#if scout for some reason asked sniper i can see sniper getting confused then suspicious

[oldkamelle]

scout gets sweater hand me downs from heavy, and (t)shirts from engie

[thetriggeredhappy]

How about the team agreeing to play baseball with Scout for his birthday? Because they always admired how happy and free he looks when he's running. (SniperScout in between if possible would be great)

pushed up in the requests backlog for reasons. team bonding fic is best fic

(warnings for alcohol mention and passing non-graphic cartoonish violence)

-

“The hell is he so excited about?” Demo asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing over his shoulder towards where Scout was laughing his way down the hall.

“No idea,” the Engineer said, shuffling the deck neatly. “Been all high-energy high-spirits the whole damn day.”

“Unfortunately,” Medic agreed, a little bitter. That garnered several more raised eyebrows from around the table.

“Twice in one day Doktor has to fix broken leg in fighting,” Heavy explained, placing a placating hand on Medic’s shoulder. “And Scout takes many bad risks. Overconfident.”

A questioning noise from within Pyro’s suit. “I’d sure like to know why, as well,” Engie nodded. “Tryin’ out some new energy drink, maybe?”

“High spirits and hubris from consistent victory?” Soldier suggested.

“You’re joking,” Sniper suddenly cut in, glancing around the table, who all looked right back, surprised to hear him cutting in on the usual gossip. “...You lot really didn’t remember?”

A snort from Spy, a vague shrug from the rest of the table.

“It’s his birthday tomorrow.”

A pause, then noises of surprise, shock, and from some of the table, alarm. “A repeat of last year, how very unfortunate,” Spy hummed, taking a sip of his drink.

Pyro shouted something with no small amount of conviction that might have been along the lines of “this is terrible!”. Demo seemed to agree, from the shock on his face, the widening of his eye.

“Oh no,” Heavy rumbled, looking legitimately worried. Medic’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“I can’t believe you,” Sniper deadpanned, glaring at all the other mercenaries sitting there. “First year, you don’t bother wishing him a happy birthday. Second year, he plans a whole damn party for himself so you lot wouldn’t forget again and half of you don’t plan ahead and we get scheduled out on a mission and leave the bugger all alone all weekend. And you promise you won’t forget again. And one year later, here we are.”

Pyro appeared to be in a state of panic, pacing at high speed behind their chair, tugging at various points of their suit in high agitation. The Engineer’s face was largely hidden behind the hardhat and goggles and the hand clamped over the bottom part of his face.

“Perhaps he won’t be upset,” Medic suggested. “We all simply wish him a happy birthday and have drinks.”

“We do that every other weekend,” Demo pointed out. Soldier murmured in the affirmative.

“Sniper has remembered,” Heavy noted, looking at the man in question. “Maybe team helps with plans?”

“I already got him a gift,” Sniper mumbled, fidgeting with his hat. “But I don’t think we’ll manage to pass it off as from the whole team.”

“He’s gonna be so disappointed if he finds out that we forgot again,” Engie sighed, head in his hands. “It’ll break his damn heart.”

“So once again, it seems that I’ll need to step in and save you all,” Spy drawled, putting his glass down and reaching into his jacket, pulling out and unfolding a sheet of paper. “With your collective track record regarding this specific event, I assumed you would all forget again, and so took some steps to ensure that there would be a backup plan when the event arises and we wouldn’t need to deal with moodiness and general malaise from the team for the next several weeks.”

The Engineer took the paper, holding it so Medic could read it at the same time as him, Heavy leaning to try and get a look. Eyebrows began to rise. The paper was passed around the remainder of the table.

“You think this’ll work?” Demo asked suspiciously.

“Obviously. Well, and to be fair, you don’t exactly have any other options.”

He had them there.

-

“—Just totally can’t believe you talked Miss P into lettin’ us do this that’s just the coolest shit in the world lemme tell ya, like seriously that’s completely nuts and I can’t even believe it, she’s the best—!“

Scout had only stopped talking long enough to breathe over the course of the entire walk from the base to the makeshift baseball pitch that the Engineer had propped up overnight, absolutely bubbling and more high-energy than any of them had assumed to even be possible—even for him. And most of them had anticipated already hating the idea by the time they got to the pitch, but so far things were actually going rather well. The uniforms that had been shipped in (in their team colors, obviously) all fit them correctly and weren’t nearly as embarrassing as expected, in particular since most of them opted to keep at least one part of their usual wardrobe in the mix, such as masks or helmets or hats. Pyro, for one, just put the baseball uniform on over their entire flamesuit, but nobody was particularly surprised.

They crested the little ridge and got a look at the pitch, and for a moment, Scout went silent, eyes wide and mouth agape. Demo elbowed the Engineer to get his attention and flashed a thumbs up, making him grin and fluster a bit, mumbling about how it was nothin’ special, really.

“Alright,” Scout finally said, turning to them with his hands on his hips, taking on an authoritative tone. “So who here knows how baseball works?”

The Engineer and Soldier raised their hands. After a moment, Sniper and Pyro tentatively did the same. Demo made a so-so motion with one hand.

“And who knows how sandlot baseball works?”

Everyone but the Engineer dropped their hands, and even then, he looked a little doubtful.

“Alright,” Scout said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “So we don’t exactly got enough people to make a real team—need twelve for a standard six-players-a-team. So we’re gonna be improvising a little bit.”

He looked around, and started addressing each of them with a pointed finger.

“Heavy,” he said, and the giant raised an eyebrow. “You’re catcher, all you gotta do is stay behind first base and catch the ball so it doesn’t roll away. I know you’re not gonna flinch when you see somethin’ speeding at your head, yeah?”

Heavy nodded thoughtfully.

“Cyclops, first base,” Scout said next. “Fucks with your blind spot the least, and you know how to throw shit. Mumbles, you’re on second, Helmet-Head on third.”

Demo flashed a thumbs-up, Pyro clapped their hands together, and Soldier raised an arm in a sturdy salute.

“Doc, right field. Odds are, none of these chuckleheads are gonna hit anything too far to the left or right of normal, but if they do, you’re like practically as fast as I am and can handle it. Spy, you hang out back there in left field. I know you’re probably not gonna catch shit if it comes at you, but hey, it’s worth a shot and you won’t gotta deal with much anyways.”

Medic nodded at the compliment and Spy raised an eyebrow at the insult.

“And Snipes, you’re the pitcher,” Scout concluded, hands returning to his hips.

There was a snort from Demo. Sniper elbowed him.

“Figured you know how to throw shit and won’t straight up brain anyone,” Scout continued, not noticing the squabble. “And I’ll be first up to bat, and we’ll cycle through everyone in that same order, starting as soon as you guys can stop me from running all the bases, then we’ll play normally from there, how’s that sound?”

“You’re sure talkin’ yourself a big game there, son,” the Engineer observed, eyebrows raised.

“Damn right, I’ve been playin’ this shit since I was three,” Scout said, grinning wide. “This is gonna kick ass.”

-

Indeed, the first eight pitches went by in pretty rapid succession. Two because they fumbled and hesitated and miscommunicated in their pitching and couldn’t beat him to the bases, two after that as Scout scored home runs, another general fumble, another home run, one where the ball landed a few feet away from Spy who outright didn’t attempt to catch it, only kicking it closer to Medic as he rushed up to get it, and then one where Scout didn’t notice until he was back at home base that Soldier had unintentionally thrown the ball directly into the side of Pyro’s head (who was distracted by drawing shapes into the dirt at their feet).

They just barely managed to get him out on third, and then it was Demo’s turn.

Overall, by the first circuit through the whole team, they were surprised to find that they were actually having fun, even and especially with the odd shenanigans that ensued during the course of the game. There was one point where Soldier full-body tackled Demo at first base (just slightly confused about a few of the contact rules), and another where Sniper thought it would be funny to throw a hard ball of clay from at his feet, sending the team laughing as it exploded all over Pyro’s suit and they needed to stop to wipe the lenses on their mask clear. Demo surprised all of them with the first bunt of the game, and the Engineer with sending the ball soaring nearly into a homerun, with him sheepishly asking if using the Gunslinger to swing was allowed after he’d already run the bases. Then there was Pyro calmly stealing their way to third after the team thought their turn was over, and Heavy accidentally cracking the bat, and Medic absolutely eating shit as he tried to take off towards first. And nobody for sure knew how to react to the one time that Spy actually caught the ball, all but diving to catch it and send it to second just in time to get Soldier out. And of course, all of them were left just slightly in awe as Scout sent home run after home run sailing towards the stratosphere.

They finally had to stop when it was getting dark and Heavy informed them that they didn’t have any more baseballs left in the bucket for all the ones sent sailing far foul or off into the distance with a homerun. Soldier and Demo promised to go pick them up the following day and they all began their trudge back to base, covered in the bright orange loam of the desert and already slightly sore and feeling like they were in much higher spirits than any of them had expected. Scout, most of all, seemed... contented. Not just cheerful, not just bubbly, but contented, satisfied. Happy. He seemed so very happy.

Several of them, glancing around between themselves, considered telling Scout the truth, that they hadn’t put in nearly as much work as he thought they did. But most of them just settled in for saying happy birthday a few more times over assorted bottles of booze and maybe even a movie.

Sniper, for one, was a little fidgety on the way back to base. Halfway there, he took Scout by the shoulder, pulling him to slow down just a bit.

“Had, er,” Sniper said once they were a good few meters trailed behind the team, eyes averted. “Heavy said we were out, but. Had, er. Had one ball left.”

He pulled the baseball in question out of his pocket, unfolded it from the handkerchief it was in, passed it over, a little sheepish. Scout took it, confused, turning it over in his hands.

He stopped dead in his tracks. The rest of the team slowed and turned as they realized two of their party weren’t with them. Scout’s mouth was agape.

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod ohmyGOD—“ Scout babbled suddenly, eyes widening, practically starting to vibrate in place. “—is this a real actual serious legitimate gen-u-ine real signature? Snipes please tell me you’re not fuckin’ around right now ohmyGOD.”

“Nah, yeah, from the actual bloke,” Sniper agreed, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yats-rem-key, something like?”

“Only just jersey number eight, left fielder for the Boston Red Sox, five-time All-Star four-time Gold Glove winner and three-time batting champion, Triple Crown winner and overall MVP in the entire American Major League of baseball, Carl Michael motherfuckin’ Yastrzemski!”

Sniper faltered under the sudden weight of the entirety of Scout as he was all but tackled in a hug, Scout continuing to babble excitedly on about the man whose signature was on the baseball in his hands. There was a general chuckle and rolling of eyes from the team as they watched the scene unfold.

“And we’re sure Sniper’s not the catcher, then?” Demo asked lightly, and with Sniper not there to elbow him, the Engineer took his place, making Demo snicker.

“If you would please cease embarrassing yourselves,” Spy called over after giving them a solid minute, which made Scout look up and apparently notice the entire team looking at them, flushing red and promptly trying to pretend he didn’t just do all that. “I believe that Heavy has prepared some kind of cake and I for one would rather not eat it after Pyro has covered it in candles and torched them all.”

Indeed, Pyro by then had a good head start on the team, who all hurried to catch up. And they all bumbled their way through at least five nationalities’ rendition of a Happy Birthday Song, and each very nearly got through their slice before the first scrap of the night began and the rest of it was lost in the mayhem, and overall, Scout would remark the next day through the haze of his hangover that actually, that was easily one of his favorite birthdays in a long time.

[fuckyeahscienceparty]

hey if ur taking requests for writing...., what abt angsty among us idea- reports a body and like.. engie attends and it turns out medic was killed? and then hes heartbroken and really sad and angry at spy for killing medic? obviously u dont have to do this but the among au had me thinking about a ton of angsty scenarios lol. have a good day!!

i'm always takin requests! it may take me a while to get there but i will try my damndest to get it done at some point!

i actually had part of this in my drafts when you originally sent this ask but it's been reason enough to finish it, i think. i hope you like it, even if it's a bit messy :>

-

Per Aspera Ad Astra

In which an imposter experiences the loss of someone he loved and wasn't supposed to.

-

As Dell heard the emergency meeting alarm blare over the intercom and red lights flashed overhead, he looked up from the mass of wires he'd agreed to rearrange for Medic, furrowing his brow.

Odd. Spy hadn't made it clear to him that he was going to attempt anything that day and he knew for a fact that he himself hadn't made any sabotages since last week.

Then again, he'd noticed that this crew in particular had no qualms against using the emergency meeting button for more trivial things. Someone probably just wanted to get everyone's attention to look at some weird space bug that hitchhiked from their last stop on Pollus a few weeks ago or something along those lines. Standard procedure at that point.

He packed up the wires he'd been holding back into their panel before making his way out of electrical and towards the cafeteria, readjusting his goggles over his eyes to make sure nobody would find him out.

When he'd arrived, he could practically physically feel the shift in attitude of the rest of the crew since that morning, mentally noting that Medic was currently the only one of them missing.

"Tex, there you are. You uh. Might want to sit down for this one, lad," Demo said gravely, all the other crewmates' mumbling amongst each other dying down instantly as Spy stood to the side of the table, having said nothing ever since he himeself had arrived.

"Uhm. Sure, ok. Shouldn't we wait for Doc first, though? If it's actually important he should probably be here," He said, a confused smile coming to his face. Demo physcially winced.

"See, that's the thing, it's. It's Doc, he's..." Demo trailed off, Sniper moving to put a hand on his shoulder.

"He's?..." Engie frowned, having to take a moment before he realized what he'd meant.

It took another moment for the dread to set in.

"No. No, that- that's impossible, I- I just saw him like 30 minutes ago. I agreed to do one of his tasks for him while he finished cleaning the medbay so we could finish up for the day," He stuttered, looking anxiously between all the other faces at the table. None of them could meet his gaze even through his goggles, Spy in particular insisting on staring out the large window that peered into the vastness of space around them instead.

...Spy.

Spy said he wouldn't touch him- said he'd let him find a way to deal with all of this effectively and without having to kill this particular crew. Especially Medic. He said- no, he promised he wouldn't.

Engie's anger soon started bubbling inside of him, tightly clenching his fists that he oh so desperately wanted to sucker punch a certain other imposter in the face with. But then came the second realization of what he'd done and he felt his arms go slack again.

Medic was dead.

"...Where is he?" He finally whispered out, somewhere between heartbroken and seething.

"Medbay. Demo, Sniper, and I called for the meeting as quick as we could and did not get the chance to move his. Corpse," Soldier said, standing up straight and visibly uneasy at the mentioning of Medic's dead body.

Engie slowly nodded.

"Ok. Did you fellas, uh. Did- did you contact Pollus yet?"

"Not yet. I was gonna after the meetin's over. 's gonna take us a while to get there tho, at least 2 weeks," Scout said.

"I see. Did you three uh. Did you see anything?" Engie asked Demo, Sniper, and Soldier, all of them shaking their heads.

"Pyro, Heavy, 'n Scout were on comms because they were finished with tasks already and all three of 'em say they didn't see anyone go into Medbay after you left."

"...what about you, Spy? Been awfully quiet the entire time. And you don't have an alibi," Scout squinted. Spy scoffed.

"I was also finished with tasks, I've been in my quarters for at least 2 hours. You can even roll back footage on the cameras."

Pyro pressed a button on their suit, the small speaker on their chest panel letting out a soft 'kshh'.

"...he does have a point. Cams don't lie."

"What if he used the vents, though?"

"You really think this pansy's gettin' in any vents?"

"...Aight, fair point."

"I do not think we have enough information to make decision," Heavy sighed, every looking to each other in a vague sense of agreement.

"Skip vote, then?"

"Yeah, I think that's for the best."

"Alright lads, be on alert, then. If you see anythin' suspicious, y' know where the button is," Demo sighed, patting the plastic cover that protected the emergency meeting button.

Everyone mumbled out affirmations before getting up to head out, Pyro staying behind to raise their hand.

"Ay, what is it, Py?"

Kshh. "...who's taking care of uh. Y'know. The body."

Engie squeezed his eyes shut briefly.

"I'll do it."

"Tex, no, we couldn't ask you t-"

"Demo, it's fine. I'm not a child, you don't need to baby me. I can deal with it."

"If you're so sure..."

"It's fine. Really. You go make sure everyone else is doin' ok, lord knows they'd need it," Engie smiled softly, giving Demo a pat on the arm.

Demo's eyes still showed worry but he nodded, reciprocating the gesture before hurrying into the direction of nav where everyone else went.

Spy turned to leave but Engie stopped him, shifting his goggles back to his forehead.

"...Why did you do it?" He asked softly. He could've sworn that he saw the slightest break of stoicism on Spy's face but perhaps it was just the awful fluorescent lighting of the cafeteria playing tricks on him.

"You were taking too long. It was getting risky for us to be here. I thought it better to end it sooner rather than later," He said, any trace of emotion leaving as quickly as it came as he turned his head. Engie had no response.

"Remember what they did to us. To you. Just because one treated you kindly does not mean others will."

Silence.

"...Don't sabotage anything tonight. They'll get suspicious. Be prepared to leave this ship in a week's time, without the Medic they'll fall apart. Do I make myself clear?"

Still nothing. Spy frowned.

"I said, do I make myself clear, Dell?" He asked again, not even bothering to mask the threatening tone in his voice this time.

Engie squeezed his eyes shut again.

"...Yes. Yes, you do."

"Very well. I will see you in the morning," He said, moving so that Engie's hand no longer rested on his shoulder and starting to make his way to hallway that led to crew's personal quarters.

Spy paused to look back, a feeling that could almost be described as pity overcoming him. He sighed.

"...Get over it. You only knew him for less than 8 months, anyways," He said softly before leaving Engie alone, footsteps echoing against the metal floors of the ship.

When he felt he was ready, Engie made his way to the Medbay with full expectations of what he would find there.

He just. Didn't expect it to hurt so much.

Medic's body lay on the floor in between the scanner and the large computer it was attached to, his normally bright cyan suit soaked in red and a sizable gash made into his back. There was a broken test tube that had fallen out of his hand a little ways away and one of the lensed of his glasses had been cracked, most likely from the impact of falling onto the floor.

Engie took in a deep breath before carefully sitting him up against the nearest wall, preparing himself to find something to clean up the blood that hadn't managed to be absorbed into his space suit.

He wasn't used to Medic being so.. quiet. Lifeless, if you would. He couldn't remember a single time he'd felt a pain in his chest as intense as this.

It was then that his anger suddenly came back, barely being able to contain himself before he turned around and ended up making a decently large crack in the monitor.

He tried to control the emotions that came flooding after, tried to keep himself from feeling this way over this one human when he'd aided the destruction of countless others, but when he felt himself shaking, he fell to his knees, a sob escaping him.

He shouldn't have gotten attached. He shouldn't have, it wasn't like him- like an imposter to get attached, and yet here he was, crying on the Medbay floor as blood soaked into his already red suit and glass shards clinked against the desk as they fell off piece by piece.

Serves him right for believing in humans, he guesses. Serves him right for having the audacity to care.

...what a stupid decision, that was.

[crusadingcookie]

Yes, that’s my wife - Aizawa x Reader

You are Aizawa’s wife and come to teach Class 1-A about stealth and scouting missions - fluff

Warnings: None

Excitement filled your whole body at the thought of today’s plans. Today you were going to teach the students of Class 1-A. You are a pro-hero, famous for being able to track down anyone and anything with the help of your feathered companion Blitz. Blitz is an eagle who you befriended at a young age, of course this is incredibly useful when during search missions since he can see about anything from the skies.

U.A. invited you to teach their upcoming heroes how to perform scouting missions and gathering information. Of course you had accepted the offer with great enthusiasm. Animated chatter interrupted any further thoughts and you watched as Class 1-A arrived along with a certain teacher trailing lazily behind the group of teenagers.

“Today you kids will be doing some special hero training.” Aizawa stated in his usual monotone voice as he walked to the front of the class and stood next to you. “Today’s training will be led by the pro-hero Codex.” He gestured to you and the students’ eyes widened with excitement. “Oh my god that is the famous Hunter Hero, Codex. I heard that they can track down anyone and subdue them with their sniper rifle. According to the media their longest takedown was from 856 metres.” A boy with dark green hair exclaimed, mumbling the last few words as he started scribbling into a notebook that appeared out of nowhere. A beaming smile grew on your face at the freckled boy’s obvious fanboying and you cleared your throat before introducing yourself. “Hi! I’m the pro-hero Codex. Today I will be teaching you how to successfully perform scouting missions. As pro-heroes it is important to be able to gather as much information about a target as possible without being detected.” You looked over at Aizawa, noticing that he had started to climb into his obnoxiously bright yellow sleeping bag and you refrained from rolling your eyes and turned you attention back to the eager students in front of you. “I’m sure some of you know what my quirk is but for those of you that don’t, my quirk allows me to communicate with animals. This is Blitz,” you gestured to the eagle perched on your leather-clad shoulder, “he provides me with a bird’s eye view from above while I scout on the ground.”

You grinned at the excited chatter which arose from the students. You left them to talk among themselves for a bit and turned your attention to their homeroom teacher who was now fully cocooned in his beloved sleeping bag. “Pay attention in my lesson.” You tutted, Aizawa glanced at you. “Not my fault that it’s boring.” He stated in his usual monotone voice. “When is the lesson starting?” He asked, ignoring the surprised expression on your face at his earlier comment. “Well if you were paying attention you’d know.” You answered immediately, “besides what did I tell you about carrying your sleeping bag everywhere huh?” Aizawa groaned at your remark. “Give me a break woman. I’m trying to sleep here.” “It’s the middle of the day.” “So?” “So? If you love your sleeping bag soo much then you can sleep in it on the couch tonight.” By now the playful banter between the two of you attracted the attention of the students, who were staring at the both of you in shock and confusion. The sudden silence caught your attention and you both turned to look at the students. “Are you two together or something?” One of the students questioned. You gasped in fake horror and turned to Aizawa who sighed, knowing what was about to come. “You didn’t tell the kids about me?!” “Give me a good reason why I should tell them about you.“ Aizawa retorted. “Seven years—“ “Seven years too much” AIzawa muttered which got him a playful hit on the head. “You don’t tell the kids about your wife of seven years?” Your statement caused exclamations of surprise from the students. AIzawa sighed once more before shushing the bewildered kids. “Class 1-A, wife. Wife, Class 1-A.” You pouted at Aizawa’s bland introduction. “Ignore this old man’s lack of enthusiasm. You kids can call me (Name)!” You waited for the loud chatter to quieten down before continuing, “The preparations should be complete now so we can begin with the training. Any questions?” Immediately several hands shot up and you pointed at a girl with bright pink hair. “When did you and Aizawa Sensei get together?” She asked, her question received murmurs of interest. You giggled at the question and clasped your hands together with glee. “Let’s see. We went to U.A. together and ever since we met he had a huge crush on me. It was super obvious. He was really shy and adorable—“ A hand suddenly slapped across your mouth cutting you off mid sentence. You glanced to the side to see Aizawa, anyone else wouldn’t have noticed but your sharp eyes saw the faint blush dusting his cheeks causing you to snicker behind his hand. “Any questions to do with today’s training?” Aizawa eyed the group of students in front of him. No one raised their hands. “Good, let’s begin. Codex will perform a demonstration to show you how this is done.” Aizawa left no room for questioning as he turned and left for the control room.

Step 1: Find a high vantage point You swiftly scaled the side of the building with practiced ease and swung your body over the ledge and onto the rooftop. You didn’t have to look up to know that Blitz was already circling the city from high above. Blitz was your lifelong companion since your quirk had manifested at the age of four and you knew he was capable of doing his part. The next part of the journey involved running and jumping across rooftops and you cherished the wind rushing against your face as well as the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you gracefully leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Climbing up the fire escape ladder on the outside of a rather tall building you decided to settle down on its rooftop. This building provided you with an open view of the city as it was taller than the surrounding. You purposefully stayed away from the tall skyscrapers in the heart of the city as the towering skyscrapers would only obstruct your view.

Step 2: Locate any anomalies in the city Your sniper rifle was held steadily in your hands as you peered into the scope and looked over the area. The flutter of feathers and the familiar dig of talons into your leather-clad shoulder alerted you to Blitz’s arrival. A series of chirps were exchanged between the two of you before the weight on your shoulder was gone and Blitz was once again soaring in the air. Suspicious activity north-east of here. Abandoned building. You set your sights on the area Blitz notified you about and sure enough there was a suspicious looking building nestled in the outskirts of the city. You grinned at the sight of the abandoned building and the oddly well maintained front door and windows. “Jackpot” You whispered to yourself.

Step 3: Gather as much information as possible Meanwhile Class 1-A and Aizawa were gathered in the control room watching your demonstration. The students were keenly watching the large screen in front of them as you dashed across rooftops and scaled the buildings like a ninja. The teenagers became even more excited as they witnessed the exchange between you and Blitz. A static noise echoed throughout the control room followed by the sound of your voice, loud and clear. “Target located in the north-eastern outskirts of the city. No guards. So far four different suspects have been identified. Two have visible mutation quirks the other two’s quirks are unknown. One of them has just left the building out of the back entrance. Proceed with caution as there are civilians in the area.” The students started in astonishment and awe as you listed countless observations. Aizawa hid his proud smile behind his capturing weapon, the list that showed all the possible observations you could have made was fully ticked off.

“Aww has the emotionless sleeping bag grown a soft spot for the students?” You snickered as the two of you watched the students messing about while learning how to climb buildings. “I don’t have a soft spot.” “I think you do.” “No I don’t.” A squawk caused you grin to grow even wider. “See even Blitz agrees with me.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, feedback is always welcome and I am open to requests!

[crqstalite]

SHADOW OF THE SITH. Ch. 6

fair amount of warning before you read this. this 6.2k words that i did not know i had in me, and it took a shorter amount of time to write than the time in between chapters 3 and 4.

hope you enjoy! most of it is dialogue dump from the game, but other than that- -

NAJI._REVANITE_STRONGHOLD.

"I don't trust her." Zenith pulls her aside before they continue on to the stronghold, and she makes a motion for the Wrath to continue on towards where the speeders were parked. Out of earshot, she turns back to the sniper, who seems rightfully upset, "You saw the gleeful rage she went on as much as I did. Who says once she gets that agent back, she won't kill us too?"

"She's not in her right mind either, Zenith." Naji is as surprised as she figures her ally is as she defends the woman, "I can't say why, but I can sense something else is at work rather than just plain Sith cruelty."

An unbelieving grunt from him nearly makes her roll her eyes, but she figures she has to let it slide. By calling in Nadia earlier, Zenith had only been acutely aware of the situation before he'd arrived on-planet, and had been more than suspicious of the alliance with Lana and Tri'ama. Given that excused nothing, even she's a little upset by the body count in the Republic Revanite camps, but she also can't change the conditioning the Wrath has endured for years on end. She's learned one thing, and that's fighting for her faction no matter what, and no amount of begging from Naji will change that. And though it's just a hunch, something about Theron's kidnapping has thrown her for a loop. She's more irritable than usual, and though she was able to discover her eyes weren't yellow all year round (they were a beautiful grey in the early sunlight of the Cove), they have been red for the last few days. Conversation has been completely forgone, and not surprisingly, Lana has been on the receiving end as well.

Or maybe she's wrong and Zenith is right, and the Wrath has something horrible planned for both of them as soon as they leave civilization, "I pledged my loyalty to you, but I won't let your trust get you killed."

"I...thank you." She says, once she realizes he isn't really insulting her. Maybe she really is spending too much time with them, assuming Zenith would have any malicious intent against her. He's only looking out for her, and in more ways than one, he's right anyways. Maybe she is being too trusting with Sith, the people who sacked her homeworld and left scars that would never heal on her people. She nods towards the awaiting speeders, where the Wrath sits impatiently. Her distress is still evident, but her determination is stronger. It's nearly suffocating as they grow close, and she barely lifts her head to the two, simply uncrossing her arms and standing up, "Is everything ready?"

"As ready as it can be." The Wrath answers coldly. Without even asking back if she was ready to leave, she races off into the jungle, leaving a cloud of smoke behind her. She and Zenith share a look before she swings a leg onto her own speeder, Zenith behind her. Then, the greenery of the jungle is upon her as she tries to follow after the Sith. Something she'd also learned, Tri'ama was fast. Not just on foot (she'd overtaken her multiple times while they were running about in Raider's Cove. It made sense, with her lithe frame and long legs would make her a champion long-distance runner, but it was terrifying if she was honest. Seeing her bolt after criminals sent a shiver down her spine because that could just as easily be her), but upon as close of inspection as she was going to get, the Sith apparently wasn't low on credits either with the souped up speeder she drove. Most likely, she'd get there first and start on her path to the stronghold before she and Zenith could even get set up. Rolling her eyes, she figures she'll find her as soon as the pained screaming started.

Also, she seemed to absolutely love throwing her sniper for a loop. Maybe the soldier that ran around with her previously was better at predicting where she would be a few seconds later, but because even Naji herself was a longer ranged fighter, Zenith wasn't used to having to watch the battlefield for allies as often. Her jumping out of nowhere to strike down enemies didn't help their new alliance at all, and there were a few injuries that she was just a little too sure had been caused by him, unintentionally she hopes. Both of them had their own reasons to be frustrated with the other, but she also hadn't exactly been communicating properly either.

It didn't help they both knew next to nothing about the Wrath other than her faction-crossing achievements, as she figured was the same for her. Instead of staying behind after debriefs, Naji often returned to the Polaris. After all of the mess with hunting elusive Revanites, she needed the break provided by Lana. To say the least, she needed the warmer force signatures of her crew rather than the soul-shivering ones of Rishi, stars forbid she become jaded. She, personally, could name every one of her crew's favorite foods, along with the things that made their faces light up like nothing else could. Not that she was bragging, it was rather unbecoming of her, but she liked to be prideful of her knowledge of those she lived with. It brightened her day in a way that was hard to describe, and she was emotionally refreshed when she returned.

The Wrath, was a trickier person to decipher. If it was possible to simply gift her an able and willing Theron Shan, she would've, if only to gain her unwilling alliance. Naji didn't like to be unable to trust her allies properly, and Tri'ama was no different. She wondered what the woman hid beneath her respirator (since Manaan, she hadn't seen her without it), wondered why her companions weren't a constant. Naji had been met with not only a Talz (on Manaan), but also an Imperial soldier (most recently) and small blue Twi'lek (for only a few moments when she'd gone to find the Sith for a mission). It seemed she wasn't satisfied with any of them, and through her rampage, had gone without one. Naji, sadly, wouldn't have been surprised if she had come back with much more debilitating injuries than just a simple scar down the length of her arm.

She was afraid for those in the Republic camp that had seen the Wrath of the Empire.

"Hold on!" She shouts over the engine of the speeder, and instinctively Zenith's arms wrap around her waist just as she has to make a hard left to avoid a grazing animal. Blonde hair flying, she skids to a stop just as the animal huffs at her as if she's the problem. Which, she figures she is, invading the poor animal's grazing grounds. Naji is thoroughly annoyed, she grumbles about the animal actually using it's large ears for something, and continues on her way. Possibly she had been so deep in thought that she hadn't seen it until the last minute, but makes a mental note to tie her hair up once they arrive near the docks.

It doesn't take long either, before she stops the speeder just a few moments away from the opening of the stronghold base. Ships are visible, and more than a few Revanites are milling about, weapons drawn. Storing her speeder underneath one of the docks while force cloaking both her and her sniper, she makes to begin scouting for the Wrath and her trail of bodies, but she's surprised to see it's not immediatly evident. Nothing screamed she had been here, no pools of blood, no wounded Revanites. Passing by a terminal, she has to do a double take as she senses a familiar force signature before looking up in shock. The Wrath has scaled a taller signal tower just near it, sitting on her haunches and gazing across the docks. Looking around for any Revanites, Naji drops the cloak once she finds they're alone, and Tri'ama finally acknowledges her, "Why in the stars are you up there?" Naji whisper yells, "You didn't go ahead?"

"I believe it was you who requested I stop continuing on my own, Barsen'thor." Tri'ama answers, giving her a rather unimpressed look as she raises an eyebrow, "I am also alone at the moment, what would Lana say if the Wrath came back dead because she was impatient?"

That didn't stop you earlier, Naji thinks bitterly, You're also saying you didn't want to go on alone because you were afraid of dying without me to come save you.

But there is a touch of something other than stifling pseudo-bravery filtering through her mind, which is possible apprehension lurking beneath the service. Possibly her previous injuries had a lasting effect on her and decided to wait for her this time. Naji couldn't imagine storming a camp on your own was easy, no matter how strong you were. She and Zenith had struggled to hold their own, even with the two of them. Hopefully this would instill some caution into her before she decided to rampage again.

Could Sith even feel fear? Was it even a basic emotion they had? Naji figured not, with how much force-leaping they did off cliffs and insane acrobatics they did during battle. It was as if not a single thing scared them, not even death. The Empire must've paid for their surely extensive insurance bills, or possibly they even waived them.

"Well then," With a loud thump, Tri'ama leaps down from the signal tower (the force is used to soften the impact, but when she steps away the wood is cracked) and stands to her full height and brandishes both of her sabers, "Lead the way, fearless Jedi."

What kind of talking to had she received from Lana? Had she? Or was she truly just toying with her, as she seemed to enjoy quite a bit? A confused look crosses her face as the Wrath chuckles, "What? You have the map don't you?"

Naji does. She'd acquired it just before they left the hut, and maybe this is the Wrath's way of reminding her that she isn't the best leader. With a barely audible huff, she pulls out her own double saber (though not igniting it just yet), and pulls up the map on her wrist. Her attention drawn away for just a moment, she turns to see where Zenith had gone when she hears the all-too familiar sound of sabers striking through skin and the thump of a body.

Her heart stops for about .2 seconds.

-

TRI'AMA._REVANITE_STRONGHOLD.

Red cuts through a Revanite who had gotten just a bit too close for her liking, taking aim for the Jedi. The Barsen'thor had turned to find her sniper, who for the record was behind a stack of crates and had surely seen their surprise attacker before she had, and as ingrained as it was in her society, she cut them down before they could get any closer to the Consular. Naji whips around, fear in her eyes before it mellows out into relief. The twi'lek gets up from his spot, though doesn't reholster his rifle as he approaches the two.

The two were an odd pair. How had such a soft-minded Jedi gotten caught up with a crackshot sniper? Much less someone as rough and patriotic as him. She didn't know much about this Zenith, and didn't intend to get to know him, but right off the bat she'd chosen she didn't like him. Maybe it was because he'd nearly shot her a few times, or seemed less than grateful for what she did for the alliance.

What did she think she'd gotten up to? Tri'ama throws her a less than well-meaning what the hell look before stalking off. She wasn't completely lying when she'd decided to wait for the Barsen'thor and her ally, there were quite a few more traitors patrolling around the stronghold than in the camps. Had Broonmark been here, or Vette, or Pierce, she would've easily been able to hack and saw her way to the main building, but without any backup she already had a streak in her hair from a blaster bolt that had just barely missed her. Now she had a matching pair on both sides of her head.

But, the Empire's Wrath wasn't about to even slightly admit defeat. At least she did wait as long as Lana had advised her while healing her wounds.

"You ought to be more careful, Wrath." Lana says, her voice softer than it has been in days. Tri'ama really can't act all that cold anymore, especially when she's trying to hold onto her pride and not request the Barsen'thor's healing for every little wound she suffers. But, the skimpy armor has worn out it's purpose and has made it obvious of every injury that marrs her pale skin. Lana took notice and decided to heal them, "You are not invincible."

"I'm also not dead." She grumbles, before inhaling sharply as Lana begins to work on one of her most recent wounds. Tri'ama never learned force healing (she didn't ever have to, Vette was proficient enough to get them through Korriban and Balmorra...and then he routinely took care of her), but it's an odd feeling to describe. As if the wound is being torn in two, and then put back together rather forcefully. Painful, but it doesn't scar as roughly as they would without Force intervention. And, she's put in working order much faster than without, even with the searing pains up her arm "I'll be fine, Lana."

There's a disbelieving noise from her as the aching pain subsides in her forearm, "You may be now, but you must learn to work with the Barsen'thor, as much as you audibly despise it. Your arm may not be the only thing injured the next time you become angry enough to forgo your own safety." There's concern in her amber colored eyes as Tri'ama stands from the bench, though she grimaces for a completely different reason than being in pain, "You can have your reservations about this later."

"Killing the crazy galaxy-spanning cult comes first, yes I'm very aware, Beniko. Though if I feel threatened, I will act accordingly." Tri'ama answers, reclipping her armor on and her sabers at their respective places on her hips.

"Just wait next time, at least until the Barsen'thor can accompany you. It would do us a great disservice to lose you."

But they move much too slowly. Being careful, she assumes, but for every Revanite she kills, it takes another five minutes for Naji to move on. Bah, it's not like she has a force bond to any of them, or knew anyone personally. They were nameless, faceless, traitors to either faction. To put it simply, they deserved to be cut down as it was. Tri'ama just didn't want to let the armies do it first.

Every ship is hers though, every warship meant for the opposing faction. Destroying is nearly as therapeutic as striking down everyone she comes across, and the Barsen'thor doesn't interfere. Except for the occasional time a force push off the docks and into the water is needed to keep the Revanites off her, the woman is exceptionally quiet as she goes over strategy to get into the actual stronghold. The explosions that could surely take the paint off her speeder is another perk, making her feel just as powerful as she was when she was in the heart of the Empire. Using the force to pull apart wire after wire, and then nearly the whole ship while she's at it, a roar rumbles up and out of her throat as sparks fly and the sound of creaking durasteel fills her ears. A look of shock from her as the ship snaps in multiple directions and is lit ablaze from dripping oil puts a less than good-natured smirk on her face as they continue on her reign of terror.

Naji looks terrified. She feels terrified. But, there is not a signal speck of judgement in he force signature. It's unsettling.

This isn't the only reason she's being more reckless than usual. The more time spent out here sabotaging every technological apparation out here was less time that Theron had to live. At the hands of a cult, a cult leader to be more specific, of course Tri'ama was more concerned than truly necessary. Lana had made it evident that he was mentally strong and could withstand some amount of torture, but she's afraid they've wasted enough time already. It's been four very long days, and in those days she progressively has gotten less and less sleep. Tri'ama nearly chuckles at the idea she feels like she's lost more sleep over an SIS agent than the betrayal of someone who actually reciprocated her love for a period of time.

Before she chokes on that chuckle and realizes just how far from the truth that is. It's been four days, not four years. Theron hasn't tried to kill her either.

It's also not the time or place to be thinking about the past though, as she waits impatiently for the Barsen'thor to connect to a nearby terminal, Lana's face flashing on. They talk for a bit as she plays with a discarded piece of sharp durasteel, twisting and turning it in the Force. Just for a moment, she tries to reach out for Theron, somewhere among all of the other presences nearby. For obvious reasons, the Barsen'thor shines like a beacon in the throng she can sense, but his familiar signature isn't to be found. Dejectedly, she figures he's shut himself off the best he can to withstand the interrogation.

Her will hardens, she's going to outright gut whoever did take him. Maybe not Lana, but his kidnappers would have a hefty price to pay. And stars, if they left any marks, any scars, and cuts, they would fall dead at her feet before the day was over.

The durasteel creaks and then shatters into pieces in the air, and she lets them drop unceremoniously at her feet. Her frustration is only growing, and that means there's a lot of unsuspecting building materials that would feel her fury today. Just as she's seething through all of this, a bit too bright of a force signature invades her space. The Barsen'thor has finished her conversation with Lana, "We have the coordinates for Theron. All is ready if you are." She starts.

"Where is he?" Tri'ama asks, trying to steady her already cold voice to not give away more of her emotional state as she already has.

"It's just down the valley. I don't know what to expect, but he's in that building there." Naji points out across the water to a larger building with some other Revanites crowded around the opening. Tri'ama turns back to her, awaiting her coming orders or whatnot, but the Barsen'thor hasn't made any movement to lead, "Well? Isn't this what you want?"

"What?" She narrows her eyes, confused by what she's attempting to say.

"You have a platoon of surely Republic soldiers in between you and your goal. You might as well get a head start." It isn't friendly, her offer isn't (in fact it's a little sad as she says 'Republic'), but the meaning behind it is borderline respectful, "I'm sure you'll get through them much faster than I will."

Tri'ama pauses, considering. She doesn't smile, though her bloodlust only grows as her eyes land on what she's speaking of. They aren't all Republic, a few Imperial uniforms stand out to her, but she's quick to sprint down to the docks. Nothing will keep her from her objective now, a battle cry elicited from her as she slices through every enemy along the way. A few are sniped by Zenith, but she's not particuarily upset about it. Nothing matters now but to get to Theron.

-

Stepping over the body of Sith that protected the doorway, Tri'ama is breathing hard. Of course she would be, she's sure either of the two traitorous factions have lost a good chunk of their military forces today, but her body is wound up like a toy ready to break from the tension. She's sure she's bleeding somewhere, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins ignores it wholeheartedly. No extremities are missing just yet, her hood lowered (fallen during the consecutive battles she'd engaged in) and her hair is sweaty and plastered to her forehead. Her knuckles have gone nearly white around her sabers as she disignites them, the door opening after she's slashed the console, and it sparks accordingly as the three step through.

The inside of the bunker isn't well-lit, but it's empty. She goes through first, Zenith flanking them before she comes upon a holoprojector. She has to hold back baring her teeth at the damned thing as the figure comes into better view, "Revan." She growls.

"I should have known the Empire would send one of it's lapdogs to try and find me. You should never have bothered." The gruff voice says, as if he's already won.

"What have you done with Theron?" She demands, before the projection can say anything else. She's not sure she wants to hear what it has to say.

"Theron Shan's fate doesn't matter. Neither does yours, I'm changing the fate of the galaxy itself."

When (yes, when) she gets her hands on this mass murderer, it will be safe to say that he will end up six feet under before he changed the fate of the galaxy. He's taken something important to her, and she will do the exact same to him.

"By doing what, destroying everything you come across?" The Barsen'thor speaks up before she can, coming to stand next to her, "That's not changing the fate of the galaxy, that's causing chaos and killing millions."

"I'm not waging some war with the Empire and Republic. I'm saving countless lives, and you keep getting in the way." He sounds more like a child hellbent on getting what he wants than a tyrannical murderer, she'll give him that, "The only upside in your being here, really, is that you get to bear witness. My plan's too far along to stop it now."

Blaster fire is audible as she turns to an open doorway just as he finishes his sentence, and she and the Barsen'thor both ignite their weapons. Tri'ama steps forward, brandishing both scarlet sabers in preparation for whatever comes next. It isn't immediatly obvious, but she feels him through the force before she can see him. The door is closing just as Theron runs under it, and her eyes widen in surprise. With no immediate threat obvious, she lets out a sigh of relief she didn't know she was holding as her cheeks flush.

This isn't the time, she has to remind herself. Though his name ghosts over her lips, and she's sure she looks more surprised than she wishes to let on.

"Don't listen to him--It's not over yet!" He comes to a halt, Naji growing closer with the full intent of healing his more apparent injuries, one hand already glowing in preparation.

"I was so sure I'd never see you again." Tri'ama admits, clipping her sabers back onto their holsters on her belt. Hopefully it isn't as flirtatous as another tone would've suggested it as, but her relief is out in the open, however he takes it. The interrogation had thankfully, not killed him or crippled him that she could see, but the injuries will scar. Not that he won't look more rugged with it, but it hardens her resolve for the cause.

"Yeah, sorry--almost made it out the front door when I saw you'd shown up to rescue me. Should've known you would." If she hadn't been so hot from before, her already vermillion face would've given away her acception of the compliment. Even if it wasn't directly meant for her, as she acknowledges Naji out of the corner of her eye, "It'll barely be a fight. Revanites embedded on both sides are gonna sabotage shields, weapons--you name it--and we can't warn them."

"I thought all of them had come to Rishi. There are still Revanites among the Republic?" And Empire, Tri'ama silently adds as Naji questions him, "We need to warn Master Shan."

"Revan had the Nova Blades build him a signal jammer. No communications at all up in Rishi space. It'll be a blood bath." He answers, his head lowered as Naji inhales sharply. Even Tri'ama knows what this means for the war effort. There will be casualties upon casualties in the oncoming fight, and currently they're the only ones with any knowledge about it.

A scowl replaces her earlier near smile, "Revan, when I see you again. You will not be pulling off any miraculous survival. I'll put a hole through you first."

"Actually, I doubt I'll ever see you again." Ominous, but it doesn't ring true until the entire cavern begins to rumble, an explosion sounding nearby and things falling around her in a deafening succession.

"This place is coming down. Soon!" Theron yells, and droids are beginning to pour out of some unseen crevice of the place. Naji's idea to heal is quickly shot down as her green blade is ignited, and Zenith's sniper rifle has a familiar click to it when it's unholstered. She gives the SIS agent a lingering look, before also drawing her weapons.

"You could have joined me, Theron. Understandably, you're as tenacious as I ever was. Good bye." He says, the holoprojector shutting off. A siren begins to blare and red lights are blinding her as it reflects off every metal surface she can see. The droids begin shooting a bit too well for her liking, and before she leaps, Naji throws a chunk of wood paneling at the direction of the metal good-for-nothings. She's a tad bit in awe before leaping herself and finishing the bots off, stabbing a few through the chest.

Tri'ama continues hacking her way through every droid she can see, and even a few humanoids that stuck around for some reason. As much as she'd like to drop back with the others, finding the shut off for whatever alarm is coming first apparently. She couldn't hear much from his and Naji's conversation over the damned sound, but as long as she's leading the charge, she will enjoy it.

In a flurry, they've arrived at a terminal, and as she sheathes her sabers, Naji attempts her best at shutting off the surely doomsday events that are heading their way. Her fingers are flying over the holokeyboard, symbol after symbol popping up before it explodes. She isn't quick enough to put up a force barrier between them all, but she puts her own hands up to protect her face, and she stumbles backwards into Tri'ama, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Things are coming apart, and she's beginning to consider slashing her way through whatever door or barrier is keeping the from leaving on their own. Reaching through the force, she can feel whispers of Theron's signature, and it feels as if Naji is going to need much more than her basic healing to repair the damage done to him.

And like that, the alarms have shut off, the ground under them stilling. The red hasn't painted everything in an eery color anymore, and Lana's voice crackles onto the comm, "Hello? Are you there?"

"Lana? What's just happened?" Tri'ama asks, whipping her own head around in mild curiousity, or more droids in case one wishes to bear her wrath.

"I appear to have sliced through four layers of encryption to remotely deactivate the power core." She answers, pride filtering into her voice, and if Tri'ama's being honest, she's willing to give her props for that. She herself floundered with technology, Vette and Quinn had always been better with the finnicky datapads and terminals than she had been.

"Just in the nick of time. Don't know if I could've managed that, even." Theron admits, sounding tired and a trifle incredulous of the Sith's work.

"Theron. Good to know you're alive." Lana says, her voice just a touch softer than usual, "I heard everything--about the jammer, all of it. We need to regroup for an immediate attack." She pauses as Tri'ama looks at the tired expressions of the other three with her, and can imagine how Lana feels on the other end of the comm. This is all out war now, and they're at the forefront of it. A few years ago, she would've seen it fitting. She was the Wrath after all. But this was unprecedented. She would do anything to save the galaxy and her people, "Whatever happens...be proud of what we've accomplished up to now. See you soon."

-

The ride back to the Rishii village is oddly quiet. Theron is understandbly a bit out of it (he rides on her speeder, but that isn't on her mind right then), and she's not up for conversation at the moment as thoughts of wartime begin to enter her headspace again. It wasn't as if she thought the war was going to be over as soon as she pulled out of Corellian space, but she wasn't expecting this either. Soon, she and Naji would surely be stalking into enemy territory, staring down the full fighting force of a millenia-old cult (or so she assumes, wrongly she later learns). Two people who would never work together otherwise.

Tri'ama wonders if she'll ever see the woman after this all over. Not that she needs to, but it's a lingering thought as they pull back into the village. Jakarro is the first to greet them as they return, "It is good to have you back!" (translated properly by Naji) He roars at Theron, who's understandbly a bit stand-offish.

"Alright, take it easy. I'm not exactly a hundred percent, and you're not exactly gentle." He says, a chuckle underlining his statement. Naji allows Zenith to wait outside, and it's stifling warmer inside than it is outside. Tri'ama unclips her own respirator, finally free to breathe the jungle's sticky air. The Barsen'thor's grey eyes are analytical, not judgemental but curious. There is a scar along her throat she's not particularily proud of, but she puts it on a nearby desk for later.

"Oh good! The team's back together--all thanks to you both for saving Theron, of course." C2-D4 acknowledges the pair of force sensitives, Tri'ama's gaze flickering to the aforementioned agent for just a moment.

"He was nearly out the door himself, you know." She fills in, and Naji nods approvingly. Lana pulls herself away from a holoterminal, coming to stand near them and surely debrief them on the next mission.

"Theron, you have the intelligence on this signal jammer. You start." She says, a tad clippedly.

"Right. The intelligence I gathered in the company of several interrogation probes while being held against my will." Either Lana isn't bothered by this and acts accordingly, or is formulating her own response to his icy statement. Either way, Theron continues, "Jammer's on a nearby island. You've probably seen it. Can't be sliced remotely, lots of Revanite zealots protecting it...the usual hopeless nightmare, basically."

"We've got this." Naji says confidently, even if she doesn't believe it herself. There's a new injury she hadn't seen previously, with the woman's hood up most of the time through the Revanite bunker. Tri'ama briefly wonders where it had come from, who'd gotten past their defenses long enough to land a blow like that. It's an ugly cut too, though it's stopped bleeding and trails up her neck to her ear, "Revan won't know what hit him."

"Time's running short. You both know what to do. It's what you always do: triumph." Lana declares. And with that, she goes back to whatever she had been doing previously. The Barsen'thor makes to gather something from her packs in the corner, shuffling things around and eventually calls Zenith inside.

Tri'ama takes this opportunity, "Theron, may I speak to you for a moment? Alone?"

He raises an eyebrow, as if suspicious of her intentions but follows after her. It's cooler outside, as the sun is beginning to set over the valley. She can see Rishii bustling around nearby, though they aren't her immediate concern. Tri'ama is well-aware of Theron's current state, but walks further out from the hut to where there's a stream running just beneath them. She stops, not turning to him but can feel him lean back on a wooden railing, "So? What'd you need?" He asks, "We do have things to be doing."

His hazel eyes are tired, though alert. One of his cybernetics is no longer yellow, instead a dull replacement of it. She hopes he fixes it.

"This isn't the first time I've thrown myself headfirst into a dire situation. Stars, it isn't even the first time I've faced certain death." She swallows hard, repressing the urge to brush her hair back from where it is hanging in front of her face. She feels bare without her respirator, but continues on, "But this is new. S-Theron. I'm not sure if I'm coming back this time."

He's quiet, letting her continue. But there are obviously gears beyond his cybernetics working in his head. Contemplating what she's saying, processing and surely about to react accordingly, and she wants to know. Know everything, "I'm trying to say that if this is the last time I see you, I want to thank you for the truly exciting excursion."

"You're not going to die, you know that, right?" He questions, though more subdued than he had been as he approaches her from the barrier that he'd been leaning against, "You're...you. There are things you've done that would make anyone retire early if they survived, but you're still here. And doing a hell of a job while you're at it."

Tri'ama can't find a response to that. It's kinder than she expected. Down from the adrenaline high, she is in quite a bit of pain. There's a tear in her armored pants, one that's bled for a while and finally has stopped, and a few along her backside. Lana will need to heal those to keep them from scarring improperly. It feels as if she's considering death itself, and death has chosen for her. She feels more trapped than she has in years, like this really is the end. Her heart won't stop beating so fast. The blaster bolt that had shot her in the shoulder, the scar on her back when she'd worn a more exposed armor set.

Quinn. Tri'ama honestly though she was going to die that day. After their skirmish, she was ready to nearly admit defeat herself, staring into his cold blue eyes that they shared.

Her body hurts.

Her mind hurts.

Her heart hurts. She'd spent the last few days worried about him, and now, here he is. And she doesn't know what to say. Or what to do. What was one to do in this situation.

"I...I just wanted to say that. Covering all my bases just in case." She turns to finally face him, "I never got to properly thank you for what you did for me at the cantina. Here I am, thanking you."

"You're--you're welcome." He says hurriedly, a look of surprise crossing his face. Maybe he didn't think she'd even remember the disaster of a night, "I have you to thank for saving me."

"You were already out before Naji and I were there." She says, quietly reminding him that the Barsen'thor had assisted as well, "You didn't need me."

They're quiet, as the wind begins to dry her hair off of the sweat that had plagued her. Tri'ama understands why the Barsen'thor had tied her hair back earlier, the jungle was no place for longer hair styles.

She doesn't even finish that last thought before she gathers what exhausted confidence she has left, and goes to kiss his cheek, cupping it with her uninjured hand. He's startled, which makes sense, and she goes to head back towards the hut, completely aware of what she's just done. He could refuse to work with her now, but at least she's gotten it out of her system.

A hand pulls at her as she stops, Theron on the other end. He's flushed, and now not just from the heat. He's tentative, still he pulls her back closer to him and kisses her softly. Her heart is pounding in her ears as she allows herself to sink into the moment, and had he been Sith, been Jedi, he would feel every single emotion she's allowing herself to experience at this very moment. It's surreal, in fact. Tri'ama doesn't want to let go.

All too soon, it's over. They remain in each other's embrace for a moment before he slowly let's her go, though he still has a loose grasp on her hand. He's not looking directly at her, but his attention is still with her, "Just...don't die."

"I can guess we have much to discuss when I return, yes?" She asks, flushed herself. Tri'ama is intoxicated, stars she wants to taste him again. Allow her to tangle her fingers in his jacket, in his hair, wherever she can.

She wants him.

"Yeah." He answers, the briefest of smiles on his face, "That'd be nice."

[multiple-fandom-imagines]

Matchmake in Heaven Part 1

Matchmake in Heaven Part 1

If you want to be tagged just ask :)

Alias: Flyer Fighter

Real Name: Riley Yates

Passive Ability: Glide, drops rope so teammates can grab and glide with her

Tactical Ability: robotic flyer with scouts out player loot like heals, shields and ammo and also baddies in a 10ft area

Ultimate Ability: If inside her robot Flyer can attack enemies and outside flyers will fly down from the sky attacking enemies/ if none can lift player in the air to let her glide giving her extra

Legend Category (DPS/Support/Defence/Tracker): Tracker

Reason for joining the games: Joined with her friend Wildfire for money to support themselves and their family

Personality: very suspicious, tends to stick to themselves, direct, honest, when comfortable shes outgoing, caring

Appearance: (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4d/e6/b8/4de6b8f7d223df5180b7d1792fdc0c9e.jpg)

Intro Quips: Ready to Fly,  

Kill Quips: shoulda kept your eyes to the sky, better luck next

 You are low Class which means you are just for the Legends to kill, showing skill eventually could make you a rising star to eventual legend.

 Tip Jar

Being part of the Apex games isn’t all fun and game especially since your sister became a rising star. The only problem means that she wasn’t very disliked by a lot of the players. Turns out people don’t like seeing their deepest fears on tv such as loved ones dying. It wasn’t a problem for you until one day you came face to face with your sister in the ring. She is called Siren and a new fan favorite. She did her famous “Monster” kill on you as she said “Sweet dreams little sis…” it doesn’t seem a lot but it was enough for everyone in and out of the games to know you were sisters. The one thing you hid was now shown to the entire galaxy. People took out their pain on you. Most people you were stuck in a team with now ignored you, take dibs loot. One time a team left you downed do when you ‘died’ they stole your loot and never spawned you back, after that day you started going more solo leaving your team behind, end of the day they are nothing but dead weight if they don’t help. Since that day you grew a small fanbase of people showing their support to you as you lone wolfed the games. You were thankful for them they are a big reason why your still in the games.

Today the games were no different, before the games started the people who you were paired up with today had made comments about you like you weren’t even there and ignored your landing location as jump master to straight up leave you.  with a r99 and a sniper, you were making your way through the swamps scoping out some fellow low class, focused on one looking though a loot box you dropped 2 shots to the chest destroying their shield before a quick shot to the head downing him. Quickly reloading, his teammate quickly ran to his aid without looking around him, bad move. Sniping him twice his level 1 shield dropped but quickly moved behind cover. Grabbing my grenade I tossed it at the fallen teammate killing him. . Jumping from the cliff I glided to a nearby tree platform to get a better view. Just above the hiding teammate, he was in a panicked state from not knowing who was after him. Quickly pulling out my R99 smg out I unloaded a round of bullets on him downing him before reloading and finishing him off. You looked around for the last teammate “Come out, come out wherever you are…”  you said as you scoped the area with you sniper again, until you spotted a figure running towards the banner, looking behind her every so often. Lining out a shot, you put your finger on the trigger, ready to pull. BANG! A shot fired out but not from you, “She’s being followed. So that’s why you keep looking behind yourself.” You said to yourself. Looking behind her you could see Pathfinder, Mirage, and Octane following close behind, “Fuck the Big Leagues.” As their shots fired out at the last fighter, she was hit a few times before slipping into cover, with no shield and injured but in-view just for you. Quickly you fired a single round to her head killing her. “the whole team down, better luck next time.” The only problem is now that 3 very skilled players are going to come for you, you need to leave and fast, quickly looking around, mapping yourself a route out of the wetlands. You could easily glide and then run towards some buildings outside the wetlands to hopefully lose them and run to the cage for some loot. Zipping to the very top, you found some ammo, taking a moment to heal up before getting a shield up you heard a door open below you, peeking down you saw Octane, obviously searching for you. Seeing the open door and Octane distracted at the opposite side of the room. “It’s now or never.” You said to yourself, jumping down from the higher platform, tripping over yourself as you ran full pelt to the open door, running out you jumped from the high building your wings opened to glide until you just fell down and down before hitting the ground with a thud. Spitting out a mouthful of dirt. You pushed yourself up onto your knees, taking deep breaths, you mask was broken with only your cloth mask to hide most of your face left to hid what’s underneath, unfortunately, it meant the Deep claw marks above the mask were now on show. Deep marks that stood out on top of the skin rather than in the skin which some glowed black and the other black. Hearing a thud beside out you looked up to see Octane came to you “Sorry about the drop Amigo.” he said his Spanish Accent filling the air. “It’s ok. I had a good match, a whole team 3 kills.” He looked at you confused. Expecting you to at least try and getaway, you just sat there waiting for death. “It’s ok to kill me, my teammates are at….uh…the airstrip, so they won’t be helping me.”

“They left you?” you nodded “Ever since it came out that my sister is the Siren. No one wants to be nice to someone who’s sister can show their family dying.” Before Octane could reply you were finished off by Mirage who had Pathfinder close behind him. One way or another he was gonna be paired with you.

[cupnoodle-queen]

CHASING SUNS: Chapter 13 Blame

2,230 words THE PLOT THICKENS. dun dun dunnnn Tagging some peeps: @blindbae​ @nifwrites​ @thegoddesseos​ @themissimmortal​

Cam gripped the steering wheel with damp hands, trailing behind Gladio’s Jeep on the drive back to HQ. Her entire body was feeling the after effects of their connection, sparks on her skin and her brain going a mile a minute, yet inside her gut she felt ill. Dave wanted to speak with her, and the way Gladio just, looked away from her….What happened?

Her wipers were struggling to keep up with clearing the rain, the downpour coming in sheets and a low rumble of thunder reverberated through the frame of the vehicle. As they entered the first winding turn before the tunnel, Cam could just make out the rough patches of dirt and terrain uplifted from the behemoth, ominous flashbacks rapid firing through her mind. She still couldn’t believe she’d assisted in downing the beast, surprised at how quickly the plan to blind it lightbulbed in her mind. How she managed to pull it off on the other hand, she couldn’t explain.

Sure she’d trained with Gladio and Greyson plenty, but something gnawed at her sense of reason. She’d overheard the hushed whispers of other hunters and veterans, how she was most likely feigning the stroke of greatness persona, coming from nothing and rubbing shoulders with the higher ranks in no time flat. Someone who’d been mediocre at best in physical education throughout high school, someone who hadn’t touched a firearm before several short weeks ago…

As they exited the tunnel and approached HQ territory, Gladio slowed down his Jeep faster than Cam anticipated and she broke hard, though immediately understood the reason for his abrupt halt; a thick puddle of blood was accumulating outside the tunnel, dripping from above where the behemoth corpse was slung by the edge of the rock shelf. An iron tang hit the back of her throat; she could smell it. Great. They’d probably called a meeting to bump priority of getting rid of the body…

They pulled up beside the main office and headed inside, one after the other without another word. It was a full house; Greyson, Prompto and Cor were seated against the far wall, Dave was pacing the room with a look of contempt on his typically relaxed face. Two of the highest ranking hunters nodded to greet them as they entered, while off in the furthest corner Steph stood, fixated on her phone, thumbs tapping the screen at lightning speed.

“Alright, she’s here,” Dave announced and every head in the room rose to look at Cam. She felt microscopic in seconds flat, leaning against the wall opposite the door, Gladio behind her. What did he mean, ‘she’s here’…

“Got a couple things to go over before the main topic of this meeting,” Dave continued, grabbing a folder from the metal desk and flipping through the paperwork. “That behemoth was no coincidence; infrared readings have doubled since the scout’s last reports from Sunday, only five days ago. We think given that it was headed due northwest when Greyson and Co happened upon it, there’s a high chance it was attracted to the infrared energy being omitted nearby.”

“How are the sightings in the area, boss?” one of the veteran hunters asked, looking over Dave’s shoulder to read the report.

Dave rubbed his forehead. “Rising. Snipers use to only hold two clips of ammo per shift, but recently they’ve been requesting double, and what’s even more concerning is just how close they’re reaching the outskirts of HQ.” He sighed, leaning against a support beam. “Might need to invest in more spotlights-”

“It’s not in the budget,” Steph interjected, all heads whipping in her direction at the back of the room. Her expression was blank. “And you know we can’t work it in as well. I’ve scoured it top to bottom and pinched enough pennies to be certain of that.”

Dave’s eyes flicked to Cam and her gut cramped. “Which brings me to the reason for our meeting. Reynolds?”

Her head snapped up, undivided attention. “Yes?”

“Where were you at approximately 4:35 this afternoon?”

Cam frowned, knitting her dark eyebrows in confusion. “Beg pardon, sir?”

“Answer the question, Reynolds,” Cor’s voice was like a serrated blade across her face.

“I was…” She thought back to it, around that time she was - “in the showers.”

Dave eyed her suspiciously until she shrugged her shoulders. He backed up towards a flat cabinet, sliding the door open to reveal a flat screen TV, a grid of closed-circuit feeds on display in small boxes. He cycled through some views with the remote until he landed on a specific one, enlarging the view, and Cam recognized it as the side wall adjacent to the back entrance of the armory...

She tensed, realizing what everyone was about to witness. Without forethought Cam’s head snapped back to Steph, but she was focused intently on the television, expression indecipherable.

Cam turned back in time to see a pre-recorded version of herself, crouched and sneaking behind the back of the armory. Much to her displeasure however, the angle of the camera only captured the side of the building, not the back, so when Cam’s recorded form ducked behind the armory she was in the blind spot.

She knew what would happen next, how a few seconds later she’d come tiptoeing back the same way she came, pocketing her cell phone...Except, she didn’t. Nearly a minute went by of zero activity on the monitor. There was no way Cam had spent that long behind the armory; She’d followed Steph and the initiate, saw them through the gap in the door, snapped some pics, and left. The entire series of events may have taken twenty seconds at best…

Also, why hadn’t they shown…”Dave,” Cam interrupted their viewing and he paused playback, “Can you rewind to a few seconds before I show up on screen?”

Wordlessly, he fulfilled her request and hit play about a minute before Cam’s appearance. Nothing, and then...Cam sneaking into view.

What the hell? “Okay, something’s not right-”

“Why’d you break into the armory, Reynolds?” Dave’s voice was firm and low, avoiding eye contact; authoritative, but lacking confidence.

Cam stepped away from the wall, taking a few strides forward. “That footage is all wrong, I-I didn’t go back there of my own volition.”

“Then explain,” Cor rose from his seat, pacing around to Cam, “what sent you back there in the first place.”

“I-I saw-”

Steph’s arms flung around the initiate’s neck, the cream and roses of her bare breasts jostling with his thrusts as he pistioned in and out of her, his bare ass flexing with the push of his hips. Their labored breathing with the speed of their fucking-

“...something.”

Her mouth dropped a fraction, nerves getting the better of her composure. She dared a glance at Steph, who to Cam’s surprise remained the pinnacle of ease, twirling a lock of crimson hair between long, slender fingers.

It drove Cam insane. She either didn’t know, or didn’t care that she was about to be exposed. She was hyper-aware of Gladio standing barely two feet behind her. Alright then, she thought to herself, pulling out her phone. “Look, I have proof that I...wasn’t alone. Just let me find-”

The pictures of Steph weren’t showing up in her gallery. They were gone.

“Wait, what the hell?” She tried with trembling hands to close the application and reopen it, hoping with despair that it was...Nope, not a glitch. The photos had disappeared.

Cam’s heart hit the back of her throat and double-timed as she caught a glimpse of Steph standing in the back of the room, one corner of her mouth barely turned up into a snide smirk.

Something happened to Cam then, that she never experienced before in twenty five years of life. For two  seconds of unwarranted eternity, her vision tinted red. Undiluted fury in its purest form.

Anger, absolute.

Behind her Gladio took a step back, startled and uncertain as to how he just felt that.

Cam regained her sobriety, sighing. “I had pictures on my phone, however it seems they’ve been deleted.” She gritted her teeth. The bitch must have taken her phone while she was in the shower-

“Well unfortunately, Reynolds,” The Marshal was holding back his full potential for a raised voice, “the entirety of gil in the retain cash was just stolen, approximately two grand in total.” He stopped in front of Cam, his head cocked to the side. “Until otherwise proven innocent, I have no choice but to suspend you from active hunter status. Had we not been in dire need of personnel we’d be having a different conversation altogether. Turn in your weapons tonight, we’ll get you started on a job tomorrow-”

“That’s not fair, I didn’t-”

“Reynolds,” Dave’s voice was restrained. “No one else went back there tonight except you. Camera doesn’t lie.”

Altered recordings do, Cam thought to herself. She exhaled in defeat. No use fighting it for now, evidently Steph had gone to extensive lengths to cover up her little rendezvous with the rookie hunter; She’d just have to find another means of proving her guilt. “Whatever, then. Fine. Can I go?”

A long pause, silence that made the air feel thick. Someone coughed, and then, “Meeting adjourned.”

The attendees rose, but as they began to file out of the office Dave spoke up. “Actually, Greyson and Steph, stick back for a few minutes...”

Cam’s hands balled into fists and she made for the barracks to collect her weapons. It wasn’t right, but she had to roll with the punches on this. There had to be a way she could gain access to the recordings, or perhaps there was a witness around that could provide a statement...

A hand grabbed her arm and swung her around to face the opposite direction. It was Gladio. “Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” her sun was humming below her skin. Try as she did to deny it, she liked looking at him.

He frowned though his eyes were warm. “What happened?”

“I didn’t break into the armory, if that’s where you’re going with this.” Cam’s voice had a grit to it, though she tried to be sincere...She could tell him, right? What she saw? Would he react well to it or get upset? Given the unknown state of their relationship (could it even be called that? The questions were unyielding tonight) She couldn’t be certain, instead she tiptoed at the precipice and brushed over what occurred. “I saw...Steph, inside.”

Gladio’s eyebrows jumped a bit. “In the armory? That’s impossible. She’s not that kind of person.”

“Are you sure?” Cam took an involuntary step towards him, halting mid second. “Gladio, I-I know what I saw. Honest to Astrals, I saw her…”

He exhaled a deep breath, checked his six and took Cam’s hand leading her inside the barracks. It was too early for anyone to be asleep so he knew they’d have some privacy. Cam’s heart hammered when he pulled her into the dark foyer of the sleeping quarters. After ensuring they were alone he whispered, the tenor in his voice like an engine. “Look, I don’t know what happened but...just, don’t mess around with her. She’s got a mean streak a mile wide and gets what she wants, no matter what the cost.”

“Why go out with her in the first place, then?” Cam whispered back, though instantly regretted her abrasive tone. He was still holding her hand; She had no intention of letting go at that moment. “I mean, if she’s not that nice of a person...”

Gladio pulled Cam close, their torsos touching and her marking reacted with renewed heat. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his facial hair brushing her head in a comforting way before he wrapped his arms around her. “I did what I had to...to get by.”

Confusion clawed at her sense of reason and she wanted to question his response but he was surrounding her, radiating warmth and intoxicating allure. They stood still for countless seconds, their breathing synched and hearts linked, both overwhelmed at the effects of one another’s proximity. Two addicts tapped at the vein; Two ships that sailed in the night for far too long.

Gladio’s hand stroked her jaw line and pulled her face upwards, planting the softest kiss of a lifetime on Cam’s lips. With barely any pressure and only the feel of his mouth against hers, melding between them in perfect symmetry and balance, they gave each other what the other had desperately needed all their life without being aware of doing so.

Cam’s phone buzzed abruptly and Gladio pulled away, much sooner than both of them had anticipated so she could answer. She didn't recognize the number.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Gladio slipped past her and back outside, and just like that she was alone.

Cam answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Cam?” A young female’s voice greeted her, one Cam couldn’t place to a face.

“Yes, this is she. Who’s this?”

“It’s Iris,” she replied, her voice unnaturally formal. “I got your number from Prompto, I hope that’s okay.”

Cam was surprised to hear from her. “No, that’s alright. Is there something you need?”

She hesitated, but continued after some last minute deliberation.

“Yes. I have a big favor to ask.”

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

TF2 Scout Headcanon(s)/Story:

...you know, it strikes me that, in all the fanfic from TF2 I've ever read... none of them explicitly state Scout takes his headset off when he and whoever he's paired with at the time say either cute things or get freaky. At some point, in some string of the multiverse, at least one of his teammates has to have heard something they weren't supposed to.

Spy would never let him live it down. Engineer would try to rewire the headset to auto-shutoff (unless otherwise activated deliberately) after the match, and gives a half-hearted 'Talk' to him without making eye-contact. Sniper keeps making smug eye-contact, winking at the kid, because it's hilarious to him. Pyro... no one's sure what Pyro thinks. Maybe they pinch his cheeks and mumble something. Or they're so scandalised that Engie has to have a 'serious chat' with the scout about keeping things PG 13+ on the airways. Demoman is waiting with a bottle of something after he hears something (once he realises he didn't imagine it while drunk), delighted for 'the wee lad'. Against Medic's wishes/pointed glare, he hands it over and proclaims, "If he's old enough to be shaggin' about, he can have a drink!" to the Scout's eternal embarrassment. Heavy claps the kid on the shoulder, and says nothing. But Scout knows that the Russian knows, and acts weird about it for a week before realising Heavy doesn't care enough to tell the others. Medic hauls him off to 'talk' about the situation. Making Scout suffer through the entirety of The Talk (TM), one that covered every angle, and utilised banana-based demonstrations + talking about consent. Why? Well, Scout had made the older man suffer through a very uncomfortable few minutes (until he could yank out the earpiece, jammed in his ear) and gott im himmel, was he going to repay the kind in kind.

-   

Oh... I have one worse...Okay but like, the Scouts COLLIDE mid-battle and get the WRONG headsets. Couldn't happen, right? Wrong. Medics keep turning up to the wrong locations, and Engineers are putting dispensers in all the wrong places, Snipers are trying to pick off the targets they're being told to take out but they can't see 'em whatsoever, and Spies are confusedly watching the opposing Scouts shout about grabbing the intelligences when they clearly don't have it to hand. In short, it's a little bit of chaos.

But then, of course, they go back to their respective bases and partners/etc. And suddenly both teams are confused and incredibly awkward as they hear what sounds like their Scout with certain team members. Team members who, when subtly accosted later, have no idea what's going on. And then concerns are raised that the opposing Spies might be playing games with the Scout(s)... which sets off most of BLU team, because they all know who Scout's ding-dong-red-daddy is (Red Spy) and that makes it weird. But then Engineers try to call their Scouts in to talk to 'em about the situation... and they start to realise something's up when the youngest members can't find the Engineers. "I thought you said to come in the Kitchen?" says RED Scout, confusedly staring around the empty room. "That's right, so where are you?" responds the unknowing BLU Engie, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded. "Er, in the kitchen?" - "Yo Engie, thought you were in the basement?" crackles BLU Scout, looking about the empty room. "I am, son. Y'come in here and we can have a nice chat about something..." mumbles RED Engie, focused on the dispenser he's upgrading. "Er, yeah, I would if you were IN HERE!" he gets in response, making the builder pause. "You sure, I'm two feet from the door and I ain't no cloaked Spy..." "Sure I'm sure, buddy. I'm standing on your work bench and you ain't set a sentry on me yet... so ya clearly ain't here!" - BLU Engineer gives up and orders Scout to his workshop. Pausing at the doorway to realise there's a Scout in there already... talking to... someone, and standing atop his workbench. "Git offa there, ya brat!" he shouts, startling the BLU Scout into falling off. The Scout in his headpiece makes an offended  noise... as the one he's looking dead at shrieks, and falls off the table. Landing limbs akimbo, with someone shouting in his ear, demanding to know if the Scout's alright. The demand is followed by confused silence. BLU Scout staring at his Engineer, while the other kept talking. RED Engineer tries to step out of his workshop and finds himself slammed into by the RED Scout. Who rebounds into a doorway, and slams into the floor pretty damn hard. - Things are starting to piece together... the Engineers snag their appropriately coloured Scouts off the floor, and check them over. At least one of them might have a concussion from that little bout of activity. But both of them seem to have twigged that the Engineer they're looking at isn't the one talking to them. Headsets are appropriated. "Hello? This is RED's Engineer, who is this?" "Howdy, I'm BLU's Engineer... and I'm thinking that everything's making a lot more sense now." "I'll say! Although I'm not sure how in Sam Hill these two managed to switch their headsets without realising..." BLU Scout groans, smacking a hand to his forehead. "We fuckin' collided in the last battle, sent our shit sprawling everywhere..." He gets a light cuff about the ear from BLU Engie. "Language, son." Not learning from his duplicate's mistake, RED Scout adds his two cents. "Yeah, that freaking chucklehead nearly sent us both to respawn by BONK!ing it up before comin' round a corner at me. Nearly made off with m'fuckin' bat too, ya thieving bastard!" He gets a right old whack too; not hard, just reproving. "Hey, what gives? Ya taking his side over mine, Engie? He's a BLU?!" "No, Scout, I'm taking the side of common decency. Watch yer language, son." Replies REDEngineer. "Yeah, yeah, fine." Sulks the Scout. - "Well now, it ain't hard to see how this snafu came about considerin' your Scout and mine are so damn similar." adds BLU Engineer in the silence, having heard it all through the headpiece. "Downright spooky that none'a us even realised we'd switched Scouts..." confirmed RED Engineer. Throwing an apologetic at his Scout, who looked torn between anger and betrayal at the revelation. "To be fair, son, you two sound mighty close to identical, especially when y'throw in the battle noises and such." Okay, both Engineers were getting hurt, yet petulant, expressions. "Aw don't be like that, son..." BLU tried. Immediately seeing he wasn't going to get anywhere with that line of interaction. "Now, I'm mighty sorry we hurt'ya feelings, but the whole reason I was so insistent about talking ta Scout was because..." He dropped off. RED Engineer's expression was downright priceless. "I don't suppose ya overheard something... ya weren't supposed to, involving Scout here?" "Actually, yes. Me'n the rest of the team were worried he might've been, er, tricked by the opposing Spy somehow when we heard... a kerfuffle of sorts, over the headsets -and son, ya need to turn'em off after battle, I can;t stress that enough. Except the other class involved wasn't actually 'involved' if y'get my meaning. I was looking at the person we heard what we thought was our Scout, making a fuss over... so it couldn'ta been them." BLU extrapolated. "Oh, an' if I might ask, who was it?" RED grinned, taking in the horrified expression of his Scout. Who had not caught on that both Engineers, and indeed, their entire teams, had at least a vague idea who they were not-so-sneakretly seeing. "Now RED, I ain't one to go around telling others' secrets... but you might not want to know that the restraints in the- " and here it cut out because RED Scout had grabbed the headset and was shouting over him about nothing in particular. RED Engineer's expression was priceless as he let the Scout calm down, and took back the headset. "I was kidding, son... you 'n him are fine in mah book. Don't worry about it. To be honest, I'm more concerned about BLU Scout and-..." And then it was his turn to hear a verbal barrage, even though he managed to get the Class name across anyway, shrugging. "Everyone knows already, boys, no one minds. At least, I think they're more relieved y'weren't fooled by the Spies, t'be perfectly honest. Specially since Red Spy is ya fath-..." "DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE!" BLU Scout shouts, and it sounds like a scuffle on the other end as RED team waits. When it dies down, a winded BLU Engineer comes back over the channel. "The more pressing question is how t'get the headsets back to their rightful Scouts without Her Upstairs finding out..." "Can we just pull off the slam-into-each-otha thing from yesta-day?" BLU Scout pants. "Nah, think the ol' witch'll be suspicious of that. Once is'n accident, twice without killin' each otha is a pattern." RED Scout responds. RED Engineer fights down the urge to correct his english. "Alright, then what about we get the Spies to do a straight-up, cloaked swap of the things?" "...and tell frenchie th' whole story? Are ya freakin' insane, Engie?!"  Shouts RED Scout, arms flailing, not quite in the right direction. Maybe he should take the kid to see the Doc... or uh, not, considering... He clears his throat. "Now boy, we ain't got a lotta time to right this. She'll know if we don't get it fixed by morning, in fact I think She already has a good idea what's happenin' and is waitin' ta see what we're gonna do ta fix it. So if we gotta get the spies involved, that's what'll happen." "Awww man, but... fine." RED Scout gives in, huffing like a toddler on the brink of a tantrum. He's not as stupid as some on the teams think he is, and knows full well both Spies will (mad) milk this event for all it's worth. "Then it's settled." BLU Engineer says, relaxing. "Spah, my BLU and your RED, will have ta do the exchange..." "Oh no we will not be doing ze exchange!" cries the furious RED Spy decloaking behind his two teammates. RED Scout startles into a fight pose, and Engineer holds up a wrench automatically before relaxing. "Don't be that way, Spah..." sighs the builder. "Non, give me ze headset. It has caused enough trouble so far, and I would have a word with... the BLUs involved." It is handed over with some reluctance. Before the Spy can say anything, the BLU Scout's drawl comes through. Sounding very much like he would rather be bludgeoned to death before uttering the words. "Okay, fine. But Dad, d'ya know what might happen ta us if the Admin lady finds out we not only fucked up, but we were also fucking-..." "Oui." The words cuts the kid off pretty fast. "I am aware of who else you call 'Daddy' around zis compound, and I assure you, we will be talking about zis in depth soon enough." BLU Scout chokes off a strange sound, and goes quiet. RED Scout is laughing fairly hard in the background until BLU Engineer crackles through the open headset... "Ah, son, I'd be keeping my mouth shut, considering th' things ah heard you saying to-..." "DON'T SAY IT!" "...if y'can keep quiet, so can I." teases the BLU Engineer, as the RED one looks on the Scout in bemusement -the kid's face as scarlet as his shirt. "Oh, zis is truly 'ilarious." snorts the probably-should-have-been-expected voice of the BLU Spy. "Oh, our Spah's with us too, now. I'm giving him the headset and draggin' Scout here off t'see the Doc. Took a right nasty tumble off m'work bench, and I don't think he's seein' straight..."  BLU Engineer says, excusing the two of them as the Spy gets the headset. "Well thanks fer all'a your help with this. Mighty decent of ya, considerin'..." RED Engineer says, loud enough to be heard through the line. He turns to their Spy, "Will you be right with this? I think I'm gonna take the kid t'see the Medic too... haven't seen someone eat doorway that hard since the last time Demo got Pyro wasted." "Oui." says the masked man, dismissing the pair with a hand. "It seems once again we are forced to fix mistakes made by... lesser teammates." The BLU Spy says something in french through the line, and RED laughs. Engineer rolls his eyes, grabbing his Scout. "C'mon kid, let'em have their fun f'now. Let's get your head checked out..." "Aw, Engie, d'we have ta? Doc'll probably cut me open li-..." the complaining tailed off the further down the hall they traversed. - Alone in the room, the spies made brief plans to meet, unarmed (hon hon hon, yeah right), and exchange headsets. As if nothing had happened, at all. - And it works. Except now the opposing teams know FAR too much about the opposing Scouts and their er... class preferences. They'll never hear the end of it. But at least the dragon-lady admin didn't cotton on, right? Besides, most of the teams were okay with the wole thing... and despite some new-found respect for various members, they went back to killing each other the next day. That was all that mattered, right? RED vs BLU? Downtime was for any activity you wanted... even if it meant you had say, awkward conversations with your dad about ya relationship... or even, were unable t'look ya teammates in the eyes for a few days because'a the new taunts the opposing team were using against ya (mostly the Scouts' own words, to make it worse). At least the others involved were pretty okay with it, even if their own teams ribbed them about it for a week or so. The engineers worked together, with special dispensation from the Administrator, to make adaptations to the headsets. Only active on the field, during battle... but with a toggle for emergency activation if certain fleet-footed idiots maybe fell off a cliff during a pre-match jog outside'a base or something. The last part was a surprise. Authorisation to collaborate? Unheard of! But, not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, they did it anyway. And never again did the Scouts lose their headsets, or give away far too much information about themselves to either team. - In her underground hideout, the Administrator was smoking, trying to relax. Her expression still caught in some degree of disgust over the whole affair. "Miss Pauling..." she called, and the purple-clad young woman startled beside her chair. "Yes, you. Goodness knows there's no one else here..." She huffs, realising on some level she was being unfair. And tries again. "Miss Pauling,  I need you to double-check the Engineers' schematics and find a subtle way of getting the Scouts to test the limitations of their new headsets... one that does not require your... charms." She smirks. "I do not feel they will work anymore on those two." "U-uh, anything you say, Administrator." Miss P nods, acquiescing immediately. She turns to leave, and frowns. "Is there... any particular reason for thi-...?" "Hmph. You have grown insolent, child. Why, a month ago you would not have dared to pause when given a task... and now you backtalk?" Miss Pauling freezes, assuming this is the moment when her replacement will kick down the door and put a bullet between her eyes. Before, presumably, hacking up the remains to bury in the desert somewhere... as she had done to other employees and problematic persons... But instead, the tense air is filled with a  wry, hacking laughter. Cigarette smoke wafting around the dimly-lit room like a fog. "Oh, you are a delight sometimes, Miss Pauling. I will make a woman of you yet, but it is suffice to say, that I wish to be certain there is never a repeat of this incident. The fools may not realise that their headset channels are filtered through my base of operations, but I do not ever want to have another evening ruined by a repeat performance based upon the Scouts' proclivities towards certain classes. Do you understand?" She nods in response, knowing that even with her back to Miss P, the Administrator had seen it. The older woman waves a dismissive hand. "Then GO, and let us never speak about this again, unless we need to blackmail the pair." "Yes, Administrator." She breathes and leaves the room. For some reason, Miss Pauling can't fight the grin on her face as she heads towards the external entrance. Not only did the entire situation resolve, but the Administrator had allowed team fraternisation to continue. Which simultaneously got both Scouts off her back, and proved beyond a doubt that the Administrator wouldn't give a damn about Miss Pauling's girlfriend, as long as the purple-clad young woman continued to perform her role. It was turning out alright.

[fusrodie]

6. A Kiss of Relief - for the pairing of your choice :D

Going through my askbox and holy mother of god, there was so many unanswered things. I am ashamed. Also I promised I wouldn’t write anything until I was done with the Fallout 4 DLCs but sometimes an idea hits and you need to grab it so here we go. I’m so happy I managed to write something.

Thank you for sending this, and sorry for taking forever! The pairing I’m going with is my Fallout OC, Sal, and @mininuked​ sweet Tato, Leilani.

Sweet Affectionate Moments Meme

The caps almost felt too heavy. A worn bag too big to fit in his closed hand, the payment for a job well done. Three hundred and seventy-five, counted one by one, tossed over the bar counter; the man on the other side seemed to be in no rush, double checking to make sure he wouldn’t get a bottlecap more than what they’d agreed upon. A smart move, all things considered: Sal would never rob him blind, too worried about his reputation to put his hands on money that wasn’t his, but he would always try and make his employer cough up some more caps if given the opportunity. Must have been why the man was so quiet, twirling the tips of his dirty mustache as Bruno checked the amount for himself, staring over the mercenary as if he’d never seen a more despicable creature. Quite ironic, that a man who’d paid another to cut down bandits would dare judge. But at the end of the day, the stares and huffs, disgusted tone of voice and deals done in shady corners, none of it mattered. So long as he got paid, whatever they thought of him didn’t matter.

“A pleasure doing business,” he said, raking in his hard earned bottlecaps, an amused smile on his face. A grunt was all he had gotten as a response, plus the brief tipping of a hat before the man turned around and pretended like the conversation had never happened. He followed not long after, no rush in his steps as he approached the barkeep, a handful of caps in his hand. Their exchange was silent, as it usually was - he’d push the money over, Vadim would accept it. A bottle for the road? Not this time, no, work to be done before the day is through. There are no goodbyes, they will be doing this again soon enough. The confident smile fades away after he walks out into the city.

Three hundred and seventy-five, two hundred and twenty three more before he can put his plan in motion. She knows nothing of it, or at least he hopes so; he had lied to her, too, when she’d asked why he’d been saving up so many caps lately. A small lie for a good reason, a small lie that would make her smile big. He could see it in her eyes the moment the words had left his mouth, the almost invisible turn of her lips, he had never managed to lie to her and certainly wouldn’t start now. But she had said nothing, amused but not suspicious, a quick nod and then she had buried her face in the crook of his neck like she did every night.

They didn’t speak of it again when he’d told her he’d taken on yet another odd job, escort snotty rich man from point A to B, wouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. She’d taken the old sniper rifle and slung it across her back, a smile on her face as she told him she would keep busy while he worked. A short scouting trip and nothing more, in order to become familiar with this unknown part of Boston. Jump across a few roofs, make note of interesting places, find a vantage spot from where she could easily see their camp. By the time he comes back she will be waiting, campfire lit and stew bubbling, she promises. Tomorrow they will make their way to Goodneighbor, pay a friendly visit to the Mayor, spend the night and then decide what they want to do next.

The thought of tomorrow makes him nervous, fingertips shaky and sweat dripping down his back. Tomorrow they will make their way to Goodneighbor, where he has spent all of his free time when she is away, wood splinters under his fingernails and splotches of paint he couldn’t wash off. He hopes she hasn’t noticed any of it, hopes she has no idea what it is he has been doing behind her back. Hancock had promised him he wouldn’t say a word, had even gone as far as helping him prepare the surprise. Had laughed at him aplenty, too, questioned his reasons for doing so much for a woman he’d refused to show feelings for. Had the legendary Salvador Sinclair come down with a bad case of the feelings? Sal never managed to come up with an answer.

He tried not to imagine her reaction as he made his way across the bridge and towards their camp, tried not to picture the expression on her face. Tried not to predict the words she would say, but it seemed keeping it all in check became harder and harder as he got closer to where he’d left her. He hadn’t stopped to think it through until recently - how bold he would seem, or how foolish he would seem, if it would please or offend her. The idea had come one sunny morning, after yet another night spent in a thin sleeping bag under a makeshift tent. It suited them both just fine, adventurous spirits that they were, but the risk of being ambushed was too great to ignore. Hotels could be pricey, Diamond City was too crowded, an empty home outside of a big city too difficult to defend. Hancock had given him the idea unknowingly, whining about how she’d always take so long to visit. That everything she needed was right there in Goodneighbor - good company, fun, Hancock himself. They could even set her up with a cozy place if she’d like. He could see how her eyes shined bright even when she said a pained no, she couldn’t, she wouldn’t accept it; maybe one day, when she’d saved up enough caps. He hoped she didn’t know he had been doing it for her.

His reasons were selfish, or so he told himself. After years of wandering the Commonwealth and never spending too long in one place, this would be the perfect opportunity: he’d fix her up a place, somewhere high where she could stare up at the night sky. Somewhere she could feel the sun first thing in the morning, somewhere she could be safe and sound, somewhere she could call her own. Somewhere big enough that he would fit a corner, weasel his way into something resembling the normal life he’d never had.

Tomorrow he would find out, he supposed, clutching the bag tighter, two hundred and twenty three caps more before the debt was paid. He shoves it back into his pocket when he notices faint smoke and cooling embers, no boiling stew pot, her bag nowhere to be found. A chill races down his spine when he notices the trail of blood leading where Leilani had told him she would go, hand reaching for the shotgun as he calls for her, voice hoarse as he tries to keep it low in order not to draw too much attention. Hesitant steps take him forward, tracking the splatters across the plaza and into the ruins of an old building, flashlight clicking on as he slows to a crawl and listens. He has never felt this before - this rush, this anguish. Had he come this far to lose her now?

“Lani?” He calls out again, alarmed when he gets a response this time. But it isn’t what he is expecting, a mass of decaying flesh running towards him in the cramped hallway, another hand creeping from under a door towards his foot as he tried to retreat but it is far too late. He braces for the pain as he pulls the trigger, the deafening sound of the shotgun pellet bursting out and then through flesh and bone and rotten wood. Sal almost loses his balance then, the gunshot blast rendering him deaf for a solid minute. He makes his way outside when he is sure the building is empty, cold sweat running down his neck as he tried not to think of the worst.

He is already under the moonlight when he hears it, shuffling, a pained moan. Feral bites are never a pleasant thing, but he will survive. Sal palms the knife on his hip, knows there won’t be enough time to kill the feral before it perches on him for a taste. What happens next surprises him - the barely audible sound of a suppressed shot pierces the silence, the bullet hitting its mark. It takes him but a second to understand, though a few more to spot her, dropping down a set of rusty emergency stairs to come meet him. She looks just like she did when he left her hours ago, unharmed, perhaps now a bit confused. He can tell she is about to ask him what is wrong when she approaches, worry in her features. “There you are.” He whispers when she is but an arm’s length away, and does away with the remaining distance a second later.

His arms are wrapped around her before she can say a word, his eyes firmly shut as he breathes a sigh of relief. A calloused hand brushes against her cheek absentmindedly; he plants a relieved kiss on her forehead before he can think it through. Reality hits him a moment too late. She stiffens in his embrace. Bruno is already rehearsing his apologies when he lets her go. He is surprised when he feels a gentle tug on his leather jacket, delicate hands flat against his chest and she comes in closer instead of pushing away. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he tells her, and the content sigh that escapes her is a good enough answer for him.