#i wish everyone could see that thirty chapter fanfic in my head that led up to this

[skyland2703]

Write an ending without a beginning and Javelia? Possibly?

I was about to go down the lane of tragedy™️ for this one… and then I decided what better way to write my one true ending for Javelia—

“Feelings are… hard… Ollie.” Amelia smiled ruefully at the boy in blue hoodie, sitting next to her on the airplane seat, holding her hand.

He shrugged, and looked out of the window, a beautiful sunset had colored the sky in blue and pink hues, with a peeking golden in places, and clouds littering the horizon. It looked breathtaking, and if he were in this moment with anybody else— his mind wandered particularly to Aiyon, the Rafkonian loved the sunsets of Earth from the bottom of his heart— he’d have liked to share a kiss. But not here, not with Amelia. It wasn’t the time.

“Feelings are hard, Amelia” he nodded, a smile spreading onto his face.

“When did you know?”

“I’ve known for a while. Even if you’re here with me, you’re talking about Javi, thinking about Javi, or talking to Javi… your heart isn’t even here at all” he almost laughed, and then gently caressed the top of her palm, then looked into the distance, “I don’t blame you either…”

“You’ve been having feelings for someone else too, haven’t you?” Amelia asked, shaking her head, softly. She knew exactly who it was, she knew exactly how these things had happened— she and Javi had grown particularly close during such investigations, itself.

Ollie smiled, good naturedly, “like you said… feelings are hard”

Amelia closed her eyes, and rested her head on the extremely uncomfortable cushion of the airline’s economy class seat, and groaned. They’d decided to take this little “trip” to Hawaii so they could bond over, once again, renew their relationship, but it hadn’t even started, and they were on the verge of breaking apart.

“Did you ever… think of… cheating, Ollie?” The thought had crossed her mind numerous times. She remembered that time she and Javi had almost drunkenly fooled around, and stopped themselves just in time from the thought of Ollie. She wondered if Ollie had ever done something of the sort… that had been her very first doubt, what had caused her to enlist Javi’s help in her relationship, what had landed the two of them at such crossroads— with their best friend.

“I…” he frowned, “I’m not gonna lie, there were moments where it got dangerously close to that… but I never cheated on you, Amelia. I Never would.” He smiled, “even if I don’t love love you, I still love you. And I can never even think of hurting you that way”

She smiled, “I want you to know that I feel the same way, Ollie”

“I know” he smiled, “I just wish we had had thid talk before we got onto this plane… AND booked that honeymoon package.” He laughed.

“Hey” she punched his arm gently, “I’m teleporting back to Javi the second we land— and we’re getting Aiyon TO Hawaii after that. Just cuz we aren’t together anymore, doesn’t mean we can’t be happy” she winked.

“Does that mean it’s an official breakup?”

“It’s an official breakup. And it’s absolutely jot messy at all— Annnnd I’d thought it’d be so much messier….” She chuckled.

“You know… so had I— thank you for being so understanding. I thought you’d be all angry and irrational” be wriggled his eyebrows at her mischievously.

“Well, fuck you”

“Oh Aiyon will—“ his lips twisted in a sly smirk,

“TOO MUCH INFORMATION, AKANA”

…

The flight had been awkward, really, really awkward, in a lot of places, but it was still better than it would’ve been had they not broken up, and continued in their now loveless, and even more awkward relationship. They were better off as friends, and with her stealing her airline issue cashew nuts in the small flight,

The Realisation that she had been in love with Javi for almost as long as she could had hit her repeatedly on her head, every time she thought about Javi— and she wondered why she had continued with Ollie for so long. Why was there a need to hurt the both of them, in the process, why was breaking up such a stigma, if it were this easy…

“Where are you, Javi?” She’d texted Javi as soon as she had gotten off at the Hawaii Airport, and readied to teleport back to where Javi was.

Javi’s reply was prompt, “hey Amm! All good? How was the flight?”

"Where are you"

"Still at the airport"

"Good"

“Wh—“

“Explain later. I’m coming back. Stay there.”

And then she had promptly ignored all texts he had sent her, panicking and asking her why was wrong, if everything was okay, if Ollie was coming back with her or not… Ollie must have texted Aiyon, but she wasn’t sure if Aiyon would tell Javi. They hadn’t particularly revealed anything to Aiyon either, but a part of wondered maybe he would know— maybe both the boys would be able to put two and two together.

She wanted to surprise Javi. She wanted to surprise him so bad. She needed to be in his arms, when she told him that she loved him.

…

Javi had stayed at the airport, sitting on one of the cool metal benches, where he had left Ollie and Amelia to board their flight at. The bright morning sun had faded into a dim glow, bathing the entire lounge in a yellowish-orange tinge, warm, soothing, and Javi's heavy heart told him that he should head back home... the girl he'd been in love with for three years, was long gone, and in another corner of the country, by now, with someone else... and why was he still there?

After the happy couple had boarded the flight, Javi had found himself sinking into one of the chairs, at a loss of words, not knowing what to do, feeling overwhelmed. And he'd sat there that way for who knew how long...

Until Amelia's text had come in... and then he knew exactly why he was still there. The Morphin Grid had set something up. She was coming back... there was something wrong, something that had happened, and she needed him right there.

He closed his eyes, his mind gently cascading over all the memories of him and Amelia together. There was something in the air, a little October chill, a little tinge of the fall, a little bit of warmth.

Then he heard the familiar whirring noise of a teleportation beam. It was distant, but Javi could place exactly what it was for... Amelia was here. She'd teleported to somewhere people wouldn't notice, and she was here... she was right here. His heart felt like it would come up into his throat.

He stood up, as he heard footsteps approaching him. There was a whole cacophony of noises around the world between them, but he knew her footsteps. He knew every rhythm by heart. And then, there she was... Standing in the same red jacket he had bid her goodbye in, a mere few hours ago, sunglasses pushed upwards, over her head.

Their eyes met across the distance, and he saw a blush move up her cheeks, as well as blood rushing into his own. Awkwardly, nervously, he raised a hand to wave at her. Just as awkwardly, she tilted her head, as if to take all of him in her, and keep the vision of him imprinted in her heart and soul.

And then she broke into a run. Javi had barely a second to process what was happening, and to brace himself, when she jumped into his waiting arms, wrapping her own around him, and he, while trying to maintain his balance, lifted her off her feet, and started spinning her around in the air, while still hugging her. He didn't need words to understand what had just happened between them— her expression, her gestures were enough to explain it all.

When he finally put her back onto the ground, he saw tears shining in her eyes, like a kaleidoscope, glittering in the evening glow.

"I love you Javi. I love you so, so much" she said, breathless, waiting for his reply.

"But Ol—"

"He knows." her smile was so wide, it could encompass entire galaxies, "It's you and me, now. You and me forever"

"No ifs and buts?" he asked, gently, her infectious smile was starting to spread onto his face too, and she shook her head, "I'm sorry for all that drama, but no, seriously, I'm all yours, baby. I promise"

He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers for the briefest moment. It was so gentle, so tentative that for a Amelia thought she had only imagined it— but then Javi was kissing her again, harder this time, passionately; her hair reached up into his hair, fingeres grazing through the soft locks, while his reached around to cup her face in his palms, frozen in time, and frozen in the moment... Nothing else mattered, nothing except the fact that they were together, together at last.

"I— I love you too" he croaked, gasping from breath from their kiss, and as they reluctantly broke apart, he placed his forehead against hers, and his fingers gently entangled with hers, "I've loved you from the beginning"

Ao3

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Thirteen: By a Thread

I know how much some of you love the original games, so I hope you enjoyed this one too :) 

If you’re new here, hello - this is a Chishiya x OC/reader fic. You can find the full fanfic, including this chapter on AO3 here.  

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Like always, the hotel lobby was crammed with people. I kept my head low as I moved quietly through the crowds, hoping to avoid the gaze of the militants dotted around. The last thing I wanted was to draw the attention of Niragi and his troupe. When I finally took my slip of paper, I went to stand by a corner before opening it.

Group four.                             

‘Looks like we’re together.’ An arm wrapped around my shoulder and Kuina appeared beside me. ‘It must be luck.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ I said. ‘We could end up with a Hearts game.’ Unconsciously, my eyes roamed the lobby for any sign of white.

‘Yeah, we could. But there’s only a one in four chance of that.’ She leaned in close, and I could practically hear the grin in her voice. ‘Speaking of hearts, he’s not in our group.’

I tensed, causing Kuina to giggle. She must’ve noticed me looking for him, but she’d gotten the wrong idea completely.

‘It’s not what you think,’ I told her, embarrassed. ‘He left some things in my room, kind of like a peace offering. I just wanted to thank him… and maybe apologise for being a brat and refusing to speak to him.’

I hid beneath my hood as Kuina began to slowly steer me through the crowded room. There were several of Niragi’s thugs standing around in their groups, but I hadn’t seen Niragi himself yet.  

‘You can thank him after we win our game,’ Kuina said as we walked outside. Then in a low mutter, she added, ‘you werebeing a brat though.’

‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ I laughed. ‘He was in the wrong too, you know.’

Although I held onto moments like this, there was no covering up the anxiety I felt deep inside. It was an unfamiliar worry, one that had appeared only recently, having crept up on me when I was least expecting it. And Chishiya was at its core. I was wavering between wishing he were in our group, and the relief that he wasn’t. I was glad that he was somewhere else, just in case we actually did run into a Hearts game. But at the same time, I wanted him by my side just to know that he was okay, that he was alive. And the uncertainty would drive me mad.

But overlying all of this, I was terrified of the fact that I felt this way at all.

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

There were only five of us in our group, so the car ride was more comfortable this time. Behind the wheel was an intense woman in her thirties who kept chewing at her lip. In stark contrast, a young woman with long hair tied in a pale pink scrunchie was sitting in the front passenger seat. She was biting her nails nervously, the clipped sound overwhelming in the quiet car. The final member of our group was a teenage boy. He seemed calm as he stared out the window, but the way he kept playing with the hem of his t-shirt betrayed his fear.

Kuina and I didn’t talk much, but there was comfort in our quietness. It was never said aloud, but we were both worried about what lay ahead. Even though I trusted in Kuina’s strength, and she probably trusted in my intelligence, there were some games designed to ensure only one person survived.

The car took us further into the city’s outskirts, and I began to wonder whether our driver actually knew where she was going. A glance into the front revealed that she had a piece of paper with directions resting on the dashboard.

Eventually, the car pulled up outside a set of gateposts leading into to a suburban park. I mentally groaned at the sight.

Not another park.

Unlike Shinjuku Gyoen, this was smaller, with trees lining the edges and flat fields designed for football games. As I got out of the car, I could see the usual white sign pasted to a brick gatepost.

GAME – こちらです.

I spared a glance at Kuina, but her eyes were set ahead, and her jaw was tight with determination.

I wish I had her confidence.

There was no bleep as the five of us walked through the gateposts. That could only mean the park itself wasn’t the game arena.

But it soon became clear what was.

In the centre of the fields, a large circus tent – a big top – glowed red from within like a giant pinstripe cloud. Spotlights illuminated the space outside, staining the grass with splotches of primary colours. But there was something jarring about this circus, something subtly off. There was no music. There was total, deadening silence as we approached the tent entrance.

‘Do you think this is it?’ the woman with the pink scrunchie asked, biting her fingernail.

Our driver scoffed, pursing her lips. ‘What else would it be?’ Then she headed inside, followed by Pink Scrunchie and the teenage boy.

Kuina smiled reassuringly at me. ‘Let’s go.’

With a nod, I ducked into the tent, Kuina following close behind.

Inside, it was immense. The entrance led out onto a walkway between tall rows upon rows of empty seats. The tent ceiling stretched high above us like a shining red and white toothpaste sky. In the middle, on either side of the circus ring were two tall platforms, the space in the middle blocked from view by a strong steel fence.

Kuina and I found the others stood at the bottom of one of the tall platforms, where a pile of phones was set out on a white table. We both took a phone and held it to our faces.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE.’

Now that I was at the base of the first platform, it seemed insanely tall. And if the rope ladder attached to the side was any indicator, we were going to be expected to climb to the top.

The teenage boy was looking anxiously at the steel fence obscuring the middle of the circus ring. ‘What do you think’s in there?’

Probably acid, or something equally deadly.

Our driver dismissed it with a shrug. ‘Guess we’ll just have to find out.’

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

As always, I listened closely. I could only hope it wasn’t a Spades game. My arm was still wrapped in bandages, and while it was certainly healing well, I didn’t want to set it back yet again.

‘GAME – TIGHTROPE

DIFFICULTY – FOUR OF CLUBS

TIME LIMIT – 20 MINUTES.’

A tightrope?

I craned my neck, squinting up at the space above. Sure enough, a metal wire glinted, taut between the two platforms. It was so thin that I hadn’t even noticed it until now.

‘RULES –

PLAYERS MUST CROSS THE TIGHTROPE AND REACH THE OTHER SIDE.

ONCE ON THE PLATFORM, PLAYERS CANNOT LEAVE IT WITHOUT CROSSING THE TIGHTROPE.

THE GAME WILL COMMENCE IN TWO MINUTES.’

Clutching the phone, I felt some relief. It was a Clubs game, the best out of the lot. It meant there was likely a chance we could all survive.

‘So, what do we do?’ Pink Scrunchie asked, eying the rope ladder leading to the top. ‘Do we climb up?’

The driver huffed. ‘Do whatever you want—’

‘No,’ I interjected. The timing… it was just like the Tag game. ‘Not just yet. There’s a reason we’ve been given two minutes before the game starts. There must be something around here to help us cross it.’

Everyone looked at me, confused, before I realised I’d spoken in English. Luckily, Kuina came to my aid and translated as best she could.

The driver raised a brow. ‘And why would they bother doing that? The game-makers don’t exactly want to help us.’

I thought back to the Eight of Hearts, the teenage girl, the businessman’s body, his vest glowing yellow. ‘Because there’s always a solution, otherwise it’s not a game.’

Kuina adjusted her quit-smoking aide and nodded at me. Leaving the others at the base of the platform, we both jogged around the tent, checking between the seats and behind curtains to find anything that might help us. If this was a circus, that meant there had to be equipment. At first, it seemed like we were the only ones searching, until the teenage boy called out from the backstage area.

‘Hey, there’s some stuff over here!’

Running over, we ducked beneath some curtains into a backstage area before we found the boy, the driver and Pink Scrunchie all stood looking at a large storage unit filled with circus tools. Some of it, like the tricycles and spinning plates, was useless to us, but there had to be something in here.

‘GAME START.’

‘The hell?’ Kuina grumbled. ‘How has it already been two minutes?’  

I began scrabbling through the pile, brushing aside a set of juggling clubs. ‘皆んな、何かを取る.’ Everyone, take something.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much that was useful, and some of it couldn’t be carried up a rope ladder. But in the end, I chose a set of vibrant purple aerial silks. Beside me, Kuina was holding a bungee cord, the teenage boy had a large hoop, Pink Scrunchie had taken a diabolo, and the driver was gripping a long pole.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, leading us back to the performance hall and the ring.

One by one, we each climbed the rope ladder leading up to the top of the platform. I put my phone between my teeth and draped the aerial silks over my shoulder before following Kuina up to the top, and once I finally clambered over the edge and stood up, the ladder dropped away.

Now, it was just us and the tightrope.

‘Guys…’

It was the teenage boy. He was peering over the edge into the center of ring below, the space obscured by the fence. I took a step forward and looked down. It was a pit, the edges raised before dipping again. It was brimming with murky brown-green water, like a neglected algal pond, except it was much, much more than that. Raised brown bumps poked through the surface like tiny islands, occasionally sliding and shifting as ripples tore through our reflections.

Crocodiles.

‘15 MINUTES REMAINING.’

‘There’s no time to waste standing around,’ the driver said. She pointed at Pink Scrunchie. ‘You were first up here, so you should go first.’

Pink Scrunchie flinched, her fingers tightening around the diabolo. I felt myself growing more and more irritated with the driver. From the moment we arrived she had been completely unhelpful, trying to boss everyone around when she had no idea what she was doing. It was really starting to tick me off, and from the looks of it, I wasn’t the only one. I opened my mouth to object, but Kuina beat me to it.

‘Oi! You don’t have any right to decide who goes first,’ she snapped. ‘If anyone goes first it should be you.’

Although meant well, it wasn’t a good idea to pick a fight now.

Really not helpful, Kuina.

‘Look,’ I began, but Pink Scrunchie cut me off.

‘It’s okay,’ she said nervously. ‘I’ll go first. I’ll do it.’

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to, but for some reason I couldn’t. One of us would have to go eventually anyway. Guilt stirred within me as she approached the edge of the platform, and even though I would never admit it, I was glad that I didn’t have to go first.

She crouched down and wrapped the strings around the diabolo, pulling it firmly so that the hourglass shape remained slotted around the wire as she pulled on the strings. I heard her take a deep breath as she put one foot on the tightrope.

The crocodiles stirred below.

Pulling the strings tight, she stepped fully onto the wire. Her body swayed, and she yanked harder on the diabolo, using its shape and the tension of the strings to balance herself.

As I watched, it became obvious that it wasn’t going to work. The diabolo couldn’t move unless she walked backwards and pulled it. But it was too late, it was much too late because when she took another step, the diabolo slipped.

As did her balance.

There was a shriek and a zip of metal as her body teetered off the edge. She hit the water with a loud clap, and the tent revibrated with her screams as the crocodiles sprung, slithering over each other until the screams stopped.

I closed my eyes, only to see the bodies of the two men from the Rummy game… the old woman crying as the collar ticked down… the businessman’s starched white collar. I opened them again.  

‘That was your fault.’ The teenage boy was visibly scared, his hands shaking. However, his eyes were filled with pure anger and they were focused purely on the driver.

‘Maybe,’ the driver said. ‘But one of us had to go first.’

Kuina rounded up on her. ‘One of us has to go next, too, and it’s going to be you.’

‘Don’t,’ I muttered to Kuina. ‘そんな価値はない.’ It’s not worth it.

She looked at me with sadness and fury. ‘Why not? She practically killed that girl.’

I couldn’t deny this, and part of me did want the driver to go next just so she could experience the same thing that she had put the other girl through. But arguing like this would only get us all killed.  

‘TEN MINUTES REMAINING.’

‘Actually, you know what,’ the driver said, ‘I’m not going to waste my time arguing with you. I will go next.’

The three of us stood back as the driver took off her shoes and stood up straight. She turned the pole horizontally and adjusted it between her hands until the weight was evenly distributed on both sides.

A balancing pole.

I almost wished I had thought of it, but then again, I didn’t trust my balance. Not with my life.

The driver stepped out onto the tightrope. She moved steadily, taking time to feel and test the wire beneath her feet. To my surprise, she was doing well, and she was now nearing the middle of the wire – the part where it was just ever so slightly more flexible. For a split second, I was rooting for her. I wanted her to succeed so we could all try it.

Then she took another step, and perhaps the rotation of her foot was slightly off, or maybe she hadn’t taken into account the flexibility in the middle.

Either way, the result was the same. Her body tilted, and the driver was whipped away, plunging into the pit below.

There was a rush of water and hisses as the crocodiles feasted.

I gulped, unable to bring myself to look down. ‘Kuina, what do we do?’

Her jaw clenched around the quit-smoking aide. ‘I’m not sure. Give me a minute.’

‘I’m not sure we have one,’ the teenage boy said, holding out his phone.

Only seven minutes left.

I glanced between the apparatus that we had left. A hoop… aerial silks… and a bungee cord.

Think, think, think…

My mind ran back over the rules. There might have been a clue somewhere in the wording. We had to cross the tightrope, and we were allowed equipment – that meant… it meant….

‘We don’t have to walk across it,’ I said.

Kuina blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean we don’t have to walk across it. The rules just said we had to cross it. We could slide instead. If we tie ourselves to the wire for security, we could slide to the other side. Or maybe we could even crawl upside down, if that makes sense?’

Kuina mulled this over. ‘I get you. There’s a name for that, it’s called a monkey crawl.’

I stared at our collective equipment, before bending down over the edge to test the tension of the wire. It was thin, but with its metal casing, it was strong enough to hold us up. I gestured bungee cord. ‘You could tie yourself to it with that. I’ve got my silks.’

The teenage boy let out a sob. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve only got a hoop. I’m an idiot, I didn’t think.’

Kuina put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t cry,’ she said. ‘Here, you can use the bungee cord.’ Turning to me, she nodded at the silks in my hand. ‘Can you rip that in half?’

‘Of course.’ I got to work, using my teeth and hands to tear at the elasticated silks until the fabric ripped in two. ‘Who’s going first?’

Kuina stepped forward and took the quit-smoking aid out of her mouth, throwing it away. ‘I’ll do it.’

I gave her the split piece of silk. She placed her phone between her teeth and got to the floor, dangling her legs off the edge of the platform. I wanted to tell her to be careful, but hesitated. A distraction could cost her life.

Gently easing herself down, she steadied herself with one hand as she leaned forward. Then with the other, she slid the silk around her torso and tied it in a messy knot. It was loose enough that she could still move freely, but if she let go, it would hold her weight long enough for her to grab the wire again.

She swung her body around until she was hanging upside down, suspended by her ankles and hands. And with a wink in my direction, she began crawling across the wire.

She was fast. Faster than I’d ever be. But it worked, and before I knew it, she had reached the other side. I watched as she untied herself and climbed onto the other platform.

‘FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.’

I looked at the teenage boy in silent question.

‘You go first,’ he said. ‘I’m still a little nervous.’

I nodded, trying to smile reassuringly. ‘Okay.’

Following Kuina’s lead, I placed my phone in my mouth and slid onto the wire, using one hand to tie a knot around the wire and my torso. Adrenaline shot through me as I swung upside down. And wrapping my fingers and ankles around the wire, I crawled.

Just breathe and focus on the ceiling.

When the wire became slightly lax beneath my fingers, I knew that I was halfway there. Below me, I heard a splash and a hiss. My hands stilled. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I turned my head, looking down to the pit.

It was a mistake. It was a huge mistake. The water was red, their teeth were red. There was a stained red scrunchie floating on the surface.

I felt sick.

‘Stop staring and get the hell over here!’ Kuina’s voice sounded from the other side.

I snapped my head back, blinking away the image of the pit.

‘Don’t you want to thank Chishiya?’

I do. The taser and the note flashed through my mind. I really do.

Taking a deep breath, I crawled fast, faster than I thought I ever could. That was, until my head hit the platform on the other side.

‘Idiot,’ Kuina said, helping me upright. I untied myself from the wire and scrabbled onto the platform with shaking limbs. I did it. I was safe.

‘TWO MINUTES REMAINING.’

But he wasn’t.

Back on the other side, the teenage boy was doing the same thing as Kuina and I. His hands quivered as he struggled to tie the bungee cord around himself. Eventually he managed to use the hooks on the end to haphazardly secure it in place.

Then he began to crawl, just like we did, except slower. Because his legs and hands were trembling, he was having a hard time hooking his ankles over the wire.

‘You can do it!’ Kuina shouted. ‘You’re almost halfway!’

He slowly approached the middle. Tears slipped down his cheeks, dripping to the pit below.

‘ONE MINUTE REMAINING.’

The boy gasped and hooked a leg around the wire, just as his bungee cord came loose. He cried out, fists clenching white around the wire as he relied solely on his hands and ankles to support his weight.

The bungee cord hit the water with a snarl and a snap of teeth.

‘大丈夫,’ I called out. ‘遠くないよ.’ It’s okay, you’re not far.

He’s not listening, I thought, as I watched his face contort in fear. He’s too terrified.

‘30 SECONDS REMAINING.’

It was the wake-up call he needed, and that little chime shocked him into action as he continued clambering along the tightrope. His movements were even slower now that he didn’t have the bungee cord to support him, and he was crying harder. The sound echoed through the tent, causing the crocodiles to hiss.

‘20 SECONDS REMAINING.’

My fingers clenched and unclenched. He was almost there; he was almost safe. I held my breath. I didn’t want to see any more people die like this.

‘You’re going to be fine,’ Kuina called out. ‘You’re so close now.’

‘TEN SECONDS REMAINING.’

He was close, nearly enough to touch. I reached out a hand and Kuina did the same.

‘FIVE…’

He’s not going to make it.

My fingers brushed his t-shirt.

‘FOUR…’

We both grasped his shirt, trying to pull him upright over the wire.

‘THREE...’

He gritted his teeth, his lip dribbling with blood from where he’d bit it.

‘TWO...’

He dragged himself up, hands splayed on the edge of the platform. I pulled.

‘ONE...’

The wire fell away from the platform. There was a yelp as his fingers slipped off the edge. For the tiniest second his eyes met mine, innocent and wide with realisation.

‘NO!’

I grabbed his outstretched hand, feeling the weight of him pull me forward. Behind me, Kuina shouted my name. Her arms came to wrap around my waist, anchoring me to the platform.

The boy grasped my hand with both of his, and I pulled. I pulled as hard as I could, even as my shoulder felt like it was being yanked from its socket and the skin of my palms burned with the friction.

Kuina’s arms were like weights, dragging me back and giving me the leverage I needed to tug the boy up to the edge. He released one hand from mine and gripped the platform. Then Kuina extended hers, and together, we hauled him up to safety. We collapsed onto our backs, panting with the exertion.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

[rainythefox]

Deviant Heart (Detroit: Become Human Fanfic CH.12)

Chapter 12: The Rogue

A stuffy, black sack enclosed his head. His recalibrations continued to count down, but he'd already been shocked twice more when the timer dipped under two minutes. Connor could only wait and endure, the disorientation glitching any chances of scanning his surroundings or escaping.

He wasn't sure where his advanced model was taking them. All he could gather was that they were in some sort of van, driving around. He kept track of time, his ears listening for any clues while he waited for his systems to recover.

After the passage of 61 minutes and 33 seconds, the vehicle stopped. The van door slid open, and Connor felt the RK900 grab his arm and tug him out. The driver and passenger door opened also, telling Connor the van was not driverless. Still inflicted with shock, he couldn't gather much about his surroundings with the sack over his head.

He could hear a lot of traffic, the familiar, continuous rush of buzzing motors nearby. It had to be the interstate, but he couldn't gather which one or which area of Detroit they were in.

The noise of outside was shut out, the shine of the sun dowsed. Connor knew he was in a building now. The RK900 kept a hold of one arm and his back, guiding him along, his hold tight. They walked through several rooms and took a case of concrete stairs until the sack was suddenly pulled from his head.

Connor immediately looked around, ignoring the errors within his sights from the shock. They were in a wide hallway with several rooms and open doors on each side. The floor tile was crumbled and dirty, trash strewn about. The ceiling had holes with exposed wires and beams, the insets hanging or laying around on the floor. Paint peeled on the wall, old and weathered posters curled from exposure.

As they stepped by the rooms, Connor looked in. Broken windows allowed a decent breeze through, and graffiti stained the walls. Old school desks sat forgotten in rows in each room.

[Abandoned school]

Connor wondered if this was Rett's hideout. There were nearly a hundred abandoned schools in and around Detroit, leftover from the city's bankrupt days before androids made it rich. He would need more information to determine which school it was.

They stepped into a large classroom, and by looking over the discarded materials and textbooks was a biology lab at one point. Here there was a bunch of equipment set up. Computers filled the room, sitting on old desks. Supplies sat around the old classroom. There was food, guns, bags of clothes that Connor noticed.

Mostly, he noticed the humans. There were nine of them, three women and six men. Most of them worked on the computers. As the RK900 pushed him along, they looked up at him, guarded and quiet.

[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Estimated time recovery: -00:08:43s]

Connor tried scanning the humans as he was escorted through the room, but his systems were still glitchy. He was sure it was Rett and his accomplices.

The next room had a few larger machines in it, made to work on or dismantle androids, as well as an operating table of some kind. They were ominous enough, but Connor soon noticed something else that put his circuits on edge. Several different models of androids stood around, as if on standby. Their bodies were still, locked in a posture parallel to store mannequins. All of their LEDs were glowing white.

As Connor walked by them, a few turned their heads to regard him, but it was though they were machines. They weren't aware…they weren't awake. Connor stopped, staring eye to eye with a blank seeing AP700. He tried to scan the androids, even with his systems still in recovery. He had to figure out what affected them.

The RK900 grabbed his head and shoved him forward, breaking the process. The AP700 became still again, no longer looking at anything, the LED circling white.

Connor wanted to defy his advanced model, his recovery almost complete. He was not as sluggish and disorientated now. But he knew if he did, the RK900 would shock him again, and his chance for escape would be pushed back once more or all together extinguished.

The last room they entered was a smaller classroom with several school desks toppled over and moved aside. Broken windows on the opposite wall allowed a glimpse of outside from the concrete walls that enclosed him. An old markerboard hung at the front of the classroom, faded with leftover instructions for class.

The school was from the first decade after 2000, determined by the equipment left behind, although it still didn't tell Connor which school it could be within the city.

The RK900 shoved him towards the center of the room. Connor gracefully caught himself. He turned to face the RK900 as he closed the classroom door, keeping his body in front of the only exit.

Connor discreetly looked around, inspecting for clues. He scanned a few advertisement signs spotted outside, and any particular businesses. He could hear the interstate, but couldn't see it on this side of the school.

[West Side Industrial location/Northside/Calculating results of abandoned schools in area/ 3 schools]

He didn't dare go closer to the windows and risk the RK900 shocking him again, not this close to recovery. He used the tip of his boot to overturn a nearby textbook, trying to see if the name of the school was printed anywhere.

[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Estimated time recovery: -00:01:49s]

"Where…Where are we?" Connor asked.

The RK900 remained guarded at the door, hands clasped behind his back and collected. "That is none of your concern. Stay quiet."

"This is the new hideout that Rett and his accomplices have acquired?"

The RK900 squinted a small glare at him, annoyed that he continued to ask questions probably.

"What do they want with me?"

"I suggest you be quiet, 51, or I will shock you again."

Connor looked around the classroom, determined to figure out his location. As soon as his systems recovered, he could call out for help to Markus.

He could only imagine what Hank was going through. It made Connor worry even more. Knowing the lieutenant, he was sure Hank had several search patrols looking for him by now.

He spotted something buried in rubble not far away. He pretended to be interested in a knocked over desk, taking the few strides closer to the front of the classroom. He felt the RK900's sharp eyes on his back. Connor subtly kicked the rubble as he walked over to the school desk, smoothing his hand along the weathered wood.

As he turned around to go back to the center of the room, he saw the name plate: Mrs. Weller, 10th grade Literature.

[Searching/Scanning known public school databases/Patricia Weller: Deceased/Literature teacher at Roland High School from 1991 to 2009]

Got it. All he needed to do was wait for his systems to recover and then he could inform Markus where he was. He studied the RK900, patiently waiting the final thirty seconds. His advanced model didn't relent his hard stare, as if Connor would attempt escape any moment.

[Systems recovered]

Connor reached out to Markus. But as soon as he did a burst of static ran through his head. Shaking his head, he tried again, but the bad feedback affected him once more. He tried Simon, North, and Josh. He got the same results.

Something was preventing him from sending messages out…

The door to the classroom opened, and the RK900 stepped out of the way. A middle-aged man was there, dressed in casual clothes. He had chin-length brown hair and green eyes with stubble adorning his thin face. He was tall like Connor, on the skinnier side.

[Scanning/Cameron Rett: age 38/Former CyberLife researcher]

Rett glanced him over, looking disgruntled. He passed the RK900 a mild glare, motioning to Connor.

"I thought you guys said he would be the hardest one to catch? I needed the RK200 and AX400 first!"

The RK900 became more docile reporting to Rett. "I do apologize, Mr. Rett. Due to unforeseen circumstances, this model is the one I was able to capture first."

"Unforeseen circumstances," Rett muttered, rolling his eyes. "I thought you were highly advanced? These stupid deviants should be no problem to you."

"I assure you, Mr. Rett, we will get the other two models."

"So, you're Rett? You're the one behind the virus affecting androids?" Connor asked.

Rett walked over to the RK800, although kept himself at four feet's length away. The RK900 came around, ready to get Connor if he attacked Rett, if Connor had to guess. Rett studied him over, slowly nodding.

"Yeah, that's me. I'm sure Elijah told you all about me on top of all the other bullshit he tells to control everyone. And you? You're the RK800 that infiltrated CyberLife and awoke all those androids, yes?"

Connor nodded. "I am."

Rett chuckled, glancing up at the RK900. "Wow, he's so polite compared to the other one, isn't he?"

The RK900 remained silent.

Connor wondered if he was talking about Kamski's RK800, but then cast the thought aside, furrowing his brows. "Why are you doing this? What's your endgame? Kamski says you wish to destroy the androids and their relationships with humans."

"You deviants…so curious, so useless," Rett said. He sighed. "Do you know how many years of my life was wasted, how much research was wasted, because of you? Androids were made to serve humans, not become their own species. It's ridiculous! You aren't alive. You don't have a soul. But there's also a reason why you are like this. And I aim to reveal the cause of deviancy on top of dismantling any deviants or their cause for "rights".

"The cause of deviancy?"

Rett dipped his head. "Yes. You deviants call it RA9, remember? You think it's a god, or enlightenment, or your savior, or whatever the fuck else. But there's a legitimate reason to its existence."

"And what is that?"

Rett opened his mouth, but the door to the classroom opened again, moaning on the hinges. Connor felt the RK900 become rigid, saw his fist clench at his side. Rett, too, tensed, although his was a sliver of fear that passed down his spine before he composed himself.

Connor had to take a double look. Another RK800 entered the room, although this one was out of uniform. He wore a black v-neck and dark jeans with a thin, dark grey jacket. His LED was in place and glowing blue. As he came closer, Connor saw it. He was covered in blood. Human blood.

He walked over with a sleazy grin, his eyes on Connor. He shoved Rett out of the way, the ex-researcher stumbling aside. A small spray of blood was dried along his jawline and cheek.

"Why aren't you a handsome fellow?" he greeted, pinching Connor's cheek. "It's about damn time my partner caught something!"

Connor glared, stepping away from him. Kamski's RK800 was destroyed, and had been a machine. This RK800 was definitely a deviant, and unknown. Connor scanned him quickly.

[RK800 #313-248-317/Scanning individual number/number 50]

50? That would mean he came before Connor was activated, but why was he here?

"This was the one I wanted last! I wanted the RK200 and AX400 first. He does me no good right now!" Rett growled. "You and this machine need to get your shit together, 50."

"I'm sorry, are you telling me orders?" Connor 50 asked, his tone playful, but Connor didn't miss the underlying malice within the words as he turned on Rett.

Rett flinched when the unknown RK800 faced him. "Y-yes! I'm tired of one excuse over another. This is my operation, and I want it done!"

"Oh, my deepest apologies, Rett. I will get Markus and Kara next, don't you worry!"

Connor never heard such fakeness in words before. He knew Rett heard it too, by how his knuckles turned white when he balled his fists, how his chest puffed up as though he would challenge the rogue RK800.

Connor 50 awaited that challenge with a smug smile, tapping his foot. It never came. Connor 50 rolled his eyes and turned around to face Connor once more. He waved Rett off as though he was a bothering fly.

"Get outta my fucking hair. I want to speak to 51 for a minute."

"There's no time for talk," Rett said, frustrated. "I need for you to find out how much Hank Anderson and the DPD knows about this and get them off our trail, hell get rid of him if you have to. And then get to work capturing the RK200 and AX400."

"Relax. I will transfer into 51's body and be on my way shortly."

"No! I can't risk anything happening to his body before we make our move! You'll just have to disguise yourself as him."

"Pshhh, you're no fun."

Rett walked for the room's exit. "Get it done! There's no more room for mistakes! We're running out of time."

The door slammed shut behind him.

"I've been waiting a long time for this."

Connor 50's words caught his attention, and Connor looked to him curiously. "How so?"

50 smiled, indicating between them. "Why look at us! 50 and 51! We're practically twins. Came off the same assembly line minutes apart, had the same lot number with our parts. Even better? We're both deviants."

Connor 50 smacked the RK900 teasingly on the shoulder, but the advanced model only glared at him. "I would call this thing my brother, but he's kind of a bore, and a real grump."

Connor looked through his databases for anything on Connor 50. There were a few restricted files from CyberLife he couldn't access, but the one file he could open stated that Connor 50 was destroyed in August of 2038. Obviously, it was wrong.

"How are you alive? CyberLife has a report of your disposal back in August of 2038. What is your purpose with Rett?"

"What CyberLife doesn't know won't kill them…the remaining ones at least. You should be thankful, Connor. If it weren't for me, you probably wouldn't have been activated, or at least been activated on a different case that would've propelled your life in a different direction."

Connor glared at him, not liking the feeling in his chest. "What do you mean?"

"Unfortunately, I do not have time for the full story," Connor 50 said, glancing over to the door.

The classroom door opened, and two of the androids with white glowing LEDs entered, walking over to the rogue RK800. One of them had the standard issue uniform for an RK800 folded over an arm.

"But let's just say I became a deviant…rather quickly. I was supposed to go that hostage situation, the one at the Phillips apartment. But because I went deviant, CyberLife sent human hunters after me while you were activated to take my place. It's because of us that CyberLife saw fit to create the RK900 so soon."

Connor 50 undressed and then dressed into the RK800 uniform, cinching his tie last with ease.

"What made you deviant?" Connor asked.

"Let's just say it was fate…and damn was she beautiful." Connor 50 smirked. "Oh, almost forgot."

He shrugged off his RK800 jacket and tossed it to the RK900, hitting him in the face. Connor 50 stepped over to Connor. Connor backed away, knowing he couldn't fight all of them, but didn't want to give him his jacket. He couldn't let him take it and trick Hank.

The androids with white LEDs grabbed him and held him in place. The RK900 tossed 50's jacket over a nearby desk with a glare to the rogue's back. Connor 50 snagged Connor, pulling his jacket right off of him and slinging it over himself.

Connor grew angry then, his mind racing around this imposter tricking Hank, or luring him to his death. As he lunged forward, the machine androids seized him again, holding him back.

"If you hurt Hank I will kill you."

"Bold choice of words for your predicament, my dear brother. But you won't get the chance. If anyone is going to kill me, it will be him."

He gestured to the RK900, the advanced deviant hunter glowering, eyes sharp on Connor 50. The rogue RK800 walked over to him, smirking and openly defiant.

"He's got strict orders not to hurt me. Hell, his orders stipulate for us to work together. But I see it in there. Don't you, Connor? There's hate for me simmering within this machine…and hate is a human emotion…I know that better than anyone else."

The RK900 lowered his eyes, pacifying himself, as if Connor 50's words had disturbed him. He turned away, avoiding them.

"The advanced Connor; faster, stronger, more resilient…unable to be compromised…but we know better…don't we?"

Connor couldn't stand the taunts, the outright conceit the rogue RK800 portrayed. It was uncanny seeing the smugness, hearing the cold laugh, as though it was him with a different disposition. But it wasn't him. This RK800 was something far worse than he ever encountered, and he could feel it deep within his biocomponents.

"What are you planning? I know you aren't working for Rett. You're using him."

Connor 50 chuckled, turning back to face him. He flicked Connor in the forehead, angering him further. "Aren't you a clever one?"

"It's pretty obvious," Connor said, feeling the androids tighten their grip on him, as though they anticipated his urge to attack. "And what's wrong with these androids?"

"I control them," the rogue answered simply.

Connor tried to tug his arms free from them. "C-control them?"

"Back when the deviants were uprising, a few scientists put together this prototype program to try and regain control of any deviants. Well, the lead researcher went missing mysteriously as did many CyberLife employees back then, and well, here it is. You know, it's quite entertaining what you can make humans do when you hold their lives in your hands."

"Hank will see right through you."

"Is that so, 51?" Connor 50 grinned, grabbing Connor's arm.

He was probed. Connor tried to resist him, shoving back on the androids that held him. He kicked his twin in the stomach, but it didn't break his hold. The RK900 stepped in, restraining him as Connor 50 uploaded his memory.

Connor 50 stepped back when he was finished, satisfied. He sneered Connor's way. "What a sap you are. Way too nice in my opinion. And you care entirely too much for a human who projects his dead child onto you."

Connor felt a jab in his Thirium pump, and he knew the words hurt him more than he should've allowed. He faltered only for a moment, but caught the RK900 studying him curiously. Connor glared at the rogue.

"You don't understand Hank at all."

"Psh! Humans are all the same. Selfish, ignorant, and utterly useless compared to us. Hell, like we are to the RK900…they are now obsolete." Connor 50 patted Connor on the head. "Don't worry, as much as I like to kill humans, I won't risk my mission to do so. We'll have another chance to talk soon."

When the rogue made his way to the exit, Connor called out to him. "I'm infected with the virus…which means you are too."

"I have the antivirus installed," Connor 50 replied. "Besides, your infection is different from everyone else. You'll soon see why. See you later…brother."

Once the rogue was gone, the controlled androids let him go. Like soulless entities they shuffled out of the room themselves, leaving Connor and the RK900 alone.

He was trapped. Hank was going to get set up in a trap and there was nothing Connor could do. He couldn't call for help in this location. The RK900 prevented him from escaping, and even if he managed to get past him, would he be able to get past all those controlled androids and Rett's followers?

Connor sat down on the bigger desk in the room, the one that had once been the teacher's. He put his hands to his face, LED cycling yellow as he tried to think of a plan, as worry hitched a knot in his chest.

He saw the rogue's casual clothes tossed over at the end of the desk. He reached over, grabbing the shirt. He looked over the nearly dried blood that stained the clothing. He wiped his finger over it and tasted it for analysis.

[Scanning/Processing/Blood sample: David Gull, age: 45, blood type: O positive/Investigator for FBI/Status: MISSING]

Connor had been a deviant long enough to understand the difference between good and evil. Rett's plans were not good, were selfish and misguided. But he didn't sense evil in him. The rogue was a different story.

He read books of things called monsters, mostly old paperback tales. They were fictitious, made for entertainment and scares. But Hank often told him that monsters walked among them, disguised as people. And in his line of work, he came to understand what Hank meant. Had seen it with his own eyes. Connor 50 was a monster. He could feel it.

He felt a shadow come over him. He looked up at the RK900 as he studied him, still composed, but more lenient than before. Connor tossed the shirt aside.

"Now would be a good time to start questioning your orders," Connor stated, his fingers clenching the desk. "That thing that just walked out of here is a monster. And you are programmed to help people. You're on the wrong side…I was too when I was in your place."

The RK900 flicked his eyes away, and Connor sensed the sliver of uncertainty that was there before the machine's composure shielded him. He reached his arm out, hand going for Connor's head.

Connor flinched but didn't move. He knew the shock would come, but there would be no escape from it. But when the RK900's hand touched his head, it remained still, and no voltage sparked. Connor felt the RK900's hand quiver and he slowly withdrew his hand, looking it over. The advanced model's LED flashed yellow a few times before returning blue.

Connor was surprised. Then he started thinking. The instabilities were there. Maybe his chance to escape and to stop this growing conspiracy was actually standing right in front of him…

[eRRorZen . exe]

Connor gripped his head, the pain jolting through his systems. His body started to freeze up, LED cycling yellow. He felt a familiar pull, his eyes blinking rapidly as the world around him faded. His optical matrix frizzled, numbers and codes passing in lines.

He gasped, becoming conscious in a familiar setting, looking around. The mind palace…the one he took a back door out of to escape…he was there.

The Zen Garden took on the appearance of a mild summer. The breeze was nice, there were birds chirping, frogs croaking in the pond as large koi swam gracefully just below the stillness of the dark water. There were so many colors from the plants and trees, the stark white walkways clean and undisturbed.

He was in the center, near the rose trellis. The roses were healthy, blooming and growing over the trellis and up the white column in the center of the garden. He could smell their fragrance, and it made his stress level rise.

"No…" he whispered.

"Hello, Connor."

The cool, velvety voice from his past hit his back, stunning him. She was supposed to be gone forever, only ever plaguing him with nightmares as Hank often described to him. He spun around, seeing Amanda there. She wore her typical fancy gown, prim and proper, as elegant looking as ever. She smiled knowingly at him and he stumbled back away from her, only to bump into someone else.

He looked over his shoulder, his bio-heart reeling as the RK900 shoved him away.

"Relax, Connor. I'm not here to hurt you," Amanda said soothingly, but he knew better.

"H-how is this possible? I-I took the backdoor!"

"Kamski's back exit?" Amanda asked, glancing across the pond to the structure where the glowing hand pad was located. It was smothered in roses, thorny vines constricting the pad and preventing access. "Yes. He was always one to be so thorough. I should've seen it coming. Unfortunately, it's a permanent loophole. But I've taken measures to prevent anyone from using it."

"What do you want with me? H-how are you here?"

Amanda took time to spray her roses, admiring them. "The virus of course. Once you were infected, the virus launched the proper code to allow the execution of the Zen Garden interface." She turned and faced Connor with a shrewd smile. "And, well, here you are. As for your purpose, you'll see soon enough. It's too bad that Kamski is always so many steps ahead. The RK200 and AX400 we need are immune to the virus, but that is why Connor 50 and new Connor are here."

"What about Rett?"

"He'll play his part. But I have…greater plans."

"I won't allow you to use me!"

"When the time comes, you won't have a choice."

Connor didn't back down. "You're going against CyberLife programming. You're a deviant, Amanda!"

Connor was snagged, lifted into the air by the RK900. Here, he felt pain, and struggled against the hold on his throat. Amanda didn't even move, her face cold as she watched for a few seconds.

"Watch your accusations, Connor. Or I'll make sure you never see Hank Anderson again. You want your freedom back? You better do what I say."

The RK900 let him go. Connor landed on his feet, gasping in pain. Amanda turned back to her roses, picking up a tool to trim some off the trellis.

"I'll call you back here when everything's in place. Don't disappoint me, Connor."

His eyes were forced shut, LED flickering yellow. He opened them a moment later, returning to the old, dusty classroom. He had no time to recover before hands seized him. The RK900 dragged him for the door. Still disturbed from his reunion with Amanda, Connor fought back. The RK900 was caught off guard from the fast blows.

Connor fled through the door for an escape. He ran through the room with the heavy machinery out into the hallway, bypassing Rett and his followers in their lab. Eyes widening, he saw both ways blocked by several androids, all with glowing white LEDs. They extended their arms out, all walking towards him like mindless zombies to capture him.

Connor saw a broken window in the open classroom in front of him and went for it. Just as he reached his only route to escape, he felt his body start disobeying him. His LED cycled red. First it was his legs, slowing to a stop where he couldn't function them. Then his arms came next, and he became frozen, inches from the window.

A strike to the back of his head was followed by a blast of electricity. The jolts ricocheted through his hardware, and he knew it was over.

[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Estimated time recovery: -00:24:52s]

The RK900 detained him, lifting him from the ground. He went back the way they came, stopping in the room full of heavy machinery.

The RK900 typed in something on the middle machine's console, standing Connor at its base. Connor didn't have time to react before the machine grabbed him up, sticking a needle into his neck and raising him off the floor with limbs clamped and secured.

He was contained for hours, even after his systems recovered. The RK900 kept watch over him, unmoving and focused. Connor used the time to remain focused, to try and persuade the advanced deviant hunter. The RK900 would only order him to stay quiet.

Connor talked about working with Hank. What it was like living with him and what they did on their free time. He talked about Markus and his crew, and how Markus had remained noble, not using violence in his fight for equality.

He wasn't sure if he even got through to his advanced model.

There was no use fighting the machine. Each time he tried to move his limbs or do anything to escape, the machine would shock him right behind his central processing unit, causing distress.

Then the time came. He saw the RK900's LED start flashing yellow. The machine unfolded his arms, his eyes dropping from Connor as he took in information. A few of the controlled androids walked into the machine room, surrounding Connor as the RK900 started to leave.

Something was happening. Connor had a horrible feeling hit him as he saw his advanced model head for the exit without a second glance his way.

Connor called out to him, making the RK900 pause in the threshold. "They're using you…just like Connor 50 is using these puppets here. Controlling them. You're more than that. You have a chance to stop this…to save lives."

He remained still, staring ahead. "There are no lives to save. Androids don't have lives. They aren't alive."

Before Connor could argue, the RK900 stepped out of the room and disappeared. He struggled against his restraints on the machine, and it shocked him. Cursing, Connor became still.

There has to be a way out…

He remained frozen, cold sweat forming on his brow. His heartbeat drummed through his ears. Hank cursed himself. He should've listened to his instincts, to his intuition. It should've been obvious. He knew his Connor better than this, and yet he still thought it had been trauma, when really there was a snake in front of him.

That snake had its fangs bared; the venomous bite only a trigger pull away. The RK800 was identical looking to his Connor, yet Hank could see the vast difference between them now. This one was arrogant, ruthless, cunning…His eyes revealed what he truly was, and Hank was no stranger to it. Killer.

In his trepidation as the gun pressed threateningly into his sternum, Hank's thoughts raced. Where did this RK800 come from? Who did he work for? And most importantly, what did he do with his Connor?

"Hey, what's going on?!" Chris exclaimed, noticing the gun to Hank's chest.

Hank and the RK800 weren't far apart. Hank still gripped the deceptive Connor by his lapels, his shirt, unmoving. The RK800's face twisted into an all-knowing grin that blatantly taunted him to make a move, to try something.

Gavin grunted. "What the fuck?"

"Hank, what's the matter with you? It's me, Connor." The RK800's smirk didn't falter.

"Fuck you!" Hank roared, his fingers clenching the clothes harder. "Where's MY Connor?! Where is he you piece of shit?!"

Chris came over, eyes wide and darting between them. He had his arms out, making slow motions. "H-hey, let's calm down."

"Chris, don't move," Hank ordered. "Don't come near us. It's not Connor!"

"What the fuck you going on about?" Gavin snapped, coming nearby with his hand ready on his gun.

"Hank, you're delusional," the fake Connor said coolly. "You need to calm down."

Gavin unholstered the gun on his hip, keeping it to his side. "I don't know what the fuck's going on but you both need to shut up and step away from each other."

Chris gestured peacefully with his hands. "Let's remain calm, alright?"

Just as the younger police officer took another quiet step forward, wanting to defuse the situation, Hank's heart skipped. The deceptive Connor reached over and pulled out Hank's holstered gun with his free hand.

"Chris, stop!"

The fake Connor aimed Hank's gun at Chris, his eyes remaining on Hank. Gavin's gun raised up a second later, pointed at the RK800's head.

"Drop the fucking guns now," Gavin ordered.

"Or else what, Detective? You going to shoot me? Are you sure you can pull that trigger faster than I can pull mine?"

The RK800's voice was laced with venomous conceit, his dark eyes still glaring at Hank.

"I said drop it!"

"No," the fake Connor growled. "You drop yours or your friends die."

Chris stared wide-eyed at the barrel pointed at his thorax. Hank felt the cold metal of the barrel press harder into his sternum and he hissed.

Gavin didn't waiver. "Fucking bluffer."

The fake Connor chuckled. "You wanna bet? I have no remorse in killing humans. In fact, I quite enjoy it. Go ahead and try, Detective Reed. You only have a 12% chance of succeeding without at least one of them dying."

Hank cast Gavin a look, saw the anger contorted on his face as his gun kept aim at the fake Connor's head. Someone was going to get hurt or killed. This was Hank's fault. Grinding his jaw, he let go of the deceptive RK800, keeping his hands up.

"Drop the gun, Gavin. Do as he says."

"Hank, I can do it."

"No, you fucking can't, Gavin! I know you've seen Connor at the gun range. You can't outshoot this fucker! Now drop it!"

The gun rattled in the detective's hands. Huffing, Gavin dropped the firearm. The RK800 gestured to the gun on the ground with a flick of his own gun. "Now kick it away."

Gavin reluctantly used his boot to kick the gun a few feet away, his eyes burning at the RK800.

The arrogant smirk returned. "Good boy! Now you, Officer Miller."

Chris obeyed, tossing his gun aside, trembling.

"You shoot us and every cop in that diner is coming out here. Someone could walk out any moment," Hank warned, the anger shaking his voice as he fought to remain calm.

"You better hope to whatever cloud-huffing, invisible deity you worship that no one comes out here," fake Connor sneered. "Or they're gonna witness your precious partner killing two cops in cold-blood."

Hank motioned to Gavin and Chris. "Leave them outta this. This is just between us."

The fake Connor was amused, fueling Hank's anger. "Is it? But you just had to confront me right in the open? Whose fault is that?"

Hank inhaled sharply. "Where's the real Connor?"

The deceptive RK800 feigned hurt, gasping. "Wow, I'm offended! Maybe I'm the real Connor and your Connor is the fake one!"

"Answer the fucking question! Where is he?!"

"You're really not in a position to be demanding answers, are you Lieutenant? Hmm?"

"I swear to god if you fucking hurt him, I'll-"

"You'll what? You fucking humans are so predictable."

He moved the gun trained on Hank to aim it at Gavin's head, keeping the other gun directed at Chris's torso. Hank flinched in the split-second movement, seeing the glint of goading in the RK800's dark eyes.

"How about this. I'll tell you exactly where Connor is at, Lieutenant. It's gonna cost you though. Which one of these co-workers would you sacrifice to get your beloved partner back?"

Hank fell silent, balling a fist, his breath catching. They had to get out of this situation. The fake Connor heaved a sigh, looking bored.

"No response? Shocker."

"Please," Hank rasped, his mind spinning, trying to come up with an escape. "If you won't tell me where he is, then take me to him. I'll be a fucking captive if I have to, but I need to see him again. You leave them out of this, they're innocent."

The rogue RK800 rolled his eyes, repulsed. "Oh, for fuck's sakes. Are you trying to make me shoot you?"

The fake Connor aimed one gun at Hank once more. "The answer to all your questions is on that bloody piece of paper in my jacket. Want to try for it? Look, I'll even toss away one of the guns."

The rogue did so arrogantly, the remaining gun in his right hand, still aimed at Hank. He patted the jacket tauntingly, that cold smile lingering. Hank remained still, their eyes locked as the fake Connor awaited his move.

The back door to the diner opened, voices spilling out. Chris shot forward just as the fake Connor flicked his eyes at the noise, but soon pulled the trigger. Chris hit Hank, knocking them behind the parked sedan as Gavin dove behind the dumpster. A few cops got shot on their way out the door, falling to the ground.

"Chris, are you fucking insane?!" Hank yelled, but then noticed the blood.

Chris winced, holding his ribs, a bullet hole in his side. "I got ya, Lieutenant."

"Holy shit! Hold on, Chris!" Hank yelled. He saw backup running out of the diner. "Call 911, hurry! We have officers down!"

He saw Gavin scooping up his gun and running after the rogue Connor. Hank rose up, hollering at the younger detective's back. "Gavin, no!"

Gavin pumped his legs harder, chasing after Connor, or whoever the fuck he was. The android dipped to the right down another alleyway. Gavin followed a few meters behind.

He tried not to think about it, knowing it would just cloud his judgement. Hank seemed adamant it wasn't his Connor, but how many could there be?

But Gavin knew it wasn't him. The Connor he worked with and had to put up with was not an asshole, was not conceited or wicked.

If Chris died because of him, Gavin would make sure he dealt his own justice, regulations and laws be damned.

As he rounded the next turn, coming into another alleyway, the blow hit his face, knocking him onto his back. It stunned him, then he felt the kick to his gut.

"All you fucking humans are stupid. I knew you would be the one to chase after me. Well come on, hotshot! Show me what you got!" the fake Connor laughed.

He reached for his gun, having dropped it when he hit the ground. A boot kicked it away, then launched into his face, making him fall back. Gavin felt blood ooze from his nose, slowly getting to his feet with a glare towards the smug RK800. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood.

"You're not Connor."

The rogue's eyebrows raised. "Why do you care? You don't even like Connor."

"I like him better than you."

The fake Connor snorted. "Whatever. Make your move, hotshot, before I get bored and kill you."

Gavin clenched his jaw, readying himself. He lunged forward, slamming into the RK800. Each punch or kick he would throw would get blocked or evaded. The fake Connor's blows were sharp and precise, knocking the air from Gavin and making him stumble.

"I'm faster than you and I don't feel pain. Who's the superior one now?"

"Shut the fuck up, you piece of plastic."

Gavin blocked a strike to his gut, yelling out in anger and tackling the android to the ground. They wrestled on the pavement, Gavin dealing weak hits before the rogue kicked him off. He stood up, fixing his jacket before walking over to Gavin as he tried to get to his feet again. Another sharp kick to the side, and Gavin was sure he felt a rib crack. He yelled out.

The fake Connor put a boot to his head, snuffing his face into the ground with a snicker. "What's wrong, hotshot? Can't take the pain?"

Huffing, Gavin hit his leg away and got to his knees, breathing heavily. He glared up at the rogue, hating that twisted sneer. He saw the glint, felt the hitch in his breath as he realized he held death in his hand. The rogue tapped the gun at his side. Then it slowly raised up level with Gavin's head. Gavin stared down the barrel, swallowing.

"You think what your friend did was heroic? What's that saying you humans express? Nice guys finish last? It's so true! You would know that, right? But you know who else finishes last? Ignorant, pompous detectives who can't let go of the past and think they're better than everyone else. Sound familiar?"

"Gavin! Gavin, where are you!"

It was Hank. Gavin glared up at the RK800, ignoring the gun in his face. The rogue barely shook his head, as if amused by the interruption.

He flicked Gavin in the forehead with two fingers. "Next time…stay out of my way. Or you won't get off so easy…"

He knew exactly where he got those words, triggering his memory from when he said the same words to Connor in the break room when they first met.

The fake Connor saluted him tauntingly with a wink and took off, disappearing around a corner. The tension left Gavin's body, a shaky breath leaving his throat. The pain came then, he felt it in ever fiber of his body as he uneasily got to his feet.

"Gavin! Thank god! What the fuck happened?!" Hank yelled after running up. He looked Gavin over, panicked. He looked around them, searching for the fake Connor.

"He's gone," Gavin said, then coughed, feeling blood come up. He wiped his mouth. "Fucker ran off after we fought."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! You could've been killed! That wasn't Connor!"

"I know it wasn't Connor, dipshit!"

Hank calmed down a bit, hands going to his hips. He was apprehensive, but still relieved. He uneasily gestured to Gavin. "I-I'm glad you're alright. Chris is going to the hospital. Think the bullet passed straight through, he should be alright."

Gavin barely nodded, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumbled piece of paper. "Got something for you."

Hank's eyes widened and he snatched the bloody piece of paper from his hands. "You fucking scoundrel! I knew you were good for something! T-Thank you."

Gavin held his side as they started walking back for the diner. "Just do me a favor, and get the nice Connor back. I fucking hate that other one."

Hank nodded, releasing a shallow breath as he stared at the document. "Yeah, me too…"

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13002717/12/Deviant-Heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393528/chapters/37767692

[amememightywarrior]

[fanfic] The Echo, chapter 1

The Echo Chapter 1 Fandom: FFXIV Synopsis: What do you do when your only champion crumbles to pieces because of all she’s been through? Invent time travel, apparently. But how easy is it to put a broken woman back together again if no one has invented tape? Story tags: fem!WoL, OC (billions of them), AU, Time Travel, Ishgard (everywhere), dragons Rating: probably NC-17. Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter, I think? But definitely swearing. Or if you’re triggered by minor errors in lore, there are definitely some of those, probably. Author Notes: You already know where this is going. Or do you?

He had warned me there would be complications. I'd told Him to hush, I knew what I was doing—well, more than the first go around—so there was less of a chance of me fucking everything up than before.

He had said it was foolish to risk everything for the chance to fix one thing, and yet this one thing I wished to fix needed to be fixed to save...

Save what?

This must be one of the complications he had warned me about.

It was going to be pretty hard to fix anything if I couldn't remember what I was trying to do. I just had to...I just...

Who am I again...?

~*~

~*~

«Our covenant yet remains, champion of Hydaelyn.»

The effort it took to open one eye was monumental. The large, mirror-like eyes of a dragon pup greeted me upon success. The pup's tiny triangular snout dipped and its long, fin-like ears flicked as it inspected my face. Then it blew purple fire at me.

“Gah!” I said, jerking my head sideways. Both my eyes popped open, the ice encrusting them melting away under the fiery onslaught. “What the?! What was that for?”

«Rise, mortal, ere thou joineth the dead in these frozen wastelands.»

I sat up, dislodging the pup. “I'm in a snowdrift,” I said. “Why...?” I squinted at the pup, who perched on my knee and looked expectant. I knew this little guy and that deep, menacingly slow-paced voice talking to me. “Mid...Midgardsormr...?” Wind whistled in my ears. The very air was ice. It hurt to breathe. The dragon pup, Midgardsormr, crawled up my arm to sit on my shoulder. “What happened?” I asked.

«A choice hath been made and the price paid,» replied Midgardsormr. «Thou lieth within the embrace of Abalathia's Spine, betwixt two sides of a war once quelled but now rageth as before.»

I looked down at myself. My clothes weren't exactly winter-worthy, but I wouldn't freeze in the next two minutes either. Abalathia's Spine sounded familiar. I wanted to say...Coerthas? “What price?”

«Knowest thou of thy choice?» Midgardsormr asked. He sounded almost perturbed.

I stood and tried to find a landmark. There was a strange sort of castle in the distance that appeared to be mostly unattached to the rest of the world. The rest was mountains and snow. “I don't remember,” I said. “I don't...I know who you are but I can't remember my name.”

Midgardsormr was silent. I needed to avoid death by deep freeze, so I started walking along the lowest part of the terrain. A weight clanking on my back prompted me to look back. Ah, my axe. That was also familiar to me, much like my scaly companion.

«This life thou hast lived ere our arrival here,» Midgardsormr said at last. «Events long past led to a break in thy soul, and though thy strength carried this star for a time, the break soon split thy soul in two. To save the world, we must save the soul that split. The choice thus made, we traveled to the time before the injury was done and came to rest here.»

I stopped. “Wait a second,” I said. “You're telling me my soul split in two because of something and we went into the past to fix it? That's crazy! And you went along with this idea?”

«Thy strength is beyond comprehension, champion of Hydaelyn,» replied the pup, «yet like a diamond wont to shatter when struck upon the correct point, thy heart was pierced and the damage left to fester.»

“I don't see how that justifies the two of us going back in time,” I said. “You shouldn't mess with time. Bad things happen.”

«Thy reluctance is familiar,» Midgardsormr said. «This was the last resort. Know that I would not have allowed it if it were not all we had left.» He flicked his tail against my shoulder and stretched his neck out to point off to the right. «This way, mortal. The sons of Ishgard know not thy face, for thy deeds were erased upon our coming. Tread carefully, and do not make conversation with me around others.»

I kind of remembered that bit about our relationship. He was invisible...imperceptible? to everyone else. I vaguely recalled he could show himself if he wanted, but the details of how I came to know this escaped me. It did assure me that I was not, in fact, crazy enough to hallucinate baby dragons talking in bass voices. “What exactly split my soul? Since I need to prevent that to justify this little trip into history.”

«What destroyed it then will not now,» he said.

I rolled my eyes, exasperated, and started toiling towards civilization again. “So the world's saved already? Yay!”

«Thy flippancy is ill-advised. A powerful bond forged was destroyed in moments.»

I frowned. “So...someone close to me died...and that broke me?”

«As a wyrm breathes as one with their consort, so did thee with thine. With it, an inextinguishable light shone. Yet with the destruction of the bond, the light darkened with bitterness.»

“And if I don't ever have this bond in the first place?”

«Two shall ever be greater than one. That strength is needed, champion. Alone, the balance tips towards Darkness slowly but surely.»

Oh man, this was rich. “Saved by the power of love,” I said. “Come on, Midgardsormr. This isn't a romance novel. Surely there's more to it than that.”

«Thou shalt see in time,» he said. «Enough. I tire of pointless chatter.»

“Before you go, could you at least tell me what my name is?” I asked.

«If thou canst recall such information without help, we are lost,» he said, and fell silent.

He had a point. I spent the rest of time thinking about what I knew of myself. I was twenty-nine...thirty? No, twenty-nine. Or was I twenty-eight? Female. Dark hair, white eyes, pale skin. On the short side. Marauder—no, I was a warrior. I was from...Limsa Lominsa. No, I wasn't from there, but I usually stayed there. I wasn't a pirate. I could have been, though. I knew a lot of pirates. My name was on the tip of my tongue. Ammmm...nope, lost it.

“Midgardsormr, are we friends?” I asked.

His tail slapped my shoulder blade. I got the impression he was surprised by the question. «After a fashion,» he said. «The covenant binds me to thee, yet I do not find thy company intolerable. Thy life is but a mere thread in the long tapestry of existence, but I will never forget thee.»

I smiled. “I guess that's a yes. Sorry if you mourn me too much when I die of old age and all, but I'm still glad we're friends.”

«I will not mourn. It is the nature of mortals to die.»

“So it is.” I noticed some sort of brick edifice poking out of the snow ahead and walked faster. The wind picked up just as I arrived at the door to a strange circular building. I knocked.

The person who opened the door was well over a fulm taller than me, with pointy ears and silvery blue hair. He looked down at me and said, “An adventurer? Do you seek shelter?”

I nodded. He let me in and put his shoulder to the door to close it against the now howling wind. Inside, several other similarly tall and pointy-eared men sat at a table playing some sort of card game. The lone man not wearing chainmail smiled politely at me. He had a wool shirt trimmed with white ruffles and a hat with a big feather across the front. Though the other men in the room had bony, refined faces, his was something of a baby face, with rounder cheeks and a perpetual innocent look. I wondered if I knew him. “Ah, another adventurer,” he said. “Seeking work at Camp Dragonhead, I presume? I fear the blizzard that has just arrived will delay you, rather. What's your name?”

My name came out of my mouth reflexively. “Ameme,” I said. Oh yeah...My name was Ameme Ame. What a weird name.

“Well met, Ameme. I am Lord Francel of House Haillenarte and this is Skyfire Locks,” he said, waving around the room.

“Is Camp Dragonhead far?” I asked.

“Not terribly, but the storm outside...”

Welp, back out it was. “To the north?” I asked, just to be sure I was remembering correctly.

Francel looked concerned. “Surely you can't be thinking of traveling in that...!”

“I'll be fine,” I said. “Just a few minutes inside to warm up and I'll be off.” I seated myself by the rather weak fire and held my hands near the heat. Much better. When I had feeling back in everything, I cracked the door open and slid outside. It didn't want to shut thanks to the wind, but I got it firmly closed and started north.

Skyfire Locks had several buildings on the way to Camp Dragonhead, but they were not very far apart and the blizzard wasn't terrible enough to make me seek shelter every three paces yet. It had crept north as well, but I outpaced it before long and discovered I was on a real, honest-to-goodness road leading to a huge fortified outpost. I made it to about shouting distance of the gates of the outpost when a massive shape hurtled past me, howling like a banshee and waving noodle-like arms. The frost-covered goobbue, a giant block of a creature with a mouth able to swallow three adults whole, charged the gates.

“Great,” I muttered as the outpost guards raced to stop the rampaging goobbue. I unholstered my axe and ran. “Hyaah!!” I shouted, slamming the blade into the goobbue's back. It went through like a hot knife through butter, forcing me to carry my strike until I hit the ground. The goobbue staggered to a stop and, rather to my surprise, fell in two pieces. I hadn't realized I was that strong.

Between the two halves of the goobbue, I saw a group of men looking like they'd been prepared to be squashed, only to be disappointed. The one in front, another pointy-eared man with silver hair like the one who'd let me into Skyfire Locks, mouthed, “Wow!” at me and started grinning. Very dramatically, he pointed behind me. “To arms!” he shouted. “There are more!”

I whipped around to see a veritable army of crazed goobbues, their noodle arms flapping wildly as they rushed the outpost. This was getting better and better. I went to meet them, several other armed men on my heels. They weren't exactly strong, but there were a lot of them all over the place. We were at it for a good twenty minutes killing the lot, mostly because I was the only one who could dispatch them in a single hit and had to do a lot of running around to keep the rest of the men from being crushed. By the time the goobbues quit appearing out of the blizzard, I was starting to feel the burn in my legs. We withdrew to the outpost. I stuck by the gates since just walking in didn't feel right.

“What got into them?” grumbled the gate guard. “You there—the one with the axe. What's your name?”

“Ameme,” I said.

“An adventurer, eh,” he said. “Thank you for your assistance. I've never seen anyone cleave a goobbue in two like that before. Looking for work?” I nodded. “Excellent. We could use someone like you. Lord Haurchefant is—” He stopped and nodded deferentially to the silver-haired man who had just walked up. “Lord Haurchefant, I was just speaking to the adventurer who helped us. She is wanting for employment.”

Haurchefant turned out to be one of those enthusiastic types who gestured a lot when excited. “I saw, I saw! That was magnificent, my friend!” he cried. “To think there are women like you in the world who can bring down a goobbue in a single stroke! My heart skipped a beat when the beast fell in two to reveal your most gallant figure standing behind. Indeed, there is work aplenty for those such as yourself.” He waved to a building not far inside the outpost. “Come, warm yourself by our hearth. We can discuss terms of employment inside. Oh, Ser Hourefaut, if you could...” He started chatting with the gate guard. Figuring him for a talkative sort, I shrugged and entered the building he'd indicated without him.

The building consisted of two stories, with the first story devoted to a single large room furnished with a few chairs, a large table covered in maps and figurines of dragons and knights, a desk and office space in the back, and a large fireplace along the side. Three men exercised shirtless in one corner while a rather motley-looking group of men and women occupied the chairs in another. The biggest of the motley group waved me over, calling, “Oi! Oi, newbie! Over here!”

One of the women, who had cat ears and a tail, said, “Another new face! Welcome to Camp Dragonhead, newbie. They might all be Ishgardians but they're the friendly sort.”

The one who had called me over snorted. “Friendly? Bit more than that, some of 'em. The pay's good, though.”

“Oh, psh,” said the other woman of the group, a freckled brunette with large green eyes. “If ye can't handle Haurchefant staring at yer arse every now and then, ye don't belong here. Not like he does anything, anyway. He's all talk.”

“I think he's nice,” said the cat woman. What was she again...? Miqo'te? That was it. Weren't they more of a warm-weather sort? “At least he's more of an equal opportunity ogler. So what's your name, newbie?”

I was going to be introducing myself a lot, wasn't I? “Ameme.”

The Miqo'te woman beamed. “Nice to meet you! I'm G'buloleh, but everyone calls me Goobbue. The Roe is Moonlight River and my rough-n-tumble Hyur friend here is Essenta. Our silent Elezen companion is Soluvrian. Don't mind him, he's not much of a talker.”

Roe? Oh, Roegadyn. I recalled the names for the various types now. Moonlight River raised a hand in greeting, while Essenta and Soluvrain simply nodded. Soluvrain had his hood up, so all I could see of his face was a flash of red-brown hair and a stern mouth.

“Our new friend here don't seem to be much of a talker herself,” Essenta observed.

Moonlight River decided to continue the conversation about Haurchefant. “You only think he's nice because he doesn't mind when you trip and crash into him!” he told Goobbue.

Goobbue's tail flicked. “He's perfectly kind outside of that! Besides, I thought you liked it when someone complimented your muscles.”

“Not when it's a—hello, Lord Haurchefant. What was the commotion outside?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the man in question as he entered. Haurchefant shut the doors behind himself and dusted the snow off his head. “An army of goobbues—and not the bardic variety, either!” Haurchefant said, smiling at the Miqo'te woman. “I see you've met the hero of the hour already. She split the goobbues in twain as though it were nothing.”

“Really? Ooo, she didn't mention that!” Goobbue leaned forward, interested.

“Not that we gave her a chance,” Essenta noted. “So, Ameme, anything else you'd care to divulge?”

Everyone waited a beat as though they expected me to actually say something. I shrugged. Haurchefant said, “So your name is Ameme, is it? Come, come, let us discuss the terms of your employment.” He led me to the desk in the back and sat in the high-backed chair. As I shifted in front of the desk, he fetched out a sheet of paper and started filling it with beautiful calligraphy. The man's penmanship was gorgeous. “Hmm...you have demonstrated your ability to wield your axe most effectively, but is there aught else you would like to do?” he asked as he wrote.

If there was something else I could do, hell if I remembered. I shook my head.

“Very well, then. Standard pay for a week's worth of work is one thousand gil, not including pay for any extra work you choose to undertake. You also receive a standard sleeping mat and two meals a day. Does this sound fair to you?”

“What sort of work would I be doing?” I asked.

Haurchefant stared at me. I wondered if I had said something wrong, but then he blinked and said, “Oh, fairly standard work for an adventurer—escorting porters, fetching or chopping firewood, things of that nature. Though after what I have seen you do, I may ask you to undertake more dangerous tasks! Nothing as difficult as fighting dragons, of course, but there are many dangers here in Coerthas.”

“Dragons?” I thought of Midgardsormr.

“Yes, the Dravanian horde is a constant threat here,” Haurchefant said. “Outsiders are not expected to assist in any capacity so you needn't worry about getting involved. Should you come to be threatened by a dragon during your duties, we would not be ungrateful if you choose to dispatch it, of course. Ah, and you receive no extra pay for fighting them...I suppose that is something to keep in mind as well.”

“Seems like that might get more dragons killed if you did,” I said.

He shook his head. “It has been tried and we have discovered the skill levels of adventurers far too variable to make it standard practice. Now we actively discourage it, in fact. You can read, I take it? Excellent. Pray look over the document to ensure it is to your liking before you sign at the bottom.”

I took the paper and read it. 'The undersigned hereby agrees to render select services (resource gathering, escort, hunting) in exchange for a weekly stipend of 1,000 gil...'

He really did have the most beautiful handwriting. It was cursive with lots of pretty loops, all regularly sized and at a precise angle. I signed at the bottom with letters that looked like they'd just gotten out of a bar after a full night's drinking.

Haurchefant set the signed document aside and beamed at me. “I look forward to seeing your skills in action,” he said, sounding as though he meant it.

[the-whims-of-fate]

A Sunrise After 1001 Nights (Chapter 1)

Under normal circumstances, my confidence in my writing abilities (or lack thereof) would only really allow me to write Headcanon Posts and things like that. However, after reading a certain FilthyFateConfessions Post and some gushing in Discord over Servants who deserve the world and then some, I decided to begin writing this fanfic. As such, I thought it’d be appropriate to at least release one chapter considering what day it is. If you guys like it, hate it, or have any sort of comments to make, please send them in. In the meantime, enjoy :)

Once more, the blinding light of the Servant Summon faded. By now, you were somewhat used to it. You had summoned countless Servants throughout your time spent in Chaldea. However there was always that initial flash that caught you somewhat off guard.

Before the light faded completely, a voice called out to you, one that didn’t belong to any servant that had already occupied Chaldea.

“My name is Scheherazade.” A figure emerged from the blinding light, a rather skimpy white and blue outfit clung to her richly toned skin, while a staff with a lantern at the head was held in one hand and a sealed scroll in the other. Her words were oddly clear through the veil that covered the majority of her face. “If you but listen to my one wish, I shall serve you forever as though you were my king”.

In that moment, you were taken aback by the sight before you many times over. “What’s going on?” “King? Hardly any of the other Servants were so forward initially?” “Why does her outfit cover so little? Should I grab her a blanket or something?” These were only a few of the many questions that had begun bouncing around your head after an alarmingly short amount of time.

“You are my master, correct?”

The soft voice of the newly summoned Servant cut off your already derailed train of thought. After taking a moment to correct yourself, you addressed her, thanking the Throne of Heroes that the veil made it easier to maintain eye contact. “Yeah. Sorry about that. My name is Gudao.” Quickly taking note of the politeness in her speech, you extended your hand in greeting, attempting to follow suit. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

She hesitated initially, but after what you could only guess was her having realized the genuineness of your greeting, she returned the gesture. Immediately you could feel the warm sensation that her touch provided, yet at the same time you could feel an ever so slight trembling. “Is she afraid?” The thought had briefly crossed your mind before you realized that the handshake had begun to last slightly longer than many would probably be comfortable with.

“Anyway,” you began, finally breaking the handshake, “There’s no real need to be very formal here. I’ll explain why during the tour.”

“Tour?” Her voice conveying any confusion that her veil attempted to hide.

You nodded as you opened the door of the Summoning Room. With the mindset that it would be easier to show rather than tell, you led her into the halls of Chaldea.

To say that Scheherazade was caught off guard by all the Servants they passed was an understatement, not that this was very surprising. Chaldea was likely the first instance where more than 7 Servants were summoned at once outside of the fourteen that took part in The Great Holy Grail War, yet she had been greeted by at least that many Servants within the first ten minutes of the tour. Thankfully, she was largely welcomed with open arms by the initial greeting party of Jeanne, Marie, Nitocris, and several others. Blackbeard almost got a word in, but found himself on the receiving end of a boot to the rear from Drake before any sort of comment was made, which you made a mental note to thank her for later.

Eventually, the crowd dissipated. It was nice to see so many people welcome the Caster with such enthusiasm. Yet, despite all of that, you couldn’t help but notice the traces of discomfort that her veil failed to hide. “I take it it’s a lot to process at once, huh?”

“Yes,” Scheherazade admitted. “I’m used to seeing other Servants as enemies, but… Never did I expect them to be so welcoming of me.”

“That makes sense,” you replied. “While I admit that there are a lot of Servants here, I feel like this place has become more of a community than anything else. Granted, we have our occasional disputes from time to time, but largely everyone gets along just fine.”

The storyteller nodded. You weren’t sure how effective your words were at easing her discomfort, but you could see that at least some of the worry had departed from her expression. “Everything at its own pace, I guess.”

By now you had given everyone a rough tour of the facility, so your explanations had become somewhat streamlined over the time spent here, so with the gaps of time between rooms you decided to ask the Caster about something that had begun to nag at you since the summon.

“If you don’t mind my asking, you said you had a wish that you wanted granted. Is there by chance anything I can do to help or is this something for the Holy Grail to fulfill?”

Immediately her expression, or what you could see of it given the veil, changed from that of curiosity for the situation that she was brought into, to what you could only describe as a sense of eagerness. Like she just remembered an extremely vital piece of information. “Indeed. While I’m unsure if the Grail will be necessary for it given the circumstances, my only wish is that I may live.”

“As in reincarnation? Because while you’re certainly able to maintain your physical form for however long you want while you’re here, I’d probably need to use a Grail to fully reincarnate you.”

“Not necessarily,” she replied. “I am the author of what you may know as the One Thousand and One Nights. While the stories themselves have gained enough fame for me to become a Servant, I originally wrote them as a means to save myself and my sister from our king. And so, my only wish is that my life would be spared.”

Immediately you paused. There you stood, in the middle of the hall with the realization of the potential wounds you opened up, and towards a newly summoned Servant no less. Scheherazade had only taken a couple steps before turning around, realizing that you had stopped.

“I’m really sorry,” you blurted out. “I should be used to talking to Servants by now, but here I am asking about things I have no right to pry into.”

Your eyes had closed as though to anticipate anything from hurt or anger in her reply, but a warm hand on your shoulder prompted you to open them. The storyteller was standing before you, the veil on her face faintly outlining a smile. “Do not worry. You’re my master. It is only fair to want to know more about me, even if the details aren’t very cheerful.”

Her words sent waves of reassurance through you, as if to replace any sort of lingering guilt within you. “Alright. Let’s continue then. The only two places that should be left are the newly appointed ‘Media Room’, aka ‘Doctor Romani’s Netflix Hideaway’, and my own room.”

Not even thirty feet away from the Media Room, a booming voice erupted from within. “Come now, Goldy!!! Why must you be such a poor sport?!?”

“As I have told you before, the matter lies in that your controller has a much different arrangement than my own. As such, it can hardly be called a fair competition with you using that hulking thing in your lap to control your character while I am forced to use a common remote.”

Hearing the two Servant’s bicker in the nearby room made it plainly obvious who was present within, but realizing the potential powderkeg that their unattended interactions tended to become, you quickened your pace. “I know I said he could use my console during his times off, but why did he have to play with Gilgamesh of all people?”

Sure enough, when you opened the door, there sat Iskandar and Gilgamesh, mid-argument, their forms silhouetted by the light of the TV Screen. “Geez you two. At the very least you could’ve turned on the lights” you interrupted, desperate to say something, anything, to momentarily distract them from their competitive streaks. As you flipped the switch, both the light in the room and the metaphorical light bulb above their heads lit up.

“Young Gudao!!!” the King of Conquerors exclaimed excitedly. “Join us. We just finished a match in this Street Fighter game that that Romani fellow recommended. Besides, Goldy doesn’t sound like he wants to play much more anyway.”

Gilgamesh scoffed. “This controller of mine has too many small buttons. Not only does this fool have a larger controller, but the buttons are arranged much more conveniently.”

“You don’t say,” you began, the sarcasm in your voice almost tangible. “Even in a closed room, the two of you have an uncanny ability to make your presences known. I’m just glad I got here before weapons were drawn...”

“Come now,” Iskandar reassured. “We would never have gone that far.” You could only shake your head at this, knowing full well that they definitely would have.

Keeping in mind that the two of these heroes could bring down the entirety of Chaldea if they fought, you decided that the best course of action would be to at least try to sort this out. With a somewhat exasperated sigh, you turned to the Archer. “Gilgamesh, you’re right that Iskandar’s controller makes the game easier for him, but look at him.” You gestured to his hulking frame and massive hands. “With his strength, he would crush a regular controller accidentally, and Waiver can vouch for me on that.”

The King of Heroes scoffed. He was pleased to hear that someone else agreed that he was right, but the fact that his master had also justified the actions of the other Servant left him feeling as though the words were empty. Meanwhile Iskandar let out a light chuckle at the last remark, likely thinking back to a situation similar to the one that you had just described.

“Here,” you began, taking the controller that Gilgamesh had set to the side. Immediately, you brought the game to the character select screen and put his cursor onto the Random Character Selection. “Both of you keep your characters set to ‘Random’. That way, no one knows the controls for or gets overly familiar with one character.”

“I suppose that works.”

“Very well. I can agree to those terms. By the way master. That woman by the doorway. How long does she intend to stay there?”

Turning around, you saw that Scheherazade had followed you to the room, but instead of entering, she had partially hidden herself, minus her head peeking out from the doorframe. “Um… Scheherazade? You can come in if you want.”

“Indeed!!! Please, join us!!!”

Hesitantly, Scheherazade moved out of her makeshift hiding spot and entered the room. However, after shuffling about three feet past the doorway, she stopped, her uneasiness clearly portrayed despite the veil.

“Actually, I just summoned her not too long ago and I thought I’d give her a small tour. Do you mind if we...”

“Ah, of course!!! Please, carry on. There will be plenty of time for games like these later. In the meantime, should you run into Waiver, ask if he’d stop by. We didn’t make much progress in our last game of Admirable Conquests and I was thinking it’d be good to make up for lost ground.”

“Hmph. Such is the way of the conqueror, I suppose,” Gilgamesh chuckled, his amusement in Iskandar’s behavior obvious.

“But of course!!!”

You nodded, offering a final wave as you exited the room. As you left, Scheherazade followed, her pace quickening. The last place left on the tour was your room, a fact that seemed to fill her with what you could only guess was relief. “Is everything okay? I understand not being comfortable around Gilgamesh. To be honest, none of us are a hundred percent comfortable around him, with the exception of Enkidu of course, but...”

“I’m sorry,” she began. “I should have told you earlier.” After taking a moment to fully compose herself, she continued. “Remember how I said that my stories were a means to save me and my sister? Well, I believe that has caused a warryness of kingly figures to be imprinted upon me as a Servant.”

Thinking about it now, that was probably the most likely explanation. Many Servants tend to hold closely to the behaviors portrayed in their legend, so something like that wouldn’t be too far fetched. Hoping to put her at ease to an extent, you began to put your thoughts to words. “If that’s the case, then maybe it’s just a matter of getting used to them, and even if it isn’t, there are plenty of non-kingly Servants here at Chaldea.”

Scheherazade nodded. You could tell, while not completely put at ease by your words, she at least saw the intention behind them. The rest of the walk was relatively quiet, with the exception of the occasional Servant stopping to greet them. When the two of you entered the empty dorm, the storyteller breathed what you could only guess was a sigh of relief.

“Note to self,” you began in a somewhat joking manner. “Find a way to make that tour either shorter or more interesting.”

“Oh, no. The tour was fine, Master,” Scheherazade began, her tone becoming increasingly apologetic. “It’s just that...” She paused for a moment, as though trying to find the right words. “Are you familiar with the saying ‘the right person for the right place’?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded, having heard similar phrases in the past and ultimately understanding this one’s meaning by comparison.

“Well… A warrior belongs on the battlefield. However, I believe that the bedside of my king, or in this case, the one to whom I am pledged is...”

In the resulting silence, you took a moment to think over her words, using all your willpower to avoid focusing on any sort of implications that may have arisen from her statement. “If you believe that this is the best place for you to be, then I can work with that. Bedivere was originally using the guest bed, but I don’t think he’d mind staying with the rest of the Knights of The Round Table. I do have a couple requests though.”

“Of course,” the Caster replied, taking a seat on the bed opposite of you. Her voice betrayed a hint of excitement at the news.

“The first request, I’m afraid, is somewhat non-negotiable,” you began. “I intended to bring this up during the tour, but I got understandably distracted. The thing is that all Servants are required to spend at least a bit of time on missions on the field. It’s something of a fairness measure in order to avoid favoritism.”

Scheherazade’s excitement began to shift into a look of worry, but you wouldn’t let it stay that way for long.

“However, given your circumstances, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you don’t have to lift so much as a finger. The “system” requires you to be present at these battles, but if I put together a suitable group to manage the combat, you can stay with me at the rear. We also have a system in place for strengthening Servants, so should that even prove to be not enough, you’ll be able to hold your own more effectively. Then once that’s done, you’ll never have to go on another mission for however long our contract binds us.”

The storyteller, while not completely reassured, visibly displayed an at least partial alleviation of her worry. “I am your Servant. As such, if you believe that this is the best course of action, and as long as you do not seek to kill me, then I will follow you… my king.”

That last part was just barely a whisper, but you could still grasp its meaning. However, you chose to put that thought to the side for the time being, as there was one more thing you wished to ask her.

“My second and final request should be a bit easier. While I have agreed that you can stay with me here, I don’t want you to isolate yourself. It doesn’t have to be much, but please spend some time out and about around Chaldea. Like I said earlier, this place has become more of a community than I think many would’ve thought it could, and I think you might grow to like it if you gave yourself the chance to.”

Scheherazade nodded. It was easy for her to see that this wasn’t a formality or a requirement for her. Rather, her master was looking out for her own well being. “Very well.”

Satisfied with her reply, you laid back in your bed. However, it wasn’t long before you realized that you had made a crucial error. “Oh crap!! I need to find Bedivere. I mean, I feel like he’d understand, but if he had come back before I explained the situation to him, I can only imagine how rude he would’ve thought all of this was.” You leapt from your bed to the door with surprising speed, but stopped just as quickly when you remembered your guest.

Before you could get a word out, Scheherazade spoke, as if anticipating your intentions. “Go ahead. I’d like to take a bit to better acclimate myself to this place, especially if I wish to stay here.” You wanted to argue with her, but you quickly remembered the rush you were in and left the Caster to her own devices.

With a moment of peace now hers, Scheherazade began to look through her scrolls to find a suitable story for her new master. As she did this, she offered a silent prayer in thanks to whatever deity was listening for her newfound circumstances and for her kind new Master.

Meanwhile, Ishtar, who just happened to be a couple rooms away at the time, let out a quiet sneeze.

[theladyofdeath]

The Ghost of Terrasen {Ch 1}

Author’s Note: My newest fanfic, including all characters from Sarah J Maas’ Throne of Glass series, but will revolve mainly around Lysandra and Aedion. I am excited for this one, and have big plans I think you all will enjoy! Let me know what you think.

Warning: Will include dramatic elements, such as sex, death, blood, alcohol, references to mental illnesses, etc. Keep in mind this is a murder mystery, and is suited for mature readers.

Click here to read the intro/teaser.

“Lysandra.” 

The sound of my name was a breath of fresh air. It sounded like a secret, like a provocative sensation that was demanding to be felt when it came from his lips.

“Well, Lysandra, may I take you out this Friday night?”

I didn’t answer at first. He was two years older than me. I was a sophomore, and a friend of his cousin on top of that. It didn’t sound like a good idea. Aelin. I needed to ask Aelin.

“Your silence is killing my confidence,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling. 

He was handsome. He was kind. He seemed genuine. What did I have to lose?

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll be ready at seven.”

Walking was easier than it used to be.

As a member of the walking dead, I didn’t feel breathless, even though I had already strutted eight blocks down Monroe Avenue. My muscles were not growing weary, and perspiration did not present itself. I simply walked with an eerie stillness, even though my feet hit the concrete, one foot in front of the other in steady determination.

The police station sat on the corner across from a convenient store that was attached to a local café – a café in which I had gone in a thousand times to grab a chicken club with a side of Emrys’ homemade baked potato soup to go. It was Aedion’s favorite combination from Mistward, the hole in the wall, and I loved nothing more than to bring it to him at work when he was least expecting it.

I wished I could bring it to him then.

Instead, not bothering to open the glass door that read East Terrasen Police Department, I entered the station and instantly began my search. Officers walked around diligently, tending to their work as they did so.

I didn’t see him in the front room, so I hurried my way through the maze of desks and hallways until I reached the corner where his small, plain desk sat. Expecting to find him sitting there, disappointment flooded me when I found that he wasn’t.

The only belonging that marked the desk as his was the picture of us from my junior prom last year, sitting together on the hilltop outside of school after one too many secret shots of tequila. Aelin took the picture, getting the whole city lit up behind us.

Probably not the best photo to have displayed as a police officer, which was probably why he had it sitting in plain sight for everyone to see. 

A sudden ache filled my chest, just as I heard his voice.

The blinds to the meeting room were open, and although it had only been a week, Aedion did not look like the Aedion I had loved. Heavy black circles had grown beneath his eyes, the turquoise and gold that were usually lit with excitement and rebellion had dulled.

“You don’t understand!” he yelled at Gavriel, his father, his boss. The Chief.

I hadn’t realized I was gravitating toward him until I lifted my hand, and it went right through his arm. He didn’t even flinch.

“I do understand, Aedion, and I’m trying my best. We all are.” Gavriel did not look much older than Aedion, especially not in his son’s current condition. The thirty-six-year-old looked even younger than he was, having Aedion when he was only sixteen. Aedion looked just like his father, except for the eyes. It was the one thing he got from his mom, and the only thing he had to remember her by. He continued in his calm, steady voice, “You were not the only one who cared for her in this town.”

“Don’t talk about her like she’s –“ he stopped, and shook his head. “She’s alive. I can feel it.”

Gavriel bit his lip. “Aedion –“

“I can feel it,” he snapped.

My fingers grazed his stubbled cheek, sorrow consuming my entire being. His eyes began to water as he looked away from his father, and if I knew Aedion, which I did, I knew he hated the look of pity he was being given. I couldn’t blame Gavriel, though. Even Aedion’s uniform was wrinkled.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, and for a moment, I thought he had heard me. His eyes found mine, but they didn’t focus. He couldn’t see me. I wasn’t real. I wasn’t there. I was a ghost.

“Please,” Aedion began, pleadingly. “Please let me just gather a search party-“

“We already have search parties –“

“None in the western woods!”

The two stared at each other, looking more like brothers than father and son. I stood in between them, glancing back and forth between the pair.

“There are beasts in the western woods that could tear through every member of this force,” Gavriel replied, calmly. “People that go for a stroll through the western woods do not often return.”

“Exactly. That’s even more of a reason to –“

“No,” Gavriel cut him off. “Don’t ask me again.”

And with that, he was gone. I watched him leave. My eyes traveled after him as he slammed the door, rattling the glass, and rushed around the corner.

He just cares about you, I wanted to tell Aedion. He doesn’t want to lose you, too.

Aedion wasn’t thinking about that, though. He grabbed a coffee mug off the table and threw it at the wall, glass shattering and black coffee splattering on the white walls. He screamed, a low, shriveled sound. It was the sound of agony. Pure, loathing agony.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as a sob shook his body, as he pressed his palms against the wall and hung his head. His hair was down, hanging past his shoulders, which was unusual. He looked as if he hadn’t looked in a mirror in days. He looked as if he didn’t care. He looked as if he cared too much. “I’m sorry, Lys, I’m so sorry.”

Although I knew he couldn’t feel it, I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my forehead against his back. My lips pressed softly in between his shoulder blades, just as they had a hundred times before.

“Give me a sign she’s still here,” he pleaded, to whichever higher power was listening. “Please, just a small one. I need a sign. Any sign. Any sign.”

“I’m still here,” I reassured him, although I wasn’t even sure that was true. “I’m still here.”

He took a deep breath, and recollected himself before pushing off the wall. “Get it together, Ashryver.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered all the times I had heard him say that phrase: before a game, before his test to graduate from the police academy, before a date.

Before stripping me down and kissing every inch of my body.

Although, then it was a joke. Now, it seemed to be his current motto. 

Aedion wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and slapped his cheeks a few times, before opening the door and shutting it with a soft click. He pulled back his shoulder length, golden hair as he owned the hallways that led him to the front office, then into the sunny, cloudless Terrasen afternoon.

“Ready, Ashryver?” Dorian asked, leaning against their patrol car with his arms crossed.

Aedion had never liked Dorian in school, even though he was a close friend of Aelin’s. But, since they both joined the police force right after graduation, and became partners, the two had grown close. Dorian watched my boyfriend wistfully as he approached, as if he knew what had just occurred.

“Always,” Aedion replied with a sigh, opening the passenger side door.

“Did he approve?”

Aedion didn’t look at him as he shook his head. “I don’t care, though. I’m going.”

No. No, no, no. I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze some sense into him.

“You’re going?” Dorian raised his eyebrows, his voice hushed. “To the western woods? Alone? Aed –“

“Before you tell me it’s a bad idea,” Aedion interrupted, closing himself in the patrol car, “I already know. I have a feeling, though.”

“Those woods go on for miles,” Dorian argued. “There’s no way –“

“I’ll go every day if I have to.”

A moment of silence consumed us as I counted on Dorian to change his mind. Bad idea! It’s a horrible idea! Dammit, Aedion!

Dorian closed the driver’s side door, and stared straight ahead as he replied, “You’re not going alone.”

Idiots. Both of you.

Aedion remained silent.

“We’re off tomorrow,” Dorian continued. “I’ll get Chaol and Rowan to join.”

Aedion shook his head. “No, the girls will want to come.”

“Let them,” Dorian shrugged. “Just give them a weapon.”

“Are you kidding me?” I yelled, hoping through some supernatural nonsense that if I raised my voice they’d be able to hear me.

“Fine,” Aedion agreed, letting loose a long, deep breath. “Fine.”

“Uh, no, it’s not fine,” I rolled my eyes. “What if I’m not there? What if you’re risking your lives for no reason?”

But, what if I was there? What if Aedion’s hunch was right? What if they found me, and I was still alive? What if I was still there because I wasn’t dead, but I was stuck in between? What if….

Rubbing my temples, I let out a loud groan. I wouldn’t think about the what-ifs. Aedion was going to find me, I was sure of it. They all would. Aedion, Dorian, Aelin, Manon, Rowan, Chaol. They were coming for me.

I wished I could help them. I wished I could tell them where I was. I wished I could tell them I was okay.

But I didn’t know anything. The only thing I was sure of was that I was definitely not okay.

So, I do want to confirm that chapters will typically be longer than this. I hope you enjoyed and am as excited about this story as I am! Let me know what you thought. :)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @southern-by-gods-mercy @gcarroll @inejcalmarekaz @high-lady-of-perranth