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floating-mid-air · 4 years

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The Princess of All Saiyans

Masterlist

Hey guys. I ended up taking a bit of a break from this fic, but I'm back now. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter yet. I've been getting a bit impatient as of recent. I just have so many ideas for this story that I can't use yet. I also just wanted to take a second to thank everyone for their support. I never expected anyone to actually read this story, so it means a lot. Anyways on to the chapter.

Chapter 8

Quite some time has passed since your initial imprisonment in this dim cavern. And yes, you're still stuck with the half-breed. Though Zarbon left some time ago. Leaving an alarming number of foot-soldiers behind, who now surround the ruins of what was once a Namekian village. You could effortlessly eliminate those vermin, but you're not willing to take the chance. Not with a Dragon Ball in your possession.

All you can hear are the grating voices of Frieza's men from outside the cave. They're somehow significantly more irritating than the kid. You didn't even think that was possible. So you do the only thing you could think of to block out the obnoxious murmuring. You decide to actually interact with the brat. "Your mother can't be thrilled about your excursion to Namek. Considering she's human and all." Would this be classified as small talk? Or is it too heavy of a topic? You've never been good with this sort of thing.

He looks at you, his eyes wide in disbelief. From the little interaction the two of you have had, Gohan never believed you would be the one to initiate conversation. "Actually, my mom died when I was little." Well, this turned out to be the worst topic you could've possibly chosen. You observe him carefully. He doesn't seem upset, so at least you won't have to deal with him crying. "Y/N. What's having a mom like?"

You're positive that Saiyan mother's behaviors differ from what would be considered normal on Earth. At least, you think, you don't have much experience with motherly figures yourself. "I couldn't tell you, kid. My mother died when I was an infant." Gohan's face falls. He might never know how an average parent should behave. "I'd ask Raditz, though. He can talk your ear off about your grandmother."

"Was she---you know---like you?"

You chuckle, tilting your head backward. "What? You mean evil? No, from what I've heard, she was one of those weak Saiyans. She lacked the basic instinct--- kinda like your moronic father."

A grin spreads across the brat's lips as his eyes meet yours. "You know, you're not so bad after all."

Your expression instantly hardens at his words. "This doesn't mean we're allies now." You direct your attention outside. Those underlings must have gotten careless. You can't even detect a singular soldier that stayed behind. "Come on, it's safe to go."

You push the boulder out of the way, finally exiting the cave. The brat follows, holding the camouflaged orb in hand. "Now, let's solve this little Dragon Ball issue." You cut yourself off, directing your gaze toward Vegeta's power level. He's currently mid-battle with who you believe is Zarbon. Looks like the green-haired narcissist was able to track down your brother after all. You're not worried. Vegeta seems to be inflicting most of the damage.

Something else piques your interest, though, the three other power sources near your brother. One of them is definitely Raditz. Another is unfamiliar to you. It's almost insect-like that must be the Earth woman. And lastly, you believe that bald earthling is there as well. He's much more powerful than he was when you saw him earlier today. How peculiar. "Well, looks like we're heading to the same place after all." You float up into the air. "You coming or not?" He nods, trailing behind you as you both travel to the location of the battle.

You and Gohan strategically maneuver yourselves behind a hill, your eyes intently focused on the battle. You can clearly see Zarbon and Vegeta, as well as Raditz. You move your gaze to the two earthlings, who are both quivering in fear. You can't help but wonder who they're more terrified of, whether it's Zarbon's hideous transformation or your brother.

You turn back to the half-breed, who's about to blow your cover. Before he can fly into the chaos to "save" his friends, you grab onto the back of his shirt. "You don't want to get yourself tangled up with Zarbon. There's no quicker way to get yourself and your friends killed. As long as Zarbon is focused on Vegeta, your friends will be fine." You maintain a tight grip on the purple fabric. You don't trust the brat one bit. "Did that Namekain teach you nothing about self-control?"

He looks up at you, furrowing his brows. "How did you know I trained with Piccolo?"

A breathy sigh escapes your lips. "Well, since Kakarot was dead, I figure someone competent must have trained you. Plus, you're wearing the same attire as that Namekian. It doesn't take a brainiac to figure it out." You switch your attention back to the battlefield, letting go of your grip on Gohan.

While Vegeta is distracted with Zarbon, you can feel energy rapidly approaching their vicinity. Your brother has his back turned, so it must be a sneak attack on him. Before whatever it is can even strike, you teleport in front of Vegeta, grasping onto the foot soldier's fist, freezing the creature in place. "Too slow." A devilish smirk appears on your features.

"Y/N. I was wondering when you'd finally make an appearance." It seems this transformation doesn't just affect Zarbon's characteristics, but it distorts his voice as well.

"Zarbon. I see you've let yourself go." Taking shots at his looks should be the best way to throw Zarbon off his game.

You let go of the orange alien, pushing him backward. His eyes narrow at you, clenching his right hand, checking for any lasting damage. "How dare you speak to Zarbon in such a manner! He's your superior in every way."

"Shh." You bring a finger up to your lips. "The grown-ups are talking." As fun as patronizing this insect is, you know this encounter will have to escalate sooner rather than later.

Vegeta turns to you, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. "I hope your intentions were not to involve yourself in my battle."

"I know better than to get involved when you're out for blood, Vegeta." You chuckle. "I'll make do with this half-wit. I just have to figure out a way to draw out the battle." You rub your chin, contemplating the best way to decrease your efficiency. "I got it." You wrap your dominant hand behind your back. "I'll fight this weakling one-handed."

"You cocky Saiyan, bitch." The creature snarls, stepping closer to you. "I don't think I've ever seen you fight one of your own battles. You know what I think. You're only feared because of Vegeta." Everyone around you grows silent, well except, for Raditz. His laughter echoes around the rocky terrain. The Saiyan finds this humorous, not because of the alien's words, but because he knows the orange creature has just taken his last breath.

Your aloof gaze remains locked on the ugly creature, your head slightly tilted. "You know what. I was being quite generous before." You move your other arm behind your back, clasping your hands together. "I don't even need one."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the half-breed, who has now joined his friends. He's jumping up and down as Krillin stares at him in bewilderment. "I'm excited. We're finally going to get to see her fight."

"Gohan." Krillin's timid voice invades your ears. "I think you're starting to act a bit too much like your dad."

It becomes clear to you that your opponent won't make the first move, so you'll have to take charge of the situation. You turn to Vegeta, who has Zarbon in a headlock. "If you don't mind Vegeta. I'd like to go first."

He nods, chuckling to himself. "Oh, be my guest. The floor is all yours."

You descend to the ground, centering yourself on the terrain. "Alright, let's get going. I don't have all day. So show me the best you got." The alien shoots toward you, swinging his fists blindly. He doesn't even seem to have a proper strategy. Is this really the best the Frieza Force has to offer? A being who lacks basic combat abilities.

You dodge every single potential blow, speeding back and forth at a slow pace. An earthling could even evade these strikes. This is pitiful. It's clear that whoever's responsible for training these buffoons has been cutting corners.

"Stop dodging!" The creature shrieks in pure frustration.

A wolfish grin appears on your face. It's fitting you're the predator while he's the prey. "Well, if you insist." At light speed, you swing your leg upwards, kicking his chin. Blood rushes from the corners of his lips as the orange creature spits out multiple stray teeth. You continue your merciless assault, alternating between striking his face and torso. "Don't be mistaken. I don't fight because a woman of my status doesn't have to handle such demeaning tasks, like exterminating pathetic life forms. Beings similar to yourself, but don't get me wrong. I'm more than happy to make an example out of you."

You fling up into the air. Your boot effortlessly connects with his face. Sending the alien hurdling backward. As soon as he regains balance, you teleport behind him. You may not be able to use your hands to form a blast, but you think you'll be able to direct the energy to your lower body. "I like to call this the Dust Charge." Heavy winds form around the battlefield, dragging dirt particles into the air supply, causing numerous dust clouds to emerge. The Dust Charge is not an attack perse. It's more of a red herring, a simple distraction tactic for your actual move.

"What's this supposed to do?" He chuckles mockingly. "Take my eyes out?" You don't understand why everyone always underestimates you. It's frustrating to not be taken seriously by your opponent. Especially when you outrank them in all aspects of life.

You've navigated yourself into one of the many dust clouds. This should be effective in concealing your next move. You focus all of your energy on your lower body, causing a pink orb to appear right before your eyes. It lays motionless on the ground, almost resembling a soccer ball. It takes a few moments, but the pink ball of energy finally begins to swell. Now the orb compares in size to your pod.

Over the years, you've trained your eyesight to be unaffected by distraction tactics. So you can simply pinpoint the location of the alien. Once you do, you kick the orb in his direction. As soon as the creature absorbs the sphere, the dust clouds clear. Revealing your victory to the audience. You watch him crumble to the ground, screaming in agony. There is no visible damage to his body. Your nameless move is more of an internal attack. These sorts of attacks are much more sadistic in nature. Since they target your internal organs, resulting in complete organ failure.

You stride over to him, placing your boot on his head. Your aloof nature returns as you stomp on his head, crushing his skull. "Time to take out the trash." You unhook your hands, pointing them toward the limp body. You create a blast, vaporizing the corpse, successfully eliminating all remnants of the alien's existence.

"Alright. You've had your fun. Now it's time for the main event." There's no need to anger Vegeta. So you decide to comply. You fly over to the sidelines, landing next to Raditz.

The Earth woman turns to you, her eyes wide in terror. "Y- You squashed him."

You turn to meet her gaze. "That is how you kill insects, isn't it?"

"He was so weak. You didn't have to kill him!" Krillin interjects himself into your conversation.

"What the hell is wrong with your species?" You bring your hands to your temples, massaging them gently. "Let me put this in simple terms. If I let him live, he would've killed you, pathetic earthlings. Is that what you would've preferred? Because I can finish the job if you'd like."

The pair rapidly shakes their heads. "No. No. we're all good." Their voices shake, speaking simultaneously. Finally, you're getting the recognition you deserve. At least the earthlings take you seriously. That's better than nothing.

Raditz chuckles, shaking his head. "He challenged her pride. That's a death sentence itself." You don't think they have the brain capacity to understand the nature of a Saiyan. Being allies with the defect probably doesn't help either.

You look up at Raditz. "Is this what you've been dealing with?"

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh, you have no idea."

You turn back to the fight, and it isn't that interesting. It's basically just Vegeta manhandling Zarbon. Your brother must have grown significantly stronger after getting the crap beat out of him so many times.

You suppress your laughter when Zarbon begs your brother for mercy. You're pretty sure that word no longer exists in Vegeta's vocabulary. Zarbon is one of the last beings in the entire universe, who your brother would even grant an inkling of sympathy. Similar to the other members of the Frieza Force, Zarbon offers to turn against his lord. It's apparent that none of Frieza's men are truly loyal to him. Bargaining with treason in return for you to spare their lives. Cui, Dedoria, and now Zarbon have all exhibited this same cowardly behavior. This is one of the many areas where you differ from those cowards. You'd never turn against Vegeta, even if it costs you your life.

Vegeta goes off on a tangent. The years of verbal abuse must have gotten to him too. "You want mercy? Oh, I'll show you mercy, all right." It's become transparent that Vegeta is going to show that narcissist the exact opposite of mercy. With a singular blast, your brother kills him. You watch Zarbon's corpse fling into the air, landing into the lake.

"Y-You call that mercy?" Krillin stutters. Well, apparently, your brother's intentions were not clear, to the earthlings after all. They really need to study the significance of tone.

"I'm disappointed." You huff. "I was expecting a bigger bang. Frankly, I would've been much crueler than that, Vegeta." You slowly stride over to Krillin. His comment from before did not sit well with you. So you intend to show him just how ruthless you can be. He also scares easily, so that's a bonus. He gulps nervously. As you tilt your head to become eye level with the human. "Firstly, I'd mutilate his face to destroy his vanity. Then I'd rip out his eyeballs and feed them to him. And then I'd kill Zarbon."

Vegeta chuckles. He knows how much you like intimidation. "Well, you have a much more sadistic imagination than I do, Y/N." He turns to Raditz, who's holding the one-star ball. "Now, a deal's a deal. Hand over your Dragon Ball." Clever, sparing their worthless lives for a possession of value. You wouldn't expect anything less from Vegeta.

Raditz looks from the humans to the half-breed. Before he can even calculate a plan, you sweep his legs out from under him. This successfully knocks the giant off balance, allowing you to catch the one-star orb. "Pleasure doing business with you."

You toss the ball to Vegeta. He looks down at the orb, smirking. "Now that we have all seven, immortality will be ours." You know for a fact that you only possess six Dragon Balls. Gohan has the four-star ball, and you don't care to let Vegeta know. Immortality isn't your desire. You want to die one day, at least hell, has your kind. An eternal life sounds more like a punishment than anything else.

Vegeta takes off first, and you shortly after him. It takes a while, but the two of you finally land in the ruins of that Namekian village. You're getting sick of constantly having to return to this horrid place. This better be the last time.

"So you didn't retrieve the Dragon Ball like I asked?"

"I couldn't find it." You flash him the best innocent smile that you can manage.

"Clearly, you didn't search hard enough." He sighs, running a hand through his spiky hair. "You know what they say. If you want something done right, you do it yourself." And with that, he jumps into the lake.

He's going to be furious when he figures out the Dragon Ball is gone. Vegeta hasn't wanted anything this much in a long time. This is where the two of you differ. As long as Frieza doesn't have the orbs, you're content. You don't care if the earthlings get them. And you care even less about what they desire to wish for. If they want to bring their loser friends back, so be it. You'll just have to kill them again. It shouldn't be difficult at all.

The splashes on the surface of the water become more erratic. Vegeta must be growing frustrated. He springs up from the water, shooting into the air. "That damn brat!" He takes off in the direction of the earthling's hideout. Looks like Vegeta figured out the truth all on his own, only you're not entirely sure how.

You chase after him, heading to the cave. But it's too late. They're already long gone. Vegeta murmurs various curse words under his breath, desperately trying to keep his temper in check. "Well, new plan. Y/N, you're going to babysit the Dragon Balls. While I have a play date to get to." He shoots back up into the air. "No one makes a mockery of me and gets to live to tell about it!"

"Wait! Vegeta!" You shout. "I don't know where you put them."

"That sounds like a you problem, little sister!" Vegeta takes off, escaping your view.

He's such an asshole. "This is going to take forever." You wine before taking off in your own pursuit. Only you're searching for several inanimate objects that lack a power level. If you wanna find those Dragon Balls, you'll have to think like Vegeta. So if you were Vegeta, you'd want to leave them somewhere secure, but where he'd be able to remember their location. With the land formations on Namek, the only place that makes sense is a cave system.

It was a shot in the dark, one that eventually paid off. You finally found those damn orbs. You sit down on one of the Dragon Balls. These orbs are much larger than the set on Earth. You sigh, placing your hands on the sides of your face. The reality of your situation has just set in. You could've very well run into Freiza, and that would've been game over for you. You could've died. You'll get back at Vegeta. Maybe you'll scare him half to death, make him think you did, in fact, die. The look on his face would be priceless.

Now you're bored. At times like this, you miss having Raditz to banter with or even having Nappa to mock. You have been wondering something for a while. Frieza must be running low on henchmen by now. Dodoria and Zarbon are dead, and you and Vegeta have taken out a fair share of his soldiers. You're also sure the earthlings have taken out a couple of those imbeciles as well. So isn't this about the time where Frieza will call for enforcements if he hasn't already?

You can sense a mass cluster of energy approaching Namek. The Ginyu Force, that's the only possible explanation. How didn't you come to this conclusion sooner? This is bad. This is really bad. From a glance, they appear to be a bunch of idiots, but they are far from that. Well, for the most part. Recoome may have suffered from some sort of brain damage.

This situation is far from ideal. You're all alone on Namek, and now the Ginyu force is running loose. Hopefully, they'll split up. If you encounter Jace, you'll probably be able to sweet-talk your way out, but if it's any of the other four, you're screwed.

You stop mid-panic. The perfect opportunity has just arisen. One that will make Vegeta eat his words, the perfect vengeance plan. He's probably going mad now. Filled with regret for leaving you alone now that the Ginyu Force is here. Oh, this will be good. You fly up, making a little burrow in a nearby hill. Hiding in the structure. This will give that dimwit brother of yours a good scare.

Meanwhile, with Bulma and Raditz:

Krillin and Gohan left a while ago, leaving the explosive pair alone in the ravine. This was poor thinking on Krillin's part. Raditz and Bulma had managed to avoid interaction while Bulma spruced up the hideout, making it more comfortable according to Earth standards. Instead of sitting at the table with Bulma, the Saiyan has placed himself on the stone floor with the Dragon Ball placed strategically beside him.

Bulma lets out an exaggerated sigh. It's taken all of Raiditz's energy not to kill that woman. He's honestly surprised with the extent of his own self-control. "I still can't believe Gohan and Krillin. They left me all alone. On an alien planet. With you." Is this how all Earth women behave? Do they just whine and complain all day? Raditz hopes that isn't the case. Maybe Bulma is just an irregularity.

Raditz shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Do you ever stop complaining?"

"I'm a delicate flower Raditz. While you're a disgusting pig. I have the right to complain." Raditz snickers. If anyone's a disgusting pig, it's Bulma. She has the worst cleanliness he's ever seen. She never picks up after herself and then displaces her mess on others. She wouldn't last a day with Vegeta. One look at her uncleanly living quarters would cause the prince to throw a fit.

"A delicate flower that wanted to bang Zarbon."

"How was I supposed to know he'd turn all hideous? He was cute before."

Raditz cringes. Zarbon was a repulsive creature, no matter what form he possessed. "You must really love that boyfriend of yours, huh?" Yamcha may be dead, but from what Raditz has gathered, they're planning on reviving him. Unless do earthlings not mate for life as Saiyans do? That's a possibility Raditz hasn't considered yet.

Bulma's expression sours, her eyes narrowing at the taller man. "Yamcha was a stupid jerk who got himself killed." She crosses her arms. "I'm still mad at him."

Raditz furrows his brows, his mouth hung agape. "You know what. Remember how I said we did you a favor after we killed Yamcha. I've changed my mind now."

"Wow. Have you finally come to your senses?"

Raditz nods, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. "Oh, yes. Rather than you, I think we did Yamcha a massive favor."

Bulma proceeds to chew him out, which of course, the Saiyan ignores, rolling his eyes at the woman. Raditz holds up the orb, staring at it intently. If he were to bludgeon the Earth woman with this. How angry would the others be? It's a tough call for the Saiyan.

"Are you even listening to me?" Bulma shrieks as Raditz bangs his head against the rock. She's about to shout at him again, but three figures land in the ravine. Two of the creatures are Gohan and Krillin, while the third is unfamiliar.

Raditz stands up, looking up at the third silhouette. "Vegeta? What the hell are you doing here?"

"We need that Dragon Ball." Raditz picks up on Krillin's use of we. What could possibly be so dire to cause them to work together? Maybe hell has frozen over. Because that's the only explanation that Raditz could fathom.

"For what?"

"We don't have time for this, you imbecile!" Vegeta huffs. "The Ginyu Force is here!"

The larger Saiyan's eyes widen as he rabidly looks around. "Where's Y/N?"

"I left---" Vegeta's face drops, a twinkle of panic in his eyes. That's something Raditz has never seen from him in over twenty years. "God damn it!" Vegeta takes off, Raditz following him in pursuit.

Krillin sighs, picking up the Dragon Ball. "Thanks, Bulma. Let's go, Gohan." Gohan nods before they both take off.

"Hey! Wait!" Bulma shouts. "You guys can't just leave me here! Again!"

What is Y/N's true fate? Will Vegeta and the others find her in time? Or will it be too late? And where the hell is Goku? All will be revealed in the next chapter of The Princess of all Saiyans!

#goku #goku x reader #saiyan reader #vegeta #vegeta's sister #dbz fanfiction #dbz x reader #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball z #son goku x reader

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years

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Down the Rabbit Hole part 2

At first I don't know what woke me, but then I feel a buzzing somewhere on the bed and I grope around blindly for the phone until I find it and bring it to my ear. "Hello?" I say, feeling horribly groggy.

"Hi, Roan, honey."

"Dad?" I ask, sitting up straighter. I squint at the clock on the bedside table. It's not actually as late as I thought it was, only one in the morning. I yawn and crack my jaw accidentally. "Ouch."

"Are you okay? Is this a bad time?"

"No, no, I'm fine. What's up? Isn't it late there?"

"It's only two in the morning. Your mother and I just got finished watching a season of West Wing and I thought I'd call you, see how you're doing."

"West Wing is still going?"

"No, no, it's just the latest show we're watching. We just got through with season three. How are you, honey?"

"I'm good."

There's a brief pause.

"Yeah, you're good? I'm glad, I'm glad to hear that. We, ah, we think about you pretty often."

"Yeah, I think about you guys too. How's mom doing?"

"She's good, she's good. She got through with that last operation and, you know, she was really out of it for, ah, for a couple of weeks, but she's all rested up now and she's – she's doing a lot better."

"That's great, I'm glad."

I get up, slip on some sandals, and push the door open, making sure I've tucked the room key into my pocket, and let the night air swallow me up. I lean on the second-floor railing just outside my room and look up and down the row of rooms; ordinarily you'd expect to see at least one or two chain-smoking Latinos out there burning the midnight oil, at least judging by my experiences with similar motels in the past, but it's completely deserted, just like the rest of Gumption.

"What are you up to these days? Are you still working for that paper down in Corpus Christi?"

"Yeah, the Star-Tribune."

"How's that going?"

"It's good."

"Yeah? That's good, that's good."

Another silence passes. I close my eyes. "How about you?" I ask. "How's everything at the shop?”

"Oh, it's fine. I guess it’s car crash season, now that it’s summer. We’ve been very busy. I just wish it wasn’t so hot."

"You and everybody else."

"Right," he laughs. "So yeah, that's alright. It’s good money, at least, we’re bringing it in hand over fist. And then in a couple of months your mother and I are going to go visit Alan and Margaret in Louisville like we always do.”

"I keep asking you to get me one of those little bats and you never do."

"Well, I have five of them sitting in my closet back home, if you'd come and visit once in a while."

This conversation, as it usually does, is steering in a direction I don't much like. "Well," I say briskly, "I'm glad mom's doing okay. And you seem to be doing alright as well."

"I wish you'd call more."

"Well, you know, I'm busy."

"Too busy to call your parents?" he asks, and I roll my eyes.

"Well, you know," I start, but he sighs heavily.

"Forget it," he says. "I just wish you'd talk to us more."

I think, not for the first time, of the letter laying on the floor of my apartment, five hundred or so miles away. I lick my lips and try to ignore the cold drip of apprehension at the pit of my stomach. "Dad, I –" I start, and then I trail off.

There, below me and just barely out of reach of the tall streetlights, someone is walking purposefully into the desert, headed straight for the far-off smudge on the horizon that marks the Mystery Flesh Pit.

"Roan, I think we lost connection. Roan? Can you hear me?"

I hang up the call. I spend only a moment thinking before I hustle down the stairs and, quickly thumbing the phone to silent, head into the desert as well, my eyes glued to the bobbing pinprick of a flashlight there in the desert ahead of me.

I made the decision before I had a chance to rationalize it and talk myself out of it. I have my phone, I guess, so I'll be able to record audio, but the camera is still in my room, as is my good voice recorder. Keeping an eye on the light ahead of me I sneak the top of my phone out of my pocket and look at the battery; somewhere close to sixty percent, and I know the voice-recording app that I use eats the hell out of the battery, so I probably won't get more than thirty minutes of audio out of it.

I'm not dressed properly at all and while it isn't unbearably cold I know it's going to get to me after a while. I kick myself inwardly but I'm already about a half-mile out of town, and maybe a half-mile behind the guy, so there's no point to me turning back now. I stamp down the rising head of fear in my stomach – what if I step on a scorpion and it stings me? What if I run into that homeless guy from the drainage ditch and he rapes me?

That last one, at least, I think, would have its own form of justice to it.

Whoever this guy is, he isn't making any effort to hide his movements. Although it isn't quite sandy enough for me to be able to just follow his tracks, he isn't getting down to prevent himself from silhouetting starkly against the starry backdrop of the West Texas hills, and he isn't, as best as I can tell, checking to see if he's being followed. At least, the flashlight he's holding never swings around to point towards me, although I think I'm far enough away from him that he wouldn't be able to see me even if he did look back.

The walk turns into a trudge. It's a long way to the Mystery Flesh Pit; not an impossible walk, but long. I keep losing my footing and tripping over myself and more and more this seems to be becoming a bad idea. How am I going to find my way back? I turn and look behind me, hoping to see Gumption in the distance, but if it's visible it's behind one of the slumping hills we crossed about twenty minutes ago. I want to rest but clearly this guy isn't quite as tired as I am, despite it being...two in the morning already. Christ.

At least I have all day to try and track down the librarian's brother. I'll be able to sleep in, maybe take a bubble bath...assuming I make it back to the hotel safely.

Ahead of me the guy clicks off his light and I freeze; for a moment I think he's spotted me but once I squint I can make out that he's still moving ahead, just without the light now. Before I can wonder why that is, exactly, I realize that ahead of both of us, partially masked by the nearest hill, there's another, brighter light. I drop to my stomach as it turns and points in my direction, and I see the man I've been following hold up a hesitant hand in greeting.

I pull myself forward and up onto a sort of berm and see a small gathering of people, five in total, all centered around one man, holding a much more powerful flashlight than the man I'd been following had, one of those low-slung heavy-duty jobs. I squint harder, trying to will my eyes to work like binoculars.

The guy in the middle is talking, looking between the four others. From this angle their faces are shrouded in darkness, I can't make them out at all, but there's something familiar the one in the middle. I wonder if I've seen him in town somewhere, if I've walked past him on the street...

Oh. Of course.

The face I'm staring at clicks into place and I realize that the man in the center of the circle, looking around at the others seriously, like a leader, is the hobo I saw hiding in the drainage ditch on the way back from the Mystery Flesh Pit.

They're moving now, the light clicked off, all of them ducked down into a low crouch, the man who I'd thought was a hobo leading the way. I can't tell which of them is the man I'd followed now, they distance and the darkness has made them all too uniform for such distinctions.

We crest two hills like this, them leading, cautiously, stopping when the man in front raises his hand and going when he puts it back down again, myself trailing along behind, half-bent and cautious, before we slip over a third hill and I flatten down again, for there, ahead of us, is the tall, electrified fence surrounding the remains of the Mystery Flesh Pit.

There are fewer lights than I would have expected. They're dotted every hundred yards or so, tall imposing fixtures that provide wells of pallid, fluorescent light but leave great blistering swaths of darkness between. There's no trail or road alongside the outside of the fence, but I think I can make out one on the inside, wide enough for two cars abreast, perhaps. It seems utterly deserted. I wonder if I ought to have covered my face, to try and baffle any cameras there might be, but the group ahead of me doesn't seem to be concerned about that, so I put the thought aside.

We've come at the fence at an oblique angle, far away from the main gate, which I can just barely see in the distance, well-lit and secure-looking.

Between the moonlight and the lamps I should be able to tell what the group does from this hill. I sit down, dangle my legs over the side before drawing them in beneath me Indian-style; it's too cold for anything else. At least I have the sweater that I'd slipped on before taking that phone call from my dad outside, but my bare legs are freezing.

The group ahead of me hustles over to the fence, to a small boulder nearly resting against it, and the man in the lead sets the unlit black box of the flashlight down on the ground and rolls up his sleeves and then picks up the boulder and sets it aside. I blink at that but then I realize as it falls over and he reaches down to steady it that it's hollow, like one of those fake boulders they sell at Home Depot to put over utility meters and pipes and stuff in your lawn. Beneath it is...

I again feel that same prickly feeling working its way up my spine. I can feel my mouth drop open loosely.

Beneath it is a dark, yawning mouth of a tunnel, large enough, perhaps, for an average-sized man if he were to drop on his belly and crawl through it. The leader of the group turns to the others and gestures, saying something to them. He seems to be describing a long, crescent arc, and then he points downwards, and the others nods. He pats one of them on the back and stands up, away from the tunnel, and then, one after the other, the rest of them crawl through. When the last one is through, he puts the rock back, picks up the flashlight, and hurries away from the fence, heading straight towards me.

"Damn," I growl under my breath, looking around for a place to hide. There's a bush off to the left that might conceal me if I get behind it quick enough...

I scurry backwards as quickly as I dare while he walks towards the incline of the hill, still looking off towards the main gates, and then once I've put the lip of the hill between him and me, I roll onto my hands and knees and clamber behind the bush. Fifteen seconds later, as well as roughly thirty of my rushing heartbeats, I’m still waiting. I look around quickly, wondering if he changed his course, but I see nothing, the bare rocky hill face is utterly bare. I creep forward a little, as quickly as I dare, trying to look over the edge, but I can’t reach it without getting out from behind the bush entirely.

“God dammit,” I mutter, glancing around nervously. My heart is throbbing heavily in my chest but I try to will myself to calmness. He just - went another way. It only looked as though he were heading straight for me, that’s all. He went a different way, changed his mind, went to go get something. There’s nothing that -

From very close behind me I hear a small mechanical click that I immediately recognize as the cocking back of the hammer of a handgun. Everything goes very still and silent and I raise my hands slowly, not daring to look behind me.

“Get up,” a harsh male voice says. A flashlight clicks on and throws my shadow far out in front of me. I can feel my hands trembling; my jaw shakes as though I were frostbitten. I feel like I might throw up.

I slowly get to my feet. “P-please don’t -“ I start, but the man cuts me off.

“Hands clasped on the back of your head.”

I link my fingers together and do as he says. “I don’t have any money,” I tell him.

“This isn’t a robbery,” he says, and the stab of fear I feel twists, somewhere deep down inside of me.

“If y-you touch me, I’ll -“

“Shut up,” he tells me. “Start walking. That way.”

I glance back to see where he’s pointing and after a moment of hesitation, seeing no way out of it, I put one shaky foot in front of the other and walk.

* * *

After about fifteen minutes or so he tells me to stop. I’m still shivering, both from the cold and from the fear. We are very, very far out in the desert now; if he were to shoot me out here, probably I’d never be found.

“Turn around,” he orders. I do so, squinting against the glare of the flashlight. There is a long, long silence and then he sets it down at his feet. He’s holding the gun low at his hip. His finger is outside the trigger guard, I notice.

“I don’t have any money,” I tell him again.

“And I told you this isn’t a robbery,” he says. “Who sent you?”

“Who sent me?” I ask. The question doesn’t make any sense to me.

“Yes. Who was it, FBI? NPS? The Company itself?” I can see his dark eyes shift as he looks me up and down. “I must say, whoever it is, they pick some very underwhelming field agents.”

“Field agents?” I blurt. “You’ve got the wrong idea -“

“Look,” he growls, “there’s no point denying it. There’s no other reason for you to be following me out here. So let’s just cut to the chase. You know who I am. Who sent you?”

“I - I really have no idea at all who you are,” I tell him. I look at him very seriously, willing him to believe me, and I think I seem him falter a little.

“What are you doing out here, then?” he asks.

I open my mouth, then close it again. I shake my head. “It’s a long story.”

“Tell it.”

“I’m a reporter,” I tell him. “I found out about the Pit a few days ago and I decided to come down and see it. Stayed in Lubbock for a little bit, got some tips, some people to talk to, that kind of thing. Earlier today, I drove out here, took some pictures of the fence. Then this evening, I saw someone walking out into the desert beelining for the Pit, and I decided to follow him. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he asks.

“Swear. I’m not - I don’t know who you thought I was, but I’m not here for you. I’m looking for some guy named Peter,” I laugh. “Apparently he works at the 7/11 in town, he used to be a ranger, he was there on the Fourth when the - when the disaster happened. I ran into his sister at the library in Lubbock, she tipped me off. Wanted to ask him some questions about it, maybe do an interview.”

The man is looking at me very strangely indeed. I shake my head. “I know it sounds crazy,” I say, “but that’s all I have to go off.”

“You’re looking for a man named Peter?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Who works at the 7/11?”

“Yes.”

“Because you want to…interview him about the 2007 disaster?”

“Yes,” I say. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He stares at me for a while longer and then shrugs. “Well,” he says, tucking the gun back into his waistband, “you found me.”

* * *

"So how long did you know I was following you?" I ask. I take another puff of the cigarette and hold it, then let it out. He shrugs.

"I noticed one of my...guests had a tail, but I paid attention to you and you didn't act like a cop."

"I'm not a cop."

"I know."

He has a low, gravelly voice, but it has a mellowness to it that doesn't make it quite so unpleasant to listen to. He glances over at me every now and then but for the most part keeps his eyes glued to the fence, to the buildings beyond, to the vast expanse of desert within the fence beyond the buildings. He looks over at me. He has very dark eyes and a rough, coarse beard. He hasn’t yet apologized for pulling a gun on me but with the gun away I can feel myself relaxing a little, like this is a perfectly normal conversation and surroundings and time.

Peter takes a long drag on his cigarette and then examines it. His eyes cut over at me.

“Corpus Christi is a long way away,” he remarks.

“Not a very long plane ride,” I point out.

"Even so,” he nods. “Long way to go on a whim."

"I –" I start, and then stop, shrug at him again. "It didn't feel like it was real," I say, going through it slowly in my head. I need to make sure I have my story straight. "I had never, ever heard of this place before, and I grew up here. Not here here but in Texas. I thought it was a hoax or something but the more research I did the more I couldn't deny that there was something here."

"So you flew all the way out here to look at the fence and then go back?"

I look at him, wondering if he's getting at something. "I guess," I say after a moment. "I was thinking that maybe there'd be something here I could do a story on but it seems like all of this is ancient history now."

He laughs. "For some people it is. For others it isn't."

I look at him. "Why are you smuggling people inside the fence?"

He's silent for a moment. When he answers me it's with a question. "When you were doing all your research," he asks, "did you come across a recording of the news that day?"

"Yeah," I say, remembering it. "It was CNN, I think."

"What did you see?"

"Well...I saw a pit, full of blood, and all of the emergency vehicles, and –"

"Was it daytime?"

"Uh. Yeah, it was. Why?"

He looks at me significantly. "The disaster happened a little after midnight on the Fourth. That video was taken the next day, on the fifth."

I frown. "Wait..."

"That's right, work it out."

"Why wasn't there video of it that night?"

"Oh, there was. But it was never broadcast. Same as all the photographs journalists took that night, those were never published."

"What? Why?"

"Because of two things – first, the disaster was horribly mismanaged, and a lot of people died or got hurt who didn't need to, and secondly, because of something that happened later on, after everything was calming down."

"Which was?"

He licks his lips and looks at me. "You could just drop this and let it go. You weren't there, you don't have any connection to this place," he says, gesturing behind himself in the direction of the fence. "Least I don't figure you do."

"You're right, I don't."

"So why? Why bother?"

"I just found it fascinating. I wanted to learn more about it the moment I heard of it." I briefly relate the story of being stuck in the traffic jam and what lead me to make my way down to Gumption, and he shakes his head.

"I'll only tell you this once," he says. "You'd better get out of here."

"Is that a threat?"

"Not from me. But if you stick around you aren't going to like what you find."

I take a deep breath, let it out. I feel very calm, like a still lake is inside of me, untroubled by ripples. "Tell me what happened on the night of the disaster."

He shrugs. "About forty people who'd been injured and put in a field hospital right on the edge of the pit, after everything had died down, got up and walked to the Pit, got down to the orifice, and threw themselves in."

"What?"

"Just what I said. I don't suppose you found that fact in any of the research you did, huh?"

"No," I shake my head. "No, I didn't. But why, why did they –"

"I was there," he says softly. "I was in one of those field hospitals and I watched the woman in the bed next to mine get up, even though she had an acid burn all down her leg that would have made it impossible to stand without excruciating pain, and walk out the hospital. I couldn't move, they had me in a cast rigged up to the bedframe, I'd broken my leg getting out of the Pit."

"Did she say anything?"

"Didn't say a damn thing, didn't even look at me. She was walking like she was in a dream."

"Why did she do it? Do you know?"

"She felt it calling to her."

"Is that what that sign's about, over there by the gate?" I ask. He nods.

"Yeah. Used to be a lot of people would wander up, try and get in. That's why it's an electric fence now."

"How widespread is this?"

"Depends on how you look at it. Not very many people know about it. They took it off of the incident report that was released to the public, none of the newspapers or websites mention it. They’ve done a very good job of burying it."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Cause people would get scared," I mutter, more to myself than to him. "We like to think that we're special, that we aren't animals, but something that can manipulate our minds..."

"Exactly. So they just get rid of it, hope that nobody ever finds out about it."

"But if this many people go missing –"

"I don't think it affects everybody in the same way, or at all. The more sensitive you are, the more emotional, creative, and intelligent you are, the harder it hits you. But it might just be an obsession for a few months before it fades, or it might turn into a pathology, and those are the people who either can't take it any more and kill themselves, or they make their way here."

"And you let them inside the fence."

"Yeah."

"What happens to them, in there?" I ask, jerking my chin towards the Pit. He shrugs.

"One of two things. Either the guards catch them, in which case I don't know what happens to them, or they make it to the Pit."

"And?"

"And if they make it to the Pit, they either chicken out, if it isn't such a severe case that they literally can't any more, or they throw themselves in."

"And you help them do this?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because if it's at that point, either way it'll be a mercy to them."

"What? How do you know?"

Peter chews on his moustache for a moment. I study him carefully. He looks…kind. It’s not what I had expected.

"I used to be one of them."

"What?" I say again. "I can't believe this story you're telling me, it's macabre."

"It's the truth. You're writing a story on this? Gonna put it in the paper?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "I thought I might but the more I learn the more I think I won't."

"Good," he nods. "They'll get you if you do. Bad idea."

"They?"

"You know. They. Capital T."

"The Powers that Be."

"Sure."

"So you help people kill themselves?" I ask. He doesn't look so threatening, now that I've been talking to him for fifteen minutes or so, but he's still a man and I'm a woman, he's still stronger than me just intrinsically, even without the gun. Stupid, stupid Roan, not taking any sort of weapon with her...not that I have one to begin with.

"It's more complicated than that."

"So it's about money?"

"Hell no. I don't take a dime from 'em."

"So tell me."

"This is your last chance to get out. You can go home, you aren't tangled in this yet."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He smiles then, and I smile back, I can't help it. There's a grinding sound, over beyond the fence, and we both look over; a Humvee is driving past, floodlight swinging back and forth along the fence. He nods. "That's the patrol. That means at least one of them made it to the Pit."

"They don't have regular patrols?"

"If you only knew what budget cuts have done to that place. See that fence? Ten thousand volts? They don't even power it any more. Too expensive. They leave all the signs up to try and dissuade people but it never works. All those cameras? Most of 'em are broken, or fake, I can't tell which. Too expensive. They're running on fumes in there. There's no research any more, no search for a permanent solution, they just keep the plant running to keep the thing asleep and keep taking the ballast out."

"Ballast?" I blurt. “They’re still taking it out?”

“Of course,” he says, giving me a look. “Not like they’re going to stop making a buck off the thing if they can help it.”

“I read online that they’d stopped taking it out,” I mutter. “Where does it go?” I ask. “If they’re taking it out.”

He shrugs. “I can’t say for certain. I think probably it goes to the highest bidder. And to my understanding, those bids can get very high.”

“Okay, but -“

Peter shakes his head. "It ain't safe out here. We'll talk tomorrow, alright?"

I nod. "Okay. How will I - ?"

"Come by the 7/11, it's dead all night, guarantee it. We can talk about whatever you want. Just…be careful."

“Of what?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Just - be careful. Don’t let anybody else know why you’re here. That’s all.”

“What do you mean - ?“

“Not now,” he says, then he gets up, starts to walk back towards town. "Come on," he says, turning back around when I don't move. "It isn't safe out here this late," he repeats. "I'll guide you back to town."

We walk in silence for a long while. I shiver to myself quietly, staring at Peter’s broad back. “You know, I didn’t think this little adventure would go like it did,” I mention. Peter lets out a little snort.

“How did you think it’d go?”

“Um. I guess I didn’t think much about it at all.”

“You ought to be more careful,” he tells me, glancing back at me. “I mean, following a stranger out into the desert is a pretty bad idea, no matter how you look at it.”

I swallow hard, try and give him a flippant shrug. I think I don’t make my eyes as insouciant as I’d like; I can see his gaze flicker up to mine for a moment before he turns back around and keeps walking. “Good way for someone to hold you up with a gun,” I suggest, and he laughs.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought that you must have been on to me, I figured you were from the National Parks Service or the FBI or something.”

“Would you have killed me if I was?” I ask, eyeing him. He stops.

“I’m not a killer,” he says.

“What would you have done, then? If I was?”

“I don’t know,” he admits after a moment. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

I just shake my head and keep walking. Peter follows me after a moment.

“Did my sister say anything?” he asks after a while. “When you met her in the library, I mean. I know it must have been her you talked to, nobody else would have known to send you to look for me.”

I think about it for a moment. "She's sorry," I tell him.

"She told you to tell me that?"

"More or less."

"More or less?"

"Well, she told me that if I mentioned she'd sent me looking for you you probably wouldn't tell me anything."

He laughs at that, long and mirthless. "Yeah, that's my sister," he says. "Come on."

The walk back to town is long and cold and surprisingly scary, considering that about halfway through we heard what we both thought was a cougar (mountain lion, catamount, puma, painter, shadow cat, panther...) off in the distance and we both froze. I felt myself huddling closer to Peter, grievously aware of the goosebumps pebbling my legs and arms. We looked at each other for a moment then said nothing. I hoped he wouldn't get the wrong idea.

I try to say something to him when we get back to the motel but he just looks at me and nods and walks off. I realize I don’t know what I was going to say anyway. Eventually I call after him.

"Hey, what time tomorrow?"

He turns around, still walking, and shrugs. "After five," he calls back.

"You want me to bring anything for you?"

He frowns. "Like what?"

"I don't know, dinner?"

Peter waves his hand. “Do whatever you like,” he says, and then he passes around the corner and is gone. I start to yell something after him but instead I just shake my head and go back up the stairs to my room. Inside I flop into bed and then roll over onto my back, stare up at the popcorn ceiling lurking ominously above me, blow a long breath out.

I have two missed calls from my dad, back from when I put the phone on silent, right before I began this whole adventure. I double-tap the icon so that it calls him back, and then after a second I shake my head and hang up the call.

“Fuck it,” I say out loud.

Then I roll over onto my side and try to sleep.

Continue with Part 3

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#writing #mystery flesh pit

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yanara126-writing · 4 years

Text

Reperire Regem - Lemon Balm (2/6)

Broder really should've gotten out of this before he started to care about the guy being possessed by a god. And yet, for some reason, he can't really regret not doing so.

5 times Broder found Waidwen (and 1 time he did not)

The first official journey of the Divine King does not go well, and Broder meets both the god and man.

Read here or on Ao3. (7624 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

It was a beautiful, sunny day and Broder was thoroughly on edge. He knew there was likely no reason to be, there had been no notable issues on this trip yet, but he really wished his king would stop vanishing into thin air.

He was standing in the middle of the village square, arms crossed and tapping his foot, while looking contemplatively around. The villagers were going about their business around him, organizing the evening’s feast, and throwing him nervous looks every once in a while, but he really couldn’t be bothered to give a damn at this moment. He’d sent out the few men that had accompanied them to search the surrounding areas and had personally looked through every building in this damned town and had asked everyone he could get his hands on if they’d seen anything. Of course, no one had. He felt like he was about to chew through his lip soon if nothing turned up.

He couldn’t keep standing here forever though, the villagers had dutifully ignored him for now, but soon they would need the space for the rest of the tables they were carrying here. A few were already laden with delicious smelling food, everything simple and without much diversity, but the best these people could provide.

And the best was only appropriate, as they’d decided. With the newly crowned god king visiting, the whole village was buzzing with excitement. The houses were decorated with religious symbols, either made from rough cloth or painted on, everyone was wearing their best clothes, and of course, a feast to his honours had been planned for tonight.

Now if only said king hadn’t disappeared the second Broder’s back had been turned. With a sigh he resolved to go check the nearby field’s again, before he got hit over the head with a table, and turned around, when a young human woman came up to him, nervously glancing down at his sword and then back to his face.

“Excuse me, sir? I heard you’re looking for... for the king...” She tripped over the words, and from the gleam in her eyes Broder could tell it wasn’t just in fear of him. She swallowed once before continuing: “I saw my sister and her friends going to the forest with him.”

“Oh thank fuck, finally.” With that exclamation of both relief at finally having a lead and still remaining dread over what he would find, he turned around and started off into the direction of the forest right behind the village. Only to stop again when he realized, that was probably not a good impression to make. And unfortunately, impressions were now part of his job. He turned around and nodded to the befuddled looking woman. “Thank you for your help.” She nodded, still intimidated, so he thought it better to just make an exit.

“They usually play by a small hill, behind the church!” He thanked her with another nod and then made for a strategic retreat.

On his way past the houses he felt like he was back in the Living Lands, dodging tables and chairs and the people carrying them like the vines and animals back then. He did not miss those few weeks. The nervous buzz in his body didn’t make the memories any sweeter.

After having escaped the chaos of the village, he found himself before the tree line and a very obvious trail further in. At least he wouldn’t have to search for the way it seemed. Though neither would anyone else, which made Broder’s nerves flare up again. Really, what was the man thinking? Going completely alone was one thing, still far riskier than Broder would like, but with a bunch of children running around, their position would be significantly harder to defend in case of an attack.

With fast steps Broder followed the trail into the forest, the damned purple cape that had been forced on him catching in the trees again and again, and not long after, he began hearing quiet giggling and the sound of small feet tapping over the leaf covered ground. After the trail bent around a particularly large tree, Broder stepped out onto a small clearing at the foot of a hill. In the middle of the clearing was a larger rock, in front of which sat his charge, back against the stone, and patiently letting two children braid his hair, while the third excitedly ran across the grass, picking flowers. It would’ve been cute, if Broder wasn’t still convinced something terrible was going to happen.

The king was no doubt aware of his presence, but made no move to react. With a deep breath so as to not show his displeasure overly much, Broder stiffly walked across the clearing, suspiciously eyeing the tree line. Only once he stood directly before him did Waidwen look up to Broder, eyebrow raised, as if daring him to comment on his position. The children were ignoring the knight completely, apparently having not deemed him worthy of attention, since they already had a willing victim for their artistic outburst. Broder swallowed his rising annoyance before speaking.

“I really wish you would inform me of where you’re going. Your Highness,” he said, voice almost as dry as the Readceran summers. The title he stated deliberately as an afterthought. He didn’t dare omit it completely, but still wanted to voice his irritation somehow.

“That would defeat the purpose of going though.” Waidwen looked away from him again, head held high and staring sightlessly towards the edge of the clearing, yet with a tenseness in his shoulders that betrayed his uncomfortableness. Good, maybe then he’d get it into his head.

“And what purpose is that? To get yourself killed?” That got Waidwen’s attention and his head snapped back to glare at Broder. The kids shrieked as his hair was pulled from their hands, undoing some of their hard work and spilling flowers all over the ground and the rock they were kneeling on. Waidwen only spared them a glance to make sure they hadn’t fallen off before focusing on Broder again.

“We both know that I’m not going to die, even if someone got the drop on me.”

“Even so, what about them? Can you guarantee for their safety too?” Broder nodded to the two children, who’d slid of the boulder to collect and sort their flowers. They were obviously listening, but knew better than to interrupt the heated debate. The elven boy who’d been collecting blossoms before had worked his way to the other side of the clearing, where he was desperately trying to reach one on a tree branch above him.

Waidwen froze and looked over the kids, the stubborn defiance bleeding out of his posture. His eyes grew glassy for a few seconds, concentrating on a voice only he could hear. He blinked a few times and then lowered his gaze to the ground, remaining quiet and stiff, as if awaiting a beating. Broder sighed.

“I don’t do this because I want to bully you, but you need to understand that you’re a target now, as is everyone around you. Aedyr is hardly going to give up and I can promise you, they’re not the only ones who’d love to have you out of the way. Maybe they’re not a threat to you, but they are to others and I can’t protect anyone if I don’t know where you are.” Broder made sure to soften his voice a bit while still remaining stern enough to get his point across. He really didn’t want to needlessly antagonize his king, especially since he looked more like a kicked puppy than a god king. “Look, back in the castle I’m sure we can figure something out so you don’t have me constantly breathing down your neck, but please don’t sneak off anymore when we’re in middle of nowhere.”

Waidwen nodded, reluctantly pulling himself up again, when a loud shriek and a thump sounded from other side of the clearing. Both Waidwen and Broder quickly turned around, to see the elven boy sitting on the ground, an arrow stuck in the tree right in front of his nose.

Without wasting time Broder unsheathed his sword and made to run over, but Waidwen was faster. With a speed Broder couldn’t help but be impressed by he jumped up and sprinted to the child, just so managing to pull him out of the way of the next arrow. After a millisecond of hesitation Broder remained with the other two and pulled them behind the boulder for cover, pushing them down and out of reach, at least for now. He highly doubted there was only one attacker, and he cursed himself for letting himself be distracted. He glanced around, but focused immediately back on his actual charge, who had picked up the boy by now and was running back to the rock as a defendable cover, face tight with concentration and guilt. Broder just wished he hadn’t been quite so right with his suspicions. Waidwen was almost back when Broder spotted an assailant.

“Down!” he yelled, and Waidwen dropped without a second’s hesitation, arms around the crying boy to shield him from the fall. With only a hair’s breadth of distance a fireball flew over his head, hitting the rock and scorching its surface.

Before Broder could jump to his aid and pull him up again, two hooded fighters came at him from the other direction, forcing him to shift around and meet them head on, to not let them reach the kids behind him. As much as it pained him to turn away from his actual charge, the king had been right. He could hold his own if necessary. Hopefully. The children could not.

He parried one blade and immediately pulled away to block the other one, grunting from the strain. Whoever these people were, they were no slouches, but Broder was better. He had to be.

He fought for every little piece of space, not letting them get any closer, but it was already starting to wear him out. Two against one wasn’t easy, and he also had to dodge the occasional arrow, yet couldn’t rely on his usual method of out-dodging his opponents. The scrapes from near misses were starting to pile up too, hindering his movement further. He had to think of something soon.

Behind him Broder could hear terrified sniffles and strained grunts interspersed with sounds of steel clashing and scraping, which told him Waidwen was busy with attackers as well. At least that meant he hadn’t failed yet, and with new determination he went on the offensive.

Then a blood curling scream sounded from behind him, causing Broder to almost freeze up. He barely caught himself and managed to stab one of his assailants in the gut, who had dropped his guard just long enough to look over to the scream’s source. The other one immediately fell back and moved further around Broder. That gave him the chance to turn as well, after pulling his sword out of the now lifeless body, without letting his opponent out of sight, and check what had happened.

What he saw almost made his heart stop. Waidwen stood facing the boulder, leaning on it with one shaking arm, with the other still limply holding the dagger Broder had insisted he carry. Beneath him, curled up in a shaking ball, lay one of the children and behind him stood a tall aumaua whose hood had fallen off, revealing a crazed, triumphant grin. The reason for it wasn’t hard to guess. In Waidwen’s back stuck an axe, plunged in so deep the blood was already running down his back in rivers, though the blade was still blocking the worst of it. His face was scrunched up in agony, breaths shallow and pained.

Broder was still desperately calculating how he could possibly still save his king and preferably the children, when the question was answered for him. With a furious roar Waidwen started glowing like Broder hadn’t seen since the coronation. His whole body was alight, not softly this time, but harshly, eyes burning with divine fury.

Broder watched with wide eyes as the god, for it couldn’t be anything else, grabbed behind himself and pulled the axe plunged in his back out without even a flinch, and let both it and the dagger fall to the ground unheeded. When he turned his attention to the would-be-assassins the rest of the world started to move again.

The now weaponless axe-bearer stumbled back, making space for the swordsman Broder had faced off against and the wizard a bit further back. The archer was still nowhere in sight. Broder stepped forward, intending to take care of the man before he could procure another weapon or flee, but once again his king was faster. With a flick of his arm a blinding light enveloped the attacker and he crumpled without even getting a chance to scream. The swordsman took the opportunity though and swung at his midsection, which he just barely dodged, almost slipping on his own blood which had soaked the leaves on the ground.

The scuffle that followed had nothing skilled about it anymore and Broder wanted to cringe. The hooded swordsman had given up on any semblance of elegance and was just barely managing to dodge the waves of energy that had already felled their companion. The only reason they were still alive and even managed the occasional hit, was that Waidwen had obviously no combat training whatsoever. A god he may be, but his attacker was obviously very determined and skilled enough to trick him again and again into missing with his random and clumsy swings.

The wizard was keeping their distance, preparing a spell while avoiding becoming a target. The archer was still shooting, but as they were now aiming exclusively at the god, who swatted the arrows away as if they were merely insects, Broder reluctantly decided to ignore them for now. After a short look at the sobbing but otherwise unharmed children, he went for the wizard.

The sudden show of power had apparently waned their attention, for they only noticed him once he had already reached them. They managed to block Broder’s swing with their grimoire, but the spell they had been preparing fizzled out harmlessly. With their attention divided between trying to hit Waidwen and defending themselves against him, it didn’t take Broder too long to get behind their defences and finish them off with a well-placed swipe across the throat. After kicking the grimoire away from the corpse for good measure to avoid any last bursts of magic, he turned around to see what he’d missed.

The fight was still going on, though both parties seemed to grow increasingly more frustrated and uncontrolled. Just as Broder stepped forward to assist, an arrow managed to lodge itself in the god’s shoulder, causing him to growl in frustration and whirl around towards the tree line. For a second the light glowed even stronger and apparently the god king saw something Broder didn’t, for he raised his hand again and with a thump a body fell out of one of the higher trees. That movement however gave the other attacker enough time to swing their sword in a way that Broder was sure would cut the king’s head clean off if it connected, god or not.

With speed born purely from desperation Broder jumped forward and rammed right into the other fighter, who lost their grip on their weapon and instinctively tried to shove him off, to no avail. Having dropped his own sword in favour of speed, he pulled a knife from the hidden sheath on his thigh and slashed their throat before they had chance for a meaningful struggle.

Heaving for breath, he waited a few seconds to be sure they wouldn’t get back up again and then turned around to check on the others, to find the god king completely motionless and staring at him. Broder froze even as blood uncomfortably soaked through his clothes, uncertain about what to do. He’d only seen something like this once before, at the coup and back then he’d been the centre of attention only long enough to mutter a short yes before the focus had shifted. When the god took a step in his direction, Broder had to suppress a flinch. Though he had no reason to believe the being would hurt him, the glowing, the pupilless, shining eyes and the blank stare were more than unsettling. The fact that he’d just seen the being kill just by waving at people certainly didn’t help.

The god stopped in his tracks though, and after a second or two the light faded, taking with it a pressure in the air Broder hadn’t even noticed in his adrenalin fuelled state. Waidwen swayed on his feet and then dropped to his hands and knees, heaving for breath. When he let out a tight groan, Broder’s thoughts snapped back into the usual post battle rhythm and he remembered the arrow stuck in Waidwen’s shoulder. Shaking himself out of his stupor and pushing away all unhelpful feelings of anger and fear, he got off the slowly cooling body he’d still been sitting on and knelt down next to Waidwen, pushing him up as gently as possibly, so as to not disturb the arrow. Waidwen didn’t object and let himself be manhandled into an upright position any resistance, but Broder still didn’t dare remove his hand, in fear he would just fall right over again. With a quizzical gaze Broder inspected the wound. The tip had sunken into the flesh completely, not quite out the back again, leaving a bloodied hole beneath the collar bone.

“Just pull it out, it’ll heal right up.” Broder looked up at hearing the tense words, seeing Waidwen still stare very deliberately away from him.

“It’s not gonna be pretty. I’ll have to shove it through the rest of the way, which will hurt like a bitch and bleed like it too. You sure it’ll heal immediately?” It wasn’t like he thought the other man was lying, but he also didn’t want to risk his king bleeding out on the forest floor because he had miscalculated his own healing abilities.

“Yes. The sooner it’s out, the sooner it’ll stop bleeding, just do it already.” Broder didn’t think Waidwen ever separated his teeth saying that sentence, and so decided to stop wasting time with questions. He broke off the tail the end of the arrow, eliciting a sharp exhale from Waidwen, and then positioned them in a sort of awkward hug, so he had a good grip on the remaining arrow and the back of Waidwen’s shoulder, where the tip would come out. Broder could feel Waidwen tense even more against him, and though that was hardly ideal he couldn’t exactly blame him for it. From this close Broder could feel the other man’s heartbeat sounding like that of a skittish rabbit and in an awkward attempt to calm him down a bit patted his shoulder, while breathing slowly and deliberately. The tensing he could compensate for with more strength if need be, but if he started twitching while he was holding the arrow shaft it could move the tip and injure him even further.

“On three. One, two-“ And with as much strength as he could muster in this strange position he shoved the arrow through. As soon as the tip was out on the other side, he grabbed it and pulled it out completely. The whole thing didn’t take long, but Broder knew from experience that it still hurt like crazy and so wasn’t surprised when Waidwen screamed into his ear as soon as he shoved. He had to give it to him though, even through the pain and no doubt fear, he didn’t move even a little, remaining completely still through the ordeal.

Broder hastily threw the arrow away and they remained on the ground for a while longer. Waidwen slumped over bonelessly, leaning heavily on Broder’s shoulder, who watched in morbid fascination as the wound he’d just made started glowing and healed shut in a matter of seconds. Much like the axe wound must have, for even though the shirt was torn up and bloody, no fresh blood welled up. He didn’t budge though, even after the hole in Waidwen’s shoulder was healed, and just waited patiently until Waidwen would calm down enough to get up on his own, keeping a steady grip on the young man. They sat in silence, just shamelessly soaking in the comfort of being assured they both survived, of feeling the other’s warmth and weight, for a moment forgetting that they were, in all honesty, strangers. The blood that soaked through his torn shirt stuck to his hand, filling the air with even more of the metallic tang Broder had grown too used to. Judging from the retching sound, Waidwen was very much not used to it.

After a while Waidwen lifted his head, looking over the carnage, brooding so hard Broder could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He kept his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, letting him absorb the situation. Broder knew enough to conclude that this was his first deadly battle, and the first kill was never easy, no matter how it was done.

Suddenly Waidwen gasped with alarm and whirled around, still on his knees peering over to the boulder, where the three children huddled together, quietly sobbing, but all very much alive. Looking everywhere but Broder he got up and walked over to them, hand outstretched to do what Broder wasn’t sure, but instead of calming down the kids only cried louder and inched away. Waidwen froze, obviously unsure about what to do. He had that strange, far-off look again for a second and then hesitantly backed off.

Broder sighed and wiped his sticky with blood hand on his pants. It was ruined anyway. The reaction of the children hardly surprised him, frankly he too was quite unsettled about what had happened, no wonder they were scared out of their wits. Time to do emotional damage control...

Waidwen was still standing around awkwardly, looking again like a kicked and abandoned puppy, and Broder really needed to talk to him about that at some point, but for now a pat on the shoulder and a reassuring look would have to be enough. Thankfully, it seemed like it was and Waidwen relaxed, nodding defeatedly, but apparently accepting the situation and stepped back further to allow Broder to deal with the traumatized children.

Fortunately, they took to him better than to Waidwen, and Broder spent the next minutes crouched on the ground, arms full with three sobbing children, doing his best to console them while still keeping an eye on his surroundings and his charge. He could already feel the headache coming. But better a headache than dead children or kings.

After a while of shushing, rubbing backs and, in Waidwen’s case, sightless staring into nothing that probably shouldn’t concern Broder as much it did considering who was doing it, he picked up the child crying the most, the elven boy Waidwen had taken an axe for. He lifted him on his back, told him to hold on and took the other two by the hand. Though he doubted anyone else would come for them right now, remaining here, surrounded by corpses, wasn’t going to do anyone any favours. He would have preferred to search the bodies immediately, but that would have to wait until his king was safe.

“Wai- Your Majesty?” He cursed himself for the slip of his tongue, but it was just so hard right now to remember this was a king in front of him, and not a fresh recruit on his first battlefield. Said king flinched a little at his words, yet all of a sudden, all the gloom, all the helplessness, all the misery fell off him. Where before his posture was hunched and closed off, now it was open and confident, the epitome of the god king he was heralded as.

“Let’s go.” And go he did, with a stride so determined and self-assured no one would be able to guess that just a minute ago he’d looked ready throw up.

Broder could only blink at the sudden change in demeanour. He was so bewildered, he only came out of his stupor when the little girl holding his hand pulled him along, since Waidwen himself had already reached the tree line and the small trail. With a start Broder hurried after him, determined not to let himself be distracted again, at least until they were safely back at the village, where other people could stand guard while he devised a strategy to respectfully inquire about his king’s mental state.

When he got closer to Waidwen he noticed something else that was off. He seemed... shiny. Not radiant like before, but far more subtle. His hair was slightly lighter than it should’ve been, both in colour and in weight, making the remnants of the braid bounce just enough to be noticeable. Even the torn flower petals still tangled in his locks looked livelier than before.

Waidwen turned around and Broder almost shuddered when he saw his eyes. They were as shiny as the rest of him and it made Broder far more uncomfortable than he wanted to admit. He knew the reason behind it, knew that there was no malicious intent in those eyes, but still they unsettled him. There was something wrong about their cool confidence, when he knew the young man they belonged to as anything but.

When he turned away again Broder was ashamed to be glad for it. He wanted to walk the way in silence, just focus on their surroundings so something like before wouldn’t happen again, but he was sure that as soon as they were back in the village they would be jumped by the villagers and he feared there would be no calm minute for the rest of the day. There were some things that needed to be said before.

“Your majesty, I suggest we return to the capital first thing tomorrow.” Broder steeled himself for protest, yet nothing came. Waidwen just continued walking without giving any reaction. Broder frowned. “Your majesty?”

“I heard you.” Waidwen still didn’t turn, his voice calm and distant, and Broder sighed. Though the young man hid behind that mask of his, Broder could recognize that kind of behaviour. He was sulking.

“I know you wanted to check the fields yourself, but it’s just too dangerous. We’ll find someone else to do it. You’re hardly the only capable farmer around here.” The silence continued, only interrupted by the occasional sniffle, and Broder reluctantly decided to leave it for now. He’d said his piece and pressuring him would hardly sway the young king in his favour.

They walked the rest of the way, out of the forest behind the church again without any disruption. The bustling from the townspeople could be heard even back here, making Broder realize that even though he felt about a decade older, not much time had really passed.

Waidwen came to a halt at the corner and looked down at himself. Broder stopped next to him and quietly agreed with what his king’s scrunched up face clearly portrayed. Him walking out there with torn and bloodied clothes was not a good idea. For both them and the morale of the villagers.

With obvious uncertainty and a slight tense in his shoulders Waidwen turned to Broder, eyebrows raised questioningly. Broder gave a short hum and considered their options. The tiny inn where their group was lodged was placed right in the centre of the village, in plain view of everyone in the town square, which in this moment was essentially everyone. After some deliberation he turned to his king.

“How good are you at sneaking?” Waidwen gave him a doubtful look.

“Not good enough to sneak through that.” Broder just cocked his head, unimpressed. “Acceptable, I guess,” Waidwen finally conceded. Broder nodded.

“Good. I’ll give you five minutes to go around and get behind the inn. Then I’ll go find the kids’ parents, make a bit of scene.” Which shouldn’t be too hard what with the now completely silent and disturbed children, and his also bloodied clothes. He raised his hand, which was now free as the human girl had latched onto his leg instead, and patted the elven boys head a little, who was holding so tightly onto him, Broder was almost fearing for his air supply. “While everyone’s busy with me, you can sneak in behind them.”

The king hesitated a little, giving the children a worried look, but then nodded and quietly slunk away, vanishing around the other side of the little church.

The next five minutes were… tense. Not in the way of expecting another attack, but more because Broder didn’t really know how to handle the kids, beyond just physical affirmation. He could hold them all day if necessary, but somehow, he knew that just wasn’t going to cut it. Most young recruits were at least somewhat prepared for their first battle, those who weren’t didn’t typically survive them. Those young recruits who lived got a chance to blab their problems to someone, a cup full of whatever alcohol was available in the region, and then usually fell into bed with whoever was down for it.

That wasn’t going to apply in this situation for obvious reasons. Although… maybe he could at least start with the first part. Talking was a good idea, right?

“You know, it’s okay to talk about it. You don’t need to with me, you don’t need to now, but don’t bottle it up if you want to, okay?” he said, using the calmest voice he could muster with the elven boy still pressing his wind pipe shut. After few seconds of quiet waiting, he could feel the human girl nod against his leg, the child still clinging to his other side hummed a little, and even the elven boy on his shoulders moved in a way that Broder was willing to identify as a nod.

Not wanting to prove himself a hypocrite he remained silent for the next minutes. After he deemed enough time had passed, he squared his shoulders, gently pried the girl off his leg and took her hand again, and made his way to the town’s square.

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Finally, after answering the same two questions (“What happened?” and “Is the king all right?) over and over again, he had been able to flee into the inn. Leaning against the wall next to the entrance he took a breath, only to immediately gag. The stench of his bloody clothes had only become worse with time and with the blood having dried, they were sticking to his skin as well now. Exasperated he lifted a hand to drag through he his hair only to stop himself at the last second and grimace. While he had wiped his hand, blood was stubborn and getting it into his hair as well would not make his life easier.

With a sigh he pushed off the wall and started making his way up the stairs to the private rooms. He slept in the common room downstairs, together with his soldiers, but handing back the children, calming the villagers and ordering his troupe to clean up the mess they’d left behind had taken longer than expected. He longed to peel off the filthy shell his clothes had become, but first he needed to make sure his king’s emotional crisis was managed. Preferably without any divine incinerations. He didn’t think that would be a problem, but… A frown creased his face as he remembered the fight. Better not risk it…

Standing in front of the door leading to his king’s room, he found nothing but silence. Whether that was good or bad he couldn’t say. Tugging on his blood crusted shirt to make himself at least a little more presentable, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Following the muted invitation Broder pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The only piece of furniture in the room was a crude wooden bed with coarse bedding that was halfway hanging off the frame. On it sat Waidwen leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, still in the filthy trousers and staring at his ruined shirt in his hands. Seeing him like this made it even harder for Broder to reconcile the shining god king incinerating his enemies with the young man in front of him. With his shirt off it was all the more obvious how skinny he really was. The loose shirt usually obscured the details, but now Broder could see his skin stretch taut across his ribs, and once again he was reminded just how much the people of this country had suffered. Automatically Broder’s eyes shifted to Waidwen’s shoulder, where not long ago an arrow had stuck. Not even a scar remained, the skin completely unblemished.

Suddenly something hit him in the face, and for a second Broder was terrified he’d again missed an attacker, but the second went by, and he noticed that what had landed on him was a fresh, woollen shirt. Pulling it off his head he saw a small but smug grin on Waidwen’s face, his hand still raised from the throw.

“You look about as shitty as I feel.” Broder had to snort at the pure absurdity of the moment. He tugged on the cloth sticking to his chest, causing it to make a vague cracking sound and Waidwen cringed, pure disgust radiating off him as the divine energy had before. “Please wash that off, I get nauseous just listening to that.” He nodded to something next to him and Broder’s eyes fell on a bowl filled with water, for which the bedding had been shoved to the side. A wet cloth hung over the side.

He hesitated, but quickly pushed the doubts aside. He’d been ordered to clean up, so clean up is what he’d do. It wasn’t like this was any stranger than what he’d been doing for the last few weeks.

So he put the shirt to the side and pulled his filthy one off with considerably more cracking of the soiled fabric. Lacking an appropriate place to leave it, he threw it into a corner to take away later. The washcloth was already a bit spotty, clearly having been used, but still clean enough to do its job, as was the water. Wiping himself off the worst of the blood and grime, he stared at the darkened water, dimly wondering how much of the red belonged to the young man next to him, who was once again staring at his torn-up shirt. Tears that had been caused by an axe burying itself in his back. Which reminded him…

As soon as he didn’t feel quite so sticky anymore, Broder soaked the cloth in water again and turned to Waidwen.

“Turn around real quick, would you.” Waidwen looked him, suddenly tense again and leaning slightly away, and Broder could see suspicion rise in his eyes. Though it was hardly his business, he did wonder what experiences could make this simple request seem so worthy of distrust.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve had an axe in your back and I’d like to make sure it’s really healed. Besides, I doubt you got all the blood off from there.” The blood mixed in the water and on the cloth seemed not nearly enough for the amount he’d seen gush out from the wound, and though he’d watched the wound in his shoulder heal in a matter of seconds right before his eyes, he’d still prefer to make sure. He never had been one for magic, much less gods. Not that he actively disliked them, but it’s hard to trust something you yourself have no true understanding of.

“It’s fine.” Some of the tension bled out of Waidwen’s posture, but he still kept himself guarded with his back angled away from Broder. The insistence did nothing to assure Broder of the words’ truth. He’d seen too many fresh recruits hide their wounds out of a misplaced sense of pride.

“Just let me check to make sure.” It was almost like trying to talk down an abused cat, which made the situation all the more surreal. Though weird as it was, it wasn’t technically new. The only difference was that he’d certainly never done that with an employer.

“You think I’m lying?” Waidwen narrowed his eyes.

“No, I just don’t think you can turn your head like an owl.” Broder frowned, making sure to exaggerate the movement for effect. “That’d be a weird skill to get from the god of light.” Waidwen let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. Possibly. Hopefully.

All of a sudden, the tension in the room changed. It didn’t leave, but refracted into something else, something Broder was eerily familiar with by now. An uncanny weight settled around them, though this time it thankfully didn’t touch him. Instead Waidwen just got this strange, faraway, and oddly sparkling look in his eyes again, as he stared off into the middle distance. Feeling awkward and this time lacking any other task Broder could only wait for the moment to pass, the wet washcloth still in hand, which was slowly dripping onto the floorboards. It was strangely uncomfortable to know that someone directly in front of him was talking to someone else that he couldn’t hear, even more so as he knew who, and especially what, he was talking to. It wasn’t quite as unsettling as seeing him blaze and rip people’s souls out, but in the end, it came down to the same source.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for the weight to lift again, but not before brushing over the surface of Broder’s consciousness, as light and warm as the spring sun, and with just as much potential to burn if he strayed too close. He let it pass over, keeping as still as possible, all too aware that any defence would be useless at best. Then it was over, and with the presence Waidwen’s resistance seemed to leave as well, as his shoulders dropped, and he just sagged into himself.

“Fine,” he muttered and scooted forward on the bed, just enough to make space for Broder. Not wanting to risk him changing his mind, Broder kept quiet about what had just happened and carefully slid behind him, pulling the bowl along.

Giving him a quick once over, Broder had to admit Waidwen had done a good job cleaning himself up. A few rusty red patches remained where had no chance of reaching them himself, but the majority of the blood that must’ve coated him was already gone. With quick movements he wiped off the few bloody spots left, taking note of the way the muscles clenched under his hand.

With the way Waidwen’s back looked it didn’t surprise him. The axe wound hadn’t left a trace, much like the arrow hadn’t, but instead his skin was littered with other scars, thin, white lines stretching over different lengths, scattered all over his back. All of them were faded and clearly at least a few years old already, perhaps more. They covered nearly all of the skin from his shoulder blades down to the waistband of his pants and were far too numerous to be of only one occasion.

Broder refrained from commenting or reacting at all, steadily continuing to gently wash away the proof of the prior massacre. While he himself did not carry such scars, he’d known others who had, and none had appreciated any mention of them. These weren’t marks of bravery or heroism won in honest battles to be proudly shown off around the campfire, but rather reminders of suffering the bearer hadn’t been able to defend themselves against.

Once he was finished, he threw the cloth into the bowl, moved out from behind Waidwen and sat himself beside him on the edge of the bed, leaving a bit of space between them. Though he wouldn’t mention the scars, still he’d come here for something else. How to broach the subject though… With the way Waidwen still sat completely rigid, Broder doubted he wanted to talk about it, much less with him.

Sitting in complete silence and watching the young man out of the corner of his eyes, seeing how clearly uncomfortable he was, Broder made the decision to take a leap of faith. Waidwen had taken a risk with turning his back to him, even though he clearly didn’t trust him that much. Taking a risk as well could be just the show trust needed in this moment. It might not make everything better at once, but a groundwork of trust was what kept mercenaries alive, both on the battlefield and off, so why shouldn’t it help now?

Very much aware of the uneasy gaze still following his every move, he untied the flask hanging from his belt and took a big swig from it, letting the liquid burn down his throat. When he was done, he offered it to Waidwen, the strong smell coming from the open lid identifying it as something very clearly not state sanctioned.

For a while Waidwen just stared at it with an incredulous look, and Broder began to fear he’d made a mistake, but then, the incredulity giving way to determination, Waidwen took it. Leaning his head back he took a big gulp-

Only to immediately choke on the liquor and harshly cough up the little liquid he’d already swallowed, just barely managing to save the flask from falling and spilling its content all over the floor from his shaking. Broder’s hand twitched, reflexively moving to pat him on the back, but he caught himself and cringed. Perhaps he should’ve warned him instead of just handing the flask over…

Once he managed to get his breathing back under control, Waidwen straightened again and grimaced, smacking his lips to get the bad taste out of his mouth. With a slightly horrified look he handed the flask back.

“The fuck is that?” The unrestrained show of pure disgust combined with the fact that he’d never heard the young king curse like that before, was absolutely hilarious to Broder and he couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.

“A bunch of Arrack and some Grog mixed together. Sorry ‘bout that, I’ve been drinking this shit for so long, I forgot how strong it really is.” Somehow the first curse had broken a great deal of boundaries and the atmosphere was significantly lighter than before, even as Waidwen was still scowling at the bottle, mumbling something about an assassination attempt on his taste buds, but there was no real heat behind it.

With the tension significantly lowered and his gamble having payed off, Broder felt confident enough to take another one. Keeping eye contact with Waidwen he calmly put one hand on his shoulder, keeping his touch light and taking care to keep his fingers high enough to not come into contact with any scars.

At first Waidwen’s shoulders tightened again, muscles freezing up as he fell silent. Almost immediately though the strain fell away once more, and with a sigh all of his energy seemed to evaporate, leaving behind only undisguised exhaustion. Once all defences where down, it was a strangely intimate moment. Though they’d been physically closer when Broder had pulled the arrow out of his shoulder, there had been an urgency and stress and fear, that had buried all sense of actual intimacy. The skin under his hand was warm, almost feverish, even though it was fall and hardly hot anymore, and Broder himself was already feeling the slight chill from sitting around bare-chested. Though it went against every one of his instinct, he reminded himself that that was probably normal for a guy being the avatar for a god. Someone who could heal from an axe to the back in a matter of seconds would hardly have issues with a fever.

Not wanting to push his luck, he pulled his hand back and pushed to his feet, stretching his arms with a pop.

“Well, I should go and prepare our departure tomorrow. You should rest up, there’s still that feast in two hours.” Waidwen just sighed, put his face into his hands and nodded. Taking that as his dismissal, Broder turned to leave- Only to feel something hit him in the back of the head again. Pulling it off, he saw that it was the same clean shirt he’d put to the side to clean off. A glance back proved that Waidwen was wearing a tired but smug smile. Broder laughed quietly, admitting to himself that he was fonder of the young king than was probably good.

Acquiescing to the wish expressed with soft violence he unfolded the shirt and pulled it on. With some struggle he succeeded. It was clearly one of Waidwen’s, who was quite a bit scrawnier than Broder, so the cloth stretched tightly over his ribcage, so tight in fact, that Broder was nearly certain it would rip before nightfall. But for now, it held, and for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to deny the gift, no matter how impractical.

With one last smile and a very stiff bow, he bid his king, his new friend, goodbye and left the room, dreading the rest of the day a little less.

#Pillars of Eternity #Waidwen #Broder #fanfiction #writing #original male character #male friendship #hurt/comfort #fluff #allusion to child abuse #graphic descricption of violence #protectiveness #Waidwen really needed a friend #so I made him one #please give me some feedback I'm starving here #I'm completely floundering but I really wanna do this so I will #but some help would be appreciated #sorry I don't want to complain you're all great #it's just in the middle of the night and I'm tired

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givemeacrownofwords · 4 years

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The Best Friend (Part 12)

A/N: Well hi there! It has been pretty much 6 years since I have posted anything on this blog. It’s been way, way too long. A lot of things have happened to me in six years. I’ve been in my first long term relationship, finished college (bachelors and masters degree), landed my first real job, moved out of my parents’ house, pulled through my depression, and the list could go on. The one thing I haven’t done that I should have been doing all along was writing. About a month or two ago an old follower of this blog reached out to me about “The People We Were”. I was so proud and excited that someone still remembered my fanfics even after all this time. I want to get back to a lot of things that I’d been writing, including that fic in particular, which has always held a special place in my heart. But I recently discovered that I had an unfinished chapter of this fic, The Best Friend, sitting in my old writing folder. It seemed like a good place to begin finishing my old work (the irony). It’s with great excitement and anticipation that I finally post this, to whoever is still out there and following this blog. I missed writing so much and I’m hoping that this will be the true start of me getting back to it on a regular basis. Now that I’m done rambling, hope you enjoy!

**Summary: Andrea (Andy) Kent has known Tony Stark since she was a little girl, they are best friends and she is intimately involved in the Iron Man project, but what will happen when her work on the suits puts her in grave danger?

Part 12:

Tony’s POV:

It was only as he was running toward danger that Tony realized he was completely unarmed. Luckily, Rhodey had incapacitated a great deal of Twist’s men on his way to setting him free and leaving with Andy. Tony managed to grab a pistol off an unconscious body slumped against the wall and continued briskly down the hallway after checking that it was fully loaded. He scoured the whole compound, kicking down door after door and searching room after room. Twist was nowhere to be found.

Finally he heard footsteps. He cocked the pistol and raised it in front of him. One of Twist’s goons seemed to be running desperately for the exit and had found himself straight in Tony’s path.

“Freeze meathead.”

The man stopped in his tracks and raised his hands above his head.

“Where’s Twist?” Tony demanded, resting his finger on the trigger so that this guy knew he meant business.

“Don’t shoot me!” the henchman cowered, “He’s already gone! He got in a helicopter with a couple of men and took off with the suit!”

Goddammit, Tony thought, and he stepped up to the man and punched him square in the jaw with the pistol. It had been a gut reaction, done out of anger and frustration, and the man instantly dropped to the floor unconscious. Not only had Twist near killed his best friend, he’d gotten away with a suit. That was a big problem, and Tony knew he’d have to answer for it to SHIELD if he didn’t get it back.

He swiftly found the exit to the near deserted compound and ran out onto the dirt clearing in front of it. Tony collapsed onto his knees in exhaustion and put his head in his hands. He didn’t even look up again until he heard the Iron Patriot land in front of him less than an hour later.

“He got away didn’t he?” Rhodey asked matter-of-factly once he’d lifted the metal faceplate of his suit.

“Yeah,” Tony responded flatly.

“And he’s got Mark 42?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” Rhodey cursed sharply under his breath. He then gave Tony a hand and got him up out of the dirt.

“How’s Andy doing?” Tony asked concernedly once he was back on his feet.

“I managed to get her to a hospital right outside of Boulder. She’s stable and conscious. That girl’s tougher than she looks,” Rhodey gave him a reassuring smile. Tony smiled back, happy to hear that and relieved that his friend hadn’t said another word about his missing suit.

“Think you can get me there?”

Andy’s safety was Tony’s top priority right now, not his worries about SHIELD and not the suit.

“You bet,” Rhodey replied reassuringly, reaching out his arm for him.

Tony latched on to the suit, and with that, they took off into the quickly darkening sky.

Andy’s POV:

Andy felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Every inch of her body was sore, she could barely sit up, but she was alive and conscious and safe atop a hospital bed, and she couldn’t be more grateful for it. Pepper Potts was sitting directly at her side, holding tight to her hand.

“Before Rhodey left I had him phone SHIELD with the coordinates of that compound. They’re sending Clint and Natasha, and Fury is going to get on the scene as soon as he can too,” Pepper explained to her nervously, giving her hand a squeeze. Andy could tell that she was worried about Tony, and truthfully she was too. She only hoped Rhodey got back in time to help him escape the compound before Twist pulled any more of his dirty tricks.

“I know it’s going to be ok,” she replied to Pepper weakly. Andy had so much more to say to her. She knew that Vin had stirred up problems between her and Tony, and it was all her fault. With a violent tremble, Andy tried to sit up. Pepper attempted to stop her but she pushed up with enough force to finally do it.

“I want you to know Pep…” she turned to the other woman, who looked like she hadn’t slept in days on her behalf, and her stomach did a guilty backflip inside her, “I need you to know…there was never anything like that between me and Tony.”

And there never will be, she also thought internally. Andy had been so wrong to love him like that, to want him to be any more than a brother to her, her best friend. It was Vin who taught her that, even if it had been in the most demented and sickening way possible.

Pepper sighed audibly, she sounded both exhausted and relieved. The thought of it had clearly been weighing on her deeply, but she knew Pepper wouldn’t have come all the way to Colorado if she felt that there was even a ghost of a chance that Andy had betrayed her like that.

“I know,” she responded softly with a gentle smile.

Suddenly, the two women heard a commotion outside the door to the hospital room.

“Mr. Stark I can’t just have you barging in on a patient like this! Ms. Kent is in very fragile condition and it is my advice that she not be crowded while she’s still in recovery.”

“No one’s going to crowd her because I’m going to be the only one going in there,” Andy heard Tony retort, to the objection of several other voices surrounding him.

Upon hearing him outside, Pepper immediately got up and ran through the door. Andrea watched her embrace Tony tightly and give him one of the deepest kisses she’d ever seen since he’d gotten back from New York. Nick Fury, Maria Hill and Rhodey all stood close by.

Andy made eye contact with Fury through the open door and he began to approach her intently but Hill stopped him with a hand to his chest. She thought she heard the SHIELD agent ask him to give her some time, and he looked like he wanted to fight her about it.

“Don’t you get it? If we don’t find out where this Twist bastard is today then he’s completely lost to us. And so is that damn suit,” Fury’s irritation was directed both at Tony and at Agent Hill.

“Clint and Natasha are holding Vin at the compound. I doubt Andy knows anything about where Twist was going to go next, but I bet you anything that he does,” she continued to insist to Fury.

The SHIELD director shot her and Tony an angry look before disappearing from the doorframe and down the hospital wing. Andy heard him check in with Agent Romanoff through his earpiece as he walked away. Hill quickly followed in his wake and Rhodey too, listening to the doctor’s orders to give her space.

Andy finally watched Pepper take Tony’s hands and touch her forehead to his. They both closed their eyes and stood there like that for a moment before Pepper pulled away and took her leave down the hallway too. Then Tony turned and walked into her room.

They hadn’t really spoken to each other since their fight on the day she was kidnapped. So many emotions washed over Andy at the same time in seeing him again, the strongest one being relief for his safety.

He was slow to approach her bedside at first, and he was giving her the type of smile that she had become very accustomed to when they were kids. It had “apologies for getting you into trouble, but you’re the one who chose to be in my mischievous company” written all over it. Andy returned it, weakly but genuinely, and tried to sit up straighter than she had been before. The pain and weakness she felt all over her body made her wince and tremble.

“Hey, hey, hey, take it easy,” Tony finally sat by her bedside where Pepper had been a few moments ago and encouraged her to stay laying down.

She listened and they were silent for a full minute, concentrating on the whirring and beeping of the hospital equipment rather than the unsaid words between them. Tony was the one who finally broke the silence.

“I’m just so glad you’re ok…” he breathed a sigh of relief and put his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

Andy knew she should have felt ashamed, Vin and Twist had broken her down and finally told Tony the truth about how she felt about him. Instead she felt freer than she’d ever felt in her entire life.

“This isn’t your fault Tony, it’s mine. You were trying to protect me and I should have taken it more seriously. I put you in danger, I hurt Pepper, and we lost a suit…”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Mark 43?” Tony quickly interrupted her, but not in anger. He had an amused look on his face, and he was clearly trying to distract her from her apology and her feelings of guilt. She was so grateful for that.

“It was supposed to be a surprise…” she chuckled weakly and hesitated

a moment before asking, “Well…did you like it?”

“Come on Andy, I loved it!” he exclaimed too loudly. Some nurses peaked into the room through the window to make sure everything was ok before moving on with their rounds on the hospital floor.

Andy let out a laugh, allowing her heart to be light for the first time in what felt like a really long time. Her joy got caught in her throat when she remembered that the design was lost for sure now, or in Twist’s demented hands.

“What are you going to do about Twist?” she asked Tony seriously.

He was silent for a moment and he looked thoughtful. His brows furrowed and she saw anger flash in his eyes. “SHIELD will make sure he’s neutralized,” his response was flat, he was clearly holding back. It would have been obvious to anyone listening that he was lying.

Tony was still clutching her hand and she squeezed back now supportively. “They’re going to need your help, they always do,” Andy replied.

Tony laughed dryly, unable to hide how he truly felt. “Always calling my bluff, ever since we were kids.”

“Come on Tony, Twist made it personal. He used Vin to do that. And I’m not going to take this laying down anymore either. I should have been stronger in there from the beginning, I let them both get to me.”

“But you were strong Andy. I never treated you the way I should have…but you’ve always been there for me.”

Andy’s heart filled up hearing that. Tony wasn’t one for apologizing but she knew that’s what he’d just done, in his own way.

“You will always be my brother Tony,” she replied steadfastly.

Their eyes met and nothing more needed to be said. They both knew that the rest of it all was history.

Not a second later they heard a commotion in the hallway again. It was Fury, arguing with Agent Hill once more about coming in to talk to her. Andy saw him close to the doorway and before Tony could react she beckoned him in. That was all the permission he needed before he bolted past Agent Hill and straight to her bedside.

“Before you say anything Agent Fury I think I have an idea of where Twist might be. He was the one who tried to kidnap me in LA. And he had to have had it in with the cops because he was released way too quickly after he was arrested. He’s got some sort of connection to the town and it might be a good place to start.”

“But would he be stupid enough to go back there when he could go anywhere else in the world?” Tony was the one who responded and Fury nodded in agreement.

“He has a buyer for the suit. I think he was trying to throw us off the scent by coming all the way out here. And trying to draw us all away from home base.”

Fury looked skeptical for a moment, while Tony beamed with pride and excitement at the new lead Andy had given them. “She might be right,” Fury finally conceded, “I’ll see what Romanoff and Barton got out of Vin and then we’ll regroup to LA.” With a sweep of his black trench coat he made his way toward the hallway. He turned and gave Andy a gentle look before saying, “Just try to stay out of trouble for now won’t you Ms. Kent?” He waited for her to nod in agreeance before disappearing around the corner. Agent Hill, who had been lingering outside, trailed quickly behind him.

Andy waited until she was sure Fury was out of earshot and then blurted to Tony, “I’m coming back to LA with you. There’s no way you’re taking down Twist without me.”

He looked shocked at first but for some reason Andy knew he wouldn’t disagree, and she wasn’t wrong. “We go back together,” he began cautiously, “as long as you’re well enough to fly. I’ll talk to Pepper, she got here in the company jet. And just so you know, if you’re joining this fight it’s only so I don’t let you out of my sight for a minute until it’s over and Twist is done.” It was a quick, no nonsense answer and Andy knew it wouldn’t get any better than that.

“I’m on board,” she replied.

“Alright, I’m going to get Pepper and Rhodey and we’re out of here.” Tony then left the room just as quickly as Fury had only moments ago.

Back to LA to find Twist, to get the suit back, to end this.

And I’m finally going to get to fight back.

#the best friend #part 12 #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #rdj #rdj fanfiction #robert downey jr #multichapter

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maiden-of-wolves · 6 years

Text

Fox & Ariel - Persistence

“Meeting” Scene Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Battle of Haven

After the battle. Brief relief and answers that just lead to more questions.

The wind was very helpful in keeping awake. Ariel didn’t know how long she’d been waiting, but she didn’t care to keep track. Venna was supposed to come back this way; supposed to walk right up to this ridge. She would be here. As much as she tried to convince herself that Fox would be with her, the way he left made her doubt her own conviction. There was still a faint hope in the back of her mind, but all the hot tears she’d cried being dragged away diluted it. For now she sat watch on the ridge, having refused to move ever since they set up camp in the small valley they’d found and she’d recognized, draped in two furs and staring blankly forward. She’d long been too tired to scan the horizon for some time and only blinked steadily to keep her eyes from being dried by the wind or frozen shut.

When something did change she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it. Maybe that black spot was just a boulder that got uncovered in the winds? It kept getting bigger and she narrowed her eyes to try and focus. Her glasses had been broken fairly thoroughly by a spooked domesticated Bronto as the remaining members of Haven made their way through the mountains, but she could still see enough to make out differences even in the faint light that the moon offered. She slowly forced herself to stand, the biting wind terribly cold on the knees that had been buried in snow for so long. Her movement made some snow around her fall into the space she’d vacated and served as a further reminder of the cold, but she pushed it away to try and focus. She hugged the furs still around her shoulders closer as she continued to watch.

That was a very big dot. It wasn’t one person? For a brief moment her heart pounded, was she seeing a few forward scouts? As she continued watching she calmed; there was no way anything that was a threat would be moving as slowly as these people were. Memories from this point in the game flooded in. This had to be Venna, and, hoping against hope, Fox as well. Still, she waited for a bit longer to make entirely certain she wasn’t just matrixing their forms in the snow and through the wind that stirred the snow.

“I think that’s a scout…” Venna murmured, looking over to Fox. She’d been telling him to stop heating her for pretty much their entire journey since they exited the cave. While Venna’s clan wasn’t used to these kinds of temperatures, he was in a far worse state than she was and couldn’t afford the energy loss. For now, he seemed to still be moving and that was all she could ask.

She glanced back up, moving a hand from its steadying position on his arm to shield her eyes so she could see a bit clearer. Yes. There was a person at the top of the hill, but that was all she could tell. In a slightly desperate bid, she created a small glowing orb and held it between their faces for a minute to show whoever they were who they were before tossing it away from her. It was unaffected by the wind and fluttered close to the ridgeline before dissipating.

Though she couldn’t make out details on the faces, just the sudden introduction of light brought a spark back into Ariel’s hope. When the light was thrown, it highlighted their hair— both redheads— and that was enough to convince her. She cupped her hands around her mouth and cried, “Cullen!” waiting only long enough to be sure that it had echoed down into the valley camp before shrugging off the furs and starting down the hill.

Venna knew that she shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Ariel’s voice, but she choked out a breathless chuckle. “She’s so stubborn…” she muttered to herself and shook her head as she watched Ariel all but stumbling down the snowy hillside. Looking over to Fox, she couldn’t tell if he was able to hear her. At least he was still conscious enough to carry most of his own weight. “Help’s coming. Stop with the heating spell, Fox. You need to conserve your energy.”

Fox’s head tilted up, a few snowflakes landing on his cheeks and lasting far too long before melting. “Ah. They found you. Good.” And then he fell completely limp all at once.

Venna gasped, having to partially bury her own self in the snow just to catch Fox before he fell into the snowdrift. “Fen’harel take you,” she cursed at him, having to be careful not to shove him too much as she pushed him back up. “You’re such a stubborn, arrogant… Vint!” she added in a grumble.

“He’s alive!” Ariel gasped, finally dragging herself close enough to help. She immediately reached out to try and wrap an arm around Fox so she could help Venna carry him but quickly found her cursed version of magic reacting to the active spells. “Damnit!” she cursed, “I can’t…” Tears threatened again until she stubbornly pulled her arms further into her blouse so her hands never touched his clothes. “There.” Even as she moved to help and any part of her neck or face that touched his clothes or skin burned painfully, she looked over at Venna. “Can you still help him up?”

While she was glad to see her friend, Venna was a bit irritated that she hadn’t even been greeted and now was expected her to keep carrying Fox with her. “And I am not worthy of your help?” she asked.

Ariel gasped out a meek laugh. “You are! Just… he’s… he fainted. He needed help more.”

“Sure. Because I look fine,” she said, her tone far too dramatic to be anything but a joke. “Totally healthy, no need for your concern at all.”

“No, you look like shit,” Ariel admitted, offering Venna a smile. “Did you want me to carry you instead, let him just fall flat on his face?”

“He has been a stubborn ass,” Venna answered, though moments later they were doing their best to move forward. It was a little difficult, considering both of the women were about a foot shorter than Fox, but thankfully it wasn’t long before an entire squad of soldiers came across the ridge and made their way down with Cullen and Cassandra first to their position.

Ariel was torn when it came down to who to follow when they finally got back into camp. Frankly, Fox needed far more help and she followed the group tending to him instinctively, but she was denied entrance to the tent they took him to. By the time she reached Venna’s resting space, she was asleep and Ariel decided it was best to just sit and wait.

When Venna woke, she found a hand laid over hers and Ariel next to her bed in a ramshackle chair. Considering how slowly she was breathing Venna was hesitant to wake her but spoke up anyway. “So I take it they didn’t let you help Fox?” she asked.

Ariel wasn’t awake, but she was a light sleeper and stirred. She recognized that she’d been spoken to and hummed in acknowledgement before sitting up and removing her hand.

“I must have been out a while,” Venna noted.

Ariel yawned, her eyes fluttering open before leaning to the side enough to get a good look at the sky. “Yeah. Can’t see the moon. Must’ve been a few hours at least. Might be morning soon.”

“I thought your phone could tell you?”

Ariel shrugged. “Don’t have it. Haven’t bothered to ask around about it. I want it back, but I won’t die without it.”

Venna actually laughed at that, though she winced a little and regretted doing it. “Such a difference from when you first got here…”

“Well, to be fair, it’s been a while now,” Ariel replied with another noncommittal shrug.

Their conversation died off with that, both of their attentions drawn to the advisors who were arguing amongst themselves.

“A divided house cannot stand,” Ariel recalled, shaking her head.

Venna looked to her, brows furrowing in concern. “What?”

“Just a phrase from home,” her friend replied, doing her best to offer a smile. “Sorry. It’ll be fine. They just take a while. A lot has happened and they feel like they don’t have any proper direction to go in. Shepherds with no place to lead the flock.”

“But we’ll find a place?”

Ariel’s smile widened. “Yup! And you’ll be impressed. I promise.”

“You don’t know the way?”

She shook her head. “No. But Solas does.”

“Solas?”

“Did you think he explored the Fade and found nothing of value in the waking world?”

Venna’s eyebrows shot up at the idea, but it seemed to settle her a little and she finally smiled a little. “Let’s just hope it’s not one with a torn veil and spirits, since he’d be happy with such a place.”

It was Ariel’s turn to laugh at that. “No. It’s not. But it’s old. There’ll be repairs. But that’ll be good. People will be kept busy and distracted from their experiences at Haven.”

The Herald merely nodded several times, relieved to know that things would work out in the end.

“So you’re awake,” a voice came from behind Ariel. She turned around to find Mother Giselle approaching.

Oh, here we go… Ariel thought to herself. “I think I might be allowed to check on Fox now,” she said, eager to excuse herself before the singing began. “I’ll let you and Mother Giselle talk.” She felt a little guilty as she left because Venna stared after her with a look that echoed betrayal, but she wasn’t about to stay around for the sing-a-long. She could sing, but people singing and kneeling and the weird mood behind it all? No, thank you. Hard pass.

When she finally sorted her way through the camp to where they were housing Fox, the guys that had denied her entry before were busy figuring out where everyone else was going so she slipped inside. He looked better than he did when she saw him pass out with Venna, but not by a lot. Her mind was quick to remind herself that this was her fault, that she hadn’t pushed hard enough against Ivan’s restraint and had made the fatal mistake of begging for his help in the first place. Clearly the man would not side with her over the man he held so much loyalty for…

It took her awhile to push through those thoughts, but eventually she made herself move. He’d been changed out of his robes, so she tentatively reached out to touch his hand just to see if he was no longer cold only to be greeted with a familiar burn. The back of her hand crackled as she lost focus from the surprise and she quickly pulled it away with a hurt expression. What had happened? Did the healers put a spell on him?

“I was wondering if you’d do that,” Ivan said from behind her. He chuckled, but there wasn’t much mirth in it.

Ariel pulled her hand in even closer to herself and whirled around, slight panic replacing her prior concern. “Is he okay?” was the only thing she could think to ask once she realized it was just Ivan and her body relaxed a little.

“He’ll be fine. A little scarring, but he shouldn’t lose any fine motor function.” Ivan nodded towards Fox’s hands, only half covered by the blankets. They looked bright pink in the dim light.

Oh, right, she realized, turning her head to look back at Fox’s hands. Frostbite… Still, at least he would be okay and there wouldn’t be any severe damage. Scars told a story of survival and sometimes Ariel idly wondered what it said to people that she didn’t have many before she came here. She dragged her mind back onto the proper present track; she wanted to know why she couldn’t touch him without encountering magic. “Did the healers put some kind of ward on him?”

“That’s his latent ability. If he’d been born to any other family, he’d probably be the best healer Thedas had ever seen, but instead we have this.” Ivan’s gestured sharply to Fox’s armor, piled next to him. “He’d be nothing but frostbite scars without it.”

The last portion was amazing, but the entirety made Ariel’s mind spiral with inquiries and theories. It felt like she’d sorted through thousands of questions as they brought up theories and struck others down based on the tiny bits she did know. Eventually she had a coherent question and decided to ask it. “Has he… had to heal like this before?” Though that one did not feel like enough, so another followed for clarification. “From dangerous wounds that would have killed him?”

“No. Wounded, maimed, yes, but he had to live long enough to be a sacrifice, you understand.” He rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “The Magisterium doesn’t make for happy childhoods.”

“No, actually, I don’t understand,” Ariel sighed. She knew that upper crust life in Tevinter couldn’t have been that great, considering Dorian’s story, but this was still beyond that. “Were these wounds from him being an arrogant mage who overestimated his power? Or inflicted on a child who couldn’t defend themselves?”

Ivan laughed long and loud and only stopped when he had to clutch his chest, which looked lumpy - possibly from bandages. “The only lesson he learned from them was to only engage in fights he’ll win handily. Haven was the exception, not the rule. No. They were inflicted upon a helpless child.”

His laughter left her terribly confused and she just stood there watching him, blinking with her feelings written clearly on her face. It was even more confusing when he finished. Why would he laugh about that? That was awful! “That’s horrid…” she managed to say, expression melting into concern as she turned around to look at Fox again. Not wanting to interact with his latent magic again she pulled her hand into her sleeve and used that to carefully push some stray hairs out of his face. At least that seemed to work, she noted to herself as she pulled her hand back.

“Indeed. Many times I wished I could attribute their actions to demons, but we cannot always have what we want. He has made what he can of the time afforded him.”

That would certainly explain his cavalier attitude, to life and love, she admitted to herself. “Some people are just shitty,” she muttered, still watching Fox’s face. She wondered how many times he’d been afraid and felt alone. If she hadn’t wanted to help him before, this did. After watching his chest rise and fall a few times in silence she turned back around to Ivan. “And what was that whole ‘ritual circle’ stuff you talked about? Why does he think he’s supposed to die soon?”

“The magical specifics are beyond me, but my understanding is that once he reaches a certain threshold of magical… capability, power, strength, something along those lines, the ritual will activate and…” He turned one hand palm up as he trailed off. “That’s all he was meant to be. A sacrifice.”

Ariel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her face paled and her thoughts slipped past her lips virtually unfiltered. “His parents… just had him to fatten him up like a cow for slaughter? Put magic for fat and slaughter for sacrifice. That’s… insane. Please tell me they’re dead. If not… well, I have a request to put in at the war table when we get to Skyhold.”

“If that’s how you want to spend your time, I cannot stop you, but I dare say the Inquisition has far greater concerns than the life of a single mage.” Ivan leaned back in his chair and sighed.

That reaction probably troubled her even more than the rest of their conversation. Why wouldn’t he feel the same? Surely they deserved some kind of retribution after all they’d done? None of it made sense to her. “With that kind of logic, I may as well have gone with Venna,” she muttered. “What’s the life of a prophet when all her information is written and easily accessible? Are we all so easily discarded?” That said, she looked around for a proper place to sit. She wanted to stay with Fox, if she could.

“I think you misunderstand. At least two enchanters from the Circle of Minrathous are dead from attempting to stop this and one more is missing. Why would he order your tinctures from Asariel when he should have had connections more prestigious? It is not for lack of trying that this fate lingers.”

So he’d tried to stop his ‘fate’ but even Tevinter mages in their capital couldn’t help? That was beyond concerning. She honestly didn’t know how much less ‘prestigious’ Asariel was from Minrathous, but she supposed with how Dorian talked about the capital anything that wasn’t from there was always considered lesser by Tevinters. For some reason the hopelessness of his situation only spurred her to ask more questions rather than resign herself to the fact that he’d just keel over one day or something. It seemed completely impossible, someone as hardy and powerful as Fox just losing his life to something in his blood. It also was entirely unfair. And if there was anything Ariel couldn’t stand, it was something that was unfair. “Is there nothing to do for it, then? Maybe something not related to enchantments?”

“He had a choice: try to save his life… Or live it.” The words seemed to hang in the air like brutal, ugly things and it was several, endless moments before Ivan spoke again. “I tried. And then eventually, I chose to respect his decision.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Ariel insisted. “Is there another way to stop it?” As she waited for an answer, she took up residence on a stool on the opposite side of the bed that had probably been the perch for a healer previously. “And what’s going to happen, anyway? Will he even know it’s coming? Or will he just… fall over one day?” The last question sounded ridiculous, she knew, but she had no idea how this thing would work.

“There's no way that I know of. As for how it will manifest? If he knows, he hasn't told me. We can only hope it will be so painless.”

Considering that his parents were so cruel… makes me doubt it will be, she couldn’t help but think. Still, she kept that thought to herself. Surely Ivan had worried about this for a long time already without her adding any fuel to the fire. Was this part of the reason why he was so intent on making sure she didn’t die and didn’t think her life was worthless? Was he so convinced he was going to die anyway that it didn’t matter to him if he walked into danger? Ivan had said he didn’t enter fights he didn’t know he could win… but if Haven was going to be a new norm, she would be right to worry.

She hesitated to touch him again, but this time she made sure to be touching the blankets instead. That, at least, seemed to work and she let her hand rest lightly along his linen-covered knuckles. Part of her idly wondered why she cared so much. They’d almost always fought, for what seemed to always end up being intense misunderstandings, and the little she had learned about him personally had mostly been learned through Ivan. What would he say if he were awake? Would he have told Ivan not to tell her anything? Shooed her away when she showed concern? To have kept so much about himself to himself… she couldn’t help but think he was lonely even if he didn’t want to admit it. Ariel wasn’t lonely here, even if she wanted to be alone a fair amount of the time, and she hoped that maybe he’d stick around long enough to feel that way too.

#my writing #co-writing #co-authored #tk-duveraun #Fox #OC: Ariel Grace #OC: Venna Lavellan #dragon age inquisition

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hellimagines · 6 years

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Thirteen O’Clock (Chapter Three)-- Patrick Hockstetter

Masterlist

Summary: Alex feels something calling out to her from the woods, so she does what any person in Derry would do; she investigates.

Warnings: Cursing. That’s it I think

Pairing: None yet

Word Count: 2,090

A/N: Guys. Someone should make a moodboard or some shit for this. Keep me goING because I’m losing hope. Motivation? Don’t know her. Send me love.

Once the heel of Alex’s black combat boot stepped away from the treeline, all of the noise came rushing back in. The chirping of the birds, water lapping at the shore down below, the distant voices of the boys, and her feet crunching at the ground below. It felt like her ears had just popped after landing from a flight, and she felt uncomfortable and a thousand miles away from Derry. Looking around, Alex took into account that the forests of Derry would actually provide the perfect hunting ground for a serial killer, especially when their victimology consisted of children. Derry was practically one entire forest running through the town (and beyond) so deep, that it could take a day or two to make it all the way through. Not to mention the sewer system connecting the barrens that ran down the middle, dividing the town.

Alex walked farther, stepping over upturned roots, large rocks, and soggy patches of earth. The boys wouldn’t notice her missing- hell, they hardly noticed her presence, so she had the perfect opportunity to search for any clues to an arranged crime scene from a possible unsub. She had had a good day and a half to catch up with her brother, but now she had to get to work and do what she came here to do. As she took in her surroundings (large, green trees, rocks that could very well be boulders, roots that stuck so far up, she had to hold onto them to get over them), she noticed how powerful the forest was. It was almost humming with the feeling, like when her car had crossed the town line, and a part of her wanted to strip bare and feel like power down to her bones. However, with all that power, there was no life on the ground. Birds could be heard in the trees, but the ground was barren of any pawprints, nests or burrows.

Alex continued to follow the feeling of power, allowing it to suffocate her as she squeezed through narrow trees and huddles of rocks. It was getting dark, but she couldn’t tell- all she wanted was to know where that power was coming from and why. Why was this forest filled with it? The birds had quieted a while ago, and now the only sound was the crunching of decayed, autumn leaves, and the canal that ran alongside her. The ground began declining, much like a hill, and soon Alex found herself leveled with said canal, rather than overlooking it. The blue, twilight hue from earlier was gone, leaving Alex with nothing but the moon as her flashlight.

Carefully, Alex slid down the canal’s edge, her boots landing on top of a stable rock, while she gripped a tree branch for balance and support. The moon’s reflection was bouncing off the shallow water, providing her with dim lighting. She sat on top of the rock, her boots sinking into the muddy bank while she looked around. The powerful feeling was at its peak right here, but at the same time, she felt calm, and at home. Like she belonged here, like this specific spot was built for her. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket for warmth, and she found her fingertips absentmindedly tracing her FBI badge that was tucked away within them. She always kept the badge on her, even while she was supposed to be undercover, and the familiarity felt nice. Alex didn’t want to admit it, but Quantico, Virginia had become her home the past few years. Her team had become her family, and each case had become a part of her. Derry was just a nuisance, and her brother was a missing puzzle piece- one she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to complete at this point.

A sudden curse from the side of Alex caught her attention, causing her to jump and turn her head. Sticks and rocks were tumbling down the side of the bank and into the canal before a lanky figure emerged from between the trees. “How the actual shit, did you get all the way out here? Huh?” the voice questioned, filled with irritation and anger. Alex had no clue who the voice belonged to, so she stayed quiet, instead choosing to stand on the rock, giving her a taller stance. “I asked you a question, kitten.”

“How the fuck did you find me, Hockstetter?” Alex gasped, finally realizing who it was that was talking to her.

Patrick maneuvered himself along the edge of the bank until he was standing on the huddle of rocks just beside Alex. “I followed your boot marks as far as I could, then I just fucking winged it. Vic’s losing his shit lookin’ for ya. Belch and Henry have been driving him around town, trying to calm him down. I’m not good with that shit, so I decided to look ‘round here for ya. And what’d’ya know,” he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his jacket pulled up to his elbows. Scratches and bruises littered his arms, most new, some old.

“Shit, I didn’t even realize how late it was. I just… I just wandered off like some god damned child,” Alex grumbled, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

“I didn’t take you as the reckless type if we’re being honest. If anything, that’s Vic. Did you see a chipmunk or a rabbit or somethin’?”

“No, no. Matter of fact, I didn’t see any damn animals. This place is weird, ‘Trick-” Patrick’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, but Alex was too busy overlooking the canal to notice. “Before I entered the treeline, I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t hear the barrens below, I couldn’t hear when you guys popped open the beer cans, or when Belch slammed his trunk closed. I could hardly hear you guys talking. Nothing. So I decided to come in here, see what it was like- and then all the noise came back. The birds, the water, your voices, my boots. Everything. And then this feel-”

“You’re ranting.”

“Did I ask?”

“Did I ask?” Patrick countered.

“Uh, yeah. You asked what I saw to make me come in here, to make me wander off. And I’m telling you. But whatever, go fuck yourself,” Alex grumbled, glaring at the taller boy, even though they stood at the same height due to the rocks. “Do you know how to get out of here?”

“Nope. But we’ve got all night to figure it out,” Patrick snickered, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingertips for Alex to take. With a scoff, Alex shoved her shoulder against Patrick’s, and made her way up the bank, waiting for Patrick to follow. With a shake of his head and a dark smirk, Patrick stalked his way up the bank, following after the red-head.

All Alex needed to do to get them out of the forest, was leave the feeling of the power behind. As the feeling weakened, and air began to get lighter, she knew they were heading in the right direction. And, soon enough, three hours later, they were passing through the treeline where everything quieted down once again.

“Nice going, Tracker,” Patrick snickered, causing Alex to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get you home,” Alex grumbled, pulling out her keys and unlocking her car. Now that the power had left her, she felt unnaturally weak and tired, and like she’d collapse at any second. But with heavy limbs, she trudged her way to the driver’s side of the car. She laid her hand on the cool metal for support once she got there, leaning all of her body weight onto that one arm as she did so.

“You alright over there?” Patrick questioned, his head peering over the car from his spot at the passenger side.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex whispered, her eyes shut. “Just tired for some reason. Give me a sec’.”

“Well, I mean, it’s probably like one in the morning. I wouldn’t doubt that you’re tired with all the traveling you’ve done. State wise, and forest wise,” Patrick joked to himself, but Alex didn’t laugh. “Give me the keys, I’ll drive. Vic’ll let me room with him.”

“No fucking way. You’re not touching my keys, and you’re not driving my car.”

“Well, there’s no way I’m letting your messed-up-ass drive us home. You’ll end up with us both in the canal, or wedged into a tree. Come on, Criss. You’re tired, it’s one o’clock in the morning, and you have school in the morning. If we don’t leave now, you won’t get enough sleep to function properly. You can sleep in the car, I’ll drive nice and slow for ya, make sure we don’t hit any bumps. If you don’t let me drive, we’ll have problems. You’ll be swervin’ on the road. You might hit something- or someone. It’ll take us longer to get you home because you’d need to drop me off, and then you’d be driving alone. And there’s a chance you’d get pulled over with how ya’d be drivin’. So just hand me the keys, and climb on in the passenger seat,” Patrick persuaded, his voice an unusual calm, mellow tone. Alex knew she was being manipulated right now, but god damn did this boy know how to string words together, because she found herself sliding her keys across the top of her black Mustang, a scowl on her tired face.

“If anything happens to my baby, I’ll run you over so many times, you’ll become one with the ground.”

“Sounds delightful. Now come on, get in,” Patrick grinned, pulling Alex around the front and carefully pushing her into the passenger side of the car. He got into the driver’s side and started the car, not even bothering with a buckle as he pulled out of the overlook. Once the car started moving, and the trees began whisking by, Alex was lulled to sleep, just as Patrick had promised.

Alex was woken up the next morning to the bang of her bedroom bursting open, and a body flinging itself onto her. Out of instinct, Alex screeched and shot her hands out, ready to strangle and attack whoever this person was. But when she noticed white hair and her familiar bed sheets, she relaxed her arms, and instead groaned in discomfort. “Vic, get off,” she whined, trying to shove at the boy.

“Where the hell were you last night?” Vic yelled, pushing himself onto his arms so he could stare down at his twin sister. His hair was sticking in every other direction, with his blue eyes a wild mess of concern.

“Roamin’.”

“Fuck you, that’s not a god damn answer.”

“Fuck you, mom. I went into the woods, and went a little farther than expected, and lost track of time. Patrick found me and brought me ho-. Wait… how the hell did I get in my room?” Alex suddenly wondered out loud, sitting up, nearly knocking heads with Vic.

“Patrick brought you inside. He woke me up this morning before he left to let me know that he found you last night,” Vic informed, rolling to the side of Alex and settling down on the bed.

“What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“What?” Alex yelled, her eyes wide with horror when she realized she was late for school. “God damn it, Vic, why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” she yelled, stumbling out of bed.

“Hey, chill out. You were out all night, you don’t need to go to school. Just rest today.”

“Is that really the mindset you’ve had the past five years? I’m not dying, I’m fine, I can go to school! Get your fucking ass up, Victor!”

“Wow, that boarding school really did a number on ya,” Vic grumbled, begrudgingly pulling himself from the comfortable sheets of his sister’s bed. Alex stared at him in confusion for a minute, her mind blanking on what boarding school he was talking about before she quickly remembered.

“Shove it. Just get ready, would ya? Third period starts in half an hour.”

“Yeah, whatever, Wanderer,” Vic muttered, his mood deflating at the thought of going to school without the gang. The boys were all down at Henry’s, where he was supposed to be once Alex woke up. But he knew he needed to go to school too, he just didn’t want to do it without the boys; something he hadn’t done in a long while.

Taglist: @kyloreneges @gracethegeek9902 @mads---world (TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN! If you want to be removed, please message me, or if I missed you!)

#patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter imagine #patrick hockstetter imagines #patrick hockstetter fanfic #patrick hockstetter fanfiction #It (2017)#it (2017) imagine #it (2017) imagines #it (2017) fanfiction #it (2017) fanfic #patrick hockstetter x oc #bowers gang #vic criss #victor criss #henry bowers #belch huggins #bowers gang imagine

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

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Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again

The mummy reappears, but under circumstances that raise more questions and answer absolutely none - and our heroes already had no answers.

Sir Stephen wasn’t the only one who’d had a particularly nasty shock. Natasha may not have seen the first man disappear, but she’d definitely seen Allen’s reaction to it, and had noticed how he refused to take the gas mask off the one who looked like Barnes for fear it would happen again. So in the afternoon, while Sam and Clint went to an arcade and Sharon took Sir Stephen to the Louvre to try to distract him, Natasha took a cup of coffee up to their room for Allen.

He had been gazing mindlessly out the window at the boats on the canal. She set the cup down on the sill and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It was still something she had to decide to do and then make herself, feeling more like part of an undercover identity than something she would do naturally.

“I know Sir Steve’s upset,” she said. “How are you?”

Allen shrugged. “It’s like he said. I just keep seeing it. I wonder if I’ll do that when I die.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Natasha, and it was a bit of a shock. Allen wasn’t quite a real person, he was something she’d constructed by accident. He felt like flesh and blood. He ate and slept and remembered an entire lifetime that had never happened. He hadn’t vanished when they’d shut the Grail down, so it didn’t seem likely that he would just disintegrate when he died – but when Barnes had touched her hand, Nat hadn’t noticed anything odd about him, either. Was there any way to know?

Maybe there was. “The blood on the cloth vanished when the rest of him did,” she said. “You bleed and it hangs around – I’ve seen it.”

At that, Allen actually managed a small smile. “That kind of helps, actually.”

Nat patted his shoulder. “I think we need to do some research,” she told him. “Want to find a library?”

“Research on the mummy?” he asked.

“No,” said Nat. “On true crime. I want to know if anything like this ever happened before, and if so, what was the motive behind it.”

Just a couple of blocks to the southeast was the Bibliothèque Crimée, which seemed appropriate enough. It was a modern building with blue and white tiled walls and a rainbow-painted railing at the sidewalk. Nat settled down with her laptop at one of the pale wooden tables, and connected to the library wi-fi to read up on art heists.

Over the course of the afternoon they dug up news stories about art thefts in France, the UK, and the Americas – and not one of them was anything like what had happened to the mummy. Art thieves took small things, easily transported and hidden, and ones that were not too famous unless they were planning to ask for a ransom. The sarcophagus of Sitamun was the exact opposite of that: huge, unwieldy, and instantly recognizable.

“What are you thinking?” Allen asked.

“I’m thinking it had to be a heist for hire,” said Nat, resting her chin on her hands as she scrolled through an article in French about the theft. “Somebody out there wanted it specifically, saw the opportunity, and hired Barnes and his brother, or whoever they were, to get it. The question is, what do they want it for? The sarcophagus valuable, but they can’t sell it or show it off for fear of being reported.”

“Maybe it’s a very complicated murder attempt,” Allen suggested. “Maybe they’re going to give it to somebody they secretly hate and see if the curse works.”

Nat chuckled. “Now there’s a plot for a heist movie!” she said.

“Or maybe it’s something in this.” Allen poked the newspaper photograph of the sarcophagus, indicating the inscriptions. “Maybe there’s some special magic or something in there? They want to learn how the curse works and use it themselves?”

Natasha hadn’t thought of that. “Somebody’s gotta have a translation,” she said. A google search was unable to find it, so they emailed the curator of antiquities at the Victoria and Albert Museum to ask.

Much later, when they were back at the hotel, Natasha’s phone dinged to tell her the reply had arrived. The contents, however, were disappointing. All that was written on the sarcophagus was the usual list of Princess Sitamun’s titles, her relationships to various other members of the royal family, and some standard blessings for the afterlife. There was no hint of a curse, or of anything unexpected at all. Nat finished reading it for the second time, then set her phone on the bottom bunk next to her and flopped back onto the mattress.

“No good?” Allen guessed.

“Nothing,” said Natasha. “What the hell did anybody want with that mummy badly enough to pull such a dramatic stunt?”

“Maybe just the thrill of the chase,” said Allen.

“It’s almost looking that way,” groaned Nat. “The thing about Barnes is still bothering me, too. There are hundreds of guys named Jim Barnes in the United States, so it’s not like I can track down just one of them easily. I looked through the Times website and they’ve got two guys by that name on their staff, but neither is a reporter and neither is in Europe right now.”

“So we know he was an imposter, and practically nothing else,” said Allen. “That’s a shame.”

“Don’t start,” Nat warned him.

“Start what?” he asked innocently.

“Teasing me about almost making a date,” said Nat, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. “I’m still mad that he tricked me. I don’t want to hear about it, or about grandchildren, or any of that stuff. You’re not allowed to be that kind of father. Understand?”

Allen looked startled, but he nodded meekly. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said.

It was very early in the morning on their third day in Paris when Nat was awakened by her mobile phone ringing. She opened her eyes when the tone began to play, then buried her face in the pillow and groaned softly.

The jingle played a second time, and from the bunk above she heard Allen ask in a sleepy voice, “you gonna get that, Ginger Snap?”

“Yeah,” she grumbled, and reached to pick it up off the table at the end of the bunk. Nat had a very short list of people she would be willing to answer the phone for at this hour, but the caller turned out to be one of them – it was Fury. She swore under her breath, then pressed the button and put the phone to her ear.

“I hope it’s a reasonable hour where you are,” she said.

“No, because I’m still in England,” he replied, “but I figured you guys needed to know as soon as possible – they found the mummy.”

Nat was suddenly wide awake. “They did? Where?”

From the bunk by the window she heard Clint mutter something, followed by, “what kind of stupid time is it?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you outright because they don’t want sightseers gathering,” said Fury, “but since it was stolen by disappearing guys with the same face and all, I asked the Gendarmerie to let you take a look at it. They’re sending a car, so you’d better get dressed.”

“We don’t know what was going on with those men,” Nat protested, although she was already getting out of bed.

“Nobody else does either,” said Fury, “but you’ve dealt with stuff like this before.”

“No, we haven’t!” said Nat. The Grail had been completely different.

She wasn’t going to pass the opportunity up, though, so after hanging up she reached up to give Allen a shake, then crossed the room to wake Sir Stephen.

“Everybody up,” she ordered.

“Why?” asked Clint.

“They found the mummy,” said Nat.

“So?” he asked, from the top window bunk. “It’s not like she’s getting any deader.”

Fortunately everybody else was a little more enthusiastic. They dragged Clint out of bed with the promise of espresso, and there was just enough time for everybody to wash their faces and throw on some deodorant before the Gendarmerie cars pulled up outside the hostel. The French police looked just as annoyed at having to get up before dawn as the CAAP, and nobody spoke much as they drove out into the countryside for what felt like hours.

In fact, it was hours – by the time they arrived, the sun was coming up. They pulled over to the side of the country road, just above a steep slope down into a wooded valley. Through the trees, Nat could just barely see yellow crime scene tape.

“There,” one of the cops said, pointing. He had a heavy accent and somehow managed to imply that this was at least a third of his English.

They had to be very careful climbing down the hill. It had been raining overnight, and the autumn grass and fallen leaves were slippery and treacherous. Clint would have fallen on his face and slid the whole way if Nat hadn’t been in time to grab him, and a moment later she had to pass him on to Sir Stephen so that she could take Allen’s hand before he lost his footing on the slick ground. There were several scrapes and bruises before they finally came to the tape, and ducked under it.

From the top of the hill, the yellow tape had been visible through a break in the trees. Now that they were up close, Nat could see that it was literally a break: branches had been smashed by something heavy crashing into them. The fallen thing had rolled down the hill, hit the trees, and then shattered on a boulder in the middle of the small stream at the bottom.

It was the sarcophagus of Princess Sitamun.

“Oh, no!” Natasha exclaimed. She hurried forward the last few steps, climbed over a broken tree trunk, and pushed aside a white-suited forensics specialist who tried to stop her.

She had hoped for a moment that it was some trick of light and shadow that made the sarcophagus look broken, but it wasn’t. The lid had snapped in two and was lying in the gravel on the shoreline, while the body was broken into three large pieces and countless tiny ones, leaning on the boulder and strewn across the shallow stream bed. In the middle of it all, half-in and half-out of the water, was the mummy itself, broken in pieces and twisted almost beyond recognition as a human body. Nobody would be getting any DNA, or anything else, out of it now.

“Madame!” the specialist said. “You must not touch!”

“Non, pas vraiment,” Nat agreed, drawing her hand back. “Je m’excuse.” The stream had probably already washed a lot of evidence away and her poking around wouldn’t help. The police had to figure out who had done this terrible thing to such a treasure and punish them for it… but whoever it was, she thought, when she found the guilty parties Natasha would break their necks herself! The spy in her had been angry yesterday. Today, the archaeologist was livid.

She must have looked it, too, because as she rejoined the others back at the tape, they all moved away from her – except for Allen, who put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

“So somebody took the mummy and the sarcophagus,” he said, “and then just threw it away? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No,” Natasha agreed. “None of this makes sense.” They had to have missed something important… but what?

#fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanov #sharon carter #sam wilson #clint barton

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jphbk1982 · 7 years

Text

Chapter 6 of "Open Window" Green "You see anyone?" Kimberly asked as she pushed a branch out of her face and glanced up the path to Jason who was approaching her from the other direction. "Nope.. other than mine security." Jason responded as he closed the distance between Kim and himself on the path in the woods behind the mines they had been searching. "You think maybe one of them have it?" Kim questioned as she blew a loose hair out of her face and glanced around at their surroundings. "I watched them for awhile, they seemed to be going along as normal.." Jason replied as too looked around. "It's getting dark, we should probably meet up with the others." "Yeah." Kimberly agreed as they began to walk down the path that would take them back to the mines. Kimberly looked over at Jason as they walked. "What.. what are we going to do if someone has the coin?" "That's a good question.. I mean I don't think we can just ask for it back." Jason answered as he considered their dilemma. "Maybe if we suit up we could." Kim surmised. "Maybe.." Jason agreed as he turned to face Kim. "Do you think that person could.." Kim hesitated. "Take on the powers?" Jason finished for her. "Yeah." Kim responded. "I don't really know.. but Alpha seemed concerned about it." Jason answered. They walked in silence for a moment before he continued. "The real question is... if it isn't Rita, then how did the coin come to be here and where is she?" "That's two questions technically." Kim teased with a laugh. Jason chuckled as well and nodded. "But yeah I wonder about that too." "Maybe.. the other guys found something." Jason said as they exited the trees and came to the rocky surface of the mines. He glanced up at the rock to see the group gathered around, clearly awaiting their arrival. Jason and Kimberly made their way up the hill to stand with the group. "Anything?" Jason asked. "Not a thing." Trini answered. "The signal was getting weaker... so whoever had it must have already been moving away from the area." Billy spoke up. "So what do we do?" Zack inquired. "We can't just let someone run around with one of those coins can we?" "I mean.. I'm not sure what choice we have." Jason responded. "I'm going to head back down and see if we can find out where it is now." Billy answered before he leaped off the ledge. The rest of the group looked among themselves. Jason was the first to follow with Kimberly close behind. Trini started to jump until Zack took her by the hand. "Hey.. hold up." Zack said softly as Trini turned back to face him. "What's up?" Trini inquired, intrigued by his demeanor. "I um.." Zack paused as he searched for words. "I wanted to ask you about something." "Shoot." Trini responded. Zack smiled at her before he continued. "I heard... well.. you.. a boyfriend would not be out of the question for you right?" Zack asked. Trini cocked her head slightly at him before smiling. "No. It would not." Trini responded. "Why?" "Oh I was just curious..." Zack answered. He and Trini locked eyes for a moment before he continued. "Are you and Tommy.." "No." Trini replied. "Because I saw you talking." Zack clarified. "So we have to be dating because we talked?" Trini teased him. "No.. no.. of course not.. I.." Zack started to defend himself before he saw the grin on her face and he just shook his head. He glanced at the ledge and back to her. "Come on crazy girl." "After you." Trini responded as she watched Zack do a flip off the ledge. She laughed and followed behind him. (****) "I hate that we can't pinpoint the thing." Jason exclaimed with frustration clearly evident in his voice as he ran a hand through his hair and leaned up against the side of his truck. He glanced around at the other kids filing out of school and heading towards their vehicles parked around him. He turned to Kim to see her gaze focused on one direction. He turned to see Tommy walking out of the building. "Jason.." She spoke. He turned to her waiting for her to continue. "What do you think of Tommy?" "I haven't given him a lot of thought lately, with all the stuff going on." Jason answered. "I mean, your general impression of him." Kimberly clarified. "Oh.. well I guess he's okay, a bit of a loner, but Trini seems to like him so that makes him okay in my book." Jason responded. "She does." Kim said with a nod. "Zack doesn't like him." "He say something to you too?" Jason asked. "Yep." Kim responded. "He says he gets a bad vibe from him." "I told him he was just jealous." Jason stated, prompting a laugh from Kim. "You did not." Kim said turning to him with an incredulous look on her face. "Oh I did." Jason responded. "I mean.. I'm not the only one that sees that he likes Trini right?" "No.. no you are not." Kim said as she crossed her arms and leaned up against the truck beside of Jason. "But do you get a bad vibe from him?" "No, not really." Jason responded. "You?" "Maybe." Kim answered. Jason turned to her with a quizzical look on his face. She turned to meet his expression and shrugged her shoulders. "I can't explain it." "So you don't want to befriend him?" Jason asked. "I didn't say that.." Kim answered. "But I think we should be careful... we.. we all gotta stick together you know." "I know." Jason responded as he put his arm around Kim. She leaned her head onto his shoulder for a moment before turning back up to him. "We'll be careful." (****) "Hey Tommy." Zack called out as he approached the taller teen who was just about to get in his car. Tommy turned around to face him. "Zack." Tommy returned the greeting. "What's up?" "I was just wondering.." Zack said as he stood in front of Tommy. "About?" Tommy questioned. "Well.. the other day at the mines.." Zack began. "Do you go up there a lot?" "I wouldn't say a lot, but I do like to go from time to time." Tommy answered. "Oh.. hey.. you ever seen anything weird or out of the unusual there?" Zack asked. Tommy's hand instinctively came to rest on his jean pocket. "Unusual?" Tommy asked. "You mean like a group of friends appearing to be about to jump to their death?" "Other than that." Zack said with a nervous laugh. "No." Tommy responded with a small laugh of his own. "You sure?" Zack continued. Tommy's laugh abruptly stopped. "What's this about?" Tommy inquired, finding himself becoming more agitated than he felt he should be at the teen in front of him. "Just all of the weirdness going on lately..." Zack attempted a cover. "I haven't seen anything." Tommy stated. He turned to get back in his car. He saw Trini across the lot approaching Jason and Kimberly. They made eye contact and she waved at him. Tommy waved back before turning back to Zack. "If I see anything unusual I'll be sure to let you know." "You do that." Zack replied as his eyes went from Trini back to Tommy who shut the door to his car, started it and sped off. (****) Jason jumped down off a small ledge and glanced around making sure no one was in the area. He walked up to the piece of rock where the team had originally found their power coins. He ran a hand along the smooth rock and examined the surface. He had decided to come back up here before nightfall to see if possibly he could find any trace of Rita or the missing coin. He knew Billy was with Alpha once again looking for it, but he hated just waiting around for results. "Where are you?" Jason said absentmindedly to himself before he heard some rocks falling nearby and the sound of someone crying out in pain. Jason ran across the quarry and around a bin to see that piece of loose rock had slid down the hill and fallen on top of someone. He could only make out their legs as that was all that was sticking out of the rubble. Jason quickly ran over and without giving it a thought he lifted the rock pile off of the person, expecting the worse. He rolled the person over and gasped quietly when he saw who it was. "Tommy?" Jason examined him for signs of life. He felt for a pulse and found one. He saw a deep gash on Tommy's forehead and Jason pulled off his outer shirt and placed it against the wound to stop the bleeding. He fumbled into his pocket for his cell phone to call for help when Tommy began to cough. Jason turned his attention down to him. He saw his eyes open and after a couple of seconds they fixated on Jason. "Jason?" Tommy said softly as he began to lift his arm up to his head. "Hey.. maybe don't move." Jason instructed him. "My head hurts." Tommy stated as his hand came to rest on the shirt Jason was using to stop the bleeding. "I'd say it does man.. you are lucky to be alive." Jason responded as he glanced nearby at the boulder he had tossed aside. Tommy took a deep breath and Jason turned his attention back to him. He placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder as the injured teen attempted to sit up. "I wouldn't do that." "I'm okay." Tommy responded, his appearance contradictory to his words. "I don't think.." Jason began, but stopped as Tommy sat up and looked around. His eyes fell on the boulder. They then turned back to Jason. "How did you get that off of me?" Tommy questioned. "I don't know.. leverage I guess." Jason lied. Tommy placed his hand over the shirt on his head and Jason allowed him to hold it. He held it for a moment before removing it. Jason was shocked as he saw that the wound had stopped bleeding and already seemed noticeably smaller than it had been. Tommy saw the way Jason was looking at him. "What is it?" Tommy asked as he moved to stand up and Jason stood up along with him. "That wound seemed much worse when I got here." Jason answered as he gestured toward's Tommy's head. "Oh.. I guess you misjudged it." Tommy said as he began to casually dust himself off. "You sure you are okay?" Jason asked. "We should still get you to a hospital." "No. I'm okay." Tommy said as he swatted Jason's hand off of his shoulder. Jason stepped back and furrowed his brow at him. "Sorry." "It's cool.. but you may have a concussion." Jason replied. "I've had one before.. I don't now." Tommy said as he glanced around for a moment. He started to make his way out of the rubble and when he was clear he turned back to Jason. "You stay here and the security will find you." "Yeah." Jason agreed as he followed Tommy back out of the main quarry. The two made their way up a hill and began to approach the area where Jason had parked his truck. Jason turned to Tommy. "What were you doing when the rocks fell on you?" "Checking my messages." Tommy answered as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and examined it to see if it had survived the accident. "I mean.. in the mines in general." Jason clarified. Tommy glanced at Jason out of the corner of his eye. "Am I going to get interrogated every time I come up here by one of you?" Tommy asked. "What are you talking about?" Jason asked in return. "Zack was asking me all kinds of questions about me coming up here." Tommy elaborated. "It's like you guys think you own the place." "No.. of course not." Jason responded as his truck came into view. He saw Tommy's car beside of it. "I can't speak for Zack, but I guess I was just curious." "Yeah.. well I guess I'm a little curious about why you are always up here too." Tommy retorted. "You're head must need a lot of clearing." "What's up with you?" Jason asked as he stopped. Tommy stopped as well and shrugged. "Do you have a problem with me?" "No." Tommy answered. He felt weirdly angry at Jason, much like he had Zack earlier but he couldn't understand why. "Maybe I do have a concussion or something." "Maybe.. want me to drive you to the hospital?" Jason questioned. "Nah.. I'm good." Tommy dismissed the offer. "Thanks though." "Don't mention it." Jason responded as he watched Tommy get into his car. (****) "And he was okay?" Trini asked with concern in her voice. "He seemed to be." Jason responded as glanced across his room at Trini sitting next to Kimberly on his bed. They had been hanging out when Jason had texted Kim asking her to come over, once he found out she was with Trini he had suggested she come too. "But he shouldn't be right?" Kim asked. "I mean.. I wouldn't expect so, not with the weight of what fell on him. "So what are you thinking?" Trini asked as she turned to Kim. "What if he found the coin?" Kim asked looking back between the two. "I mean.. when we found ours, remember we survived being hit by a train." "True." Jason said as he leaned back against wall and folded his arms. "I don't know guys.." Trini said as she stood up and walked over to the window. She turned back to them. "He would have told one of us.." "I don't know.. I mean we aren't that close to him." Kimberly rebutted. "If anyone he would have maybe told you." Jason added. "He hasn't said a thing about it." Trini stated. "Maybe I should ask him." "What exactly would you say?" Jason inquired. Trini sighed and sat down on the window ledge. "I'm not sure." Trini replied. "Just if he has found anything up there I guess." "That would create a bunch of questions on his end that I'm not sure you could answer." Jason countered. "I guess you are right bossman." Trini relented. "But what do we do?" "I think all we can do is just continue to befriend him and if he has it.. maybe he'll eventually disclose it to one of us.. probably you." Jason answered. Kim turned to Trini and smiled at her. "We aren't that close." Trini said. "I think he likes you the best of all of us." Kim stated. "But we'll all just try to be friendly to him." "Yeah... and we still got to continue to look for it elsewhere too." Jason added before his cell phone rang. He grabbed it off the shelf near him and answered it. "Billy what's up." Kimberly and Trini watched as Jason nodded and a concerned look came over his face. After a couple of minutes he placed the phone down. "What is it?" Trini asked. "We got to get to the ship." Jason said as he made a move towards the window. "What's going on?" Kim asked as followed him. Jason turned to face the two of them. "Billy said they have picked up more activity with the coin, but this time it's strong enough to make Zordon think it could be Rita after all." Without another word all three filed out of his window in a hurry. (****) Tommy glanced at his reflection in his bedroom mirror. He ran a finger tentatively over the wound on his forehead. Much to his amazement it had almost completely closed up already. He squinted his eyes as he examined it and as he was doing so, something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he spun around to see he was not alone in the room. "I think you have something that belongs to me." Rita Repulsa said as she approached him from the other side of his room. Tommy started to speak but found himself up against the wall with the intruder's hand around his throat. "Let me see it." Tommy put both of his hands on hers as she rummaged around in his pocket until she produced the green coin. She held it up and examined it while Tommy fought to break her grip. Her smile widened as the presence of the coin seemed to close up various wounds on her body. She inhaled sharply and then turned her attention back to Tommy. "I should kill you." She said coldly. Tommy's eyes widened as fear set in. Rita raised her hand to deliver a blow to his head. Tommy raised his hands to cover up and suddenly he felt something hit the palm of his hand. He closed his fist around it and immediately recognized it was the coin. He opened his eyes to see a look of disbelief on Rita's face. She examined her own empty hand and then turned to see the coin that had been pulled from her now resting in Tommy's grip. "How?" She released her grip on Tommy's throat and he slumped to the ground. Rita stepped back and cocked her head as she examined the teen in front of her. Tommy stood up slowly, with his grip tightening around the coin. He could feel energy surging off of it and going through his body. He straighted out and met Rita's gaze. She moved to grab him by the throat once more. But with reflexes that shocked them both, Tommy's hand came up and knocked hers away before she could reach him. "Stop." Tommy said as looked at his hand and then back up at Rita. She took a couple steps back. "My coin..." She began. "It's bonding with you." "What are you talking about?" Tommy asked before holding up the coin. "This is yours?" "It was." Rita answered as she eyed it. She turned her gaze back to Tommy. "It will be again." "I don't.." Tommy began but before he could finish Rita had grabbed him and flung him out the nearby open window. He landed in his back yard with a hard thud. He felt some breath leave him and the coin fell from his hand to lie a few feet away from him. He reached for it, but felt a sharp pain in his wrist as Rita's boot came down hard on it. He saw her bend to retrieve the coin and maneuvered himself in such a way to kick her legs out from under her. Much to his surprise, based off how strong she clearly was, she went down upon impact and he retrieved the coin and got to his feet. "Boy.. you do not know what you are doing." Rita scolded him as she recovered her footing. "Don't let the power go to your head.. you can't beat me." "I don't want to beat you, I just want you leave me alone." Tommy responded as he looked around for a way out. "I'll leave you alone if you hand the coin over to me." Rita stated as she opened her hand and stuck it out to Tommy. Tommy glanced down at the coin and back up to her. "How do I know you won't just kill me if I give you this." Tommy questioned. "You have my word." Rita replied. "I saw what you did here.. I don't think you should have this." Tommy stated. "It is mine." Rita rebutted. Tommy felt a pull on the coin from his hand and it flew out and stopped in mid air between the two of them. Rita seemed agitated the the coin had stopped and did not come to her. Tommy opened his hand back up and the coin flew back to him. "If it is yours.. why did it come to me?" Tommy replied with a small grin. Rita started to lunge at him but she stopped suddenly and backed up. "No..." She said quietly as Tommy glanced down at his hand to see it was now covered in what appeared to be armor. He felt of his chest and could feel his whole body was covered in the same material. He had seen this once before and the realization hit him as to what exactly was happening to him. He glanced up to see Rita approaching him slowly. "I wouldn't come any closer." He warned as he dropped into a defensive stance. She stopped upon his words and suddenly started laughing maniacally. He straightened up and examined her curiously. "What?" "Oh child..." She responded as her laughter subsided. She continued her approach and was now standing directly in front of him. She grabbed his throat. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. He rared his fist back and began to throw a strike but found his body not cooperating with his mind. Suddenly his mind followed suit and he found he no longer wanted to hit her. He dropped his fist and looked at his hands with confusion. "What's wrong Tommy?" "I can't.. I don't understand." He answered. "Don't you?" She questioned as she ran a hand along the green armor on his chest. "I told you that the coin was mine.. it may have bonded with you, but I still control it." "What are you saying?" He asked. "I control it... I control you." She whispered with a grin on her face. "You will do my bidding... at first you won't want to... but in time... you will." "No.." Tommy said as he shook his head. He felt trapped in a nightmare and wanted to wake up. "Yes.. you will be my Green Ranger." She said with a laugh. She then held her arm out and opened her hand. Tommy watched as she closed her eyes and seemed to be concentrating. He heard a whirring sound in the distance and saw something approaching them. Suddenly just as soon as it came into view, it was in her grip. She opened her eyes and looked over the gold staff approvingly. Tommy eyed it before turning his attention back to her. "I don't want.." Tommy began. "Hush.. it doesn't matter what you want." Rita shushed him before she moved the staff closer to him. Tommy wanted to run but found that he couldn't move as the staff came closer to his chest. He winced as it touched the glowing center of his armor. He felt a new rush of energy and then suddenly there was a bright flash in front of him. He opened his eyes and looked down to see Rita was running her hand over a new addition to his armor. "What is this?" Tommy asked as he ran his eyes along it following her hand. "It's a gift from me to you." Rita said with a smile as she admired the new shield. "There are five of them.. one of you... I wanted to help even the odds." "Five.." Tommy stated, confused. "Yes.. five.. five Rangers for you to destroy." She said as her eyes began to glow green. Tommy could feel his eyes burning at the same time. Suddenly he felt a strong desire to do just that. Destroy.

#power rangers 2017 #jimberly #kimberly hart #jason scott #tommy oliver #billy cranston #zack taylor #trini kwan #fanfic

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