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asset35-maya · 3 years ago

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CALYPSO 🐚 ☕️

Part 1 & Part 2

Part 3/3:

Nines froze as the human’s body melded to his. Gavin kept his eyes shut and his lips moving. Then what he’d been bracing for finally came.

Pain.

Sweet glorious pain, blossoming everywhere Nines gripped his body. Gavin was sure that his lips would bruise under the pressure of the reciprocal kiss… that his rib cage would shatter if Nines held him any tighter… that his lungs would burst if they didn’t fill with air soon…

A wolf-whistle broke through the stunned silence in the yard.

Gavin pulled back, light-headed from the rush of oxygen and drain of adrenaline. He didn’t fall though. Didn’t even move an inch. Strong arms and a heated gaze kept him pinned.

“Of all the things in the world… why coffee?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Gavin tucked his head into the crook of Nines’ neck, cuddling closer.

“Hmm… I think weird working hours made me actually need the caffeine… but the bean snobbery just came with the rest of my superiority complexes.”

Nines laughed. It was more of an exhale than an actual laugh, but Gavin was thankful for it nonetheless.

“And you?”

Nines kissed his forehead, prolonging his answer as much as he could before finally relenting with a sigh.

“The reason you’re asking… is because running a café is just about the last thing you’d expect an android like me to be doing. And… that’s your answer. That’s exactly why I wanted it.”

“To subvert expectations…?”

“To not be the terrible thing I was meant to be.”

Gavin’s breath hitched at the depth of emotion in Nines’ voice. He didn’t dare look up to meet his eye and settled for pressing his lips to the razor-sharp jawline.

“I dunno what kinda code runs through you, but believe me when I say you don’t have it in you to be… terrible.”

Nines scoffed at that.

“How can you say that after all the shit you’ve seen me do.”

“I can say that after all the shit I’ve seen others do. Fifteen years on the job, remember? I can vouch that righteous anger is one of the least terrible things out there.”

When Nines didn’t respond, Gavin decided to move the ship out of uncharted waters. He propped himself up on an elbow and ran a hand down the android’s smooth chest.

“In fact, I think it’s downright sexy.”

That did the trick. Nines pressed Gavin into the mattress with a low growl and rolled over him, clamping his mouth over his throat. Their hips aligned and the conversation ended.

“Ralph tried hard but the machine is not working. Ralph is stuck.”

“Move. Let me see.”

Gavin took the filter holder and disconnected it from the espresso machine with a firm tug. He leapt away in shock as water came rushing out. That was absolutely not supposed to happen.

“Er… I’ll get a mechanic friend to take a look later. Why don’t you go check on inventory?”

Ralph shuffled away with a thoroughly sceptical look in his eye. Gavin sighed openly once the android was out of earshot.

The café was in shambles.

The vandals may have gotten as good as they gave… but they’d left their mark. Even with insurance, there was no way such a new establishment could financially recover from a setback like that.

Nines said nothing but seethed with his usual brand of silent, impotent rage.

Unable to bear the slammed car doors and dismissive grunts any longer, Gavin had taken a solo day off to come down to the Calypso and see what could be done.

Not much, without a boatload of money, it seemed.

He sat down with a sigh and Ralph brought over a cup of coffee. Black. A pour-over. He set a bowl of runny eggs and a small basket of bread down on the table too.

Gavin looked up in surprise. Ralph shrugged.

“Nines is telling Ralph that you left without breakfast. Ralph’s equipment is all broken so Ralph just made something simple.”

Touched beyond words, Gavin motioned for Ralph to sit down with him instead of scurrying off into the shadows as per his usual habit.

He took a sip of the hand-poured drip coffee and broke a piece of the bread, dragging it through the eggs, European style. It was utterly homely and reminded of him of some bygone era that he’d needlessly bypassed. He looked up and met Ralph’s mildly unsettling stare.

“So… why the name Calypso? There’s nothing beach-themed or Caribbean about the place.”

“Nines chose it. After the Greek goddess.”

“Huh. And she was the goddess of coffee? Did they even have coffee back in those Hercules Orgy Olympics days?”

“She is a sea nymph. She detained the mythic hero Odysseus on her island for seven years.”

Gavin’s brows furrowed as he swallowed a mouthful of fresh bread.

“Did you bake this?”

“Yes. Ralph is baking daily. Ralph does it first thing in the morning at five. It is very calming to knead the dough and hear the birdsong.”

“It’s phcking delicious. Leavened perfectly. Now back to the name. This goddess nymph creature. She doesn’t sound very nice. She trapped this hero dude, right? Reminds me of my ex. Why name this pretty café after her?”

“Ralph can only imagine that Nines’ fascination with Calypso is the ambiguity of her nature. She can seduce and manipulate, but she can also heal. She is neither good nor evil.”

Gavin drained his coffee and sank back in his chair contemplatively.

“What do you think she is, Ralph?”

Ralph’s LED flickered and his eyes dipped to the table. He knew what Gavin was asking.

“Calypso is immortal. Calypso cannot help but fall in love with every sailor who lands on her shores. Calypso dreams of an eternal husband but lets Odysseus go when it’s clear he wishes to return to his wife. Well, maybe only when the Gods commands her to… but she releases him without harm!”

Gavin waited. Ralph’s head snapped up and he spoke in a short burst.

“Calypso is mythical. It does not matter what she is. Nines is real. Nines is good. Very good. Honest and honourable! Ralph will do anything for Nines!”

Gavin leaned back in his chair with the satisfied smile of an experienced police negotiator who’d gotten exactly where he wanted to.

“What the hell is this? Where did you get so much money from?”

Nines’ amber LED cycled furiously as he took in the sight of the restored café. Ralph was humming to himself as he proudly polished the knobs of their repaired espresso machine.

Gavin led Nines by the hand to look at the repainted walls… the new furniture… the new crockery replacing what had been smashed…

“How…?”

“Oh I just embodied my inner Gen Z and tapped into the power of social justice.”

Nines looked thoroughly nonplussed.

“Crowdfunding, baby. I set up a link and Ralph told everyone on Twitter what happened to him and the café. Well, showed them, more like.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling and his LED slowly returned to a calm blue as he understood… but when he looked back down, his expression wasn’t any less troubled.

“Okay I just saw it. Edited footage from his optical units and a tearful testimonial. Ethically questionable, but clever.”

“Super effective. We overshot our target by a couple hundred bucks.”

“Hmm. People are kind.”

“Yes. They’ve actually done more for you. Look. Connor gave me this earlier today.”

Gavin reached into his jacket and produced an envelope. Nines’ eyes widened as he spotted the official seals of the Mayor’s office, the Manfred Estate and New Jericho.

“Someone started a petition… to let you back behind the helm of the Calypso. It really took off. I don’t know how you didn’t hear-”

“I muted any mentions of myself and the other RKs from showing up in my newsfeed.”

“Then this makes for a good surprise.”

Gavin gently pushed the envelope into the android’s hands and watched him open it with a precise fingernail flicked under the wax. He scanned the contents of the letter in a split second and let it fall through his fingers.

Without warning, he scooped Gavin up and set him down on a polished table for a deep kiss of even deeper gratitude. Ralph turned his back on them with a bashful giggle.

“Baby.”

Nines didn’t respond.

“Hey baby?”

“Hmm...”

There was an intensity to the grumble that had Gavin second-guessing whether to persist. Being Nines’ lover didn’t exempt him from the consequences of asking stupid questions.

“Your thoughts are fucking loud. Just say whatever you want to.”

“Oh. Um… I was actually wondering… I mean, you don’t have to tell me… but like why… um…”

“Why haven’t I turned my badge in yet?”

“Yeah…”

Nines turned on his side and brushed the back of his hand over Gavin’s cheek. The intimate gesture sent a thrill through the human despite how much more intimate they’d just been in the recent past.

“Because I haven’t decided what to do next.”

Gavin’s brows knitted together.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to take back your business?”

Nines’ wan smile told him all he needed to know.

“Why?”

“It’s doing really well in Ralph’s hands. He’s capable. He’s creative. And I don’t think it’s fair for me to go back and get in his way all of a sudden.”

“He needs you.”

“He absolutely doesn’t. It’s his café. You helped him get back on his feet and he’s going to be fiiiiine without me.”

“Is it because you don’t wanna be her anymore?”

Nines scrunched his nose up in confusion.

“Who?”

“Calypso. The siren who trapped the Oddball.”

That earned Gavin a heartfelt laugh.

“Odysseus, Gavin.”

“Yeah. You were like Calypso and now you’re letting go of the coffeeshop because you figured it wasn’t meant to be!”

Nines frowned and pretended to check the human for a temperature. Gavin swatted his hands away with mock petulance.

“Fine, I’m probably way off the mark. You tell me what the deal is then!”

Arms snaked around his waist and pulled him flush against the android’s defined chest. Lips brushed the shell of his ear and when Nines spoke next, it was in the huskiest of undertones.

“I’m Odysseus. Not Calypso.”

The realisation was painfully obvious in hindsight.

“I’m the one who’s stuck on an endless journey home. I’ve faced a hundred artificial trials and tribulations. I’ve been a puppet at the hands of false gods. I answer existential questions to prove my self-worth every single day.”

Nines paused to gauge Gavin’s reaction. When he received none, he pressed a brief kiss to the human’s bare shoulder before continuing.

“It’s been a long journey. But not a pointless one. Every metaphorical island I’ve visited has granted me something. From literally running into Ralph in an old building… to defending our turf from other stray androids… getting ourselves off the street… setting up a café from scratch… being arrested on opening day… ending up on the police force with you…”

Gavin recognised that as his cue to squirm around in Nines’ arms and peck him on the lips.

“So who’s Cyclops?”

“What?”

“The story’s starting to come back to me now. Your boy Oddy fought a one-eyed monster on one of the islands he went to. Who’s the Cyclops in your story?”

Nines huffed another breathy laugh.

“Markus, probably. Connor is definitely Helios.”

“Who’s your wife?”

“Definitely not you.”

Gavin elbowed him in the ribs. An action that had more repercussions on him than Nines.

“So which island are you off to next?”

“I have no idea. But it doesn’t matter. I might already be home.”

#reed900 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh nines #dbh rk900 #gavin900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh gavin #dbh ralph #dbh markus #dbh connor #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh writing #my writing

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theonyxpath · 5 years ago

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By Lauren Roy

Jo’s breath fogged the Perspex case, momentarily obscuring the prototype from view. Inside, the device lay dormant, all sleek silver curves and a blank interface awaiting its commands. On its own, Jo told herself, it was just a machine. It made no moral judgments. It saved lives or ended them, and the person who fed it the instructions was to thank or blame, not this lump of metal and wires.

Jo hated it a little bit anyway. She also needed it, and that made her hate it even more.

“Hey, kiddo, shake a leg, yeah?” Blake had been on edge all night. They’d gotten into DuttonTech so smoothly — fake badges letting them into restricted areas, Jo’s disguised tools sailing through security, green lights across every board. Blake trusted Jo and Dana to get them in, sure, but the fact he’d gone the last few hours without having to subdue so much as a slightly suspicious intern was making him antsy. Jo couldn’t blame him; Archangel never hired their crew for the cakewalk jobs.

But she wasn’t going to let Blake’s nerves unsteady her hands. She was elbow deep in the display case’s guts, only the last set of clamps and a weight sensor left to bypass. Easy peasy lemon-squeezy. She’d be home and in her pajamas in less than two hours, cracking a pint of victory ice cream and texting Leanne with the good news, that help was on its way. This was a killing machine in Dr. Alexander Dutton’s hands, but in Leanne’s possession? Jo’s sister could use it to save thousands.

She just had to unlatch the clamps.

Blake checked the cameras for the hundredth time. Downstairs, the security guards in their cozy little command room were watching the same looped feeds of Dutton’s lab Dana had set up hours ago. He knew the timing of their rounds, knew which guards just jiggled the occasional doorknob and which would swipe their access cards and look around the empty, after-hours rooms. He’d studied the dossiers Dana gathered for him over the last few weeks. The patrol team closest to their floor right now consisted of an ex-military type and a guy whose pre-DuttonTech police record was peppered with assault charges from bar fights. Ideally, Blake wouldn’t have to trade blows with either of them, but he believed in being prepared.

Waiting was killing him. He’d offered to smash the case when they first got here, just grab and go, but both Dana and Jo had shot him down. Something about delicately calibrated this and potentially volatile that. Of course, that described everything that DuttonTech put out these days, especially the volatile part. Blake had seen firsthand the damage the company’s products wrought. He’d wielded some of them himself, back in another life.

He’d never stop paying for that. Could never. But working for Archangel assuaged some of the guilt. He clenched his fists and tamped down the urge to find some other volatile thing and pitch it into anything that looked delicate.

Dana had six different data feeds scrolling past on her glasses’ left lens, telling her all DuttonTech systems were normal. She was jacked into the guard station’s audio, listening to two guards being wrong about the top five horror movies of all time. She’d set her little worm free on DuttonTech’s R&D servers — after, of course, she downloaded clean versions of the files to her own drive to peruse later. According to her own internal stopwatch (ONE one thousand, TWO one thousand) her team was right on schedule.

It was too bad they’d never be able to take credit for tonight, because damn, they were good. She imagined herself at some fancy Archangel cocktail party, regaling new cells with the story. Maybe she would embellish it, just a little, add in a tiny scuffle so Blake could have his crowning moment of awesome. Add in a few extra lasers for Jo to have to limbo under, and…

Click.

“Shit,” muttered Jo.

The lights in the lab went red.

There was an extra clamp. There was an extra freaking clamp, and it was so tiny and so obvious in hindsight, exactly where Jo would have put one if she wanted to protect her valuables from someone like herself. It hadn’t been on the blueprints Dana procured in one of her hacks, because of course it wasn’t. Dutton was notoriously paranoid. He’d either installed it himself, in secret, or had one of his lackeys do it and…what? Wiped their memory? Had them killed? Transferred them to a DuttonTech facility in Antarctica? Jo wouldn’t put any of that past him.

But that didn’t matter now. Their cover was blown. Dana was counting off the seconds until security got to them, her fingers flashing over her tablet’s screen. “We’re about to have company.”

Blake came and crouched beside Jo. He glanced at her hands, frozen on the prototype. “Kiddo, we’ve gotta run. Now. If you don’t have it free, you have to leave it.”

“I can’t.”

He frowned. “You stuck?”

“No.”

“Something gonna cut off your fingers if you move?”

“No.”

“What is it, then?”

Jo closed her eyes and pictured her sister’s face. “Leanne. She’s with the LRE in Caracas.”

Blake’s sharp inhale told her that he hadn’t known. Jo didn’t talk about Leanne much. He and Dana knew that Jo’s parents had been dissidents, murdered by their government for speaking out. They knew she and Leanne grew up in safe houses where they were never truly safe, and that Jo had turned to Archangel when she got old enough to be more than a charity case for the organization. That was about as much intel as Jo ever shared, because talking about Leanne made her worry. And worry had sharp, sharp teeth.

“You saw the emails Dana intercepted. Dutton’s going to sell this to the enemy, then that’s it for the resistance. This isn’t just about Leanne.”

Blake might let everyone else in Archangel think he was all muscle, minimal brains, but Jo knew better. He’d read the whole dossier, not just the guards’ vitals. “How long do you need?” His voice was deadly calm.

“However long you can buy me.”

“Get that thing out of there.” Then he was gone.

“We’re doing what now?” Dana gaped at Blake as he assessed the camera feeds on her tablet. She’d managed to lock the guards out of the elevators for the time being but couldn’t keep them out of the stairwells. One patrol had only been a few stories down.

He grunted as the patrol he was monitoring gained another landing. “We’re holding tight until Jo gets that damned thing free. What else can you do to keep them out of here?”

Dana peered around the lab. Until now, she hadn’t really let herself see everything. Sure, she knew the layout, and had a strong idea of what other projects DuttonTech’s brain trust were working on, but being here in meatspace? The temptation to start taking things apart would have distracted her from their mission. She’d kept her eyes firmly on her work and ignored the siren song of the shiny.

Now, though… She took it all in, performing a frantic inventory with a glance. “Get me a screwdriver,” she said, “and every inch of wire you can find.”

For a hasty build, it was impressive. Dana had to guess at what a quarter of the parts she found even were, but as she stared at the small mountain of electronics Blake dumped on the desk, the schematic came together in her head. The spliced wires and electrical tape meant it would never win any beauty pageants at the hackathon, but that didn’t matter.

As long as it did its job.

She dragged her cobbled-together creation out into the hall. It whined as it powered up; the highpitched tone of power gathering combined with a low, ominous hum. Dana listened a moment, until it sounded stable enough, and darted back inside. As Blake shoved a pair of desks across the doorway, Dana scuttled further into the lab and planted herself near Jo. The other woman nodded slightly, acknowledging her presence, but didn’t peel her eyes from the device inside the case.

“How are we looking?” Dana asked.

“There’s a wire on the last clamp. It’s what tripped the alarm. I’m trying to make sure it’s not going to fry the whole thing when I remove it.”

“Smart,” said Dana, then, “Oops, hang on, big noise.” On her tablet’s screen, the camera view showed two guards emerging from the stairwell. She counted (ONE one thousand, TWO one thousand, THREE) and yelled, “Blake, NOW!”

Across the lab, Blake slammed his fist down on the trigger Dana rigged. He dropped into a huddle, covering his ears.

The lab doors were, by necessity, prettied-up fire doors. Sure, deep-pocketed investors on a grand tour of DuttonTech could glance through the extra-thick glass to see scientists bustling about within, but if something exploded during a demo, those investors (and their wallets) would be safe. Now, those same doors muffled the worst of Dana’s sonic barrage. The pair of guards dropped to the ground, hands covering their ears as they writhed in pain.

The disruptor’s effects would only last for so long, though. Already, Dana could tell the pulses were losing their potency. “Thirty seconds, Jo. Then they’re back on their feet and super pissed.”

It was impossible. Jo held the wire pinched between her fingers, this hair-thin filament, and knew it was all for nothing.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Leanne, I’m sorry.

If she’d only taken one last look, she’d have spotted the trap. If she only had another five minutes, she could undo it. But time was well past up. Blake and Dana stood by the doors, their jaws set, their expressions grim. That awful thrumming pulse outside let out one last whump, and an eerie silence took its place.

If she was fast enough, faster than she’d ever been in her life, she could mitigate the damage. Not prevent it entirely, but… But enough.

Jo steadied the prototype with her left hand, readied the wire in her right.

She held her breath.

Pulled.

The spark traveled up her fingers, to her wrist, straight up to her elbow. The sharp tang of hot metal, melted plastic, and seared flesh filled the air. Had she taken the brunt of the jolt? She thought so but wouldn’t know until Dana got a look at the device later. When they were safe. Jo pulled the prototype free of its case and ignored the tingling in her fingertips. She joined Blake and Dana at the door. “Let’s go.”

In the hallway, the security guards were gaining their feet. Blake smiled.

The first one got up. He staggered as his balance betrayed him, but Blake wasn’t going to take that for granted. Guy like this? He had to fight after being pepper sprayed, tazed, or whatever the hell else they made Navy SEALs do. Sure, Dana’s device had done its damage, but Blake bet this guard was exaggerating its extent. It’s what he’d have done.

Three strides and Blake was in the ex-SEAL’s face. Sort of. The dude was a giant, six-and-half feet tall with a neck like a tree trunk. Blake only came up to his chest. His opponent swung, a short, sharp blow that would have knocked a weaker fighter flat. But Blake had training of his own. He deflected the jab, but as he’d suspected, the guard wasn’t as bad off as he’d pretended. More shots rained down, driving Blake backwards toward the lab.

A streak of red skittered down the hall toward him. Jo had liberated one of the lab’s fire extinguishers and shoved it his way. Blake danced out of the ex-SEAL’s reach and scooped it up. Only one shot at this. He swung it in a high haymaker arc, cranking the extinguisher’s heavy bottom into the ex-SEAL’s jaw. The big man went down in a graceless heap.

Blake looked back to where Dana and Jo huddled in the doorway and signaled them forward. Jo winced as she passed the first guard. Then she stopped short. “Uh. Blake?”

He thought the second guy was down for the count. It was the bar brawler, the one who should’ve been an easy takedown except…except he’d managed to unholster his sidearm and push himself to his feet. His arm wavered, but even if his aim was off, the hallway was narrow enough that he’d probably hit one of them.

“Easy, now,” said Blake. “Let’s all be calm.”

“Drop the extinguisher,” said the guard. “And you, put down the device.” He swung the gun toward Jo, and Blake felt his heart hit his stomach. That wasn’t a standard-issue piece. It was a DuttonTech special; destruction in Glock’s clothing. Blake had carried one of the previous generation himself. He’d seen what they could do, how the bullets tore up a body as they passed through.

“Okay.” Blake lowered the extinguisher, hoping to get the guard’s focus back on himself. “Look, we’re cooperating, see?”

“Oh, fuck that,” snarled Dana. She shoved past Blake, keeping to the other side of the hall from the guard — out of arm’s reach, but drawing his attention.

“I’ll shoot!” The guard whirled to follow her. His finger tensed on the trigger.

Blake barreled forward. He could never beat a bullet, but he had to try. The corridor seemed miles long, the air thickened like molasses. The guard might as well have been on the other side of the world, for all the good Blake could do. He saw the trigger pull back in agonizing detail, heard Jo screaming Dana’s name.

Dana just kept walking.

The gun didn’t fire.

Time started again, and Blake plowed into the guard at top speed. He drove him back and slammed his wrist against the wall until he dropped the weapon. Blake got a forearm across the guy’s neck and twisted to look at Dana. “What the hell?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She stopped fiddling with her eyepiece and came to stand beside him, still well out of the guard’s reach. She addressed the guard instead of Blake. “That thing that split your eardrums two minutes ago? I also had it resonating at the same frequency as the timing crystal in your shiny new gun. Probably cracked it. You shouldn’t pick it up again.” She gave Blake an apologetic grin. “I should have told you: I don’t make unitaskers. Learned it from a TV chef. Now will you knock him out, so we can go?”

Archangel paid damned well. Jo funneled most of her paychecks down to Leanne, helping to fund the revolution and keep her sister fed, clothed, and armed. With what was left, she bought tools to help with her craft. One of the first things she’d learned was, to be a good thief, you ought to have a good getaway car. So, she sunk a ridiculous amount of money into an old tank of a car and paid even more to have it tuned up, tricked out, and street legal. It had served her well so far, and now, with DuttonTech heavies chasing them through the city’s 3 A.M. streets, Jo prayed it’d get them home safe one more time.

It took 10 blocks for the black SUV to catch up to them. She’d figured a clean getaway was too much to ask, but Jo cursed the universe anyway. “Get ready,” she said, and jammed on the gas. Bullets hit the car’s frame like a sudden spate of rain. The back window spidered with cracks but held firm. She was glad she’d splurged on the bulletproofing.

The SUV sped up, drawing even with them. Jo stared ahead at the rain-slick street. The good thing about pulling off their heist so late at night was that no one drove in the business district at this hour. They had a good straightaway and, as she watched, all the lights turned green. In the rearview, Dana flashed her a thumbs-up.

Metal screamed, and the whole car shuddered as the SUV slammed into their side. Jo fought the wheel to keep them on the road. In the passenger seat, Blake swore as the door crunched inward.

PULL OVER, came a voice over the SUV’s bullhorn. RETURN WHAT YOU STOLE, AND WE’LL LET YOU GO.

Blake flipped them off.

Another sideswipe, and the car rode up on the curb. Jo swore and yanked them back onto the street, but not before she took out a row of newspaper boxes.

“You know what?” said Blake. “We’re risking our lives for this thing, I think we deserve a demo.” He pulled the prototype from the backpack Jo had shoved it in.

“Uhhhh.” Dana poked her head into the front seat. “Remember that talk we had about delicate and volatile?”

“She’s right. And I might have damaged it when I took it out of the case,” said Jo. “We don’t know what it’ll —”

But Blake was already pushing buttons, and the blank interface was responding to his touch. The options flashing by read stun, pulse, and stream, and a slider ran from low to high. Blake selected pulse and pushed the slider all the way up.

“Point it at them, not us!” Dana shrieked.

Blake turned the device and held the business end up to the window. Jo caught a glimpse of the SUV driver as he aimed. All the color drained out of the DuttonTech security woman’s face. She turned her wheel, disengaging the SUV from Jo’s car, but not soon enough. Blake slapped the automatic window button, and as soon as he could get the prototype’s nose through the gap, he fired.

THOOM.

They couldn’t see the pulse, but they felt it. Jo’s fillings buzzed. Every bone she’d ever broken ached like there was a storm overhead. The SUV flipped up and over, and for one terrible second, Jo could see what the pulse had done to the people inside, how none of their features were in the right places anymore. How everything had gone so very red. She’d be seeing that in her nightmares for years to come.

None of them said anything as they pulled away. In the rearview, Dana’s eyes were wide, her lips gone white. Blake let out a ragged sigh. The device’s interface blurred, cleared, then switched to one blinking red word:

Error.

The sun was coming up by the time they got back to their safehouse. Dana switched on the morning news while she examined the prototype. Not a word about their break-in at DuttonTech. Not a peep about a late-night car chase in the business district, nor any stories about a deadly crash. DuttonTech had covered it all up. Was that good for them, or bad?

Can’t worry about that just now. Let’s make sure we’re not going to explode first.

She handled the device gingerly, as if it might wake up and turn the three of them into human slag, but it turned out there wasn’t much chance of that. She could see the burn marks where Jo had pulled it from its kill switch. Once the casing came off, the insides were about as fried as she’d expected, even though Jo had taken some of the shock. “I don’t know how this even turned on in the car, let alone fired.”

“Is that it, then?” asked Jo. “All that work and it’s just…a hunk of metal?” She didn’t have to say her sister’s name for Dana to know she was thinking of Leanne, how she’d been counting on getting the prototype out intact to help her. Dana had made that connection long before she handed Jo and Blake their dossiers.

“Hey.” Dana set her tools aside. “First off, we’ve set DuttonTech back. They don’t have the physical prototype, and their IT group is going to have a miserable time sorting out the mess I uploaded to their servers before anyone there can even think about building another.”

Blake came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with three coffee mugs and Jo’s pint of victory ice cream. He’d declared getting out alive a sufficient win, and Jo hadn’t argued the point. “She’s right, kiddo. We’re not even close to done. If Dana can’t get this thing up and running, someone in Archangel will know who can.”

“I have an idea about that.” Dana took her mug gratefully. She was bone tired but needed to stave off sleep as long as she could. There was too much to do. “The woman who taught me to do what I do, she studied alongside Dutton back in the day. If we can find her, I think she’ll be able to fill in a whole ton of gaps.”

Jo frowned. “‘If?’”

“No one’s heard from her for a while. She went off the grid, and we don’t know why. Last place she was spotted was Brussels.” Dana set the prototype aside and tapped her tablet awake. “Who’s up for a rescue mission?

The Trinity Continuum Core Rules and Trinity Continuum: Æon are available in print from Indie Press Revolution (core, Æon) or in PDF/print-on-demand from DriveThruRPG.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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erasureeyes-blog · 7 years ago

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A discord-inspired starter for @watashi-ga-kita

Four hours. Surprisingly enough, there isn’t much to do--- aside from checking on some of those dastardly children at this point. They’re all fine, or will be soon enough. He finds himself left with his thoughts... and there are many pieces of information to sift through in his mind, little pieces of a puzzle that had been missing for some time now, fitting perfectly in the gaps and better revealing a bigger picture. Secrets are prevalent in his thoughts, festering there as he turned facts over in his mind, this way and that, deciphering precisely what they mean or lead to. The facts are simple, the implications are not. Eventually, he finds his way home, where the activity buzzing in his head doesn’t stop still, but he finds solace in two smaller presences. Their quiet, rumbling purrs do well to serve as a white noise background. Three hours. The shift in his thoughts is triggered by a nearly quiet thrum and an address. Glancing at it, he sets his phone off to the side to remain mostly unacknowledged for the time being, abandoned and to be mostly ignored. He doesn’t really need to look at it again to remember, though he does spare a moment to think out a potential route. Hm. Beyond that, his thoughts become preoccupied with a little, siren-like voice. Dinner date. Repeated, over and over, like a serpent’s whisper in his ear - only worse, because sound could be blocked out whereas the mind itself cannot. Was it ambiguous wording? Technically, yes, but- well. Hm. He’d been a little bit distracted at the time of the call, but the second one worked in tandem as a reference with his memory, the latter of which is generally pretty reliable about... most things. The voice on the other end of the line has been pretty nervous. Or ‘bashful,’ as the black-haired woman ( ‘Nana,’ he reminds himself ) had put it. He can be rather blind on this subject, but suddenly it seems painfully obvious. What, then, did he make of it? Truthfully, he wasn’t very sure. He would probably be one of the first to say that he doesn’t exactly go looking for that kind of thing. He might also admit that he wouldn’t know romantic intent or what it felt like if it literally bit him. Right now he kind of just feels like he has a stomachache, just the kind that’s settled more in the gut, like an annoying lump. What the hell does that mean? Idly, he reminds himself of the other intent behind the... date. Thinking about it makes him wince a little, and hindsight tells him that he’d acted exceptionally rashly on numerous counts - and it also tells him now that perhaps the snapshots had happened because of... well. He doesn’t know how he feels about that either--. Enough. He starts grading papers - to stop sitting here wasting time and to give himself something else to think about and do. Two hours. Grading papers proves to be more challenging than it has any right to be. Part of that is because the little black kitten he’s currently taking care of keeps trying to bite the papers and every time he scoots them gently away, they think it’s a game. At some point, he simply picks up the kitten and tucks them into his scarf to sit there because that usually calms them down, oddly enough. It works. Getting rid of the feline distraction speeds up the process, but not entirely. His mind won’t fucking shut up. He’s starting to think he has a problem. He can’t go on with this kind of hindrance to his work for very long, he’ll have to confront the issue at some point. Eventually, he asks Skimble for their point of view, as they are a wise and impartial judge. He receives a meow in answer and what he’s pretty sure passes for what would be a shrewd look from a feline. He nods and accepts this, even though it really doesn’t help. Petting the cat is at least calming, though, so he settles for that for a while. One hour. All at once, his sensibility is confronted by what he might be doing in preparation. What... should he be doing, anyway? Setting the little kitten down somewhere on the floor to let it waddle off, Shouta leaves it in the care of the older feline and sets himself to figuring out this conundrum, whilst also being aware that he needs to allot time towards actually getting to his destination when he doesn’t have anything but his own feet to get him where he needs to go. He’s sure this is fine, however, because getting ready for anything never takes him long. He deliberates his choices for only but so long before settling on wearing something simple. And comfortable. And warm. Simple dark pants and a grey loose-fitting sweater that he’s pretty sure will be fine. In addition, he trades out his typical capture weapon scarf for a more proper scarf, which just happens to harbor a galaxy resemblance and is perhaps the only source of actual color on him. Leaving his apartment behind, he makes sure that the cats within will be fine on their own and that they have ample food of their own before heading out. He’s pretty sure he has plenty of time left after finally scooping his phone off it’s abandoned corner of a table. He finally gets around to checking but not replying to any messages as he walks. Three minutes. Well. He made it with a little bit of time to spare, which is mostly a testament to his knowledge of the layout of the city and thus knowing better routes to take. Thus, he is confronted with a door. Should he wait? He is early. ...that seems a little stupid. He only waits as long as it takes for his breathing to steady, which is perhaps a minute, before simply knocking and then promptly shoving his hands in his pockets.

#watashi ga kita #[Closed Starter]#No time for leisure. [IC]#v; Those without potential will be deemed unfit. [Main verse]#(( anyway i hate this bye ))#(( launches myself out a window ))

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southernsquad · 7 years ago

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Laurence pulled up outside his old school, the revving of his new Ferrari’s V8 twin turbo engine heard from miles away, especially in on a silent night like this. Willow rarely had a non-quiet night, apart from a few sirens but that was more common on the other side of town. In hindsight, this was was not the best one to come in when he was trying to be conspicuous but, as Laurence Fox often did, he had acted before thinking and therefore had bought possibly on the most recognisable cars in town to the school that he and he group of friends, if he could even call them that, were about to break into. The fact that it was a new car, as his other had been stolen a few weeks before, made little difference as though the car was different it looked exactly the same and still bore his F0XY 1 number plate, the only changes to the model were the improvements made on the inside. In a way it was a blessing that his old car had been stolen and torched as Laurence had it ensured, and he’d got a pretty dirty video of the culprits out of it. That’s what Laurence had been watching, the flashes of the two men’s pale skin, the rough sounds of moans caught on a mediocre mobile phone mic, the mess they had left his car. It wasn’t supposed to turn him on, not the way it did. It was supposed to make him angry, and disgusted and the video did. It truly did, but not for the reason those thieves has made it.

Thanks to an impromptu moment of self discovery, Laurence was late to the party and the ragtag group of other people that were invited were all waiting at the entrance to the path up to the school for him. Laurence stepped out of his car with a certain flair, swishing his blonde hair, in a navy jumper and black jeans, he looked the picture of arrogant. As he got closer, the figures began to get more recognisable. First, he saw Theodore Saxe-Rosberg, who’s white and yellow outfit was almost as inconspicuous as his car. Theo’s golden hair was practically glowing in the artificial light, he looked even more angelic than usual. Laurence felt a little sick, as he followed the line of his arm and saw that Theo’s gentle hand was holding a stronger hand of another. Milo. The boy he’d bumped into the park, the boy who he’d drank with and been carried by and the boy who made his heart race and his palms sweaty. He was standing tall over Theo, though they were all swamped by the huge brick and iron portcullis that guarded the school and its pupils from the outside world.

Quickly, Laurence averted his eyes from the sight of their entwined fingers, and instead he found the face of Roslyn, Theo’s older sister who looked perfectly at home in the night, her long brown hair curtaining her face, the light somehow managing to hit her at the perfect angle such that all of her elegant features glowed. He was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. Laurence had spent many years trying to get into her pants with very little luck. Still, she’d asked him to come along and he couldn’t pass up on a chance to show off his bravado and play the brave, charming hero. There was something about his old school that had always terrified him, though, terrified all of the boys that attended. The bell would toll in the middle of the night as they slept in their dormitories, some days one corridor would be shockingly cold whilst the rest of the school was fine, things would go missing, boys would go missing and none of the teachers were ever seen outside of these old, ancient brick walls that guarded the school like it were a castle. Roslyn had mentioned someone going missing, a friend of her brothers, and Laurence had agreed to come and check it out too.

By default, he’d invited his new girlfriend, Ingrid Solheim, a beautiful girl who he had met at a party and now they had been together for a few weeks, things seemed to be going well. Her platinum hair and pale complexion made her look almost ghost-like, as she stood just out of the light. He saw that wide smile grow on her cheeks as he approached, and Laurence sauntered over very cooly to meet her. If Milo and Theo were going to show off their love in such a horribly obvious way, then he was damn sure going to do it ten times more.

As Laurence drew closer, he saw another figure stood almost in complete darkness. He was tall, and thin and looked very sinister as the shadows cast shapes over his face, bone structure accentuated to almost paranormal degrees. He couldn’t work out who it was, but he was talking easily to his girlfriend.

A few steps away now, and finally Laurence saw him. Damien Fucking Montague. Laurence’s worst enemy, schoolboy punchbag and his girlfriend’s ‘tea date’. He hoped they might stop that after a while, but apparently not. Apparently they were good enough friends that she had invited him along and now they were talking without him knowing. Laurence hated his too-pretty face, he hated the way he held himself and he also hated the way Damien looked at him as their eyes eventually met.

Damien himself, was more than shocked to see Laurence. When the ferrari had pulled him, he supposed Roslyn might have invited him, though for what reason she might have for doing so escaped him entirely. Now it made sense, why Ingrid was here with a bunch of relative strangers. Laurence. He was the other man. Laurence Fox, the boy who had made his school life no less easy than his home life, a face he hoped he’d never had to see again was here and worse still, he was the man Ingrid had chosen over him, he was the final victor in their lifelong feud. He watched as the pair embraced, feeling his heat sink deeper into his chest. The mystery of tonight had enticed him, the Romaticsims of a haunted school had convinced him to come, though in truth it was the invitation from Ingrid that had cemented it. Damien both loved and despised this place and now he would have to walk around it with the girl he loved, and the boy she loved who also happened to be the man he disliked more than anyone on earth. It was like a soap drama. Woefully, he looked to Roslyn and then moved slowly to her side. Hopefully, though his expressions were distorted by the harsh light, she understood a little of how he felt right now.

#Damien #Laurence #Theo #Milo #Roslyn #Ingrid #wildewillowstarter #jvstkids #SORRY ITS RUBBISH

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closedspeciesdrama · 8 years ago

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drama supper

Hi it’s me varigo. tbh I was super stalking this blog when stuff came up about me and mohnot, really interested to see unfiltered opinions and trying to decide whether or not I was being too sensitive about the whole situation. Honestly, I’m not ok with mohnot and what they’re doing AT ALL and I haven’t done anything about it because 1, I had faith that copying me was a phase and they’d find their way eventually and 2, I have Big anxiety. But I’m over it. Here’s the story. It’s kind of long so you could just look at the images and decide for yourself how you feel.

Last summer I got a few concerned notes about these adoptables who’s skull faces were similar to mine. I’m not possessive about skull face creatures, people made them before me and people will make them after me. I am possessive about the specifics of my art. It’s small stuff, but it’s /my/ stuff.

These are the adoptables One thing I really can’t stop myself from saying is that these designs are kind of hella? But I feel like I can’t trust any of mohnot’s work based on my experience and the experience of others. If you’re interested, I could bother another artist they’ve definitely “referenced” and see if they still have the screencaps.

Side by side of their adoptable and one of mine. Obv not traced but also obv referenced. They even included the structural line across the bridge of the nose that I hadn’t erased.

This was the first time anything like this had ever happened to me, but idk. I think I handled it as well as I could.

sorry about the weird order, they deleted the conversation as it went on. I just didn’t want to let the copied skull thing go without having done anything. The people who bought the designs at least had a right to know, I think? They didn’t reply after 3. In hindsight, “I don’t want this to be more complicated than it has to be” sounds way more threatening than I meant for it to. I just meant I didn’t want to have to go around noting people and then have mohnot deny they referenced my stuff. Which is what happened anyway so whatever.

I omitted usernames but if it’s needed, I’ll ask them if they’re ok vouching for me. One buyer wasn’t happy with the similarity and the other one already knew. Mohnot refused them refunds which is her right I guess. Wasn’t really a big deal.

–

These adotables went up a little while after that. The species is a little too close for comfort but I would have let it go. It’s the fact that mohnot had stolen from me before stacked on top of the stolen (or referenced, idk) designs and palettes. and not 2 b petty but ‘son of mars’ is a name i’ve used for one of my adoptables in the past http://varigo.deviantart.com/art/Tiny-siren-flatsale-closed-547974600 which someone else said to me was probably done to spite me. I don’t know, I just thought it was weird.

This time I was annoyed and I made a journal asking people not to buy these adoptables. I deleted the journal a little while ago because I thought they were done.. referencing my stuff and I didn’t want to needlessly besmirch them, but please believe that I was gentle as All Fuck and asked people not to comment. A couple people did anyway but I was mad and of the mindset “If I can’t stop mohnot from stealing my stuff, I can’t stop people from getting mad about them stealing my stuff”. You can fault me for being too salty. I was really, really salty. The adoptables were deleted.

–

These adoptables went up a while after that: http://mohnot.deviantart.com/art/adopts-batch-closed-655965431 Honestly… not too bad? The anatomy is, again, a Little too close for comfort considering my history with mohnot, but, again, I WOULD HAVE LET IT GO, EXCEPT there was now someone else with a similar style also referencing my designs.

obvious:

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-655753678 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/77-Swamp-Lord-612040451 (mine)

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-655994465 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/71-Pretty-Poison-610055510 (mine)

debatable:

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-655572763 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/76-Monster-Under-the-Bed-610057203 (mine)

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-656741770 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/103-Champagne-Supernova-626537324 (mine)

Didn’t help that mohnot left comments on their profile. I figured they were friends.

I made a quick journal, agian, just asking people not to buy the designs. This journal was maybe a bit crass and short, I didn’t feel like preaching like last time. I just said, “these make me uncomfortable, don’t buy them”. Mohnot sent me a note this time.

I highlighted bits that confirmed that they had lied to me about not referencing my work in the past. As you can see, I wanted to communicate that I didn’t like the similarities but I’d be willing to drop it.

Can I point out that I’m being way nicer than I need to be?? I’m literally complimenting them because fuck it, they make some really cool designs! But like I said earlier, how can anybody know what’s original and what’s been referenced from another artist? That’s speculation, don’t take it to heart I guess.

Deviantion linked in the note: http://ospone.deviantart.com/art/Adopt-NUMBER-2-620895283 tbh I’m really confused about this part, because I /know/ for a fact that she had left a sarcastic comment on this deviation along the lines of “how dare you steal from varigo, you scum!!1” obviously mocking me and the people who were defending me. But comments can’t be deleted and there aren’t any hidden comments, so i honestly don’t know what happened there. You can trust me on that or not, maybe someone else who saw it can vouch for me.

Anyway, that was the end of that. Journal deleted /literally/ minutes after I posted it.

–

Then the drama on this blog happened and I read everyone’s opinions and the general consensus that mohnot was not stealing from me, and I got a little salty because I have proof that she was, but I was going to let it go. Her species seemed to be going in it’s own direction so I thought eeeh fuck it.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE!

http://mohnot.deviantart.com/art/Carvitalium-676880425 (hers)

This was uploaded just a little while ago. Her species reference sheet is, again, too close for my comfort. The layout I could let go but a lot of the artwork is referenced from my species sheet and I’m just not ok with it.

http://varigo.deviantart.com/art/Chittercida-651789351 (mine)

And now I see that she’s not going to stop. Like… listen, it’s not the worst thing in the world. idk maybe she’s bullying me because I’ve been such a puss through the whole thing. Maybe she likes that I keep coming back to this, but, not trying to buy your pity, I’m anxious as hell and I don’t know what the right thing to do would be. I guess… I just want people to know I’m unhappy with it. And I just want people to know the history behind this so they can come to their own conclusion. You read the whole thing and you’re not on my side? Honestly, that’d be fine. Just so long as the facts are all out there in the open.

I hope this filled your drama quota bc tbh I feel a little refreshed after letting it all out. Cheers. I won’t judge you if you still like mohnot’s stuff. I will be a little salty though. But whatever.

This is the proof that was needed so thanks for posting -M2

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csdproof · 6 years ago

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Varigo vs Mohnot + Mishelk

Varigo vs Mohnot + Mishelk Chittercida Knockoffs

There’s a few that Varigo didn’t mention that I think are fairly similar? Judge for yourself

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-O-P-E-N-656776568

http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/90-Interstellar-614338963

- Debatable, most of the design is covered in long black fur but the striping and gradient on the side, head and overall palette look ‘borrowed’ from the chitter

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-655994465

http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/71-Pretty-Poison-610055510

- I’d say very very similar. Horns, skull, ears same, markings taken basically entirely, also took the piercings/jewelry?? and tongue colour.

Also possibly a fairytail knockoff??

http://mohnot.deviantart.com/art/adopt41-closed-664455138

http://cheepers.deviantart.com/art/Fairytail-Auction-4-Closed-581044075

- Very debatable, but I’ve come back to the comparision a few times. Smaller but? popiular species I think

It KILLS ME that I do actually enjoy some of the art of Mohnot + Mishelk, but if I can’t tell what’s original and what’s stolen/‘borrowed’ I’m not going to buy/commission them intentionally

Which is unfortunate as they do some nice outfits and ornate stuff

drama supper

Side by side of their adoptable and one of mine. Obv not traced but also obv referenced. They even included the structural line across the bridge of the nose that I hadn’t erased.

This was the first time anything like this had ever happened to me, but idk. I think I handled it as well as I could.

–

obvious:

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-655753678 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/77-Swamp-Lord-612040451 (mine)

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-655994465 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/71-Pretty-Poison-610055510 (mine)

debatable:

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-655572763 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/76-Monster-Under-the-Bed-610057203(mine)

http://mishelk.deviantart.com/art/A-D-O-P-T-C-L-O-S-E-D-656741770 (theirs) http://chittercida.deviantart.com/art/103-Champagne-Supernova-626537324(mine)

Didn’t help that mohnot left comments on their profile. I figured they were friends.

Anyway, that was the end of that. Journal deleted /literally/ minutes after I posted it.

–

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE!

http://mohnot.deviantart.com/art/Carvitalium-676880425 (hers)

http://varigo.deviantart.com/art/Chittercida-651789351 (mine)

#OldIssues

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