#my only course of action is to smash all my technology before i find out and move to lancaster to live with the amish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

The Only Course of Action

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: John, Scott

John’s job is to watch and listen, but sometimes he’s also the last resort.

Another @badthingshappenbingo this time with the square “Cradling Someone in Their Arms” - featuring a non-Virgil brother (as requested by @melmac78).

I’m still taking prompts for non-Scott TAG characters for the other squares! I have at least one character per prompt for most of them now, but I’m always up for adding more (sometimes it’s that addition that gives me the spark I need!)

John was fully trained in the field, just like his brothers. He had to be – flexibility was a necessity in a small organisation like theirs. Like Alan, he specialised in space rescues, working in zero-g where one wrong movement, one accidental snare could kill him and the people he was trying to rescue in seconds, but he’d scraped up a respectable enough level of experience of Earth-based rescues, too.

That didn’t mean he ever felt as comfortable on them. Experience was the greatest teacher of all, and when it came to experience in the field, he ranked below even Alan now. Really, that shouldn’t matter. His primary role wasn’t Earth-based rescues. Those weren’t even his secondary role – space rescues took that honour, for when Alan needed a little bit of backup or the rescue was close and simple enough to Thunderbird Five that a little trip EVA would sort it.

No, John’s role in International Rescue was to watch and listen. Calls came in and he answered them, reassuring distressed, anonymous voices (not so anonymous, he remembered the names and faces of everyone who ever called) that help was on the way as he mobilised his brothers. Scott was commander, but John was dispatch – an arrangement that worked for both of them. Scott was impulsive, too impulsive to make the cold calls on which rescues to attend and which rescues were a lost cause. His elder brother knew that he didn’t mobilise them for every call that came through, of course, but John never gave him the details of the rescues they didn’t do and Scott never asked.

It wasn’t just the victims he watched and heard. He watched over his siblings every time they launched, locating potential issues and sorting them out before those on site fell afoul of them, and most of the time, that was enough.

Sometimes, it wasn’t.

Alan was on an asteroid mine with Kayo, helping a panicked crew repair their life support while Thunderbird Three supported them in the meantime. Thunderbird Two was in the Peruvian alps with Virgil and Gordon on board, assisting with a mudslide that had buried a village. Scott and Thunderbird One should have been with them, but another call had come in from the Himalayas – a small party had found themselves stranded on the peak of a mountain – and John had diverted his eldest brother to help them instead. The plan was for Scott to pick up the party, take them to safety, then go to assist Thunderbird Two with the long slog the mudslide would be.

John hated it when things didn’t go to plan.

“Scott!” he called, the direct line to his brother’s comm open. “Thunderbird One, are you receiving me?”

He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t panicking at all. Panic was unnecessary, a hinderance in his role that he’d long since mastered. Except he was, because Scott was alone, approximately halfway down Malaku, and had suddenly stopped responding after letting out a single cry.

“The line!”

His altitude had dropped sharply, there had been a heart-stopping crunch from Scott’s end, and now there was nothing, no matter how much John tried to rouse a response. The comm channel was still open – John could hear slow, too slow, shallow, breathing – but that just made it worse. It was one thing being cut off by technology; it was another entirely to know he was getting through but still hearing no answer.

Thunderbird Two was almost as far away as it was possible to be, over on the other side of the world. Even at top speed, leaving immediately, it would take Virgil and Gordon two and a half hours to get there, but they still had their own rescue to complete – a long slog of a mudslide that would keep them tied up for at least another hour, if not longer. Alan and Kayo were even further away, time and distance wise, and likewise were tied up where they were until they finished the repairs. Between the two rescues, there were over a thousand lives at risk.

John wanted to say Scott was worth those lives, but that was the scared little brother in him talking. One life, no matter who it was, was not worth a thousand, and such a selfish act from International Rescue would jeopardise everything they’d worked for. None of his brothers would ever forgive him, Scott least of all.

He should contact the GDF, call in one of the many favours he had hoarded from Colonel Casey to get them moving, or even Lady Penelope and Parker, but the latter were in England and FAB1 would take too long, and the GDF – even with Colonel Casey on their side – couldn’t mobilise without a pile of paperwork and other red tape. They, too, would take hours.

It was, at minimum, two hours before anyone could realistically get to Scott and the party he’d been trying to save.

Scott’s suit telemetry told him two hours was too long. His heartbeat was too fast, his temperature too low, and red lights were flashing up all over the place, highlighting irreparable damage to the flight suit itself. He couldn’t get the full picture from it, but he could get enough to know that Scott needed medical attention urgently, and was highly unlikely to regain consciousness.

John’s role was to work as dispatch, surveying the availability of all personnel at his disposal and highlighting the most efficient solution from the options they had. Thunderbird Two was, at minimum, three and a half hours away from being able to assist. Thunderbird Three, ten. FAB1, seven. The GDF, depending on the speed of their bureaucracy, two. None of those were good enough.

Thunderbird Five, nine minutes to reposition, fifteen to descend. Twenty-five minutes total response time, accounting for the time it would take to enter and exit the space elevator.

Acceptable.

“EOS,” he said, already moving for the controls to move his Thunderbird. “I need you to take over space monitor duty.”

“Of course, John,” the AI agreed – her existence was a blessing; with two other rescues as well, one of which requiring constant monitoring, without her there was no way John would have been able to leave Thunderbird Five. “How would you like me to address the authorities?”

“Use my face.” They shouldn’t do that – it was dangerous, and Scott had forbidden her from ever impersonating him again – but it was better than letting her existence slip out to the wider world.

“Should I inform your brothers about the situation?” she asked, and John thought for barely a moment.

“Once they’re finished with their rescues,” he said. “Or if they ask.” They didn’t need the distraction.

“I understand.”

Strictly speaking, John should apply for permission to move his Thunderbird. There were many other satellites also in geostationary orbit, mostly GDF, and the shift from Tracy Island to Malaku was reasonably substantial.

There was no time for that. He’d pull strings later to deal with the fallout once Scott was safe. Thunderbird Five’s thrusters engaged.

He spent the nine minutes familiarising himself with the layout of the immediate area, memorising Thunderbird One’s current position, the location of the party, and his brother’s suit telemetry, before equipping himself with everything he’d need for the descent and whatever he’d find down there. Helmet, with a full supply of oxygen. Grapple lines, as many as he could carry. Emergency first aid kit, Earth-rescue version.

All the while, he stayed on the line with Scott, trying to get some reaction from his brother and wishing he could ignore the ever more alarming readouts from his suit.

He continued to stay on the line as Thunderbird Five’s braking manoeuvres completed and he charged into the space elevator, instructing EOS to lower it as fast as possible. The AI being Scott’s firm ally on anything regarding safety, it wasn’t much faster than his usual descents, but it was enough to cut a minute off of the predicted fifteen minutes as it latched onto a crag on the side of the mountain and the doors opened – only after some overrides, because it wasn’t designed to let him out anywhere that wasn’t deemed ‘safe’. He was glad Brains had agreed to those as he fired a grapple at the cliff wall above him, another safety line latching him on the space elevator itself for added security, and let gravity take hold of him.

EOS had homed in on Scott’s location signal when she’d lowered him, meaning that the crumpled blue figure was barely twenty feet below and to the left. Even for John, less experienced on Earth-rescues and general enemy of gravity, it was a simple enough feat to swing down onto the ledge where his brother lay.

Scott’s helmet was smashed open like an egg – one of Grandma’s eggs, where the shell went everywhere, rather than being neatly split in two. Instantly, John could see that that had saved his life, although with the air thin, it had deprived him of valuable oxygen in return. Blood stained the snow and protruding rocks. Head wounds always bled a lot, and as John crouched down by his brother he could see that this was another case of it looking worse than it really was.

That scale, of course, was subjective. There was still a large gash running along his temple and down his jaw, and a slight depression in the skull when John lightly probed through blood-matted hair with his gloved fingers. None of that was remotely good, but Scott wasn’t dead, and John clung to that knowledge as he continued his assessment, pulling out the medical scanner. He wasn’t Virgil, couldn’t diagnose injuries without the assistance of technology, but he was here and Virgil was the other side of the world, potentially still oblivious to what had happened.

Scott’s left arm was bent at several wrong angles, and even John didn’t need the scanner to tell him that there were multiple breaks. His clavicle had also snapped, but mercifully his spine and neck were undamaged, according to the scanner. His left leg had also broken – clean breaks to the tibia and fibula – but otherwise the flight suit had done its job well.

“Scott?” he called, scavenging a splint from his supplies to immobilise the arm and leg before he cautiously rolled his brother over, pulling him into his arms. Blood from the gash had drenched the right side of his face and it was with trembling fingers that John wielded antiseptic to clear it away. “Scott, wake up.”

It was an exercise in futility; Scott was well past regaining consciousness. His body was limp against John’s chest, across his knees, and they needed to move.

“EOS, remote pilot Thunderbird One to my location.”

She didn’t respond, but the roar of the VTOL was answer enough, Scott’s beloved Thunderbird soaring into view. There wasn’t room for her on the crag John and Scott were on, but the fast response craft was small and nimble enough to land on a larger area, about a hundred yards away.

“Is that close enough?” the AI asked him. “There is no closer landing location, but there is the option of leaving Thunderbird One in a hover closer to your location.”

John looked at the terrain separating them. It was rough, but not unsurmountable. Dealing with a Thunderbird One in mid-air, where the wind could gust around and dislodge her at any moment, was ill advised in comparison.

“That’s perfect, thank you, EOS,” he assured her. A twist and he released the line still clipping him to the space elevator, looming above him but fundamentally useless at this point. “Retract the space elevator and return to regular geostationary orbit before the GDF notice we moved.”

“F.A.B.” The thrusters on the bottom of the elevator engaged, and John hunched over his brother as the clamps released their grip on the crag and the entire thing lifted up and away. Now he had to get moving.

First priority: get Scott to Thunderbird One and finish administering emergency treatment.

Second priority: pick up the stranded group, thereby completing the rescue.

Third priority… “EOS, find me a hospital for head trauma.”

“Yes, John.”

Third priority: get Scott and any other injured people to professional treatment as quickly as possible.

It was a simple plan, but the first hurdle was undoubtably crossing a hundred yards of craggy and snow-covered mountain with an unconscious brother to reach Thunderbird One and relative safety. The route didn’t look too difficult, although the snow added an additional level of complication – Tracy Island had a wonderfully craggy volcano they’d all trained on, but snow just didn’t exist there.

Transporting Scott across the distance was the main complication. None of his injuries would be exacerbated by being moved, but he was still tall and muscular – and John was straight out of orbit. Still, there was no real choice and John was a Tracy, just like the rest of them. Giving up wasn’t in his vocabulary, not in any language, so with gritted teeth he slipped out from underneath Scott’s limp body and repositioned himself so that he could slide his arms beneath Scott’s shoulders and thighs.

A grunt of effort escaped him as he straightened, staggering backwards under the weight and colliding with the mountain behind him before he managed to find his balance. A trickle of snow slid down to land beside him, dislodged by the contact, and he froze, ears searching for any sound of further movement. Larger, heavier movement, whether it be boulders or snow.

There was none, and he dared to breathe a sigh of relief before looking down at Scott and readjusting him as best he could so that his head was cushioned against his shoulder rather than lolling limply, enslaved to gravity.

His head was still bleeding, fresh blood spilling over where John had cleaned the wound once already, and that was more than enough incentive for him to take a careful step forwards, staggering a little to keep his balance under the combined challenges of Scott’s weight and gravity, followed by another, and another. Hurrying wouldn’t do him any good at all; the terrain was treacherous and he’d proven several times at home that he could trip over his own feet if he wasn’t paying enough attention. Falling, dropping Scott, would be disastrous, so he ignored the instincts screaming that he had to hurry, that they were in danger, that Scott needed attention urgently, and took his time.

His line to Scott was, somehow, still open, his brother’s slow, shallow breathing providing both background noise and something to focus on. As long as he was breathing, he was alive. John’s grip on his brother tightened, pulling him in as close as he dared as he kept his slow, staggering pace towards the silver Thunderbird.

With the possible exception of Thunderbirds Four and Shadow, Thunderbird One was the Thunderbird John had spent the least amount of time in. Thunderbird Five was his home, and Thunderbird Three was often boarded for rescues, while Thunderbird Two was his ride whenever he did go out on an Earth-rescue, but Thunderbird One? That was all Scott’s, all speed and responsiveness. John was none of those things, had never cared for going fast or joyriding like his big brother did.

But for all that he hated gravity, he was surprisingly at home with acceleration – most likely because that was a necessary requirement to get into space in the first place – so in that regard, Thunderbird One didn’t phase him at all. Therefore, it was with less trepidation about handling his brother’s Thunderbird and more concern about his brother himself that he staggered his way up the boarding ladder and called up a jump seat to situate his still-limp big brother in.

The jump seats weren’t designed for comfort, or indeed anything other than short hops when Thunderbird One had to take a passenger, but they did at least have additional straps that the pilot seat didn’t. The Thunderbird couldn’t carry injured like Thunderbirds Two through Four did, with room for a stretcher and the full medical kit to go with it, but she did still have the basics.

Enough straps to keep the patient immobile, a rebreather to supply oxygen, and equipment for some field stitches to temporarily close wounds until the professionals – or Virgil – got at them.

Time was still vital, not just for Scott but for the party still in need of pickup, so John had to work quickly, mopping away the blood from the gash and cleaning it to make sure nothing had got in the wound before stitching it up and placing a large gauze over it.

Scott still didn’t respond, slack in the seat, and John swallowed once, allowing himself that one weakness, before he settled himself in the pilot seat and carefully brought them up into the air. Contrary to popular belief amongst his brothers, he did frequently train on the sims – or at least, their Thunderbird Five equivalent – and while holographic controls didn’t feel like the real thing, Thunderbird One responded to him contentedly enough.

Scott’s plan had been to remote pilot Thunderbird One above the mountain while he himself grappled his way to the party to assist them in boarding. John knew that he couldn’t do that – this rescue was not going to be as flawlessly smooth as perhaps the stranded people were hoping – so he was left with the slightly cruder option of taking Thunderbird One high up, until he was above the mountain, and lowering the cargo net.

Technically the cargo net wasn’t for humans, but there was nothing else in Thunderbird One’s arsenal that he could confidently use in the situation. He wasn’t Scott – or Alan, or any of his brothers with their Earth-rescue experience – but he was a problem solver. It was a bonus that none of the hikers complained about the unorthodox nature of their rescue – and that none of them were injured, just cold from the exposure to the elements for too long. Some foil blankets, warm drinks, and reassuring words (easier done from space, but John just pretended they were holograms and not living, breathing warm bodies until the stutter vanished) and he was back in the pilot seat, glancing back worriedly at Scott before punching the fastest Earth-Thunderbird in the fleet towards the local hospital.

They were expecting him, thanks to EOS, although there was some minor confusion when they believed it was him they’d been talking to and John scrambled to pretend he knew what their conversation with EOS-as-John had entailed while the AI filtered a recording through his helmet. The hikers disembarked under their own steam, being dragged inside by the kind doctors for assessment, but it fell on John to get Scott out.

It was easier to pick him up the second time around. Thunderbird One was a far more stable place to be than halfway down a mountain, so John had less to worry about with his balance or feet, and Scott being in a chair made him much easier to slip his arms under him and lift him up. He held him close, grip almost possessively tight as he carefully made his way down the boarding steps.

No longer wearing his helmet, Scott’s breathing wasn’t a steady sound in his ear. Instead he focused on the sensation of breath tickling his jaw from where Scott’s head rested in the crook of his neck and the rise and fall of his chest promising that he was still alive. A large part of John was reluctant to let go again, his hold lingering as he gently set Scott down on the offered stretcher; not because he didn’t trust the doctors to help Scott, but because letting go meant being left blind.

Normally when a brother was hospitalised, John was up on Thunderbird Five, obtaining access to the hospital’s cameras, systems, and keeping track of everything to do with his brother until visitors were permitted – at which point he either came down, if it was serious, or metaphorically handed over watch-duty to his family on Earth and began working out what had gone wrong and how to make sure it didn’t happen again.

John wasn’t on Thunderbird Five this time. John was in Nepal, watching his brother being hurried into the building, away from him, knowing that there would be no more news for him for some time. EOS was amazing, but John had always done that bit himself, and with her still handling two other rescues, hacking into a hospital would not be on her priorities.

Scott was taken inside, and John was left standing alone underneath his brother’s Thunderbird, unsure. What was the procedure now? What did his brothers do when they were left alone, unable to follow? Did he stay with the Thunderbird until someone else arrived, or did he go in and sit in the waiting room, closer but still too far away?

His comm sparked to life. “John!” Virgil. Worried Virgil. This was something he could handle. John took a breath and answered.

“Receiving you, Virgil.”

“EOS just told us about Scott,” his brother started, confirming John’s suspicions. “What’s his condition?”

“His left arm, collarbone and leg are broken,” John reported, feeling some twisted comfort in being able to fall back on facts. “He’s also suffered a head injury. The hospital staff have just taken him in for treatment.”

“Conscious?” Virgil demanded, and John shook his head. The worry on the holographic face deepened, frown lines clearly visible. “Gordon and I are clearing up here. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

“F.A.B.” Two and a half hours until they arrived. Two and a half hours of not knowing, of waiting in silence with nothing to distract him.

His glove was red. Scott’s blood. He swallowed.

He definitely wouldn’t get any information waiting out by Thunderbird One. Slowly, he walked out from under her shadow, bringing up the remote controls to lock her down and hearing the robotic hiss of the boarding ladder retreating before the cargo bay doors swung shut with a barely-there clunk. Satisfied that the Thunderbird, at least, was dealt with, he strode towards the main door of the hospital.

IR blue was a language all on its own. He didn’t even need to dredge up what little Nepali he knew without the help of a translator to explain why he was there or hope they spoke a mutual language. As soon as they saw him, he was ushered through into what was clearly a waiting area, complete with a machine that no doubt served bad coffee. John declined a drink before settling down in a corner, away from the doors but where he could see the entirety of the room, to wait.

Inactivity did not suit John at all. While his suit had the most technological capabilities out of all of them, it didn’t lend itself to some of the less authorised access he liked to obtain, and even if he could, hacking into the hospital while he was in it was just begging to be caught, no matter how good he was. Likewise, most of what he could do was based on the secret side of IR they didn’t let the public see, and even taking back mission control from EOS was inadvisable, leaving him with nothing to do but sit still and try not to stare at the blood on his glove.

In a way, he was glad that his younger brothers weren’t with him. While he wasn’t Scott, didn’t distract himself from inner turmoil by big brothering anyone he could, especially his own younger brothers, there was still a mild compulsion to put on a brave face for them, reassure them that things weren’t as bad as things seemed. On the other hand, if they were there, he wouldn’t be alone.

He didn’t even have his phone. He didn’t need it on Thunderbird Five, his Thunderbird linked in to everything without the need for something that needed frequent charging and didn’t like a lack of gravity. No phone, no tablet, just the limitations of his uniform-based comm and blood on his glove.

He should probably wash that off. Realistically, he knew there wouldn’t be any news yet; it took time to reset bones, never mind the brain scan and whatever would need to be done from that. The maximum five minutes it would take him to locate a bathroom and clean his glove would not run any risk of him missing some vitally important news.

John didn’t move.

He was still there, staring at the blood, when the roaring engine that could only be Thunderbird Two came into earshot. Virgil tore into the room a few minutes later, Gordon hot on his heels, and suddenly he was bracketed by younger brothers. Neither touched him, but something warm settled in his chest.

Not alone. He wasn’t alone anymore.

“No news?” Gordon asked, his voice telling John he already knew the answer.

“Not yet,” he confirmed. Gordon slumped, amber eyes flicking around the room as if hoping news would miraculously appear.

“Your glove,” Virgil said. He spoke quietly, his worry for Scott bleeding through, but his intent was clear. John balled the hand into a fist. “We’ll let you know if we hear anything.”

It was a clear demand, but it was what John needed to move, dragging himself to his feet and belatedly feeling the drag of gravity and his too-rushed descent. His hip hit a table and he stumbled, but Virgil was there, holding him up.

“You okay by yourself?” Gordon asked, openly concerned.

No. “I’ll manage.”

He made his way out of the room, hand trailing along the wall for stability, following the signs to the nearest men’s bathroom and sagging against the sink. His reflection looked back at him in the mirror, gaunt and pale. Nothing particularly unusual, considering his lifestyle. A lack of both sun and regular sleep, on top of his naturally pale complexion, frequently left him looking sickly. His brothers were reluctantly used to it. John didn’t spend much time in front of a mirror.

Tearing his eyes away from his reflection, he slowly put his glove under the faucet, letting the water gush out as his movement was detected. It quickly ran red, picking up Scott’s blood and swirling it away, down the drain. He watched it, not interrupting, for a minute before beginning to rub away where it had dried and clung to the ridges in his uniform. Only once it was clean did he stop, holding it out under the dryer to blast away the molecules of water clinging to it in the blood’s place.

News took another hour to arrive. By then, Virgil had poured himself a cup of the coffee, making a face but drinking it nonetheless, while John had played it safer with a teabag and hot water for a passable drink. Penelope wouldn’t have agreed, but John needed the caffeine. Gordon had stuck with water, and seemed to have the cup in his hands mostly to have something to occupy them with. The water was long since drunk, and the cup had been methodically torn to pieces.

“International Rescue?” The doctor’s English was halting but understandable. He was looking at John, presumably recognising him as the one to bring Scott in.

“How is he?” he asked, pulling himself to his feet. The doctor frowned at him in concern and he remembered the pale, gaunt face in the mirror. No doubt a point of concern for a medical professional. To John’s relief, he refrained from commenting.

“He will be fine.” Beside him, he heard Gordon sigh in relief, both his younger brothers sagging in his periphery. “We have set all the broken bones. The cut is stitched and his skull repaired. You can see him now.”

John knew better than to expect to see Scott awake, so he wasn’t disappointed to find his brother still unconscious when he was led into the room. Behind him, Virgil made a beeline for the medical information stored at the end of the bed, but John left him to it, instead approaching his brother.

A large chunk of his hair had been shaved off, which John knew his brother wasn’t going to be happy about, and what remained stuck out oddly from the bandages, giving Scott a dishevelled look. Stitches and gauze – no longer John’s field treatment, but professional grade – covered the gash down his face, while his arm and leg were wrapped in cast.

Somehow, he looked worse now than he had done on the mountain. John wasn’t tactile, not like his brothers, but he found himself reaching out for Scott’s uninjured shoulder. As he made contact, an arm snaked around his own shoulders. Startled, he looked sideways to see Gordon, a small smile on his face.

“He’ll be fine,” Virgil said from his other side, and John glanced across at him before returning his attention to Scott, motionless on the bed. “The brain scans all came up clear. Once he regains consciousness it’ll be safe to take him home, and then you won’t be able to escape fast enough.”

Virgil wasn’t wrong; John much preferred to tackle a grounded Scott from the safety of space, where he could mute him when he got too annoying.

That was in the future, once Scott was awake and John was fed up of his complaining. Right now, John was where he needed to be – by his brother’s side.

#badthingshappenbingo #bad things happen bingo #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #eos #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #thunderangst #thunderwhump

48 notes · View notes

dukereviewsmovies · 4 years ago

Text

Duke Reviews: Mortal Kombat 2021

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews Where Today I'm Looking At The 2021 Mortal Kombat Movie...

Now, I Bet You're Asking Me, Andrew, Why Are You Reviewing This And Not The Original Mortal Kombat Movie And It's Sequel, Mortal Kombat Annihilation? Because I Don't Need A Frying Pan To Hit Me Over The Head To Know For A Fact That Both Of Those Films Are Horrible...

Where This Film Knows How To Handle The Game It's Taking On, Of Course, Some People Will Disagree With Me On This But Intend To Prove Those Haters Wrong Today...

So, With That Said, Let's Dive Into Mortal Kombat 2021...

Expect Spoilers From Here On Out...

The Movie Starts At The Home Of Hanzo Hasashi In Japan In The Year 1617, Where Hanzo Goes To Get 2 Buckets Of Water For His Wife, But Before He Goes, He Tells Her That He Loves Her Very Much...

However As Hanzo Gets Water, His Family Is Visited By Hanzo's Nemisis, Bi-Han, Whose Group Known As The Lin Kuei (Who Controls The Power Of Ice) Is Out To Annihilate Every Member Of Hanzo's Group, The Shirai Ryu From Existence And With Hanzo Being The Last One...He Makes Himself A Good Target...

So, Yeah, Bi-Han Kills Hanzo's Wife And Eldest Son By Freezing Them To Death, Which Leads Hanzo To Create A Makeshift Weapon (Out Of A Blade His Wife Used For Gardening And Some Rope) So He Can Fight The Warriors Of The Lin Kuei Before Fighting Bi-Han Himself Only To Get Killed During The Fight...

But Before Hanzo Dies, He Hears The Cries Of His Baby Daughter But In Attempting To Go To The Baby He Dies...

But That Doesn't Stop A God Named Raiden From Showing Up And Taking The Baby Himself To Find The Kid A New Home, Which Not Only Leads To A Title Card And Brief Star Wars Like Intro Revealing That There Is A Tournament That Decides The Fate Of Earth And Earth Has Lost 9 Of Them And Should It Lose One More, Then Earth Will Be Invaded By A Realm Called Outworld...

However, An Ancient Prophecy Has Revealed That A New Group Of Champions Led By Hanzo's Ancestor Will Tip The Balance For Earth...

Which Leads Up To Now, Where Hanzo's 21st Century Relative Who Now Goes By Cole Young Is Boxing For Money For His Family...

Now, Very Briefly, Let's Talk About Cole Who Is A New Character For This Movie And Is Not In The Video Game...

This Has Fans Debating That The Main Focus Should Have Been A Character From The Game, Namely Johnny Cage Instead Of A New Character To Which I Unfortunately Disagree With As Going With A New Character Works Better In The Movie's Favor...

Think About It, If They Had Made A Character From The Game The Main Focus It Would Come With Expectations That The Fanbase Expects For Characters Of This Game Adding To The Other Expectations For The Other Characters That Are From The Game That Are In This Movie...

Where A New Character Not Only Gives Us A Fresh Set Of Eyes To Look At This World, But A Way To Put Us Not Only Into The Movie But Into This World...

Unfortunately, Cole Loses The Fight But It's Enough To Impress A Guy Named Jax (Played By Jimmy Olsen From Supergirl) Who A Tattoo On Cole Only For His Daughter To Reveal That It's Not A Tattoo But A Birthmark Which He's Had Since He Was Born...

Meanwhile In Outworld, The Ruler Of This Realm, Shang Tsung...

Yes, That Guy,..

Tells Bi-Han Who Has Now Become...

Sub-Zero...

That The Prophecy Is Upon Them And He Wants Him To Go To Earth To Eliminate The Champions, Which Leads Sub-Zero To Attack Cole And His Family While They're Getting Dinner At A Restaurant...

Luckily Though, They Are Saved By Jax Who Reveals He Has A Tattoo Like Cole Does And That He's Been Chosen To Fight But Before Jax Can Tell Him Anymore They're Confronted By Sub-Zero Who Attacks Their Car, But Before Jax Goes To Fight Sub-Zero He Tells Cole To Go To Gary, Indiana...

This An Action Movie, Not A Musical!

Anyway, He Tells Cole To Go There And Find Sonya Blade Who Will Have More Information About Everything...

So, With Cole Taking His Family To Safety, Jax Goes To Fight Sub-Zero Only For Sub-Zero To Freeze Jax's Arms And Rip Them The Hell Off...

Jax Falls To The Ground Which Leads Sub-Zero To Believe Jax Is Dead But We'll See Jax Later...

After Dropping His Family Off, Cole Goes To See Sonya Blade Who Not Only Reveals That People With Markings Like The Ones Cole And Jax Have Have Been Chosen To Fight For Earth In A Tournament Known As Mortal Kombat, But Also That She Has A Mercenary Named Kano Who Killed A Champion That Sonya Was After Only To Get The Marking Himself...

But Before Sonya Can Give More Information, They're Attacked By Reptile, A Minion Of Shang Tsung But He Defeated By Kano Who Breaks Free During The Fight...

Before He Leaves, Kano Mentions Raiden's Temple, (A Place Where Champions Have Gone To Train For The Tournament) So Sonya Makes A Deal With Kano To Take Them There For 3 Million Dollars (Despite Not Having It) And He Does...

Travelling To The Middle Of The Desert, We Get A Small Fight Between Kano And Sonya, Before They Run Into Liu Kang (Played By The Black Ranger From The Power Rangers Reboot) Who Takes Them To Raiden's Temple To See Raiden Himself Who's Not Exactly Pleased With What He Has To Work With...

But Beggars Can't Be Choosers As Outworld Comes To Them Forcing Liu Kang And His Cousin, Kung Lao To Deal With The Intruders But Raiden Interpheres As Shang Tsung, Sub-Zero And Another Minion, Mileena Arrive...

However Despite Ordering His Minions To Kill The Champions, Raiden Creates An Electric Force Field Preventing Them From Entering...

Yeah, Go Cry To Your Mama, Shang Tsung...

So, As Both Kano And Cole Begin Training For Their Arcana (Which Is Their Inner Power), Sonya Discovers That Jax Is Alive And That As Sub-Zero Froze His Arms He Also Cauterised Jax's Wounds And All It's Going To Take Now Is Time...

Which I Think Is Liu Kang's Way Of Saying "We Can Rebuild Him, We Have The Technology"...

And So, Jax Becomes The Six Million Dollar Jax...

Well, I Guess Six Million Dollars Doesn't Buy What It Used To Buy...

With Very Little Success Of Getting Their Arcana On Their First Day, Everyone Has Dinner Only For Kung Lao To Start Insulting Kano Which Leads to Him Getting His Arcana Of Shooting A Laser From His Eye...

But Unlike Kano, Cole Is Having A Hard Time Getting His Arcana And With Time Running Out He Needs To Get It....Fast....

This Leads Raiden To Send Cole Home Despite Telling Him The Truth About Hanzo And How He Was He Was Hoping That The Power Of His Bloodline Would Be Strong Enough For Cole To Get His Arcana...

Meanwhile In Outworld, Shang Tsung Prepares His Minions, Millena, Nitara, Kabal And General Reiko For An Attack On Raiden's Temple...

But How Will They Lower Raiden's Force Field?

Well, Unfortunately, Kabal Knows Kano And Goes Off To Convince Him To Join Shang Tsung's Team And Guess What? He Accepts.,,

So, Yeah, Kano Brings Down The Shield Allowing Shang Tsung And His Minions To Attack The Temple While Cole Is Attempting To Protect His Family From Freaking Goro!

And Holy Shit, Did They Give Goro An Update!

But As The Fights Happen We Get Lines From The Game Including "Finish Him!" And "Flawless Victory" Kung Lao Kills Nitara Only For Shang Tsung To Kill Kung Lao, Jax's Arms Finally Look Like They're Worth Six Million Dollars And Transform Into Badass Robotic Arms Intead Of Wimpy Ones

And Cole Gains His Arcana (Of Transforming Into Kinetic Armor And Weapon Creation) To Save His Family From Goro Which Leads To The Most Gruesome Death In This Movie...

But Despite Cole Returning To The Temple To Help, Raiden Gets The Team Out By Taking Them To The Void, Which Is A Space Between Earthrealm And OutWorld To Come Up With A Plan

And Their Plan Is Very Simple...

Jax Fights Reiko ( Reiko Gets His Head Smashed In By Jax), Sonya Fights Kano (Kano Has An Ironic Death And Sonya Gains His Mark, Becoming A Champion) And Liu And Cole Fight Both Mileena And Kabal (Kabal Dies By Liu's Fire Dragon Ability And Mileena Gets Blasted By Sonya When She Shows Up)

They Had Intended Taking Sub-Zero Together But When He Shows Cole A Bracelet That Belonged To Cole's Daughter, He's Like "I Have Your Family, Come Get Me Bitch!"

So, Cole Enters A Portal To Face Sub-Zero Alone, Well...Not Really...

Using A Blade That Belonged To Hanzo During The Fight, Cole Summons The Spirit Of Hanzo To Fight With Him...,

But He's Not Hanzo Anymore, Oh, No....He's...

Scorpion!

And He's Like...

So, Yeah, Scorpion Kills Sub-Zero By Burning The Bastard With Fire Breath Before Returning To Help And Cole Saves His Family....

But As Raiden And His Team Arrive, Shang Tsung Also Arrives Saying That Death Is Just Another Portal And Next Time, He Will Come With Armies Before Leaving

However, Though They Won This Battle, The Fight Is Not Over By Any Means As Raiden Assembles A New List Of Champions For The Team To Recruit...

Packing Up His Locker At The Wrestling Ring, Cole Tells His Agent That He's Going To Hollywood As We Look At A Poster That Tells Us Johnny Cage Will Be In The Sequel...

This Movie Was...Pretty Damn Epic!

How This Isn't One Of The Best Video Game Movie Adaptations Ever I Will Never Know, I Guess It Just Comes Down To People Are Idiots And Don't Know What The Hell They're Talking About...

"The Story Is Confusing" If The Story Is Confusing Then You Don't Belong Reviewing Movies Cause You Have No Idea What A Good Movie Is!, "The Movie Has Horrible Writing" Have You Even Seen The Original Mortal Kombat Movie? That And Annihilation Have Worse Writing Than This Movie! "We Should Have Had Johnny Cage Instead Of Cole" We're Getting Him In The Sequel, Give The Writers A Freaking Break And Stop Being Critical Pricks!

So, Yeah, It's Obvious That This Has Become My Favorite Video Game Movie And I Say Don't Listen To People Like Angry Joe Or Hack The Movies Who Don't Know What They're Talking About And Go See This Movie

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off

#Mortal Kombat #warner bros

4 notes · View notes

primroseprime2019 · 4 years ago

Text

Darkness Rising- Part Two

"Of all the Energon deposits we have located while you were away, Lord Megatron, this one, by far, is the most significant," Starscream boasted to Megatron.

"The drones have been mining without pause during your absence," Echo said, "and have massed quite the stockpile."

"You there! Fetch me a sample," Starscream said. "Starscream, now that I have returned, I shall issue the commands," Megatron said firmly.

"Of course Lord Megatron," Starscream said quickly, "then as your humble servants, shall we ready the space bridge to bring forth the Decepticon army you surely have gathered during your three years in space?"

"My army will come," Megatron said, "my time away has yielded a more... intriguing means of materializing them." He pulled out a bright purple shard, "the solidified form of the matter the Ancient Texts refer to as the Blood of Unicron."

"Unicron the Destroyer?" Echo said, surprised. "But it is said that his blood is the anti-spark," Starscream said.

"Plucked from Cosmic Shores. Gaze upon Dark energon," Megatron said.

"Legend tells that it holds the power to... revive the dead," Echo said with a frown. "We require a cadaver to be certain," Megatron said and he turned to Starscream and Echo, "are you willing to make the ultimate sacrifice?"

"Eheh, that won't be necessary, my liege," Starscream said quickly while Echo shook her helm. "If I may, Lord Megatron," Starscream said. He gestured to the body of Cliffjumper as Decepticon drones brought it over on an electronic stretcher.

"Consider it a welcome home present," Starscream said.

◊◊◊◊

"And since you know of our existence, I fear that as of last night, the Decepticons know of yours," Optimus said.

"Got it. We see any strange vehicles, call 9-1-1," Jack said, "can we go now?" "It's not that simple Jack," Paige said quietly.

"Are you insane?" Miko hissed at Jack, "I'm living a dream here in Botswana! And I will not allow you or anyone else to shatter it."

"It is best that you four remain under our watch," Optimus said, much to Miko's excitement and Jack's dismay, "until we can learn more of our enemies' intentions."

"Optimus, with all due respect, the human children are in as much danger here as anywhere," Ratchet said.

"Children?" Jack repeated, offended as Miko, Raf and Paige gave Ratchet offended looks.

"They have no protective shell," Ratchet went on, "if they go underfoot, they will go... squish." He stomped his pede forward to prove a point and the action made Jack and Raf flinch back. Paige chuckled softly.

"Then for the time being, Ratchet, we must watch where we step," Optimus said. Ratchet looked at Paige, "and what is so funny?"

"You wouldn't step on us," Paige said, pointing at the medic, "you're too grouchy to do so." "Excuse me!?" Ratchet exclaimed, making Miko and Raf laugh at the look on the medic's faceplates.

Their laughter was cut short by a loud beeping noise. "What's that?" Jack asked.

"Proximity sensor," Bumblebee said. "Proximity sensor," Raf said, "someone's up top."

Ratchet went to see who it was. "It's Agent Fowler," he said as he saw the helicopter on the roof. Paige looked to Optimus confused, "I thought we were the only humans who knew about you guys."

"Special Agent Fowler is our designated liaison to the outside world," Optimus said, "as he tends to visit when there are... issues. It may be best if you do not meet with him at this time."

Raf and Miko ran to a hiding spot with Jack and Paige following. The elevator opened as Agent Fowler stormed out of it, looking rather peeved. "7 wrecks, 34 fender-benders, a 3-hour traffic jam! And a particular note: numerous reports of a speeding motorcycle of unknown make and a custom black and yellow muscle car!"

Arcee and Bumblebee looked at each other. Paige peeked around the corner before she quickly pulled back, nearly bumping into Jack.

"So anything you'd like to get off your tin chest, Prime?" Agent Fowler demanded. "We have the situation under control, Agent Fowler." Optimus said calmly.

"They're back, aren't they?" Fowler asked. "If you are referring to the Decepticons, we doubt they ever left," Primrose said, "your planet is much too valuable."

"Then it's time to wake up the Pentagon," Fowler said. "Hear me, Agent Fowler," Optimus said sternly, "we are your best- possibly, your only- defense against the Decepticon threat."

"Says you," Fowler huffed. "Hey squishy!" Bulkhead snapped, "did anyone get splattered on that freeway? Team Prime knows when to use force." The Wrecker grabbed a tool and with that, he crushed it, "and how much to use."

"Bulkhead, I needed that!" Ratchet said angrily. "Enough," Optimus said firmly before he looked back at Agent Fowler, "military involvement will only result in catastrophe. Perhaps you can condone widespread human casualties, Agent Fowler. I, however, cannot."

"Then do us both a favor, Prime, and handle this under the radar or I will," Agent Fowler said as he walked back into the elevator and it closed behind him. "Pretty big bearings for a human," Bulkhead huffed.

"Agent Fowler is concerned for his world, Bulkhead," Firestorm said, "as he should be."

◊◊◊◊

"Let us see if the power born from darkness can ignite the spark," Megatron said before he slammed the dark energon shard into Cliffjumper's chestplates.

The red Autobot started to shake as his body started to glow bright purple. When he opened his optics, they weren't sky blue anymore. They were a light amethyst purple and the undead Autobot let out a strangled growl.

He struggled to get free of the metallic straps that were holding him down. The Vehicons nearby aimed their blasters at the undead Autobot when he broke free of his bonds and ran at one of the nearby troops.

He tackled one and started to beat it without mercy.

"Master! That's your plan? Bring Autobots back from the dead to attack us!?" Starscream gasped. "That is no longer an Autobot," Megatron said, "just a mindless beast. It's only instinct is to destroy anything in its path."

The undead Cliffjumper roared and charged at Megatron. Starscream ran to get out of the way as Echo stayed put.

Megatron unsheathed his sword and in mere seconds, he sliced the undead Autobot in half. The Autobot staggered forward before it fell into two pieces and into the mine below.

"There, Starscream, lies the indestructible seed for my army. The ultimate weapon," Megatron said. The upper half of Cliffjumper was clinging to the edge before Megatron kicked it away, sending it falling down onto a lower platform. "Once I learn to control it," he said.

Echo stared down at the platform below with fear and disdain while Starscream smirked.

◊◊◊◊

At the Autobot base, the monitors started to go off. "Blasted earth tech!" Ratchet snapped at the air, "Cliffjumper's life signal popped back online!"

"Who's Cliffjumper?" Miko asked. "How is that possible?" Firestorm asked, shocked.

"It isn't. Another bug; the system's full of them," Ratchet said. "If there's any chance that Cliff's alive," Arcee said, looking to Optimus hopefully.

"Ratchet, prepare sickbay," Optimus said, "we may need it." "Hey!" Miko called out, and the Prime looked back at her.

"What can we do?" She asked eagerly. "Remain with Ratchet," the Prime said.

"Aw," Miko groaned in disappointment, as did Ratchet. The ground bridge opened. "Autobots, roll out," Optimus said as he and the others transformed into their vehicle forms and drove through the bridge. "Be careful," Paige said to herself as she leaned on the railing.

"What just happened?" Jack asked, shocked. "I transported them to the designated coordinates via the ground bridge," Ratchet said.

"What's a ground bridge?" Raf asked, earning a heavy, irritated sigh from the medic.

"A scaled down version of space bridge technology," Ratchet said. "You're stuck here," Jack said, "on Earth."

"With the likes of you, yes," Ratchet said, "but I constructed the ground bridge to enable travel from here to anywhere on your planet."

"Whoa. Does it work for humans?" Raf asked. "Naturally," Ratchet said, rather proudly.

"You mean I could just shoot on over there and visit my parents in Tokyo?" Miko asked the medic. "Within moments," Ratchet said, "in fact, allow me to send you there immediately. All four of you."

"Watch it Ratchet," Miko said sassily. "Sorry we don't fit your standards to the point where we're not like you," Paige said as she looked away. Ratchet frowned, "I never said that."

"You don't need to say it. Your tone shows it," Paige said bitterly. Ignoring the pang of hurt in his spark, Ratchet sighed deeply and he turned back to the monitors.

◊◊◊◊

The ground bridge opened in the Decepticon mine. The Autobots walked out of it. "Energon mine," Bulkhead observed.

"Judging by its scale," Firestorm said, "the Decepticons have been tunneling here for some time." The Autobots hid behind some rocks. The drones continued to mine the energon, not knowing that the Autobots were there.

"Let's find Cliffjumper," Optimus said and the Autobots approached the Decepticon drones. As soon as they did, the drones saw them and started to fire. A drone came towards them with a drill but Bulkhead smashed it.

Arcee and Primrose shot at the drones.

◊◊◊◊

"What is this anyway?" Miko asked as she went to touch a piece of machinery. "Broken. Don't touch," Ratchet said. Miko reached to touch another piece until Ratchet said, "don't touch that either."

"Is there anything we can touch?" Jack asked. Ratchet looked at him before a sound came from the screen. Ratchet looked to see alerts coming up on the screen. "How come you guys are using human computers?" Raf asked.

"It certainly isn't by choice," Ratchet huffed, "it was handed down from previous tenants when we inherited this former missile silo. I make modifications as I see fit." He let out an irritated sigh when more alerts popped up on the screen.

"I think I can fix that," Raf said as he went to pick up his backpack. "Really?" Ratchet scoffed, "you know this is complex technology, don't you? I mean it isn't a child's toy."

"Now try," Raf said once he finished typing into the system. Ratchet looked at the screen as the alerts disappeared in a flash. He looked back at Raf, surprised.

◊◊◊◊

At the Decepticon mine, the Autobots had fought a few more drones before they all transformed into their vehicle forms and drove through the mine. "Maximum overdrive," Optimus advised. The other Autobots sped up at their leader's advice and once they got to their next destination, they transformed into their bipedal forms and hid behind some crates.

Bulkhead whistled in admiration, "quite the operation." Unfortunately, the drones heard him and started to fire at the Autobots.

"You just had to whistle!" Firestorm said to Bulkhead as he fired back at the drones.

◊◊◊◊

"Blood of Unicron, how might I fathom of the depths of your mystery? Become worthy of wielding your astonishing power?" Megatron said to himself as he stood in front of a glass tank that had the dark energon inside.

"Lord Megatron, the Autobots have been detected in the mines," Starscream said as he appeared on a small screen. "Optimus?" Megatron said.

"Indeed," the Seeker nodded. "I need more time to prepare an appropriate reception for my old friend. Ready the ship for departure," Megatron said.

"But the energon I've mined- the Autobots will seize it!" Starscream exclaimed. "Then blow the mines," Megatron snapped.

◊◊◊◊

The Autobots shot at the drones. Something caught Arcee's optic and she looked closer. She saw Cliff's body. "It's Cliff! I have a visual," she said.

"We'll cover you," Primrose said, "go!" Arcee vaulted herself over the boxes she had been using for cover and transformed, racing up a ramp and launching herself high into the ring supports of the lift. She grabbed a beam and landed the ring attached to it. She ran around the ring and launched herself off a different beam, grabbing a thinner ring and swinging herself on top of it. She jumped off that ring onto the lower lip of the platform Cliffjumper was on. She pulled herself over the edge of the platform to him.

Acree gasped at Cliff's half-bodied form leaking energon. She shielded herself from incoming blasts from two drones on a higher platform. The section of platform Cliffjumper was on started to fall. "Cliff!" She yelled. She jumped to his falling body and caught his servo. She pulled him partly up, struggling from the bad leverage, his weight, and the fact that the Cons were still shooting at her.

Optimus and Primrose fired on them and took them out. Arcee shielded her face from some falling rocks. She then looked down at Cliffjumper. "Let's get you home partner." She said but to her shock, when Cliff looked up at her, he started growling at her. Arcee recoiled and he struggled against her, ending up tearing her grip from his servo. She continued reaching for him as he fell down the shaft.

"No!" Primrose shouted. Optimus looked to Arcee who let out a breath of defeat. A laugh got their attention. It was Starscream.

"Prime!" He snapped, "I'd stick around but I'm squeamish." With that, the Seeker dropped an explosive charge at the bottom of the mine before he leapt off the platform, transformed into his aerial form and took off.

"The joint's gonna blow!" Bulkhead shouted. "Autobots, roll out!" Optimus ordered.

Arcee jumped down from the platform as she and the others transformed into their vehicle forms and sped down the mine just as the bomb went off and it exploded, igniting the energon around it and sending a fireball many hundreds of feet in the air over the mine shaft. The explosion was gaining on the Autobots fast.

"Ratchet, bridge us back! Use the arrival coordinates now!" Optimus ordered. The ground bridge opened in front of them. Each Autobot drove into the bridge and into the base. Optimus drove into the base just before the bridge closed, the Prim transforming into his bipedal form and he stopped himself from skidding into the others.

"Whoa," Jack, Miko, Raf and Paige gasped in astonishment. "Cutting it a bit close," Ratchet said, "how about Cliffjumper?"

The Autobots looked away. Miko ran over to the railing, "what was that explosion? Was there a fight? Can I come with next time!?"

"Miko!" Paige hissed. Arcee gave a low growl, "look." "H-hey," Jack said quickly, nervously as he placed his hand on Miko's shoulder, "Miko, let's go see what the Bots hide in their sock drawers."

"Seriously?" Miko asked, raising an eyebrow as she and the boy walked away from the railing.

"Arcee, what did you see?" Optimus asked. Arcee wrapped her arms around herself as she looked away.

"Not Cliff," she said, "at least... not anymore. He was mutated- butchered. S-something from those Con experiments during War." Her optics nearly rolled to the back of her helm and she fell back, leaning on a nearby crate for support.

"Are you okay?" Bumblebee asked, worriedly as he came over to her. "I'm fine, just... dizzy," Arcee said.

"Robots who get dizzy?" Miko said. "Robots with emotions," Raf said. "Robots... who can die," Paige said.

Arcee sat on the crate as Ratchet scanned her. The scan turned red before the medic saw something. "What is this?" He asked as he saw purple substance on Arcee's servo.

"Don't know," Arcee said wearily, "Cliff was covered in it. Leaking it." Ratchet lightly scraped the substance off of Arcee's servo, "go take a decontamination bath. Now."

Firestorm helped Arcee up and the two went over to the decontamination showers.

"Optimus, I hate to interrupt but... no bars," Jack said, holding his phone.

"A security precaution," Optimus said, "the silo walls isolate all radio waves."

"Well if I don't call my mom, like now, I'm pretty sure the cops are going to be out looking for me," Jack said. "Have you broken a law?" Optimus asked.

"It's curfew Optimus," Paige said with a small smile, "it's after 10:00 P.M. and my parents will be worried."

"I better get home too," Raf sighed, "or I'll be grounded for a year." "Earth customs," Optimus said, "I hadn't considered. But the issue of your safety remains." He looked to Bulkhead, "Bulkhead, accompany Miko home."

"Awesome! My host parents will freak!" Miko said excitedly. "And maintain covert surveillance in vehicle form," Optimus said.

"Curbside duty," Bulkhead chuckled, "got it." This earned a groan of disappointment from Miko.

"Bumblebee, you'll watch over Raf," Optimus said. Bumblebee looked to Raf who smiled at him.

Optimus turned to Ratchet, "Ratchet-" "Busy," the medic said, his back to the others. Arcee walked out of the decontamination shower.

"Arcee, you'll accompany Jack," Optimus said. Jack tensed up a little.

Arcee sighed, "still dizzy." Paige giggled, earning a smile from Arcee.

"You're fine, says your physician," Ratchet said. Arcee let out a heavy sigh. Optimus looked to Paige, "Paige, I will accompany you home."

Paige looked up at Optimus and gave a small nod. She fiddled with diamond-shaped necklace that had a red ruby inside of it. The Prime transformed into his vehicle form and she walked over to him. When she climbed into the passenger side of his vehicle form, she closed the door and he drove out of the base and into the streets of Jasper, Nevada.

◊◊◊◊

"Arcee, I'm really sorry for your loss," Jack started tentatively.

"What could you possibly know about loss?" Arcee asked coldly.

"What? You think you're the only one with problems?" Jack retorted, which caused Arcee to transform and to glare at Jack very hard.

"I'm not sure girl trouble counts," Arcee shot back dangerously.

"I'm pretty sure my girl troubles started the night I met you!" Jack scoffed before they saw another car roll up onto the driveway.

"'Cons!" Arcee gasped as she activated her blasters.

"No! Mum!" Jack corrected as he ran out to stall her for as long as he could. Arcee blinked before she transformed back into her vehicle form.

"Jack?" June Darby said as she climbed out of the car.

"Mum! Don't freak! I can explain!" Jack promised his mother.

"Can you?" June asked before approaching the motorcycle, "Jackson Darby, we talked about this." "I know. And-."

"You don't know!" June cut her son off, "I worry about you enough when you're not here. Now I have to worry about you driving a motorcycle?"

"I'm 16! I can't be driving a ten-speed forever!" Jack retorted. "How did you afford this?" June demanded.

"It's used," Jack said, "it's abused, really. Needs a ton of repairs, but the point is I may have been a kid when I bought this, but I'm not anymore. You always tell me to make responsible choices. Well I chose her. And I'll be responsible! I promise."

"Her?" June asked with a slight smile, "I didn't think you'd be bringing girls home just yet." "I'd like to think she brought me," Jack said with a sheepish smile.

"Well I'm glad you finally have a reason to wear your helmet every single time you ride," June said with a soft sigh, "you will take me for a spin every once in a while?"

"We'll see," Jack said as he and his mom went into the house, "she's kinda temperamental."

◊◊◊◊

"Optimus," Paige said as she walked over to the Peterbilt, "you up?"

"I am awake," the Prime said, "is something wrong?" "No," Paige said, "I just can't sleep." She climbed into the Prime's vehicle form and leaned back against the seat.

"My parents are sleep," she said. "I see," Optimus hummed. The silence returned for a few moments.

"I'm sorry about Cliffjumper," Paige said, gripping the hems of her sweater sleeves, "I know- I feel like he and Arcee were partners- they were more than that. And to have that taken away from her... she's hurting." "Paige," Optimus said softly and he was alerted by the soft cries and whimpers.

She was crying. Paige was crying. Guilt and worry filled Optimus' spark. "You're all going through this war... all this pain," Paige whimpered, "I'm sorry I can't do anything. I'm sorry I'm so useless... I'm sorry I'm a nobody-"

"Stop that," Optimus said firmly, "you are not useless. You are not nothing. You are more than that. You are something more. You are strong just like the other children. I know it."

Paige looked at Optimus' steering wheel and she felt the Prime's seatbelt tighten a little in the form of a hug. Paige smiled weakly and she slowly fell asleep to the Prime's warmth.

◊◊◊◊

At the Darby residence, Arcee was revving her engine loudly. Jack opened the door, "shh! Are you crazy? You'll wake my mom!"

"Grab your helmet. It's go time," Arcee said. Jack groaned, "it's Saturday."

"You can watch cartoons back at base with Bumblebee and Primrose," Arcee said.

"Cartoons? I'm sixteen," Jack said with a tired frown. "And Paige is older than you," Arcee said, "leave a note for your mom. She worries."

"You think I don't know that?" Jack asked as he went back inside.

◊◊◊◊

Megatron was still standing before the Dark Energon, studying it, when Starscream entered the room. "I don't think you need worry about further Autobot interference, Master. Not with Optimus gone." Starscream reported arrogantly.

"And what evidence do you possess of this fact?" Megatron challenged.

"I destroyed the mine. As you instructed." Starscream reminded Megatron, who turned and didn't look convinced.

"Optimus is not so easily destroyed." The Decepticon leader stated. "We have millennia worth of battles behind us to prove it." He turned back to studying the Dark Energon.

"Maybe you should take a break, My Lord." Starscream advised. "I worry that too much contact with the Dark Energon might allow its properties to... adversely affect you."

"Or perhaps, Starscream, I have not permitted myself contact enough!" Megatron said before he ripped a shard from the large cluster of Dark Energon and held it up.

"Wait! Lord Megatron, no! Not your spark chamber! You do not know what it will do!" Starscream protested as he realized what his master was planning to do with the shard.

Megatron took no heed of Starscream's warning and stabbed himself directly in the spark chamber. He hunched over in pain, then straitened as a type of seizure overtook him. He screamed as his energon was transformed into Dark Energon and his eyes turned purple.

◊◊◊◊

Ratchet was analyzing the components of the purple substance he had scraped off of Arcee when it began having an ill effect on the femme. It confounded him. Not in all his years as a medic had he seen anything like this. He couldn't even recognize what it was.

"Hmm...the base elements of this...goo are like nothing I've ever encountered." He said to himself as he went over the data his computers had managed to provide. "It must be extremely concentrated to have affected Arcee so rapidly. Unfortunately, complete results are slow-coming without the use of proper diagnostic tools. Thank you very much, Bulkhead." Ratchet rambled as he removed the slide from the hard-drive.

As he did, he unknowingly spilt some of the substance onto the diagnostic tool that Bulkhead broke when Agent Fowler was there. It seeped its way into the very wiring of the machinery and glowed a bright purple for a brief moment before moaning and groaning and standing on its newly acquired legs. But Ratchet didn't notice. With its only instinct to destroy everything in its path, the revived machinery approached the nearest object to destroy.

#fanfiction #transformers prime #my ocs #self insert #the girl among the gods

3 notes · View notes

capesandshapes · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Resort: Chapter 8 (Adrienette)

Summary: After an akuma attack goes wrong, Adrien finally learns Ladybug’s secret identity and finds himself falling even deeper in love with his friend. He thinks he’s finally gotten lucky when she declares to him that she’s currently in the business of falling love with anyone but her previous crush… until that crush turns out to be him. Now Adrien has to somehow convince the girl of his dreams to fall back in love with him, while keeping his own identity a secret from her. Well, if there was one thing his father taught him, it was how to multitask. Chapter Summary:

Alya is Akumatized, Chat Noir and Marinette have to team up, and turtles, unfortunately, do not have fingers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few things went through Adrien’s mind at that moment, the first being that, very concerningly, there was a sword planted in the ground beside him. The second was that he’d never seen a technologically advanced knight before, especially one with a phone secured to the inner handle of their shield. Still, he had to hand it to Alya; her akumatizations were always creative. Of course, the third was that as nice as it was having Marinette sitting on top of him, she was not transformed and therefore in a great deal of trouble. Not that the girl acknowledged it, however.

“Alya, I get it. You’re upset, you feel like I don’t appreciate your efforts, and I know that you want me to be happy,” Marinette began, obviously not understanding the critical component of their situation. Adrien’s eyes widened as the sword beside him turned to pixels, a far off siren screaming in his head. “But I think that part of me being happy is that I have to start making my own mistakes and facing facts; I didn’t do that today when I asked you to sit in the wings and watch me go out with Luka. I roped you in, and then I didn’t even consider your opinion on things.” The Akuma was not calming down, oh god, the Akuma was not calming down, Marinette was just making it twice as sure of its mission. “I know that you think I should be with Adrien, and I know that last night I probably made a huge mistake with him. But you forcing us into these situations, forcing us together, that’s not going to fix things--”

Crap. As soon as he looked up, he saw it, Alya drawing the string back on a bow-- He did not want to figure out what those arrows did. In a heartbeat, he rolled over on top of her, grimacing. The girl’s eyes widened beneath him, her body stiffening as she realized that her talk wasn’t working.

Still, with tears growing in the corner of her eyes, she would not relent, “Chat, please, I need to talk to Alya.”

Evidently, this plan of action was far worse than the one before. “Get off of her,” Alya roared, drawing back her bow, “you’re not a part of this happily ever after! She’s meant to be with Adrien, she needs to be with Adrien! It’s the only way she’ll be happy!”

Adrien bolted up to his knees, narrowly missing the arrow as it went soaring past his head. He had no idea what it did, and he really didn’t want to find out either. “Are you sure the princess can’t have a cat instead?” He half-joked, grimacing as the girl readied another arrow. “Right, maybe that’s a little too nontraditional for you.” He was slowly becoming more sure that this would have been a great time to be Adrien instead.

“Chat,” Marinette hissed, shoving him off him as another arrow went flying by. His eyes widened as he realized that the area it hit turned to lush green, confirming his fears that Alya was planning to slowly hack the world into her fairytale plan. However, he had barely the time to process this victory before Marinette grabbed his arm, yanking him upwards. “Not exactly the time to sit and contemplate, Kitty.”

“You know, now would be a good time for my lady to show up,” he countered, eyeing at the knight who was more concerned with scrolling through her phone for something at the moment, the bow and arrows having vanished. He did not have a great feeling about things.

“I’m sure that when she can find an opening, she’ll show up,” Marinette retorted, running to the side as Alya selected her weapon, a large lance, and began to charge. “Until then, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, I just so happen to have a knight in shining armor trying to save me from my mundane life.”

“My name is Chevaliere!” Alya screamed, narrowly missing Marinette to collide with a tree, the tip of her lance breaking as she did so. Quickly, the Akuma whipped out her shield, cycling through the list once more.

“A distraction would be nice,” Adrien called.

“I’m thinking!” Marinette growled. “This would be a great time for anyone else to show up!”

“And I’m sure that if the miraculous weren’t being kept in a box, Princess ,” he winced as Alya went whirring by him, thankfully hitting another tree, “we’d have some help.”

“Well, I’m sorry that Ladybug didn’t think to pack her whole room!” Marinette proclaimed, her hands on her hips in a warning position as Alya struggled to get her lance disengaged from the tree. “Might I remind you, Chat, that I was on a date!”

“Oh, trust me,” Adrien said with a grimace, “I know .”

“Okay, plan c,” She said, not bothering to elaborate as to what plan a or b was. Likely they were far more preferable things, such as showing up already transformed as Ladybug or getting away and becoming ladybug. Since the Akuma wouldn’t let her leave her eyesight, however. Both Marinette and Adrien shot a glance at the Akuma, noting how she was only momentarily distracted by getting her lance out of the tree. Thankfully, she was too distracted to change weapons.

Still, Adrien didn’t fully understand.

He could see her fight back a groan, the girl gesturing to her earrings with a motion that indicated she needed his help. But how exactly? She couldn’t just pop them off, Akuma distracted or not; eventually the girl was going to look at them.

Oh.

There are things that you learn while fighting in a superhero team for years on end. Hopefully, over time one of those things would be how to read your partner’s body language. The only problem was, he could only just barely hope to read it correctly. Marinette was, in many ways, a puzzle that Adrien could only just barely hope to solve. It took him years to even find out what he stuttering meant--

The Akuma withdrew her weapon, the splintering of wood hitting the air. Efficiently, she pulled out her phone once more, cycling through options as she began to walk meaningly towards them, a grin painted upon her features. Internally, they began to count, all they had to do was wait for her to move first.

She didn’t disappoint.

Another round of arrows, the perfect excuse to tackle Marinette. Adrien shoved her down to the ground and out of the way, very much looking as if it was an unplanned action. His hands flew to her earrings as the Akuma shrieked, snatching one off of her head with a motion that appeared to cradle her head.

They rolled again, Marinette giving a performative yelp as she ended up on top of him, the back of her other earring pressing into his palm. He couldn’t help but grin as the next arrow flew, jerking Marinette’s head out of the way and grabbing the last piece of the puzzle while the Akuma screamed, cycling weapons once more to account for her closer distance, her head tucked down to look at her phone.

“I could make a joke, but,” he caught Marinette’s warning look as they scattered to their feet, desperately dashing for the nearest tree. “It’d probably bug you.”

She groaned.

The two of them disappeared behind it, a green light shining moments later.

When Cheavlierre looked up, the playing field was a bit different. No longer was there Chat Noir, but rather Marinette all alone. She smiled innocently, her back against a tree. Had she given up?

“You’re right,” Marinette began as the Akuma cautiously approached, on high alert for anything strange to happen. Secretly, Alya felt a bit of relief, finally Marinette was making things easy. “It’s Adrien, it was always Adrien. I was stupid to think otherwise.”

Victory.

“I love Adrien,” Marinette declared with a tranquil smile, her arms outstretched, “and he loves me. So pick me up and take me to him, my dear knight. I’m ready for my happily ever after to begin.”

That’s the thing about Akumas, isn’t it? Even when Hawkmoth is screaming in their ears to do otherwise, they want to fulfill their personal goal more than anything. Even if that means stepping forward into an obvious trap, reaching out to their friend, and getting dangerously close to a tree when they don’t know what’s on the other side. Akumas are ruled by emotion, not logic.

The yoyo zipped around the tree, smashing Alya’s body into Marinette’s. Panicked, the Akuma struggled, hand wrapped desperately around her phone as Marinette dug at her fingers, the two girls wrapped so tightly that Alya’s cheek pressed against the other girl’s lips.

Finally, the phone left Alya’s grip, thrown on the ground with the slightest flick of the wrist as the girl screamed in fury. A large red foot stomped downward, shattering the screen and releasing a white butterfly.

*****

“Ugh,” Alya complained yet again, laying her head down in Marinette’s lap as she pouted, her face turning to Nino, “I can’t believe I missed getting footage of Mister Bug yet again. You just had to get turned into a Disney-Esq turtle, didn’t you, Nino?”

“You’re the one who turned me!”

“And you couldn’t even attempt to hold a phone?”

“Turtles don’t have fingers, dude!”

Their argument continued, Alya still lamenting over her lack of footage despite the hours that had passed. Luka had already left, staying long enough to see that Marinette was okay and pose the question of where she went. He wasn’t angry when she couldn’t answer, but, she could see the disappointment on his face. Still, he was somehow the furthest from the front of her mind.

We should talk, declared Adrien’s text message, just another drop in the pool of Marinette’s concerns.

As her hands worked through the waves atop Alya’s head, her mind flew back to another place and time.

Her eyes shut, her body pressed against Chat Noir as the transformation dropped, his clothes underneath her hands for mere seconds as he whispered her transformation sequence. Sewing had ruined her; she could recognize fabrics by feel. Every composition, every weave, and every weight had a different texture. Finely woven silk, cotton, and not a hint of polyester anywhere. Just the slightest hint of sugarcane, an element newly introduced to the Gabriel label’s denim due to the unique fade it created.

She was one step closer to Chat Noir’s identity, and though she had told him that she didn’t wish to know, she couldn’t deny the heavy thumping in her chest.

#Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Miraculous ladybug #adrienette #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #my fanfic #my fanfics #the last resort #original content

8 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected Resistance. (Part Three)

The Terminator (1984) x OC

Warnings: gun usage, violence, death

Context: The T-750 and the T-800 have a brief encounter.

A/N: I apologise for taking so long to update this! I will try to write more of it in a shorter span of time so that it's not so stilted, so please bear with me 😅💛

Edited and Co-written by: @jawline-of-steel

Masterlist

Sarah winces as she watches the T-750 break yet another pair of handcuffs, the cyborg easily snapping each metal loop off from around her wrists, dropping them to the floor and returning her hands to her sides, standing rigidly once more. The policemen surrounding her frown and murmur amongst themselves, one of them going to lock her up once more, forcefully lifting her hands into position behind her, cuffing them together tightly. Emotionlessly, the terminator simply breaks free again, staring at the men around her as they go to draw their weapons, her eyes momentarily fixing on the detective, who has called out to them to stand down.

From across the room, the T-750 makes eye contact with Sarah, keeping a constant visual on her target so that she doesn't miss anything, as is her directive. Her HUD registers a minor threat from the officers around her, but she follows the orders given previously by Sarah, which stated that attack is not a viable option. Flashes of data appear on the display, her inner CPU processing this at lightning speed, informing her system of everything that is occurring, providing accurate information on all necessary happenings in the room. With no real source of information regarding Kyle Reese, the T-750 is left to make the conclusion of his temporary safety, or capture at the hands of the humans in the police station. None of them, however, are willing to reveal his whereabouts or his current status. Considering this, the logical process of data that follows this acknowledgment is then as to the whereabouts of the pursuer coming after her primary objectives. Once again, white lines of text and encrypted data flood the HUD, the processors deciphering it and creating a realistic outline of the T-800's possible movements. A new directive is formed: locate and subdue the target.

Returning to the present, the T-750 registers that her target has moved away into another room, leaving no visual for the Terminator to track. Keeping a blank expression, the cyborg begins moving forwards, aiming for the door at the far end of the room, which has the highest possibility of being the chosen exit route for Sarah. Almost instantly, the cops around her jump into action, pulling their weapons and levelling them at her, one of them demanding that she stop, though the words go unregistered as orders in the T-750's CPU, the lack of obedience to this man meaning that she simply pushes him out of the way.

Just as she does this, a deafening crash echoes up the hallways, the sounds of splintering wood and tumbling bricks, as well as smashing glass and squealing metal all mixing into one crescendo of noise. The T-750's head snaps round, visual processors fixed on the origin of the disruption, the registered threat-level on her HUD spiking when gunshots begin to tear through the shocked silence that has filled the room. A new course of action is swiftly planned on her display, changing her route of travel so that she is now headed directly towards the point of conflict, where screams and cries of pain are now very audible.

Stepping out into the hall, her head rotates from side to side to determine the most efficient path. Her body turns in accordance and she begins striding down the corridor to her left, easily catching up to a police officer who is running in the same direction, an automatic assault rifle clutched in his hands. Firmly, she takes it from him, ignoring the shout of protest as she continues on, cocking the weapon with practiced efficiency, taking off the safety and placing a finger over the trigger. Returning all priority to the corridor ahead of her, the T-750 moves towards the ever-increasing sound of gunshots and screams, barely registering the sudden lack of clear light as the overhead bulbs are compromised, a new line of code flashing across her HUD:

_COMBAT_MODE_ENGAGED_:_AWAITING_TARGET_IDENTIFICATION_

As this function is activated, all secondary objectives are fazed out of her immediate recall system, only primary directives registering as important and referrable. Statistics for the rifle in her hands appear to the left of her vision, probability for success showing on the right, though this is mostly neutral at present, due to the largely unknown identity of the current threat. Turning a corner, however, she soon corrects this.

Bodies are strewn through this new hallway, blood pooling around them all as they lay there, some still alive, barely, breaths ragged and pained, eyes wide and terrified. A sparking circuit box is set into the wall a little way away, the door torn off and the wires emitting sharp cracks of electricity every few seconds, the systems evidently having short-circuited due to an overload of energy. The T-750 observes this and moves on, stepping over whimpering men as they clutch at her boots, hoping either to stop her walking into certain death, or to get help from her, neither of which she has any inclination of abiding to.

The gun clicks in her hands as she lifts it a little, prepared to shoot at the unknown threat as she rounds another corner, her visual sensors honing in on one particular person standing at the end of the corridor.

_TARGET_ACQUIRED_

The words are quick to register before she has depressed her finger on the trigger, bullets ripping from the muzzle of the deadly weapon. They tear into the back of her target, holes appearing in the tight leather of the coat. The wearer spins on his heel to address the source of this new attack, guns raised in an offensive manner. As his processors register the T-750, however, the T-800 pauses momentarily, his HUD having performed a automatic scan for hidden threat, her cybernetic nature is revealed to him instantly. In this brief moment, the other cyborg fires off another round of bullets, the damage registering on his display as minor, though the attack does catch his CPU off guard, due to the unexpected attack from a seemingly allied opponent.

Lifting his weapons, he shoots back at her, aiming to disable the other cyborg so that he may decipher what has influenced the programming of her CPU, every shot levelled at her abdomen, where there are no vital energy cells, so as not to induce permanent damage. As is usual with the terminators, she does not flinch or show any recognition of pain, maintaining a continuous onslaught of bullets, creating some more serious damage to his left shoulder, though the cybernetic joints of the limb are left intact due to their ability to deflect the majority of these aged bullets. Humans in the future were quick to realise that regular bullets have no impact on the killing machines, as the ammunition just crushes itself against the hyper-alloy endoskeletons.

The T-800 begins walking down the corridor towards the inferior model, shielded eyes fixed on her as he continues to shoot, only tossing aside the weapons when they run out of ammo. At this point, her own rifle seems to deplete it's rounds, the gun now in the process of being reloaded until the cyborg realises that her opponent is too close for firearm usage in any case. Throwing the gun down, she moves to meet the T-800 half way, expression as blank as his. Internally, the T-800 tracks the distance between them; six metres, five metres, four metres…

At three and half metres, he notices her remove a glove, the movement slow and calculated, the revealed hand turning to conceal itself slightly, closing into a fist so that he cannot determine anything from its current state.

At two point seven-five metres, he has formulated his own course of action.

The two lunge at each other, the T-800 grasping the smaller model's arms and throwing her to the side as his sunglasses go flying from his face to reveal missing skin and flesh around his eye, the sphere of metal now fully visible. Her body smashes into the wall, a large dent appearing in it as she slides to the floor, the T-750 attempting to get back up again, only to be picked up by her enemy and slung into the opposing wall again, the sound unbearably loud as support beams and bricks crack and falter under the immense weight. Scrambling to regain control of the situation, the female cyborg rolls onto her back and kicks out at the approaching killer, only to find her leg caught in a vice-like grip. Effortlessly, the T-800 uses this hold on her to swing her round into the wall once more, before bending down to pick her up by the throat, slamming her up against the very surface he just threw her into.

"Your model is registered under Skynet files as a decommissioned series. You have no place here." The T-800 states emotionlessly, face remaining unchanged.

"Your files are correct, I am a decommissioned series, but my mission parameters state that I must be in this time period, and so your secondary statement is incorrect." She responds, tonelessly, one hand coming up to grasp at the arm holding her captive.

"What is your mission? There is no record of any second Skynet model required for this objective."

"I am not a Skynet operative. I am a Resistance soldier."

The T-800's expression doesn't change, but his HUD begins running through every possible reason for this new response.

"That is not possible. You are Skynet technology." He finally states, tightening his grip around her throat.

"You are incorrect. It is entirely possible. I was developed and recreated by Skynet, but was captured and reprogrammed by the Resistance. I am no longer required to obey Skynet orders." As she says this, a sudden commotion interrupts them.

Both heads snap round, visual processors fixing on Kyle and Sarah as they stumble round the corner, only to come to an abrupt halt when they see the two cyborgs. Instantly, the T-800's targeting sensors flash in recognition, prompting a need to move on his located target, his grip tightening considerably around the T-750's throat, feeling her no longer useful to him.

"Leave the building. Now!" The inferior model suddenly calls out to them, her own mission objectives kicking in, "Get out of the city as quickly as possible! I will find you!"

The two humans nod, eyes wide as they race off back down the corridor, the T-800 going to follow, only for his head to be grabbed by the T-750, one of her hands on either side of his face. HUD flashing, he is forced to turn to her, his display registering a sudden pressure at the base of his right ear, minor damage appearing as she digs a finger into the vulnerable spot. His CPU finally works out what is happening and engages his defence mode, his grip constricting around her throat more.

The exposed metal finger of the T-750 pierces the soft skin, entering the port just below the endoskeleton's upper jaw joint. A transmission of electricity crosses between them, the identical charge of this energy neutralizing the superior model's own impulses, causing a system-wide temporary shutdown.

The T-800's eye widen minutely.

#terminator imagine #terminator 1984 #terminator #arnold schwarzenegger #linda hamilton #michael biehn #t-800

11 notes · View notes

scoobydoominuscoobydoo · 4 years ago

Note

An older ask had asked you how you would rewrite return to zombie island. How would you rewrite scoob?

Oh I’ve already put some thought into this while I was actually watching the movie simply because I was thirty minutes in and didn’t see it getting better.

The first change I would make is that I would get rid of the whole beginning scenes with them as kids. We didn’t need it and it literally added nothing to the story. You can convince your audience that the characters are close without needing to completely illustrate why.

I would definitely open the film up with them probably in mid-chase at the climax of a mystery because that’s just how you need to open up a Scooby movie. Right from the beginning this is where I would introduce the character conflict. Maybe after they’ve caught the guy and the police are commending them they wouldn’t really have anything to say to Shag and Scoob (who are probably disheveled and starving from running for their lives once again). Shaggy and Scooby have never felt bad about being cowards so I doubt this would really hurt them that much (maybe annoy them at the most). But it identifies where the story is going to focus.

We’d then move into some transitional scenes where you can watch how the gang’s dynamic works and this is where you sell their friendship. This ain’t just a Scooby and Shaggy movie, this is a whole gang movie (the central conflict just stems from Shaggy feeling under appreciated). So their relationships are an important part of getting the audience to care what happens. I would say you subtly show how Shaggy might break up little arguments or remind them to eat. Nothing in your face, more or less it would be weaved in with the gang’s standard banter.

Then we’d get to the gang talking about turning MI into a legitimate business by finding investors and stuff. I think this would be a good opportunity for a montage scene where we get to see a lot of other Scooby/HB characters without it taking too much out of the story (this is where I would show the Blue Falcon and Dyno Mutt). All of them seem to reject the proposition though. I didn’t have major issues with Simon Cowell because random celebrity cameos have always been a Scooby thing but I mean.... Why Simon Cowell of all people? I feel like there are way more suitable celebs to choose from. I feel like it would be funny if they brought in one of the actors from the 2002 live action film (playing themselves) and everyone is just like: “Who the heck is this?” And then Shaggy (who always knows who everyone is) just goes: “Um??? You uncultured swine??? That is obviously Linda Cardellini!” And then she’s the one who is finally willing to invest but says she’ll only do it if Shag is out (Scooby can stay because animal mascots are in and it doesn’t get anymore in than a talking Great Dane).

And the gang gets all offended at this and Linda (it doesn’t have to be Linda but for all intents and purposes I’m just saying it is) will just be like, “Fine, I’ll give you my money if you can tell me what he does for you. For your team.”

And they’ll all stay silent, trying to think of something and that’s when Shaggy finally takes it personally. It’s one thing to be judged by people he hardly knows. But for his best friends to be given like the easiest ultimatum and they can’t even deliver on it? He wonders if he’s being taken for granted. He decides he is and explodes. Shaggy never explodes so it freaks the gang out.

I think he’d call them out for not considering his constant submission into being the bait as a contribution - despite the fact that he always states that he’ll never do it again. But of course they wouldn’t count that because they’re always too focused in on the details to miss the big picture in front of them. Because, ultimately, that is what Shag adds to the team. Daphne, Fred, and Velma tend to get so wrapped up in the small factors that they sometimes miss the obvious. And that’s when Shaggy will point out the big thing that they’re missing. Shag has always been big picture over nuts and bolts so of course he’s the one to bring up the primary detail missed. This has been an element in almost every single show so I feel like it’s funny that it’s never been spelled out.

Velma is a little hot-head who doesn’t love being demoralized by anyone so she might say something uncalled for and that’s when Shaggy walks out and Scoob follows suit. That’s a pretty major conflict to take up the runtime so there you go.

Shag and Scoob being pissed at the gang makes a little more sense now and can be further elaborated and expand into Shag’s self-confidence issues. It’s at this point that the two of them can get kidnapped by an unrevealed villain because why the heck would I take the mystery out of it?

It wouldn’t be by a group of semi-sentient robots because this the 70′s or 80′s and technology wouldn’t be that advanced. Instead, I’d shoot for classic, masked henchmen (maybe disguised as horrifying Greek gods or something) who swipe Shag and Scoob from the bowling alley without even giving them a chance at a comedic chase scene because the audience is supposed to feel unnerved.

We’d cut back to the gang, 1/3 of them a little steamed and the majority feeling bad for selling their best friend short. It’s revealed that they didn’t take the investment offer because there’s no way they would further exclude Shaggy from anything. They decide that they should let everyone cool down before they go and talk things out and while that’s happening Daphne is trying put together a list of all the things Shag and Scoob add to the team. She gets even more upset with herself because this is their best friend and this shouldn’t be that hard.

In the background, Fred and Velma start arguing and it would act as a kind of callback to the beginning where we see Shag break up their bickering. But since he’s not here the fight begins to escalate and it’s only when they start yelling that Daphne comes between them. Then her face lights up and she gingerly adds that to the list.

As the movies cuts back and forth between Shag and Scoob’s perspective and the gang’s perspective the list gets longer.

Speaking of, Shag and Scoob are being kept prisoner at the abandoned carnival because that’s always an interesting set-piece that just so happened to be totally pointless in the actual movie. At some point the two of them are split up and this is when it’s hinted that the kidnappers where originally aiming for just Scooby but Shag was also there so they just rolled with it. But because Shaggy isn’t important to them, nobody is really guarding him anymore (they were originally guarding him because Scooby was with him).

Scooby being taken is the motivation he needs to try and escape and save his dog (in his head he’s pretty sure these whackos are gonna freaking sacrifice his dog to the powerful god of all things creepy). His escape attempts would be interspersed between scenes of the gang looking for him, and Scooby being intimidated by the masked big bad (who is of course explaining the plan in great detail). The gang’s hunt for their guys would be a lot more difficult since they can’t just Life 360 up where he is. It would rely more on visual clues, eyewitness testimonies and choppy security footage, which is overall more engaging and gives the gang an actual thing to do.

While Shaggy is formulating an escape he’s able to pick up bits and pieces of what the crazy people want to do with Scooby and this acts as him getting closer to finishing a puzzle. But he doesn’t analyze the puzzle pieces he gets and tries to guess what the puzzle will look like, that’s not his area or his goal at the moment.

In a big triumphant moment, Shaggy escaping and the gang figuring out where he is happen at the same time. This gets the spirits high before things go wrong again.

And when I say wrong - I mean the gang get capture by the villain. Shaggy isn’t aware of this as he’s sneaking around the carnival grounds trying to figure out where someone would keep the actually important prisoner. I feel like a comically large circus tent would be a cool location for the climax of a movie Scooby’s probably in there. But when Shag gets there he’s quick to hide (like under the seats or something) and this is how he’s able to finally see the whole puzzle put together.

The gang escapes rather quickly because say what you will about Danger Prone Daphne but she’s just as good at getting out of tough situations as she is at getting into them. And so begins the epic journey to find their boys (they escape and Velma just instantly goes, “It’s obviously the huge circus tent.”). And at this point it’s like a One Piece arc and all you want is the whole gang to be reunited again. But first we need a fun scene of the VFD trio trying to evade the henchmen to like a Smash Mouth song or something because remember this is Scooby-Doo.

Shaggy realizes he has to do something fast otherwise his dog is going to be used to open the Underworld. He runs out of the shadows without any real plan with just the goal of taking down the bad guy. But he doesn’t get there in time and the whole tent like erupts into green and blue flames as Cerberus stomps out of the gates and Shaggy is just frozen in place. The masked guy seems a tad surprised to run into Cerberus so fast but is quick to gain control of the beast. He orders the monster to start wreaking havoc on a nearby town something, he doesn’t care so long as he can enter the Underworld without distraction.

But before he can do that, he gets jumped by Shaggy who’s really only trying to keep him pinned down while he comes up with a step two. But Mr. Mask has some fight in him so it becomes this epic struggle between Shaggy, Scooby, and the bad guy while the place is still on fire and we have an epic orchestral score playing in the background.

Right when it seems like the villain has the upper hand, Daphne comes in and like roundhouse kicks him in the head, and he’s out cold. And before Shag and Scoob can react they’re dogpiled by the other three and it’s very heartwarming.

Fred eagerly ties the perp up and then we get our unmasking and it’s Scrappy-Doo!!! Just kidding that’d be stupid. I’m really not sure who would be the best surprise villain but if anyone has a good idea for one please let me know!

When the bad guy comes to, Velma starts shaking him to tell them how to get Cerberus back into the Underworld and how to close the gate. He reveals that all you need to do is whistle and he’ll go home (Cerberus is Hades’ domesticated puppy so obvi that would work). Maybe we get a gag where someone tries to whistle but it’s too hot in the tent for it to work and they’re like: “Does anyone have like some water?” And then Shaggy just rolls his eyes and whistles and boom, big angry puppy comes home.

Daphne smiles and says, “I’m gonna have to add that to the list.” And Shag is like, “Like, the list of what?” And she explains that the gang has been putting together a list of all the things he brings to the team and it makes him happy that they’re putting in the effort.

We cut back to Velma torturing the info out of our mask on how to close the gates and he just evilly laughs and only a dog or dog’s best friend can close the gate. But, unfortunately, the gate will take them back down to the Underworld. The gang just sits in shock because there is no better option there.

But without missing a beat, Scooby decides he’s gonna do it and runs for the lock. He’s about to put his paw on the thingy when Shaggy beats him to it and nobody even gets a second to process before he’s sucked in and the gate vanishes.

The whole gang run to the spot where the gate used to be and Daphne falls to her knees crying, Scooby is digging at the ground trying to get to the gate and Fred has to get him to stop.

“I never even got to give him the list...” And Daph pulls it out and just drops it on the ground. Velma is on the verge of tears as she adds, “I still owe him an apology. I owe him a lot of apologies...” And as Fred is comforting Scooby he says, “We all do...” The scene ends with the gang all hugging Scooby and the list bursts into flames and disappears.

Then we cut to Shag in the Underworld and he’s just leaning against the gate and crying because what else is he gonna do? “At least I was finally useful to them...” He thinks and slowly begins to walk around and is surprised to see that the Underworld is prettier than he expected.

“Thank my wife. She’s always looking for ways to brighten this place up so I don’t feel so miserable when she’s gone. “

Shag screams bloody murder and jumps like a ten feet before turning around and seeing a dude in a chiton. Surprise surprise, it’s Hades (Who can also be a celebrity cameo whatever). We get some nice banter before Hades holds up something and asks, “Is this yours?”

Shaggy looks down and sees that it’s a piece of paper, he shakes his head.

“Really? Because it mentions you an awful lot.”

Evidently it got snagged on the way down and ended up in Hades’ lap - he’s certain he wouldn’t have even noticed that Shaggy was there if it weren’t for that. And then Shag’s face lights up and he realizes it must be the list, as he reads it we cut to all of the times Daphne thought to write these down on their trip. Finally he believes that he’s useful to the team, that he is a valuable part of the gang.

Hades looks at him and just says, “How do they survive without you?”

And Shag just shrugs and goes, “Believe me, like, I have no idea.”

Hades smiles and replies, “Then you best not keep them waiting.” Before snapping his fingers and poofing Shaggy back home.

When he gets there, the gang are slowly making their way out of the tent so they don’t see him. So Shag takes the opportunity to say, “I read y’all’s list.” And everyone instantly makes a 180 turn with their eyes super wide and he continues, “You know I think you missed a few but it’s the thought that counts.” And then we get dogpile number two of the movie.

The final scene is the gang opening up Mystery Inc. and them asking Shag where the entertainment is and he’s just like, “I asked our surprise investors to put something together for us...” And then we get the Hex Girls performance we deserve and I can totally buy them investing in Mystery Inc. because they freaking love Shaggy and Scooby so.

We get an ending shot of the gang going off to solve their first monetized mystery (we could have like a soft instrumental version of the first theme song playing) and then we fade to the end credits where we get the What’s New Scooby-Doo theme.

#ask minus scooby #mod ninja #scoob!#if i were to go full shaphne I would have added a kiss when the reunite at the end #but for the sake of everything I'm keeping it plantonic #but really a kiss would be great #also this film would be in 2D and that's non-negotiable #there are some details that could be worked out but it's not like this is going to make the actual scoob any better so #you either like my rewrite or you don't

40 notes · View notes

dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

Text

Ship Repairs

This actually happened... mid-October, but somehow I never transferred this chat log, so HERE IT IS NOW. Alastor helps Sir Pentious repair his airship; they take a break in the middle for a picnic lunch and chatter about things like magic and personal boundaries and conquering Hell, you know, normal friend things.

Sir Pentious

Work on the airship continued, now with the benefit of having a giant tentacle monster loading crates into the creation. It was almost complete, with decor really being the finishing touches needed. Pentious would have time to work on mechanisms and making sure everything *there* was in tip top shape... And with Alastor here, it seemed things were taking no time at all.

Other than the fact when Pentious would demand various tools, he wouldn't call them by their actual names, but rather whatever he'd come up with, which likely made the entire cooperative experience much more infuriating.

But now it was a break for lunch! Tea, sandwiches and cuts of meat. Nothing overly sweet this time. There's some brandy on hand if necessary.

Alastor

On the bright side, Alastor was learning an entirely new vocabulary of made-up tool names. Learn something new every day, right?

"Now, I'm no engineer—but it looks to me like you're gonna be done here in just another few days, is that right?" In lieu of any sort of proper etiquette, he'd started spearing cuts of meat with one claw to eat.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious sips at his tea, watching Alastor with one opened eye. And at least fifteen others.

"YESs, THAT IS THE PLAN. SHOULD I BE ABLE TO KEEP TO SCHEDULE, BUT YOU KNOW. THINGSs COULD CHANGE AT A MOMENT'Ss NOTICE."

Alastor

"Of course! All schedules are tentative down here." He says so flippantly enough; but there's real nervousness buried beneath it. This ship was smashed twice in short sequence; there are, he has no doubt, overlords and other heavy hitters who must smell blood in the water.

He pushes his concerns down for the moment; he doesn't plan on leaving without addressing them. "Even so. Good to see this thing in almost working order again."

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious has definitely *thought* about such things, but also.... He's been pleasantly distracted by Valera that he hasn't worked himself to second death trying to fix the airship.

"YES, WELL, THANKS ARE IN ORDER. IT HELPS TO HAVE MORE HANDS ON DECK! OR TENTACLES, AS IT WERE, HAHA."

Good to have them NOT ripping his ship apart, again.

Alastor

"Any time!" He half bows in acknowledgment of the thanks. "It's about time said tentacles did something *useful* around here, anyway."

Good to not be ripping the ship apart again.

Sir Pentious

He's going to take a sandwich and start biting... Just little bites. Mentlegen.

"OH? IS DESTROYING YOUR ENEMIES NOT USEFUL?"

Alastor

"I've never considered you an enemy." The answer's out before it occurs to Alastor that Sir Pentious was quite likely including *other* potential enemies among the pool of his monstrous friend's possible targets. "And barely anyone down here that I DO consider an enemy has hardware big enough to necessitate calling him out! So—no, not much use for him, really." SMOOTH RECOVERY. He's going to stuff half a sandwich in his mouth and hope Sir Pentious focuses on the latter half of his statement.

Sir Pentious

..... <:looking:744577544283750520>

He is Looking at you Alastor.

..... <:squint:548214854138200065>

"... *YES*, WELL. FOR SOMEONE YOU DO NOT CONSSSIDER AN ENEMY, YOU CERTAINLY HAVE A WAY OF TAKING THE STEAM OUT OF HIS ENGINES." Pentious two of those times are entirely your fault. (Maybe even three.)

Alastor

For the next thirty seconds Alastor's number one priority is pretending that didn't cut him to the bone. He arches an eyebrow. "Sometimes someone you don't consider an enemy aims a cannon with a barrel wider than you're tall at your face, and you find you don't have many options but to aim something bigger back."

Brandy sounds better than tea right about now. He's gonna snag that bottle and pour some out. "I could've dodged, I suppose. It would have made me look bad and the hotel would've taken the shot—but I COULD have." A shrug.

Sir Pentious

His tail curls a little more around their picnic area. He's so much longer now. Pentious closes his eyes, grinning just before sipping his tea.

"I WOULDN'T WANT YOU TO GO DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT, IF I AM BEING COMPLETELY FRANK! WHERE'SSSS THE FUN IN THAT? SSSTILL, YOU DEFENDING A HOTEL? YOUR *LUST* FOR ENTERTAINMENT REALLY DOES MAKE YOU UNPREDICTABLE. WHY, YOU COULD TURN HELL UPSIDE DOWN IF IT MEANT OBSERVING THE BUSINESS VENTURES OF A RATHER AMBITIOUS INSECT!"

This is a. Compliment? Or a drag? It's uncertain, but Penny is looking very smug about it.

Alastor

That's one crisis dodged. "MY lust for entertainment, you say! Right after saying you'd rather a fight with me be fun than easy! I think you've got a bit of entertainment lust yourself!"

He's gonna take it as a neutral statement of fact. "Ha! Maybe. I don't know about turning Hell *upside down,* though—I'm better at knocking things over than setting them back upright. Now, if anything around here is capable of turning Hell upside down..." He gestures in a way meant to take in the airship. "And not for any mere insect, either."

Sir Pentious

*PURRRRRRR*. That's such a loud Cobra purring. Look at him preening, as he brushes his hood over his shoulder, and holds his talons just below his chin... He is so pretty, look at him.

"YES, INDEED, ONLY A MAN OF MY CALIBER, A DEMON SUCH AS I HAS THE CAPABILITY, THE *DRIVE* TO CONQUER AND RULE ALL OF HELL! AND ONCE I FULLY CRACK THE CAPABILITIES OF INFERNAL ENERGIES, I WILL BE UNSTOPPABLE!"

Alastor

Alastor is Looking. A very pretty snake—and a *proud* snake, which just enhances the prettiness.

He's Looking too much. He's started leaning toward Sir Pent. He hastily leans back. "Now, what's this 'infernal energy' business you've been up to lately? Because it sounds to *me* like you're trying to tap into the same power source us magic users have been utilizing." He wiggles his fingers, *magic users*—alchemical and astrological symbols dance in red around his fingertips. "Is that about right?"

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious seems to be somewhat acclimated to Alastor leaning towards him--his own head is slowly leaning away, unconscious of his own actions therein. Personal space.

His claws wave away the symbols, and Pentious grins at him, "MORE OR LESS, YES. THERE IS A LOT OF ENERGY THAT COURSES THROUGH THE GROUND AND THE VERY AIR IN HELL. WHEN A NEW SINNER ARRIVES, THERE IS ALWAYS A FLUCTUATION IN THE AMOUNT OF INFERNAL ENERGY AT ANY TIME!! I HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT IT IS *TIED* TO SSSOULS, AND THAT THE EYES GROWING AROUND HELL (AT LEAST THE ONES I DIDN'T PUT THERE) ARE LOADED WITH INFERNAL ENERGY."

Alastor

Alastor certainly isn't unconscious of being leaned away from. He suppresses a wince. Right. That's something else he needs to bring up. And sooner rather than later.

But the self-consciousness only has a chance to last a couple of seconds as he's dragged back into the fantastical idea of channeling Hell's own energy through machinery.

"And YOU'VE figured out how to—what, convert that energy into electricity? Or just power machinery on the energy itself, unconverted?" Whichever Sir Pentious was doing, he'd certainly demonstrated the concept respectably enough to Alastor—channeling Alastor's own energy to power that absurdly big gun. "I can only imagine what kind of power you're going to have at your disposal once you've scaled that up! Turning manipulating the power of souls from a skill into a science... Why, who WOULDN'T you have the ability to overpower?" He's already busy mentally measuring up Sir Pentious's odds against Lucifer. No, probably not yet; but getting ever closer.

Sir Pentious

Oh, look at him. He's *preening* again. Every time he's praised and uplifted like this, he just looks like he's *so* proud of himself.

"OH, YES, UNFILTERED FOR NOW! BUT I WILL LIKELY WORK ON WAYS TO FILTER OUT THE IMPURITIES... IT IS SSSUCH AN ABUNDANT ENERGY SSOURCE THAT WHEN IT COLLIDESS WITH SOMETHING... MORE EYES ARE FORMED, AND THUS, MORE PATCHES OF ENERGY. OF COURSE, ONLY A DEMON SUCH AS *I* WOULD THINK TO UTILIZE IT!"

Alastor

"I certainly haven't seen anyone else trying!" Which is something, because plenty could have. *Alastor* could have—he himself works with that energy every day, it's the power behind his magic and even his machinery.

But Alastor has only ever used it as he's always used magic, tamed through his intent and his will. Like trying to move water from a river to a pond by cupping it in his hands—and here's Sir Pentious building a canal.

"How much have you looked into technology that's already powered by souls?" Alastor summons up his cane and holds it across their spread of food, microphone out. It rolls its eye as it tries to make eye contact with all of Sir Pentious's. "It works just like any other microphone—but it's not running on a battery, it's running on me. I couldn't begin to tell you how. The way I see it, either you already know that part and you can tell me—or you don't know, and studying it could give your research a boost."

Sir Pentious

Alastor's question has him looking over at the deerman with a bit of a squint. Ah, this topic... He'd attempted to keep his knowledge of this kind of thing on the *down-low*, but it didn't surprise him all that much that Alastor of all people would be more aware of it. Sir Pentious looks more closely at the cane, studying its singular eye, and he takes his hat off, holding the accessory close to it.

"IT IS RATHER A MIX OF THE TWO, ACTUALLY. I DO NOT FULLY UNDERSTAND IT, MYSELF, BUT I DO KNOW THAT OUR BODIES, THE STATES OF OUR SOULS AND MINDS HAVE AN IMPACT ON THE HELLSCAPE AROUND US, OR AT THE VERY LEAST, OUR *PERSONAL* HELLSCAPES."

The Hat is Looking at the Cane. .... Big grin!

Alastor

"Well, do you need another test subject to help you understand more? I'm connected to the cane, I can manipulate radios, I've got limited skill with some other machines... some of it's just broadcasting signals, but some of it's magic. Hell, I've got radio parts IN me—but you're going to have to take me on a couple more picnics before I agree to any dissections!" Look at him so eager to offer assistance, please let him help take over Hell, oh please, oh please— "I'm sure your research is miles beyond anything I'm built to do, but if there's anything I can naturally do more efficiently that you can copy—why reinvent the wheel?"

The cane winks at the hat. It's just a blink. There's no actual way to tell it's winking.

Sir Pentious

HMMMM. Pentious' tongue flicks, and he suddenly leans in VERY close. His hand reaches to grab Alastor's arm, and he begins inspecting him.

"YOU ARE A LITTLE *THIN* TO BE IMPALED WITH MY SIPHONING TOOL. IT WOULD GO RIGHT THROUGH YOU, BUT PERHAPSSSS I COULD WORK ON MAKING SOMETHING SSSMALLER." Another tongue flick, "YES, YES, LIKE A..." OH he's just going off on experimental mumbling. Mad Genius here.

The Hat is Looking Away.

Alastor

That arm is Sir Pentious's now, Alastor doesn't need it. It's safe to lean in now, right?

For the moment, Alastor forcefully swallows back the urge to fling out suggestions and questions, instead listening carefully with ears perked toward the mad genius mumbles.

Well, fine, maybe the cane didn't want to make eye contact. It looks away too.

Sir Pentious

Pentious doesn't lean back this time, though his hood opens up as he rambles on. Big and showy snake.

"HM HM! YESSS, I SHOULD LIKE TO RAM ALL KINDS OF THINGS INTO YOU, HA HA! FOR SCIENCE. FOR DISSSSCOVERY."

He smiles far above his eyes at Alastor. Sir Pentious was looking more in color than usual. This is one happy and energetic Cobra.

The Hat looks back at the cane, making a quizzical expression........

Alastor

Don't mind the brief burst of shocked static as Alastor processes the words that just came out of Sir Pentious's mouth. "... Well! You know me: high pain tolerance and far too curious for my own good! It sounds like an agonizingly good time! Call me over to ram whatever you'd like into me any time you want!"

... Is the hat looking at the cane again? It glances over to check—oh, yes, it is, look away, look away quick. ... Check again.

Sir Pentious

The hat is looking at Pentious now like B/. Penny is ignoring his sassy chapeau as he goes right back to preening.... Dainty claw taps to his hood.

"I SHALL CALL YOU OVER WHEN I HAVE SSSSPACE TO STRAP YOU DOWN TO A TABLE! NYA HA HAAAAAAA!!!"

Alastor

And just when the cane thought it was making some real progress with the hat.

"I'll be eagerly awaiting your call!" It's a date. Well, not a date, but close enough.

Oh, right, there's still food here, isn't there? Alastor nearly forgot. He's gonna grab another sandwich. "Say! While we're on the topic of ramming into each other's personal space..."

Smoothest conversational segue in Hell's history. Ladies and gentlemen, a professional radio host at work.

Sir Pentious

..... That segue is enough for Sir Pentious to realize he said something weird before, and he lights up like a pink light bulb.

"I DIDN'T MEAN THAT IN A *PERVERTED WAY*, ALASSSTOR!!!"

Alastor

"I didn't think you did! I know you m—I didn't mean it that way either!" Okay segue a little faster, Alastor. "It's about—I wanted to talk to you about Broadway."

Sir Pentious

He's already in full Pentious Pout as he replaces his hat on his head. Arms folded. Huff.

"ABOUT BROADWAY? WHAT ISS IT?? I DO NOT WANT TO GO AGAIN FOR A LITTLE WHILE, I HAVE A SCHEDULE TO KEEP TO!"

Alastor

Farewell, hat; cane hardly got to know thee.

"No, about last trip. There was—well." Don't tiptoe around the topic, remember, Sir Pentious prefers direct and plain. Alastor cuts out about five sentences of easing his way into the topic and plunges in. "You shoved me off of you." (And yes, it HAS been haunting him ever since.) "Now, believe it or not, I'm actually putting a little effort into being less of an irritation than usual. If my presence is getting on your nerves... just say so. Preferably before I've become so annoying that you feel the need to bodily push me away." A wan smile. "My goal is to AVOID reaching that point, see."

Sir Pentious

Well, that wasn't what he was expecting. Pentious squints, trying to remember. So much happened that day...

"COME ON, MAN! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER THAT? COULD YOU BE MORE SPECIFIC???"

Apparently Broadway wasn't enough. Pentious may have smushed all of New York into Broadway. Even the restaurant was Broadway.

"I DO NOT RECALL DOING ANYTHING OF THE SSSORT!"

Alastor

"Oh, well! That's comforting." And also embarrassing, if it was such a not big deal that Sir Pentious doesn't even remember it. "During the musical. When we were leaning on each other. Not long after we were joking about... how much we don't like physical contact." Ah. "That was it. That was the hint to get off that I missed, wasn't it."

Sir Pentious

Pentious looks at him like he's speaking a different language, and he recalls everything going on at that point. These two having a laugh, and then Valera withdrawing and ignoring him suddenly.

He frowns, remembering her hand slipping out of his even though he had squeezed it lovingly. They'd talked about that after but it had hurt his feelings.

He waves Alastor off! "NO, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT! IT WASN'T ABOUT THAT AT ALL!!! VALERA PULLED AWAY FROM ME AND I WAS AGITATED AFTER BECAUSE OF HER BEHAVIOR. WHEN THAT HAPPENED, I WAS NO LONGER IN THE MOOD FOR FRIVOLITY!!"

Alastor

“Oh!” He doesn’t quite heave a sigh of relief, but there’s a static hiss as he exhales. “Well, don’t I look a fool, all this time and it didn’t have a thing to do with me! But give me a little credit, here—how was I supposed to guess that you were shoving *me* because of *her*?”

Sir Pentious

"WELL I DIDN'T THINK IT TO BE SUCH A *BIG DEAL* THAT YOU WOULD HARBOR IT FOR WEEKS." He is Looking at you Alastor, like a man on the brink of Realizing Things.

Except he's Pentious, so he just remains on that brink.

Alastor

Alastor’s #1 survival skill is talking himself back from the brink. “Of course you wouldn’t think so! Not to put too fine a point on it, but at the moment I’m in a far more precarious position than you!” His smile is nearly a grimace. “YOU, after all, are not engaged in ongoing efforts to convince a man you messily backstabbed that you’re worth the risk of keeping around! You don’t have to wonder what little irritation might be the last thing he’s willing to stand out of you. You’ve got nothing to prove.”

He lets that thought linger for only a split second; and then hurries onward: “So my initial request still stands. Tell me if I’m going too far—on anything—BEFORE I’m past the point of no return. You have enough to resent me for. I’m trying not to add more.”

Sir Pentious

Alastor is also very good at just talking a lot, and Pentious is listening but also shifting his mouth from side to side. His hood flares out and he throws his arms up!

"WELL I DIDN'T TELL YOU BECAUSE IT WAS NOT A BIG DEAL TO ME!!! I MAKE A POINT OF BEING DIRECT, ALASSSTOR ! YOU ARE THE ONE WITH DIFFICULTIES ON THAT FRONT, NOT I!"

Alastor

“Clearly it wasn’t! So it’s—The request is for future reference. For situations where it DOES apply.”

Sir Pentious

"WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?? OF COURSE I WOULD TELL YOU!!"

He stretched out his bowtie, "I HAVE CLASS, AFTER ALL!"

Alastor

“Well, good! Glad that falls under your criteria for class, then.”

Mission accomplished, he supposes. On the other hand, he just tried to be about as direct as a bullet and on top of that spilled approximately 1/3 of his heart to Sir Pentious, and he’s not sure if any of it registered at all.

That’s fine. He’s got brandy.

Sir Pentious

Unfortunately, things always took a while to really register for Sir Pentious. He'd never had friends he could rely on, and even his previous partnership with Match had been, from his perspective, business. Although working together with someone so closely was different for Pentious, too... He was awkward and aggressive and questioning everything.

So he pours himself more tea and looks away, without turning his head... And thinks over the things Alastor has said to him. He was trying so, so hard to be appear trustworthy, and that made the snake's paranoid brain more suspicious!

Which sucked. He liked Alastor's company, which was why he didn't want this to all go belly up. His tail curls closer, now, sliding against the deer's backside. You now have a sofa.

"... ALASSSTOR. I *DO* RECOGNIZE YOUR EFFORT. CONTINUE TO BE UPFRONT WITH ME, I CANNOT PROMISSSE WHAT MY..." He gestures, vaguely, then points to his head with an ashamed expression.

"JUST! *BELIEVE* ME WHEN I SSSAY I WILL *TELL* YOU."

Alastor

He is IMMEDIATELY leaning back on that sofa oh hell yes he's been trying to avoid touching Sir Pentious too much and being able to lean back against him is bliss. It's like a hug, except minus any and all features that resemble a hug in the slightest.

He waves off Sir Pentious's embarrassed disclaimer. "That's all I ask for! I'd like you to notice it. I don't expect you to TRUST it. Getting you to trust it is my job." And a job that he takes zealously seriously. He had been allied with his own Sir Pentious fifteen years before abruptly betraying him; if it takes another fifteen years before this one is completely comfortable with him, it will be fully justified and worth the wait. "I believe you. And thank you."

Sir Pentious

C O m f Y.

Sir Pentious turns his head, idly fidgeting with his jacket. WELL NOW HE FELT AWKWARD. And sweaty. Why did he feel SWEATY he didn't SWEAT. Penny pouting...

He reaches for the brandy, pouring himself a glass!!!

Alastor

That was, in Alastor's opinion, quite enough time spent talking about things like trust and communication. It's high time for Alastor to move them on to another topic. He'd thought of one earlier, what was it?

"Oh! Before I forget again—to celebrate the ship repairs, I got a little housewarming gift!" He pauses. "... Shipwarming gift. Want it now, or should it wait until all the repairs are finished?"

Sir Pentious

Pentious turns his head RIGHT BACK to Alastor in interest. A present??? A present! His hood floops open as he brings a hand out in interest, "OH? A SHIPWARMING GIFT??? HOW THOUGHTFUL! WHAT ISS IT? I AM *DYING* TO KNOW! HAHA!!" That clearly took his mind off of the awkwardness of the previous conversation. Eager to get away from vulnerability, thy name is Sir Pentious.

Alastor

"So, right now it is!" Alastor kind of thought it might be. He opens up a portal in mid-air to reach through and rummage around until he finds and retrieves a simple paper bag with the top rolled shut. "Here. I suspect it's going to take a little explaining." But he'll give Sir Pentious a chance to see what it is first.

Inside the bag are five little pouches of cotton gauze dyed red, tied shut with two long loops of fabric so tightly they'd have to be cut open. Visible beneath the gauze is a second layer to the pouches, clearly made out of snakeskin (guess whose); and between the gauze and the semi-translucent snakeskin, it's probably too difficult to see any further inside. Each double bag is stuffed full with about as much material as could fit inside a typical cup of yogurt, and whatever's inside is slightly crunchy.

Sir Pentious

A paper bag causes a grimace to appear on the serpent's expression.... What, a packed lunch? Of course not, but with the ratty preparation, he's really going to have to be won over!

Though looking inside just raises *further* questions...... Is that his skin. Sir Pentious looks up at Alastor without turning his head up to follow, a kind of expression that reads *Alastor, what the fuck am I looking at?*

Alastor

"I didn't have time to gift wrap it," he says dryly.

He scoots closer to explain the gift. (Note that he doesn't scoot AWAY from Sir Pentious's tail. He just sort of scoots around the perimeter of the picnic so he can keep leaning on the tail.) "I thought that—well, this poor ship got knocked outta the sky twice in short succession, it couldn't hurt for you to have a little bonus protection! Not extra armor—you've got that handled—but something to designed to repel more... MAGICAL assaults. So! You've got yourself the typical crystals and herbs, all bundled up in snakeskin—snakeskin is WONDERFUL for protection work, and no magical ingredients are ever stronger than ones DIRECTLY connected to the person they're meant to protect—plus a tiny portable radio in each one—got those from the dollar store!—to ensure they remain connected to their power source."

Look at him beaming. He's so proud of himself. "Just hang one up by whatever you consider the main entrance, and arrange the other four around the ship against the inside of the hull to form as close to a pentagram as you can, and they'll do the rest! Of course, a few little bags can't knock out every hex, curse, and spell—but they'll make it a damn sight harder for them to get through!"

Sir Pentious

He's listening to Alastor, occasionally tilting his head and plucking up once of the little bags to examine it. Very odd to see his own skin used for something like this... Usually he just burnt it. But he does like the fact that he was given something so specific... Alastor really wanted him to build his ship, and, considering it was an Alastor that blew it up *every time*, this would have to be a good ward!

"WHY ISS SSNAKE SSKIN GOOD FOR THESE THINGSSSS IN PARTICULAR?"

Local inventor specializes in machines, not hoodoo or whatever this was. He probably would enjoy studying it.

Alastor

"Why, bits of snakes are good for a whole slew of things! Snakes are some of the most inherently magical creatures you'll find. Venom for cursing and crossing, blood for poisoning—naturally, you can use venom for poisoning as well, but there's no magic needed for that, hah!—and snakeskin, it's something that a snake sheds off from time to time to be symbolically reborn; so it's good for magic tied to symbolic rebirths—like rebuilding your ship, here—or good luck—'shedding off' old, bad luck, see—and on and on. And ANY skin or hide or leather is good for protection, since that's what a skin is FOR, but between snakes' natural magic and the connection you'd have to the skin, under the circumstances this snakeskin is going to work better for you than, say, cow hide."

He's rambling, but it's a very excited rambling. He's rarely asked about his magic, and when he is it's rarely by somebody he'd really really like to share that info with.

"So I'm afraid the explanation isn't something simple you can find with a microscope—no chemical reactions or analyses of tensile strength involved. In my experience, most of magic is... you know how humans look human in the living world, but in death their souls takes on traits that metaphorically suit them. Spin a web of lies and see yourself reborn as a spider, that sort of thing. It's no different here: you've got something's physical form, and then you've got the traits that metaphorically suit it—and it's the metaphors in that object's 'soul' that hold power in magic."

Sir Pentious

Alastor most assuredly knew all about these sorts of things... and honestly! Sir Pentious couldn't hide the grin that was spreading over his features. Listen to this man go off--there were very few in Hell who prattled on with such excitement about their craft. Alastor, of course, and himself! Of course, there were likely *others*, but Sir Pentious frankly didn't have much patience to listen to much other than what he deemed to be interesting and good work. Yes, indeed, if it didn't pique the serpent's interest, did it really count as work at all?

No, apparently. So his own shed skin was most exceptionally effective! He couldn't do any scientific examinations, though, and that news brought his grin down a little as he went back to examining the contents. And then... Sir Pentious reached into his coat to withdraw a pair of glasses. They had multiple rows of magnifying lenses upon them, and he put them on, leaning his head back so that he could get a better look. Alastor had JUST SAID he couldn't find anything under a microscope, but apparently, Sir Pentious wanted to see for himself!!!

"I WAS REBORN IN HELL AS A SSSNAKE COVERED IN EYESSS. IN LIFE, I MUCH ENJOYED SSERPENTSS, BUT IT MIGHT BE MORE TO DO WITH THE KIND OF PERSSSSON I AM, HMM? SSSOMEONE WHO SSTRIKESS WITH CERTAINTY, *DEVOURING* ALL WHO UNDERESsssssTIMATE ME!" Big grins, his eyes all glowing red as he flicks his glasses--with the way he's looking at Alastor, it kind of looks like he has eight eyes, now that the lenses are all resting in different places. Eldritch Grin!

Alastor

Oh, look at that smile! It's nearly enough to make Alastor's heart start beating again. "Could be. Or perhaps it's both! Honestly, I bet there are more factors than we can dream of that decide our shapes down here. Maybe you were fated to become a snake the minute you named yourself serpent-ious!"

And here was Alastor thinking Sir Pentious couldn't squeeze on any more eyes. What a look. "Now, how many optometrists did you burglarize to make that thing?"

Sir Pentious

Clearly, that assertation sits well with him. Look at that smile.

Though the question that's posed gets another wide grin out of the serpent!

"OH, THESE? OH, YOU KNOW." A hand gesture, "BUT MOSTLY I TRY TO MAKE MY OWN MATERIALSSS, IF I CAN! THE LESS I HAVE TO INTERACT WITH THE DENIZENSS OF HELL, THE BETTER! UNLESS I AM BLOWING THEM TO BITS!"

Alastor

"You want something done right, you've got to do it yourself!" (How much meat is left? He's gonna snag some more. Yum.) "Where ARE you doing your materials fabrication these days, anyway? Can't be all aboard your ship, but I don't know what your current territory look like."

Sir Pentious

He makes a bit of a *face*, and puts the little baggies back inside the main baggie, before picking up his mug of brandy... "I HAVE TWO FACTORIES TO MY NAME, WHICH IS REALLY A GODDAMN SHAME. I INTENDED TO TAKE MORE TERRITORY AFTER THE LATESssssT EXTERMINATION, BUT EFFORTSSS WERE THWARTED BY THAT HARLOT--" he looks around like he just fucking saw a ghost--"CYCLOPS WITCH AND ANGEL DUST ATTACKED ME! I HADN'T EXPECTED HER TO HAVE SO MANY EXPLOSIVESSSS ON HAND. ALAS." Sip.

Alastor

"That IS a shame." Only two. Good grief. It's amazing Sir Pentious gets anything done at all, although Alastor doubts he'd appreciate hearing so.

He saw the fight with the harlot cyclops witch on the news. In his opinion, Sir Pentious shouldn't have had any trouble with her or with Angel Dust. The fact that he did... well. Alastor can't very well blame Sir Pentious for that, can he? "Maybe next extermination you ought to venture further from downtown and snap up the suburban industrial zones? I expect the turf's less hotly contested out there." He huffs. "But you've probably thought of that." Unlike Alastor, who hasn't had to think about this in half a century and even back then the extent of his involvement in the strategy was deciding how he'd like to crush his assigned target.

Sir Pentious

Looks like he's about to INTERJECT but then. Bingo. Sir Pentious nods, a little solemnly, looking pretty tired. "YES, EXACTLY, I *HAVE* THOUGHT OF THAT. BUT NEXT TIME I WILL BE MORE SSSUCCESSFUL! I WILL *DOMINATE* ANYONE WHO GOES UP AGAINSSST ME!"

He wiggles the bag around with quite the smile, "I HAVE ADDED PROTECTION, AFTER ALL!!!"

Alastor

Alastor beams. "That you do!" The best he can create without bargaining with nobility for a little extra oomph—and if he did that, the strength of the defenses would be tied to another demon's will, not to Alastor's.

"I'd say you have added firepower, too, if you want it; but, well—if you're ever going to call me into battle, it's only going to be a surprise to everyone first time. I'd think it ought to be the kind of surprise saved for a... special occasion."

Sir Pentious

"MM--" He's actually just drinking straight from the bottle. Old times,. Should they even be drinking while about to get back to working with power tools?

Oh well.

"YESSS, INDEED A SSSPECIAL OCCASION! PERHAPSSSS THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY DEATH!"....... He's immediately looking. Uncertain, as he can't exactly remember when that was.

"OR SOMETHING ELSE,"

Alastor

No, it's probably not a smart idea for Sir Pentious to be chugging the bottle before getting back to work. Therefore, Alastor will have to help him be responsible—by slinging an arm over Sir Pentious's shoulders, taking the bottle from him, and chugging it himself.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a special occasion like, 'When you take on whoever's got the most turf once you've worked your way up the ladder.' But, hey! No reason you can't schedule that fight for your deathday!"

Sir Pentious

*DRUNKEN DEMONS WITH POWER TOOLS. THERE ARE NO BRAIN CELLS LEFT.* Pentious doesn't lean away or out of the friendly embrace this time, beaming even if he's a little embarrassed.

"OH IS *THAT* WHAT YOU MEANT? THAT'SSSS NOT A SSSPECIAL OCCASION, THAT'SSS JUST BUSINESS!!"

Alastor

What's the worst that can happen to them? A hospital trip or two? Pshh.

"Well, can't it be both? Business is business, sure—but on the day that, say, for example... old blockhead takes a tumble? I'm going to consider that a *very special* business transaction."

He's not getting pushed away. That's good. That means they're back closer to where Alastor hopes they'd be. Right?

Or maybe it means Sir Pentious is only willing to let Alastor drape around him like this when he's too drunk to think clearly.

That thought alone is nearly enough to make Alastor withdraw completely.

No, not this time. He's already here, he'll enjoy it. But in the future—no getting closer to Sir Pentious AFTER he starts drinking. Once the bottles are open, Sir Pentious can close the distance himself, or else it won't get closed at all.

Sir Pentious

He's not that drunk yet! Of course, Alastor wouldn't know how Pentious felt without the booze nearby.

He himself enjoyed drinking around Alastor--wasn't that proof of trust, of friendship? It was probably not great to go off of Pentious' standards... He didn't really have friends.

"OHH, YESSS. INDEED, THAT *WOULD* RATHER BE A SSSPECIAL OCCASION, HHEE HEE HEE!!" He clacks his talons together with glee.

Alastor

"I thought so!" Oh, Alastor can hear his scream now... "But! I'll leave the details to you. I may have many skills, but warfare strategy isn't among them."

Sir Pentious

"MMM, I SUPPOSE NOT. BUT THAT MIGHT BE WHY YOUR BRAND OF CHAOSSS HAS BEEN SSO EFFECTIVE." Pentious gestures, "YOU SHOWED UP ONE DAY AND NOW EVERYONE ISS TERRIFIED OF YOU."

Alastor

"Amazing, isn't it! I haven't caused that kind of devastation in decades and ninety-nine percent of the population is still too scared to talk to me! Ha!" He shrugs one shoulder, "Still, it's what you say it is—chaos. It's not what one would call a firm foundation for empire-building, is it?"

Sir Pentious

"RATHER LIKE A BIG EXPLOSION WITH NO FOLLOW UP, YOU'RE RIGHT." He makes grabby hands for the bottle again, "LIKE A WRECKING BALL! I DO SO LIKE THOSE MACHINESSSS."

Alastor

He's gonna take another swig before passing the bottle back. "A wrecking ball, hah! How apt. Clears the playing field for something new to be built, but doesn't do the construction itself."

Sir Pentious

Pentious points at Alastor, nodding as he takes the bottle and just holds it, "EXACTLY! THAT'SSSS YOU. BLOW THEM OUT OF THE WATER AND I'LL DO THE REST!"

Alastor

Hand on his chest and smiling widely even by his standards, "With pleasure!"

It's where he was always happiest: blowing them out of the water and watching Sir Pentious do the rest.

Sir Pentious

That tail is slithering closer. You're gonna get a snake hug, you've no choice in the matter. Pentious leans back against his own body, taking another few gulps of brandy before he laughs, "OH, FUCK. WE'RE SSSUPPOSED TO BE WORKING AFTER THIS."

Alastor

Oh no, whatever will he do, it seems he has no choice but to be embraced in a coil of pure friendship.

Alastor huffs. "Maybe we should extend the break." He probably shouldn't be giving orders to an eldritch abomination while tipsy, things tend to get disconcertingly non-Euclidean when he does that. Then he brightens a bit and reaches over to poke the paper sack. "We don't have to be sober to place these, do we?"

Sir Pentious

The mere *suggestion* gets him beaming into full on LAUGHING.

"OH PROBABLY NOT!! BUT I LIKELY WILL NOT REMEMBER WHERE I'VE PLACED THEM, DEPENDING ON HOW FAR WE GO!"

Alastor

"Well, you probably won't *need* to know where they are once they're placed—but still. You never know." He ruminates on this a moment longer. "Well—unless you can think of a better way to pass the time, maybe we ought to just sleep it off and then get back to work."

Sir Pentious

"SSSLEEPING IT OFF IS THE *INTELLIGENT* THING TO DO. BUT I AM NOT YET AT THE POINT WHERE I WANT TO SSSLEEP, SSSO YOU ARE SSTUCK HERE WITH ME A LITTLE LONGER, ALASSSSTOR!" Yes, as if that's not exactly what Alastor wants at this point, but Pentious is somehow still clueless. To him, this is what friends are just like! He broke all kinds of social etiquette rules when he was alive, after all.

Another swig from the bottle, and he hands it back. "THERE'S SSTILL SSSOME SANDWICHESSS TO WORK ON."

Alastor

"I'm not budging." He is being coiled around, he wouldn't leave for the world. If the hotel catches fire right now he'll teleport in a newspaper and start browsing the job listings.

Another swig for him. "I didn't want to hoard them!" He says, and then immediately grabs three, now that he's being encouraged.

Sir Pentious

Prrr Prrr prrrr. Alastor likes his food!! It's not really *cooking* but Pentious always put work into it regardless. Picnic fair was his favorite.

He leans on Alastor, and splays his hand open as he reaches towards the sky.

"HELL *WILL* BE MINE. I CAN ASSURE YOU OF THAT. NOTHING WILL TAKE THAT GOAL FROM ME, ALASSSTOR. THAT ISS A *PROMISE.*"

Alastor

He has to swallow quickly to reply. (He'd stacked two sandwiches on top of each other to bite.) "I know it will. It's just a matter of time."

And he truly believes it. Not that Sir Pentious WILL—there's too much that's uncertain, too many people that will be doing everything in their power to stop him—but that Sir Pentious CAN. He's the only person in Hell that Alastor believes can. And he's going to see it happen or get exterminated trying.

#hissandvinegar #chat log

4 notes · View notes

the-light-finds-its-way · 5 years ago

Text

So here’s another Destiny dream I had

This one is really heartwarming, although lengthy, so I’m putting it beneath the cut. I titled it “Mysterious Transmission”.

So I had a dream where I was a Guardian, an Eliksni Solar Titan. One day, out of the blue, I receive a mysterious transmission from an unknown source, but it gives a location, date, and time to meet. I grow curious, and try to track the transmission, but to no avail. I can’t find anything, and the only answer is to go there.

I prepare for the moment I need to traverse to the place. I bring thick, heavy armor, a few weapons, but most notably, my sword. That is my signature weapon: my sword. And I go.

The location is some moon for an exoplanet not mapped in the galaxy. Despite this, I feel no inherent threat going here. On the moon, there is a single structure, something which looks like a base of sorts. Outside, there are 17 other ships, all of Guardian make. I am not the only one who was called here.

I land my ship and go inside the base. 17 other Guardians look at me with utter confusion, and I return the look. We recognize there are 3 of each class, and 1 of each subclass. 1 Solar, 1 Arc, 1 Void for every one. All of us have received the same transmission, and we don’t know why, who sent it, for what reason, etc.

Then a voice calls out. Heavy footsteps shake the ground. All 18 of us turn to the entryway.

One gigantic Cabal Primus walks forth, and explains he sent the message to all of us because he needs help. The message had to be encrypted so no other Legions would track him, or know his intentions. Immediately at this, several Guardians attempt to hurt him, but I stop them and say we need to hear the Primus out. The Primus introduces himself as Dumak. He wants to create an alliance with Guardians, and basically bridge the gap between Humanity and Cabal, and turn the Cabal empire into a grand, powerful structure of unity with Humankind. Dumak explains he was inspired by Mithrax, and wanted to follow his footsteps, but he was too afraid to reach out to him because he feared what Eliksni would do, should a Cabal ask for an alliance. Furthermore, Dumak says he will cause us no harm, and that any of us are free to leave if we do not want to be part of this. 6 Guardians leave, and the other 12 of us who remain are now 2 of each class.

Dumak thanks us at this point for staying. He bows to us all and, bearing no weapons, offers us all the chance to ask any questions we have. So each of us takes turns, and asks everything we want to over the course of several hours. By the time we are all done, we know what Dumak is like, what kind of Cabal and leader he is, and everything about him. He faked his death in the Sand-Eater Legion where he was a Valus, and escaped to this moon to set up a base. Sending the same transmission to a few Cabal, none responded, and Dumak was left alone. So he took the step forth to contact all of us who stand now before him, and wants to offer his strength, resources, technology, and army, to Guardians everywhere whenever they need it.

I step forward and say I think this is a great idea. I think there needs to be mutual grounds between species, and an alliance would be a fantastic thing.

The other Guardians agree with me.

Dumak says we need a leader, though. As a Cabal, he is used to leadership being won through combat, and suggest that we all fight to see who can become the leader. Sort of like a Rumble Crucible match.

All of us agree this is a great idea. The most powerful of us should lead.

Dumak watches all of us fight, cheering each of us on and "helping" out by diving to protect the ones who are being rezzed like they're vulnerable babies because he cares so deeply about our safety. It's a brutal fight.

I stand through it all, slaying my opponents with my sword as I do my damnedest to fight. I don't exactly want to be leader, but my pride won't let me lose. I don't want to accept defeat. Eventually, it's down to me versus a Warlock, and she is very skilled. But I unleash the Hammer of Sol, the burning maul, and fly up to reach her and smash her into the floor. She loses, and I am the only one left standing. I am the last Guardian, the leader.

Dumak and all the Guardians congratulate me, and Dumak himself walks to meet me at the battlefield. He thanks me, and calls me the leader.

I tell him, "I might be the most powerful, but that doesn't mean I'm the greatest of us here. Greatness and power aren't synonymous because the greatest is the most capable. Power doesn't determine my capability."

Dumak rests a hand on my shoulder and gently hugs me. He says, "I've lived for tens of thousands of years, and known greatness and where to find it. Your heart is full of it. Everyone's here is, but yours also holds leadership. You spoke first when nobody else would, you held your ground and initiated every action. You are brimming with courage. And that is leadership."

The other Guardians cheer me on, agree, and encourage me. They all agree I should be the leader.

I fall against Dumak in a hug, and nod. I thank him, and say I'll do it.

Instantly, Dumak asks if I or anyone else needs anything, food, rest, armor repairs, anything at all, sort of like an overprotective dad. For those who need it, he takes their weapons and armor into the forge, further into the base, and repairs the pieces entirely.

As the other Guardians converse with one another, waiting for their armors to be repaired, I meet Dumak at the forge and ask him a few questions more. Specifically, I ask him why he'd do this and give up his position of Valus for a cause he doesn't even know if it will succeed.

Dumak tells me because it's the right thing to do, and that Guardians are always doing the right thing. Therefore, he wants others to follow this path, and be inspired to uphold righteous and benevolent views. He doesn't care what happens to him, only that things change for the better.

I tell Dumak he matters, and he deserves to see his plans grow and flourish into a successful alliance. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

Eventually, the 12 of us Guardians are set and ready to go. We discuss what we want to do next, and I lead the way.

The entire time, Dumak keeps in contact with all of us, still exerting his overprotective dad instincts. He genuinely cares for all of us, and whenever any Guardian encounters a single problem, regardless of how minor, he drops everything to help them and make sure they're ok and confident, happy, etc. He literally becomes a father figure to us all.

Eventually, we all inform Zavala, and I take the lead in explaining our intentions. Although he is abhorred by the idea at first, we convince him. He and Dumak meet, and they become great friends.

The alliance is born, and Dumak recruits other Cabal. Calling ourselves the Traveler's Legion, we fight alongside one another and lend our help where needed. I continue being the leader, and Primus Dumak is so proud of all of us Guardians who helped bring this alliance to life. He cares about each of us equally, and loves us like family.

#destiny #destiny 2 #writing #cabal #yes i plan to write more about this and put it on my ao3

18 notes · View notes

thelittlesttimelord · 5 years ago

Text

The Littlest Timelord: Cracks in Time Chapter 10

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: Cracks in Time Chapter 10 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 10/? SUMMARY: A little girl escapes the Time War when the Timelord’s return in “End of Time Part 2″. The newly regenerated Doctor must now raise the little girl while trying to find out why cracks in time keep following them around.

[A/N - We are back in business! This isn’t one of my favorite episodes, but in each one I’m trying to build Elise’s personality a little more. This chapter is only two chapters, but I’ve started on “Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone”.]

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS to find several men pointing guns at him.

They stepped aside and Winston Churchill stepped forward.

Amy and Elise hesitantly stepped out of the TARDIS.

“Amy, Elise? Winston Churchill”, the Doctor introduced. Elise hid behind the Doctor’s legs and grabbed onto one of his hands.

“Doctor. Is it you?” Churchill asked.

“Oh, Winston, my old friend”.

Churchill held out his hand.

The Doctor laughed. “Ah, every time”.

“What's he after?” Amy asked.

“TARDIS, of course”, the Doctor told her.

“Think of what I could achieve with your remarkable machine, Doctor. The lives that could be saved”, Churchill said.

“Ah, doesn't work like that”.

“Must I take it by force?”

“I'd like to see you try”.

“At ease”.

The soldiers lowered their guns.

“You rang?” the Doctor asked. He picked Elise up and set her on his shoulders. He was working on a better way to carry her, but this would have to do for now.

They followed Churchill as he explained why they were there.

“So you've changed your face again”, Churchill said, “And you’ve got a little one now”.

“Um, yeah. Had a bit of work done”, the Doctor told him.

“Got it, got it, got it. Cabinet War Rooms, right?” Amy asked.

“Yep. Top secret heart of the War Office, right under London”.

“You're late, by the way”, Churchill told the Doctor.

A woman came to up them and handed Churchill a clipboard. Churchill handed his walking stick to the Doctor.

“Requisitions, sir”, she said.

“Excellent”.

“Late?” the Doctor asked.

“I rang you a month ago”.

“Really? Sorry, sorry. It's a Type Forty TARDIS, it's…I'm just running her in”.

Type Forty TARDIS? Is that why she made a wheezing sound while flying?

“Something the matter, Breen?” Churchill asked the woman, “You look a little down in the dumps”.

“No, sir. Fine, sir”, Breen told him.

“Action this day, Breen. Action this day”.

“Yes, sir”.

A man walked up as Breen walked away. “Excuse me, sir. Got another formation coming in, Prime Minister. Stukas, by the look of them”.

“We shall go up top then, Group Captain. We'll give them what for. Coming, Doctor?” Churchill asked.

“Why?”

He took his walking stick back. “I have something to show you”.

The four of them got into an elevator and it started rising.

“We stand at a crossroads, Doctor, quite alone, with our backs to the wall. Invasion is expected daily. So I will grasp with both hands anything that will give us an advantage over the Nazi menace”, Churchill said.

“Such as?” the Doctor asked.

“Follow me”.

They stepped out onto the roof.

Churchill gestured to a man surrounded by sandbags with binoculars in his hands. “Doctor, this is Professor Edwin Bracewell. Head of our Ironsides Project”.

The Doctor threw up a V for Victory sign.

“How do you do?” Bracewell said.

A bomb landed nearby and Elise screamed.

The Doctor pulled down off his shoulders and held her to his chest. He rubbed her back in an attempt to comfort her.

“Oh, Doctor. Doctor, it's…” Amy said, looking at all the barrage balloons.

“History”.

“Ready, Bracewell?” Churchill asked.

“Aye aye, sir. On my order, fire!”

A bolt of energy shot out from some sandbags.

“What was that?” Amy asked.

“That wasn't human. That was never human technology. That sounded like…Show me. Show me. Show me what that was!” the Doctor said, handing Elise off to Amy.

She held the little girl on her hip as the Doctor climbed a ladder.

“Advance”, Bracewell said.

“Our new secret weapon. Ha!” Churchill told him.

A Dalek came rolling forward.

Elise saw the Dalek and immediately started screaming again.

Amy tried to comfort her, but the little girl was shaking in her arms.

“What do you think? Quite something, eh?” Churchill asked.

“What are you doing here?” the Doctor asked the Dalek.

“I am your soldier”.

“What?”

“I am your soldier”.

“Stop this. Stop now. Now, you know who I am. You always know”.

“Your identity is unknown”.

“Perhaps I can clarify things here. This is one of my Ironsides”, Bracewell said.

“Your what?” the Doctor asked.

“You will help the Allied cause in any way that you can?” Bracewell asked the Dalek.

“Yes”.

“Until the Germans have been utterly smashed”.

“Yes”.

“And what is your ultimate aim?”

“To win the war”.

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

They went back to Churchill’s office after stopping off at the TARDIS.

Elise was now wrapped in a blanket and had a stuffed bear in her arms.

Amy held her as the Doctor argued with Churchill.

“They're Daleks. They're called Daleks”, the Doctor told him.

“They are Bracewell's Ironsides, Doctor. Look. Blueprints, statistics, field tests, photographs. He invented them”.

“Invented them? Oh, no, no, no”.

“Yes. He approached one of our brass hats a few months ago. Fellow's a genius”.

“A Scottish genius, too. Maybe you should listen to…” Amy said.

The Doctor hushed her sharply and Amy backed off. “He didn't invent them. They're alien��, the Doctor told Churchill.

“Alien?”

One of the Daleks rolled past the door way.

Elise whined and hid her face in Amy’s neck.

“And totally hostile”, the Doctor said.

“Precisely. They will win me the war”, Churchill argued. Churchill was called to one of the war rooms and they followed.

“Why won't you listen to me? Why did you call me in if you won't listen to me?” the Doctor asked.

“When I rang you a month ago, I must admit I had my doubts. The Ironsides seemed too good to be true”.

“Yes. Right. So destroy them. Exterminate them”.

“But imagine what I could do with a hundred. A thousand”.

“I am imagining”.

A Dalek rolled past them and Elise once again hid her face in Amy’s neck.

“Amy, tell him”, the Doctor told her.

“Tell him what?”

“About the Daleks”.

“What would I know about the Daleks?”

“Everything. They invaded your world, remember? Planets in the sky. You don't forget that. Amy, tell me you remember the Daleks”.

“No, sorry”.

“That's not possible”.

Amy, the Doctor, and Elise entered the map room and Amy set Elise on the floor. Her arms were getting tired of carrying the Timelord child. Now she knew why the Doctor kept handing her off or putting her on his shoulders.

“So, they're up to something. But what is it? What are they after?” the Doctor asked.

“Well, let's just ask, shall we?” Amy said walking over to one.

“Amy. Amelia!”

Amy tapped on the Dalek’s shell and its eyestalk turned towards her.

“A…A…” Elise squeaked.

“Can I be of assistance?” the Dalek asked.

“Oh. Yes, yes. See, my friend reckons you're dangerous. That you're an alien. Is it true?” Amy asked it.

“I am your soldier”.

“Yeah. Got that bit. Love a squaddie. What else, though?”

“Please excuse me. I have duties to perform”.

The Dalek rolled away and Elise ran over to Amy.

“Hey, hey. I’m okay”, Amy said, petting her hair.

The Doctor walked over to Churchill and grabbed the cigar out of his mouth. “Winston. Winston, please”.

“We are waging total war, Doctor. Day after day the Luftwaffe pound this great city like an iron fist”.

“Wait till the Daleks get started”.

“Men, women and children slaughtered. Families torn apart. Wren's churches in flame”.

“Yeah. Try the Earth in flames”. The Doctor said the last statement quietly, not wanting to upset Elise.

“I weep for my country. I weep for my empire. It is breaking my heart”.

“You're resisting, Winston. The whole world knows you're resisting. You're a beacon of hope”.

“But for how long? Millions of innocent lives will be saved if I use these Ironsides now”.

“Can I be of assistance?” the Dalek asked, interrupting the conversation.

“Shut it”, the Doctor snapped at it. He turned back to Churchill. “Listen to me. Just listen. The Daleks have no conscience, no mercy, no pity. They are my oldest and deadliest enemy. You cannot trust them”.

“If Hitler invaded hell, I would give a favorable reference to the Devil. These machines are our salvation”.

A siren went off.

“Oh, the All Clear. We are safe, for now”, Churchill said, leaving with the Dalek following.

Amy and Elise came over to the Doctor.

“Doctor, it's the All Clear. You okay?” Amy asked him.

“What does hate look like, Amy?”

“Hate?”

“It looks like a Dalek. And I'm going to prove it”.

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

Amy and Elise followed the Doctor to Bracewell’s laboratory.

“All right, Prof. Now, the PM's been filling me in. Amazing things, these Ironsides of yours. Amazing. You must be very proud of them”, the Doctor said.

“Just doing my bit”, Bracewell told him.

“Not bad for a Paisley boy”, Amy commented.

“Yes, I thought I detected a familiar cadence, my dear”.

“How did you do it? Come up with the idea?” the Doctor asked him.

“How does the muse of invention come to anyone?”

“But you get a lot of these clever notions, do you?”

“Well, ideas just seem to teem from my head. Wonderful things, like. Let me show you. Some musings on the potential of hyper-sonic flight. Gravity bubbles that can sustain life outside of the terrestrial atmosphere. Came to me in the bath”.

As Bracewell held up the files, the Doctor looked them over before tossing them aside. “And are these your ideas or theirs?” he asked.

“Oh no, no, no. These robots are entirely under my control, Doctor”.

A Dalek rolled up to them with a cup of tea balanced on a tray.

Bracewell took the tea. “They are the perfect servant, and the perfect warrior”. “I don't know what you're up to, Professor, but whatever they've promised, you cannot trust them. Call them what you like, the Daleks are death”.

“Yes, Doctor. Death to our enemies. Death to the forces of darkness, and death to the Third Reich”, Churchill said entering the room.

“Yes, Winston, and death to everyone else too”, the Doctor said.

“Would you care for some tea?” the Dalek asked.

The Doctor knocked the tray from his sucker and snapped. “Stop this!”

Amy pushed Elise behind her as the Doctor started questioning the Dalek.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“We seek only to help you”.

“To do what?”

“To win the war”.

“Really? Which war?”

“I do not understand”.

“This war, against the Nazis, or your war? The war against the rest of the Universe? The war against all life forms that are not Dalek?”

“I do not understand. I am your soldier”.

“Oh, yeah? Okay. Okay, soldier, defend yourself”. The Doctor picked up a large spanner and started to hit the Dalek.

Amy picked Elise up and carried her outside the room as she started screaming.

“Doctor, what the devil?!” Churchill yelled.

“You do not require tea?” the Dalek asked him.

“Stop him! Prime Minister, please!” Bracewell begged as the Doctor continued to hit the Dalek.

“Doctor, what the devil? Please, these machines are precious”, Churchill told him.

“Come on. Fight back. You want to, don't you? You know you do”.

“I must protest!” Bracewell said.

“What are you waiting for? Look, you hate me. You want to kill me. Well, go on. Kill me. Kill me!” the Doctor yelled.

“Please desist from striking me. I am your soldier”, the Dalek said.

“You are my enemy! And I am yours. You are everything I despise. The worst thing in all creation. I've defeated you time and time again. I've defeated you. I sent you back into the Void. I saved the whole of reality from you. I am the Doctor. And you are the Daleks!” He kicked the Dalek and it went rolling backwards.

“Correct. Review testimony”, the Dalek said.

A recording of the Doctor played. “I am the Doctor. And you are the Daleks”.

“Testimony. What are you talking about, testimony?” the Doctor asked.

“Transmitting testimony now”.

“Transmit what, where?”

“Testimony accepted”.

“Get back, all of you”, the Doctor told them.

“Marines! Marines, get in here!” Churchill yelled.

Amy rushed into the room holding Elise and ran for the Doctor.

The Marines who followed were exterminated.

“Stop it, stop it, please. What are you doing? You are my Ironsides”, Bracewell said.

“We are the Daleks”.

“But I created you”.

“No”. The Dalek blasted off Bracewell’s hand. “We created you. Victory. Victory. Victory”. The Daleks teleported and they were gone.

“What just happened, Doctor?” Amy asked.

“I wanted to know what they wanted. What their plan was. I was their plan”. He ran out of the room.

“Hey!” Amy called. She groaned and followed after him, the tiny Timelord still in her arms.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor fanfiction #eleventh doctor imagine #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #amy pond #amy pond imagine #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: cracks in time

20 notes · View notes

aswissgaywholivesinoz · 4 years ago

Text

THE FIRST SNOW

(A Michelle Gomez x Female Reader fan fiction)

"(Y/N) , come over here real quick, help me out in the kitchen" I ran over to Michelle, humming a tune. " What's up? " She explained what I had to do and I helped her the next hour. It was quiet. Too quiet.

A week ago I had traveled to Scotland with my best friend lena. My car broke down somewhere down the road, and whilst lena went looking for a phone cell, I stayed next to the car, holding up a thumb. Maybe someone was kind enough to help us out. with a battery. I rubbed my hands against my tights and blew out puffs of hot air that formed little clouds of dust. Lena came back but with no luck. "All I could find was this funny shaped twig." I looked at it , made a face at it and hugged Lena. "We will get out of here before nightfall, don't worry. We have some tea? I'll be back in a minute" Scattering around the car and opening the door, I filled us both a cup of tea. " And now? We wait. "

Three hours later and we were still waiting. Night had fallen an hour ago. "Lena I'm so sorry i-"" Shh! " "Look, I know I said wed be home before-" SHH! " " WHAT?! " I looked down the road and could hear the sounds of a motor. A little later we saw two headlights coming our way. "Quick, turn on all the lights we have! I'll turn on my blinker on the phone" The car came closer and closer as we lit up our car. And then, just like it had appeared, it drove past us. "Wellp, there goes our last battery energy." "We can sleep in the car, tomorrow we can walk the rest of the way, get some help later."

I was about to pull out my sleeping bag when Lena squeaked. "Gee, girl!!" " Look, (Y/N) , look! It came back! The car came back!! " I ran around the car and saw the second car from five minutes ago, pulling up opposite of us.

I ran over and waited for the driver to let their window down. But when they did, I wished that Lena stood next to me, and not the icy breeze of the night. "Girls! What are yous doing? " I held up my pointer finger and turned around. "LEENAA" I turned back around and gave a lame smile. Not today, Satan. As soon as Lena explained what had happened, The lady who drove the car offered us a ride home. Lena gladly accepted . I, on the other hand hesitated. I excused myself and ran back to my car, grabbed my phone and my sunglasses and just waited a moment to clear my senses.

MICHELLe. The Michelle Gomez was the one who stopped. The one who now waved me over. The one who opened the drivers seat door for me to hop in. The one to put a hand on my shoulder ,asking me if I needed a warm blanket. I could only nod. After a while I found myself again. " I am so sorry for my behavior. I guess I didn't dream that someone would actually stop, let alone you! And Yess, I know who you are but no, I won't do any of the creepy stuff fans do. Uhm... Why are we on the opposite way of your house, Lena? " Lena giggled and explained that whilst I was grabing phone, she told Michelle where we lived. But Michelle was too far away from that place and her house was closer in the end. By two hours.

"WAITT! WE ARE NOT GOING TO MICHELLE'S HOUSE?! erm.. Michelle.. I appreciate it so very much, but I couldn't accept that. Just drop us of at an inn?? " "Oh, don't be silly! You are staying at my house, and you don't have to be scared, I am quite nice! And tomorrow I'll drive you back to your car with a new battery. Now nap. You're stressed enough as you are. I'll wake yous up when we're home. " With that I leaned my head against the window and dozed off. I could still hear the gravel road underneath the tires, I could hear Michelle humming a song and talking on the phone to someone.

Eventually the car pulled up and I got out, opening the door for Lena. "Lena! Get out! " We got our handbags and waited for Michele to receive her stuff out of the back of the car. "Can I help with anything? " " Nah, you just follow me. Come along! " Michelle showed us around, told us where the bedrooms and the showers were. She prepared a short snack before we thanked her and went to our rooms.

I heard a nock on my door. I was still standing in the middle of the room, not quite believing that this was actually happening to me, that I was actually standing in Michelle's house. "Yes? " The door opened and Michelle came in. I backed away, slightly intimidated by her presence. "I just wanted to make sure that everything is ok. Do you need anything? "

A hug,I thought. "No, and...thank you, again" Was what I said. "Okay. Here, have my number, just in case I forget tomorrow. "

She handed me a piece of paper. Hesitantly I took it, careful as to not touch Michelle. I wouldn't be able to control myself if I did. "Th.. Thanks.. Uh.. Goodnight? " " Good night, (y/n) " .

An hour later and I was finally laying down. But I couldn't sleep. My car was stood somewhere in the middle of nowhere, unsafe, anyone could smash the windows, anything could happen. I got up and made my way to the couch in the living room. I gazed out the window, watching the snow fall. "Can't sleep? " I jumped and squeaked, turned around and almost died. There she stood. The woman I'd been dreaming about for the past year. The woman whom I had a massive crush on. But not just a crush. In fact, I believe I was in love with her. And now she stood there, a concerned look on her face, her hair messy from the bed, and her night gown, well. I recognized that anywhere. It was the same she wore when she played lillith in sabrina. "Eh.. Uh. Uhm.. No, no I don't think so.. My car... It's uhh.. All alone. " She smirked and stood next to me, gazing out the window. All I could notice was her scent. I can't describe it. But it was like the first rays of sunshine in the morning, kissing the grasshalms.

When I felt a nudge, I shook, and looked up into her eyes. "What? " "Do you want to go and see if it is alright? I would drive, of course. " I thanked her. "I will just have to wait. Is it okay if I stay up a while? I won't touch anything, promise!" Michele shook her head and turned around, saying "I'll fetch some tea for the both of us. Company is better. I'll be back in a minute."

I sat down on the couch and just closed my eyes. "I am so sorry, this is all a wee bit much for me." I leaned back and rested my head. Not long after, I felt the soft cushion of the couch sink beside me. "Here, have a sip." Thankful, I accepted the steaming mug of tea. " I just hope my car is alright. I can't loose it! " "And you won't! That road is not very popular, especially on a Saturday night. You won't loose it. It's gonna be fine. Come here." I looked at her confusedly. What was happening ? Before I could grab my mug, Michelle pulled me into her, so that my back rested against her chest and her chin on my shoulder.

"There. A hug always calms down the nerves." She wrapped her arm around me and with her other one handed me my tea. "Eh... " "Shh. Just relax. Sleep." I finished the tea and closed my eyes. I mumbled "you're dreaming, (y/n). Dreaming. " I realized that I wasn't, the same time Michelle pinched me and giggled amusedly. "I guess not, im affraid" I wanted to jump up and apologize for leaning on her, but she held me down, rocking me to sleep. But before I fell asleep I managed to say one more thing. "You stole that robe from the set. " "And you won't tell! "

I woke up by lena slamming the pillow in my face. "Fuck you! " "I'd rather not. C Mon, Michelle is waiting in the car already!" Lazily, but ever so confused, I lifted myself off of the couch. Where was I again? "Girls! " Was that? "Get up (y/n) ! Get! Up! " I followed Lena Who handed me a Travelers Cup of coffee out the door. There, in the Early Sun Rays, she stood. A Black Haired, Blue eyed, gorgeous Goddess. No, wait, that was Michelle. Wow. "It's too Early!! I can't think right! Lena help!! " But all I got was giggles. Eventually we all ended up in the Car. Michelles Beautiful Car. With it's Brown Leather seats. And it's Red Walls. "(Y/n)? Are you present? " I turned my Head, still very Sleepy, and just nodded. "Right. Ok lets go! "

I sipped on my coffee quietly as I listened to the humm of the engine. Lena seemed very preoccupied by the technology of Michelle's car and pushed all the buttons. Michelle. I still couldn't quite believe that I wasn't dreaming. I looked over. Studied her. How her hair bounced up and down, how her hands lay on the wheel and how her eyes would occasionally squint whenever she tried to see further ahead.

" What's up?" Startled, I looked back out of my window. "(Y/N) ? " I fidled with my hands. "Yes?" It felt unnatural to be adressed by this woman that I loved. Yes. I said it. I loved her. I knew from the beginning that it wasn't just a massive crush. " I know your lookin at me for a while now. What's wrong? " Caught in action. Shit. "Just worried about my car. " Jep, good one, (y/n),good one. "Oh. hey, look we have a battery with us, your car was locked, plus it's Sunday morning so there are nearly none other Cars coming. No one uses that road, really. So stop worrying, okay?"

A little later, we pulled up next to my car. "My Baby!" I pulled on the door handle in order to get out.

"Wait! you idiot! Put on a jacket and gloves!! It's a bloody snowstorm out the-" Lena couldn't finish her sentence before I was out of the car and running over to my sweetheart. "I missed you!". I began scraping down the snow that had built up overnight. I looked inside and was filled with joy that the windows didn't get smashed and we didn't get robbed. " IT'S ALL GOOD! " I yelled. Michelle and Lena carried the battery whilst I unlocked the car.

"Uh.. Bitch? We have a... Problem. ". Oh, no. What now? I came around and saw with horror that one of the tires popped and the paint was damaged. " Damn that'll take some time and money to fix... " I had just finished wiping the snow down and was ready for the battery to be replaced. "(Y/n) , stop, this isn't smart. We should call the service. Let me talk to them."

I talked to Lena whilst Michelle was on the phone. "So. What now? We have to get to your house somehow... It'll be hard in this storm, without a car. And I don't want her to drive us because one, I wouldn't be able to handle sitting so close to her. And seccond, she's done too much for us already. "

Lena wrapped her arm around my shoulder. " I'll call a taxi. It's gonae be a bit expensive but we can stop halfways and jump the train. Give me a minute. " She jumped off the hood and walked a way to get some quiet.

I remembered I had some tea in the thermos flask so I reached for the door, fell off the hood, scrambled up to get into the drivers seat and took the flask from its holder. I stepped back out, wiped some snow off of my clothes, rubbed my hands and opened the flask. I took a sip and- empty. Urgh. I turned it upside down, because that's what every idiot does, and watched the last droplet of cold tea hit the snow. Sigh.

"Nothing left? " I looked at Michelle with a shy smile. "Yeah... I hoped there was more tea! " Michelle chuckled sweetly. "Come here. This'll keep you warm." She pulled me towards her and rubbed her hands up and down my arms. "The service said they will be here in about an hour due to the heavy snowfall, so we have to wait here and signal for them. Let's wait in my car, yes? Call your friend over once she's done... Say, WHAT is she doing? " I looked over to lena and chuckled. " Oh, yes, that's mister Twig, we found him yesterday. She always pretends to talk to objects around her when she's on the phone. She's calling a taxi. To get us to the train station. " Michelle stopped rubbing my arms.

"(Y/n) , you know that that's not gonae happen right? I'm here, I've offered my help, and I won't let you go to a station with a stranger in heavy snowfall where I can't see and follow if he really drives you where you want to go. Nope, you're staying with me. "

Perplexed, not knowing how to react, I let a tear fall and wiggled myself out of her arms. I looked at her. Then I turned around, run to lena, took her phone and hung up. "Lena, pinch me. " She looked at me with a hint of annoyance. Uh-oh.

"(Y/N) , I AM SICK OF YOU! JUST BECAUSE YOU LOVE THAT WOMAN DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN THROW MY PHONE INTO THE SNOW WHILST I AM TRYING TO RESCUE US!! YOU CAN'T FREAK OUT EVERY 5 SECONDS! SO GET OVER YOUR STUPID CRUSH AND PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER! ugh. Now I have to start from the beginning! " Turning bright red, I sat on the ground and stared into the distance. There is no way Michelle didn't hear that. "Lena, we don't need a taxi. She's refusimg to let us out of her sight. Please stop screaming. And THANKS A LOT FOR EXPOSING ME TO THE ONE WOMAN I NEVER WANTED TO BE EXPOSED TO!! " the last bit I yelled back at her, throwing snow at her too.

Slowly I got up, walked to my car, took out a coat and went over to Michelle. " Can I... Can I please just sit in your car? I don't want to talk to Lena. Or of what just happened. Please" Michelle looked at me with a soft, understanding smile. "Of course honey. But I told you yesterday, Company is better. So I'll sit with you. LENA! come inside my car! You don't have to wait in the cold! " We all ended up waiting in her car, listening to Smaltown boy.

#michelle gomez #fanfic #Michelle x Reader #winter #lesbian

5 notes · View notes

marshmallowgoop · 5 years ago

Text

Gushing about Promare (Mega Spoilers!)

I know not everyone has gotten a chance to see Promare yet, but I first saw the movie months ago and have been dying to talk spoilers ever since. So, avoid this post if you haven’t had the opportunity to watch the film yet, but since there’s a tiny bit more availability now, I finally just wanna gush for a sec!

First of all, Promare surprised me. I wasn’t really too interested when the project was revealed, and even when I learned more details at last year’s Anime Expo, I was only moderately invested. The note that the film would be kid friendly is what got me more on board, but I suppose what really got me, more than even the stunning soundtrack (which I think might be Hiroyuki Sawano’s best OST, honestly), was the Trigger x Monster Strike collab.

Maybe surprisingly, I am actually somewhat self-aware, and I recognize that I’m totally biased, but okay, seeing Ryuko and Senketsu noted as characters for the game, right beside Lio and Galo...

Let’s just say that my heart was taken. Seeing that image of Lio and Galo made me fall in love with them, and the comparisons between Ryuko and Senketsu’s relationship and Lio and Galo’s that I found in the 鮮流 (Senryu) tag on Twitter sealed the deal. Teaming up and fighting with the Power of Love is my jam.

So, I got hyped. I expected to like the movie.

But I didn’t expect to find it to be the best thing that Trigger has ever made.

(Well, that I’ve seen, anyway.)

And even after sitting on it for a while, I still think Promare is Trigger’s strongest work (that I’ve seen). Sure, I’ve read many complaints that the film tries to do too much in its short timeframe, that there are too many characters who don’t get fleshed out as they should, that it’s way too predictable and cliche... but I respectfully disagree.

I mean, I do feel Promare would have worked better as a series, sure. But Promare uses its time excellently. Maybe it’s an odd comparison (or maybe not?), but while The Shape of Water devotes a ton of screen time and attention to subplots and fleshing out characters other than the main leads, Promare stays focused. This is the story of Lio and Galo, and it never, ever forgets that. Whereas The Shape of Water drowns its monster love story inside plots of Russian spies and rotting fingers, Promare stays focused. Promare knows what it is and knows what it’s about. It’s the most cohesive and thematically strong piece that I’ve seen from Trigger, and I’m more than glad that the artists decided to focus on Lio and Galo rather than shove in all sorts of good stuff about the other characters at the expense of muddying its heart and soul.

Because as much as I love Kill la Kill—and as much as it’s still my favorite Trigger work, even if I don’t see it as Trigger’s best—that’s... exactly what that show did. I can’t even say for sure what the heart and soul of Kill la Kill is! Sure, I’ve argued that it’s most definitely a love story between a girl and her sailor uniform more than anything else, and I most definitely have evidence to support that claim, but I recognize that tons of other claims with tons of other evidence behind them could be made as well. Maybe, for example, as expressed by director Hiroyuki Imaishi before the series premiered, Kill la Kill is really ultimately a story about the rivalry and eventual friendship between Ryuko and Satsuki. Or maybe it’s about overcoming fascism, or a warning about wearable technology, or about puberty, or finding family, or really a million things. I’ve been in the Kill la Kill fandom for years, and let me tell you: I’ve seen just about everything.

And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But the huge variety in interpretations for the anime most certainly points to the idea that it ain’t all that focused. It’s... a bit all over the place. Too much good stuff shoved into one work, resulting in a mixed mass of awesome that’s maybe kinda hard to make sense of.

(And, for the record, I’ll point out that as much as I often feel alone in my reading of Kill la Kill, I’m really not alone at all. An interviewer for Newtype magazine once said, “When you watch through to the last episode, you keenly feel that Kill la Kill is a story about the relationship between Ryuko and Senketsu,” writer Kazuki Nakashima himself has pointed out several times that Ryuko and Senketsu’s relationship is central to the story, such as in his note in the Kamui Bansho that “You could say that Kill la Kill tells the story of a lonely young woman meeting and losing an irreplaceable partner,” and even among English-speaking fans, I can at least link to this one comment not by me that reads, “It's also weird that they say that Ryuko vs. Satsuki is the core of character drama; while it’s majorly important so far, it’s seemed more like Ryuko and Senketsu share the most important relationship.” I know I’m biased, but, okay, I have support, seriously.)

In my humble onion, Promare combines probably the two strongest story threads in Kill la Kill by essentially making the Satsuki character and Senketsu character the same person. You get the rivalry that turns into a friendship, and you also get the synchronization and coming together of two different people who seem like they shouldn’t get along—the combining of “oil and water,” as Galo himself puts it. The fact that the designs of Lio and Galo’s robots were confirmed to look like Kamui in the last live-drawing session (with eyes on the shoulders and teeth on the chest) only strengthens the Ryuko and Senketsu connection, and, c’mon, you can’t tell me that those trailers and promotional materials weren’t hyping up the Lio/Galo rivalry like Kill la Kill hyped up the Ryuko/Satsuki rivalry. Promare takes two of the greatest parts of Kill la Kill, smashes them together, and makes something fantastic. This is what I would have wanted Kill la Kill to be like.

Yes, Promare’s plot is absolutely predictable and cliche, but that ain’t at all a downside! The film utilizes its cliches well, and our main leads are so charming that the journey is endlessly enjoyable. Promare is ultimately a sweet character drama with lots of flashy action, and that character drama is excellent.

I love so much about it. I love how Galo makes an offensive remark to Lio and immediately apologizes, understanding that it was wrong. I love that Galo saving Lio’s life is presented so respectfully, and I love that Galo isn’t at all bothered or embarrassed by pressing his lips to Lio’s, and I love that when Galo freaks out afterwards, it’s simply because he started a fire when he’s devoted himself to putting fires out. I love how Lio’s flames protect Galo, I love the lyrics to “Inferno” and how they amplify the story, I love that there’s a happy ending and the Burnish don’t all die out because that’s somehow “for the best,” I love that there’s a beautiful heart explosion when Lio and Galo save the world. I just love love love these two characters and this film.

But of course, to address the elephant in the room, I do wish that Lio and Galo’s relationship were more explicit; as is always the case in Trigger works that feature potential LGBTQ+ romances, it was stated at both Anime Expo this year and in the latest live drawing that there are no wrong interpretations and everyone is free to think what they would like. But when someone asked if there would be more “boys kissing” in future Trigger works at Anime Expo, and the answer was “yes,” I’m hopeful and don’t feel bad about what we got. Lio and Galo are a sweet, sweet step in the right direction, and I hope for more explicit, charming, respectful LGBTQ+ content in the future from this studio.

Tl;dr, as silly as Promare is, it almost feels like the studio is growing up. The film is what I consider to be their strongest work to date (that I’ve seen, of course), and I crave more over-the-top, kid-friendly, endearing works from Trigger moving forward.

#promare #spoilers #promare spoilers #kill la kill #monster strike #'for a sec' she says lolll sureeee.....#longer than i meant but ey feel free to send me more train emojis and i'll post some shorter stuff lol #(i'm not answering the last one i got though sorry. i just feel like i'll get ragged on for whatever i say. and i am not dealing with that)

33 notes · View notes

alphawave-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Evil actions and good intentions chapter 13: ‘Charon and Sigma’

Synopsis: The penultimate chapter. The climactic battle to end all battles, as Harold, Sigma, Symmetra, and Winston face off Harold's mysterious imposter. But who's really behind the mask?

Read it here or find it on AO3. You can find me on twitter @alphawave13 or on my Sigrold discord server.

If you like my stuff, please do support me by asking about my writing commissions, or by supporting me on ko-fi.

It’s almost like gazing into a phantom. For the longest time, his mind adrift in that accursed facility, he often wondered how Harold would look like if he were alive. That was long before he knew Harold was alive, of course, long before he had any control over his abilities and long before rescue would ever come for him. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism, having someone on the other side to comfort him. He knew Harold’s mannerisms well enough. It was a simple thing of transplanting that to a new body. The Harold his mind concocted was not unlike the one that stood before him right now, a voice as soft as silk and eyes that perfectly reflected the stars in the sky.

It’s a stark contrast to the Harold by his side, scarred physically and mentally by the Earth and the Moon and the space in between. This Harold, who has lost the innocent naivete of his younger years, who dirtied his hands with blood in a moment of fury, who chose the moniker of Charon and has stuck by his side all this time. This Harold stares at his counterpart in absolute hatred.

“Don’t play games with us. Who are you really?”

“I think you’ve got other things to worry about other than my identity. Your reputation, for example, if you attack me. It won’t look good on Overwatch if you do anything. And that’s not to mention this.” He puts his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and reveals a small USB. Sigma is only able to catch its bright purple colour before the imposter pockets it once more. “You’ll be wanting this, won’t you? All the files have been backed up in here. And you know what, I’ll do you a favour. I’ll do what you want, and we can all leave here in peace.”

As he says that, there’s a large creak as metal breaks. Computer screens all around them begin to fizzle. The server is down. All communication systems are down. No one can contact Horizon ever again.

Winston’s brows wrinkle. “What do you want?”

The imposter smiles impishly. “What I just said. No one will ever know the truth about Harold Winston. The only remaining evidence of your existence and your research is on this USB. You have what you want. Let me have what I need.”

“You know we can’t allow you to do that. That research is important,” Winston says.

“You really want to stand in the way of science?” He shakes his head. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

“You are not me,” Harold growls.

The imposter stares at Harold for a few seconds before chuckling softly. “No. I’m not. I am Harold, but you? You’re the Jade Hare, Specimen: 31. If you really are with Overwatch, I bet you’ve been given another codename on top of all that.”

Harold grits his teeth but says nothing. His cheeks are slightly pink in anger, or perhaps shame. Sigma glares at the imposter.

“The world wants me to return to Earth, I want to return to Earth. They don’t want this Jade Hare nonsense, and they certainly don’t want Overwatch because they are looking into the future. I can give them that future because I see it too. I share their vision. And I will do anything to make sure it comes true.”

Sigma wants to fight back, but his allies do not move and so he does not either, not even to protect Harold’s honour. Even if he was not part of Overwatch, he does not know if he has the strength to fight even a figure in Harold’s image. He wants to hate this man like Harold does, but he loves Harold too much, and that love extends to people that bear his appearance. He's not strong enough, of mind and spirit.

Beside him, Harold crouches down and drops the files on the ground. He holsters his jet injector and walks forward purposely. The other Harold quirks an eyebrow behind his rectangular frames.

“So, I’m not Harold then?” The real one asks.

“You don’t have to be. Not anymore,” the imposter says.

Harold’s lips pull up into a smirk. “Good.”

Suddenly, with ferocious speed he dashes forward and shoves his palm into the imposter’s frames, disintegrating before his very eyes. The imposter steps back, falling to the ground in surprise as Harold grapples him, punching once, twice, before the imposter disappears, leaving behind a robotic endoskeleton. The USB clatters harmlessly onto the ground. The imposter reaches for it but Harold is faster, hissing loudly as he shakes his hand, when suddenly Sigma hears a metallic whirr followed by the clang of metal against the hard floors. Sigma turns around, just barely avoiding a lunge from his imposter. With his powers, he breaks bits of the floor, smashing them together into a boulder before flinging it at his opponent. The imposter is smashed into smithereens, reverting back into its original robotic appearance. A third robot behind it takes his appearance.

“What are you?” Sigma growls.

There’s the puff of an explosion as Symmetra zaps another robot. “Cease your games this instant.”

The imposter laughs maliciously. Their voice has taken on a metallic tint. “Still haven’t figured it out, Satya? It’s a shame. I thought you were much better than that.”

“What…?”

The imposter laughs again, but not in Harold’s voice. The illusion flickers as their appearance morphs and warps. His hair turns into a lighter shade of brown while his skin turns dark as mocha. Their face twists and turns until it no longer resembles Harold, clothes transforming from a lab coat into a familiar looking uniform made of purples and whites.

“Sanjay Korpal?” Symmetra gasps.

“I didn’t want to have to do this,” Sanjay says. “You had so much potential. You could’ve grown to be a great agent for Vishkar, possibly even the best. We could’ve helped the world be reborn. Make sure no one ever has to suffer like we did.”

“You are not the real Sanjay.”

“Of course I’m not. I’m back down on Earth, but I’ve got my helpers up here.” Sanjay smiles. “Funny what a bit of connection can do for you. Hard light and space technology really do go hand in hand. Perhaps the next step for Vishkar is to collaborate with Lucheng Interstellar more in the future.”

Sigma stares at the robotic endoskeleton, vaguely human in shape, a camouflage device imprinted on their head. Beside the device was a flickering dot. All the other bodies have their own flickering light, beating to the same rhythm. A rhythm that does not repeat. Sigma’s seen this technology before, when Lucheng first tried to establish contact with Horizon shortly after the gorilla rebellion. The robots worked on the same neural network, not unlike a hive mind.

“We are meant to bring peace and order,” Symmetra says. An orb of hard light penetrates through a mob of robots, collapsing in a line like domino pieces. “This is not the way of Vishkar.”

“No, Satya. This is the way of Vishkar. You just never saw it for what it truly is.”

The other robots charge at Winston, who stands his ground, ready to fight, only for the robots to all run past him. They smash their heavy bodies to the glass. An alarm whines in the background, an automated voice calling throughout the speakers warning people to avoid damaging the glass. The robots ignore this, charging again and again, the voice repeating its warning again and again. Winston takes off his glasses, growling menacingly as his skin turns crimson, swiping the robots away with his arms, but it doesn’t work. There’s too many of them.

Sanjay smiles cruelly as he turns to Sigma, eyebrows raising as if daring him to attack. Sigma’s lips twist into a scowl as he hurls the hyperspheres at him, destroying the robot, but soon another robot takes his appearance, and then another. The laugh that Sanjay gives is cruel, almost mocking.

“He’s trying to trigger a lockdown!” Harold shouts. “Stop him from destroying the glass. If he breaks it, we won’t be able to get back to the spaceship.”

“You’ve got other things to worry about,” Sanjay says. “Did you really think that USB has what you’re looking for? I’ve got copies. All I need to do is get the encryption key and transmit it back down to Earth, and soon we will know all about your secrets.” His eyes flit to Harold. “You really want to risk that?”

Harold shoots electricity from his jet injector, frying Sanjay. The other robots all begin to take the appearance of the fake Harold as they continue to ram themselves into the glass. Sigma joins Harold, Satya, and Winston in destroying as many as they can, a mountain of bodies by their feet, but the robots still come. It feels endless. Tiring. Sigma can feel his grasp over his abilities slip in exhaustion.

“Please avoid damaging or tampering with the gla—please avoid damage—please avoi—please av—ple—ple—ple—”

The voice dies, and the alarm stops for a second. The lights power down, the only illumination coming from the glowing lunar surface outside and the brilliant blue Earth. Then a new sound echoes, and the world is bathed in blood red light.

“HORIZON LUNAR COLONY INTEGRITY BREACHED. INITIATING LOCKDOWN. INITIATING LOCKDOWN.”

The sounds of shutters rolling down masks the cruel laugh Sanjay gives. Winston is the first to act, leaping out of the way of the robots, glasses returning to his face. He grabs ahold of Satya, and leaps forward back to the observatory and the spaceship.

Sigma is about to follow them when he hears Harold yell. The robots, having completed their job in initiating the lockdown, are now mobbing him. With a wave of his hand, Sigma breaks the chains of gravity and lifts them above Harold. He rushes over, helping Harold stand.

“We have to get on the spaceship before the shutters close. We don’t have time,” Sigma orders.

“I can’t,” Harold says.

“Why not?!”

“The gorillas. They’ll die if we don’t stop the lockdown. The shutters will corner off each individual section of the colony. If they’re relying on the self-sufficiency stations, the farms, the medical stations, they'll all be locked off. No one else will be able to get back here to save them in time and if Sanjay has corrupted all the robots, they won’t be able to do any repairs. I have to help them.”

“Those damned apes have done nothing for you, there is no need to sacrifice yourself for that selfish lot.” Sigma gingerly cups Harold’s face. “Don’t do this. I’m not losing you again. Come back with us before it’s too late.”

Harold frowns. “Siebren,” he starts.

“D-don’t do this,” Sigma whispers. “I’m not as smart as you. Not as strong. I can’t do this.”

“Help me, Siebren. We can do this together.” He takes Sigma’s hand and grips it firmly. Amidst the red, Harold’s golden eyes are as warm as the sun. “My nanobots and your powers, we can be unstoppable.”

“Dr. Winston! Dr. de Kuiper!” Winston calls.

Sigma grits his teeth, tears beading from his eyes. He turns to Winston and Satya, a pained expression on his face, his throat impossibly tight.

Harold smiles bittersweetly. “Get to the spaceship and get out of here, sport. Before it’s too late.”

Winston’s eyes widen in understanding, then horror. “Dad!”

“I’m sorry, champ.”

Sigma opens his hand and uses the force of gravity to push Winston and Satya away, back towards the door to the observatory. Winston stares at Harold for a few seconds from the other side, just as the shutter closes over the door. Winston bangs frantically at the door but apart from some small dents, it does not budge. There is no noise for a minute or two, and then there is the sound of the spacecraft disembarking, blasting off into the cold regions of space.

By Sigma’s side, Harold gives a small smile. Sigma huffs. “I am going to regret this.”

“I know.” Quieter, he says, “Thank you.”

One side of Sigma’s lips quirks up as he brings the robots down to the ground, smashing them into bits. With his powers, he clumps them all up into a ball and hurls it at the shutter to the next sector of Horizon, cracking it open. They run through the wreckage and into the next section.

Harold runs forward, Sigma using his powers to destroy the shutters that block their way. He can see Harold’s eyes flit through the different sectors, mind racing.

“What do we have to do, Charon?”

“We’ve got two options: seal the glass or stop the emergency lockdown. Even if you destroy all the shutters and unlock all the different sections, the base will be losing oxygen. Depending on how much oxygen is leaking, we’ve got anywhere between minutes to weeks.”

“And how much oxygen is leaking?”

“I don’t know,” Harold says. “All I know is we need to head to maintenance. Sector 02. Best case scenario, one of the systems might be able to put an emergency seal in. Second best, there’s a kit for us to do it manually.”

“And if neither of those things are possible? If we can’t get there for whatever reason?”

Harold glances nervously at Sigma.

“Harold,” he utters slowly, “there is a way for us to get back down to Earth, is there?”

Harold doesn’t respond. He keeps his head straight as Sigma blasts down the next shutter doors.

As they race forward, Sigma sees glimpses of the other primates, staring curiously at them. He sees the different sectors, once built for human research and human needs, now repurposed to suit primate needs. Farms are at maximum capacity, growing a variety of fruits and vegetables, the auto-dispenser distributing the rare bit of meat. Clothes are ripped to make hammock nests. And there are so many more of them, so many young ones that can make even his heart melt at the sight. He has to admit, he’s worried that he may have to fight them off, but they’re all looking strangely at him.

No…not at him. At Harold. They’re looking at Harold like he’s a stranger.

Harold glances over his shoulder. “Keeping up?”

Sigma huffs. “May I be the first to say that Horizon was structured horrendously? Why have all your departments in specific sectors?”

“Blame Lucheng, not me,” Harold laughs.

When they finally get to the maintenance sector, Harold immediately dashes for the main office where the computers are. He fiddles with one of them for a minute, his face lighting up.

“The system is still in place," Harold says excitedly. "And not just the one to cease the lockdown, I can stop Sanjay too. All I need to do is—”

Sigma is about to join Harold at the computer when suddenly he feels a pair of strong arms shove him forcefully to the wall, one hand clamped tightly over his neck. His eyes widen as he takes in the massive gorilla holding him like he weighs nothing.

“Simon?!” Harold shouts.

“Why are you here?” Simon’s gorilla eyes narrow on Harold. “You,” he seethes.

“Let him go!”

Before Simon can respond, Sigma hears the distinct clank of metal on floor as multiple robots charge in, bearing the imposter Harold’s appearance. Harold tries to get his jet injector ready, but it’s swiped out of his hands. He’s shoved to the floor, fists desperately trying to get some damage on the metal surface underneath, only to return battered and bruised. Simon doesn’t react, just stares at the scene with mild confusion.

Sigma’s not sure if the oxygen rapidly escaping his body is from Simon’s grip or from the colony itself. He hears another siren, a different warning blaring over the speakers, which he assumes it about the oxygen levels. All he can concentrate on is the area where that little flickering dot would be behind the camouflage. He wants to fight back, but he can't. His powers are failing him with every breath he attempts. His body gets weaker with every second that passes.

“You want to be dead so bad, don’t you. You really have a death wish,” one of the imposter robots snarls.

Harold doesn’t look at the robots. He’s staring at Simon, making a complicated hand gesture. Simon’s grip weakens slightly. Harold’s doing his own plan, Sigma realizes, but is it the same as the one he’s thinking? What is Harold thinking? Why can’t he figure out what Harold is thinking?

“I should have done this earlier," the robots say simultaneously. "Back when you were in Oasis. I chose to keep you alive, because I thought you’d be more useful alive to us. But that’s my mistake, one that I shall rectify.”

“S-Simon,” Harold gasps. “A-air…lock.”

Simon’s lips twist into an unreadable expression, and then his skin turns crimson, letting go of Sigma to swipe at the imposters. Harold is able to scramble free, racing to the computer. His fingers dance on the keyboard while Sigma catches his breath, trying to make sense of this battle between robots and gorilla. Nothing makes any more sense. But then when did anything make sense in his life? Harold types away, “One moment, give me one moment…yes!”

With his words, the lights go out once again. When it returns, everything is the same clinical white. From Sigma’s angle, he can still see the shutter to the next section still firmly in place. Sanjay turns to Harold, shoving Simon away to race after Harold. He is fast, able to close the distance quickly, only for the robot to stop dead in its tracks mid-stride. It falls down with a heavy thud by Harold’s feet.

Sigma turns to Harold, not sure if the expression on his face is amazed or terrified. He assumes it’s the former when Harold chuckles quietly. “These robots are still the original service bots from decades ago. No matter how much Vishkar or Talon might have tampered with them, you can’t get rid of that killswitch. They won’t be moving or transmitting anything anytime soon.”

“You noticed the hive mind network too?” Sigma asks.

“You��re not the only smart guy here,” Harold chuckles.

Simon is still staring at Harold. His skin returns to a dull grey as he brushes himself off. There’s no more anger in his expression, but his face is not entirely kind. “I have built up my people here on this land. If you think we are giving it over to you—”

“I’m not here for you or the others,” Harold replies. “This is your home now. If you know how to get us back to Earth, I’ll make sure no human will ever disturb you.”

Simon gives a soul-piercing glare at Harold for a few seconds before retreating. His expression is stoic. “Fix the mess you made and get out of here. This is our territory now. The moon belongs to the animals.”

It’s not the peaceful conclusion Sigma hopes for, but considering this was the very gorilla that threw Harold out of the airlock the first time, he thinks it’s as much as he can hope for. He's not sure even he can win in a fight against gorillas, much less genetically-engineered ones with a vendetta against humans.

Sigma rounds up all of the robots into a pile near one of the airlocks while Harold undoes the lockdown and seals the crack in the glass. With Sigma’s abilities he forces the weight of gravity on the endoskeletons, crushing them beyond repair and recognition. All except one, that is. There is one endoskeleton that is still maintaining the Harold disguise. Using the pieces of the other endoskeletons, Sigma is able to take a rudimentary picture and send it back to Lucheng Interstellar. The assumption will be that Harold Winston is dead for real this time. Sanjay won’t be able to use Harold’s appearance for his own purposes anymore.

They have a small audience now comprised of the other test subjects, all bigger and older than when Sigma last remember seeing them, silently judging from a far distance. Sigma catches Harold gazing upon them sadly but it is clear there is no love lost between the animals. Though Harold loved them like family, they only saw Harold as the torturer who got away. One wrong move and the animals will attack again. Sigma would comfort Harold, but he knows it's not necessary. This life is no longer his. In more ways than one, the Harold Winston that Siebren de Kuiper fell in love with did die on the moon.

The glass sealed, a warning sign of common lexigrams placed next to the crack, Harold helps Sigma push the robot pieces into the airlock. Harold puts in his code, and the pieces fly off into the moon, scattering across the crater. Not the most environmentally friendly way of disposing the robots, but the safest given the circumstances.

“There is one escape pod in the Hangar,” Simon says. “I do not know if it is functional. You will have to repair it yourself.”

“And if it can’t be repaired? If it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’ll throw you out the airlock just like last time.” His voice is neutral but the way his brows lower make it clear he will make good on his promise.

Slowly they make their way to the Hangar. The escape pod in question is in fact an old satellite. There is no propulsion system, and very little in the ways of comfort and safety, but it can be repurposed to be habitable and be directed to Earth. With the combined efforts of their powers there is a possibility they may be able to survive the impact. It’s far from ideal, and the chance of death is high, but Simon’s threat still hangs in the air. There is no way that Overwatch will be able to requisition another spacecraft in the near future.

“It’s funny, being up here, fixing this up. Wouldn’t have considered doing this the last time I was up in space,” Sigma says.

“How so?” Harold asks.

“The last time I was away from Earth, I was trying to harness a black hole. It was all to do with space travel, actually. Considering what I know now, I probably harnessed something more akin to a wormhole than an actual black hole. I saw it both in reality and in my mind’s eye. If I try, I can almost hear its melody.”

“You think you could do that? Make a wormhole to get us back home?”

Sigma frowns. “You don’t know what it was like when I had my accident. Everything happened all too fast and then far too slow. I felt like I spent a second and a million years trapped in that moment,. I don’t know what will happen if I try to summon it again. I have to get the math right, I need to make sure all the equations are correct.” Sigma gazes at the floor. “Truth is, I am afraid of that thing. Have been ever since.”

Harold puts a hand on Sigma’s shoulder. “Let’s get this thing done then. We’ll keep it as a last resort.”

Sigma smiles. “Sure.”

They continue working side by side on the old satellite. Sigma doesn’t know how much time has passed, just that his body is slow to respond when he hears the ringing alarms of the hangar doors open. Outside is a construction robot, designed for the continued repair of Horizon Lunar Colony, but it’s long since been dormant since the rebellion.

Or at least it should. But all too fast and all too slow Sigma realises that it's moving. And it's charging at them.

Harold whips his head around, readying his jet injector, but he’s too slow to react. He’s pinned to the ground, heavy metal trapping his leg with an audible crack, making his shriek in guttural pain. The gorillas hoot and screech in anger, going red in rage as they try to attack this new intruder, but the construction robot swipes them away with ease. Sigma fires a volley of hyperspheres at the robot, but he’s also shoved to the ground. The voices in his head are drowned out by the alarms blaring above his body and the weak groans that escape his lips.

The construction robot picks the two of them up like they weigh nothing, rapidly moving to the hangar doors. Air is rapidly escaping from them, gravity threatening to pull them out into the moon’s atmosphere. Sigma needs to concentrate to use his powers, but he needs one look of Harold, blood oozing out of his leg, and his breathing gets heavier and quicker. Gravity is fluctuating, but it doesn’t affect the massive construction robot, built specifically for use in multiple different gravity conditions.

The voice that comes out of its voice box is filled with static, crackling noisily, and barely audible. “You make my work worthless. You ruined months of work and years worth of research, and for what? To hide your precious little nanobots for a little bit longer?”

Harold punches until his knuckles are bleeding. “Siebren!”

"If you want to be dead, Harold Winston—"

Sigma desperately flings whatever piece of equipment his powers can raise at the robot, but it only dents it slightly. The construction robot is still functioning.

“—then I’ll make your wish come true.”

“Siebren, make the wormh—”

The construction robot throws them out into the cold reaches of the moon and shuts the door. Even if the door wasn’t locked, they’re floating uncontrollably, the low gravity propelling them far away, too far away to get back in time. They make no sound when their bodies finally hit the coarse surface of the moon. No sound can be transmitted from this world without air. The only thing Sigma can hear is not the universe’s whisperings, not the incessant voices in his head, but his own thoughts, as clear as crystal.

We’re going to die.

Harold stares at Sigma with golden eyes as he tries to crawl to him. It’s not easy in the microgravity, but he floats over, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Sigma feels the soft glow of the nanobots surround his body and enter his bloodstream. Suddenly his one breath feels like it can last so much longer, but it will only buy him seconds. It’s lunar day on the moon, and the temperature is so hot it feels like he’s melting. His skin is sticking to his armour. He's burning alive from the intense heat.

Harold is mouthing some words at him. The same thing he was trying to say before they got sucked out. In this moment, time all too fast and all too slow, he’d tell Harold his greatest fears if he could. He’d tell Harold that the only reason he’s never tried to summon the black hole is because he’s afraid. He’d tell Harold the only reason he never tried to summon a worm hole is because he’s afraid. So much of his life after that tragic accident has been dictated by fear, both the ones he acknowledged and the ones he didn’t.

He almost expects the universe to whisper its dark magic at him and tell him to give up his mind once again, but it remains silent this time. It’s his decision, the universe says in its silence, to die on the moon by the side of his beloved or risk his mind once again and open up the wormhole and take them back to Earth. He wants to give up. He wants to be weak by Harold’s side one final time. He wants to, because he is a villain who has done nothing good in his life, regardless of his intentions. Villains deserve to die at the edge of space, boiled and frozen alive.

But he’s not a villain anymore. He has people who love him. People who care for him and about him. People who look up to Overwatch and its members as a symbol of hope. If he inspires just a little bit of heroism, just enough of a spark to incite curiosity in just one person out there in the world, he can’t be a villain.

He wraps his arms around Harold, humming a noiseless tune that no wind can carry. A wormhole appears, growing between their chests, threatening to consume them. In that wormhole he sees the bridge between time and space. He sees the infinite realities and the infinite version of himself warped and changed through the efforts of infinite realities. Except it’s not just infinite versions of him, but also infinite versions of Harold and Overwatch, all smiling brightly. He thinks of Watchpoint: Gibraltar and the medical wing with Mercy and the training areas with the practice robots and that comfortable king-sized bed and the glimmering waters of the sea, the moon high above their head.

In a flash, they are gone, disappearing from the universe for a moment.

When Sigma wakes up, he thinks he might have died for real. All he can see is blinding white surrounding his vision. He sits up, wincing as pain shoots up his back and all throughout his skin. He glances down, his body wrapped in bandages like a mummy, drips attached at his forearm. Slowly he peaks under the bandages. His skin is noticeably burned, but in the final stages of healing. In days, maybe a week, it'll look like normal flesh once more.

He's alive, he realises slowly. He's alive and breathing and safe.

“Dr. de Kuiper,” a voice sighs. “We were so worried about you.”

Sigma blinks as the light fades into acceptable levels. He’s in a hospital bed, surrounded by many of the members of Overwatch. Mercy is there, as is Tracer, Symmetra, Genji, Sojourn, and many others. He's almost certain the entirety of the reformed Overwatch team is there in this room, except there are some noticeable exceptions. Winston is not here. Neither is Harold.

“Where…?” He coughs loudly, his throat impossibly parched. On instinct, Mercy hands him a glass of water with some kind of tablet fizzing inside.

“Drink,” she says.

He nods slowly, being careful to down it all. He wipes his mouth, relieved that the skin on his face feels relatively normal.

“We found you both on the cliffside here on Gibraltar, unconscious. A gust of wind could have blown you off the cliff altogether if we didn’t catch you as soon as we did. You had severe burns on your skin and a few of your internal organs. I had to work day and night to save you both.”

“He’s…he’s alive, isn’t he?”

Mercy’s face falls for just a second. The rest of the crowd glance nervously at each other.

Suddenly there’s the sound of the door opening loudly, crashing into the wall. Mercy glares at the intruder.

“S-sorry about that,” Winston smiles nervously.

Sigma turns his head slowly to see Harold himself, scarred but smiling, tears beading in his eyes. With Winston's help, he slowly approaches Sigma’s bed, putting a hand on his leg.

“Thank god you’re OK," Harold says.

He can’t stop himself. He turns his body and pulls Harold into a crushing hug. Harold’s laugh turns into a groan as he pats Sigma incessantly. “O-OK, big guy, let me down.”

There’s a few quiet chuckles from the others as Sigma hesitantly lets go of Harold. When Harold relaxes, Sigma punches him lightly on the arm. Harold yelps, more in surprise than pain.

His gaze sweeps over Harold, from the nasal catheter and his grey hair down to his casual clothes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His eyes settles on the newest addition on Harold’s person. One of his legs is in a cast, messages written out on blue and green marker on the bandages. The wheelchair he’s sitting on is old and decrepit but usable. “Turns out nanobots can’t do much about broken bone,” Harold explains. “Compound fracture like you wouldn’t believe. I saw my leg in the x-ray and it was like a jigsaw puzzle. But I’ll be good to go in a month or two, depending on how fast the nanobots work.”

“That is if it sets in the correct position,” Mercy counters. “You must be very careful to ensure that the bone does not set in the incorrect position. If it does, you won't be able to walk or run properly ever again."

"I'll be fine," Harold insists. "I'm sure I will with your nanobiotics. I've been doing some reading on them, and I'm thinking it might be possible to combine them with my nanorobots. Nanobiotic nanobots. Has a nice ring, doesn't it?"

Mercy gives a hint of a smile before it gives way for professional stoicism. Sigma turns to Mercy slowly. "Is it possible I can talk to Harold? Alone?"

Mercy isn't even able to open her mouth before Tracer blinks forward, pushing Mercy towards the door with an overenthusiastic grin. "Not a problem, Doc, we'll get out of your hair. Come on, everybody. Hut two, hut two. Leave the space dads to do their space dad things."

On Tracer's orders and her incessant shoving, everybody crams themselves through the door and shut it behind them. Harold looks up at Sigma, his soft smile growing coquettish. "Guess we're alone now."

"Indeed," Sigma says softly.

There are a thousand different things Sigma can say to show his appreciation and his love and his relief and his hurt. There are so many things for him to say, but he doesn't say them. He just takes Harold's hand into his own, feels the warmth spread through his body, and knows deep in his soul that this is the man he loves, and whom he will love in return.

"Never make me do that again," Sigma whispers. "And never risk your life like that again."

Harold grips Sigma's hand tightly, his smile as bright as the light of a 1000 suns. "No promises, big guy. I'll always help the ones that I love and care about."

"Does that include me?"

"That will always include you," Harold says. He places a tender peck to the back of Sigma's hand. "From now till death do us part."

Sigma laughs weakly. "I don't think even death can tear us apart."

Harold stays for the rest of the day, chatting about everything and nothing. Sooner or later, the two of them fall asleep, Sigma in his bed, and Harold in his wheelchair, their heads leaning towards each other.

#Overwatch #Sigma #Siebren de Kuiper #Harold Winston #Sigrold #Oh god this chapter #The penultimate chapter had to be the most action packed that's why it took so long #But it's finally finished #So now I have the epilogue to do and the story will be done #Thank you to everybody who's been supporting me on this journey #Still can't believe all the Sigrold I've got over the months #I'm probably still gonna write stories for them but like one-shots #But before that I owe you all a nice fluffy ending #Stick around for that because something tells me I'll get that done real quick

8 notes · View notes

overdrivels · 5 years ago

Text

Self destruction and self sabotage seems to be Hanzo Shimada’s very own modus operandi. It’s not that he was not trustworthy—no, he is a man who could be given orders to and expected to complete them with professionalism and such efficiency it is hard to argue his place on the team regardless of how certain members felt about the arrangement—but his presence left many uneasy.

For all the orders and missions he completes, he still had a lot of learn about teamwork or at least entrusting his back to someone else. Genji chalks it up to being on the run while solo for ten years. Others are quick to blame his personality. One or two even think that it may just be a ploy of sorts (but those thoughts are never really voiced). There were several close calls of Hanzo nearly breaking someone's nose for coming too close unannounced or not communicating his position enough (leading to someone nearly shooting him) only strengthens people's unvoiced doubts.

Regardless, it was decided by the powers that be (Winston) that the benefits outweigh the risks and still assigned Hanzo to group missions.

Like now.

Hanzo nearly chokes on his breath when he spots the blur from the corner of his eye. Too fast. Dangerous. He pulls hard on his bow string, spins sharply—

The muscles on his shoulders spasm with the abruptness in which he forces himself to stop. His heart hammers in his throat and head, frantic with a visceral fear that he had not felt in a long time. It almost makes him want to vomit. He barely avoids letting loose an arrow straight into your helmet.

Especially when you amble toward him, nonchalant in that pangolin hardlight suit of yours, hands together like the meek animal you represent, unaware of the danger you just were in, unaware you were just a hair away from death by his hands and if he had realized who you were a moment too late, you wouldn't even be standing or breathing or kneeling next to him or able to use your voice to ask:

"Are you all right, Hanzo?"

He slaps away your hand, barely aware of the fiery sting of his forearm.

"Get away," he snarls between panicked gasps.

Emotions make an assassin inefficient. An inefficient assassin is a liability. Liabilities need to be disposed.

He barely notices the appraising look on your face, too focused on steering himself away from his weaknesses as a professional.

"Excuse me."

So he could be forgiven for nearly smashing his elbow into your face when you grab him by the waist and hoist him over your shoulder. Hands scrambling, he seeks leverage to throw you from his position—he's done it before on bigger and stronger opponents—but the armor is smooth, the momentum too little, your grip a little too skillful, and the intent and motion too gentle.

You begin to run and not a moment later, the sound of gunfire follows. Snapping out of his head for a moment, he shouts, “What are you doing?”

“Saving you. Watch your head.”

He ducks just in time to avoid getting hit in the head by a metal bar twisted out from it's structure.

He could easily break your arms and choke you in at least thirty different ways, but you manhandle him like you don't care.

“I could kill you," he hisses as menacingly as he can. It's not just to remind you but to remind himself, will his body into action. He does not need to be rescued or carried. This sort of thing is for damsels in distress, injured persons, or the dead, and he is certainly none of the above.

“Yeah, I know. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, but just in case, I already have my will and power of attorney set up."

For once, Hanzo is completely dumbstruck, staring down at your profile. The blatant disregard for his threats seem to be almost on-par with some of the other agents who act like he isn't as dangerous as he truly is. But he never got a handle on you or your thoughts on having a brother killer on the team. Your reaction would be funny if you weren't both running for your lives, pursuers audibly behind you.

Using what little leverage he has, Hanzo disposes of his useless thoughts, swings his bow over your head and focuses on what he can do best: killing.

With you to absorb any attacks with your Pangolin suit, he only has to worry about accurate headshots from the enemies, and at this distance, they weren't going to accomplish that any time soon. Your scales were raised, able to deflect the full brunt of any stray bullets that came for his face.

The suit is just an over glorified suit of sectored hardlight armor, scales that form out of everywhere and can fire like a porcupine. In truth, it's a mess. Something that would be worthy of being called "Junker quality".

Regardless, it did its job long enough for you to carry him to relative safety and for him to take his shots, bringing the numbers down enough for Soldier: 76 and Mercy to take the remainder down from behind. A beautiful, but unexpected, pincer.

Even you give a satisfied hum, hands together and head bowed much like one of those ass-kissers back at Shimada Castle.

And your words, "We did pretty nicely," cements that thought even further, and he snarls, yanking his head away from the view of the other two approaching to make his way back to the ship. With or without you.

He expects this to be the last time he'll ever have to get manhandled or carried to 'safety'.

So needless to say, Hanzo gets surprised again when you jump in front of him during another, more harrowing mission, the sound of pulse bullets smashing into your armor, but his recovery is quicker as his mind snaps the situation into clarity.

He fires off three arrows right at you. By some trick, they twist around your helmet. Each make their mark, to his glee, and the rocking explosion resulting from the damaged reactor would’ve knocked him to the ground if you did not position yourself in front of him.

Through the stream of smoke and dust, he can see the bodies of his fallen enemies, thrown to the ground like ragdolls.

Mission accomplished. The reactor is destroyed.

But his relief is short lived when you turn again. The entire backside of your armor has been burnt off, revealing the crackling technology beneath it. And his victory curdles into rage.

"Why did you do that!?"

It allowed him to take that shot, yes, but he could have dodged and found another opportunity that was not fraught with risks and potential bullet holes through anyone.

No, he's not grateful even if your timely appearance did end the mission quickly.

You merely shrug at him, press some buttons to regenerate the bullet bitten scales of your suit.

He refuses to thank you for it. Or say anything else for the matter.

The next time you cover him—serving as his decoy more like, you're shot in the head. The force of it takes off your helmet.

Parts of it shatters, crystalline shards of hard light fall around you, shimmering in light. If the situation were not so sure, he might have thought it beautiful.

But as it is, the illusion is broken. You tuck and roll out of harm's way just as a rain of shrapnel comes down on you. Hanzo's arrows manage to fell them, allowing you to make your way to him without losing your head.

A very small head.

The contrast between your bare face and the rest of you is almost humorous. You're so much smaller than your armor would imply. That's a given, of course. Reinhardt and Brigitte are much smaller outside of their suits, but both hold themselves proudly, their personalities matching and exceeding the size of the suits they both wear.

But you're...you. Neither so strong in will or personality that it makes up for the gap between your current size and the size that the armor portrays.

Hanzo has seen you meander through the halls, posture weak and hands together. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you some ghost from Overwatch past, tossed and lost in the stream of time.

But you're here, beside him, watching out with a deceptively lazy gaze. He can't tell what's in your head or why you even care enough to stick by him. Is it because he's a liability? Or because he's a killer and you're keeping tabs on him? Or could it be that you are just waiting to stab him in the back?

Hanzo dares another glance at you, still watching out over the distance, unaware or uncaring of his scrutiny. Empty. Your head must be empty.

"They're coming. Let's go," you say suddenly. Snapping his attention back to the horizon, he sees that their targets have indeed regrouped and are making their way towards you both. He huffs, annoyed he didn't notice first and makes his way down with you hovering at his back.

He's reluctant to say he's gotten used to you covering him. Hanzo barely reacts during another mission when an enemy appears at his back just as he lines up his perfect shot. He feels the ground vibrate, guns firing but never feels the impact, and the enemy hit the ground with a loud shout. Inelegant, but effective. He's not surprised when he turns around to see you behind him, your back to his like you trust him.

It is a dangerous thing: trusting someone with your back. One could never know if that trust would ever be misplaced. Or if that trust will make him weak. A lonely night with his inner musings and a bottle helps him make up his mind.

Nipping it in the bud, so to speak, he asks Winston to stop putting the two of you together on missions. To which he gets a very deadpan look that makes him just slightly regret asking.

"Agent Hanzo, if there is an issue, I'd like it to be taken care of between the both of you or have it brought up now so we can handle it. With as few agents as there are, we cannot afford to be infighting or choosey about partners."

"...I understand," he says through gritted teeth. Hanzo leaves with nothing done except making it clear to Winston he has an issue with you that he isn't even brave enough to confront you about himself.

It doesn't take him long to find you alone in the kitchen, slowly eating what seems to be a late lunch, the wrapper of some meal wrinkled on the table.

"Cease what you're doing."

You look up at him incredulously, a fry hovering precariously off your fork halfway to your mouth. "Eating?"

"No." He wonders if you're being obtuse on purpose or if this is just how you are. "No. I ask you stop covering me on the field. It interferes with my work."

Slowly, the fork comes further down onto your plate as you squints harder and harder at him, measuring his request. A prickle straightens his spine and he refuses to take back his words or feel remotely bad for telling you to stop doing your job.

You rub your face for a moment, the cheeriness and glow in your eyes wiped away, replaced by a look that Hanzo knows all too well: one that screams, ‘I need a drink’.

"You know I can't stop protecting you."

Unconsciously, his upper lip curls. "I never asked for your protection."

"Genji did."

Time stops.

It could have been a fraction of a second, a million years, he doesn't know. The words bounce in his brain, growing louder with each echo, the defeated tone twisting itself into mockery.

He’s a Shimada, not a coward. But the moment those two words left your mouth, he could not stop himself. In an instant, he has you by the collar, pressed against the wall. The clothes you wear becomes your noose as he curls his hands into them as if that'll be enough to silent you.

“What. Did you just say.”

Even now, you look upon him dispassionately. Even when you struggle to give a voice to your explanation, face red—nearly purple, your demeanor is not shaken. “Gen..ji, asked-d me. 'Pro...tect Hanz..o-o. No matt-matter what he’s done. He’s...still my br..other. I forgave...h—'”

You choke on your words when Hanzo slams you against the wall again. Twice, thrice, four times until he’s sure you’re not going to speak anymore of the accursed words he loathed to hear from anyone.

It’s a lie.

A lie.

An insult.

Genji is making fun of him again.

Touting that he’s better.

He was always more recognized.

Always had father’s attention.

Always fawned over by their peers.

Always watched by their elders.

And now he wants to flaunt it again.

That he’s survived death and he’s stronger and deems Hanzo so worthless that he requires protection.

Protection from what.

Hanzo was the one who received all the awards, the honors, the higher marks, killed the most, gotten the most targets, the envy of those who would consider themselves his peers, the right to inherit his father's position, the clan.

And yet—

Yet…

With an animalistic yell, he slams you against the wall once more, a resounding crack covered up by his voice before he just drops you and flees the room, desperate to drown the renewed flames of his fury in alcohol.

#My writing #back on my bullshit

24 notes · View notes

javajunkieao3 · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Be Seeing You: Chapter Six (A Post-Endgame Steggy Story)

I swear I have a life. I just did not have much of one today. I hope you enjoy this (final) update!

After Peggy came to his apartment, Steve decided that he needed to start taking action in his own life. He couldn’t travel back to his own time, but he also didn’t need to stay in New York and watch her marry another man. He decided to enlist in the army again and request a transfer to a base outside of New York. Naturally, he would need papers, and so he again went to the person who always helped when he was in a bind.

“You’re really leaving New York?” Howard asked, sitting with Steve in his office.

“She chose Malcolm. And, as much as I enjoy being here, I can’t stay and watch her be with someone else. I think it’s best if I leave.”

“I’m really sorry, Steve.”

He nodded, exhaling slowly. “It’s okay. She has every right to choose her future. Now it’s time for me to choose mine.”

Howard was oddly quiet, and after a moment he said, “If you’re serious about this, I’ve been working on something.”

“On what?”

“I jotted down some notes about those particles when you first got here. In my spare time, I’ve been doing some experiments, seeing if I could make anything similar. The first few tries were pretty much disasters, but a little while ago I hit on something.”

“You made more Pym particles?”

“Well, I sure as hell am not calling them that,” Howard said immediately, eliciting a sliver of a grin from his friend. “But, basically, yes.”

“Do they work?”

“I’ve only tried them over a few hours or days. Not years.”

“Do they work?” Steve repeated.

Howard paused, and then said, “Yes.”

Steve knew Howard did not want him to leave, but his friend agreed to do more trials, working toward farther time jumps to make sure the technology worked. After a few days, and some small tweaks, they had a functioning means of time travel.

Following the last trial, Steve placed his helmet on the table and said, “I’ll make the final trip tomorrow at noon.”

Howard nodded, holding one of the vials. “You know, if I weren’t so proud of these I’d smash them all on the ground.”

Steve laughed a bit and patted his arm. “Thank you, Howard. I know this isn’t easy.”

“I’ll have Jarvis pick you up tomorrow at 11:00,” Howard said. “Consider it my last grand gesture.”

“I will see you tomorrow, Howard.”

BBBBB

Unbeknownst to both Howard and Steve, Edwin Jarvis had been privy to their time travel experiments, and when Howard asked him to pick Steve up the next day at precisely 11:30, it took little guesswork to deduce the purpose of such a trip. Jarvis discussed with his wife whether it was his place to interfere, and Ana Jarvis, always the romantic, said, “If Captain Rogers means as much to her as you say, then you must tell her!”

“I’m sure Captain Rogers has spoken with her,” Jarvis said.

“Can you be so sure? If you were leaving me forever, could you face that final farewell?”

His wife had a point. He debated it all the way to the Brooklyn apartment and then all the way to Stark Industries, making polite conversation with a mostly quiet Captain Rogers. He watched the latter walk into Stark Industries, his eyes following him until he disappeared toward the bay of elevators. He would likely never see him again. Immediately, he made his way back toward the Brooklyn apartment.

BBBBB

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Howard asked. Steve had just stepped out of the bathroom in his time travel suit, and he looked down as he adjusted the sleeves.

“Because you have other options,” Howard said. “I can get you the papers for the army. Hell, I’ll make some calls myself. Get you stationed wherever you want.”

“This is what I want,” Steve said resolutely.

“Okay,” Howard relented. “I’ll respect your choice. Even if I think it’s a dumb one.”

Steve smirked. “Thank you, Howard.” He took a deep breath and walked over to his coat. He reached into the front pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Can you give this to Peggy after?”

Howard took the envelope and said, “I’m guessing this is your goodbye.”

Steve nodded. “I thought it would make things easier for everyone.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Steve looked away and asked, “So, where’s that whiskey you keep in here? We should have a drink before I leave.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said in here that makes sense,” Howard said. “I’ll grab it from my desk.”

BBBBB

Peggy was ironing some dresses – the absolute bane of her existence – when someone knocked on her door. She carefully placed the iron upright on the ironing board and answered the door, surprised to find Jarvis at her doorway.

“Jarvis?”

“I apologize for showing up unannounced,” the tall Englishman said. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all. I’m just doing some ironing. An onerous task if you ask me,” she said. “Come in, please.”

“I won’t be long,” he said, walking past her into the apartment. He took off his hat and held it by the brim with both hands. “I just thought that I should tell you that Captain Rogers is leaving today.”

“Leaving where?” she asked.

“He and Mr. Stark have been working on a time travel machine,” Jarvis said quickly. “And Captain Rogers is scheduled to return to his future in…” he looked down at his watch, “…precisely thirty minutes.”

“What?” Peggy bellowed.

“Yes, I had a feeling that you might not have been privy to that information,” Jarvis said, watching Peggy run toward the phone and aggressively dial a number.

“Yes, this is Peggy Carter I need you to connect me with Howard Stark. What? I don’t care that he said to hold his calls, tell him that it’s an emergency and – do not hang up on me. Do you hear me? Do not –“ Peggy pulled the phone away from her ear and slammed it down on the receiver.

“I have the car downstairs,” Jarvis said leadingly.

“Yes, let’s go.”

They began to walk out when Jarvis turned back suddenly and said, “Ms. Carter, your iron!”

“Shit, I’ll deal with that. Go, get the car started. I’ll meet you downstairs!”

Peggy quickly unplugged the iron and then turned to leave. She caught sight of her engagement ring on a small dish beside the sink. She had taken it off earlier when she was washing dishes. She left without it, knowing that her very actions in this moment were contrary to what it represented.

She quickly made her way down to the car and climbed into the passenger seat, urging Jarvis to drive faster as she put on her seat belt. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of never seeing Steve again. She just got him back, how could he leave already? Of course, she knew how he could. It was her. She was the designer of her current torment, but she could make this right. In the seconds between when Jarvis told her that Steve was leaving and she ran to the phone, a decision had been made. One that she should have made earlier.

“Can you go any faster?”

“I’m going as fast as I can, Ms. Carter,” he said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there in time.”

Peggy looked down at her watch, not feeling particularly optimistic. Thankfully, they encountered minimal traffic, and Jarvis dropped her off with some time, but not much.

“Good luck, Ms. Carter.”

She ran from the vehicle, impatiently waiting in line for the elevator, feeling her chance slip away with every passing moment. Finally, she got an elevator and took it up to Howard’s office, barreling past his secretary who scrambled up from her chair and said, “You can’t go in there!”

Peggy opened the door and ran in, exhaling with relief when she saw Steve standing in the center of the room, his back to her. However, he disappeared suddenly, the space where he was standing empty.

“Bring him back,” she said in a hoarse voice, rushing over to Howard and grasping his arm tightly. “You have to bring him back.”

“I can’t, Peg,” Howard said, looking down at her with a stricken expression. “That’s not how this works.”

“But-but he can’t be gone. Not again. Please, Howard.”

“I’m sorry, Peggy.”

“Then send me there,” she said suddenly. “Wherever he went, send me there.”

“What? Peggy, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” Peggy said firmly. “I’m the reason he left. He came here for me, and I – I mucked it up. Please, Howard. Help me make this right.”

“Is this really what you want?” Howard asked.

“Yes.”

“Here I was thinking I’d only lose one friend today,” he said unhappily. “I’ll need to build you a suit.”

“How long will that take?” she asked.

“A few days. Maybe a week.”

“Whatever it takes,” she said. She hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Howard.”

“You know, sometimes my mind is a curse.”

#steggy #steggy fanfiction #40s!steggy

20 notes · View notes