#scav feels shitty

[sulfur1c-4cid]

s/h vent/rant.

I just had a dream (shocking) that I had gotten school supplies and I won't say what just in case but I knew I could use one of them to cut. and I felt so stressed because I knew I wanted to and yet I didn't get rid of it because it was so tempting. I keep hoarding things that I could definitely hurt myself with and I feel kinda pissed like I can't make up my mind. Do I want to or not? I don't want to concern or disappoint the people who actually care about me and know me but I have a hard time caring for myself. I haven't done it in like 5 months which I guess I'm proud of but I know it's not going to last because that's just the shit I want for whatever reason. I don't know why I still want to cut after all this time and it makes me feel sick because I'm supposed to be better, right? You haven't cut yourself in months, why are you still complaining about this? I feel so fucking torn and annoyed. I hate that what I have is too dull even though I haven't even tried (got close and wanted to, ofc.) in months because it's not going to make it worthwhile. It still hurts but it doesn't bleed, what's the point. I'm so tired of myself

not to fucking mention my book project. this shit is all my fault and I still complain. what the fuck is wrong with me

it should be easy and it's not and I don't know why. I hate it so much. I hate myself I hate my school, my ela is fine I guess but I'm just so overwhelmed all the time to the point where I actually can't care about it anymore. I don't know if I'm gonna get through this year because I'm just so fucking tired of all of this

im still staying for the people I care about and the people that care about me (which is. surprising.) I just feel drained at this point though. I want to be done but I can't because now I actually have things and people I need to stay for. so ty for that./gen

sorry

edit: yoo that 5 months didn't last at all gotdamn🔥

[gayass-ery]

don't you hate it when you're going through shit and then you realize it's actually AFAB Time™ and then you feel like you were being a bitch over nothing

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #1: Steer

Tires thudded over the curb. The engine backfired. Bullets clanked against the frame. And Dugald was driving like his life depended on it.

He had never expected to be put behind the wheel, honestly. At least- Not in the first few days of knowing the driver. Or the car. It felt impersonal, you know? You didn’t drive someone else’s car until they trusted you with it or they were dead. And neither were particularly applicable right now- But he supposed the latter might happen if he didn’t make the next turn. The Thorton skipped over another curb, the side scraped against a wall, the owner hollered her complaint over the sound of returning gunfire. He white knuckled the steering wheel. Another bullet ricocheted off the frame. Another was sent in return. He looked in the rearview mirror. Scavs. It had to be scavs. One clear memory in his head- of a few, at least- and it was in a high speed chase that he could remember how he felt about scavs. Probably not an uncommon feeling towards them. I mean, who could like butchers who’d sell you for every bit of metal you have in you- right down to the fillings in your teeth? He thumped over another curb as he swung the truck around into an alleyway. Honestly it wasn’t surprising that his only memories of them were negative. The sound of the mirrors scraping against brick and metal was just as evocative of their chop shops as the actual sound of them screaming behind them. How much was he worth? Hell, how much was this gal worth? Between the two of them they probably had a pretty decent score. At least he had a feeling the car wasn’t what they were after.

The car groaned, same as him, as he swung it wide around the corner and back onto the road. Potholes thumped the suspension as he pointed the nose towards the distant promise of an easier time, an easier escape- The only highway ramp not currently blocked by NCPD or some Maelstrom popup… Gathering. Gathering was the best way to put it, he thought. Really the only problem with all the thoughts before, of course, as he stomped on the pedal and listened to the automatic transmission whine in horror at what he was making it do- Well. This thing wasn’t exactly going to go zero to sixty fast enough to escape the scavs’ slipshod dragsters. Whether from shitty parts, old age, or factory limiters- “WALKER-” She dropped back down into the passenger seat as a grenade soared past the car and landed in a heap of garbage. It exploded as he swerved around it- much to her and the car’s complaint- and he felt another backfire take them down a gear. The look she gave him was wild, frenzied even, and frankly he didn’t appreciate the unspoken complaints about his driving. Not his fault he wasn’t carrying any guns at the moment. Not his fault that the car couldn’t go above sixty and take corners without screaming in agony. What had she been doing to this thing? Or, rather, hadn’t been doing? It’s not his fault that he couldn’t make it go faster. Not…

He looked in the rear view. They were getting closer. The Thorton was blowing smoke. Slowing down. If he could get on the highway it still wouldn’t be fast enough in the straightaways to get out of their territory. He was pretty sure they were about to blow a tire, too, to make it all that much more palatable. They’d be able to catch them in a heartbeat. It’s a Thorton. He stared in the rearview.

Chop shops. Metal. Chrome. Thortons. He looked down at the steering wheel. It was a Thorton. Scavs weren’t after the car- In a fit of memory-induced insanity-

Dugald gripped the console with both hands, his fingers slipping into grooves meant for technician tools. Augmented hands and arms would have to do for the moment as he groaned… and tore the module right off and into his lap. Within the same second, in a memory as rote as blood flowing from a wound, his arm slipped open in all but the same way to expose a monofilament blade that sprung cleanly from his forearm and out under his palm. And then he jammed it straight into the ECU plug. Sparks flew. Chop shop. Metal. Chrome. It was a Thorton. The only difference between any damned model of the thing was the limiter the factory put on it and the armor the customer slapped on it. Limiters could be removed. Engines could be tuned. Not in real time, no, never in real time. Not for anyone sane at least. Not for anyone who wasn’t currently being shot at and thoroughly invested in staying as alive as possible for the next 30 minutes- give or take a few. Oh but that’s what he remembered. The Scavs. The chop shops. Oh he remembered it all.

It was right as they hit the ramp that the Thorton screamed- no, roared- to life like a truck of its caliber likely never had before. The volume of if deafening, the rattling of it frightening, the speed of it exhilarating; and all the while Dugald stared dead at the the road while his arms twitched in time with the engine’s pistons. From zero to sixty. Sixty to one hundred. One hundred to one hundred twenty. Pretty sure they just put some sports cars to shame. Jerking the car between what few other drivers were still out on this side of the city. It was easy enough to tell when they weren’t being followed anymore. The fireball of a collision not even a quarter mile behind them. But he kept it going. Taking highway turns like they were hairpins, taking ramps like they were jumps, throwing the Thorton down the highway like a rocket that might just explode if he stopped it. He didn’t check on the state of his passenger. The speed would shut her up for now. His driving would shut her up for the next hour after that.

It wasn’t until they were out of the city lights that he finally let it slow back down to a crawl. Or, rather, that the car finally gave up. No amount of coaxing- no amount of manual control, really- could get it back to speed. She was tired. So was he. …Aaand he was being yelled at.

He leaned back in the seat as he retracted the blade back into his arm. He didn’t bother listening.

[orphiceonian]

˗ˏˋSILVERV WEEK: SACRIFICE´ˎ˗

read on ao3

written for @silverv-week

This is what the countless sacrifices were for.

The nights spent without sleep, the countless bullet wounds she had pulled from her body and the days spent fighting against the ever present pain that sparked through her body.

This was why he had pushed her into the well. Why she had dragged herself out of the tepid waters of Mikoshi’s well and fought her way out of the tower.

Why she mowed down any and every Arasaka guard that stood in her way. Why she didn’t care how she looked walking out of the tower, mantis blades covered in blood as MAXTAC trained their guns on her.

It was all for this.

She’s out on the balcony—their balcony—skimming through pages of data for a job. The balcony was covered with plants she’d spend hours tending to during her recovery. Vik had suggested she keep her hands busy during recovery and with coding off the table in order to let her mind rest she’d resorted to plant care.

It had been Kerry who had bought her the first plant. A bonsai tree that she didn’t want to know how many eddies he had spent on it. He had someone come over and teach her how to care for it. How she had to be kind and gentle to it—just like she had to be kind and gentle to herself.

It didn’t take her long to understand how to care for the organic artefact. Plants were like computers—data rushing from their roots to their stems telling their leaves to turn upwards and face the sunlight. She understands computers, understands how lines of code can be used to build pretty much anything. A corporation, a war, even a person.

And it’s the person she sacrificed the most for.

“You almost done with those data packs?” Johnny’s voice carries out the doorway and a split second later he steps out onto the balcony.

“Almost, just sorting through the last of it.” She hums back and taps the keys of her deck with a practised ease. She doesn’t see him walk over to her until he’s leaning over her, from behind—chin resting on her head and arms draped around her neck.

It’s nice, being able to finally touch without the static interference between them. The gentle touch of him tucking a hair behind her ear or her brushing away a stray piece of lint that had become stuck to his shirt. It was those small insignificant moments of contact she had taken for granted with others that were now the alphabet to their love language.

It had been twelve months post Mikoshi when he walked back into her life. He had shown up at Vik’s; hair cut short and still sporting his signature chrome arm—albeit a militech one.

She had thought it was a cruel joke played on her but her broken mind. A joke she had greeted with a punch and a string of curses when she realised her hand had made contact with the man she thought was a figment.

Since then it had been months of learning to live outside each other's heads. Sometimes it still feels like they are connected—she can feel his presence in the back of her mind even when he’s not in the room.

Their symbiosis had become most helpful when it came to gigs. They both knew one another’s skills and weaknesses and worked to cover one another—working in perfect harmony to clear out scavs and pull data from corporations.

She taps a few more keys on the deck before disconnecting her link and setting the clunky device aside, “There, all done and on its way to Rogue.”

“So I’ve got you all to myself?” He hums and leans down to plant a scattering of kisses on her neck.

“Hmm you know you do.” She laughs lightly and rolls her head to the side as he continues his gentle kisses downwards.

This is what the sacrifices had been for.

A happy ending in the city of shitty ones.

[gunpowder-arti]

actually yknow what. tumblr gets the arti rant

partially copypasted from something i said a while back. on discord

first and foremost, know this: i Do Not Like fanon arti. ofc no hate to anyone who does, or who writes them more sympathetic, but. alright, first of all, i think i need to bring up the fact that they're the Only slugcat who is consistently, broadly hc'd as female?? which is. nothing wrong with reading them as such (hell, the dating sim writes them that way) but. considering that their whole Story has to do with Parenthood and all that it's kind of. a little bit ehhh to me that they're the Only one.

and then there's. right. i find that the broad interpretation of them is largely sympathetic, which i am Not a fan of. i've seen people who interpret them as not killing people but,, that is clearly not the intention of their campaign. i very much interpret the scavs as sapient and tbh i feel like if you interpret them as Just Animals that is kind of. willful denial of canon at best but that's a whole other thing that i will Not go off about right now

uhh, either way. their actions, as portrayed in canon, were unjustified and unjustifiable. like, i call them a war criminal because um. that is what collective punishment is !! i just. they are a hypocritical mass-murdering war criminal and that is part of what makes them so compelling to me. once again no hate to anyone who reads them as sympathetic but it's. ehh. like rain world is ofc heavily up to interpretation but it reads kind of as,, people justifying their actions because they're a player character?? i guess. and im not saying Arti Likers are Problematique™ hell i like them!! but i like them as a mass-murdering war criminal and the fanon good arti is. boring, almost, to me. also iirc it's also kind of implied that they're the reason we don't see elite scavs again until Saint's time [or ever it's been a while] which has pretty bad implications as to the scale of their rampage and. i don't even know if this makes sense but

i would say arti is the most villainous character in rain world, as I see it--they killed on purpose, many times over. theyre awful and shitty and violent and horribly species-ist and a genocidal murder and they are so so fascinating and yet . the fucking fanon is just 'scary girlboss and/or sadgirl mother' and im not even going to lie it's so fucking boring. let women be villainous

look it's all up to interpretation ofc ofc but . i do find certain interpretations to be in poor taste, or at least just... uninteresting !! and fucking . also i genuinely Hate 'arti adopts pebbles' for a few reasons. mostly the above but also a couple other things which i will Not go off about today but. anyways the mortifying ordeal of loving a character but hating the popular fanon more than words can express

ALL THAT BEING SAID please i implore you not to go after anyone on my behalf. or to start discourse about this. this post is not meant to target anyone in particular or even to be taken all that seriously i just . got 6 hours of sleep last night have not eaten in a bit and have perpetually pissed off disease

[whumpflash]

Acacia Aneura: On and Up

cw: noncon drugging, beating aftermath, slavery/captivity, branding, briefly mentioned noncon

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×××

Most scavs were loners at heart, and Judd was no exception. He had friends back at the camp, sure. They'd swap tips, share tools, maybe even split a haul if someone came up empty handed. But not a single one would stick their neck out for him. Judd didn't expect them to. He sure as hell wouldn't do it for them, not if he could get away scott-free.

So why the fuck had Skye come back for him?

The thought burned away at his skull, dancing the fucking two-step with the bitter dismay of his failure to escape. 

Judd and Skye were each fitted with heavy restraints, courtesy of the slaver's market; an apology to the buyer for the hassle the pair had caused. The man saw fit to drug them both for the ride as well, pinching Judd's nose and forcing his jaw apart when he tried to fight it. Not Compliance, but something thick and bitter that leadened his limbs and made him drowsy. The two captives were tossed into a storage compartment in the back of the buyer's transport, and locked inside.

Judd tried to reposition himself in a way that didn't put too much pressure on his bound arms, grimacing as the compartment began to rumble with the start of the vehicle's motor. This was it, then. He was about to disappear from the wastes, maybe forever. 

As shitty and brutal as the desert could be, it was still his home, and the fear of leaving it all behind overpowered the heavy pull of the drug, keeping him from slipping under.

Beside him, he could feel Skye struggling into a better position. There was hardly any room to move between the two of them, and by the time he stopped his squirming, he was leaning heavy on Judd. Any other circumstance, he would've shoved the other man away. Cussed him out. But the drug and his throbbing head and the feeling that he owed the older man something, kept him silent.

For some reason, he was caught by surprise when Skye spoke.

"Listen close, bully," he mumbled, his words coming out half-slurred. "Man who has us is very rich, and he came down to the market himself. Hand-picked you." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "Means he has a purpose already in mind for you. Likely either as a pit fighter or a pet."

"Pet?" Judd repeated.

"Bedslave," Skye replied, confirming what Judd already knew, and intensifying the sinking feeling in his stomach.

He clenched his jaw, willing the feeling away. It didn't have to happen. He could still escape.

But even as he thought it, he knew how pointless that hope was.

"What about you?" he asked.

The older man shrugged against him. "I'm an afterthought. Pits or labor. Doesn't matter." His voice sharpened. "You need to get him to make you a fighter. Don't know if that's what he's already got planned, but if it's not, you need to change his mind."

Judd scowled, despite knowing Skye couldn't see it. "What difference does it make? Still a slave either way."

"Fighters need to put on a show," Skye said, suppressing a wince as he shifted again. "They escape the drugs, the Compliance, at least when they're getting ready for a match. They get to train. It's your best chance at escape."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The better your chances, the less I have to worry about you."

Judd grunted, pressing his cheek against the metal inner wall of the transport. "You should've just fucking ran," he said in a near-whisper.

"That's where you're wrong," Skye replied. "I couldn't be responsible for a fellow scav losing his freedom."

"Now you're responsible for two."

Skye had no response for that. Judd pushed further into the wall, until the pressure on his face built to something almost painful, biting past the dragging effects of the drug. He was going about this wrong, he knew. He was shackled, in the hands of a man who thought he could own him, on the way to a city that might as well be alien. He needed all the allies he could get.

"What about the kid?" Judd said, changing the subject. "Is he—?"

"She is miles away at our camp. Safe." The way he said it sounded almost sad. Resigned.

"What's going to happen to her if you're…" Judd bit the inside of his cheek. "With me?"

A sigh from Skye. "She��� I told her not to come after me. Said if I was gone more than a week, to just move on."

"Just move on?"

"Hell knows if she'll listen or not." Affectionate. "Evyr'll be okay. She's a tough kid. She knows I wouldn't just leave her. That if I don't come back it's… it's because I can't."

Judd swallowed. "You said becoming a fighter's the best chance at escape. You think there is a chance then?"

"There's always a chance. Tough one, but scavs are tough. We can make it, but we gotta stick together best we can."

"Thought you said you don't wanna have to worry about me?"

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna leave you high and dry. Faster alone, further together, ever hear that saying?"

The transport suddenly stopped, metal shuddering and creaking. Judd flinched as an odd feeling spread over him, a drop in his stomach. Were they..?

"Don't panic," Skye mumbled. "It's the lifting mechanism. Moves transports up to the floating cities. Kind of like a… shit, y'don't know what an elevator is, do you?" He sighed. "It's taking us up. That's what's important."

"What about getting back down?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Judd grunted in response. How the fuck did Skye know so much, anyway? How could he be so sure about any of this?

The odd drop in his stomach stopped before long, and soon after, the transport slowed. A pair of burly men, neither of them the buyer, threw open the door to the storage compartment and hefted its occupants out. Judd's legs gave out the moment he tried to put any weight on them, the drug's lingering effects rearing their ugly head. 

They were in a small concrete bay, empty aside from the transport, and cold. They had air cooling units at Judd's camp, but they didn't offer much against the heat of the wastes, and were nothing compared to the chill of the room. 

In the light, Skye was looking worse for the wear; blood drying on his lips, in his hair, one eye swelling shut. With the hits Judd had taken, he doubted he looked much better, and the pain and the cool air and the drug all combined to leave him shivering. No doubt the picture of a pathetic mess. 

The buyer was climbing down from the passenger compartment of the transport, and it gave Judd some meager comfort to see that he was sporting a black eye.

"Where do you want them, Mr. Burke?" One of the burly men hefted him to his knees by the collar, and he winced as it dug into his already-bruised throat, adjusting his position so he could still fucking breathe.

"Have them processed and put in a holding cell," Burke responded, adjusting his shirt collar. "I still need to decide on a sufficient punishment." He disappeared through a shiny white door as soon as he finished spouting the instructions, and his goons hauled Judd and Skye roughly to their feet, pulling them to a second, significantly less shiny door.

It opened on a staircase that was somehow even colder than the bay room. Getting down it while chained and dizzy was no easy feat, but both men managed to reach the bottom without falling.

There was a hall, then another door, and another, and then they seemed to have reached their destination; yet another fucking concrete room.

Rubber tubes dangled from the ceiling, and below them, rows of metal drawers lined the walls. In one corner sat a squat furnace. If not for the absence of any parts, it'd look like the kind of repair bays Judd had seen in the grounded cities. A pretty well-equipped one at that.

The man holding Judd dragged him toward one of the hanging tubes, pulling the chain around his neck taut and attaching it to a hook above his head. Burke's goon grabbed the nearest tube and took a step back, angling it at Judd, who let out a strangled gasp as a jet of cold water came spurting out.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear the sound of tearing fabric, followed by protesting curses. Skye was getting the same treatment.

The stream of water soaked into his hair, drenched his skin, worsened his shivering. He watched as the red dust of the wastes washed off him, trickled into the drain.

So much water. A city luxury stealing what little he had left of his home. How stupid was he, to mourn for dust?

The man unhooked his collar and dragged him closer to the furnace. If nothing else, Judd was grateful for the slight heat coming from it, lessening the chill that gripped him. He felt the goon reach behind him, fastening his wrists to the wall.

"Don't move, or this will be a lot worse."

The other goon was hauling Skye over, attaching his restraints to another point in the wall to keep him in place as he reached towards the furnace, pulling out a long metal rod.

A choked, almost fearful sound escaped Skye, and only then did Judd realize what was about to happen. He thrashed, as if he were capable of breaking metal with something as weak as fear. The restraints dug painfully into his wrists.

"Shit— shit, no, don't—!"

"Hold him."

A hand closed around the back of his collar, yanking his head back, better exposing his chest.

Judd cursed as the red-hot iron came closer to him, too panicked to make out the outline of whatever it was they were about to brand him with. He tried again to jerk away, but the man holding him gripped the collar tighter, cutting off his air.

The metal seared into his skin, right below his collarbone, and his scream came out strangled, warped by the pressure on his throat.

Vision white, dizzy from the drug and the pain and the lack of air, Judd's legs buckled. The goon holding his collar caught him, wrapping an arm around his waist and propping him up.

The smell of his own burning flesh was like cooking meat, and it sickened him that it made him feel almost hungry, of all things.

Judd blinked away tears, breathing through clenched teeth as he waited for the pain to ebb, even just a little.

Across from him, Skye's head was hung as the man with the iron approached him, the burning brand in his grip.

The older man didn't try to struggle or curse. He didn't even look up.

But he still let out a blood-curdling scream as the iron pressed into his skin.

When it came away, leaving Skye panting, though still upright, it left behind a bright red circle with a pair of B's in it, mirroring each other, as if to form the outline of a butterfly.

They did Skye's on the right side, not over his heart like Judd's, and when he squinted through blurry vision he could see why.

Over Skye's heart, below his collarbone, was a different mark. An encircled pair of X's, one overlapping the other.

Another brand.

×××

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles

[its-a-humanriot]

“Billie, my friend, I have a question.”

“Shoot away, buddy.”

Fawkes, with an expression on his face that Billie is learning to read as confusion, starts reaching for his Gatling laser as he starts to look around for danger and she has to start backpedalling immediately. “Nononono, wait, sorry – just a turn of phrase. I meant to say go ahead.”

Fawkes’s huge shoulders visibly relax in the light of their small campfire, and he turns back to look at her again with that same odd look on his face. They haven’t spent an awful lot of time together since he carried her and Charon back from Raven Rock all those months ago, but since she had asked him to help her out on this trip scavving some heavier equipment from the scrapyard Billie has realised just how difficult he is to read. All of her instincts on body language are built for regular humans, and Fawkes sure is not that.

“Some of your phrases are very strange, my friend. Sometimes I do not know what to make of them.”

This comment startles a laugh from Billie, and she takes a swig of her Nuka Cola.

“Trust me, you are far from the first person to tell me that.” She says, grinning. “That’s what comes of growing up in an underground vault with no contact with the outside world, I guess. We just talk weird down there compared to everyone else.”

“You spent your life in a vault as I did, correct?”

“Yeah – well, my vault wasn’t anywhere near as shitty as your vault. Still bad, in retrospect, but not like ‘forcibly-injecting people-with-viruses-to-cause-horribly-painful-mutations-for-science’ bad.” Billie scratches at Dogmeat’s ears as he lays dozing between them. Fawkes shrugs – it’s an unnatural-looking motion on someone with his enormous build, all of the muscles in his shoulders bunching and tangling like huge twisted ropes.

“It is done now, and I cannot change what was done to me in the past. All the ones who are responsible for me being the way I am now are likely dead anyway. You have only been outside for a short time, yes?”

“Yeah, not that long. Less than a year.”

Fawkes grunts, then goes quiet, unnaturally so for him – the rumble of his voice normally suffuses the space around him at all times, like the hum of a generator. Billie isn’t sure yet whether Fawkes is just naturally talkative or whether he had just been so contact-starved during his long imprisonment in Vault 87 that when the chance came for conversation with another person came that he fell upon it like a starving man upon food. Either way, he normally takes any chance for discussion that presents itself no matter the topic, and the steady resonation of his rough voice combined with his contemplative nature makes Billie find his presence to be strangely calming in a way that seems at odds with his size or his ferocity in a fight.

But now he spends a long while staring in silence at the patch of night sky above their camp where the stars are making a rare appearance through a gap in the clouds. The look on his face has changed again. Fawkes has so many expressions that she has never seen on another super mutant, let alone another human, and are hard to interpret. The increased musculature on his face makes everything seem more strained, more forced. When he finally speaks, there’s a tense thread of something she can’t identify in it.

“Does the world ever stop feeling so big?”

The question takes a moment to land, but when it does it feels like it stuns her like a blow to the head. She remembers suddenly how it felt to leave the vault for the first time. After her eyes had first adjusted to the blazing daylight and she saw the sky for the first time, looking at it for too long made her stomach go all tight – for the first time in her life the world around her was not held up by walls, she couldn’t see the edges of it beyond the distant horizon, and it frightened her.

Sure, she was running on adrenaline constantly in those first few weeks above ground - when it had seemed everything in the world was out to get her and she didn’t have a grip on anything - but she had been half-convinced that the huge sky above her would fall down and crush her long before she ever found her father. Eventually the feelings had faded - sometime around when she started getting a handle on things, and after she learned that just because a place had a ceiling it didn’t mean it was any safer for it.

Fawkes had lived in a vault for far longer than she had. Not even just in the vault, but cooped up within the same four cell walls for who knows how long – certainly decades by his description, maybe even centuries – with few memories of his life from before his mutation. And yet when Billie had been captured by the Enclave, by Charon’s account Fawkes had essentially slung him over his shoulder and run after her into the great unknown despite having known her for less than an hour.

When she had emerged from Raven Rock, battered and burned and running only on the last fumes of her anger, she had been so overwhelmed to see her two friends that she had pretty much collapsed right into them from relief and exhaustion. She hadn’t thought of it being Fawkes’s first time above ground, and he hadn’t given any sign of being troubled by it that she had noticed. He’s never given any sign of being troubled by anything, come to think of it.

What would fear look like on a super mutant, anyway?

Fawkes is still staring into the distance. Billie takes another swig from her cola, and fiddles with the bottle cap. Maybe there are other reasons that Fawkes had taken to staying in Underworld than she had originally realised.

“Not exactly.” She shuffles a little closer to the fire. “The world still feels crazy big to me even now sometimes. But it’s less overwhelming now than it was. I found things to fill the space with, I guess.”

Fawkes looks back towards her, his tilted head a question in the firelight, and she continues.

“When I first came topside I didn’t have anything or know anyone, and the world was huge and overwhelming and I didn’t really know what to do with myself except try and find my dad however I could. But then I found Charon and having him around made things feel - less uncertain, I suppose. Then we found Dogmeat.” She strokes Dogmeat’s ears again, and the dog snorts at her softly. “Things got bad again after Dad died, but I kept meeting people and finding things that made me feel like I was part of the world and not just rolling around in this huge empty space where I might die at any second.”

She takes a last sip of Nuka and then offers the half-full bottle to Fawkes. Slowly, he reaches out and takes it from her almost delicately, holding it just with his forefinger and thumb before raising it to his mouth and downing the remaining liquid in one large gulp. Then scrunches his nose up.

“This drink makes my mouth tingle.”

“Hey, you got to re-discover soda! Did you like it?”

Fawkes contemplates this.

“I am not sure. I would like to try another one.”

Billie pops the cap off another cola and passes it to him, then briefly scrubs her teeth with a brush and a little charcoal, rinses with vodka mouthwash (and scrunches her own nose) and gets comfortable in her bedroll next to the fire.

“Billie?” Fawkes is still looking out towards the sky, sipping his cola, his voice quiet as she has ever heard it.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” She yawns. “Goodnight, Fawkes.”

Just before she drifts off, she sees a single huge green fingertip gently stroke the top of Dogmeat’s head, and then remembers nothing until she wakes, bleary-eyed, to a bright beam of pinkish light from the freshly risen sun. When she turns over, Fawkes is sitting cross-legged on the ground by the fire with Dogmeat curled up by his knee, eyes on the horizon. It is hard to tell, but she thinks as he watches the sun crawl up into the pink-orange sky that the morning light illuminates the slightest upturned corners at the edges of his mouth.

[trashcatsnark]

Okay but you won't convince me that Johnny wasn't at least a BIT scared shitless when the scavs conned V with that BD. He sees them being stripped, thrown into a tub with ice water, with a very real risk of any of these scavs coming back any minute to gut them and dispose of the remains like garbage, and all he can do is look and pace around that shitty bathroom, unable to either protect them himself (since he's just an engram) or even take control over V's body to at least drag them out of the tub. He feels their fear, their pain, how they shiver and how their teeth chatter, and he can't do absolutely anything.

Some Spoilers~!

I think so for sure, like, that just such a scary situation. I haven't done the mission and haven't heard like his tone and such. But, I do know he immediately when V wakes up is calling them stupid for falling for it and is being an asshole, which, I think with Johnny is at times how he expresses his concern. Anger, sarcasm, taunting. When V goes diving and has a malfunction; he yells, screams at V for refusing to listen, being stupid. When V tries to sacrifice themselves for him, he taunts them, calls them a coward at first. That's his first instinct when he's overwhelmed with concern and feelings, try to hide it behind insults, anger, and taunting.

So, I wholeheartedly believe when he's calling V an idiot, its to cover his very real fear and concern, because V you idiot, he can't save you from everything, don't do this stupid shit!

[rindemption]

2/3 for past and 4 for present, for Nathan? :3

From this ask game!

Past

2. Which social class did they belong to growing up? How did it affect them?

"Can't even try to pretend I grew up anything but lower class. Cheap apartment on the verge of falling apart, hand-me-downs, only the basics in the fridge. Didn't even have a working stove top the appliances were so shitty."

3. Describe their family. Who raised them, and who had the most impact on them? Did they have any siblings? Who were they closest to? What were the family dynamics like?

"Abuela raised me. Not my real grandma, never met either of them. Señora Irma Márquez, lived a couple doors down in the same complex. Had a granddaughter my same age, took me in when my parents weren't home. Which was a lot. She had the most impact on me, I'd say. My dad had the second most, I suppose, taught me to shoot and how to work with fixers. And showed me what I didn't want to do with my life.

No siblings, just me, probably for the best. I'm not exactly close to my parents. More of a... professional relationship now that I'm an adult. Very much of the mindset that kids should be raised to take the parent's place."

Present

4. Do they have any enemy factions or groups? Why and how are they opposed, and how do they feel about it?

"Do the police count? I'm going to say they count, neither of us like each other. Um, overblown, egotistical corpos. Mostly because fuck them, thinking they're so much better than everyone just because they got lucky and made some scrap. And scavs. I try to be nonlethal when I can but I'll fuck up scavs whenever I cross paths with them. Vultures and predators who go after innocent people to strip them of their cyberware, leave them to bleed out or go into shock. Not worth the mercy."

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Three): Maybe God Is Just A Cop We Can Fast Talk

Notes: I’m trying to test out not stockpiling chapters and just post whatever I got when I got it. So, we’ll see how it goes. Additionally, apologies in advanced if my work is a bit more fucky on spelling and grammar from now on out. They use to have some degree of beta reading, but now it’s the wild west. It all depends on my brain, which is smooth. 

Word Count: 13,335

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, death, entirely too on the nose foreshadowing, f/f sex scene, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, masturbation, sex toy use, nipple sucking, dirty talk that may or may not be cringe (I had fun)

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V takes a deep breath as they pull into the parking garage of a large apartment building complex, her nose wrinkles. August has settled into Night City, air humid and thick, the stink of trash filling her lungs at every breath. The smell of NC in summer and a landfill are only a few degrees removed from one another. Jackie is in the passenger seat, nearly pressed shoulder to shoulder. Wakako is paying them to rescue some corpo chick, a gig V would usually roll her eyes at, but the apartment is a known Scavenger hideout. Without someone stepping in, the woman will be ripped apart, organs and cyberware chopped out to be sold. Corpo or not; no one deserves that.

The merc covers her lips with chapstick and a little above, so she smells the balm and not Night City, then dabs some on the inside of her mask as well. The trick reminds her of when her mother would have her and Eira smear homemade balm under their noses before going to pick through landfills; telling them stories of old plague doctors who’d shove cloves into beaked masks to avoid the stench of death. The chapstick isn’t quite so strongly scented as the mash of camphor, menthol, and coconut oil her mother would use. But it strikes that nostalgia bone nonetheless.

“Still not used to the smell?” Jackie taunts her, grin pulling at his lips.

“God, no,” she quickly signs, her choker translator off as she pulls on her mask.

“It grows on you.”

“Six months in and the only thing that’s grown on me is you.”  Her mask takes over translating her signing, though she’ll have to shut it off when they get in.

“Was that almost a compliment?”

“A compliment? From me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Pff, real funny,” he rolls his eyes, “chick we're looking for's somewhere in this building. Probably crawlin' with the pendejos that kidnapped her. Eyes and ears open, all right?"

“Opening my ears isn’t gonna help much, but alright.”

“You’re real close to my last nerve, chica,” he says but he’s smiling.

“Love you too, Jack, now, the fixer give you any tips?”

“I’m not your mother,” he tries to mimic the older woman’s voice, “just do what I pay you for, it’s easy work. Sh, yeah.”

“Okay, let’s do this.”  

With that Jackie and V leave the car, stepping out into the garage. The taller of the two checks his two pistols, ensuring the gold emblazoned weapons are loaded and ready for the mess that surely awaits them. There’s no telling how many Scavvs are here, the body hacking gangers the equivalent of cockroaches. She checks her own .50 caliber pistol,  it’s loaded and she has a knife strapped in a holster on her thigh.

“Elevator. This way.” Jackie nods towards the elevator in the parking garage, leading the way as V follows behind. Dirty elevator doors open for them, the words NO FUTURE scratched across the stained metal. The two mercs step inside, V leaning against a graffiti covered wall, leg shaking with anxiety.

A digital interface, T-Bugs avatar appears at the elevator button panel, flashes of code as the runner quickly hacks through it without needing an apartment key. The doors close and the rusty elevator lurches into movement, heading up.

“Target's Sandra Dorsett. Target's biomon went mute a couple hours back. Suspected abduction. Target could've possibly flatlined already. Not sure you're in time,” Bug’s voice comes through V’s hearing aids, subtitles on her mask for good measure, as the runner delivers her warning. That’s always a risk with rescue jobs, but they have a decent track record for getting to people in time.

“We're in time, Bug,” Jackie corrects her, “ we. Sure, you're on phones, but… that don't make you any less a part of this squad.”

"Squad… Charming.” V can nearly hear the Bug rolling her eyes.

“Awww, c’mon Bug, you know we need you.”

“No arguments there, without me you gonkbrains probably be shot to death by turrets or sitting in jail by now. “

“And without us, you’d have to step foot outside your apartment.”

“A true horror,” Bug mocks, a scoff in her voice as the elevator stops, doors opening, “focus now, You’re lookin' for twelve thirty-seven.”  

V and Jackie step out of the elevators, greeted to trash strewn apartment halls, graffiti scratched across every inch. Hands on their iron, the mercs make their way down the hall. With a thought V mutes the translation tech in her mask, linked to her neuralware, that way a stray hand gesture won’t give them away.

“Han, is that you?” An older woman starts to step out of her apartment.

V quickly waves her hand, signaling the woman to make herself scarce and she nods before running back in. Between the Scavenger’s victims and the innocent residents; there’s a lot of room for potential casualties. Low profile is essential if they want to do a clean job.

“Target should be inside, but I got zero eyes on her biomon. Fingers crossed it's not too late. Ugh, hate this life or death shit,” T-Bug explains as they reach the door they need, “try hacking the door, think you can trip it on your own, V?”

V’s fingers itch to just pry the damn thing open or try to pick the lock, despite knowing the former would give them away and the latter is impossible with the electronic model of door. The young merc brings up the scanner of her mask, running a quick scan of the door and sending the quick hack through. It slides open, Jackie able to slip inside with her following close behind.

The doorway opens into a wider room and V’s heart sinks. The sticky cloying smell of blood claws its way through anything, so thick in the air that her efforts to block out the city smell are rendered useless.  There’s a steady but slightly muffled thrum of electronic music coming from the other room, not a Scavenger in sight, but their handiwork paints the room. Low grade medical equipment, a shitty old school heart monitor attached to a woman in a ripperdoc chair. The woman is dead, no monitor or scan needed to know that. Body ripped open, entrails spilling out, red spattering down the black leather of the chair. Blood paints the walls around her, her skin a sallow lifeless shade of gray. Her abdomen is a mess of bloody organs and half ripped out implants.

“Are we fuckin' late?! Is that her, is that our target, V?!” Jackie calls out, voice low and edged with worry in his voice as he tries to scream and whisper at once, gesturing with his gun as he points at the corpse.

V doesn’t bother to open her scanner, looking over the woman’s body, it's not hard to know this isn’t their target. No high up corpo would pack this crap. What implants remain are cheap and poorly installed, the ones around her eyes have left the skin creased and scarred. Worse quality than what someone would find in the poorest of Nomad clans. Likely, a joytoy, or perhaps a Maelstrommer as the shitty over the top implant installation is common among the gang.

“No,” V signs, looking up at Jackie, his eyes on her to subtitle the ASL, “our girl is protected under echelon II corpo immunity, this is back-alley black market crap, no corpo in their right mind would walk around with this shit.”

Jackie nods, his shoulders losing a little of their tension as he moves up to a door, the music louder as he just opens the door peeking through, trying to get a feel for the room before they go through. Judging by the music and the still fresh blood mingled with the older stains, the Scav haunt is still being used. Jackie pulls away from the door and presses against the wall next to it.

“V, mira, eyes up, pendejos ahead.” Jackie warns her as she puts her hands to the door, trying to peek through the crack, the music louder and less muffled with the door cracked. V can see plastic sheets, coolers, chop shop equipment as they butcher people. Through distorted bloodied plastic hung from the ceiling, the pendejo in question standing in front of a cooler, back turned.

“Drop him quiet, V.”

V takes a deep breath and counts the music beats, waiting for the tempo and volume to rise before she opens the door, hiding the creak of it behind the pumping club style music. The merc drops to a crouch as soon as she walks through, creeping up behind the Scavenger, pushing through plastic sheets, she unsheathes her tactical knife.

In one swift movement she stands and kicks out the man’s knee, bringing him down low enough to grab his face by his mask and pull him towards her. He has a mere moment to struggle in her grasp before she then sinks her knife into his skin, piercing the flesh and arteries where his neck meets his shoulder. He goes limp in her arms and she pulls her knife out with a twist, before she shoves him forward into the cooler. The lid shuts with a slight thud, drowned out by the music.

“Nice, couldn’t have done it better myself, chica,” Jackie praises as she wipes her knife off on her pants, red smearing across the black fabric.

“On your toes. More bodies incoming, they're almost on you,” Bug warns as the mercs move to the next room, creeping through the garbage strewn hall and going around a bend, an open doorway showing a group of Scavs.

Whether thanks to music or their own lack of intelligence, the gang members don’t hear them as they find a nook around the corner to hide. V pressing her body tight against a fridge, Jackie not far behind her.  The dark spot, appliances, and trash does well to hide the two from sight.

“Fistfuck these reapers. Oye, V! They're comin',” Jackie warns as two of the Scav start to come around the corner, “wait for your chance. Pick the prick off. “

Tucked away the two mercs aren’t noticed. She watches as the two men walk by, following a path down the hallway without noticing them. V tries to hear what they say, straining to hear over the music, something about scoring big, a chick with “preem ass chrome”.

“Cabrones… thick as locusts. Let's wait and plan a spree.”

V gives a nod, trying not to comment that they’ve already discussed this. Stealth has never been Jackie’s strongpoint, he talks too much, can’t stand the quiet. She watches as the two gang members turn their backs to the mercs. They stop at the end of the hallway to stand guard and V goes to move.

“Let's take 'em… Suerte.”

She tries not to shake her head, not to sign at him to stop talking. She’ll tease him for it later, the two stay in a crouch, creeping up behind the two Scavengers. The merc gets close enough to feel the warmth coming off the gang member's body, V and Jackie lunge at the same time. Jackie snaps the Scav on the left’s neck and V slices the throat of the one on the right; two men dead at their feet. She rummages through the freshly dead corpses pockets, adding a few eddies and a Max Doc to her own.

“All down, limp meat. But probably not the last of 'em,” Jackie says as they start back towards the corner, staying low and...mostly...quiet as they reach the open doorway, “Move on, move up. Right behind you, V.

Their hideaway corner has an open doorway in the room that leads to another larger room, windows at the far end and around  Shelves and cabinets of ammo and grenades fill the room, should be easy enough to stay out of sight. Three men that she can see, one closer to the doorway, easy grab. And if they time it right they can grab the other two in tandem.

V raises her knife to her chest, pressing the hilt to her skin, then pounces on the nearest ganger. She yanks his head back and onto the blade, the weapon piercing up through the base of his skull, as she drags his body back. He’s already dead by the moment she’s dragged him from the room, dropping his corpse where he won’t be seen.

“Careful, once you get the next two,” Bug warns, voice low, “goliath ass Scav the next room over.”

“Gotcha,” Jackie whispers as they start to make their way back into the room where the next two are.

V stays to the left side of the room and Jackie goes to the right, both staying low and close to cover. The younger takes a deep breath, the clutter and way the room curves means they’re out of sight range, making it harder to coordinate. Nonetheless, she mentally counts to three and jumps her target. She grabs the gang member by the chin, wrenching up his face as she slams her knife into the front of his throat,ripping it out with a spray of blood.

“What the fuck!?” A voice, deep and masculine yells out, just as Jackie snaps his target’s neck. A bulking mass of a man, around Jackie’s height has scrambled to his feet; a heavy machine gun in his hands.

“Fuck, eyes on you!!” T-Bug warns just as a bullet tears through V’s bicep, superficial, no pain as adrenaline spikes.

And the chaos starts as the bullets begin to fly, V grabs her pistol, takes aim into the room and starts fire while moving. Jackie doing the same, the pair scrambling behind a cabinet, crouched and facing one another. His sweaty forehead nearly smacking into her mask. The room around them tears and shatters with each bullet fired their way, none managing to hit them, she doesn’t think the ganger saw where they took cover.

Their pistols can’t cut through the rapid fire being shot their way.  Her heart is pounding, her fingers tight on the trigger, HMG’s need a cool off time. If they wait it out, his gun will overheat and they’ll have a window. And if he’s not coming to pick them off, playing the distance game, it means he’s dead set on protecting something; got to be Dorsett.

“Gun’s going to overheat, then we’ll get our chance,” V signs and speaks to Jackie at the same time, miscommunication not something that can afford right now. Her voice is rough and out of breath, her face wet with sweat behind her mask.

“Hijos de puta! Our target’s gotta be through there, V!”

“I know I know,” she squeezes his shoulder with one hand, the other still signing, “once the gun overheats , we’ll rush him and finish this up.”

“HMG should only have a few more rounds before then, but won’t be long before it cools back off. You got a tight window,” T-Bug informs them, able to keep better track of it when not in firing range.

And then the fire slows, lightening and nearly stopping, Jackie and V both jump over the cabinet, seeing their chance and not hesitating to take it. They rush towards the room, the man cursing when he sees them charging and the door begins to shut. V skids into the wall and Jackie slams against it just as the door fully closes, cutting off their access. The older merc digs his nails between the door and wall, trying to pry it open with a grunt, but it doesn’t budge. Crow bar, crow bar, something, there has to be something.

Then a gunfire blasts through the wall, narrowly avoiding V. They missed their window and he can shoot through the wall. This is great. This is fantastic, exactly what they fucking need!

“Head down, Jaina, take cover!” Jackie yells out, yanking V back behind a shelf with him.

“Fuck!”

“Need options Bug, you got eyes on this shithole!?”

“Uh, lemme see, room he’s in connects to a balcony, the window to get in is small. V might be able to slip through to him.”

“How do I get there?”

“Got a window on the left, gimme two secs to grease the lock.”

“If I get his attention elsewhere, could you break down that door?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jackie nods as they put together their new plan, “flank him and draw his fire! I’ll do the rest!”

V sees the window Bug is talking about, her interface over it as it slides open, she easily jumps through, a closed in balcony cluttered with equipment, more trash that nearly trips her as she reaches the next window. The industrial shutters are damaged and broken, allowing her to peek through, the goliath, as Bug put it, is inside. A shaved head and face of mottled cyberware. She grabs the lowest rung of the shutters and rips the already broken mess up; then fires three shots at the man. They hit but don’t bring him down, only streaking blood down his leather jacket, he swings the gun to face her.

A loud boom rings out, metal screeching, as Jackie busts the door down. His boots pound against the floor and he slams into the Scavenger, the gang member’s body hitting the wall with a thud. Jackie rips the HMG from the man’s hands, raising it high above his head and bashing the gang member’s head in with it. Blood streaking the wall behind him and the ganger falling limp on the carpet. V climbs through the window, giving the Scavenger

“That’s the last of them,” T-Bug tells them, “time to find our target.”

“Question is, where the hell is she?” Jackie asks as V makes a beeline for the one door she sees. They’ve gone through the rest of the area, it has to be it. It's the last damn room in the apartment or whatever.

“Look around, gotta be there somewhere.”

“Holy fuck.”

V’s breath catches in her throat when she swings that door open; the horror of the front room was just a taste of what these people are capable of. White linoleum stained ruddy with blood, a bathroom with fluorescent lights making the ghostly gray of the corpses stand out. The bathtub is jammed full, naked bodies bleeding the ice water red, hanging out to smear crimson over white porcelain.

“Jesus christ… ” Jackie breathes out as he steps in behind her.

V swallows the nerves and bile down, rushing to the bathtub.  The first body stacked on top is a man, skin cold to the touch and no pulse in his neck, she moves him aside. Can’t save them all, can’t save them all; she tells herself. As she checks and moves bodies, finding only one with some warmth still clinging to her body, top level chrome in etching her cheekbones and down her bare chest. Her nose and mouth barely above the ice water, it’s a miracle she wasn’t drowned under the weight of the others who weren’t as lucky.

“Think I got her. Got our target!” She yells out as she pulls the woman halfway from the tub, sitting on the edge of it. V’s fingers numb and sting all at ones from the ice, she delicately brings the woman’s shaved head to her lap. Ice water soaking through her jeans and chilling the skin beneath.

Sandra’s eyes are just slightly open, not alert, but V can pick up on some movement behind them. Pulse at her neck faint, albeit consistent. Bad shape, but not gone. The instinct to keep checking the bodies, the need to see if they can save anyone else, pulls at V. But she has to secure Sandra, has to attend the one she was sent after and at the very least she knows has a fighting chance.

Jackie stands at the door looking in and keeping guard, there's likely more Scavengers in the building, if they catch wind of what’s happened in their nest. They’ll storm in and they can risk the gang members opening fire into the room, snuffing out anyone's chance of living. Her stomach churns, once they secure Sandra they can check on the others.

“We make it, she alive?”

“She’s hanging in, I think,” V’s fingers twitch with the need to sign her words, but the need to support Sandra’s neck  and head wins out. She’s not sure if the poor woman can process or feel anything right now, looking nearly catatonic, but...maybe a touch that doesn’t hurt can be of some comfort through it all.

“V, jack into her biomon. Need to know what we're dealin' with.”

“Ooh, this does not look good…” Jackie breathes out, green eyes running frantically over the bathroom, taking in the sheer horror of what they’ve found.

“She’s not alone here, Bug, there’s bodies stacked up, crammed together, like slabs of fucking meat. I’m not sure if anyone else is alive, I- fuck.”

“We’ll do what we can for them after, keep it together. And if she survives, she won’t even remember, tiny scar on the subconscious in the long run.  Jack into her biomon.”

“Jacking in,” V slots her personal link into Sandra’s biomon port, information lighting up her mask's interface, “Sandra Dorsett. NC570442. Trauma Team Platinum.”

“Platinum? Shit, Trauma shoulda swooped in if she sneezed,” Jackie scratches the back of his head, the question clear, where the fuck is Trauma?

“Guessin' they jammed the transmitter sig. Lookin' at a hacked biomon, firmware reconfig or a neurovirus…”

“Carajo, T-Bug! You ain't seein' this place. This is tubs, ice, hooks and cleavers.” Jackie explains.  Scavengers are brutal, crude, rudimentary; anything too high tech isn’t coming from them.

“Hmm… Scopmuncher's hack, huh. Got an idea. Check her neuroport. Find a shard? Yeah, pull it - that'll be what's muting the biomon.”

V gently maneuvers the woman’s head, nails rubbing over her shaved hair, seeing the two standard neuroports behind her right ear. One with a shard placed inside. She’s heard stories of infected shards, where removing them ends up causing more harm than whatever’s on them. But, she trusts T-Bug.

“Shard found, removing it now.” She gently pulls the shard from Sandra’s neuroport, pocketing it for now, in case it’s needed later.

“Check the biomon. Anything change?”

“Greetings, Sandra,” an artificial voice explains,  “If you are conscious, assume recovery position now. An emergency evacuation unit has been dispatched and is due to arrive at your location in 180 seconds.”

“Trauma will be here in three.”

“Your premium plan will cover 90% of the projected costs of your rescue and treatment,” the biomonitor warns and V can’t help but roll her eyes, capitalism and healthcare, a match made in hell.

“Ay, pobrecita,” Jackie shakes his head, “let's get her off that ice.”

V nods, pulling her jack from the naked woman’s biomonitor and gently bringing Sandra’s body up and into her arms. She lifts the woman bridal style, water soaking her arms as she stands up. Sandra’s body starts to shake and convulse, leg unintentionally kicking at V’s arms.

“Shit!”  V curses out loud, hitting her knees as she brings Sandra to the ground. The woman’s body twitches and convulses, eyes rolling back into her head, as a ghastly choking sound comes from her mouth.

“She's flatlining!”

“V, need to know what's going' on!”

“Jackie, airhypo, now!”

“¡Ey, catch chica!”

Jackie throws the airhypo and the merc snatches the green first aid hypodermic out of the air. V quickly presses the tool to the center of Sandra’s chest and pushes the needle into her skin, shooting the compressed adrenaline into her system to stabilize her. Sandra’s body stills and relaxes, her chest still falling and rising steadily. V breathes a sigh of relief and pushes her mask onto the top of her head; sweat stinging her eyes and her lungs demanding she breathe freely. She swallows hard and blinks, Sandra still stable on the floor.

“Fuck..I, target seized but we got her stable,” V recounts to T-Bug and shakes her head, still in shock at just how close they came to this woman dying in her arms.

“You alright, jaina?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just, yeah. Uh, fuck...”

“I getcha, got a stomach of steel, but this is….”

The merc is used to death, seen it firsthand many a times and dealt it to many a people. But she’s always prided herself on not taking innocent lives, every target she’s ever killed, every person she’s put in the grave had a healthy share of blood on their hands.  She knows that doesn’t necessarily make it right, doesn’t many it doesn’t cause any harm, most monsters still have someone who loves them. And as a corpo, maybe Sandra isn’t truly innocent, V wouldn’t know for sure.  But she doesn’t deserve this, this horror, neither do any of the people stewing in ice water.

She’s always been surrounded by death but in this  bathroom, with her knees pressing against bloody tiles, she feels like she’s choking on it.

“We’re gonna get you out here, safe and sound, I promise,” she tells the woman in her lap, maybe more for her own benefit than for the woman who can’t hear her. She picks Sandra up again and turns towards Jackie, “Scavs will scatter the second they see Trauma, hate to ask this, but once they show up, we need to see if we can save anyone else, you mind checking out the bodies in the tub while I handle her?”

“Course, gotta save who we can.”

V nods, thankful that Jackie and her are on the same page. There’s a steady whirr of engines and the young merc takes Sandra out to the balcony, in the faint distance she can see the Trauma Team aircraft incoming. Wind picks up as they draw ever closer, sweeping up and blowing trash around from the area. It feels nice on V’s bare sweaty face, but she tries to tuck Sandra a little closer to her chest, trying to keep the unconscious woman warm, which seems almost ironic in the heat of the city. The aircraft pulls up beside the balcony with flashing lights and V cringes at the whirring of its turbines, turning the volume down on her hearing aids.

“Landing, stand clear. Initiating security protocol. Follow all instructions. Stop in the doorway!” The speakers on the aircraft boom and V would flip them off if she weren’t holding Sandra.

A little step extends out to the balcony and holograms mark out an area she isn’t supposed to step into. Then the Trauma Team members come out, four individuals in green uniform with white helmets, guns drawn, holsters of equipment hanging off of them.  Two of the workers lay a gurney down in front of V.

“Place the patient on the ground!” A man yells at her, gun drawn. She rolls her eyes and does as asked, gently placing Sandra on the gurney.

“Five steps back. Now,” one of the workers demands, then shoves V back and away from Sandra, gun still pointed at her as the others rush to take the woman into the aircraft.

“There are some other people...” she switches on the translator in her choker to sign, but they ignore her.

Of course, Sandra is the only person in that tub who means anything to them, because she has money. She can just hear them over the turbines as they start to assess the woman’s condition, loading her in the aircraft, the last worker following behind. The young merc sighs watching as the vehicle flies off, as much the Trauma Team system boils her blood, their doctors are well trained. Sandra is in good hands.  After a moment she turns back to the entrance to the apartment, Jackie waiting in the doorway. His hands empty.

“No one else…” She starts to sign then trails off, seeing the look in his eyes.

“All dead long before we got here.”

“Fuck…”

“Let's get outta here,” he claps a hand against her shoulder as they start to leave, “Elevator gets us to the garage direct.”

“Good work. Shitshow's over. Cuttin' my wires now. See ya in the near future,” T-Bug says her goodbyes, cutting off her connection to the mercs.

Good work, somehow those words ring hollow when there’s a tub of corpse not three feet away. There’s a heavy weight in V’s chest, they did what they were paid for, one person is safer now because of them. All things she should be proud of, but she can’t help but still feel hollow and bitter about this entire thing. Her head still hangs low as she follows Jackie out of the apartment.

“Listen, chica,” he gets her attention, “got this thing. Mind if I borrow your wheels?”

“A thing?”

“I got a date with Misty, but… heh, I can't take the metro! How's that gonna look for me?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll help you out, I guess,” she signs, feigning annoyance, though they both know she’s happy to help.

“Ah, savin' my ass, V, thank you. How about I drive you home, eh?”

“Please, I feel like I’m about to drop any minute,” she admits, body heavy with exhaustion and head starting to hurt from all the commotion. Even the translator tech’s voice is starting to make her head throb.

The elevator doors open, welcoming the two mercs as they scurry inside, V leaning all of her weight against a wall as Jackie hits the buttons. Doors closing, it starts to move, and V’s thankful for every second that gets her closer to her bed. It's an unusual feeling, she’s not typically this worn out after a job. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing, she’s learned, most jobs leaving her still riding that high and looking for ways to burn the excess energy. But, all she wants right now is to crawl in bed and pretend the world is a kinder place, 

“Oh, almost forgot. Should get Wakako on the halo - tell her the job's done.”

V gives a short nod before pulling Wakako up on her phone, it rings a few times before it projects the image of the older woman, V keeping it on speaker so Jackie can hear the call.

“Ahem! V? How did it go? Our client is alive and well?”

“Of course.”

“Splendid. Your payment awaits you - ready to come and grab whenever you like, even right away. But I guess home is the only place you wish to be now. The NCPD has surrounded Watson. The district is closed. If you are to make it past the cordon, you must move fast.”

“Shit, thanks for the warning, catch you another time,” V signs her goodbye as she hangs up and groans, thunking her head back against the wall. Of course, just her luck. The elevator doors open and Jackie leads the way out to the garage, V following closely behind.

“Gotta get going if I’m gonna make it home tonight,” V mentions as they reach her car, she doesn’t want to have to crash on his garage or his mom’s place if she can help it.

“Leave it to me, chica, I’m driving.” Jackie tells her with a little grin pulling at his lip as he climbs into the driver seat and she plops down into the passenger side.

Jackie revs the ignition and starts fiddling with the radio, while V cranks the air conditioner. She tosses her mask into the backseat for now, fiddling with her hair. The pull out of the parking garage as Jackie finds a song he likes, kind enough to keep it on low volume for V’s sake, she finds herself sinking into the seat, watching the city pass by from the window. Trying to focus on the neon lights that pass her by and not the negativity that’s threatening to overtake her mind.

“Can’t stop digging Night City,” Jackie tells her following a few moment of silence, save for the radio.

“Place definitely has an energy to it.” They drive past what she assumes is a joytoy arguing with a man, advertisements that flash so vividly in the night, street vendors peddling over the top food items. Noisy, smell, chaotic, and messy; the essence of Night City

“Nah, chica, it's more than that. Morgan Blackhand, Andrew Weyland, Adam Smasher. Legends are born here!”

“You and me, the next ones up?” She signs, playfully raising an eyebrow at him.

“You know it, jaina.”

“And we’re not gonna need a corp to do it.”

“Swear to god, V,” he shakes his head, grinning, “only merc I know who don’t get all tingly when I mention the greats.”

“Not saying they aren’t badasses, but being the best of the best is easy when you got a billion eddie corp in your corner. Blackhand was in Militech’s pocket, Weyland was on Petrochem’s payroll and Smasher is a certified Arasaka cocksucker,” she explains, fingers cramping from spelling the names as quickly as she can so her tech will translate it right, “but you and me are going to do this right, reach the top without the corp’s dick in our mouths.”

Being a legend may always be Jackie’s dream more than it’s hers… But she’s been growing into it more and more with each passing day.  She’s enjoyed the ride so far and wants to keep up the momentum. While by no means a perfect life, she’s happier than she’s been in a long time. Independent and doing a job she loves more often than not. Though, there’s still something missing… that she can’t quite define. As they keep working their way up that ladder, she’s only feeling more and more like she’s where she belongs. It only gets better from here, so long as her past stays there. V can’t help but think hitting the big leagues is what’s really going to put all the pieces in place, herself included.

“Damn right we will, V. Blackhand’s gonna wish he was us.”

“Blackhand is dead.”

“Psssh, you really believe that, chica?” He looks at her like she’s grown a third head.

“You don’t?”

“Hell no, Blackhand’s out there somewhere, sitting pretty after blowing Arasaka Tower off the map.”

“No one’s seen him since the tower fell, anyone in the tower when it came down is dead, you don’t survive that shit.”

“No one has ever found his body or Silverhand’s!”

“Because it was buried under rubble,” she’s signing frantically and grinning, the little stupid argument lifting some of the gloom off of her, “wait, who the fuck is Silverhand?”

“Silverhand, the ro-,” Jackie pauses, eyes going to the rearview window, she follows his eyeline, a van behind them, “hey is it just me or, argh, van’s on our ass, we got a tail, V!”

V gets a hand on her iron and turns in her seat to try to grab a better look, she can see the holographic mask glitching green and red on the driver. The van jerks into the left lane, speeding up to pass them, then in the very next moment pulling in front of them. V’s brows furrow, what are they doing? Then the double doors to the van open up, two masked gang members opening fire on the mercs.

“Scavs! ¡Hijos de puta!”

And V’s half out the window, sitting on the sill of it,  in the next instant, firing back at the Scavs. Bullets whirl by and V tries to maintain a steady hand as she shoots off shot after shot, aiming for the gangoons heads. Gunshots ring out through the night, bullets whiz past V and blow holes in her car, as she keeps blasting right back. People from the streetways scream, terrified of being caught in the shoot out.

“Come on, V, shoot!”

“Keep it steady,” he side mirror explodes as a bullet hits it, “fuck!”

With a thought, V shuts off her hearing aids, the world going quiet around her. Unable to hear the screaming and racket as she focuses only on shooting the Scavs. Blood sprays, a bullet ripping through a gang member’s head, their body going limp and spilling onto the road. The vehicles swing through a right turn, Jackie a thankfully empty chunk of sidewalk before swinging back out to the road. V reloads her gun as a bullet tears through her hip, not fatal but it hurts like a bitch. She fires off two more shots, catching the last member in the back of the van just as it takes a quick left turn.

But the curve comes back to meet the stretch of highway they’re on. She fires off a few shots as it goes, trying to tear through the tires before the gangers greet them again, but to no avail. The Scavenger van takes the short curve and comes back through the exit, taking the left lane to drive alongside them. V tries to fire a shot at the masked driver, but her aim is off, only blasting out the last of the van’s intact windows.

The van’s door opens, another masked gang member blasting at the mercs as the cars struggle to stay neck and neck. A sharp pain lodges in V’s shoulder and she blows the man’s brains out in her next shot. Only the driver remains and she starts blasting without hesitation, knowing they can’t easily shoot back and has no more friends covering his ass. One last bullet connects with his temple, his body going limp and the van going onto the street, crashing into a building.

She breathes, blinking, heart still pounding in her chest. There’s blood still coming from her wounds and wind whipping around her as Jackie drives. She pulls herself back into the vehicle, bending a knee and keeping one foot in her seat with the other back on the floorboard, because she can’t be bothered to sit properly. She catches Jackie’s lips moving and flips her hearing aids back on.

“Ears were off, mind saying it again,” she signs and can’t help but shrink when she sees the glimmer of annoyance on his face, the tension of the situation no doubt making what’s usually a minor request feel a bit more aggravating.

“Are you okay? You need me to take you to Vik’s?”

The mark on her hip and bicep from earlier are minor, just scratches where bullets skimmed the skin. It's her shoulder that could warrant some concern. She flips on a light in the vehicle, craning her neck to get a better look at the injury. The entry wound isn’t too bad, low caliber, just some blood steadily weeping from her shoulder. V rolls and shifts her shoulder, a tightness to the movement. She touches around her shoulder blades, no exit wound. V rubs around the wound, feeling the injury. Something solid within her flesh, not far from the entry wound.

She knows Vik says not to remove the bullets, that it can cause more harm digging around in the wound, but if she leaves it the thing will annoy her forever. With adrenaline still spiked, heart still pounding and these injuries still feeling like stings at most, it will hurt more later than it will now. So, V digs her fingers into her own wound.

“What are you-”

V finds the bullet beneath her skin and digs her nails into it, ripping it from her flesh, bloodied metal now exposed. She rolls her shoulder, it’s bleeding a bit more, but the movement feels better, more free.

“ Jesus christo, V! Fuckin’ hate when you do that shit!”

V laughs at his reaction, her pisspoor first aid never failing to make Jackie uncomfortable, she tosses the bullet out of the window. She rubs her bloody fingers off on her pants, before pulling at her shirt, a little hole where the bullet struck.

“More bummed about my shirt than anything, Vik doesn’t need to see my mug tonight,” she signs, as if she doesn’t have a hundred more black crop tops.

“Fine, but don’t call me bitching if you’re hurting later tonight.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’re one to talk.” She signs quickly, whipping around in her seat to face him.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hijo de la chingada, V, Misty, this is it for me, I’m done for ahhhhh,” she whines aloud, dropping her tone and trying to mimic Jackie, grinning when he scrunches his face in response.

“I was sick!”

“Well, yeah, that’s what happens when you eat your weight in cheap-ass sushi!”

“It was all you can eat!”

“Pffft,” she sputters and squeals, laughing at his excuse, “Swear to god, Jack, only man I know who can take three bullets to the chest and keep going, but a tummy ache knocks you on your ass!”

“And you’re the only woman I-oh shit.”

Police lights cut across the bridge to Watson, a full police cordon blocking the way. At least four or five NCPD units standing between V and her bed. Because of fucking course they are. She groans and thunks her head  against the seat in frustration.

“Fuck me.”

“‘Preciate the offer, chica, but we gotta run that one by Misty first.” Jackie winks and she makes a gagging noise at him in return. But she’s unable to control the warmth the joke brings to her cheeks. That’s not a mental or emotional road she’s ready to venture down, she shuts the light off in the car, the last thing they need is pigs catching sight of the blood and deciding to give a shit.

Jackie slows the car down as they pull up to the blockade, he’s calmer than her, he’s been fast talking the NCPD his whole life. While no stranger to cops, they’ve been a more sporadic presence in the former nomad’s life, leaving her to fiddle with her choker. She turns off the translator tech, prepared to break out the puppy dog eyes and soft broken little voice if she has to.

A female officer saunters over to the driver’s side window, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and silver cyberware etching her forehead and chin. Her eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark shades.

“Watson's on lockdown till further notice. Necessary security measure,” she explains to the mercs. V can’t help but eye the bulky security robots, ready to blast them to smithereens if the NCPD deem it ‘necessary’.

“Officer, ma'am! Damn are we ever lucky we ran into you,” Jackie greets the officer, turning up the charm.

“Really… What's it that makes me so special?”

“Uh, a heart of gold? 'Course only somebody with a heart of gold can understand just how much I need to get back to my girl.”

“Your… girl?”

“Hm… that's a shame.”

“C’mon, look at him,” V slings her forearm onto Jackie’s shoulder then rests her chin there, making puppy dog eyes at the officer, “no model citizen maybe, but he’s a good kid.” She pats his chest for added effect.  

There’s a grin pulling at Jackie’s lips and she struggles not to smile in return, wanting to laugh at the silliness of it all. The officer sighs and turns away from the pair, the two taking the moment to make faces at each other, trying to make the other break and laugh.

Let them through. But they're the last,” she turns back to the mercs and they try to force serious expressions, “OK, on your way.”

“You have a good evening, now, officer… ma'am,” Jackie nods and starts to drive through the blockade.

V pulls away from Jackie’s side, instantly feeling colder away from his warmth, she twists to look forward. Watching neon lights and city people walking by. Sometimes it feels surreal. Not minutes ago she was shooting gangoons in the back of a van. Not an hour or so ago, she was pulling a woman out of an ice filled tub. Yet, the world keeps spinning, couples and families walking down the same streets her and Jackie have nearly died in so many times. No, no storm clouds, if she digs that hole she’ll need an excavator to get back out.

“So, you can be nice when you feel like it,” she signs and talks, content to use her voice at the moment, just her and Jackie after all.

“When am I not nice?”

“Uhhh, always!”

“I'm always never not nice!”

“Puh-lease!”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Oh, Jackie, I can’t possibly talk around strangers, you, Misty, Mama Welles, and Vik are the only people I can talk with.  But the moment it’s time to pull out the wool over a pig’s eyes, suddenly, you’re real talkative!”

“Tone is an important tool in manipulation, my eyes can only do so much.”

“Keep that in mind when you beg me to order your food for you.”

“What? No!”

Jackie laughs, warm and deep in his chest at her offense at the mere notion of having to be in charge of ordering her own lunch from now on. It's just so much easier to have Jackie do it, waitresses are much more used to weirdness in Night City, but there’s still that odd little look when she starts signing and her translator tech does its thing. Jackie still laughs about the time he made her order the lunch over the phone and they hung up as soon as they heard the artificial voice, assuming it was some scam.

“Oh shit…” V says, soft and low as they pull up towards an intersection, two men holding guns aiming at  a driver’s side window, some poor bastard panicking behind the wheel.

“Outta the car! Now! C'mon! Ain't got all day!” The armed man screams at them and V’s fingers twitch to grab her iron. Then a large police aircraft vehicle comes flying in, lights flashing.

“Check it out, V. Shit's goin' down,” Jackie says, trying to hunch down behind the wheel, which does nothing to hide his six foot five form.

“Aa, shit, they're here!” One of the gang members yells and they’re screaming at each other to shoot. A small group of officers deploy from the aircraft vehicle, the led blue adornments to their uniform and odd helmets that cover their eyes tell her they’re MaxTac. The officers start firing back at the gangers.

“NCPD's apex predators at work, gonk out there nothing but a midday snack.”

“Wonder why they’re busting out MaxTac for this? Just looks like a regular carjacking to me.”

“Who knows, corpo behind the wheel? Got a quota to meet?”

“To put on a show of intimidation.”

“Might be onto something with that one,” the gangers are shot dead, bleeding out on the ground around the car they tried to jack, “welp, shows over.  Poor bastards… but they had it comin'.”

They pull away from the conflict, nothing but the hum of the radio playing as Jackie drives her home. Her leg is bounces softly in the floorboard, her fingers tapping at the window sill, occasionally catching the wind. The feeling she’s more accustomed to after gigs, a restlessness, adrenaline and energy boiling over. Maybe she won’t just drop once she gets home, no longer bone tired. Oddly enough, the shootout seems to have lifted her spirits. She’ll take a high stakes, high adrenaline car chase over the bone weariness ther rescue put her in.

Jake is in Heywood, so he won’t be able to get through the cordon. Cecelia is probably working at Tom’s Diner tonight. If she’s near the end of her shift, V might be able to score a lay and late night pancakes. Her mood is still a bit too sour to hit up a bar or club for a stranger, but still feeling the need to work through this energy and tension. She was dreaming of nothing more than hitting the pillow, seeing if she could sleep soundly tonight, but now she doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep at all unless she gets some energy out.  She gets out her holophone and opens up Cecelia’s contact.

“Whatcha doing, jaina?”

“Texting Cecelia,” V shrugs, shoulder twinging in pain,  “y’know how it is.”

“Of course, shit gets the blood pumping, why you think I always got a date night planned after a big gig?”

“Thought that was so you could steal my car?” She teases, typing up her message to Cecelia but not sending it yet.

“That too, but after you nearly die, just gotta do something to feel alive.”

“I think we might just be perverts.”

“Eh, that too,” he laughs as they pull into her apartment complex’s parking garage, “we’re here.”

“What about you? Not likely to make it back to Heywood now…” She asks, holding her thumb over the send button, if Jackie can’t get back through he’ll be crashing at her place and she doubts he’s going to want to sleep on the couch listening to her and her fuckbuddy go at it.

“Chill, V. They'll let me through.”

“Sure about that?”

“Oh yeah. I'll play nice Jackie again,” he stops the car near the elevator doors, “go, have some fun, lord knows you need it.”

He sticks his hand out, V smacking her palm into his own, a quick shake then they bump their fists together. His hand practically engulfs her own, that foot and a half of size difference obvious even in the contrast of their hands. One of these days she’s going to strain her neck looking up to talk to him.

“Tell Misty I said ‘hi’.”

“I will. Ahí luego.”

Goodbyes said for the night, V grabs her mask from the backseat and steps out of the car, her joints and injury protesting the movement. Her combat boots stomp against the pavement as she calls up the elevator, giving a final wave to Jackie as he pulls out of the garage. She leans against the wall, on her good shoulder, sending the text to Cecelia.

V: you @ work???

The elevator dings and V steps inside, cringing at the sudden bright light of the elevator, a stark contrast to the dimness of the garage. Video screens play ads for energy drinks and cyberware; everything under the sun. Everything in neon bubblegum colors or horrific details, because shock value sells nearly as well as tits.  Her holo buzzes and V checks a text from T-Bug, the runner knows she’d rather text than call but the sudden message is strange nonetheless. Bug only reaches out when it has something to do with a job.

T-Bug: Forgot earlier,  a runner I know has something you could probably use. It's a runner shop outside of Kabuki.

For some reason she’s not shocked at all that Bug would text in full grammatically correct sentences. V can’t help but think the world would implode if T-Bug ever sent an emoji or emoticon.  But gifts are a little unusual for her, but for some reason the experienced netrunner is convinced she can teach V the craft.

V: thanx bug, thats sweet of ya~!

She’s promptly left on seen, no indication of Bug typing anything back,  and V can’t help but laugh. The more T-Bug acts skeeved out by her affection, the more she wants to tease her with it.

“Good evening, Night City!~”

The screens cut to Night After Night, the host Ziggy Q coming to sit at his desk, green hair and gold suit twinkling under his stage lights. V rarely watches this kind of thing or watches TV as a whole if she’s being honest, just more noise, but she finds herself unable to help watching as the elevator starts to move.

“My first guest for tonight is the president of The Church of El Yahu, The Last Emancipator and the bane of Arasaka’s PR department; one Reverend Colver.”

The camera cuts to an older man dressed in black and beige, seemingly lost among the neon pinks and yellows of the stage. He sits down on the plush magenta couch, nodding towards the host.

“Praise be to thee our Father in heaven.”

“And ouuur second guest is Karina Lee, host of the Chip In program, which promotes the use of cybernetic implants,” a woman with a thick dark afro of hair comes onto the stage, “ how’s life treating you beautiful?”

“Can’t complain, Ziggy,” Karina tells him, she looks much more in place than the Reverend as she sits down next to him,  bright clothes and heavy gold cyberward indented in her jaw, “thanks for having me.”

“Now, I’d like to have us talk about the most exclusive and highly sought after implant on the market today, Arasaka Corp’s Relic. But maybe we ought to make sure our fair audience is up to speed,” Ziggy says, waving a dramatic and manicured hand towards the camera before focusing back in on his guests, “Karina, what is the relic exactly? In a word, if you could?”

“In one word? I’d say, immortality.”

“Immortality? Really?”

V can’t help but roll her eyes at the dramatic wording and the over the top expressions the host makes. Nothing can make someone immortal, that's a pipe dream, even if it is possible it will never be feasible on a mass scale for anyone who isn’t rich. TV types always got to exaggerate, she figures.

“That’s right, the relic allows you to transfer the consciousness from a dying person, finding a new home for their soul on a transferrable chip. This person, they’ll never leave your side, a companion with you  forever in your own consciousness. Just imagine if-”

“Child, child-” the Reverend cuts her off, “think for a moment about what you’re saying! This relic is an abomination that feeds on human misery! It is an unnatural likeness, a golden calf born by false prophets! What’s more, this technology is just another tool of coercion and corruption, only the wealthy and powerful elite will have access. And they will pay any price in exchange for a chance at this so-called immortality. Arasaka speaks of preserving the soul but they can promise nothing more than a heartless, mindless, algorithm speaking with the voice of the departed.”

“Well, that is true that Arasaka Corp has specifically limited access to the relic in order to-”

“The promise is a lie,” the Reverend starts to stand, gesturing emphatically, “an evil lie, motivated by greed and lust for power-”

“HA, now that is rich,” Ziggy cuts off Colver’s ramblings with a laugh.

“Excuse me!?”

“False promises, greed, a lust for power,” Ziggy rolls his eyes, “well sounds an awful lot like a church to me!”

“Wha- how dare you?”

“Do you not promise a life after death? Do you not charge funeral fees to a family in mourning? Maybe the Reverend is just afraid of a little healthy competition, huh?”

“Competition,” the religious figure scoffs, “you believe everything in this world can be counted, measured, rationalized!”

“And wouldn’t we be right?” Karina interjects, “we can construct artificial brains, create new consciousnesses!”

“But I ask you why? What does that give us? Are we as a people on this earth any happier for it? You claim that this relic gives eternal life, but all I see is an eternity of suffering. Rather than say goodbye, we haunt ourselves with their voices, their presence, but-”

“What do you folks think? Who holds the truth, is it Ms. Lee or maybe Reverend Colver? That is up to you!” Ziggy gestures at a screen behind him, showing the two guests,  “Send Colver or Lee to 7892 to cast your vote and enter your name for a chance to win tickets to this year's playoffs! Until next time, Night City, toodles!~”

V sighs, as the program cuts out and more ads start to be blasted at her. The conversation a heavy one, now tinkering around in her skull. The idea of keeping a dead loved one around as an imaginary friend… she thinks of her mother instantly, the person whose death most gravely impacted her. If she had her mom still lingering around, sitting in her head, it sounds...strange. A part of her thinks she’d love it, to have her mother back, but eould she ever see it as her mother? Committing herself to a fantasy like that, it doesn’t sound healthy, at all. Death is natural, learning how to say goodbye is part of life, right? She can’t imagine her spending all her time talking to a ghost from the past.

Her holophone buzzes in her pocket and she realizes the elevator is on her floor, probably has been for a few minutes. She shakes her head, she doesn’t need anymore heavy shit in her skull. The relic has nothing to do with her, anyway. Wondering about what if’s and could be’s won’t get her anywhere. V gets her holophone from her pocket, a text from Cecelia, a much needed distraction and relief. She starts to text her regular hookup as she makes her way to her apartment.

Cecelia: Yeah, be off in an hour, why?

V: i have a proposition

Cecelia: ???

V: bring me pancakes and i make you cum ;)

V’s flirting skills continue to impress absolutely no one, but Cecelia is still into the merc,  so that’s really on her at this point.

Cecelia: Will you pay me back for the pancakes?

V: yee

Cecelia: Drop by your place around midnight, sound good?

V:  pls and thanx! :3

V slips the phone back into her pocket, opening her apartment door and slipping inside. She shuts the door behind and starts stripping off her clothes, she needs a shower before Cecelia gets here. The waitress probably wouldn’t be too excited to come in and see V covered in a layer of sweat and blood.  Clothes off she takes her hearing aids out and puts them on her desk before she makes the beeline for her shower.

She cranks the water up as hot as possible and steps under, her shoulder and scratches sting, but she focuses her energy on washing the blood and sweat away. V washes through her hair, muscles relaxing at the feeling of hot water pouring down on her, the smell of rose scented shampoo and conditioner lingering in the air as she washes.

She’s tempted to touch herself under the water, her soap slick thighs clenching together. It's tempting, still just riding that adrenaline high, it’d be nice to find some relief. But the bullet wound in her shoulder should be attended to first, she dug the bullet out in the car, but the injury still could use some first aid. She didn’t have anything to stitch it closed and she’s not sure it’d be the smartest idea to stitch herself in a moving car, not that she hasn’t done it before.

V shuts off her shower, ignoring her swollen clit and the tension in her core. She steps out of the water and stands in front of her bathroom sink, her reflection showing in the mirror. The merc grabs her first aid kit, getting out the stuff she needs to suture her shoulder.

Vik will bitch at her for it later, call her work shoddy, but she’s been taking care of her own injuries for years.  She doesn’t need to run to him for every little thing. She pats it dry first, leaving pink stains on her bathroom towel, then she pours some antiseptic peroxide on it. A curse on her lips at the sharp sting, she cringes and takes a deep breath, preparing the needle and suture. The needle pulls through her skin with a harsh pain, as she pulls her skin back together with a quick crude stitch.

Content with her oh so shoddy work, she finishes drying off and leaves the bathroom, dropping her dirty clothes in a laundry hamper to be mended and washed later. She checks the time on her holo, still thirty or so minutes before Cecelia said she’d drop in. V throws on an oversized black tee shirt and a pair of shorts it completely covers. Her skin feels warm, still smells like roses and honey, something about the warm cozy feeling makes that little fire inside come back.  She clenches her thighs together again, mentally cursing her sex drive, libido, hormones, whatever it is that makes it so she can put a needle through her bloodied skin and still want to cum immediately after.

There's a skip in her step as she rushes to scoop her phone and hearing aids off her desk, putting them on the little circular table next to her bed instead, so they’re easily in reach. Then she plops herself onto her bed, atop the covers and blankets, she sinks into them. She feels warm, skin soft and clean to the touch. When she stretches slightly in her bed, she feels a soft sound leaving her lips.

Her breasts feel soft under her shirt, squeezing and groping herself over her clothes. Sensitive pierced nipples stiffening under the fabric, she pinches them lightly, whimpering at the pressure. She presses her head back against her pillow, biting her lip as she puts a hand underneath her shirt, teasing her breast directly, playing with her piercings.  Each touch makes her slicker, makes her clit swell and beg to be touched.

V shoves a hand down into her shorts, pushing two fingers through the lips of her wet cunt. She presses them against her clit, groaning as she begins to rub, quick messy circles. Focused on just getting there, a harsh pressure and quick pace, squirming her hips against her own hand as she builds herself up. Pleasure pools in her center, building upon itself, growing higher and higher with each stroke of her clit.

A blue light goes off, strobing and bright enough to illuminate the room. Her phone buzzes on the side table with a notification. Someone knocking on her door, she wipes her slick fingers off on her thigh and quickly puts her hearing aids in.

“V!~ It’s Cece!” The older woman’s voice rings out and V jogs to the door, feeling like she’s about to combust.

She opens the door and Cecelia quickly steps inside. V hates the diner uniform, a yellow dress and apron. But Cecelia manages to be beautiful in anything, why on earth she wants anything to do with V is beyond the merc’s comprehension. She’s tall, though nearly everyone towers over V to some extent, with a cute shaggy pixie cut of dark hair. Olive skin with a dusting of freckles and amber eyes, far too beautiful to be rolling around in bed with some nomad turn street punk.

“I got extra honey and syrup for-”

She’s cut off by V’s lips in the middle of explaining what’s in the little white diner container. Her words dying on the merc’s tongue, V presses in deep, tasting all she can of Cecelia’s mouth, finding the taste of coffee and cigarettes awaiting her. A bitter taste, one she despises, but she ignores for the sake of her own lust. She presses the taller woman against the closed door, hands grabbing at the curve of Cecelia’s hips, pulling up on the dress of her uniform.

“V, V,” Cecelia breaks away from the kiss, panting, “you're gonna crush your pancakes.”

V rolls her eyes, taking the container from Cecelia’s hands and quickly placing it on her computer desk. Then she’s shoving a hand under the waitress uniform, Cecelia keening as V slips her hand into the older woman’s panties. The merc buries her face into her partner’s neck, licking, sucking and biting at her skin as she works her fingers against her clit. V braces her other hand against the door, sharply biting the expanse of skin against her lips. She gazes up at her fuckbuddy, the woman’s head thrown back against the door as she whimpers, V’s hand doesn’t stop working. She rubs the same two fingers she had on herself just moments before over Cecelia’s clit, the bundle of nerves swollen and slick. The merc’s hand is soaked in it already, she finds herself wondering if she’d find a puddle on her apartment floor if she looked down.

“You’re smoking again,” V whispers against Cecelia’s neck, marveling at the bruises her teeth have left behind. She knows the effect her voice has in these moments, so rarely heard by Cecelia, and when it is it’s husk with lust.

“So-” V twists her wrists and sinks those two fingers inside, “sorry, I fuck, V, stre-fuck-stressful day, I fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“That hardly seems fair, what did I taste like?” V pumps her fingers steadily, feeling slick run down her wrist.

“Li-aH, ah, uh, honey, you ta-taste like h-oney, al-always do~!” Her hips squirm to meet V’s thrusting fingers, trying to chase her own pleasure.

“So, you get honey and I get to lick the inside of an ashtray?”

“I sa-said,” V adds a third finger, speeding up her movement, “Fuck, I’m sorry!’

“Hmmm, I don’t think sorry cuts it here, Cece.” V starts to rub her thumb clumsily over Cecelia’s clit, watching the woman moan and squirm. Her thighs are vice tight around V’s wrist, teeth sinking into her lip. She’s close.

“V, fuck please, I, fu-uck!” She whines and pleads, V’s not even sure what for, if it’s too much or not enough.

“Fine, I’ll forgive ya, but I gotta get the taste out of my mouth first.”

V drops to her knees, yanking Cecelia’s underwear down to her ankles just to bury her face between the older woman’s thighs. The merc uses her hands to keep her partner’s legs spread and gives a heavy messy lick of Cecelia’s clit, ensuring her tongue piercing makes contact with the sensitive nerves. Already built up to near orgasm, Cecelia screams out, the lick sending her right over the edge. Slick gushes onto V’s mouth and chin, coating her tongue in a heavy layer that she swallows before she starts licking again. Pubic hair scratches at her nose as she laps and licks at Cecelia’s cunt. Licking her through orgasm and prolonging it into another, and another, drawing the high out with every lave of her tongue. Cecelia squirms and thrust her hips, sloppily humping against the merc’s face, she knots her fingers in V’s bleach blonde hair. It becomes too much, orgasms drawn out to long, tears forming at the corner of Cecelia’s eyes.

“St-stop!”

V pulls away instantly, face a flushed mess of slick and lust. She slowly pulls away from Cecelia, standing up, the taller woman’s knees are buckled and she’s leaning all her weight against the door. The two pant, each catching their breath and V looks down on the floor, her suspicions confirmed at the wet droplets, Cecelia managing to drip down onto the wood.

“I, uh, take it you’re a little worked up tonight?”

V makes a wiggly ‘kind of’ hand gesture, winking at Cecelia, smirking. She can’t help but feel a sense of pride looking at Cecelia; panting, neck marked, underwear around her ankles, and still dripping.

“That taste better than cigarettes?” Cecelia asks, smiling and still out of breath as she kicks off her heels and  steps out of her panties towards V. She cups V’s slick sodden chin, amber eyes soft as she brushes her thumb across the younger woman’s bottom lip.

“Much.”

Then their lips connect again, the sweetness of slick cutting down on the bitter taste of Cecelia’s bad habit. They lick into each other’s mouth, press into each other, pull away slightly; all to fall back into it. V starts pulling at the buttons of Cecelia’s uniform, revealing inch after inch of cleavage. She pushes it down off the older woman’s shoulders, leaving her in nothing but a bra. Heavy breasts surrounded by black lace, but only for a moment then V’s greedy hands unhook it, pulling the last bit of fabric from Cecelia’s body.

“On the bed,” V signs and speaks, words slurred with desire.

Cecelia gives a soft laugh and V discretely scratches at her hearing aid, the device starting to rub the inside of her ear raw, sex sweat irritating it. This type of tech became completely waterproof millennia ago, but they can still chafe. Refocusing her attention, she stares at Cecelia laying down in her bed. A beautiful face is no doubt what first drew her eye to the waitress, but Cecelia’s curvy soft figure was next. Large breasts that spill over most of her bras, a soft stomach, and thick thighs. A contrast to V’s own body, the merc more petite and curves more...subtle.

V doesn’t hesitate another moment, straddling Cecelia’s waist, the older woman’s hands instinctively reading for the merc’s hips. A twinge of pain when Cecelia’s unknowingly brushes against the small injury there, V ignores it in favor of pulling her shirt off over her head, throwing it onto the floor. She expects eyes raking over her small pert breasts, a look of desire in Cecelia’s eyes. But finds concern instead, fingers reach out to V’s shoulder, nearly brushing the crude stitches.

“What hap-”

V grabs Cecelia’s wrists and pins them to the bed, burying her lips into the older woman’s neck again. She sucks and bites, hoping the action gets her point across; don’t touch that, don’t ask that, don’t push. V likes fucking Cecelia. They are fuckbuddies, but Cecelia has a way of asking questions, wanting to know more beyond how skilled the merc is with her tongue. So, she has to steer it back on course, latching her mouth around one of Cecelia’s breasts, sucking and licking at her nipple. Cecelia moans and whimpers when V teases her chest, giving the other breast the same treatment and pulling off with a wet pop.

“Fuck, point made, V,” Cecelia swallows hard, “you still have any straps laying around?”

“Want me to fuck you with it?”

“No, uh, wanna watch you ride it”

V’s never scrambled so fast to get her toy box out from under her bed, a little chilled at leaving Cecelia’s warmth, she pulls her treasure trove out. She chooses a toy, essentially double sided and strap strap on. One end is a vibrating bulb likes shape and the other a dildo. V strips off her shorts before clambering back onto the bed. She lightly taps Cecelia’s thigh, licking her lips when the brunette spreads them for her.  The ribbed bulb slides easily inside of Cecelia and her high pitched whine lets V know it’s doing its job, pressing on the g-spot, when theyfuck it should grind against her clit too. Once inside, the rest of the toy sticks out, making it look like Cecelia has a slick black silicon cock.

Then V turns the vibration on, Cecelia screaming out as it buzzes and vibrates inside of her. V can’t help but laugh at her overstimulated and sensitive partner, she pins Cecelia’s hands back down to the mattress and straddles her. Her wet neglected cunt hovering just over the vibrating dildo, she kisses at Cecelia’s jaw. The brunette’s eyes are closed tightly, face contorted in pleasure as the toy works it’s magic.

“Thought you wanted to watch me?” V teases, smirking against Cecelia’s skin, then sinks down on top of the toy.

V whines and whimpers as the vibrating toy fills her, Cecelia grabbing her hips, amber eyes now firmly watching the blonde. Moans and squeals echo throughout the room. V fucks herself on the toy, Cecelia’s hips thrusting up to meet the movement, slamming the toy further into her each time. They’re both sensitive, Cecelia from being overstimulated since she walked in the room and V from neglecting her own needs until now.  Heavy squelching noises ring out where the toy plunges in and out of V’s cunt; mixing with the buzzing of the toy  and the clap of their flesh meeting on each thrust. There’s a tension in V’s center that grows tighter and tighter inside of her, pleasure building upon pleasure. Each slide of the toy inside of her brings her closer and closer to her end.

She lets go of Cecelia’s wrists, the hunched over position getting uncomfortable, V shifts her hands back onto the brunette’s legs, leaning back to support her weight that way. Then Cecelia thrusts, angle slightly changed and hitting impossibly deep, too much, too much. The tension snaps and V’s overwhelmed by pleasure, she bounces on the toy through her orgasms, yelling out as she rides out the waves of ecstasy.

A soft whine leaves V’s lips, when she starts to come down and the buzzing toy is too much, Cecelia looks about ready to pass out and V realizes there’s no way all the slick where they connect is from her.  The merc whimpers pulling off of the toy and turning off it’s vibrations, earning a sound from Cecelia who gasps when V gently pulls it out.

The toy is soaked; their thighs and the bed where their hips met too. Too tired to care about organization right now, V casually throws the toy to the side, she’ll clean and store it properly later. She instead collapses next to Cecelia, the two gathering their breath.

She’s not sure how much time passes, just laying next to Cecelia, but V’s heart rate and breathing calms down. Ther merc yawns, her ears hurt worse now. But, the orgasm was worth it. Her stomach is starting to hurt too.

“Your pancake are probably cold by now,” Cecelia tells her with a laugh and-

Oh fuck, V forgot her pancakes. She jumps out of bed, stumbling on her way to grab her food

“Did you just trip over a used dildo?”

“Not answering that.”

V brings the food back to the bedside table,  throwing her oversized shirt back on, before climbing into bed with her meal. She folds her legs and sits the meal in her lap, facing the side of the bed with Cecelia sitting next to her.

“You mind if I borrow some sleep clothes?”

V gives a thumbs up, opening her food container, her stomach growls and she realizes she hasn’t eaten since probably noon. Cecelia got her a stack of pancakes covered in honey, maple syrup, and whip cream. Even a little carton of milk packed tightly in with the food, probably her attempt to keep V from drinking too much Nicola.

“I assume that also means you’re okay with staying the night? Marlow’s at her dad’s this week, so the apartment’s kind of lonely…”

Another thumbs up, taking a big bite of food as Cecelia starts to look through her closet. Anything that fits V properly will be too tight on the brunette, but V’s collection of oversized sleep shirts should be fine. The merc watches half heartedly as Cecelia pokes through the old tees, already having devoured half of her pancake stack.

“Samurai?” Cecelia raises an eyebrow, looking at a bagging black and red shirt, the one she kept that originally belonged to Ava, “you listen to dad rock?”

“Not mine, don’t wear that one!”  V quickly signs with one hand, sometimes she wears it and can still convince herself it still  smells like her old love… She doesn’t want it smelling like anyone else and maybe that’s stupid, maybe that’s weird, she doesn’t know or care. It means something to her. She doesn’t know or give a fuck about the band on it, some shitty punk group no ones given a damn about in years, but it belonged to Ava. That’s what matters.

“Okay, no problem,” Cecelia seems to understand, not noticing or at the very least not mentioning V’s odd tension around it. She instead throws on an oversized white shirt before coming back to the bed.

The shirt on V reaches past her knees, but on Cecelia it hits around the mid thighs. V feels the brunette’s warmth as their sides touch, sitting close together. V shoves another chunk of pancakes in her mouth, nearly inhaling it.

“At least drink some milk, you and that friend of yours are the worst about chewing your food. I swear, I’ve seen you both choke five or six times in one meal.”

V nods and grabs the little carton of milk, her stomach dropping when she sees the back of it. A woman’s face stares back at her, a little different, more cleaned up and hair on her head,  but still bone chillingly familiar. Sandra Dorsett, a little message under her picture asking if anyone’s seen her.

“Something wrong, V?” Cecelia puts a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles, then her eyes fall on the carton, “you know her?”

V shakes her head, because she doesn’t, not really. And even then, it's a moot point, the ad is old and Sandra is safe now… probably.  Not like V actually knows, she could have died in the Trauma Team vehicle, before they even made it to the hospital. And god only knows what the long term effects will be and she’s the lucky one.

“Well, they found her, from what I heard.”

V raises an eye at Cecelia, turning to face her a bit more.

“Caught it on the news just before I clocked out, they haven’t released the footage of the rescue yet, but apparently she was pulled out of some Scavenger hideout. Trauma Team got her and say she’s going to make a full recovery, so, good news…” She drags it out, like she’s testing V’s reaction trying to see if she can get anything from the merc.

“It’s good,” V signs, Cecelia’s eyes falling to the mercs hands, “but, you know Scavengers… there was probably twenty, thirty more bodies there, left to rot because they didn’t have enough money for Trauma to care.”

“Yeah, it's fucked but, hey, one person is better than none.”

“I guess… I hear even the people who get saved are fucked up afterwards. They don’t remember anything, until something triggers a flashback and next thing they know they feel like the worlds crashing in on them.”

“Won’t be easy, for sure, I can’t even imagine what that poor girl has gone through, but people are resilient.”

“Got to be,” V signs, chewing her lip, “the world’d eat them alive otherwise.”

“You got a good heart, V, you know that?” Cecelia tells her, tucking a strand of hair back behind the merc’s.

“Gross.”

“Yes, yes, I know, big bad merc can’t have feelings, fear her, blah blah blah,” Cecelia rolls her eyes and V blows a raspberry at her. Then stands to put what’s left of the food on the side table, the brief moment of vulnerability putting her off her pancakes. Cecelia always manages to pry something from her.

“Let's get to sleep, before I kill you,” she signs, then gestures to Cecelia to get to bed.

Cecelia curls up with V’s pillow, nestling into the sheets while V pulls out her hearing aids, rubbing at the raw skin. Putting her hearing aids back down, she sees the text notification on her phone. From Jackie, the message is short enough to display in the preview window.

Jackie: got big news, chica! B-I-G BIG!!! talk to you in the morning, hehehe!~

V lets out a huff of air, smiling and rolling her eyes all at once. He’s dramatic, always has been. His idea of big news is probably some new restaurant he found, maybe he won some eddies on a boxing match.  She shakes her head and puts the phone aside for now, crawling under the covers. Cecelia lifts an arm, allowing V to curl up close with her head on Cecelia’s chest as she drifts off to sleep.

[sulfur1c-4cid]

rest

[gayass-ery]

can I like go to bed forever maybe

[the-fairy-thief]

Lee Jeno

The City of Darkness | pt. 1

TW: mentions of death, prostitution, rape, very sensitive story just warning y’all

(A/n) This is based off of any cliche zombie movie ever made

This is the City of Darkness, once downtown Seoul. The bustling city where Korean dreams came true.

It’s now named City of Darkness for its lack of light and infestation of human beings who enjoy eating others, the infected. Zombies.

Flashback

“Eomma!” I screamed for the woman who raised me as she cradled my father. My screaming, shifting father.

His eyes were glassy, filled with haze. His blue veins stood out against his sun tanned skin from the years of working outside. He was gone. Even I knew it.

She sobbed, she just wouldn’t let him go. “Eomma! He’s gone! We need to leave, EOMMA! EOMMA NO!”

Flashback over

“Soyeonie. Come to oppa.” I swallowed the glob of spit in the back of my throat as the dirty man held his hands out to me. I was disgusted with myself, this is my life. Number 20.

Jeno POV

“Now when this thing started, we were all there. Don’t forget that, those people are our people down there.” The sergeant preached.

I was getting ready to be sent back to South Korea for recovery of survivors and to check out the area, the damage, the zombies.

I was 16 when it started, I still remember Sung-ho’s body being turned to the tv as it told us a mysterious case of the flu was discovered in downtown Seoul.

He was so scared he cried, his eyes were swollen for hours. He’s always had some anxiety.

...

“Jeno, you know you don’t have to go. You don’t have to be this soldier.”

“But eomma, you know what happens if I don’t do this, this could pay for us to finally be comfortable. You realize that? I’ll be fine.” I hugged her, my brilliant mother.

She was a nurse when this whole thing happened, she saw the first case with her own eyes. She didn’t believe it either. Nobody did.

...

“Lee Jeno!” “Here, sir”

“This is exciting huh?” the guy next to me smiled. War junkies rose from this predicament. Trigger happy guys.

“Yeah. It sure is.” I leaned back trying to soothe my anxiety.

Flashback

“I love you, Jeno.” she whispered as we laid in her bed. Tame Impala played over her speaker as we just held one another.

“My dad is suspected to have it.” Miyah whispered.

“Hey, don’t think like that, he could be completely fine, just a seasonal thing.”

Little did I know, her dad worked at the plant where it started.

Flashback over.

The boat rocked on the waters on our way to South Korea. When all of this went down my mom secured us a spot in Hong Kong, one for me, one for her, and one for Sung-Ho.

I pulled the picture out of my pocket of my family, and stroked my dear mother’s face.

“Ok boys! We’re coming up on the shore. Remember the mission, scope the areas and return in 2 days. That’s the only hard part, you got this jackasses!”

God I hope so.

Soyeon POV

“That was great wasn’t it hun.” He stroked my arm with his calloused hands. “Yeah.”

This was the agreement with Infantry 102. I get protection in exchange for ownership. Free food, clothes, everything I need.

The giant 20 on my shoulder was a reminder of my deal with the devils themselves.

“Soyeon, what’d you get? 50?” I stayed with Jisung as an agreement that if I share profits, he’ll keep me safe.

“40. That’s 90 today.” Better than most days. Most days I’m lucky to finish with 50.

“Goddamnit, I thought the idiot would’ve handed over everything he got. These men are desperate.” Jisung sighed.

“I need to lie down, long day.” I went to the cot on the floor of our one room flat. The one room we pay 80 a month for.

...

“Soyeon, wake up! Did you hear that?” It was maybe 2 am and I was in no position to hear anything.

“Fucking no, what is it?”

“They’re coming.”

“Who?”

“The military. I overheard one of the guys on the last working radio. They intercepted a signal of some guys from Hong Kong. This is our chance.” He was so excited, I forget Jisung is 17 sometimes. He was a year younger than me but looked 25 at least.

“Shut up, they’re not going to get us. You know what the infantry will do to them. They don’t take help kindly.”

“Yeah and? This is our chance.” He was right, but it was a tiny chance.

Jeno POV

“I FOUND A CAR OVER HERE.” a guy yelled.

“Yo, shut the fuck up we’re gonna get caught.” We snuck to the SUV and hopped in looking to patrol.

“You got this.” I whispered.

“Fuck yeah you do, we aren’t letting you be a pussy.” One of the guys overheard my inner monologue.

Flashback

“Jeno stoppp!” she giggled as I had her pinned down. My hands were relentlessly poking at her sides, making her squirm.

“Make me.”

“Okay,” she kissed me, one of our very many shared moments. “Love you, Jeno.”

“I love you too, Miyah.”

Flashback over.

“YO WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.” I was shaken from my daydream to see hands all over the windows.

“Fucking zombies, step on the gas and run them down!” I yelled. “For fucks sake.”

I swear to god if I go out to these cannibals, I’m gladly going to hell.

Jihoon did what he was told and stepped on the gas, tossing me to the side making me hit my head off of the side of the shitty SUV.

“KEEP GOING.” “OH MY GOD.” Screams filled the car.

“SHIT THE CAR IS OUT OF GAS” as we were surrounded by zombies, great timing.

“Bust out the windows and start shooting boys.” That plan went well until someone decided to get their gun taken by the zombie. Good thing I’m surrounded by fucking idiots.

“We need to get out, get a better angle for shooting.” I opened the sun roof and hopped through the top, shooting at every direction until they were no longer surrounding us.

“Shit man, that was close.”

“You all are fucking stupid assholes.”

“Look we need to stay a team if we want to survive.”

“Well we should get out of here,” I remarked.

We got out and started walking.

“Yo man, is that a compound?” I glanced up from the ground. A fence surrounded a group of buildings. Survivors.

“We should be careful, we don’t want them to think we’re a threat.” I warned.

“Yeah, man.”

Soyeon POV

I heard laughing from outside of my window, they probably found them. A group of scavengers.

When the infantry finds scavs they have a tendency of making them feel less than welcome.

“HELP, LOOK WE’RE HERE TO HELP YOU GUYS.”

“Could it be, the military? Who Jisung was talking about.” I thought out loud.

Jeno POV

We said we came in peace but this is what we got, stripped naked with numbers burned onto our backs. I’m 97.

“Jeno, I don’t wanna die.” It was Jihoon.

“We don’t know what they’re doing but we probably aren’t being killed.”

“It’s your boys’ lucky day. Commander wants to meet with you personally before the fun begins.

...

“Boys, welcome to Infantry 102. We hope we’ve made our good impressions. We got ladies, guns, and a black market in case you were wondering. We got it all, and you can stay for a price. How’s that sound.”

“Just let us leave! We won’t bother you anymore we promise.” Jihoon begged.

“HAha, no. You see, how do we know you won’t deliver our location to your bosses and they won’t send in people to exterminate us. You’re staying here, or at least your corpse is.”

I sighed. This is going to be a long night.

[A/N: this is my first ever piece of writing pls go easy on her.]

[monochromemedic]

Okay, story prompt time! Reader and Deacon sheltering from a rainstorm and maybe cuddling together for warmth while they talk about things, figured it’d be sweet!

“What the fuck, that storm came out of no where!” I cried over the roar of the rain hitting against the land and rumble of the forgotten land, racing towards Deacon soaking inside of the small shack. He looked drowned, wig sliding off his head and white shirt clinging to his body. We’d only had just noticed the storm as it rolled in, faster than any storm I’d ever seen and began to douse the land. Luckily we were trying to salvage the ruins of a small town, thinking that there might have been a Railroad cache to grab, so the coverage was available if you tried to ignore the half destroyed buildings. Deacon chuckled, straightening his pompadour wig as he walked through the rubble of concrete and shrapnel.  “Guess the storm didn’t want us to find that cache. Maybe the cloud is a secret leftover experiment from the Institute! Raindrops tracked to our awesomeness to stop us in our tracks.” He exaggerated, hands waving to the sky to strengthen his story. I grunted lightly, passing by him to look through the giant hole in the building, staring at others to see if they were worth the trek to try to hide in. They weren’t the best, some just rocks in the ground, others looking as if they would fall over if he leaned against he wrong pillar. “It’s pouring but its not much, maybe we could still search for the cache. What do you say was the hidey place?” “Uh... red brick fireplace. In the stack” “That wouldn’t be too hard to find, If you wanna hide in the house you can, I kinda wanna find this shit and head back.” I stepped around wooden splinters as Deacon shrugged, pulling out a smoke and lighting it. “Aye, Aye Boss. I’ll keep watch here. Make sure no mole rats take the base.” I rolled my eyes, heading back into the hard rain to scavenge. The water was like a fog with how dense it fell. Things that were too far away became a grey blur, and dark shapes that was probably dangerous if there was  fight. Then again, who the hell would be travelling around in this weather. Only idiots like me. The ground was soaked, boots sliding in the mud that made me fall a couple of times in the quickly forming puddles. Rubble scratched at my pant legs, and my glasses fogged with rain drops. It was shitty, but that cache was so damn tempting. Caps, a few guns, armor and food?  It’d be a great addition to the settlement and a horrible thing for a scav that’d have lesser intentions to find. Deacon said this was a good find, said he saw the gun fired once and blasted a hole in a brick wall. It was badass, and truth be told I wanted to pocket it for myself. By now I was feeling heavy, water logging me down and the cold making me shiver. God damn it how hard was it to find a bright red chimney? A light flashed against the sky, causing me to look up. A thunderstorm, I had a fear of it when I was a child, and never liked to travel in them. The ground shook as thunder boomed all be a bit too close for comfort, causing me to go cold in fear. The childlike phobia had began to crept in, and the need for a sick ass gun all but vanished. I turned in place, searching around for the building Deacon took shelter in but, with the rain it was impossible to try to find it. My footsteps began to quicken, pulling themselves out of the quicksand like mud as my eyes darted from shape to shape. That one? No This one? God damn it no. Another flash of light and an almost quicker reaction. A cacophonous ringing sound echoed through the air and shook Earth like an earthquake. It made my ears hurt and I stumbled back, falling to the mud as I saw the flash of lightening hit a tree not too far from me, blinding me as I screeched in fear and pain. When I opened my eyes again, forcing myself to try to focus past the black dots that tried to stop my vision I saw the tree, smoke rising from the large splintered wood from where the lightening hit. I was scared, shaking as I tried to push myself up from the soft ground. I screamed again as I felt hands on my shoulders, pulling me up and dragging me through the torrent, shouting for Deacon’s help. My own voice was muffled, ears still ringing from the blast of sound. I couldn’t see whoever grabbed me, I couldn’t hear, only loud muffled speech. It was only when the man spun me around did I see Deacon was the one holding me, a worried look on his face, rain spilling down his face as he spoke. His mouth was moving but all I could hear was muted words. And then it all came back. “-Me, It’s Deacon! Hello? Can you hear me? God if your deaf i’ll feel like absolute shit, come on!” “Deek... I hear, I ... there was a tree it got stru-” He sighed in relief before interrupting me starting to drag me through the storm until we were back in the dry remains of the building. “Yeah, no I saw. Holy shit that could of been you, you could have become a-a crispy little Jenna flake! No more hunting, you’re staying inside, no buts.” I nodded as we walked to the small place that Deacon had set up, lantern already lit up and set to the side, a book and still smoking cigarette against the ground. He must have dropped it to come chase me. He snuffed it out with a boot before he began to strip, placing the clothes on some broken wooden banners before flopping back to the ground, the only thing on was his underwear. “ Another pair of clothes gone, all my disguises are soaked. You might wanna do the same.” I tried to not look at him, eyes darting away as my cheeks burned bright.  “What you wanna get sick? As much as i’d love to play nanny, taking care of you barfing every 5 steps through dangerous part of the Commonwealth doesn’t seem like the best idea. I swear, I won’t look. I’m just gonna read my book.”  He raised his hands as if to say he was not guilty before picking his book back up, trying to find the page he was on. I debated for a long while, slumping my bag against the wall before giving in, hanging my clothes on the banner and sitting down not too far from Deacon. I was shivering, curled into a ball as I looked around where we were camping, feeling like a complete idiot for what I did. A cold, shaking, naked idiot. I pushed my head into my knees, trying to get whatever warmth I could get from myself, only to feel wet flesh hit my own and the presence of another. I peaked up from my ball, seeing Deacon was right next to me, still reading his book with a small smile, acting like nothing was wrong. I could feel from his leg that he was shivering as well.  “...what are you reading?” I muttered, raising my head cautiously. “It’s a thriller mystery, story about a detective trying to find a murderer in a big city. It’s pretty good, I like trying to find who the murderer is before the reveal.” He explained, moving his book a bit over so I could look at the page. “Sounds nice... listen i’m sorry I-” “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just try to not think about how awkward this is and try not to get sick. But I mean... if you do I make a MEAN brahmin broth soup. So you got that to look forward to.” I smirked I gave a little huffy laugh, starting to get more comfortable and stretch my body out. “I might need to take you up on that.” I continued to stare at the book, only occasionally looking him over before getting embarrassed at the entire situation and dart back to the book. It probably happened 3 or 4 time before Deacon spoke up. “So, Detective Carter, he’s been on the work force for like 6 years and this is the biggest case he’s had in a while, career changing. He’s so stuck on it it’s eating him alive and he’s starting to lose it. The murderers are bad but seem familiar and right now he’s so close to connecting the dots of why they seem that way.” He explained before clearing his throat and beginning to read out loud from the book, even doing voices for different characters. I couldn’t help but smile at that, starting to listen in to the story as I scooted closer to him, head leaning on his arm to stare at the words as we waited out the storm together.

[reylo-trash-4ever]

FRIENDS IT IS I. HERE WITH MORE REYLO FANFICTION

Can’t believe I actually wrote this in one sitting... sorry if it’s shitty but I just wanted to get this ‘exposition’ stuff out of the way so that the REAL fun may begin! WHOOHOO!! Get ready for a wild ride my reylos!

As always, MUCH LOVE to my besties @scav-eng-er and @mojona1999 for being the coolest ReyloMates ever and for suffering through my endless snl “live tweeting” with me!

And special shout out to @lana-n95 and @firethebluesky for always supporting me. Enjoy! 

THE GAME: Chapter 3 (a Modern Reylo AU)

Word count: 2850

His voice was low and silky. He must have regained his composure before she did as she felt the skin of her palms being pierced by nails from fists she didn’t know she clenched. Her vision focused on him and him alone, as if they were suddenly the only people in the world. The surroundings faded and there was a white hot anger swelling in her from the very tip of her toes on up. 

“Oh good, I see you two have already me then?” Amilyn’s voice somehow found its way through the ringing in Rey’s ears, but she could do nothing besides stare into the face of the mysterious man before her. She didn’t respond, and there was an awkward pause where she realized the question had been directed her way.

“Not exactly,” the man spoke up first, answering for her, “we ran into each other last night, but nothing more.” 

The casual way he blew her off made her anger boil further and she noticed the subtle jab at ‘running’ into each other. If she remembered that encounter correctly, it was his carelessness and haste that caused the collision. She had nothing to do with it, and she hated the way he already seemed to twist the narrative to make it look like she was to blame.

“So you haven’t been properly introduced then?” Amilyn asked while motioning for Rey to take a seat opposite her and next to the man, who still stood. Her feet felt like they were stuck in place, and it was like walking through thick jello with every step she forced herself to take closer to them. She finally made it to the chair, giving Amilyn a nod and the smallest twitch of a smile in thanks. She took her seat and noticed that the man remained standing until she was fully below him. Only when Amilyn also sat, did he lower himself to their level, but even sitting down his presence seemed to flaunt over them. 

“Rey, this is Kylo Ren. He’s been with the company for a few years now, but he travels between firms so you probably haven’t had a chance to see him work in action before now. He’s an accomplished lawyer with many cases under his belt, and his father is-”

“That’s enough Amilyn,” Kylo cut off his superior before she could continue. Rey gaped at his audacity and waited for the cold response of Amilyn, but it didn’t come. Instead, she did the last thing Rey expected; she apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, Ren. I didn’t think it would be an issue here.” Her voice did come off as slightly chilled and Rey detected a greatly hidden offense, but it was nothing like the stern tone she often took with her employees. Rey couldn’t believe what she was hearing and wondered who this ‘Kylo’ had to be to make Amilyn the one to apologize when he was clearly in the wrong. 

“As I was saying, Rey” she continued, turning to look at her again, “I’m assuming you already made the connection that Kylo is who you will be working the Terrio case with. He will be an incredible asset to this specific case and a wonderful addition to our team. I’ve long awaited the days when he would return to us.”

Even though they were praising, there was a delicacy in Amilyn’s words, as if she were afraid that by saying the wrong thing, Kylo would react poorly. Rey tried to keep her eyes trained on the woman in front of her, but she dared a few glances at the man. She could feel his demeanor shift from pompous superiority to boredom. Amilyn was speaking as if he were her own son, something Rey found herself alarmingly jealous of, and he was on the verge of acting like a teenager who couldn’t care less.

There was a pause in the conversation where any normal person would show their gratitude towards such high praise, but Kylo didn’t respond. After a few more awkward moments where both of the woman simply stared at him, he finally spoke.

“Now that all of that is out of the way, are we ever going to get to start on this so called ‘important’ case?” Kylo leaned back in his seat, propping his left foot over his right knee and taking up an impossible amount of space with his lengthy form. 

“Ben,” Amilyn sighed, dropping her professional airs and rubbing her forehead with her hand.

“I told you not to call me by that name,” Kylo snarled suddenly, but Amilyn continued without even seeming to notice. Rey wondered why she called him ‘Ben’ instead of the previously mentioned ‘Ren’. Amilyn was not one to make simple errors on something as important as a name. 

“If you’re going to work with us, you need to have more respect for our process. Your mother told me that you were willing to cooperate here, and I fully expect that to happen. I will not go easy on you because of your parentage and you will listen to what I say.” 

Rey felt like she was put in the middle of some kind of family quarrel and she suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. She looked to the floor, hoping that was the respectful thing to do, and heard Kylo try to make retorts, but Amilyn kept giving him no time to cut in. Should she leave? This didn’t really feel like it was about her anymore and she didn’t know what to do, or even if she should do anything at all. 

“Need I remind you of the consequences if this doesn’t turn out like your mother hoped it would?” Amilyn said in a hushed town, and Rey could sense a threat when she heard one. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kylo clench the handles of his chair so hard that his knuckles went white. 

There was another long silence and Rey was about to scream from discomfort, every inch of her body begging her to run away, but finally it was broken by Amilyn. 

“I’m sorry, Rey, we’re going to have to cut this short. I’ll fill you in on the details when I’m finished here. Please close the door on your way out.” 

Rey knew it as an instant dismissal and she shot out of her seat, thankful for an excuse to get the hell out of that situation. She practically leapt from the room, crossing the long distance between the doorway and the chairs in a mere few strides. 

It wasn’t until she was fully out of the room, the door almost shut behind her, did she realize she left her bag with her laptop and case files inside. She silently cursed herself, wishing to god she didn’t have to go back in.

Mustering up all of her courage, she meant to knock and go back, but the conversation coming from inside made her stop. She knew she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she couldn’t help it when she heard her name. 

“Rey is incredibly talented, Ren, and I want you to teach her,” Amilyn sounded more serious and intense than she previously had. Rey wondered if she had been putting on an act in front of her, or maybe it had been for her? 

“She’s a kid!” Kylo hissed. 

“She’s a woman with high potential,” Amilyn corrected. Rey’s heart fluttered with the praise, “and I will not have you ruining it for me. This is your last chance to make your past mistakes right. Your uncle asked me to-”

“My uncle is a piece of shit!” Kylo yelled, and Rey heard his chair skid on the floor. She imagined him angrily rising from his seat with enough force to slide the chair out from under him. His intimidating height gave her those chills again as she could see the scene in front of her as clear as day. 

“Luke is a legend at this firm and if you want to hide your relation to him and your mother, that’s your choice and none of my business. But, you are sure as hell going to have to keep your temper in check.” Amilyn’s voice was as cold as ice now and Rey found herself wanting to shiver with a new kind of chill. She prayed she would never have to hear that directed towards her. 

It seemed to have done something to Kylo as well. There was a beat in their conversation and when he spoke again, his tone had calmed somewhat and his words were slow.

“I did not come out of my own volition, or because I had any desire to be here, in the slightest. You will be wise to remember that, Holdo.” 

“And you will be wise to treat your superiors with respect, Ben Solo.”

Rey’s mind clicked with something at the name. Weren’t the women in the office talking about a ‘Ben’ the other night? And Amilyn had used it just moments before. Was it not just a slip of the tongue? 

What caught Rey’s attention more than anything was the family name she used directly after. Solo… why was that so familiar to her? 

Suddenly it hit her like as fast and as forceful as a train. Solo was the name often associated with the whole Skywalker company. If she remembered her research right - which she always did - Solo was the last name of the man who helped the CEO create to company. He co-owned the business, although he himself didn’t practice law. Luke Skywalker, the world renowned and super famous lawyer created the business with his brother in law, Han Solo. Han married Luke’s sister, Leia, and they had a son together who Luke took under his wing from a very young age. The stories regarded him as a genius and he was quickly in line to take over the company for the both of them when he came of age. 

Except, he apparently wanted nothing to do with it. He was a spoiled rich boy born into high society New York who had a silver spoon thrust into his mouth since he was a baby. Even though he was known to abhor those of his class, his attitude was always that of someone who regarded himself ‘better’ than everyone else. He was reportedly one of the biggest assholes you could ever meet, but everyone constantly sucked up to him because of the standing in life that his friendship, and money, would gain them. Rey thought that sounded like a very lonely way to live. 

The rumors were that he and his uncle used to be very close, but they had a huge falling out, and it was the reason for Skywalkers early retirement. The company scrambled without him and his sister, Leia Organa, took over in his stead. She ran the business fairly, but when it caused a rift between her and her husband, they split shortly after. Everyone said the divorce was their sons fault because of his rowdy and rebellious antics and they couldn’t control him without Luke’s help.

That’s when Ben Solo fell off the face of the earth. Rey heard of this ‘Kylo Ren’ but she never suspected it was a fake persona for the man trying to hide his family name. The realization of everything suddenly hit her. Amilyn Holdo wanted her to work with the CEO’s prodigy nephew?! The son of the current leader and of the infamous Solo?!

She realized that Amilyn must have high expectations of her, and the thought was almost crushing in its responsibility. But Rey also found her excitement welling up within her again. She loved nothing more than a challenge, and working with that prick of a man was going to be just that. 

Suddenly, the door opened in front of her and she almost fell inside. Luckily, she caught her balance and saved herself from looking like a fool. Except, her eyes widened as she realized she was looking at the feet of Kylo Ren, or rather, Ben Solo. She slowly looked up as he glared down at her. 

“Were you listening to our private conversation?” He practically spat at her, making her wince. 

“N-no! I just forgot my bag,” Rey stuttered a whisper, trying to look inconspicuous, but knowing she failed miserably. What else could she have been doing? It was obvious that she probably heard every word of their very personal dialogue. 

“Is there something wrong, Kylo?” 

She heard Amilyn use his disguise name from behind them, knowing that his large frame completely hid her from sight. Was he going to expose her in front of their boss? It was an easy way to get rid of her, eavesdropping would surely make her lose favor with Amilyn and would give her the wrong kind of attention. 

Ben’s mouth twitched once before twisting into an evil grin as he never broke eye contact with Rey. She felt her stomach drop and she found she couldn’t breathe. She was completely at his mercy, and from the look on his face, that was something he didn’t posses. 

“It’s nothing, Holdo,” he said over his shoulder, still watching Rey, “I seem to have forgotten my things, is all.”

In one swift movement, he shoved the bag he already carried on his shoulder towards Rey with such strength that she was forced back a few steps and out of eyesight from anyone sitting at Amilyn’s desk. He turned around and she watched him move out of sight only to return a few seconds later with her own bag clasped by one of his large hands. He shut the door softly behind him, and turned to look at her expectantly. Rey realized that other people were beginning to file into the office for their day of work. She still clutched his briefcase with both arms across her chest and stared up at him with disbelief. 

“Why did you do that?” She demanded after he refused to say anything or make a single move. More bodies were coming from the elevator and they were quickly being outnumbered by easily gossip mongering men and women. Rey wanted to be seen with Ben as little as possible, and she could only imagine the rumors they would start by standing so close together in a small doorway. 

“Because now,” Ben breathed, leaning in close and whispering in her ear, “you owe me.” 

Rey’s eyes were wide and she instinctively shoved him away from her. Her cheeks felt hot and her brain was fuzzy. How the hell did he always get the better of her? 

“What is that supposed to mean?!” She said hotly, watching his smirk turn into a frown of obvious annoyance. 

“It means that you have to do whatever I say, kid.” 

He said the word as an insult and Rey felt humiliated. She huffed in response and rolled her eyes, trying her best to look as nonchalant as possible. She didn’t want him to keep thinking that he could get under her skin so easily. 

“I don’t think that’s what Amilyn meant,” Rey challenged, “now would you please give me back my bag?” 

Ben’s dark eyes flashed angrily and Rey could tell that his importance wasn’t used to being challenged. She could see the anger threatening to break loose from his fake ‘calm composure’ and she braced herself for the explosion.

But it never came. Instead, an idea seemed to form in Ben’s mind and the cockiness returned to his eyes, although he continued to glower at her. 

“Actually, I think I’m going to keep this,” he said, tapping on the bag he now had slung over his shoulder, “think of it as a get-to-know-you exorcise. You keep mine and I’ll keep yours. Should be interesting to learn a little bit about each other, no?” 

Rey glared at him, concern quickly growing in her with every word he spoke. Did he really think that was a good idea?!

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, pretending that her heart wasn’t pounding at the idea of him sneaking through her personal belongings, “you wouldn’t even be able to get into it because you don’t know the password.”

“Oh don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll figure them out.” 

“Stop calling me that,” Rey retorted, making Ben raise an eyebrow at her ferocity. He simply shrugged his shoulders and stepped out into the hallway as people walked past them. 

“I think I’ll work from home today. We’ll meet up tomorrow once we’ve ‘gotten to know each other’ a bit more, I think.” 

Rey didn’t have any time to reply as he walked through the sea of people flooding in. He was easy to spot over the heads of everyone else, and Rey tried to rush after him, calling out that she still had no idea what he meant, but he made it to the elevator before she could and the doors slid shut in front of her face. 

And just like that he once again left her in complete and utter shock and silence.