the one about the corpse getting moved around to trick people? JAKE: Oh yes! Two gentlemen discover that their boss has died shortly before throwing a party and try to convince people hes still alive by puppeting his body around! Its really quite hilarious! JOHN: it sounds good. JOHN: although apparently i'm already locked in to watching a few others. JOHN: including dave's? JOHN: i can't believe he became a big deal movie star in your world, that's hilarious. JAKE: He did. Ive got one of his characters tattooed on my arm! JOHN: um JOHN: you do? JOHN: wow. JOHN: have you told him that? JAKE: Not yet. Should i? JOHN: you might actually make him speechless, which would be a first. JOHN: definitely try it. JOHN: wait, which one is it anyway? JOHN: also, how did you get a tattoo? JOHN: i thought you grew up alone or something, like jade did. JAKE: Ive got sweet bro. Dirk gave it to me after we met up! JAKE: Hes got hella jeff. We match! JAKE: Let me tell you it was a harrowing thing getting it! Id heard getting a tattoo really hurts but you know what i just closed my eyes and before i knew it it was over just like that. JOHN: ... JOHN: huh. JOHN: well, that sounds exciting. i'm sure he'll be thrilled. JOHN: none of us have ever shown that level of devotion. JOHN: mostly we just repeat his shitty memes. JAKE: Dirk takes memes to a whole new level pal. JOHN: i haven't really had a chance to meet him before this. JOHN: i've been missing out on so many reunions today, maybe because i keep bouncing around taking people places. JOHN: out of you guys i've mostly talked to jane and roxy. JOHN: and i only talked to jane once! JOHN: i'm already behind. JAKE: Oh im sure youll get along great! Hes a cool dude and super smart. A little odd but he genuinely means well. JOHN: i'm looking forward to meeting everyone! JOHN: wait, i did meet him once, that's right. JOHN: back in the bad timeline, i saw him floating in space and asked him what happened, because i'd just come back from fighting calliope's brother. JOHN: but all he said was 'i failed' and then he... turned into glitter? JOHN: there were lots of glitches floating around, it was a hazard. JOHN: hopefully we can overcome that first impression. JAKE: ...yeah that sounds like dirk. JAKE: He can be pretty dramatic. JOHN: rose and dave are super dramatic too, he'll fit right in. JOHN: with all of us together it's going to be all drama all the time. JOHN: it will be up to us normal people to keep things under control. JAKE: He grew up all alone so sometimes i think he only knows how to act from movies too but who knows. Maybe it runs in families. JAKE: Family. Weird. JAKE: Hey that means were family too arent we? JOHN: i guess so! JOHN: you're my... JOHN: hm. JOHN: relative. JAKE: Relative. I guess. JAKE: I cant exactly go calling you great uncle john even if i still call jade "grandma". JAKE: Has a ring to it though! Great uncle john! Its all folksy like poppop crocker. JOHN: that's right, i was jane's grandpa in your universe, i guess. JOHN: which is also weird to think about. JOHN: and i was sort of everyone's dad, by mixing our slimes. JOHN: so it keeps getting more outrageous. JOHN: as for knowing how to act from movies... JOHN: i didn't even grow up alone, and i think sometimes i have that problem. JOHN: you want your life to make sense that way! JOHN: but real life is a lot more complicated sometimes. JAKE: Yeah!! JAKE: God yes it is. ESPECIALLY when it comes to romance. Good grief. JOHN: i know! JOHN: the movies make it look like it's essential or something, when usually in real life it mostly seems to cause trouble. JOHN: but you can't get a good ending otherwise, unless you accomplish that and a bunch of other arbitrary criteria. JOHN: most of which we haven't accomplished ourselves, but i think we're going to get a good ending anyway. JOHN: still it can mess with your head. JOHN: real life is not like the movies, that's for sure. JAKE: Its hard to have a romance going when your life is constantly under threat by skeleton monsters. JAKE: Also your first time seeing another person in ten years and your first boyfriend happen on like the same day. JOHN: see, that's how it happens in the movies sometimes. JOHN: the main characters meet up and get together right away, and i guess you have to assume it all works out, because the movie ends. JOHN: but when you're actually doing things it is not that convenient, you have to keep going. JOHN: although i hope we're going to get a break soon. JOHN: i would be happy for the credits to close on the constant heroics and dying for a while. JAKE: Me too. JAKE: I want a nap. Without an evil spider troll waking me up. JAKE: Movies also dont tell you how tiring the whole rigmarole of adventure is. JOHN: the main characters always look great, if fashionably ruffled, and they can keep going no matter what. JOHN: but i'm kind of tired. JOHN: especially since i've lived through the same hours twice in places i think? JAKE: You and your weird time travel nonsense again huh? JOHN: i will probably be mostly retiring that, i wouldn't want to cause any more trouble. JOHN: for now it looks like everything is turning out fine on its own. JAKE: Yessir i think were on the right path now and as soon as were done here im gonna take a long nap and anyone who cares to wake me up can throw down about it even if they are a hitherto-perfectly nice troll lady. Or human lady. Or anyone else. JAKE: The suplex of slumber justice is unisex. JOHN: that's the spirit! JOHN: we will all pass out and righteously beat up any one who disturbs us. JOHN: except hopefully once we are settled somewhere a little less exposed. JOHN: if we were asleep here someone might roll off. JAKE: But we can fly? JAKE: Where would we even fall? Towards the frog since its like a planet? Or... down? Were being pulled down by gravity i guess but how can we fall down if theres just space? JAKE: Would we float in our sleep? Maybe just get sucked back to the victory platform? JOHN: that sounds like a question for jade, she's more interested in how this works. JOHN: i told her science was dumb and boring if it didn't work the way i wanted, which made her upset, but i guess i got what i wanted. JOHN: so hah. JAKE: So science works how you want now? JAKE: Are you ganking my power set young man?? JOHN: not all of science, just space and time i guess. JOHN: and all of the scientific laws i am violating with my wanton displacement of matter and energy. JOHN: what ever those laws might be. JOHN: i am not a scientist or lawyer. JOHN: or science lawyer. JAKE: You fiend. Ah well as long as you dont go abusing your power im sure nothing terrible will happen. Like you flap your windy hood and cause a hurricane down south like an errant butterfly of causality. JOHN: well, i sort of lured lord english here, but i had to to save calliope, and we had to fight him anyway, so hopefully you can let that slide. JOHN: like i said, i will be taking it easy from now on. JAKE: I hear you there. Im over here asking myself do i even want to go wandering around this wonderland of dreaminess or do i just want to curl up over in that edge of the lily pad and have a nice snooze? JAKE: You know i can nap almost anywhere. I consider it a talent. JAKE: I have fallen asleep on clear grassy hills except thats probably not a good thing because centaurs can track through at any moment and they arent too careful about where they step! JOHN: jade was like that too! JOHN: although it MIGHT have partly been a troll messing with her brain again? JOHN: trolls sure are meddlesome. JOHN: anyway, this is probably our last chance to explore the dream bubbles, so maybe hold off on the naps until later. JOHN: also, centaurs? JAKE: Centaurs! JAKE: Oh yeah did i never say my island was full of alien monsters? JAKE: Because my island was full of alien monsters. JOHN: wow, your life actually WAS like a movie. JOHN: no wonder it was tempting to see yourself as an action hero. JOHN: everyone else had such weird and dramatic childhoods. JOHN: i don't have many bragging rights but JOHN: i liked mine. JOHN: i guess i'm one of the people that actually... left something ok behind? JOHN: but that's fine! because there can be ok things in the future too. JOHN: or hopefully more than ok. JAKE: I hope so. JAKE: I mean most things would probably be better than having to keep an eye out for monsters while walking to the pantry for canned friggin beets. JAKE: Not that i couldnt handle myself but beets arent worth that much. JOHN: bluch, no. JOHN: jade kept trying to make us eat our vegetables. JOHN: it was terrible. JOHN: she doesn't even know about lunchables. JAKE: My grandma ONLY stocked veggies. JAKE: And this weird stuff called spam. JOHN: i think our jade would probably have a heart attack if she saw spam. JOHN: although she does like raw beef these days. JOHN: which is a little alarming if you see her eat it. JAKE: I think she mostly included it as a courtesy to me and also i dont think theres many other great ways to keep meat. JAKE: So i hunted! Hopefully most of those creatures were edible and i didnt give myself any weird diseases. JOHN: the rest of you were like man versus wild! JOHN: including dave and rose kind of, even though they lived in real houses. JOHN: i will have to catch up if we are in some sort of survivor situation in the new universe. JOHN: i'm not really sure how that will pan out. JAKE: Youll be fine. Well watch your back! JAKE: Dirk will probably like. Invent a house if you give him long enough. JAKE: Just stick with jane and youll be fine. Shes kind of like you in that she also had a pretty cushy upbringing if you count out the assassination attempts. JAKE: Not that i hold it against her anything. We all take our lumps as theyre given. I mean she also has a dead grand- JAKE: Wait a minute. JAKE: Did you say you were...? JAKE: *Suspicious squinting.* JOHN: what? JAKE: Janes... JAKE: Poppop? JOHN: i... guess so? JOHN: that would make sense, she was my nanna. JOHN: oh man, was i also crushed to death by a flying baby? JOHN: that would be so undignified. JAKE: But hold the damn phone!! JAKE: You were ALSO jades brother in my timeline! JAKE: So if you were siblings and youre also janes poppop... JAKE: Would that make her and i... related?? JOHN: um... JOHN: not genetically? JOHN: but i think you were adopted siblings in our world. JAKE: !! JOHN: she grew up with a brother under a wicked alien queen. JOHN: which was betty crocker! JOHN: and the troll empress. JOHN: it is all connected. JAKE: So we were always family! JAKE: Gosh shell be so surprised to find out i bet. Just over the moon. JOHN: who doesn't want more family? JAKE: Of course! Good gravy aint that just like a movie. So many of us grow up without any family to speak of and we find out we were all family all along! JAKE: Consarnit id even call that some kind of irony. JOHN: at least it's a pretty crazy coincidence. JOHN: except since skaia set it up that way it's not a coincidence at all. JAKE: The chilly wind of fate whips through our unshielded undercarriages. JAKE: Get out of there skaia that zone is closed for business! JAKE: Its not enough to be whipping round my legs its gotta go and nab my shorts too... JAKE: Well ive had the last laugh. Ive got PANTS now! AND family! HAH! JOHN: well, fate or coincidence or whatever, I'M happy about it. JOHN: and i think both pants and family are important.

#bonus content #jake english #john egbert

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silverdragon-imagines-blog · 6 years ago

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Moving Forward - Chapter 1

[A few people said yes, so here we go. The fanfic I’m currently working on called Moving Forward. I hope you enjoy.]

AO3 Link

How long had we been on the surface? Maybe a few months, but unlike the other counterparts, us from the Fell-verses were less accepted. Soon after reaching sunlight, we saw the now rising sun cast a golden glow on the city in the distance, it was truly a breath-taking sight, one that long overdue. It was obvious that it wouldn’t last once humans dressed in protective gear came running up the mountain, and rounded us all up. The monsters still in the caves were soon to follow, and I could feel tension in the air from magic attacks getting charged. Many monsters were anticipating a fight once reaching the surface, but one look from our Queen, and everything stopped. The humans took that as a sign of surrender, and we were herded down the mountain pass. I managed to stay close to sans and the kid, keeping an eye on the humans that had weapons out.

We were shoved into abandoned buildings like animals into cages, but our Queen forbid any and all complaints. The kid ended up leaving once the humans left, but I never found out if they made it back to the old man. Sans got cabin fever pretty quickly, in fact, many monsters wanted out shortly after being left in the building. Once the Queen talked to the human leaders days later, we gained better housing, but it was almost like we never left the Underground. We were packed into one or two room apartments, in the same closed off area as the other Fell-verse monsters.

That's about when I met my brother's double. The small town-area we had ended up being divided in half, with my underground inhabiting one side of it. I was looking for Muffet’s, though I wasn’t sure if she could even set up shop anywhere in this place. I must have gone too far since I found a place called Grillby’s, but it wasn’t the same odd pink flame from Coldsea behind the counter. Instead, there was a dark blue flame monster wearing an expensive looking leather jacket and shades, and even more surprising, the place was a bar.

The place had an odd atmosphere to it, plenty of patrons were in various stages of drunkenness with one monster slumped over the bar, and that was the other sans. I took the open seat next to him and ordered a few drinks, one for me and the other for the sans. That’s about when we ended up talking.

“So yer the other Paps, huh?” He questioned peering at me from his folded up arms, only a red eyelight being visible.

“Seems so.”

“Heh. Not much of a talker, huh?” He picked up the glass and sniffed it before smirking and lifting it towards me, “Thanks for the booze anyway.”

I gave a shrug and lifted my own glass to his in a cheers then taking a drink, immediately sputtering and coughing in surprise at the strong bitter taste of it. The sans started laughing pretty hard after that, and then he suggested nicknames for us to use so as to not get confused with our brothers and the “stupid vanilla verses”. He called me Rus and he was called Crim.

Crim was more similar to me than my bro, a bit lazy and anxious, but we understood each other. He had more of a temper, especially since we started meeting up. We mostly went there to drink and complain, though Crim did most, if not all, of the complaining. According to him, the “vanilla verses” arrived on the surface first and set a good example that quickly allowed them to travel around, but that didn’t apply to them when they came up to the surface.

“So, uh, what ended up happening with you?” I asked, causing Crim to look at me questioningly, “You said that the Tale-verses got here with no issues?”

“Yeah, it was fucken ridiculous. We got out maybe two months after the Classics, but a few weeks after Swaps.” Crim took a swig of his beer then continued.

“We got ta see the sun, sure, but then when we started walkin’ down, humans got all confused and then started askin’ questions none of us could answer. Some monsters got mad, and you know, Fells get violent when mad, so tha’s what happened.” Crim paused to sigh, getting an almost vulnerable look to his eyes that showed pain and hurt. “Everyone got herded into this shithole, and both the kid and Pap ended up going missing for a few days. I’ve only ever been that scared once before in my life, and ‘s not one I ever wanted ta revisit. Thankfully, everything got smoothed over somewhat quick, and Pap an’ I found each other again, but no one’s a hundred percent sure where the kid went.”

“That’s rough buddy,” I didn’t know how else to respond, and to think that could have been my first few days on the surface. It was a frightening thought.

After a few months in our dreary and cramped homes, both Fell-verse rulers announced a new policy that was approved by the humans, a sort of ID card that we had to earn, which would allow Fell-monsters into the monster villages around Mt. Ebott. That made quite a few monsters angry, including sans. Us being on the surface seemed to make him more irritable, maybe it was our conditions or maybe it was the lack of progress. Crim said the same was true for his brother, and that he wasn’t sure if it was a sign or not. It maybe didn’t help that the Royal Guards became a single force, making both captains work together along with both of our brothers. Crim seemed to agree.

I just focused on getting that card for myself, which was made easier thanks to my background in science and engineering. Skilled monsters got priority in the first few interviews, which happened to include the Undyne from my world and Crim’s Alphys. Everyone was told to change their names to make the process easier, so I thanked Crim under my breath and chose the name Rus Aster. I only needed to give some sort of background on myself and show off a bit, fix a few things here and there, and then an application was submitted shortly afterwards.

I began to avoid bringing this up with sans, mostly because he rejoined the guard with the other Fell monsters. I figured he'd be annoyed or even angry with how I just accepted the human’s terms, but it's not like he was in charge of my decisions. Once my application was accepted a few weeks later and I had the ID card safely pocketed, Crim and I went out for celebratory drinks. He was surprisingly happy with how I got one so quickly, and said that he tried to get one as well, but the humans were a bit scared of him and his temper, so he wasn't going to get any privileges any time soon. I felt bad for the guy, but he seemed to just accept his fate and told me to go enjoy myself where the Tale-verse monsters were.

The next day was when I left for the actual monster city, once sans left for his guard meeting I packed a bag and headed out. The border gate wasn't anything special, just a tall wire fence that had barbed wire at the top of it. I just pulled out my ID and let them check my bag, which only had a few essentials and monster brand cigarettes. They let me go through without very much trouble, and left me to do whatever I wanted pretty much. For an hour or so, I just walked around, getting a few stares and pointing fingers, but it wasn't too hard to ignore them. I found a Muffet's not long after, and upon entering the room was dead quiet. I just walked over to the counter and sat down, waiting to order. Then next to me, I heard practically my voice.

"Hey buddy, whatcha doin here?" I looked over to get a plume of smoke in face, which brought a few shocked gasps from the other customers. I waved the smoke away to see one of my doubles, dressed in a bright orange hoodie and cargo shorts.

I gave a small laugh.

"Can't a guy just get some Muffet's?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, then turned to Muffet who was standing a bit off to the side.

"Whatever the guy wants, it's on me." He said, then turned back to me with a lazy smirk on his face, "Welcome to Underswap Muffet's, Fell-verse me. Name's Orange."

"Thanks... I'm called Rus."

That's the first time I met one of the Tale-verse doubles. We talked about different things, ranging from our brothers to our doubles to our differences. Orange seemed oddly accepting of me, considering our differences, but he listened and knew when to move onto something else when I got uncomfortable. It was probably one of the more pleasant conversations I’ve had, maybe in part to the calm and carefree attitude he had. It was nice.

“Hey, d’you wanna wander around or something?” Orange said, making me look behind us. Unsurprisingly, a few monsters made eye contact and retreated to their conversations and food.

“...Yeah, might be fun.” I replied, earning a laugh.

“C’mon, I gotta show ya the best hangouts ‘round here.” Orange grabbed my hand and began pulling me to my feet and out the door.

It was colder now and approaching night, though the sun was still out and casting red-orange light across the sky. It was honestly nicer to look at here than where the Fell section was.

“Hey, buddy,” I was taken away from my thoughts to see Orange pointing behind him, further down the street. “If you wanna watch the sky for stars, Mt. Ebott’s the way to go.”

He started walking and I followed behind, and it lapsed into companionable silence. Walking up the path changed the chatter and noise of the town to crickets and night birds, making everything seem serene and peaceful. We reached the opening to the place where we all first experienced the surface, and Orange beckoned to sit down next to him. For awhile, it was silent between us, and Orange took the time to lay back and get comfortable. I was a little on edge, as it was still the first time I was out of the Fell-verse area, and being cautious was drilled into us, but the calm was nice.

After awhile, Orange sat up and tapped my shoulder, startling me until he gestured upwards with a lazy smile on his face. I looked up and saw stars. Millions and billions of them. It was nothing like those science texts sans would read and get excited over, and even better than the small cavern holes I’d see around the forest. I kind of wished that I could’ve taken sans here with me, he would’ve loved it. It's a bit strange to say, but my first time out of that prison the humans call a town, this was very liberating.

When it started getting late, I traded numbers with Orange and left a few G on the counter. The trek back was easy, maybe a few stares and whispering in my direction, but that was all. Once again, I showed off my ID and let them check my bag, gaining entry to the compound. Returning home however, I knew sans would not be happy.

"Where were you," sans spoke.

I had just gotten in and set my bag down, only to see sans, standing with his arms crossed and a disappointed look on his face.

"I was hanging out around this place," I responded, removing my shoes and stepping into the front room. “Why? Does it matter for some reason?"

He rolled his eyes.

“It matters if you wind up dusted somewhere and I’m not aware of it.”

“Bro, it’s fine. We’re on the surface now, and the monsters here have enough sense not to kill each other now that the humans can find us.” I walked closer as I spoke, but it seemed like Sans wasn’t going to believe any of it. “We can relax up here bro, like when we were kids.”

“I don’t know what fairy tale universe you’re talking about, Papyrus.” He had a disgusted look on his face, like I had offended him by bringing up relaxing, “There was never a time to relax, and if you think I’m going to stoop so low as to obey the humans and play along with their stupid demands, then I guess you never really knew me.”

“Sans, I never said obey the humans.” I tried to reason with him, “Just, get the ID card, okay? Then we can be out of this dump and live somewhere quieter, away from the other monsters. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

He didn’t answer, instead just shooting me an annoyed glare before he walked off to his room. Once he left, I settled down on the couch, looking at the ceiling as I got lost in my thoughts. This place wasn’t good for us, hell, anywhere near the Fell-verses was bad. Maybe one day I’ll get sans to agree to leave this godforsaken place. It was a nice thought as I drifted off.

#moving forward #fanfic #swapfell #underfell #underswap #undertale #undertale au #silver writes #alcohol

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seeingdoubleau · 7 years ago

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Seeing Double: Chapter 2

Revelations

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He didn’t know what he was expecting besides finding an utterly ruined building, but for some reason he had still come here.

St. Paul’s Hospital

Well, he had nowhere else to go...

Alex shaped his right hand into a claw (which looked a lot smaller than he was used to) and tore away the thick tendrils blocking the entrance. Once inside he found even more biomass spreading over the remains of the entrance’s information desk. And pretty much everything else. Hacking and slashing away at the viral vines, Alex made his way to the staircase and down to the dark morgue. A pathologist named Professor Bradley Ragland had worked here. Once, he had saved Alex’s life from a cancer that had been devouring him and helped locate his sister’s infected kidnapper. He’d been incredibly thankful that someone was willing to help him, considering most people either ran away from him screaming or wanted to end his life. But now he wasn’t sure whether Ragland was still alive either. Which made him realize that going to the morgue may have been a pointless endeavour.

Alex shoved the left-over half of the morgue’s double-door to the side with a little bit too much force, sending it flying off its rusty hinges. It smashed into the room’s far-right corner, splintering loudly. Alex flinched; he’d probably get unwanted attention from equally unwanted guests.

Giving the deserted morgue a quick look revealed a clear lack of bodies, and when Alex took a closer look at the floor and the tables (which were still in place and mostly untouched by the creeping biomass, to his surprise) he found no documents or notes. The blackboard next to the computer was also wiped clean, save for a fine layer of dust.

Alex stood in the room, completely lost. Now what? He glanced at the monitor on the table. If he was lucky for once, the computer might still work and he could check the date. Certain that the power was off, he took a look around for the circuitry box. The moment the electricity returned, lights flickered on in the morgue. With that, the place looked a lot more familiar already. Only one thing missing: The Doc himself.

“Where the hell did you go, Ragland?”, Alex thought out loud.

Now that the computer was hopefully operable again, Alex pushed the tower’s power button. He sighed with relief when the lights winked on and the screen flickered to life. For what felt like the first time in his so short life, things were going well for him (Excluding the cryo-stasis and waking up to a Manhattan from the end-times). The computer had finally reached the login screen, into which Alex entered Ragland’s password and ID. He’d given it to him before he left to find the first contact location with the “insider”, who had actually been Cross. Remembering him made Alex pause for a moment. Admittedly, he felt remorseful, in particular because they never really got to know each other. Despite their hostile introduction, Alex had developed a strange soft spot for that hardass of a captain.

He shook his head and cleared his thoughts, returning to the computer. It was taking its sweet time, and Alex was about to give the tower a gentle tap with his foot, when the home screen finally showed up. In the lower right-hand corner was the time and date, reading 09:29 pm, 05/16/2010. Alex blinked in disbelief. 19 months since he was born on the floor of Penn Station, the 1st November 2008. He’d been gone for a long time.

“19 months...” shaken, Alex buried his face in his numb, trembling hands. His skin crawled with agitated tendrils as his mind came up with all manners of scenarios, none of them comforting. What had been his last memories before the vault? He remembered again; being captured by Blackwatch shortly after having reformed himself from the biomass puddle, what was left of him after the nuke. Since then about 19 months had flown by and god knows what happened in between. It certainly wasn’t good, taking New York’s look into consideration. He didn’t know where to start, so much was going on in his head.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!” His voice echoed in the empty hallway. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Same thing as before. The only thing he’s ever known.. Hunt, kill, consume, and become even more of a monster. What’s gonna be left of me by the end of this?

He didn’t want to admit it, but it was inevitable. It was foolish to think he could be anything other than what he was made to be. A senseless killing-machine. The misery he caused himself and others wasn’t going to end anytime soon...

He sat still for a few minutes, trying but failing to blot out the tormented voices and screams in his head, which had swelled to a cacophonous choir. A knot was forming in his chest, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. The metal table beneath his fingers began to bend with each harrowing moment. Alex had to get out of the hospital. He was going to snap. Just when he got to his feet and turned, the barrel of a large handgun greeted him, poised to put a bullet between his eyes. The Blacklight entity snarled. Aggravated, Alex’ eyes traced along the shooter’s arm to look at their face. Even with a gas mask on, he would recognize those alert eyes anywhere. But now there was also a cold, calculating fury in them.

“Ragland?” Alex’ brow furrowed. Why was the Doc pointing a gun at him? ”What the hell are you doing? It’s me, Alex!”

“I know damn well who you are and what you’ve done, Mercer.” Ragland spat Alex’ name with undisguised reproach. Alex bared his inhumanly-sharp teeth at the accusation. What did he do?

“What are you talking about? I’ve been in some sort of Gentek freezer for 19 months, what the hell am I supposed to have done?”

“Don’t you dare play tricks on me. You’re not getting out of this alive, not with the bullets that are in this gun,” Ragland’s voice dropped to a threatening whisper “They should cure you.”

Alex was genuinely concerned for his well-being.

“Look, Ragland, whoever you think I am, whoever did that out there,” Alex clenched his jaw in frustration,

“It wasn’t me.”

Spoken through gritted teeth, his statement did nothing to dissuade the pathologist. Ragland eyed him suspiciously, but still not lowering the firearm. Alex was out of options. He couldn’t slap the pistol out of Ragland’s hand; he’d been wise enough to put distance between them. And if Alex made a move he’d have a quite possibly lethal bullet somewhere. He knew Ragland had studied him more than anybody else still alive, so it was no mistake to assume he had the means to create something lethal to the Virus. Which begged the question: how much had Gentek been able to study him? Alex was pulled out of his stupor when Ragland’s radio crackled.

“All units in the vicinity, Hades is engaging Zeus on the rooftop of Penn Station. Rendezvous for coordinated attack.”

So there is another me, Alex thought, confused at how this could have happened.

The look on Ragland’s face confirmed that he was equally bewildered by the announcement. Gradually, the situation became clear to the pathologist, and he curtly lowered the gun and switched the safety on.

Both men stood in the room, stunned. Save for the rasp of Ragland’s gas mask, it was pin-drop quiet. Until he took off his mask and finally spoke up.

“Well…This is the last thing I expected...” he trailed off, but quickly realising what Alex had said before. “You were in cryogenic storage? For 19 months?”

The Virus sighed with relief. “Yeah, I slept through whatever hell’s broken loose. I found out right before you came in,” Alex gestured at the computer behind him. “So, the fuck’s happened?”

Ragland shook his head slightly, baffled at the mess unfolding before his very eyes, “It had been a few weeks since the military completely pulled out of Manhattan, in January, when that other you came back, and...” Ragland trailed off, his voice going faint, “Alex, he infected New York. I don’t know why, but since then things have gone downhill, badly. Blackwatch and Gentek are worse than ever; Brooklyn’s become the Yellow Zone, Staten Island is Green, and...well, you can probably guess what Manhattan is...”

“Red.” Alex concluded. Great, the entirety of NY’s become a traffic light of scientific malpractices and shady government bioweapon programs. And apparently it was because of some imposter.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Hm,” Alex mulled over his options; go face that bastard who had his name and meet this Hades person (no doubt another infected similar to him), or try to find Dana— “Wait, how’s Dana?” Ragland blinked, thrown off by the sudden change of topic. “She woke up a month after Blackwatch pulled out of Manhattan. She’s still in the red zone, hacking into Blackwatch and Gentek networks under the moniker ‘Athena’. I don’t think—Alex, are you alright?”

Alex huffed out a breath as he tried to suppress a grin. His sister was alive. Maybe not safe (who would be, in this city?), but alive and well. For a moment it occurred to him how odd it was to hide his emotions behind his jacket sleeve, and what elicited this human behaviour, but he quickly brushed the thought away. “Doc, you have no idea how good it is to hear that..”, Alex muttered, before looking up at the other. “Thank you.”

A rarity, Alex Mercer of all people being sincerely thankful, which Ragland grasped. “Glad I could help. I guess, at the bare bones, we’re all still fighting the same fight: put a stop to Gentek before one of their goddamn experiments puts a stop to the world as we know it.”

Alex couldn’t agree more. Which left one issue, that of the FAKE BITCHASS ZEUS malevolent copy. “Alright, I’ll see if i can’t go and join the rooftop-party at Penn Station and meet Hades.”

“Well then I suggest you change your appearance, because last time I checked, you two look identical.”

Alex frowned, almost pouting (he should be the one to keep this outfit, not that imposter), before his body melted apart into a sea of writhing tendrils. Even with limited biomass, he formed himself a tattered, faded-red trench coat over a beige sweater, with a new pair of boots instead of loafers. And lastly, with a heavy heart, he ditched the hood.

“Looking good, I’d say,” Ragland gave him a once-over, before nodding his approval. He patted Alex’s shoulder. “Now go kick his butt.”

Alex gave a raspy laugh. “With pleasure…”

With that, Mercer went on his way and left the wrecked hospital behind.

#[prototype]#Alex Mercer #zeus mercer #proteus mercer #Bradley Ragland #seeing double au #mod bio

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allofusandco · 7 years ago

Text

well, hello | sam and wynonna

Wynonna meets Sam Winchester while disposing of some vampire bodies.

with @thexboyxking.

Wynonna:

Ah, gross! Dead bodies were always gross. And in general, Wynonna preferred to avoid them. But dead bodies, and she wasn’t all that clear on some of the boundaries between the species but this was definitely…

Well, something. Revenants. Vampires. Whatever. She had bigger things to worry about but steering clear of things that weren’t revenants was looking more and more like a pipe dream.

There was a sound behind her.

Benefit of the doubt had, despite the odds, turned out to work better than anticipated in juvie and jail but Wynonna was done with it. She had her gun out and on him before he could open his mouth.

“Five seconds to convince me not to shoot you in the face,” she said. “Maybe avoid poetry.”

–––––

Sam:

Fighting off supernaturally powered creatures wasn’t a new song and dance for Sam, as a matter of fact it usually was just another day of the week for him. What was odd though, and the thing setting his little skirmish apart from any other, was what seemed like a regular average Jane kicking ass. Most civilians, even the ones that knew how to handle themselves in a fight, didn’t manage to get the drop on whatever baddie was cornering them.

They usually didn’t manage to get a gun pointed right smack in the middle of his face either.

“Hey now,” he held up his hand, fingers clicking the safety back into place on his gun as he took a step back from the woman. “Easy, I was just coming to help….not that it looks like you really need it. You a hunter?”

It wasn’t the usual up front kind of question even he would ask but seeing as she was two seconds from shooting him and had managed a handful of monsters on her own Sam figured a little bluntness wouldn’t kill him.

Alright, so he’d managed to convince her in under five seconds, well done. Still. She held the gun in place for a moment or two more, mostly for effect, before replacing the safety and slipping the Peacemaker back into its holster.

–––––

Wynonna:

“A hunter?” She’d met a few. She supposed the answer was yes, at least partly. She slipped her badge from her pocket. “U.S. Marshall. Um… U.S. Marshall, Monster division.” She cocked her head; he was cute. Hunters were usually a little more grizzly, but she wasn’t complaining. “Sort of. Slightly AWOL. We had a difference of opinion, but no one managed to take the badge off me, and it does come in handy.”

She turned back to the bodies, human and… not human, sort of disappointed the not-humans hadn’t been dragged into hell; but she didn’t miss revenants. “Could use some help getting rid of these. Assuming they’re vampires, but seems like every goddamn thing has teeth these days.” She wiped her bloody palm off on her jeans and leaned in to shake. “Wynonna.” He hadn’t earned a last name yet, especially since that tended to bring on a whole ’nother conversation she wasn’t quite ready for.

–––––

Sam:

With the gun off of hi Sam allowed himself to relax a little bit though he did keep his guard up just a bit. Just because she seemed to know how to handle herself around vampires didn’t mean she would maintain friendliness with him.

“Monster division,” there was a hint of disbelief when he said it, a grin twitching at the corners of his lips. “Yeah ok, if you’re going to be tossing around the fake ID’s you might want to actually go with a division that actually exists.”

Being a ‘professional’ hunter wasn’t going to win her any favors when it came to getting information on hunts and Sam mentally made a note that she seemed fresh to the job.

“I’m Sam, Sam Winchester,” he reached out and shook her hand before letting his eyes move back to the vampires. “A group like this it’s probably best we find a place to burn them. You don’t need the local cops finding a bunch of headless people and causing panic.”

He could handle helping her with that, maybe get to know a little back story on her too. It never hurt to have a few backup hunters you could call on when needed.

–––––

Wynonna:

Wynonna narrowed her eyes. “Black Shield, then. I’ve always thought of it as Monster Division. And it’s not fake. Just… technically, I’m not currently entitled to carry it.” From her cold, dead hands they’d have to pry it. She needed a little holiday, that was all. Sick of being told what to do.

That hand, though – roughly the size of a dinner plate, and strong, very nice. Maybe her night would be a little less lonely than she’d planned. Should probably play nice. Might be worth it to see what was under that shirt. “Winchester. That’s cute. I was thinking I might change mine to Smith, or Wesson. Maybe Colt.” She turned back to the pile of bodies on the ground.

“I had high hopes they might just themselves sucked into hell, but I guess it’s not my day,” she said. “Local cops can kiss my very perky ass. I don’t want kids stumbling across them. I’ve got a truck, if you’ll help me load them up.”

She had a truck. Probably hadn’t been reported stolen yet. Might never be, if the old lady went into her garage as rarely as Wynonna suspected.

“And it’s Earp. Yeah, that Earp.”

–––––

Sam:

Black division, monster division—whatever way she tried to sell it as Sam wasn’t buying it. In all his time hinting he’d never once run across anything that indicated that the government knew about the things that went bump in the night. It wasn’t possible, hell even going through the Bunker research hadn’t given any indication that the government knew of these things. It was absurd to think about them knowing and not ever helping.

“Earp, sorry that doesn’t ring any bells,” he said feeling slightly bad since she seemed to expect it of him. “You get a lot of things dragging themselves back to hell?” he asked ignoring the slight jab at his name. It wasn’t unusual, though to be fair he hadn’t gotten it in a few years now…also as a side thought Wynonna Colt didn’t sound awful.

“So where’s this truck of yours? We’ll get them loaded up and to a remote area, then we can burn them,” he half asked half stated as he glanced towards the bodies on the ground.

–––––

Wynonna:

Wynonna spun on her heel. “Earp doesn’t ring any – Wyatt Earp? Greatest US Marshall that ever lived? Put countless bad guys in the ground, back when robbing a train or a bank was a good idea? Even a career path?”

There were people who hadn’t heard of Wyatt Earp? Wynonna was borderline offended.

She patted the gun at her hip. “Depends on the thing. There’s a – family curse, blessing, what have you. All the law breaker old Wyatt put down tend to come back. I shoot ’em with this, the ground kinda… opens up.”

She was telling too much. Yeah, offended, had to be that. Might be tall and pretty but right now Sam was shit out of luck if he’d been hoping for a warmer bed tonight.

“It’s only around the corner,” she said. “Gimme three minutes.”

In two and a half, she was backing into the alley, and getting down to drag the bodies up. Strong she was, yeah, the heir and all, but that didn’t make it any more fun to get them up onto the back.

“Couldn’t help notice the implication of a hand,” she said. “And I accept. Couple of shovels there in the lock box. Get in the cab. Promise I’ll drop you home after.”

–––––

Sam:

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender as she rounded on him going on about her family name. In all fairness he was farily sure he’d had the same reaction in his own head a few times when other hunters claimed they hadn’t heard of him, Dean or the Winchester’s. He got the whole family pride angle pretty good.

“Earp, yeah sorry, I remember now. The whole wild west, cowboy thing is more my brother’s gig,” he added with a smirk. Dean would recognize her name right away, he probably knew about whatever curse she had going on too.

Grabbing one of the vampires he helped load them into the bed of the truck before making his way to the cab to get in. She was right, he’d offered help and he wasn’t about to back out of it now.

“Alright so this curse thing,” he said shifting in his seat to look at her better, “what’s the deal with that? We talking demons or ghosts or something else entirely?” Sam was naturally curious and family curses were sort of in the job description so he couldn’t help but want more details here.

–––––

Wynonna:

Wynonna shook her head. How any man could have so little interest in history she did not know, but she wasn’t going to stand around and feed him a lesson when they had a grave to dig.

She pulled out of the alley smoothly, trying to decide on the best route to take.

Was she going to share her story with a perfect stranger? Well, yeah, she was, because he was a captive audience and a hunter and a perfect specimen of the male form, so why the heck not.

“My home town is a little berg called Purgatory, where my great granddaddy was brung up, and lived most of his life. Everyone he shot and killed with this gun went straight to Hades. And every time the family heir hits the ripe old age of twenty-seven, the curse kicks in, and all those dead bandits get on up out of the ground again. And we put ’em back down. Call ’em revenants. They’re demons. Act a little like vampires, though, sure like chewin’ on folks. Nasty things. If you’re lucky y’can watch me put one down one day – earth swallows ’em whole, back down into the pit. It’s a thing to see.” She smiled. “Course, the gun will kill just about anything. Comes in handy when they send something else nasty after me. Nothin’ like the panic in their eyes when they realize their number is up.”

She turned down a logging path, deeper into the forest.

–––––

Sam:

That gun was sounding a lot like the Colt and the demons…well that sounded like an interesting little curse. He’d always thought his family had it bad, and he wasn’t going to even begin comparing that because when it came right down to it both situations sucked pretty bad.

“Hey not wishing one of these uh revenants on you or anything but hell yeah I’d like to see that one day,” he said grinning over at her. “My brother and I, we mostly track across the states hunting things like demons and other monsters. We have a gun that kills them too, Samuel Colt’s gun. It doesn’t open up the ground and pull them down in to Hell though. Just sort of makes them glow in their vessels before they’re just…gone.”

He shouldn’t have even been talking to her about it and Dean would be giving him one of those looks if he heard him but it was fine. She seemed like good people.

“We’ve not used it in sometime now though, bigger fish and all that,” he added shrugging. Those were easier times back then, even he could admit that. Now monsters were complicated, more so than yellow eyes ever had been.

“You’re the heir then?” he asked arching a brow at her.

–––––

Wynonna:

“I am indeed the heir.” Wynonna waggled her eyebrows. “And I guess I’ve been doing the same, last little while. See,” she said, conspiratorially, “I recently found something out about myself – I don’t like bein’ used. All very nice to be given a badge, but when the government doesn’t tell me jack and just points me where they want me I get a mite tetchy. Or make that a lot tetchy. I’m on my own, though. Got a sister back home, like the Wikipedia of monster crap – genius, speaks a bunch of languages I don’t even know the name of. But I wouldn’t drag her on the road with me. She’s home promising people she hasn’t seen me and figuring out where I should go next.”

Wynonna missed her so much it was like a stone in her throat.

“One of the best things about being a woman is the way men routinely underestimate you. And she’s just so damn small and cute, everyone underestimates her.” She gave Sam a sly grin. “This’ll do.”

Deforestation had been effectively stopped here six months back, and wasn’t likely to start up again anytime soon. “Long as there are no enterprising dogs, and we don’t give up digging too quickly this’ll work out just fine. We’ll be sipping margaritas poolside in a couple of hours.”

She parked the truck – fuck, she missed the motorbike, but she’d head back and retrieve it soon as she could – and stepped down and out, climbing into the back to fetch the shovels.

“Don’t get all delicate on me,” she said, seriously. “If you get hot and need to lose the shirt, there’s no judgment here.”

–––––

Sam:

Sam shouldn’t have been envious, not after so long of being a hunter, but there was a spark of jealousy down deep inside of him when she talked about her sister. That was what he wanted out of life back when he was a teenager. He’d wanted the safety, for Dean to tell him it was ok to not be a part of this life on the road and that whatever research he could help them with was enough. He’d never gotten that though and instead he’d spent his life on the road, partaking in the family business. It was a stark difference to what Wynonna had going on in her life with her sister and Sam wondered how long it would last and if it even could.

Pulling himself from the truck he took a shovel and gave Wynonna the same half exasperated glare that he’d give Dean for making a comment like that towards him or someone else. Shaking his head he set to work digging.

“So you and her, your sister, been doing this long?” he asked curious about the little life the pair of them had together. Was it the curse on their family that made them start hunting or had they put it off as long as they could like he had? Had either one of them tried to get out before this life had sucked them right back in to it? Sam wanted to know, it wasn’t often that he met people so similar to him and Dean.

–––––

Wynonna:

Digging holes was always fun. Well, they didn’t need to be pretty, just deep enough so nothing would start dragging body parts back up to the road.

“Well,” she said, between loads of dirt, “depends what you mean. Our daddy was the heir before me, and when we were kids… well, we knew. He told us the truth. And then one day they came for him, and my older sister…”

Okay, enough of that.

“Anyway, there was no heir, for a while, then. Now, me, I would have raised arms or something, but I was real busy. Bein’ in juvie. Several times. And then jail.” She leaned on the shovel for a moment. She really had wasted a lot of time behind bars for one thing or another. Probably better to avoid that for the foreseeable future. Wyoming had a three strikes law.

“Waverly, though,” she said. Still in awe. “She wanted to break the curse. Did college by correspondence, learned everything she could. So Wav… guess you could say she’s been in it a long time. But me, I turned twenty-seven almost a year ago, came into my inheritance that day, and that’s about the size of that.”

Monsters.

“Fought an Amazon or two in jail, if it counts.”

It was getting darker by the minute. Wynonna found a lantern and set it by the side of the hole.

“Next time, I’m thinkin’ dumpster. Do they really deserve a decent burial?” She took a long pull off a canteen and passed it to Sam. “Bet McDonalds wouldn’t be above using monster meat.”

–––––

Sam:

Hearing Wynonna talk about growing up in the life made a few pieces click in to place for Sam. That right there was why he clicked with her, maybe even why he was drawn to her, she knewthe life and not just from a year or two of being in it. She was young but she’d always known what was out there and was probably just as jaded as he’d been at twenty-seven.

“I didn’t think it was about giving them a burial but rather about the local kids not finding them,” he said flashing her a grin as he looked up from his digging position. “You’ll get used to it after a while, the digging I mean. Well the monsters too actually…it all becomes easier.”

It shouldn’t be easier though—Sam always thought that whenever he told someone. Killing things, burying things, covering your tracks and avoiding the law should never get easier but it did and he was a walking testament to that.

“My brother and I grew up in this all too,” he explained around spurts of digging. “A demon got our mom when I was little, only six months. Dad started hunting it, looking for revenge so Dean and I grew up knowing all this stuff was the real deal. They tried to keep it from me for a while but eventually Dean caved and let me know. I got out for a while, did a few years of school…pre-law, but got sucked back in to this.”

Everyone always got sucked back in, that’s the one thing about this life Sam knew for sure. Maybe Wynonna and her sister had a chance though, maybe if they broke the family curse they’d be free and could walk away.

“You uh, you ever wonder why your parents had kids and kept the family curse going? I just always thought you know if I was cursed and it was an inheritance type deal I’d probably just not have kids or something,” he mused thinking more out loud than anything else. Standing up he tossed the shovel aside and surveyed the hole. “I think we’re deep enough.”

–––––

Wynonna:

Well, that sucked. Losing a mother before he really knew he had one? Wynonna shook her head. She could sort of picture it, really, their daddy, his quest for revenge. Undoubtedly more to the story and Wynonna was definitely nosy enough to ask, but maybe when she’d known the guy more than four hours. She wanted to know… had revenge worked? Or did he still feel empty?

“Well, if you’re gonna escape for a bit, college sounds better than prison.” Or a psychiatric hospital, not that Wynonna exactly opened with that when she met someone new. Better they decide she was nuts all by themselves. “I’d ask if you’re sorry you got dragged back – but what could you really say to that? Hard to walk away when you know what goes bump in the night.”

She stopped digging for a moment and leaned on the shovel.

It was a question she’d asked herself before.

“I don’t know. On the one hand, I think fuck demons, you know, gotta live your life the way you want to live it for them, it meant three daughters. And on the other hand, I don’t know how anyone can bring kids into a world where when a kid says there’s something under the bed you get your shotgun and check for ’em. I’d ask daddy what he was thinking but he’s been a long time dead.”

She tossed the shovel aside, and climbed up onto the back of the truck.

“Not me, though. I wanna screw something up one day I’ll get a dog.” She looked through their pockets – jackpot! All three had wallets, and one had a few hundred bucks in cash that smelled like stale beer. Poker winnings. “Dinner’s on me, soon as we’re done. You ready?”

She half dragged and half rolled the first body towards Sam, ready to be tossed into the hole. Really was a pity he’d kept the shirt on.

–––––

Sam:

There was a memory in Sam’s mind of being momentarily afraid of things under his bed, when he’d asked dad about them he’d been told he was smart to be afraid of the dark places because he knew what lurked there. It had been a defining moment that had always stood out in his memories in later years like right now. He didn’t think he could ever bring a kid in to that, worry about his fucked up past putting them in trouble. Dean had tried it, once upon a time, when he’d settled down with Ben and Lisa. The job had come calling and before they knew it Lisa and Ben were put in harm’s way and that was always going to be the case.

Grabbing the body he finished rolling it off the tailgate and in to the grave followed by the next one.

“I always wanted a dog,” he laughed and took hold of the second vampire pulling it into the grave as well. “Dean won’t let me have one, says it would be too complicated having it on the road with us.” Though he hadn’t asked since they’d moved in to the Bunker, maybe he would just get one now and Dean would just have to deal with it.

“I’ll take you up on that dinner offer,” he added grinning as he dumped the last body and climbed over them to begin piling dirt on top of them. “You know anywhere good around here? I’ve not been in town long enough to know what’s good, not unless you want bar food.”

–––––

Wynonna:

“Is there any other kind of food?” Wynonna asked, guilelessly. “Suits me fine. And no, only got in yesterday, on a tip. All I’ve eaten is beef jerky and a meatball sub and I’m starving.”

It didn’t take as long the fill the hole as it had to dig it, but by the time they were done they were both filthy and covered with sweat; and it was dark. Completely dark.

“Let’s go,” Wynonna said, throwing the shovels back into the lock box on the back of the truck. There was some blood, not much. She’d clean it up at the car wash the next day. Looked no worse than if she’d been carrying roadkill anyway.

She had to agree that a life on the road didn’t sound great for a dog, not that they ever looked exactly unhappy sticking their big dumb heads out the window. “Too much responsibility for me, right now,” she said. “No idea how the next couple of years might pan out. The revenants…”

She opened the cab and climbed into the truck, waiting for Sam to join her before she moved on.

“They were limited to Purgatory. That’s the one in Wyoming, not the hell-adjacent one. But thanks to a spell the old limits are gone. And they hit the road. I have a list. Be nice if I didn’t keep getting sidetracked by other monsters.”

They drove back into town, and as they were approaching the place where they’d met, Wynonna spoke again.

“Figure this is where you left your car. My motel’s about six blocks that way and one north, big old palm tree in neon lights out the front. You can’t miss it. There’s a bar around the corner from there does a burger the size of your head. Or my head, at least. Meet you there in an hour?”

–––––

Sam:

Getting sidetracked by other monsters was a part of the job, sad to say but that was the truth. It’d taken dad so long to find Yellow Eyes because of everything else that kept getting in the damn way. The hell of it was that you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop because as a hunter you knew every kill you made saved someone else from going through the same heartache you went through. He wished he could tell Wynonna that it got better and that he revenge would eventually get done but depending on how long a list she had—well he wasn’t going to make a promise like that.

“I’ll meet you there,” he flashed her a smile and got out heading over to the truck he’d hijacked for checking out the town. Pulling out his phone he fired Dean a text to see where he was before making his way back to the motel to clean up.

With the vampires taken care of they could both relax a little…which for Dean would mean heading out to get laid and yeah so Sam was a little guilty of not sharing that the other hunter that had helped him was totally Dean’s type. It wasn’t his fault though that Dean had just assumed that when he’d said he’d bumped into another hunter he’d meant some bristly guy like them.

An hour later Sam found himself nice and cleaned up and waiting outside of the bar for Wynonna to show up and glad that Dean hadn’t decided to take an early night in and question him on where he was going out.

“Hey,” he greeted walking over to her truck to open the door for her.

–––––

Wynonna:

Wynonna showered, took an extra twenty seconds to shave her legs, just in case, and dressed in the last clean clothing she had. It was really time to slow down and do some laundry. Still, she thought, as she checked her reflection, at least nothing she owned was going to make her look like less than a badass monster fighting girl.

In a tank top, she was flashing the new tattoo. Still wasn’t sick of looking at the thing, he funny little nod to old Wyatt, one no one would ever recognize. She pulled a leather jacket over the top, and was out the door.

She’d driven the two blocks to the bar before she realized how ridiculous it was not to have walked. Didn’t matter, if she got stupid she could walk back, take the truck in the morning; she probably needed to move on, anyway, had a lead a day’s drive away. Didn’t sound like a particularly good lead, but she couldn’t really dismiss anything.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” she said, stepping out of the truck and spending a good half minute wrangling the lock. Lucky this part of the country was lax on their gun laws, because she never left the peacemaker anywhere. With it settled against her hip, she gave Sam a wonky smile, and followed towards the bar.

“Still getting a buzz from this,” she said. “Guess it wears off eventually, but not yet.” First instinct sent her to the bar, but she wanted to talk about things that might get them arrested or thrown in a loony bin and quite possibly tempt Sam into a game of footsies later on, so she pointed to a booth in the back.

“Couple of beers,” she said, knocking on the bar on the way past and indicating where they were headed. Wynonna was still too paranoid to sit with her back to the door, so she dropped into the far side. “Not a bad day’s work. Where’s this brother of yours?”

–––––

Sam:

There was a moment of hesitation just at the booth when Wynonna took the seat facing the door. In a normal situation he’d have Dean here and his brother always took that seat, years growing up on the road as the baby brother had always dictated that Dean take the lookout seat and handing it over to Wynonna took Sam a second to adjust to. He knew he could count on Dean and he knew he could trust his own instincts when surveying a room full of people…he didn’t know if he could do that with Wynonna but what choice was he left with? Sit beside her awkwardly or bring it up?

Realizing he was still standing a second too long he took the seat across from her and ran his hand back through his hair offering a shy awkward smile over his own goofiness.

“Yeah, not bad… um he’s out, he doesn’t exactly get on well with other hunters,” he shrugged his shoulders and forced himself to relax a bit. On the contrary Dean loved swapping stories with other hunters but he’d been in a ‘get laid’ mood and Sam hadn’t felt like watching him flirt with Wynonna all night long. Selfish? Maybe just a little but he knew Dean was hot and when it came to girls he always won.

“So were these your first vampires? I mean you’ve mentioned hunting, Revenants was it? You just seemed to handle yourself pretty well with them. I’ve seen a few newer hunters get a little freaked over new things,” he asked.

–––––

Wynonna:

Hmph. Didn’t trust other hunters. Yeah, Wynonna had already heard that more than once; and more than once it had been followed up by ‘but I might make an exception for you, missy’, with a good long look at Wynonna’s rack thrown in for free. Turned out, though, no matter how tough a hunter was, hitting them open-fisted across the ear made them fall over and sob for their mommas. She wasn’t looking to hurt anyone; they were all on the same side, after all.

Also, now she thought about it – this was definitely a sign she was raising her standards! Wowee, Waverley was gonna be proud.

“No bother,” she said. “Must be nice to have someone on the road with you, though. Missing Waverley lately.” She shrugged. Wav was safe. That was all that mattered.

“Do I look new to you?” Wynonna deadpanned. “Those weren’t my first vampires. I’ve been killin’ vampires since…” she thought back. “Tuesday last week. Damnedest thing. Shot one on the head on account of it had fangs that looked live a revenant’s. It went down, and then came up snarling like a possum. Cheeseburger,” she said. “No onions. With bacon.” Wynonna needed to refuel, but badly. “Thanks.” The waitress looked bored, barely met Wynonna’s eyes as she scribbled down the order, and it made Wynonna think of Waverley again, her quick mind working over things even when she was being worn down by assholes who stiffed her on tips and tried to grab her ass.

“So tell me, Sam Winchester, since it turns out I’ve got an errand in Tennessee and the woods are full of werewolves – silver bullet. True or false? I should be taking notes in case my tenth beer knocks it all out of my head.”

–––––

Sam:

If what she said was true then she picked up on things really fast. That was par for the course in this life though, you either picked up how to kill something fast or you got dead yourself. That’s just how it was, how it had to be. There wasn’t room for a learning curve here, not when you were a hunter. How many time had he and Dean learned that the hard way back when they’d been young and on hunts for the first time?

Countless.

Placing an order for a burger (extra cheese, no onions) and a side of fries Sam watched the waitress head off before letting his attention drift back to Wynonna.

“Yeah, silver will do it,” he said nodding. “Silver also takes care of skinwalkers—they’re these nasty things that can take the shape of any human they want on a whim. Iron for ghosts, salt works on them and demons. If it’s got a bit of substantial lore you it you can pretty much count on it being true actually. There are some exceptions but not many.”

“Vampire’s and demon’s the only thing you’ve run in to so far?” he asked.

–––––

Wynonna:

Wynonna watched Sam watch the waitress saunter off – it figured he’d like a woman with a little more curve to her. She forcibly prevented an eye roll and reached for her beer.

“Skinwalkers? Like shapeshifters? Gross,” she said, curling up her lip. “You know, I went to school with a girl called Mary-Beth, and if you think you could survive being called Mary-Beth your whole life, then picture this; her legacy was her momma’s beauty parlor.” And in all honesty it sounded like a fate worse than death, to Wynonna. But peaceful. So peaceful.

She pulled a coaster towards her and flipped it over. Pen, pen… she excused herself to the bar and came back ready to take a couple of notes. “Iron. Fireplace poker’d work great for that… salt?” A couple of bags of road salt in the back of the truck wouldn’t be the worst idea. And packing salt rounds wouldn’t be hard…

“So far,” she said. “Met a couple of hunters, they sure like to brag, for the most part…” Present company pretty much excluded, since he was actually asking her questions. And she didn’t bother mentioning that they’d all tried to get in her pants – or that at almost any other point in her life it would have worked. “I’m getting’ there’s more than one type of demon, though. I only know revenants. Glowing eyes, ‘don’t mess with me’ voices I just love cutting short with ol’ Peacemaker here. Once upon a time this job would have been a hell of a lot easier – they couldn’t leave Purgatory. Now, thanks to the skankiest witch you’ve ever hoped to meet, they can roam as they please. And I don’t even know quite how many there are.” She hovered over the coaster with the pen.

“Your daddy. Your brother. Did you find peace? When you got your revenge?”

Blunt. Maybe invasive. But she had to know.

–––––

Sam:

It took Sam a second (or ten) to realize what she was getting at with the whole Mary-Beth story but once he did he let out a soft laugh. Once upon a time in a life that was no longer his and Dean’s their legacy might just have been the garage John had opened with a friend back in Lawrence. They’d seen it once, back when they’d headed through town because his visions had lead them there. The place still seemed to be drawing in business. Sam wondered if he still would have been as unhappy with ‘the family business’ if it had been a garage instead of hunting. Something told him he would have been, cars had always been dad and Dean’s thing.

“Yeah, yeah we’re a bragging bunch,” he has the decency to look sheepish over it as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Sort of comes with the territory I think.”

Not that he ever had anything to prove to anyone these days, he was Sam Winchester and the Winchester name had always carried a certain respect to it thanks to John. Even now people knew the stuff he and Dean had done and most respected it—though to be fair most people didn’t know half the messes they cleaned up were usually of their own making in some way or another.

“Yeah I mean I guess there are,” he sighed thinking about her first question about demon types not wanting to think about the whole revenge and peace thing just yet. “There’s crossroad demons, you can tell them by their red eyes when the go all demon on you. Then there’s just lower class ones I guess…or maybe they’re just regular demons now…it’s hard to keep up with all the changing around in Hell. Anyways, they’ve got black eyes.”

Knights of Hell—Sam didn’t feel like touching on that anymore than he felt like touching on the general lack of peace he felt with his own revenge. It didn’t bring mom back, it didn’t bring Jess back. It felt good for two seconds, like it was done and over with, but then the need to get back to work settled deep inside his bones. There was always a job, always someone who needed their help, life just went on.

“No—not really,” he sighed and stared down at his own hands remembering that day so many years ago when Dean had finally put a bullet through ol yellow eyes. He hadn’t felt any different afterwards and he certainly hadn’t felt any different either when he’d killed Brady or when he’d finally locked Lucifer in the cage and was free of it. “It doesn’t change anything. It didn’t fix anything. Didn’t bring them back—revenge is always empty Wynonna.”

–––––

Wynonna:

“I didn’t mean you,” Wynonna said, with a little half smile. “I’m talking about the assholes wearing vampire fang necklaces and carryin’ a tape measure in their pants for convenience’ sake.” Sam, by contrast, seemed a little understated, despite his ridiculous size. Or maybe because of it.

It really didn’t do anything to promote an air of tranquility when Sam started rattling off lists of demons. Crossroads? Who’d be dumb enough to sell their soul? “Really, if you found a crossroads demon, that would mean the whole Heaven-slash-Hell bit was real, and then you’d be kind of a chump to go through with it,” she said. Not all that interested in saving people from their own stupidity. Besides, she had a real job to do.

She sort of wished she hadn’t asked. About revenge. She supposed she knew the answer.

“When I was a kid, a bunch of revenants broke into my family home,” she said. “Took my little sister. Killed my dad.” That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close as she could come. “Seven of them. First thing I did when I became the heir, when I got old Peacemaker here…” She tapped her hip. “I went after the seven. Wasn’t easy and it wasn’t fun but when the last one was down, I thought I’d feel something. But Willa was still gone. Dad was still gone. And there were still dozens of the things to put down.”

She sipped at her beer. Novel in itself – usually she’d chug it and call for another. The whole supernatural destiny thing was messing with her whole personality. She should have been sitting in Sam’s lap by now, suggesting they get back to the motel. Instead, she was making notes about killing things on the back of a bar coaster, and fantasizing about killing the next monster she found.

The thought prickled her eyes, and she blinked hard.

“So were the hell does a girl get silver bullets?” she asked. “Because last time I checked, K-Mart didn’t stock ’em.”

–––––

Sam:

There was so much Sam wanted to tell her, so many opinions he wanted to give. He knew crossroads were some of the worst deals but he also knew that sometimes people were tricked in to making them and sometimes people did it thinking it was for the good of someone else. He wanted to tell her that and explain some of the people he and Dean had come across in their years of doing this. He wanted to assure he that sometimes things were a gray area and you had to make the call in the heat of the moment and that sometimes (most times) it wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t just the crossroads either but Heaven and Hell.

Those were topics Sam loved to talk about, mostly because Hell brought of questions and memories of Lucifer that he’d rather keep locked down inside of himself. Still she deserved to know what he did about it all, even if it meant having to shatter that part of her world.

Instead of saying anything he listened to her talk about revenge for a moment and nodded. He knew that feeling, he was just sorry she had to feel it too. He wondered if it would have been different for him and Dean if killing yellow eyes had been the end of it. If there hadn’t been Hell and the apocalypse and everything else they’d dealt with…the same for Wynonna. If there weren’t more demons for her to hunt would it have felt different?

“You know after we killed Yellow Eyes, the one that killed our mom there was just more and more, it’s like it never stopped coming at us,” he said softly before taking a sip of his own beer glad for it. He wasn’t usually this open about this stuff and he needed to shut his mouth.

Clearing his throat he leaned back in his seat.

“I can give you some names,” he said nodding. “Some contacts of traders and what not. They’re all good people, most own little side shops or bars. They’ll get you what you need in the way of ammo. You know how to do fake IDs and badges? They come in handy too.”

–––––

Wynonna:

“Sam, I think you really need to know that you have one of the most expressive faces I’ve ever seen,” Wynonna said, crossing her arms in front of her. “I have no idea what you were just thinkin’, but you did a lot of it. Some of it has to have been terrible, because for a second there you looked so sad I thought someone shot your dog.”

And it wasn’t her business, but that didn’t make her any less curious. She sighed.

“I knew killing the Seven wouldn’t be the end of it, but I think… I thought… that killin’ the rest of the revenants would be. And now I’ve been on the road a few weeks, and apparently I’m a monster magnet, and I can already see it’s never gonna stop. There’s always gonna be more to hunt.”

She paused a moment as the food was delivered, and gave the waitress a look that said if she was planning to hit on any of her customers tonight she should really look elsewhere. And then a sweet smile. “Thanks for that.”

She picked at a couple of fries.

“Names are good. Numbers are good. I’m a fan of both. Bullets, explosives, I like ’em all.” But fake IDs and badges? “And that might be a good idea. Kind of annoying that I have a real badge, and no one has a clue what it’s for,” she said, fishing it out of her pocket. “Plus if anyone checks up on me I’ll probably have the feds all over my ass like I’m a damn thanksgiving chicken. You know, a few months ago, I was lying on a beach in Greece?” She shook her head. “I thought I was out. I thought I’d escaped the family curse and I was just going to have a nice, normal life. Talk to me about fake IDs some more. Meow.”

–––––

Sam:

“Sorry,” he mumbled and ducked his head as the food was brought out. He knew he was expressive, it was something in his eyes or something, he’d been told that before and just never bothered to fix it since he didn’t see it as a flaw. Hell half the time it was the only way to get Dean to really talk to him, didn’t mean he was going to tell Wynonna what had been on his mind.

“Yeah no, I don’t think you ever get out,” he said shaking his head. “I thought I had too, back when I left the life for a bit to start collage. I wanted to be a lawyer, had a full ride for pre-law at Stanford with an interview lined up for a full ride for actual law school. Then I got pulled back in and it’s been—it’s been non-stop for the last eleven years.”

That still seemed like a life time ago and was sometimes hard to wrap his mind around even now.

“Ok well badges are great for keeping local law from asking too many questions,” he said reaching out to take her badge giving a look over before handing it back. “Dean and I are pretty good at making them, I’ll set you up with a whole set. You’ll have to judge each situation for what you think will be best, you know CDC, FBI or whatever.”

–––––

Wynonna:

Still at. Even all tough and mumbly there was something kinda sweet under it all. Which Wynonna had to stop wondering about.

“School, huh? Yeah, I… that was never really my… I mean, I got my GED.” She thought hard for a moment. It was possible she’d never seen a certificate. “I missed too much school, between juvie and…” She wasn’t going to say the psych ward. “And then I didn’t quite pass, on account of… I didn’t go much.”

Way to sound like a complete dunce, Wynonna Earp. Well done. Wynonna never blushed, but she felt a rush of embarrassment.

“Waverly, though – she did a four-year degree by correspondence, on the occult and ancient languages, just to find a way to break the family curse. Smart girl.”

Wynonna knew she wasn’t dumb. Studying held about as much appeal as electro-shock therapy had, but she wasn’t dumb. It was just hard to care much, hard to summon up the energy to give a shit when she knew everyone who looked at her just saw the crazy girl who killed her own father.

Anyway. Back to the present. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Well, Sam, that sounds great, but all I know about the FBI is what I learned from movies. Isn’t just punching your way into something and sort of… stabbing your way back out more… practical? Wait, no, CDC’s the one they call after an outbreak monkey shows up in the backyard.” She paused. “Actually, that could be helpful.”

–––––

Sam:

“I thought that too,” he grinned when she mentioned it being easier just to fight her way in to a place. “When I got back from Stanford to hunting again and Dean had all these fake badges and stuff I was pissed. I don’t know, I had their weird respect the badge kind of thing going on or something but you know they don’t get it, half the time they’re already in too deep and don’t know how to work the case until we come along.”

Dean pulling fake badges saved them in a lot of cases too over the years.

“Besides, if you don’t know what you’re hunting and need information you can’t fight your way in to a morgue, that would be—” The word barbaric was on the tip of his tongue but he stopped short realizing how much he sounded like a typical Men of Letter’s, Dean would have had a good laugh over that. “It’s just not feasible or safe. Trust me, most of the time local cops won’t even question it so long as you walk in flash a badge and look like you know what you’re doing. If anyone ever gives you shit just tell them you’re calling your supervisor and put them on the phone with me, you’ll be fine.”

This stuff would come in handy for her one day.

“Look just trust me ok,” he grinned.

–––––

Wynonna:

Wynonna raised her eyebrows slowly, and leaned across the table. “Was all of this a ruse? So we could swap numbers?” She laughed to herself, nose wrinkling, and pushed her phone across the table. “Go ahead, Special Agent in Charge Sam Winchester. Better make me sound terrifying and badass if someone rings you.” And for the record, she didn’t want to do a lot of fighting her way into morgues. Or out of them, for that matter. Morgues gave her the heebie-jeebies.

Trust me. Weird thing was; Wynonna did trust him. Considering the only person Wynonna trusted completely was Waverley – Doc and Dolls were two days out of three, at best – this was a strange situation to be in. And probably a bad move. Still. She didn’t need to tell him that, and didn’t plan to.

“Thanks for this. Truth is my real name isn’t gonna open a lot of doors, except to jail. And I’d rather not go back, if I can avoid it. I bet there’s more than a handful of warrants out on you and your brother. Seems it’s impossible to hunt without breaking the law.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse that people don’t know… I mean. The people back home, they were blissfully ignorant until a few months ago; now, they’re just mad as hell and blaming me for the fact that the town is overrun with undead assholes.”

She shrugged, and wiped condensation off the side of her glass, before reaching for the key around her neck like it was a talisman. It was getting warm; she took off her jacket and tossed it aside, pushing her sleeves up, revealing more than a handful of scars and the tattoo she’d gotten as soon as she was out of juvie, of a symbol that used to show up on Wyatt’s stationery.

Food. She’d been ravenous; but her appetite seemed to have drained away, a bit. Still, she took the burger in both hands, determined to get through it.

“So where to next?”

–––––

Sam:

Taking her phone Sam grinned at her comment and started to put in his number for her, a part of him hoping that she would call or text just for the hell of it and not only when she needed something. There was something about her that he was really enjoying being around.

“There,” he pushed it back to her and nodded. “Yeah, yeah we might have a handful of warrants out for us. We were the focus of a large man hunt for a while, some of the FBI’s most wanted and all that. Uh, it’s a long story. Ended up getting the poor guy killed in the end, I still feel bad for that. Then a few years later there was this thing with some leviathans, they stole our faces and went on a murder spree—basically if you hear anything about Sam and Dean Winchester that’s not hunting related do me a favor and don’t believe it, chances are it wasn’t really us.”

Having to take on that warning to meeting people was more than a little ridiculous but necessary after this many years in the game. Watching her take her jacket off he frowned when he saw the marking on her wrist, eyebrow arching in interest as he took a bit of his burger.

Swallowing he gestured to her arm.

“That marking, the tattoo on your arm…why’d you get that?” It wasn’t the classiest way to ask but his heart was racing at seeing the men of letters symbol on Wynonna, his brain working overtime to try to make a connection and understand.

–––––

Wynonna:

Wynonna stared at Sam for a good long while, and then snorted. “Alright, I’ll try to keep that in mind,” she said, still snickering. “FBI’s most wanted. I feel vicariously famous.” Leviathans. “Admittedly it’s been a long time since I so much as set foot in a church, but I’m pretty sure those were sea monsters. Reckon they’d stand out in plaid. And I don’t think they could pull off your hair.” She waved it off; most of what she thought she knew about everything, with the exception of her very good friends the revenants, had been wrong so far, so why not leviathans?

She glanced at the tattoo again, and shrugged. “No, it’s definitely a tattoo. Fading because I got it done cheap and nasty and I’m probably lucky I didn’t pick up an infection and lose my arm, but it’s a tattoo. I should get it touched up.”

She put her arm across the table so he could get a better look. If she flexed her fingers, she’d touch his stomach.

“My great great grand-daddy, Wyatt Earp – I’ll say it again, greatest lawman this country’s ever seen… by his own reckoning, anyway – once the problem with the revenants started up he started putting out feelers to people who might know a thing or two about the supernatural. Most of them ignored him, but he struck up with this group called the Men of Letters.” She nodded at the tattoo. “That’s the Aquarian star. Inside the double circle like that it’s their symbol. It never went far.” She pulled her arm back, and crossed both on the table. “Bunch of blowhards. My sister thinks they either died or disbanded in the fifties. Why, y’seen it somewhere before?”

–––––

Sam:

Blowhards, disbanded in the fifties, dead—Sam’s mind was reeling.

It had been one thing when he’d met Eileen and she’d ended up being a legacy too but for Wynonna to be one (or at the very least know about the MOL) was crazy. It was the sort of thing he wouldn’t have even guessed but it made sense.

“Um yeah, yeah I’ve seen it associated with the Men of Letters actually,” he said shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean I know it’s insane and you’re not going to believe it but I am a Men of Letters, me and Dean both. We’re Legacies, our Granddad was a part of them.”

It was just the three of them but now Wynonna could be as well and it was awesome.

“Did he join them? I mean I’ll probably have to look through our records and find out but anything you know could help me find the information. Do you know what year he got in contact with them?” he asked more than a little excited over the whole idea of this all.

–––––

Wynonna:

This was the sort of thing which could generally send Wynonna off to the bathroom, climbing out a window and running for the next week. She turned her wrist so she could see the tattoo again; she hadn’t even really understood, when she’d gotten it, what all of this really meant, not really. It was like a family adventure, despite the inevitable fact of her father’s death, and (presumably) Willa’s.

She tried to calculate the odds of Sam having been sent to fish her out of the world, get her comfortable, and then… what?

Despite general distrust, she liked Sam, even, maybe, trusted him. So where did that leave her?

“Your grandad?” She did the math. Obviously, Wyatt was older. It had never occurred to her, though, that they might have survived. The group. Or that it might have any relevance to her, to Wav.

It had been so long since she’d confided in anyone. She nodded, mostly to herself.

“He joined. I don’t remember the whole story. They were small potatoes, here, bigger in Europe; Wav knows more than I do. Wyatt’s journal was patchy, but I don’t think they liked him, much. Someone called him a barbarian. Which…” She shrugged; if he was a barbarian, she was no better, solving most of her problems with Peacemaker and the rest with alcohol. “I don’t know the dates.” How embarrassing. She needed to leave the braining to Waverley. “But he died in June ’29 and they were already not on great terms.” She narrowed her eyes. “What does this mean? The hell is a legacy?”

–––––

Sam:

Sam’s mind was still reeling and trying to catch up with everything, sort out dates and important information. The Bunker wasn’t finished until 35 so he wasn’t shocked that he didn’t recognize Wyatt’s name. Most of their records didn’t pick up until after the completion. Sam figured everything before then was handled by the main branch overseas.

“Um Legacy, it means out Grandfather was a part of them and our dad was supposed to be too and then us. We were raised as hunters though, some stuff happened back in the day and Henry Winchester, out grandpa, he was killed so dad never knew about the Men of Letter’s. We only found out within the past three years or so. They were building a Bunker, it wasn’t complete until ’35 though so I doubt I have records on your family but whatever your sister knows I’ll be happy to compile into a file.”

Maybe he was a little too enthusiastic about this but the Men of Letter’s could still be something today. They could pull together hunters like himself, Dean, Eileen and now Wynonna and her sister. They could be a positive force for hunters and then maybe so many of them wouldn’t have to die because they’d have the right weapons and information.

“Look I know this is crazy but I’m just—I didn’t think I’d find anyone else who knew about the Men of Letter’s, it’s pretty exciting,” he said grinning.”

–––––

Wynonna:

It sounded too good to be true, but then, maybe she had earned a break. Files… that sounded like it had serious potential. Wynonna felt her heart begin to race, and she leaned in.

“We need to break this curse. We need to find something that will send these bastards back to hell where they belong and never let them come back. Because I’m sure as shit not planning to have kids and my sister…” she thought a moment. “Well, if she ever becomes a mom…” For one, somehow Wynonna was pretty sure there would never be a blood heir. But mostly… “I don’t want anyone else to have to deal with this. She’s a genius. If you’ve got books, files, if there’s something that might help us find a solution, I need to see it, Sam.”

Maybe this was fate. Maybe the reason she hadn’t climbed on Sam’s lap was because there was something more important to do.

She took a breath.

“So, if Wyatt was a Man of Letters, and so was your grand-daddy, and you’re a legacy, then yeah, guess I am, too. Sam. I need to see this place. Where is it?”

She sounded like a stalker.

“I gotta admit, yeah, I’m excited too. Maybe not for exactly the same reasons, but… well, Sam Winchester, I’m very glad we met.” Maybe she’d climb in his lap next time. Those arms. She wished Waverly was there to admire her restraint. She smiled. “About time something good happened to me.”

She figured he could take it however he liked.

–––––

Sam:

Keeping the Bunker to themselves had never been an option, not after they’re started to find other people with the potential of being Legacies. It might be their home but if there was something he could do that would help Wynonna and her sister end this course, who were him and Dean to withhold that? They’d been in this sort of position before, needing information and not having access to it. He would help the best he could and he would get Dean on bored with it too.

“It’s in Lebanon,” he answered, not even hesitating or concerned about telling her. “It’s pretty hard to find but yeah, when you get there just call or I mean—you could come with now. I can call Dean and tell him we’ve gotta head home in the morning. It’s whatever you want but I’m sure we have something there that could help.”

Just because he hadn’t read up on these things yet didn’t mean that they didn’t have info stashed away somewhere on them.

“It’s out home so you’ll have to deal with Dean and I being there but there’s plenty of space for you and your sister to set up home base for a bit until we comb through everything, I don’t see it being an issue,” he explained, enthusiastic over getting to have her around for a while longer in his life.

–––––

Wynonna:

“Lebanon. Kansas? Near the… middle.” There was a spot near there; somewhere in dimmest memory Wynonna had filed away a moment, a road trip, her and some guy, drunk, leaning against the marker for the center of the forty-eight states, someone else taking a photo.

Not the time to think about it.

“Now sounds good to me,” she said. They were both on their first beers. Not drunk, which, hi, novelty. “I’m really not married to the motel room. There are shades of green which just don’t work on me, and that décor managed to use them all.”

This was definitely going to cut down on the likelihood of Wynonna ending up in Sam’s lap. Two cars. She couldn’t even talk him into the back seat. Couldn’t have planned it better (… though she really, really wanted to talk him into the back seat. That Impala. Nice).

Wynonna grabbed her wallet to count out a little cash, and the phone rang.

“There’s the genius now,” she said. An hour ago, Wynonna had been exhausted. Now she was energized. “Hey, sis,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Wynonna literally felt the blood drain from her face, listening to what had been happening. She rested her head on her hand, elbow on the table.

“I’ll be there,” she said. “Two days at the most. I’m hitting the road now. I’m sorry.”

All she could really say.

“Or maybe not now,” she said, to Sam. “Someone came after Wav. I’m sorry, Sam, I gotta go. I shoulda known she wasn’t gonna be safe on her own…” She rubbed her forehead.

“I’ll call you,” she promised.

Wynonna scooted out of the booth, grabbing her things, knees objecting to the lightness in her head. She had just past the edge of the booth when she stopped, and turned, and came back again.

On impulse, she reached out, caught Sam’s jaw in her hand, and kissed him. Just a peck. A promise, she supposed.

“I’ll call you,” she said again. And she was gone.

~ complete ~

#wynonna rp #v: out of purgatory #p: well hello #thexboyxking #all of us; & queue

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