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redassassin · 3 years ago

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no amount of freedom gets you clean

for @thepurpledragon4444 in the smgh/hive mind/masquerade gift exchange!! have some angst michstie

“Adrian, stop! We don’t know if he’s lying and we can’t risk making the wrong decision!”

The cathedral around them shook with the sounds of battle around them. Nova was pulling against Adrian’s arm, trying to keep him back as he raised the gun, pointing it at Ace. Nova forced all of her weight against his arm, pushing it down against his side, pushing Adrian back a step. The gun wouldn’t do anything against Ace, not with his powers, and they couldn’t risk losing the deal that could save them all. Or destroy them all. Nova wasn’t sure, but the wrong decision would end in the annihilation of them all.

“You’re just as power-hungry as the rest of them,” Adrian snarled. “You never wanted to help, you just want the throne. You’re blind to your Uncle’s lies and deceit. I thought you were different from them but you’re just like the rest of them.” The malice in his voice knocked something loose inside Nova. He’d never believe her, not until she could prove to him that she wasn’t on the side of the anarchists anymore. She wasn’t on Ace’s side. But she wasn’t on Adrian’s side either. She may have thought she could be someday, until now. He didn’t trust her to make the right decision, just like she didn’t trust him to make the hard decisions. “I knew I should never have trusted you. You betrayed us once, of course you’d do it again.”

“The cost of getting this wrong is too great. You know that, Adrian. I can’t take that risk. I can’t be the cause of more unnecessary violence and bloodshed.” Still pushing against Adrian, she lowered her voice. “I know you don’t trust him, and I don’t either, but I have to trust that whatever solution he might have is safest for everyone.”

“If you believe that then you’re just as brainwashed and naive as the rest of them,” He paused, eyes darkening. Adrian stepped in front of Ace Anarchy, pulling the gun out again and raising it at Nova. “You’re still holding on to what was never there. He never cared about you. He used you, Nova. I don’t want to see him hurt you again, and I won’t let him go free. If you want to leave here alive with him, you’ll have to go through me. This decision comes at a price, Nova. Because as long as I’m alive, I’m going to stop you. It’s me or him.”

Nova took a long, deep breath. “I don’t want to hurt you, Adrian. I really don’t. But I need to know what he meant by this.” Her body tensed, fists balled up behind her back, her knees slightly bent, preparing for the fight that she knew was coming.

Adrian lurched forward, heading straight for Ace. Nova launched herself at him, and although she weighed less than him, the sheer force of her body hitting him as hard as she could sent them both tumbling to the ground. He was knocked forward, his own momentum used against him as she landed on his back, her legs gripping his sides. Her gun was pressed against the back of his head in a feeble attempt of intimidation, although they both knew she couldn’t shoot him. At least, she wouldn’t be able to deliver the fatal blow. Adrian sat up quickly, his back arching as he rose from his knees to force Nova off of him. She rolled to her feet, spinning quickly to block a punch to her stomach he threw at her. They went back and forth, throwing hits and punches and kicks, leaving the guns out of the picture. They’d had enough bad experiences with those. Plus, Adrian was a terrible shot and they both knew it. Despite all the threats and taunts and glares, they weren’t aiming to kill each other. Nova was just trying to stop Adrian and Adrian was just trying to get past her. They were silent, the only noises coming from them were the grunts and hisses of emotionally charged combat. Adrian spun around, sweeping his foot out in an attempt to trip her, but Nova jumped out of the way, landing a kick to the back of his legs, his knees crumbling beneath him. She reached for his hand, ready to release her power through her fingertips, but he wrenched away from her and stumbled to his feet, his fists balled and face fuming. “Why can’t you see that he’s lying, Nova? I’d think that you’d recognize a lie of this sort when you hear it. You’ve certainly told enough of them.” Nova scoffed. “I lied to survive, just like I’m listening to him now. For survival. For my own, and for Gatlon’s survival.” She lurched forward, her fist aiming for the soft skin of his stomach and he sidestepped, clipping her on the shoulder and making her fall to the ground. She hissed and lashed out with her leg, aiming once again for his knees, but he had her cornered.

“Don’t they deserve to make the decision themselves?” He offered her a hand and she took it, out of habit. They’d helped each other up countless times in training and on the battlefield. She’d forgotten her place. Adrian twisted her around, pinning her arm behind her back. Nova cried out in pain, hissing through her teeth, “They’re not here. No one is. Someone has to make the hard decisions and I don’t trust anyone else to do it.” She writhed in his grasp, but his grip was too strong. Her feet were barely still on the ground, his height and tight grip lifting her off the ground with a slight movement.

“Would they trust you to make the decision for them? After all you’ve done? Do you really think anyone in this city would lay their life in your hands?”

His words cut deep into her heart. She was so used to being Insomnia, so used to being the decorated Renegade that killed the Detonator and saved so many people that night at the park. But that wasn’t who she was. She was Nightmare. And just as she trusted no one, no one trusted her.

“I’m the only one who can make it.” She reached out, her hand inching towards the exposed skin of his wrist. He let go of her, and she fell to the floor, grunting at the impact. She climbed back up to her feet, moving as far away from Adrian as she could, placing herself between him and Ace. She rubbed her wrists, the skin feeling raw from his iron grip.

“Just trust me, Adrian. I don’t want any more harm to come to this city or it’s people.” He walked towards her, slowly, hands outstretched. He was inching his way between Nova and Ace, and she stepped forward to stop him. Her fist lashed out towards his stomach and her other arm spun her around in the rebound to land a kick at his side, but his arm blocked and she was sent tumbling to the ground. From the ground she layed back on her back and kicked her legs up, and Adrian tumbled to the ground too. Nova bounced up, using his momentary distraction to center herself. She leaned against the wall, breathing hard, and waiting to see Adrian’s next move.

The cathedral around them was crumbling, the stone foundation weakened by the clash of so many powers, and dust and smoke coated her lungs as Nova gasped for air. Adrian had managed to land a hit to her stomach, knocking the wind out of her as well as forcing her back a step. Adrian sprang forward, towards Ace, who grinned, seemingly enjoying the battle before him, not at all concerned for his life. Adrian was 10 feet away from Ace, his arm outstretched to use the cylinder embedded in his arm. Nova coughed, struggling to her feet, gripping the exposed bricks to help herself up. Growling, she ran at Adrian, launching herself up onto his back and wrapping her legs around his neck, swinging up to straddle him. Adrian thrashed under her weight, Ace momentarily forgotten as he struggled to get her off. Nova’s hands reached down to cup his face from above, preparing to let her power flow through her. Adrian reached up to rip her hands from his face, his fingernails digging into the back of her hand.

“Nova, don’t. Please.” His voice was soft, and even a little fearful.

Nova scoffed, but before she could respond, or let the knot in her chest that was her power forming flow out from her fingertips, Ace began to laugh. That slow, mocking laugh that had haunted Nova in her childhood. “Please. Pathetic. My niece has a soft spot for you, and always has. That may work on her, but not on me.” Ace waved his hand, and a dagger flew from his belt towards Adrian. Nova ripped her hands away from his face as the dagger pressed up against Adrian’s neck, dangerously close to cutting into his skin. “What happens now?” Nova asked, her voice a little shaky. “What’s the deal?”

“The deal, my little nightmare, is that you join me at the throne. We kill him, kill all of his family, kill all the Renegades. We start over. Start the city from new, rein together, and ensure that no one can stop us. No one will threaten us or challenge us, Nova. Gatlon will be ours. And then, the world.”

Nova’s mouth fell open, the gears in her brain spinning faster than the teacup ride at Cosmopolis Park. “You said we would save people. That we could start over, as a family. This- this is not saving people. This is destruction, with an end goal to only benefit you. You want power.” She paused. “Adrian was right. I should never have listened to you. I wanted things to be like they used to, when I meant something to you. When I was more than another pawn in your game, your niece instead of your minion. But I suppose I was never family to you, not really. The moment that you realised I had powers I became nothing more to you than any of the other Anarchists. A toy. You kept me around to manipulate and train me and turn me into your little killing machine. The only reason you ever cared about me was because I was useful to you. I was young and naive and impressionable and you used me. You used the only family member that you have left like a toy in your game of hurt feelings and inferiority. You LOST. You lost, Uncle. You have to give it up. Because as long as you’re here, and as long as you’re in power, people will always try to stop you. There will always be people like the Renegades, who will risk everything to stop people like you. I thought that my time in the Renegades meant nothing, that I would always be an Anarchist, but they taught me something. They taught me that raw, callous, need to help. To help the society and the people that you left broken. As long as we’re both alive, I will never stop trying to stop you and put an end to you. You stole my life from me. I would rather have died that night as long as it meant that you were stopped. And I would die a hundred times more to stop you again and again and again.” She was still straddled across Adrian’s shoulders, glaring down at Ace. He floated up, his telekinesis lifting everything within a small radius up a couple of inches with him. Adrian was still beneath her, the dagger still against the skin of his throat. It hadn’t moved, Ace seemingly enraptured by her speech. And then he laughed. The dagger clattered to the ground. Nova was shaking, her hands gripping Adrian’s shoulder, fingers gripping the fabric of his clothes.

“Even now, you stand beside the Renegades. They hold you up, protect you, blind you with their promises of help and change. They’re just as bad as me. I don’t pretend to care. I don’t pretend to want anything other than to rule.”

“You really don’t learn, do you.” Nova climbed down from Adrian’s shoulders, and although he was silent, he gave her a look that told Nova everything that he wanted to say. The conflict behind his eyes matched her own. They knew what had to be done.

“I- we will do anything to stop you.” She took Adrian’s hand, and the warmth of his fingers grounding her. The familiarity of his hand in hers reminded her of everything they’d been through together, the pain they’d endured, everything they’d gone through, and everything that had brought them there.

But this was her fight. Not Adrian’s. Hers alone, her job to finish. She took both of his hands in hers and pulled him closer, close enough Ace wouldn’t be able to hear her whisper.

“This isn’t your fight, Adrian. Let me end it.” His grip on her hands tightened. “No. Let me help. He’s too powerful- I can’t have you getting hurt.”

“Then I’m sorry, Adrian. I can’t let you do this.” She leaned up on her tiptoes, kissing him gently, and released her power through where their lips met. Adrian crumpled, and although Nova tried to slow his fall, he still hit the ground with a thump that made Nova’s heart ache. She didn’t want to hurt him, not like this.

But it was what needed to happen. It was her fault that Ace rose to power again, her fault that Adrian was here in the first place. She had been stupid enough as to not check the skies for the Sentinel. He had snuck in behind her, begged and yelled and screamed for her to stop, to not go back there, but she had to hear what Ace had to day. The least she could do was to end it herself. It’s what she’d trained for. Not to end the Renegades, but to help the city, to rid it of evil, no matter what that evil was, and no matter the cost.

#renegades #marissa meyer fanfiction #marissa meyer #mm #my writing #mine #nova artino #nodrian #adrian everhart #ace anarchy #archenemies #supernova

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chrysalizzm · 4 years ago

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Do you have fic recs or head canons? please ramble for paragraphs im bored and looking for something to read.

oh boy do i have some fic recs for you (and everyone who sees this), my friend! this one is quite long because there are a lot of fics i like and this isn’t all of them, so if you’d like more, you can check out my bookmarks page ^^

The Run and Go by Numanum

“That’s not fair,” Bad protests. Dream raises an eyebrow at him and jerks his tied hands in emphasis, clearly saying that none of this is fair.

“Look, you keep running! Who runs if they’re not guilty?” Bad challenges, staring him down with obvious distrust from the generous distance of exactly five feet. It’s fair, as much as Dream hates to admit it; it’s not like he’s been the most honest hostage in the past, with all of his escaping and running and framing himself for his own murder, apparently.

“Only the good die young, and only the guilty run,” Technoblade chimes in, holding his own potato and sitting in the snow like it’s not cold at all.

A hot flash of irritation burns through him.

“Someone being chased?” he counters sarcastically, jerking his tied wrists up again to wave them in front of the group. Sapnap laughs so hard that he almost chokes on his potato, but it dies off when Dream gives him an icy stare.

Or: Dream is having a hard time, and the hunter just want to adopt him like a stray puppy that bites you at every opportunity.

multi-chapter, ongoing.

a manhunt with plot-style fic! exquisitely written, visceral in the emotions it evokes. it’s the kind of fic that makes me feel all shaky with anticipation, the kind that i have a physical reaction to; you can’t put it down.

pain. all-consuming pain. this one feels bad, man

and as he fell (you walked away) by Teahound

Once upon a time, there were three hunters.

They were good at what they did. If you wanted something-- or better yet, someone-- found, discovered, or destroyed, they were the people you asked. They didn’t have much to their name, besides a formidable reputation, but they were a team, and that was enough for them.

Once upon a time, there was a king in the forest.

He wore a mask, but it didn’t matter. That deep in the forest, in a hidden fortress, buried behind leaves and monsters and broken stone, no one could see his face anyway. He had been there a very long time, and he was alone.

Being a king can be a very lonely thing. So one day, the king left the fortress.

A Minecraft manhunt AU, with a fantasy twist. Dream is a cryptid, and Hunters are idiots.

multi-chapter (11), complete.

tea’s fic!! a manhunt-with-plot fic, featuring a forest spirit dream and circumstantial hunters and friendships that feel both intensely real and desperately melancholy because they can’t last.

or can they?

The Real World by Cinammonzoa and Fire_Fly464

"Ten, paces fire!"

Time stopped.

Tommy’s entire body went numb. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but his body was determined to keep him silent. His vision went dark, and he could no longer feel his headphones over his ears. The mouse in his hand. The slight breeze of his ceiling fan. For a few seconds, he couldn’t feel anything.

His senses came back to him all at once. The first thing Tommy noticed was the weight in his right hand -- a bow. His nostrils stung with the lingering scent of gunpowder. In front of him was a masked figure. Their right arm was bent, their elbow by their face. In their left hand was a bow, aiming directly at--

~~~

Aka Dream and Tommy get transported into the SMP world and have no idea what the fuck is happening

multi-chapter (23), complete

you’ve probably seen this one if you haunt the video blogging rpf/minecraft tags of ao3 often! an irl!dream and tommy replace their smp counterparts type of beat, very upbeat in dynamic and fun to keep pace with, great read.

staying alive (though the city is dead) by Alice_Not_In_Wonderland

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Schlatt smirks, his words lilting, almost song-like. His eyes seem to glow brighter. "Tell me, Dream, when did you realize that you could talk and talk and talk and no one would ever believe you?"

---

or: if dream's damned to be a villain in every story he's in, then he's going to show them exactly how much of one he can be

one-shot, complete.

the gratuitous greek mythology references are truly everything and this fic is such a good dissection of dream and schlatt’s motivations and how their goals intersect, and dream’s likening to cassandra really hits different

Green & Gold by HognoseSnake

George’s legs ached.

His lungs felt tight and too small.

His breath was loud in his ears.

His pack bounced uncomfortably on his shoulders.

George, homeless and adrift, is an outlaw of the Mad King's reign. He'd spent the last two months being hunted across the wilderness at the fringe of society by a ruthless killer in a smiling mask and bright green coat. This, he understood.

What he didn't understand is why such a ruthless killer kept letting him go.

multi-chapter (8), complete. sequel ongoing.

a breathtaking pseudo-manhunt-with-plot fic, with george and dream running from a kingdom that wants them dead for perceived transgressions. this shit hurted, and the sequel hurts even worse ;-; snake please i beg

We’re Only Young series by ImperialKatwala

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

collection of both one-shots and ongoing multi-chapter fics.

((bangs on table)) please read this series it is dream and techno friendship fics that alternate between lighthearted and heartwrenchingly comforting and imperialkatwala’s characterisation of them and their respective groups of family and friends is so frickin’ good i read this series when i’m not having a good day and it never fails to make me crack a smile

kept promises and old ruins and names carved into stone by verecundiam

"Would you... would you want to stay here?" Bad wrings his hands, looking away. "Like, like actually stay? I know it's not, ah, not exactly comfortable, or all that homey, but I don't want you two to get hurt out there on your own, and I just... I think maybe you could stay? If you want?"

"That sounds nice," Sapnap says, because it does.

(Or: How four kids managed to build a family, against all odds.)

one-shot, complete.

muffinteers found family that makes me want to go to the smp writers and beg it to be made canon. unbelievably soft yet excellent at parsing out the younger counterparts of the four and creating backgrounds that feasibly form them into the people they grow up to be.

in the age of icons by BananasofThorns

“Yeah, keep digging,” Tommy crows.

The pickaxe hesitates on the downswing. The air shifts; Dream’s aura bursts into visibility, brilliant green and jagged. Ozone hums on Techno’s tongue and Bad stutters in the middle of his sentence. Up on the wall, silhouetted by the sun, Dream stands frozen and furious.

L'manberg messes with something it shouldn't. Techno watches the repercussions and tries not to laugh.

one-shot, complete.

i love deity aus (figures, i wrote one myself akjdfh), and this one hits. there’s something exquisitely delicate about how dream and the repercussions his godhood both on himself and on the people who are exposed to him in that moment of unbridled rage.

that's how we keep going (we make the best of things) by lieyuu

[ i can’t decide if this is heaven or hell. the walls keep closing in and we’re running out of space, but you’re pretty cute ]

“So, do you want to build a flower shop, a cottage, or a coffee shop?” Puffy asks, smiling like just Niki’s presence is enough to light up her world.

Niki looks at her, thinks, I want to bend nature to my will and weave tapestries in your name, says, “I think I might like the flower shop best.”

one-shot, complete.

a niki/puffy fic that crushed me in its hands in just six hundred words. the delicate love and wonder and beauty of this fic killed me softly and i welcomed it. it’s girls in love rendered by lieyuu’s masterful hand, what more could you want

i need it to be known that as i was typing up my thoughts midnight love by girl in red started playing from my playlist if that’s not a shining endorsement i don’t know what is

did i ruin the moment? by itisjosh

Ranboo drags himself through the snow, burn wounds going up and down his body. His suit is crumpled, half of it discarded as he crawls along the ground. His eyes are firmly pressed shut, and he refuses to open them, just in case he sees him, Dream, again. Ranboo sobs as the snow melts on his skin, the water scalding him as it trickles down his arms and chest.

one-shot, complete.

it’s character death, i do need to put it out there because it felt like i was punched in the stomach at the end even though i knew. josh knows exactly how to drag his readers kicking and screaming into angst hell, as always - a ranboo is rescued by phil fic wherein ranboo ends up convincing himself that the only reason for his presence in the nearly-empty anarchist commune is because phil sees him as a placeholder for his sons ;-; pain

Frame The Halves, And Call Them Brothers by MusicallyActive

"Let's go!" Quackity roared. "Let's fucking go!"

The anvil dropped, and Techno reached for his totem of undying. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

Phil screamed something, and instantly a crushing force struck Technoblade's skull. It rattled him to the core, doused his vision in red, and then all he knew was black.

He gasped awake moments later to the sound of his communicator pinging softly at his bedside table, and when Technoblade opened his eyes, New L'manburg was nowhere in sight.

one-shot, complete.

a techno timeloop fic that shows off the unintentional cruelty of the children who run l’manberg and techno’s own inability to allow the people he tries so hard not to love to come to harm. techno’s rendered in painstaking detail; this one was cathartic in the best way.

on i go (move to move) by Aenqa

If you ask someone whether they’ve ever experienced real, severe physical pain, you’ll learn a lot from their response.

Techno knows what it means to be in pain. He’s accepted it as a necessary consequence of keeping his family safe. But when the pain he's experiencing starts to become too much to bear alone, it takes his family to show him what it might mean to feel better.

one-shot, complete.

chronic pain fic featuring sbi!! it’s really good - aenqa wrote chronic pain well, and incorporated respawn mechanics into it well, and the dynamic between sbi is impeccable.

Yellow and Blue and- by nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)

It’s another gorgeous day in New L’Manberg. Tubbo’s stilted streets of deep toned spruce and honey-touched oaks are warm under his feet from the sun, and a sign and a small banner proclaim the country’s name in front of his face. Wilbur is so happy to let the ‘L’ roll of his tongue as he says it, ‘Manberg’ was harsh and too guttural, but the two extra syllables make it something that could fit on a melody, a four-note beat he could set the pace of his unbeating heart to.

The citizens of New L’Manberg track him with cautious eyes at first, until Tubbo changes his eyes to slightly sad ones, listening along to Wilbur’s rambles, warming up to the truly soot-grey sight of his face and sunshine yellow of his ever-present sweater. The rest of the population soon follow, laughing at Wilbur’s strange innocence and telling him what he’s done with only a little bit of spite in a pitying mask and fixing their mouths in a line when he suddenly forgets what he’s doing or stares into space or laughs at nothing.

But all the people who get sad when Wilbur starts laughing after shock-still silence are dumb.

Because Wilbur’s not laughing at nothing.

one-shot, complete.

a ghostbur fic from quite early on! it includes references to wilbur and schlatt’s older videos/smp experiences and has a super interesting take on the nature of wilbur’s amnesia i enjoyed this fic a lot ^^

east of eden series by subwaywalls

Philza protects his home.

(An angel with a singing blade of fire guards the gates to paradise.)

two one-shots, one ongoing multi-chapter fic.

READ IT READ IT READ IT. the eoe series is exquisite in both content and presentation, centering around sbi and the powers they all respectively have but also bringing in people like grian and dream, and subwaywalls is a master of packaging her words ever so delicately to create an experience that is ethereal.

#long post #fic recs #chrys rambles #asks

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thetaoofzoe · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: The Hand and The Hammer

August Walker x Reader (YOU)

Word count: 5K, Explicit

Summary: August Walker has been living rent free in your head for five years. For half a decade, you had been deployed all across the world to hunt down the elusive anarchist, all because of a long standing one sided love/hate relationship between he and your unhinged employer.

Thanks to @lightsidecalling for your support

Part I

You lie beneath cool white sheets, watching the white-yellow wash of early morning sunlight tickle at the edges of billowy sheer curtains. It takes several minutes for the light to seep through the curtains, spill across the bare stone floor and then paint indulgent stripes of gold across your duvet.

Throwing off the sheets to allow the rising sun to caress and warm your naked skin, you close your eyes and bask in the heat like a contented house cat.

You have absolutely nothing to do today. Your diary is gloriously empty of responsibilities and just as you've done for the last three weeks, you fully intend to take advantage of your free time.

You stretch and yawn, feeling comfortable exactly where you are, and you consider sleeping in. However, your stomach growls and abruptly the quest for food is suddenly top priority. You grab the mobile phone that's tucked beneath the pillow and the face brightens at a touch.

You can see that it’s almost eleven am.

You perk up at the rattle of a room service cart being wheeled through the sitting room outside of your bedroom door.

Right on time, you think.

You had requested that breakfast be brought round at a certain time, and everyday, it was there without delay. The staff in the rented oceanside bungalow was always on the ball, always attentive and you appreciated that.

Rising easily, you walk lightly across the cool stone floor to the adjoining bath. Powdered and perfumed, you dress in a light, peach coloured sundress and sandals.

An ocean breeze ruffles your dress when you step out onto the sunny patio where breakfast is waiting. It is quite a spread, for just one person, with juice, coffee and tea services, seasonal fruits, cheeses, breakfast meats and a lovely stack of golden french toast that is still pert and fresh from the cooker. You walk to the shade provided by the umbrellas over the long glass table and help yourself to the food.

Nearly a half hour later, the service door behind you slides open on quiet rollers and you can hear your assistant striding across the paving stones.

'Phone call for you,' he says in that gentle familiar voice.

You replace the coffee cup on the saucer and shift, fully expecting him to slip a thin mobile phone into your hand. Instead, he lays a bulky black leather case on the table. You look down at it and swear under your breath.

It is the satellite phone. And the satellite phone means only one thing.

You pick it up and hold the earpiece it to your ear.

The messenger down the line delivers the information quickly, sparing no words and then asks if you understand. You say that you do and the call is disconnected.

So much for a day of nothing.

You finish your breakfast and return to your bedroom. Waiting for you on the freshly made bed are two white envelopes. You pick up the larger of the two. In it is a stack of your destination's local money, and airline tickets. You tuck that envelope into your handbag, dress in comfortable, but chic travel clothing and pack a small carry-on.

You then pick up the second, smaller envelope that you know contains information regarding the target. This envelope, unlike the first, is sealed with a black wax stamp. You recognise the initials of your employer and the envelope comes open with a flick of your fingernail. You slide out a black and white photo and have an immediate and unnamed visceral reaction to seeing the face. Unconsciously clenching your teeth you resist the urge to rip the cursed photo to pieces.

'Fuck...' you mutter, glaring down at the strong, unbearably handsome face peering back at you.

It was the infamous Hammer.

August Walker.

Again.

You struggle to get yourself in hand and after a long, cleansing breath, you turn the photo over and read the neatly printed message about a lonely summer in Italy addressed to a fictional, 'My darling Véronique.'

With picture still in hand, you walk to your writing desk. Opening the top drawer, you pull out a piece of white card-stock paper that has in it, several cut out ovals of different sizes. You’d received this little holey card-stock in the post three weeks earlier with no accompanying explanation, and while it was strange, you knew enough about your employer's methods to keep it.

Lining up the white card over the writing, you read the secret message revealed by the ovals.

'Target - August Walker. Find and Take Alive.'

'Ohh,' you groan, exasperated. 'Not this again.'

August Walker has been living rent free in your head for five years. For half a decade, you had been deployed all across the world to hunt down the anarchist, all because of a long standing one sided love/hate relationship between he and your unhinged employer.

You were good at your profession. Very good. And you had no trouble using your skill and your people to get close to hard targets. Yet, August Walker was not a bloody hard target and was NOT hard to find as he seemed to leave a trail of destruction and bodies that in turn led directly back to him!

So much for subtlety.

So it didn't matter much that you were able to pinpoint his location or get a visual bead on him days after the start of an assignment, as your employer invariably hit the mission abort button because 'things had changed'.

You were still paid handsomely. But being at the whim of a mad employer made you start to hate August Walker a little as well.

At least, at first.

Your hate soon turned from a hot coal sitting heavily in your gut to little butterflies that frantically scrambled about at the sight of him.

Over the course of your assignments, you'd had the opportunity to see him do nearly everything ranging from eating, to fighting, to blowing up buildings. The way he moved during a fight, his well-placed blows, his underhanded methods of winning were intoxicating to watch. The man was an absolute menace.

You'd told yourself that your physical delight was just a response to your clear admiration for his chaotic skills.

That admiration was purely professional, of course!

But the more you followed and watched him, the more those little butterflies of admiration ignited into an unquenchable fire that only your hand seeking out a little self-pleasure beneath the duvet could put out.

But honestly, you would have fallen on your proverbial sword before you admitted to yourself that you found everything about August Walker, sexy.

And then he disappeared.

No destruction, no bodies and the trail was cold.

During the rest of that assignment, you didn't see him for two month until the night he climbed through the french windows of your Parisian hotel room.

To say that you were surprised to see him was an understatement.

But there he was, standing in your bedroom, like a fever dream, with that ridiculous moustache and that infuriating smirk.

He did not give you the opportunity to react, before he was upon you.

But that didn't matter, for you wrapped yourself around him, greedy and eager and August Walker took his time showing you how much of a menace he truly was.

You neglected to tell your employer about those few glorious hours of mission deviation.

No use throwing petrol on that unstable fire, you'd decided.

You were pulled from the field shortly after that because 'things had changed' and it was no longer necessary to bring in the target.

Your last and most recent assignment ended in Beirut ten months ago. You had come so close to legitimately ensnaring him. You had been in top form and August had been cunning, but it was not enough to elude you. You'd had him dead to rights and all you had to do was give the word to tighten the noose round his neck. But before you could, that damned satellite phone call dragged you back from the brink.

And you remembered standing there, dirty, and exhausted on a crumbling rooftop watching that smug bastard escape through the streets below on a stolen motorbike.

The only thing that soothed you was a text from a blocked number, received a week after the Beruit incident, that read, 'Next time, baby.'

You had to laugh at that. It was so something August would do.

Coming back to the present and shaking yourself of your memories, you realise that you're still standing in your oceanside bedroom holding the photo of August Walker. Checking the time, you see that you're going to be late and you grab your bags.

The photo along with the cardstock go into the shredder, and you listen to the machine choke down the evidence as you leave the room.

Your flight to Heathrow is late arriving and the airport is as busy as ever, full of children escaping on their summer hols and tourists out to see the world. You walk confidently through the melee and to the taxi stand outside. You want to get to your hotel quickly and have a nap, as you need to be sharp to handle what's coming your way.

Part II

Later that evening in your hotel, you shower and scrub up thoroughly, excited about the prospects of the evening's plan. You powder and perfume your body carefully and choose a pair of glossy red high heeled court shoes to go with your black dress. You feel sharp, clear-eyed and ready for a little fun. This assignment was going to be played on your terms and was probably going to be your last.

Carrying your kit bag with all of your tools, you hum along with the lift music (The Girl from Ipanema) as you descend to the lobby where your contact waits. You follow him to a black car waiting outside and climb inside.

As you are driven through the city, your contact sits next to you not saying a word. Your only form of communication is through the tablet he puts on your lap. You look down at the digital photo on the screen.

It is an image of August in what looks like a dance club. Only he didn't look like he was there to pick up women, or to have drinks with friends. He looked big and bulky and out of place amongst the scantily clad glittery people having a fun night out. He looked like he was lurking, and waiting for something.

'That was taken one minute ago,' says the contact as the car, caught by a traffic light, slows to a stop.

'In that one.'

The contact points towards the window on your side of the car.

Your eyes follow the line of his finger to the brightly lighted neon sign spelling out the name of a club.

'Am I on the list?' you ask and a sudden giggle surprises you.

You open your mouth to apologise for the awkward comment, but you grab your kit bag and slam the door without waiting for a reply.

You walk up to the front of the club and survey the queue waiting to get in. You count up the number of bouncers but keep walking. You make a quick right, cut through the alleyway and come up to the backside of the club. There is a young woman wearing the club's uniform, standing under the emergency building light, and using her weight to keep open the rear door. She is smoking and scrolling through her mobile.

'Hullo,' you say pleasantly, as you approach, your heels clicking on the dry macadam.

She raises her bleary bloodshot eyes to peer at you. You look at her name tag and under her name is a strip of tape on which is scrawled, 'Barkeep trainee'.

She looks like she is having a rough night as if she didn't know how to handle all of the drinks that overly generous customers bought for her, as the bartender.

'You're not supposed to actually drink it when they buy it for you, you know. You're supposed to spit it into your empty beer bottle.'

Her only answer is a wet burp.

Grinning and shaking your head, you put a finger to your lips and make a soft shushing noise as you put two hundred quid into her hand. Then without asking, you enter the club.

Once inside, the whole world shakes around you, vibrating with the thunderous bass that accompanies some nameless, formless song. You lean against the wall between the men's and the ladies' toilets for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the dim lightning. The scent of urine and alcohol permeates your hiding place, but you don’t mind, as you aren’t going to be hiding there for very long. The ancient cigarette machine across the narrow corridor seemed to eye you disapprovingly.

'Yeah, I don't want to be here either,' you mutter.

Opening your kit bag, you fish out your small purse. In it are your syringes, and vials of incapacitating drugs. You are going to go in there with all guns blazing and August Walker is not going to know what hit him. You even left the satellite phone in the hotel room. You weren't going to give your employer an opportunity to back out of the deal and order you to let him escape. Again.

Squaring your shoulders, you stride into the main hall. The club is partitioned into two levels, where the floor above overlooks the main floor on all four sides. You stand by the lower bar and let your keen eyes crawl all over the neon lighted faces. The music screams unpleasantly and immediately your head starts to hurt.

It is the stress, you think.

The stress and the travelling and you haven’t had any water all day.

But instead of water, you order a whisky sour and drink it quickly. It doesn’t quell your headache, but it bolsters your mood. You continue to look around and honestly, if he hadn't moved, you would have never spotted him up on the second level.

Your heart picks up speed.

Dear God, there he is. The unbearably sexy August Walker.

Ducking away from the bar, you go round to where the stairs dog-leg to the next level. Once up there, you weave your way through the thick standing crowd. Then you just stop moving and the crowd buffets you for a moment. You realise that in your zeal to just get your hands on August, you have no other plan.

Sure, you were going to jab him with the hypodermic, but what were you going to do if his knees just gave out beneath him. You would have to make a scene to get your contacts in there to drag the big man away. You were not going to be able to haul him down to the car on your own. And the last thing you wanted to do was to draw attention to yourself.

You growl with frustration and push your way to the more intimate bar at the back of the area. It is just a little quieter there and you take the needed space and time to regroup. You order another whisky sour and face the bar to drink it and think.

Have I been hasty?

Am I unprepared for this?

Has my judgement been clouded by my hubris?

A tall man comes close to you at the bar, but you ignore him. He is probably just ordering something and will move off soon. But when he doesn’t order, or move away, you turn to look up at him, ready to give him the business.

August Walker towers over you, smirking and looking like the cat that ate the canary.

In your mind, you know that you should feel angry, or disappointed, or even afraid, but you can't bring yourself to feel anything but relief.

He grabs you up by the arm and all but pulls you through the crowd and to one of the private rooms in the back. The room he picks is dim and backlit with baby pink and purple lights and the furniture looked soft and fun. The room is also clearly occupied by several people who looked to be having a private coke party in the corner. However they do not object to your sudden presence.

August crowds you up against the soft bubbly wall, one hand against it above your head and the other hovering at your waist.

'I'm going to search you,' he says, his eyes boring into yours.

A surge of heat rushes up inside you, but whether it was from anguish or arousal, you aren’t sure. Two whiskey sours on a stomach that only had jelly babies is making everything start to blur together.

'No you will not!' you manage to growl indignantly.

He raises a dark brow. His smirk lengthens into something more mischievous and his blue eyes warm considerably and you know he's not a threat.

'Then show me that you are not armed.'

'You can go fuck yourself.'

August grunts with amusement and you bite your lip.

This is not the time to bring up sex.

You can see the wheels turning in his head and he heaves himself backwards. With the movement, you catch his scent and you are immediately rocketed back to the night he positively wrecked you. You remembered feeling deliciously tender for the rest of that week.

The demon inside you lurches in its metaphorical cage.

Want him, want him, want...

He holds open his plain black suit jacket with both hands in an obvious effort to show that he is wearing his weapon in a hip holster. Unfortunately, all you can see is how his tie nestles quite contentedly between his big, meaty pecs.

The demon in the back of your mind reminds you that he's got soft hair on his chest and belly and you fight the desire to touch him.

August clears his throat and catches your attention.

Yes, you think. Yes, focus. His face is right there, focus. Not on the memory of that beautiful chest.

He quirks his brows to indicate that you need to show that you aren't packing. But you are only wearing a thin dress with a light half jacket and couldn't possibly be hiding anything. Instead, you cock your head and mock him, opening your little half jacket to show him you weren't armed. At least not in that spot.

August seems to accept it, because he is obviously more interested in the reason why you are there.

'It's time to end this.'

'End what?' you ask feigning innocence.

He takes your handbag, and opens it before you can protest. Seeing the contents, he flattens his lips into a tight line and then tosses the bag onto the floor. You watch it roll over once and come to rest in the corner.

'Stop. Following. Me,' he growls and leans in closer obviously using his powerfully built frame to intimidate you.

'I-- I can't. I have a job to do.'

You keep your face turned away, eyes still on the handbag in the corner.

It’s the only way that you can remain sane with him this close.

Against your back you can feel the thump of muted music, you can smell his cologne and hear the faraway voices of the other occupants. You are starting to drift a little more, buoyed by the particular pleasure you’re receiving from his attempt to cow you.

August is good at reading people and when his big hand come to rest at your waist, you know he’s read you like an open book. He slides that hand to the small of your back and the other hand reaches down to touch you where your dress hem meets your lower thigh.

He arches you against him and you let out a soft eager gasp.

'Well... well...'

His voice is low, breath warm against your temple and he sounds excruciatingly self satisfied.

'What am I gonna have to do to get you off my back?'

Mmm there is that tone again. That tone that tells you that he is a man who does not mince his words. He is a man who is unafraid to show his intentions with his actions. Your heart wrenches in your chest. You feel sexy and mysterious in his presence. You are the woman he can’t get enough of. You are in control, not him, and deep down, August knows it.

You roll your head away from where you were looking at the purse. You look up into his eyes and slide your arms about his neck.

August needs no other prompting. His big hands tighten round your waist and he heaves you up off of your feet. One of your court shoes slips off of one foot and when you land on your knees astride his lap on the soft, pink couch, you grab the heel of the other and fling it over to its mate.

August Walker is an incredible specimen of male human form. His smirking face and ridiculous moustache arouses feelings of frustration and anger in you even as his thumbs inch up the hem of your dress. The foolishness of your flighty employer, August's elusiveness (for the most part) and the whole incomprehensibility of your futile, prematurely aborted missions, all suddenly come to a head.

You sit back on his lap and scowl, giving his meaty chest a thump with the base of your loosely curled fist. That stops him and surprise is evident in his blue eyes. You narrow your eyes in return and baring your teeth slightly, you tighten your fist and hit him again. Harder.

Then again, even harder.

You pull him up by his neatly knotted tie and slap his face. The sound of skin on skin is loud in the quiet room.

Oh, that felt good.

A second stretches into an eternity between you and you watch a mixture of hurt, and something else that decidedly wasn't anger ghost across his face. It was arousal. Slapping him across the face obviously turned him on.

You huff a laugh and he grins, the challenge is clear.

'Looks like you wanna play,' he rumbles darkly.

August reaches both hands beneath your dress and grabbing your knickers, he drags them down your trembling thighs.

‘Up,’ he instructs you and when you rise to your knees he slaps your ass and grabs an indulgent handful. 'Good girl.'

You yelp and moan with delight, steadying yourself with both hands against him. With his help, you manage to only get one leg free, but you don't care. August has enough access and you watch him lick two fingers which he slides into your wet heat.

You gasp and shudder, lewdly pushing your hips towards him rocking in time with the motion of his fingers dragging across your sensitive slit.

Fuck... fuck! This shouldn't be happening, you think, trying to keep your thoughts from running together. Not here, not now this is crazy!

'C'mon,' August encourages you, warm hand stroking your bum. 'Take my cock out. I wanna fill that sweet little pussy up.'

You drop into his lap again to do as you were told. His cock is thick and hot in your hand and he groans when you give him an experimental squeeze. August cups your hips and lifts you again. There's no longer any perceivable space between the two of you and when you let him push you down on his ready cock, there is no longer any singular breath. It's just one breath, your shared breath.

You wrap your arms about his shoulders and bury your face into his neck. You need his steadiness to keep from exploding into tiny pieces.

'You drive me crazy,' you gasp, breathless from the rush of heat drowning you.

August holds you and you match the motion of his body. It isn't long until he has built a relentless rhythm and you are begging him for release. You can feel yourself taking out all of your pent up frustrations on him. The heat and strength of him inside you is enough to drive away all of your fears and worries, replacing them with pleasure.

You lift your head and kiss him. His mouth is soft and yielding and you are confused by this new tide of tender emotions that rush in on the aftermath of your orgasm.

You melt against him, hiding your face in his neck to recover from the high and just like during his unexpected visit to your hotel all those months ago, August caresses you until you're able to recover.

You hum softly and open your eyes to sheepishly peek at the other people still in the pink and purple room. They're far away enough, but you can see that they are way too coked out to care about what you two deviants are doing.

'They know you're here,' you murmur after a moment, stroking his stubble rough cheeks and smoothing his rumpled curls.

'Hmm.'

'They got you on film.'

'I'll take care of it,' he whispers back, matching your intimate tone.

You nod and with a groan, you heave yourself off of him and stagger back to your feet. He grabs you to help you regain your balance and you're grateful for his quick reflexes. You didn't want to end the night falling and cracking your head open on a coffee table. There's a stack of napkins by the wine bottles on one of the tables. You grab a handful and hand some to him. You both avoid each other's eyes as you clean up and you grab your purse and shoes.

Contemplating the contents of your purse you say to him, 'Are you gonna let me jab you with this?'

August grins quite suddenly and you are charmed by his disarming smile.

'No,' he says with laughter in his voice.

'Tsk... ok.'

You feign disappointment even though you know that you were going to go through with it anyway.

Back in order, August pushes himself off of the couch. He takes you by the wrist and pulls you close. He holds your gaze, making sure that you cannot mistake his meaning.

'Come with me.'

You stare at him. Oh, it's so tempting that it hurts when you turn him down.

'You know my methods... why I do the things I do. You know, and I know you understand me.'

‘I understand. I understand. But I can’t.’

August flattens his lips into a grim line again, but he nods and releases you.

‘Don't forget to take care of that… thing,’ you tell him in parting.

You want to stay so badly. You want to run away with him and you nearly turn around when you reach the room door. But you force yourself to keep moving forward and out of his life.

There is a message waiting for you when you return to the hotel.

Mission aborted.

Reason - ‘things have changed’.

Part III

You lie in your oceanside bedroom listening to the room service cart rattling through the adjoining room. It's time to get up for breakfast. You get out of bed, stretch, yawn and disappear into the bath to wash up and prepare for another delightfully leisurely day.

The stone floor is warm against your bare feet and you walk towards the patio and out through the sliding doors. The mid-morning sunlight is blinding and you put a hand up to shield your eyes. The beach is empty today with only a few boats dotting the clear blue waves. Maybe a swim later is in order, you think as you turn towards the umbrella shaded breakfast table.

A strange sight makes you stop in your tracks. There is a dark haired man sitting at the table, with his eyes closed, and his face tilted up to catch the sun not blocked by the edge of the umbrella.

'August,' you whisper softly to yourself as if saying his name any louder would make the mirage fade away.

You walk closer and clasping your hands together, you hover at the far end of the table.

'August.'

Alerted to your presence, he lowers his head and opens his eyes to look at you. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

'What are you doing here, August? You shouldn't be here... it... it isn't safe.'

'I came for you,' he says as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say.

'No. No, you're leaving now. Right now.'

He looks at you for a moment and with his foot, August slides out the chair next to him and gestures a lazy hand to it.

'Breakfast first.'

Sure, you think, rolling your eyes. Breakfast first. You sit down beside him.

August pours coffee for you. You watch him quietly and without really meaning to, you reach out to put your hand against his cheek. August stills at your touch and when he leans down to kiss you, you curl your fingers into his sun-warmed hair.

'Come with me,' he murmurs against your lips. 'I want you to be with me.'

'You know I can't.'

And even as the words come out of your mouth, you don't believe them.

August scoffs and is about to try another tactic, but is interrupted by the softly opening service door.

You watch your assistant approach with the heavy satellite phone. He gives August an impassive look and hands the phone to you. Your assistant also places two white envelopes on the table by your empty plate. August watches you put the phone up to your ear.

The messenger down the line is different this time, but delivers the information in the same monotone voice before asking if you understand.

'I understand,' you say. 'But... but, I will open the envelope before I agree to the job.'

A beat passes.

'Go on,' says the messenger.

You open the smaller of the two envelopes, the one with the black wax seal and pull out a photo of the target. You suck your lower lip between your teeth and turn the photo around to show August his own face.

'The target is August Walker,' you say.

'Have you seen him?'

You look directly into August's face. He looks apprehensive, you think. Does he think you'll turn him in? After all this?

'No, I haven't seen him. But I won't--'

/Take the job/, August mouths to you.

'I mean I will take the job.'

You disconnect the call.

'Why did you want me to take the job?' you ask a sense of giddiness beginning to simmer in your gut.

'Because you'll never catch me.'

You tap the phone and grin.

'I can give you up right now.'

August glances at the phone.

'Will you?'

You smirk.

'Mmm, breakfast first.'

0-0 END 0-0

Thanks for reading and please like and reblog 💖 💖

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neverendingstories00 · 4 years ago

Text

Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.9/FINALE)

Pairing: Safin x F!Reader

Summary: You attempt to adjust back to your mundane lifestyle, but Safin still haunts you. Safin makes sure to let the world know that you are his and only his.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: N/A

A/N: GUYS!! It's the final chappie...😖 Dw, there's an epilogue that is going to come very shortly. I know this has been short, but it's been a really fun ride. I promise to write more fics in the future. I might take a small break since school and that I've been writing non-stop for the past week and posting the chappies at like 3am. Anwyays, I stayed up until 2am to finish this for you guys. Your support and comments literally make my day so thank you once again! Hope you guys enjoy this ❣️❣️

MASTERLIST

Three months on that dreaded island, and the world hadn’t changed. M16 was still running, the protests still occurred, and you (surprisingly) were still alive. You returned to your old apartment and saw the desk where you had meet Safin, imaging the knife that was uncomfortable close to your neck. The way he had sniffed your hair and his nickname, clever girl, rolled off of his tongue. In your apartment, you always thought Safin was going to be waiting for you at every corner.

All of your family and friends were overjoyed seeing your alive. Your poor mother and sister sobbed as they held you close and gave a thousand thanks to M16. In those months you were gone, everybody was sure that you had died or were killed in a horrible manner. Your mother didn’t even want to know what you had gone through. Her arms were wrapped tightly around your body as her tears stained your shoulder,

“Just stay with me. Please.” Her broken voiced cracked. “I can’t lose you again, y/n.”

That had marked the first time you ever cried in front of your coworkers. You knew it was unprofessional, but after months of captivity, you were even more damaged then you were before. Being inside of your own body and clothes made you painfully uncomfortable. You constantly took showers and changed your clothes because everything reminded you of Safin. No longer could you wear in a braid since you lay on Safin’s chest and he’d unravel the braid, running his fingers as you two walked. All of the dresses in your closet you threw out, just looking at them made you think of the night after that dinner where Safin requested a kiss.

Even if it wasn’t there, he haunted you every second.

Safin had been locked away in M16’s underground emergency headquarters. Nomi reported that he was under constant surveillance. He was polite to most of the guards, requesting a copy of a Brave New World. It was absolutely bizarre, but they gave it to him. They tried to force information of out him, but he wouldn’t budge. No reason why he kidnapped you, wanted control over post-soviet countries, or any of the sadistic actions he had done. Upon seeing Bond, M, or any agent, he would ridicule and tear them down. It turned out the woman he had previously loved was Madeleine. He had attempted to create a clone with his and Madeliene’s blood but failed. Nobody had a single idea of what he was capable of. Not even you knew what Safin held. But all M16 knew was that he was a classified global threat that was taken down by his own prisoner. His downfall had begun after his capture. The protests had been contained by goverments and other international spy agencies. M had promised that he would never ever step within a mile of your location.

It all seemed too normal to be true.

The month following your return, you decided to get back into the line of action two weeks after your arrival. Your mother had voted against it, but you needed it more than anything. Anything to get Safin out your mind. Your first day in office was full of questions from all of your co-workers.

“What did he do to you?”

“What was Safin’s lair like?”

‘What was under the mask?”

You could never respond with the truth. The nights were he had fucked you with his tongue down your throat; your neck decorated in red marks. How he had married the two of you and took you on expensive shopping trips. The only people who knew of the truth were Nomi, Bond, and M. That was all. It all seemed like a drug trip gone wrong. After your first week back, the questions had gone down. Moneypenny would come to your desk with a report, a smile on her clear skin. “Welcome back, C”. It made you smile, taking the report and typing away. Being back to your mundane life was going to get taking use to it. No longer would you have nights of true pleasure in your life ever again. But it was for the better. You were utterly damaged beyond belief, but hid in deep in your body. Your broken, crippled soul.

Q had been one of your closest acquaintances in M16. Upon first meeting him, a rivalry was sparked between you two. Q had been deemed the smartest person in M16. With you, a stubborn and young recruit, he shook in his shoes. You thought he hated you at first, but he stated that he considered you a “boon companion”. The man spoke with such large words. You told him to simply call you a “friend”, and that is where your friendship that slowly began to grow.

You knew you weren’t suppose to tell him, but you did. Every single bit of it. He would come over to your apartment every night with Chinese Food, listening with his Miso Soup as you explained your experience on the island. Q wasn’t one for gossip and you trusted him with all of the information you had told him. Not only was he a colleague, but a confidant.

The ring was minimanlistic gold band with thin, dainty diamonds. It was easy to miss. Q looked at your hand, examining the ring.

“You’re married to him?”

You nodded in response. “I am. He had a whole ceremony, and a priest held at gunpoint. I’ve taken the ring off…”

“Regardless, your still...married to him.” Q had seen some bizarre events over the years, but this was truly baffling. One of his friends was forcefully married to the world’s most feared anarchist.

“Do you think I wanted to be? I can’t forget about him. He’s still there..”

“In solitary confinement. He’s being guarded twenty-four seven. Safin isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.” Q attempted to console. He was horrible with emotions. “I checked every database I could and tried to find any ties connected to him, but nothing came up. If they do, I’ll make sure to alert you of them.”

Holding the ring in your fingers, you spun it around. A sigh escaped your mouth. “Q, I...can’t. He..we..”

“He took advantage of you. All of the threats he had made were meant to scare you. I know you tried to fight back. Everything you had gone through...I apologize.” Q said, a hint of guilt in his voice. “Day and night, I tracked for your location. We thought Spectre had taken you. Safin had made sure there was no trace of you. Months prior, he had been planning this. He was obsessed with you. Only If I had kn-”

“I’m here now. I’m not leaving.” You confirmed, trying to sound confident. Safin couldn’t hurt you anymore. He was locked away, never to be shown to the world again. “Thanks to your and your little trick, I got out.”

“A prisoner bringing down her captor. That is quite impressive, C.”

“And I’ll do it again.” You promised. Q nodded in response, a sly smile on your face. He grabbed his Sake and the two of your cheered, drinking your sorrows away. Q wasn’t one for words. Whenever he grabbed his Sake, it was a silent reminder that your secrets were safe with him. Always.

-----

It all started with your period. Even before meeting Safin, your period was becoming spottier and came at late dates. You shrugged it out and thought nothing of it. But after your arrival home, not only did your mental health decline but so did your pyshical wellbeing. It all started with your frequent mood swings at work and home, causing sleepless nights. Your doctor prescribed you with bipolar medication, but it never worked. All it did was make you more paranoid and sensitive.

Your period came late. It was spotty and faint, and had disappeared two days later. Your heart beat was increasing, you breasts became larger as they ached, and you felt nauseous without getting sick. Those had been the major symptoms.

It wasn’t until you had fainted infront during a presentation that Q had decided it was best for you to go to a doctor. He had noticed the bags under your eyes, fatigue, and slight change in weight.

Inside of the doctor’s office, you looked down, rapidly tapping your foot. What the hell was happening to you? Were you truly going insane. Everything hurt so much.

Q placed his hand on your thigh, making the shaking stop. Looking over at him, your face was full of worry.

“He’ll put you on stronger medication, C. Your going to be fine.”

As you wanted to respond, the doctor opened the door and shut it behind him, looking at the papers as he tilted his glasses down.

Sitting up, you look at him, eager for an answear. Your expectations were low for anything major. “What is the issue, docter?”

Sorting out his papers, he answered, “From your test, it appears that your...pregnant.”

The shaking stopped. Your breathing become lower as everything became blurry and muffled. Everything was numb. This was the last thing that you needed. It had to be a false test. There was no way you could be holding his child. It wasn’t possible.

“No...No…” You managed to mutter. Q looked over at you, pity in his eyes. “Please, I can’t do this,”

The doctor looked down at you, understanding your distress. He knew about who the father could potentially be.

“I’m sorry, I am..” He gulped as he shook his head. It didn’t seem like what he was going to tell you was good news.

“Your five months pregnant, y/n. It’s too late for an abortion.”

Everything dropped around you. Looking at your stomach, you felt disguetd with yourself. Inside your stomach, you were carrying his child. Safin’s offspring. Inside of your stomach was a growing monster.

The doctor interrupted, trying to make the best out of a positive situation. He said that you could give the child up to adoption and that he knew plenty of parents that wanted a child. All you did was want to leave the godawful place. A few short minutes later you had left with Q. Q barely spoke a word, seeing the disallief on your face.

Getting into Q’s Landrover, you close the door, looking straight foward.

“Q?” You muttered, turning to him.

He looked back at you, awaiting for your response.”Yes?”

“Is the office still open?”

Q furrowed an eyebrow, perplexed. “Why do you want to go at such a late hour?”

You looked at your stomach before looking back at Q.

“I have unfinished business I need to attend to.”

-----

Q had begged for you to reconsider, but you ignored him. You were furious, hurt, and upset. Not only at yourself, but Safin. He would always whisper in your ear that you were “past the point of no return”. After months of speculation, you finally knew why. Even if he was imprisoned, Safin had to mark you to let the world know that you were his and only his. It was all some sick and twisted plan.

Walking down into the emergency room, you entered the room and saw him, locked away in a glass cell. Safin looked the same, except he wore an nude jumpsuit. It had been two months since you had last saw him. His last, cold whisper with heartbroken eyes as he was dragged away. A subtle smile appeared on his face as he put his book down.

“My dear y/n, you’ve finally come to visit.” He greeted. “I was beginning to miss you.”

“YOU FUCKING ARSEHOLE!” You screeched like a banshee. Attempting to bang on the glass cell doors, the guards help you back. “HOW DARE YOU!”

Safin raised one of his eyebrows, confused. He scalded y/n’s body, seeing the tired face and somewhat noticeable bump. She still looked like her beautiful self. But there was something rather off about her appearance. When on his island, y/n looked happier. Like she had been sleeping more, letting down his guard. But when she returned home, all of the happiness had evaporated from her body. Safin could’t hate the woman that betrayed him. After all, y/n was his wife.

“What you mean?” He queried. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Did’t you say you needed me?”

“Do you want this?” Safin panted, looking down at you. Seeing him on top of him, he’s truly a stunning man. His velvety voice was making you wet. Instead of sounding pissed off, he sounded calm and even caring.

“Shut up, please.” Your hand traveled to his cheek, gently patting it. “I-”

Two of his fingers enter your clitoris, causing you to bite your lip. It was a painful reaction at first, but then became pleasurable. You could no longer hide your pleasure and let out a small moan. “N-need it.”

“I never asked to be pregnant! Especially with this!”

Safin simply shook his head, perplexed to why you had been acting so angry about your pregnancy. You were going to become his wife, it was bound to happen. “I thought you would have learned sooner. I don’t see why you are so distressed, my love.”

“Don’t fucking my love me, Safin.” You snapped back as tears began to prick at your eyes. “You used all these threats against my work and family for me to obey your little commands. Face it, you took advantage of me.”

“Took advantage of? What are you speaking of, y/n?” Safin stood up from sitting and walked close to the glass to get a better look at you. “When I first saw you, I knew you were going to mine. My wife, my companion, my light, forever. That child inside of you is our creation. Can you imagine what he or she will do?”

“Your carrying one of the elites. I know this transformation is painful, but they will be beautiful and smart like there mother. They will carry on for me and you, build a new world. Just like we will do.” Safin calmly stated in his silkly accented voice. He seemed so confident and calm in his wording as if the situation had been totally normal. “If you try to give him up, I swear on my life that I will find the child and you again. SPECTRE will want that child more than anything else.”

“This child or SPECTRE will never know of your existence.” You maintained, trying not to go emotional. Safin could never his child for thousnads of reasons. The last thing you wanted was to have another Safin running around the world. “It will grow up fatherless. It cannot be exposed to such a monstrous man.”

The calm composure of Safin quickly changed. His expression became more scrunched as his hands clenched into fists. “He is my child too, y/n. We bleed the same blood. I demand to see him. It is only fair.”

Stepping back, you shaked your head. As long as you were alive, that child was going to be far away from Safin. “It’s only fair to the child that they grow up normal.”

“Normal?” Safin quietly muttered, before booming. “HE IS OUR CHILD, WOMAN? HAVE YOU NOT SEEN ME? HAVE YOU NOT SEEN MY WORK? THAT CHILD IS NOT A FOLLOWER, HE IS A LEADER! WHAT DO YOU NOT SEE?”

You jumped back, startled by this yelling. The guards had turned to him, pointing there guns. The last thing they needed was a riled Safin.

“I see everything. You are going to be locked in here, forever. Charged for your crimes agaisnt humanity, and Myself?” You explained as you looked at your stomach before meeting the eyes of your husband. “Will raise the child as my own. Be a mother and raise them to be the opposite of there father. We may be married, but I am not connected to you. I’m breaking all ties with you. You hurt me, manipulated me, used me. That’s not what love is. I have never, and will never love you, Safin. Goodbye.”

Safin looked heartbroken and betrayed, unable to respond to such a thing. For the first time in forever, he looked defeated. The anarchist was so happy to have you as his wife and an offspring to call his own, but his dreams had been crushed. His own wife didn’t love him and his child would never know who he is. Safin would never see the only person he truly loved ever again.

Spinning on your heel, you walked out of the room with Q behind you. Tears fell from your eyes as you stopped at and looked at the empty office with a hand on your face. Safin’s child was growing inside of you. You were far past the point of return now as you carried one of the most dangerous men in the world’s child. But it wasn’t just Safin’s child, it was your as well. You were going to be this child’s mother now, whether you liked it or not. If SPECTRE or anybody had found them, they would be killed on spot. You refused to let an innocent child go through such pain. Just because it had Safin’s blood didn’t mean it was a monster. Evil was not born, but made. It was your duty as a former solider and new mother to serve your country and family.

Your child may bleed Safin’s blood, but it will never become anything similar to his father under your eyes.

-----

THREE YEARS LATER

Louis was the best thing that had happened to you. When you first saw him, held him, you knew you loved him. The child would always cry and fuss in everybody else’s arms but yours. After your difficult birth, the nurses tried to comfort Louis but he simply wouldn’t stop crying. When the nurses had given him to you he had stopped crying and slept in your arms. Holding Louis, all of the pain and anxiety in the world had gone away. He was the light in your darkness.

Everybody who had met the child loved him. Your closest acquaintances at M16 such as Moneypenny and Q knew about Louis. Moneypenny always offered to babysit while Q would bring his cats to be Louis’s first friends. Bond and Nomi had given him the nickname “big man” and Madeleine, to your surprise, thought Louis was a sweetheart.

You’re first week as a mother wasn’t the most ideal. It was full of crying, confusion, and uncomfort. Whenever you looked at Louis, he reminded you of Safin. Everything about him made Safin upon your eyes. But you kept telling yourself that they were two separate people. Safin was locked away, never to see your child or you ever again. You were safe.

Three years had gone by fast. You were no longer a girl, but a woman. You still continued your job at M16 as usual; encrypting, decrytping, helping the double oh agents with there missions. Nothing had changed, except you were a mother.

Your work shifts had gotten shorter due to your commitment. Instead of working to four am, you were strictly prohibited (Moneypenny’s words) to only work to Nine. It didn’t seem ideal at first. But as the days had gone on, your highlight would come home to Louis, running to your legs and hugging them. It brought a true smile to your face. It was the first one you had felt that was genuine in years.

Unlocking the door and opening it, Louis had ran up to your legs, jumping up and down that you were home.

“Mama! Home!” He smiled. You picked him up as he kissed your face, and you responded back with kisses as well. Louis had a minor speech delay and could only piece together certain words. Everybody had found it adorable.

[Y/s/n] came up to you, crossing her arms. “Let mama walk in the door and breathe for five seconds, Lou.”

“It’s fine, [y/s/n]. He’s just excited.” You reassured. Placing Louis down, you rub his head as he runs back to building his lego. Needing a drink, [y/s/n] leads you to the kitchen to make you one drink to ease your nerves.”

“How was work?” She asked, grabbing the glasses as she worked her magic.

You shrugged in response, “Same old shit. Glad to be home though, I got two days off.”

“Really? I thought you never got work off.”

“Thought so too. My supervisor gave me the weekend off. He wanted me to relax.” You explained. [Y/s/n] handed you a drink and you too toasted before gulping them down.

“You can get a break from him, if you want.” You offered. It was your only time to spend with Louis alone. Your sister smiled at the idea.

She had a growing family and life of her own as well. “Really?”

“Yeah, I need some time with him. I just want him to know what I love him..”

“Y/n..” Your sister patted your shoulder. “He knows that. Remember when he was a baby and James tried to hold him, but he got kicked in the face? When’s he around you, he’s calm. He loves you more than anything in the world.”

“Your not even a mother, yet you’re so motherly.” You smirked.

She chuckled back in response. “He’s one of the [y/l/n]’s. It’s my duty to be his aunt.”

Louis ran into the kitchen, bored with his project. All he wanted to do was be with his mama. Running up your legs, Louis grabbed the pant and tugged on them. “Mama?”

“Yes, Lou?” You looked down, moving his unruly dark curls out of his beautiful bronze face. He had Safin’s beautiful bluish-green eyes that always shined. Although nothing like his father, Louis was the copy and paste of Safin.

“Storytime..please?” Louis begged with his puppy eyes.

“Of course..” You smiled. Louis ran off to his bedroom to wait patiently for his story.

Your sister looked and smiled at you. “He’s amazing..”

“I know. Everybody knows..”

-----

Louis hadn’t even gotten through the first few pages without falling asleep on your shoulder. As you read through Beauty And The Beast, his little snores stopped your sighing. Looking down at him, Louis was truly a beautiful little boy. He had dark curly brown hair, bronzed olive skin, big bluish-green eyes, and chubby cheeks. You had gotten used to the fact that Louis was identical to Safin. He shared his blood, but Louis and Safin were two different people. Safin was a broken and misunderstood Anarchist while Louis was a sweet, little boy.

As hard as it was to believe, Safin was once a young childhood who didn’t know anybody better. His innocence had been stripped away from him at a young age, scarring him permanently with internal and external wounds.

You should hate him for he had done to you. What he had done to the world and the pain. But yet, a small part of you missed him.

You missed the way Safin gave you what no other man could give you. How he treated you not only with true obsessive love but spoiled you with endless gifts and kisses. How his fingers would play with your hair, his sweet nicknames, how he promised to kill and die for you. Safin worshipped you like a god. When he had kidnapped you, at first you hated him more than anything in the world. But as time had gone on and he became more vulnerable, you began to fall for him. You were a scared beauty who fell for the broken beast.

What if M16 had never come for you? Safin would have been your husband, whether you liked it not. Louis would have to grow up with Safin’s influences, trapped in a Submarine Pen. You didn’t want to imagine what Safin wanted with your child. What he would use it for in his sick game of Anarchy and Discord. Just the thought of Safin made you happy, sad, and confused. You pulled Louis close and stroked his curls, wanting to protect him. Maybe you should have slept with him to make sure he was safe.

Safin was locked away. He wouldn’t hurt you again.

Why did you miss someone you hated so much?

After taking off your prosthetic and rolling into your bed, you throw the covers over your cold body. Your whole life you had always felt alone. Connections were hard for you to make, no matter how hard you tried. In your thirty two years of life, you had always felt disconnected from the world. Something had to be wrong with you. The bed was big enough for two people, but there was only one person. As you make yourself comfortable, you notice a burning candle on the nightstand. It makes you think back to that night in Greece, with Safin’s hands travelling over your body as he passioantly made love to you. Safin wasn’t a man you had met everyday. He was an Anarchist who happened to be obsessed with you and your legal husband. The ring was still on your finger to this day. Looking at it made you subtly smile to yourself. Why were you so happy about him? Safin was unpredictable. One minute you symathized for him, wanted him, or hated him.

But then you realized it.

Safin’s love for you was unhealthy. He had stalked your whole life and pre planned your kidnapping to be his bride. You had thought you were going to be used a bargaining trip, but it was the total opposite. The more you learned (and obsered) Safin, you realized that he was human as well. He was a lonely evil man who yearned for love. The love he had experience was eithier negative or nothing. Upon seeing you, Safin wanted you, but didn’t know how to win you over. He made you a garden, gave you expensive items, a bedroom instead of a cell, yet you refused to love him. It wasn’t until Greece where you began to slighlty sympathieze with him. It would never justify his actions. When you had fucked, all you needed was a distraction. Both of you had been touchstarved. When that occurred, Safin had assumed you were in love. He did whatever he took for you to love him, even if it meant killing for freinds and family or forcing you into a loveless marriage.

It was for the better that Safin was locked away in a glass cell for the rest of his days. You and Louis could try to live a somewhat normal life. You would never experience a true connection again. But it was okay with you. If you could most of your life being confused and yearning, then you could do it for as long as you lived. Louis was the only reason you were going on with life. His smile and how his eyes twinkled in the light made you cry; he was truly a star.

You would never admit it to anyone, not even your cloest friends or family, but a small part of you did truly love Safin. You wanted to help him, but he was far past the point of the return. It was better if he was out of your life.

Looking into the burning candle, your eyes begin to flutter shut. You suddenly feel warm again, like your being held and watched over. It always felt like you were never alone. Safin was a lingering phantom that intrigued and haunted you. He was always watching you.

And yet, a small part of you truly loved Safin.

#rami malek x reader #safin x reader #safin #rami malek #james bond #no time to die #my writing

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signorin-anarchia · 4 years ago

Note

We obviously need to hear everything about Historia de una anarquía, it sounds stellar already!!!

Thank you so much! I was quite sure you'd ask for this, it sounds like your style (I read your works and one day I swear I'm gonna review each of them. Loved the originality).

Ok, so...

This is pretty much peculiar, and it's probably the first attempt of Berlermo I wrote.

It was born from an original idea I had for a novel, actually. The characters I created had so much Andrés/Martín vibes (I wonder why), and when the plot moved in another direction - I'm a dramaturg, among other things, and I ended up making a play out of it - I found myself with 8k words of philosophical reflection on the concept of liberty. I strongly believe that LCDP is, in a certain way, an anarchist tale with a political meaning much more stronger than it seems - or than the writers wants to show. Historia de una anarquía is basically La Casa de Papel if it was an explicitly political tale, so there's Sergio, there is Raquel, there is dystopian world, there are robberies, but most of all, there's Berlermo pining slowburn dipped in angst.

I'll drop a little snippet right there, it's not my favourite one, not even close, but I'm still translating it from my native language to english, so not much of a choice LOL

And Martín walks, between a sea of nothing, between the living and the dead, between the dust and the noise the liberty feeds on.

And Martín sees them, screaming like soldiers, maybe not even different, but there's no need to tell them if you want to go home alive.

And Martín is still alive, between the tear gas flying like birds he hasn't seen in years, and thinks that's the sweetest wind he'll be worthy to breathe.

But the truth is that Martín has never been in a bed as comfortable as an abandoned house's freezing floor.

He lies there, eyes wide open at the ceiling, watching over Andrés' calm breath for hours, close enough to almost pretend to be the same body.

The same man.

"What do you miss more?" he asks one day, when they can't get warm even with the pure alcohol supplies they carry with them and they're increasingly drawing from lately.

"Art" Andrés whispers, staring at the damp and empty walls, the wallpaper peeled off like dead skin.

"What about you?".

Why he asks, he's a mistery. It's not like he could ever care.

He doesn't even know why he's offering the truth in return.

"Music".

I'm quite sure my english syntax is all wrong.

Fun fact: that scene in Gold&the Banker where Martín smashes the head of a cop with a tin can was originally featured in this story.

Hope you enjoyed it, thank you again for asking!

#my writing #thanks for asking #my WIPs #ask #fanfiction #berlermo #my fics #I really need to stop procrastinating and write

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nicoforlifetrue · 4 years ago

Text

A lil short based on my idea of AE Fundy

-----

An empire of anarchy sounded self contradictory.

He wondered if he would have tought so too like everyone around him.

It was a funny tought how those two words where one in the same in his mind.

If his hair where red like the clay of river banks instead of the pristine white of snow.

Would he have tought teh same?

How much would he have changed?

He entertained the idea for a few moments as he so carefully braided his hair, the long strands of silver falling easily into the pattern.

With deft claws the messy became clean wrapping into a gentle bun before he secured his hat over it.

He looked at the mirror and could barely keep himself from laughing at the fools of l’manburg.

Him anything but an anarchist?

Anything but a bringer of chaos like all his family?

Green glinted as he flicked his ear in amusement, the soft gem the sung of home his own silent promise to his father, to his uncle and grandpa.

He was no governments dog.

He was a fox, clever and sly, fast and nimble.

He was his fathers son, charismatic and charming, danguruse and manipulative.

He was a part of the empire, an anarchist at heart.

“Fundy? You coming?”

And these fools tought they held his leash

“Yeah tubbo one second”

In one fluid motion he pulled on his jacket the thin material holding no weight compared to the normal layered he was accustomed too.

He could already feel himself beginning to over heat.

It was one of the thousands of issues this nation had, the over whelming heat it never niped at his nose or teased his toes like the cold did, no it sunk into his skin and dragged him down.

He opened the door with a calm smile on his face, some one he once considered near family stood there waiting for him.

Tubbo was a good kid once.

Infact fundy had grown up playing with the other but now looking at him he only held mild disliking.

This man was now but a dog to him, a mangy mutt of order and law.

“Sorry had to put up my hair, musta got out of its tie last night”

“I still dont see why you dont just cut it if it bothers you that much” tubbo sighed turning and beginning to walk fundy trailing at his side.

“I like it long do i really need anouther reason?” and because he grew up with it long, how his uncle and grandfather had long hair, how he had grown up with his uncle teaching him how to carefully put it up and his grandfather brushing it and his father washing it, how it was just anouther sign of family.

“No not really” tubbo hums “ok so heres todays plan”

He hums along to other eyes trailing outside and his fake smile turning genuin as soft fluffy flakes drift down from the sky, its not cold enough for him to feel it yet, but it dosent matter as the two step out sid ean dthe flakes land on his coat, speackling the black fabric with white.

“Hey where gonna have a white christmas!” he hears tubbo cheer and he finds himself chuckling.

“Hey tubbo i actually need to take care of something, think you can handle yourself?”

He pretends to not notice the other droop a little.

“Oh uh yeah fundy go ahead’

With the simple dismissal he leaves, like a good dog being shooed away, he finds his steps turn into a playful skip once he knows hes out of site, tail swaying happily as he travels.

His father is waiting for him when he arrives at his diestonation, wrapped in whites and blues, alive as ever.

Its funny what a man can make people think with enough acting.

Youd think theyd figure it out when they realized “ghostbur” was corporal.

----

It went wrong so quickly.

And now tubbo stood staring at someone he had sworn he could trust watched fundy gaze at the madness before turning to tubbo with a cold smirk on his face.

“Whats the saying? It was never meant to be? Starting to think this place is cursed, old friend’

Tubbo feels his hands shake his body tremble as his perception crumbles once more.

“Why did you betray us!” he asked, no he demands, because he has to know, he has to know why the last person he considered close, considered family, betrayed him who before him now stands clad in white and blue, a trident shining with enchantments lazaly held in one hand teh shine of a an emerald like a beacon in the wash of pale frozen colors clipped neatly onto his ear.

“Your a filthy traitor, fox” he hears quackity growl, both freezing at teh cackle teh accused lets out, as cold and numbing as the air around them.

“I am no traitor” he humms calmly, shifting as he speaks, an air of cool confidence radiating off him, “i was born of the bitter cold and the wilds” their eyes meet and tubbo finds no comfort, no warmth, in the deep near endless brown. “I am the child of the empire” he states calmly.

With those simple words everything clicked thousands of things falling into place as the world raged around them, the crys of a whither and the blizzard falling deathly silent as tubbo stared at and ally that never was and finds himself whispering teh next words along side the other,as fundy states it clearly tubbo breaths it liek a prayer

“The empire of anarchy”

#AE fundy #dream smp #fundylive #tubbo

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dawniebb · 4 years ago

Text

We Need to Talk About Evie

but do we though?

OKAY SO.

To the anon who asked if we were making more content, this is it :)

Let’s just say that this was another sort of marathon about the canon divergence universe I share with @healing-winston-pratt ! And this one included two lists, a drawing and a fic :) which is this one. Basically, a “Maggie is Evie” reveal bc I love to hurt myself and other people. I wrote this MONTHS ago :) but still, I hope you like it! <3

For background:

Why is Winston alive and why do Nova and him live with Leroy?

And some other things related to the canon divergence universe, but NOT to this fic:

About Evander’s family

Their portrait: https://healing-winston-pratt.tumblr.com/post/626983013669044224/sandra-obrien-wade-and-arthur-evander-wade

We absolutely don’t need to talk about Evie right now bc we’re having a hard time already, but here we go :)

@novadreamer95438 , @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff there you go! (And @obsidianfr3sk bc I saw your tags about the fics jsjsjs and @jacihayle, but, in both your cases, you haven’t asked to be tagged and we’re doing it in case you wanted to get the notification, hence, if you want to be removed from the tag list, just notify us, that’s totally fine <3 )

They were sitting across the table, and it was super uncomfortable.

Nova thought about a married couple who was about to tell their grown ass child they were getting a divorce, even though the idea of an universe where for some reason Winston and Leroy were the same age and decided to get married absolutely repulsed her.

However, as disgusting as that sounded, that was what they looked like. They were even sitting next to each other, and while Winston tried to smile a bit, Leroy looked dead inside.

Not that he were physically able to look in some other way.

Damn.

She was used to all of this. These situations. These types of scenes.

And yet, she wanted it to be over once and for all. These had been the longest 5 minutes of her life. So long she even had to look at her clock to check how many minutes had passed, because she was almost sure they had been sitting there for at least 15.

But no. 5 minutes.

5 suffocating and eternal minutes.

Finally, Winston sensed and acknowledged this was getting kind of weird and, while straightening his back, he spoke in a fake upbeat voice.

“So… “He said.

Then his tone felt flat and his voice turned into nothing, because it disappeared. Like that. After his first word, he was out of courage again. And he stayed there, with his mouth half-open.

But Nova couldn’t tolerate this any longer, so this time she took (or at least tried to) the lead.

“So?” She asked with a determinate, almost demanding tone. “I was kinda in the middle of something, so… if you guys could…you know, tell me what did you call me for?”

Technically, she wasn’t lying. She was in the middle of something. It wasn’t work-related, but still it was something.

Nova tended to take her inventions, her personal projects, pretty seriously and Winston and Leroy were more than aware of that, and since she knew that, she found it very rude of them to interrupt her; to take her out of her zone so they could all sit around the table in an awkward and tense silence, listening to the sound of their own breaths. That is, she wasn’t usually this this harsh towards them, but they had managed to put her in a bad mood.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course you wanna know what is it that we called you for.” Winston sniffed, lacing his fingers together on the table. He looked…no, he acted nervous.

Nova didn’t know what he was about to say or what they were trying to tell her, but she was sure as hell that, after this, Winston would have to talk to his therapist, as he was continuously clearing his throat to stop his fake high-pitched tone from coming out instead of his real voice.

“We need to talk.” He concluded.

Nova snorted, while Leroy rubbed his face so hard she could see the trace of his hand on his own skin…As if he were helping much to the situa…

“Goddamn. Don’t do that. It’s not like you’re being too helpful.”

Thank you.

“I know.” Leroy said in a monotonous tone. “However…”

“No. Please. Just stop. I’m shaking and you’re just making it worse. If you’re not gonna do anything to help then stop grimacing at me or get the fuck out.”

“Man.”

“You act like an old, adult-sized, grumpy toddler. Grow up.”

Nova bit her lip, trying to convince herself this wasn’t funny, even though it was. In the past, being aware Winston was mad would’ve been extremely scary (The fact he was kind to her didn’t mean he could be underestimated. Winston had easily been the most dangerous Anarchist after Ace and Ingrid) but right now it was just…this. He could have a bad temper if he put his mind into it, though he would move on after like 30 minutes or so.

And Leroy knew that too, so he didn’t get offended.

That, and the fact that it was extremely hard to make Leroy feel offended.

Winston closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to get his chill back and align his freaking chakras.

Nova hissed. She had had this idea for a couple of minutes now, but she decided that it was the time to spit it out because, besides being eager to go back to the basement, she could feel the stress levels were getting out of control and they were at the point where they soon would start killing each other.

“If this is about The Talk.” Nova said, and once their attention was back at her, she repeated, air quoting:

“The Talk.”

“We know what you’re referring to.” Leroy nodded.

“Yeah. So…there’s no need for that.” She assured. “I already know about that stuff. Honey gave me a really graphic lecture back in the day and, not to offend you guys, but I’m not sure I want to go through that again. I appreciate the intention, but…”

“It’s not about that.” Leroy said. Cold, almost like he wanted her to shut up. Nova knew there was no use in feeling attacked or bad because that was the way Leroy usually spoke to everyone. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge in her stomach. In Leroy’s mind, from what she had heard, seen and experienced, she didn’t fit in the everyone category.

“Oh.” She gulped. “What is it, then?”

Leroy stared at her, Nova stared at Winston when Leroy’s stare was too heavy, and Winston stared at Leroy too.

So good ol’ Cyanide had no other option but to open his mouth again.

“We need to talk about Evie.”

And the world went numb. Her world. Her entire, little, shattered world.

And even though everything around it was in flames, Nova’s body, which held her little world, felt frozen. She was made of ice.

And she felt extremely cold.

She looked at both Winston and Leroy with all the hatred she was yet to dispose; all the resentment she still carried within; all the pain that still ate from her insides from now and then; until she realized she had skipped at least 5 seconds breath, and her legs responded, helping her up from the chair almost against her will.

They had no right.

They weren’t allowed to mention that. Not yet.

Not when they knew she was yet to heal.

Not when they knew they were ripping open an old, painful scar.

“No, we don’t.” She stated directly. “The only person I’ll talk to about that at the moment is my therapist and if you don’t like it it’s not my obligation to apologize. You’ll have to deal with that. You’re grown ass men.”

This time it was Winston’s turn to rub his face until there has a hand-shaped red line all the way through it.

“Wow, you fucking genius.” He barked at Leroy. “So sensitive and subtle, as al—“

“YOU’RE GROWN ASS MEN!” Nova slammed the table, feeling so furious she didn’t even find the time to cry.

Mostly because didn’t feel like crying.

Instead, she felt like screaming in a pillow until her throat bled.

“HEY! FINE, FINE! CALM DOWN!” Winston reached for her hand, grabbing her by the wrists. “CALM DOWN, YOU’LL HURT YOUR HANDS!”

She stopped. Not because she was more calm, but because Winston looked genuinely worried and she couldn’t help but feel…something.

Nova breathed like an enraged bull until her lungs ached and Winston’s gaze felt bigger than her, along with his hold.

Just like when she was little, during stormy nights.

Winston and Leroy were always the best at calming her down. And even now, no matter how hard she tried, every time they did stuff like this she went numb. A weird type of numb.

A good type of numb.

“Good.” Winston sighed. “Would you mind to sit down?”

She did it, as her body suddenly felt heavy as a rock; her body touched the chair again, and she shivered but tried to act normal.

“I’m sorry.” Leroy said in a hoarse voice. And even if she expected something more, that something never came, but Nova understood anyways.

Still, she didn’t find the strength to answer.

Winston rubbed his hands against each other and gently pushed his glass of water across the table towards her, but although her throat was dry, she refused to drink from it. She still had something called pride.

“What do you want?” She asked coldly.

“Nova, look…”

“What do you want?” She asked again, annoyed. “Do you want to know about how I left her to die?”

Winston shut his eyes closed as if he had received a really painful punch, and he scratched his forehead.

“What do you want from me? What do you want to know?” Nova begged from them to answer. “Please. I don’t know what do you want or why do you want it but let’s just…get this over with.”

“We don’t want anything from you.” Leroy started, this time in a less hurtful and soulless tone. “We’ve already caused you too much harm all over the years and we’re trying to make it up to you. Hence, I apologize for broaching the subject in such a sudden and violent way.”

Nova’s lips trembled, just like her hands.

“Fine.” She said.

Just…fine.

Nothing else to say.

Not at the moment, at least.

“And I apologize in advance for having to bring this up in the first place.” Winston licked his lips and cleared his throat. Again. “We even consulted your doctor and everything and, needless to say, we were advised not to act like asses about it. But somebody did anyway so…”

“You’ve thrown so many bricks at me I could build a wall with them, Winston. Thanks for your cooperation.”

“You’re welcome, you insensitive piece of shit.”

As fast as he directed his attention to Leroy, he directed it to Nova again, who just sniffed, blinded by rage.

“You talked to my doctor.” She said. Not as a question, but rather as a statement.

Because that’s what it was, and she wasn’t going to apologize for that either.

“We did.” Winston nodded. “Remember that she provided us with her contact and stuff, in case you…”

“I know.” Nova massaged her temples. “I know.”

“She didn’t provide any confidential information, nor did she give us any type of sensitive details about your sessions.” Leroy assured. “So there’s no need for you to be…worried about that.”

She wasn’t worried about that. She trusted them enough, even if sometimes she wasn’t willing to admit it. At least, she trusted them enough to know that, if someday her therapist saw herself in the necessity to tell them something, anything about what happened during the appointments, she wouldn’t be mad.

Not too much, at least.

But this was just too out of character even for them. And, not to sound harsh, but she would’ve expected it from someone like Hugh. Not them. Not Winston and Leroy.

“I’m not.” She said, trying to remain in a neutral tone. “So…please, please just tell me what’s this issue that’s so delicate you had to talk to my therapist before talking to me.”

They stared to each other for a second, before Leroy handed the folder he’d been keeping under his arm to Winston; the one she hadn’t paid too much attention to, as she thought it was…normal paperwork stuff.

Winston didn’t hand it to Nova. Instead, he put it on the table and placed both his hands on top of it.

“So. You’ve been told about and even helped with the updates to the Renegades system.” Winston said. High-pitched.

“Correct.” Nova’s eyelid was twitching.

“And…well, you know, since you are…a Renegade.” Winston coughed. “They had to take DNA samples from you to…”

“Upload it to the system. Let’s skip that part. I know it.” Nova rolled her eyes. She had no idea why they were going around the topic so much. “I’m the one they took samples from. I had to sign for permission. There’s no need to explain something I did. “

“Okay, okay. I’m…I’m sorry. You’re right.” Winston sniffed. “But…we need to mention it because…well…”

“They took samples from all the current Renegade recruits: Members of the Council, patrol units, the janitorial team, the Headquarters staff…” Leroy took a deep breath. “….Winston and I had been suspicious about this for a while but still…”

“Still, we didn’t know.” Winston nodded. “….Gosh. This is going to be fucking hard.”

Nova crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s going to be hard?” She laughed sarcastically. “And what does Evie even have to do with this? What is this all about?”

When they just looked at her, she thought she might have been missing something. Or failing to catch something in that case. Not that she cared at this point.

“Nova. The thing is that…” Winston took a deep breath. “We…”

A nervous laugh escaped his mouth, while Leroy played with the fabric of the tablecloth, absently.

“We…uhm…” He gulped. “We got…a match.”

She heard and comprehended the structure of the sentence, but it didn’t make sense at all in her head. So, the best answer she could think of was:

“A match of what?” in a harsh tone, arching her eyebrow as she tilted her head to the side.

“What the fuck are you two talking about?”

Winston hissed, and Leroy cleared his throat.

“A match, Nova.” Leroy clarified.

And after remaining in silence for at least three seconds, he spoke again, just because Winston refused to do it.

“A DNA that matches yours. And that, comparing it to the samples they took from Evie when she was born…it…uhm….also matches hers.”

She heard the words through a blank noise that invaded her ears. Deafening.

She felt the hot tears creating a vessel through her vision, as her arms tightened around her chest. And somehow, the answer was still clear as water.

“That’s bullshit.” She declared. “Those tests are wrong because the Renegades are still negligent as fuck. So that’s pure bullshit. That’s pure and utter…”

“Nova…”

“I was there the day she died and I could’ve saved her but I didn’t so she fucking died.” She stated, calm. “That’s the way things are. That’s what happened. That’s what…”

“Nova.”

“Nova. Listen.” Leroy stared directly at her eyes.

And this time he looked absolutely destroyed, so she listened.

For once.

“Her name’s Margaret White.” He said, slowly. “That’s Evie. That’s your sister.”

Her heartbeat turned into a drum, beating so fast it made her whole body ache. She turned into a car about to crash against a fence. A rollercoaster. A train wreck. A hurricane about to happen. And above all that noise, all she could hear were the bullets; all she could touch was Evie’s soft baby skin; all she could feel was the apartment’s floor beneath her bare feet; all she could smell was her mother’s blood above her brow; all she could remember was Magpie’s face.

All she could recognize was the bullet she carried around in her pocket.

All she could remember was how that kid had stolen her bracelet. Twice.

How she stared at her so full of disdain, directing a different type of sneer at her every single time; so resented with everyone, even with herself people she didn’t know.

Magpie, that Magpie, was the little baby Nova had mourned for more than half of the years she had been alive.

Magpie, who hated her and everyone else.

“Oh, Nova…” Winston tried to reach for her hand, but Nova slapped his’ away as hard as she could, careful not to release her power on him, just because she wanted to confront both of them.

“That’s bullshit.” She repeated, frantic. “It can’t be true.”

All she’d done.

“It can’t be true. Those papers are wrong.”

All she’d suffered.

“It’s not true.”

All she’d risked to avenge her sister.

“You’re lying.” She said, tears streaming down her face, begging they were lying.

All she’d done and risked…just for her beloved little sister to be alive.

Her chest went up and down, violently, as she covered her ears to avoid hearing their voices.

“NO!” She screeched, getting up from her chair. “YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE LYING! YOU ALL ARE NOTHING BUT…!”

“NOVA, PLEASE, CALM DOWN!”

She slammed her fist on the table once again, as she felt her whole body losing control. Shaking. Shivering. Trembling.

Crumbling apart along with her life.

Her lie of a life.

Her little sad world full of lies and grief.

And now grief was also a lie.

“YOU’RE FUCKING LYING!”

Couldn’t it had been, at least, somebody that loved her?

-.-

By the time the healer was gone, Simon finally noticed the little wounds in Winston’s hands. He also had bitten his nails until he reached his skin and it started to bleed.

And his face was soaked.

And that, even if it was odd to admit it, broke his heart. He was absolutely distraught, just like Leroy, even though Leroy was handling it way better.

If Simon hadn’t been through this many times, he probably would’ve reacted the same as Winston.

“Is she…?”

“Yeah. She’ll be fine.” Hugh cleared his throat.

It had happened so fast they didn’t even have time to put on their uniforms. They were here, with regular clothes, just because Leroy and Winston hadn’t figured who else to call.

“The healer gave her some sedatives. It’ll take a couple of minutes, but she’ll…she’ll be fine.” Hugh said, to which Winston hiccupped and nodded, even if he wasn’t crying anymore.

Leroy showed no reaction. He was staring at a blank space in the nearest wall.

“We figured …maybe you don’t consider it adequate that Adrian spends the night here, so…he already notified the rest of the team members and Tucker volunteered. You…know her, right?”

“We do.” Winston said in a hoarse voice. “The…girl with this… grappling hook, right? Ruby.”

“Err… not quite a grappling hook but yeah. That’s her.”

Oh my god, Hugh.

Later Simon would lecture him about how it was non polite to be this dense.

Right now, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the scene that could be seen through the ajar bedroom door.

Nova was kneeling on the carpet while Adrian hugged her from the back, covering her body with his’.

You’re lying.

That’s what she said. On loop.

And Stars, Simon wished they were.

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novannna · 4 years ago

Text

Same Sea, Same Soul, Same Heart

HAPPY HOLIDAYS YALL!!!

I’ve mentioned my nobell pirate au a few times before, but i’m finally posting it.

Danna is the daughter of a noble in Gatlon city. Gatlon is ruled by King Hugh and King Simon, members of the Renegades, the gruop that saved it from the anarchists and Ace Anarchy. Nova is the niece of Ace Anarchy and is the worlds most feared and dangerous pirate. She kidnaps Danna as ransom, and while they travel back to Danna’s father the two girls begin to realize they weren’t so different after all...

im posting this a day late, but whatever. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think i need constant validation <3

tw: guns, blood, death, violence,

wc: 1222

link to masterlist

Prologue

Nova ran through the streets, her dirty shirt flapping behind her. Glancing anxiously over her shoulder, she gripped the loaf of bread in her hand tighter, although no one was there. She had lost them. Slowly, Nova slowed to a halt, her breath coming out in short, painful gasps. Wincing, Nova pressed her hands to her ribs. Her skin felt paper thin, and it hung off her small form.

The warm, thick smell wafting up from the bread made her stomach rumble, but she ignored the hunger. Her family needed it more than her.

Nova groaned, then started to run once more, her bare feet slapping against the rough ground.

---

“Nova! Oh, thank goodness you’re back,” Her mom said as soon as she walked through the door. She rushed over to envelop Nova in a warm hug.

“Mama! I’m fine,” She complained, struggling to escape. “Look! I got bread.” Nova proudly presented the loaf. It had gotten dirty from her hands, but it was food. The first they had had in a long time.

“Nova, where did you get this?” Her father asked, coming to them. “Did you steal it?”

“Well…” Nova looked down, and scuffed her foot against the hard packed dirt floor.

“Nova, you know I don’t want you to get caught up in crime,” her dad said. He crouched down to Nova’s level, and grasped her hands. “If you got arrested, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“But Papa, it was so easy to take! Just sitting there. And besides, it’s not like the baker needed it. He has more than enough money already. It’s not fair! We starve, while he gets richer off of our suffering.” Nova stomped her foot hard against the ground.

Evie started to wail, and her mother cursed and hurried off.

“Look, Nova I know it doesn’t seem fair, but you have to trust that the Renegades will take care of us. It’s their job.”

“I don’t think they care about people like us,” Nova said.

“What do you mean people like us?”

“Well, like villains. This area is all criminals. All liars, and thieves. Probably murderers too.”

Her dad laughed. “Am I a criminal, little one? Do I look like a thief?”

“...No”

“Exactly. Don’t worry. If we need help, then the Renegades will give it to us. Okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay... But I’m still eating the bread.” Nova grinned, her gap toothed smile full of joy.

David Artino chuckled. “Of course you can. But save some for us.”

---

Nova slept curled around Evie, sleeping well for the first time in ages. It was one of the rare quiet moments in the slums. No angry voices, or gunshots, or screams.

Of course it didn’t last long. It never did.

The door flew open, waking Nova up. A man stalked into the room. She curled back against the wall, grabbing Evie, silently begging the sleeping child to stay asleep.

“Mr. Artino,” the man said.

Her dad stood in between him and her mom.

“What do you want?”

Nova could see how scared her dad was. But he tried to remain brave.

“You’ve made some big mistakes,” the man growled. “I was hired to make sure you never make them again.”

“No… please! I can pay you. Or… or I can help out in any way. Please, don’t hurt my family.”

The man laughed. “You can’t pay me enough. You brought this upon yourself.”

He pulled out a gun, and raised it high.

He pulled the trigger.

BANG.

Her mom collapsed, blood pouring from her forehead.

Nova screamed. “Mama! No!”

“Nova, go,” Her dad yelled. “I love you so-”

BANG.

Her father slumped forwards, leaving a smear of blood on the floor.

The man grinned. “Nowhere to go now, little one,” he taunted.

Nova’s small body heaved with sobs, but somehow she summoned enough energy to bolt away from him. She flew out the door, and into the dirty streets. Doors were shut tight, and there were no sounds except the barking of stray dogs. Nova ran as fast as she could, still holding Evie tight to her chest. The baby was still asleep.

One second, Nova was sprinting through the streets, and the next she was sprawled across the ground. She must have tripped.

Her entire body was covered with scrapes, but Nova had to keep moving. She had to keep-

Where was Evie? Her baby sister wasn’t in her arms anymore.

The sleeping child had landed in an old pile of blankets. Nova gasped in relief, and rushed to her side.

While the young girl was unharmed, she was no longer asleep. Evie opened her mouth, and began to sob. Loudly.

“No, shh, shh,” Nova begged. “You have to stay quiet Evie.”

“It’s too late for that,” a low voice said.

Nova whirled around.

The man stood over them, his face splattered with her parents’ blood. He raised his gun, face emotionless.

He pulled the trigger.

BANG.

Evie’s cries stopped.

Nova fell to her knees.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Everything Nova had ever cared about was gone. Gone forever. With three gunshots, Nova’s life disappeared.

Her father had promised that the Renegades would be there to give help when they needed it.

So where were they?

They didn’t care about her. They didn’t care about any of them.

Nova’s tears stopped, and she glared at the man holding the gun.

“You killed my family,” she hissed.

He laughed. “Don’t worry. Your next. Then this little nightmare will be over.” He raised the gun up for the fourth time.

It was going to be the last time.

Nova’s body jerked into action. She twisted her arm around the man’s, and the gun clattered to the ground. Nova lunged forwards, and picked it up with her steady fingers.

“You think you can hurt me?” The man cackled. “You have guts, I’ll give you that.”

“You killed my parents. I’m going to kill you.”

“I was doing my job. I was surviving.”

“That’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

He laughed. “Kid, stop playing. I know you can’t pull the-”

BANG.

The man fell backwards. Nova stared at the gun in her hands, dropping it like it was a snake.

“Oh, Nova. I’m so sorry,” a strong voice said. Strong arms pulled her close.

“Uncle Alec?” Nova hiccuped.

He nodded. “I stopped by your house and saw your parents. Is your sister…”

Nova shook her head. “He killed them Uncle. They’re gone. I’m alone.”

“No, Nova. You have me. I can train you to take revenge on men like him.”

“No. It wasn’t his fault. It was the Renegades. They are supposed to protect us, but they don’t care. If they did, then my parents would be alive.”

Alec grinned. “Then I’ll train you to take revenge on the Renegades. They gave you this nightmare, so you’ll be theirs.”

“Uncle Alec?” Nova asked tearfully.

“Yes Nova?”

“I don’t want to be a good guy.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Papa said that the Renegades were the good guys. I never want to be like them.”

“Then you can be a bad guy. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. I promise.” He hugged her tightly. “But you can’t call me Alec anymore. To the world, I’m Ace. Ace Anarchy.”

Tag list: @honey-harper-official @nobellrenaissance @thepurpledragon4444 @nova-artino @phobidawg @janisarkisian @furrytamayarae

(let me know if u want to be added or taken off my tag list!!!)

#nobell #nobell pirate au #Same Sea Same Soul Same Heart #my writing #renegades #renegade fanfic #au #wlwrenegades #nova artino #danna bell #novanna #this au is literally my child and honestly probably the favourite fanfic ive ever written #please like reblog and comment i need validation <3

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jedimasterbailey · 4 years ago

Text

Sneak Preview of Chapter 8 of “The Padawans”

Ahsoka overhears what Sidious intends to do with Barriss and needless to say, it doesn’t sit well with her.

Link to full fic below!

Darth Sidious disembarks his personal shuttle with his most trusted Imperial guards leading the way to Riyo Chuchi’s palace. The Fifth Brother and the Seventh Sister walk silently beside their Emperor, both perplexed as to why they were accompanying the Sith Lord. For they had both failed miserably at keeping Barriss Offee in their custody by allowing the Mirialan escape with Ahsoka Tano, another wanted Jedi. Their punishment was one neither would ever forget. They had been electrocuted by Sidious’s lightning repeatedly until their flesh began to burn. As a result, the Seventh Sister now relied on a vocabulator to speak, her vocal cords having been damaged beyond repair and the Fifth Brother wore more armor to cover the raw skin that has yet to heal. Failure was no longer an option for the duo if they valued their lives.

Just before they were greeted by the Pantoran Senatorial guard, Sidious addresses the Inquisitors with their next assignment in a low voice.

“There is a Jedi here. It appears Senator Chuchi has set a trap for me to spring. Find this Jedi and hold him or her for questioning while I deal with our host. There is a chance it could be the very one you fools have lost. Do not fail me again!”

“Yes, my Lord.” The Inquisitors simultaneously say before stepping aside.

The Seventh Sister then calls for one of her probe droids using a remote on her wrist. Within seconds, the requested droid flew out of the Emperor’s ship and perched itself on it’s mistress’s shoulders ready for orders.

“Search the area and see if you can pick up another lifeform that isn’t the Senator or her staff. Apparently she thinks she can hide a Jedi from us.” The Seventh Sister orders in her new distorted voice.

The probe droid immediately begins to work as it flew from the Inquisitor's shoulder the minute she uttered the word “Jedi”.

______________________________________________________________________

Sensing Palaptine’s presence getting closer to the palace, Ahsoka conceals her own Force signature and takes shelter in the palace’s ventilation system following Riyo’s footsteps underneath. Ahsoka could feel Riyo’s fear and anxiety building which worried her deeply. From what the Togruta has seen based on Imperial propaganda in the worlds she’s traveled to, Palpatine was certainly frightening and intimidating, but he was also portrayed to be the same noble leader as he was before the Empire. Was Riyo fearful for her life? Or was she just unsettled by the change of plans?

Ahsoka leaned on the latter knowing they had yet to discuss their plan on how to deal with the Emperor with the subject of Barriss having been a distraction. Despite knowing Riyo’s intention and motivation, Ahsoka was still set on persuading her friend to think of another solution. If there’s one thing Ahsoka was sure of, it was that taking a life, no matter what the reason was, was an act that could never be erased from one’s consciousness. Barriss’s words and facial expressions on the matter has proven that. She did not want that same fate for Riyo. There had to be another way.

Ahsoka’s breath hitched in her throat seeing Palpatine approach Riyo. The man was obviously a Sith Lord in the eyes of a Jedi, but to someone like Riyo, he was deformed old man with an unnatural eye color. Ahsoka concentrates hard on suppressing her hatred for the man for the sake of staying hidden. If Palpatine was able to orchestrate an entire galactic war without consequence, then Ahsoka knew better to underestimate his abilities on detecting the slightest change in the atmosphere.

Riyo, now properly dressed in formal attire, bows to Palpatine.

“Emperor Palpatine, it is an honor to have you in my home. Though you are here earlier than expected.”

Palpatine gives a false smile, “Yes, Senator. Your invitation admittedly piqued my interest and I could not wait to meet. It isn’t everyday I have an excuse to leave Coruscant.”

Riyo reciprocates the gesture.

“Then we should waste no time then. Allow me to show you to my office.”

Ahsoka quietly follows the crowd above, going as far as to hold one lightsaber in with one hand and the other with her teeth to prevent any noise. The situation was too delicate for there to be any mistakes. To her surprise, Ahsoka hears Palpatine dismiss his red cloaked guards outside the office, leaving him alone with Riyo.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Riyo says calmly, taking her usual seat, “I could have someone fetch us some refreshments if you’d like?”

“That would be lovely, my dear.” Palpatine accepts, sitting down.

After Riyo informs someone of her staff of the Emperor’s request, the secret Sith Lord immediately brings up the very subject he knew disturbed Pantoran.

“I take it that you are displeased with what has become of the Talz?”

“Forgive me your grace, but I must admit that their extermination was unnecessary. They were no harm to anyone and it’s because of their extinction that my people have become more fearful of the Empire. The increased number of Stromtroopers in our cities and towns enforcing curfews and inciting violence deeply concerns me as someone who is supposed to be protecting them. That’s why I wanted to negotiate as to how the Empire can improve its relations with Pantora.” Riyo says with the same amount of sophistication and grace as Padme once did in the Senate.

Feigning a look of confusion, Palpatine folds his hands, “I’m sorry my dear, but I must disagree with the notion that the presence of my Stormtroopers or the extinction of the Talz are of any harm to your people. The troopers are there to maintain the peace and order the Republic failed to accomplish.These men are instructed to detain any rebels who dare to disturb the peace. You know as well as I do that we as a galaxy are still recovering the Clone wars; we cannot run the risk of having individuals rise against the stability we have created. Don’t forget that it was Count Dooku, a political anarchist, who started all the fighting that the Jedi enabled. Surely you and your people have not forgotten what a dark time that was!”

Riyo shakes her head, “Of course not, your Excellency. I, like the late Senator Amidala, were one of the few who voted against the fighting.”

“Yes, I remember.” Palpatine sighs, now appearing to look mournful, “May she rest in peace, Amidala. I miss her immensely. I’d like to think that she would have been proud of the new order.”

From above, Ahsoka grimaces at Palpatine’s words as they couldn’t be further from the truth. Padme would undoubtedly be leading the Rebel alliance if she were still alive.

“That still does not explain why the Talz needed to be killed.” Riyo argues coolly.

A servant then entered the room with a tray of tea and assortment of Pantoran delicacies, temporarily stopping Palpatine from answering. It was only after the two gave their thanks and had the room back to themselves that the Emperor was able to give the answer both Ahsoka and Riyo knew to be a lie.

“I never ordered for the Talz to be terminated.” Palpatine says steadily maintaining direct eye contact with Riyo, “I only deployed a squadron of my people to set up a base on the moon given how suitable the environment would be for training purposes. My best guess is that the Talz attacked my troops and thus they were left with no other choice. I can understand how hard this all must be to hear knowing you were the one to establish peaceful relations. But you and I have no control as to how they respond to their new superiors. As I’ve said before, there is no room for hostility against the Empire.”

There was a moment of silence between the politicians allowing Ahsoka to digest Palpatine’s words. The answers to all of Riyo’s questions have been contradictory and infuriating. Anakin and Obi-wan had once told her that the Talz were welcoming and receptive to negotiation. A small part of Ahsoka wanted to hop back into her ship and destroy the “training camp” that was surely constructed over the bodies of the dead tribe. But Ahsoka knew better; Riyo was depending on her to not draw attention.

“That is...very unfortunate to hear.” Riyo professes sadly, bowing her head.

“Indeed.” Palpatine sighs before continuing, “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is not all of the bad news I have to share.”

Raising her head back up Riyo asks, “What is it?”

“There is a Jedi here.” Palpatine confesses, causing Ahsoka’s heart to leap into her throat.

Riyo’s eyes widen, “A Jedi? But how? I thought they were all dead?”

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” Ahsoka screams internally to herself, taking her lightsaber hilt out of her mouth in order to suppress the sound of her now heavy breathing. She was at a loss as to how Palpatine could know this despite having hid her ship and temporarily cutting her connection off from the Force. Ahsoka then reminded herself of something she knew to be true about the ways of the Sith; their order was rooted in deception.

“Maybe this is just an excuse for him to watch Riyo.”

The possibility brought some comfort for Ahsoka, but now any future communication with Riyo would be next to impossible between Palpatine and the Inquisitors he most likely brought with him.

“If only that were true, but alas there are still many survivors out there not to mention all the younglings that are born with such powers. But not to worry, I have two of my Jedi hunters here looking for him or her. Rest assured, I will not be leaving until the Jedi has been brought to justice. I wouldn’t feel comfortable returning to Coruscant knowing a dangerous traitor roams free on your planet. Despite what you may think of me Senator Chuchi, I really do keep your best interest at heart.” Palpatine affirms with another smile.

Even from a distance, Ahsoka could clearly see how uncomfortable Riyo looked, “Do you have an idea on who it may be?”

“To be perfectly honest with you Senator, I am not sure. However, there is an individual I am hoping to find here.” Palpatine admits causing Riyo to lean forward on her desk.

“And who would that be?”

“Barriss Offee.” Palpatine answers ensuing a fresh wave of panic to arise inside Ahsoka.

With a pained expression on her face, Riyo asks, “You mean the girl who bombed the Jedi Temple and escaped prison?”

“Precisely.”

“Why her specifically?”

To Ahsoka’s horror, Palpatine laughs, “Well aren't you a curious girl! Unless you’re aware of Ms. Offee’s whereabouts and are hiding her from me?”

Riyo rapidly shakes her head, “Of course not! Barriss is just an interesting choice given what she has done. It would make more sense for someone like her to hide in some remote world far from the Core worlds. A Mirialan would be very easy to spot on Pantora!”

Palaptine raises a hand, “Ms. Offee is not to be underestimated Senator Chuchi. I know Barriss to be an incredibly powerful and intelligent warrior. We both may not agree with her crimes, but her speech on the Republic and the Jedi’s involvement in the war rung with truth. She saw the future we were all blind to and for that, I’m hoping I could extend a peace offering to her. Her skills would actually become a great asset to the Empire.”

“The Jedi failed her and pushed her to do what she did, but I know I could help her. I could give her the love and attention she was denied. Perhaps she could succeed me in becoming Empress one day.”

Ahsoka bared her fangs as her blood began to boil at what Palpatine’s intentions were for Barriss. Everything Bail had told her after the events of the trail now made sense. Palpatine was hoping Barriss’s anger would fester into a hatred he could manipulate between denying Master Luminara’s visitation rights and removing the death penalty. The idea of Barriss becoming a Sith apprentice nauseated Ahsoka to the point where she was afraid she would vomit in the vent.

Not wanting to hear another word, Ahsoka knew she needed to get out and run far away from the palace. She needed to unleash her anger and her sadness before it got the better of her and made itself known to the Sith Lord. Ahsoka quickly grabs her lightsabers and navigates her way to Riyo’s bedroom where she knew she could escape without being seen.

The journey proved itself to be a challenge for Ahsoka as her emotions were quickly turning into hysteria. Her heart was hammering against her chest so hard that she felt she couldn’t breathe. Tears also began to stream down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Ahsoka had not felt this kind of visceral reaction since her days of hiding on Thabeska after the events of Order 66.

Back then, Ahsoka understood fully why the phenomena would happen; she knew she was stressed about Anakin's whereabouts and she knew she was grieving the fact that she had to fight and bury the 501st alone, with Rex being the only survivor. Now, Ahsoka wasn’t entirely sure why she was reacting this way.

Knowing about Palpatine’s insidious plan for Barriss was upsetting, but was there something more to it, and the only way to find that out was to be as far away from Palpatine as possible.

Ahsoka was beginning to see stars when at last she saw her way out. She quickly punches the vent open and hops out of the opening, gasping for air. Taking a few steps back, Ahsoka then sprints out of the room and leaps over the balcony, dropping several meters down to the ground below. Upon landing, Ahsoka proceeds to run away from the palace and out into the open marshes, completely unaware of the probe droid that had spotted her and was now alerting its master.

#ahsoka tano #barriss offee #barrisoka #barrissoka #star wars fanfiction

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redassassin · 4 years ago

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a beautiful nightmare

part 10 -> finale

this is not the ending that this au deserves, and i apologize for that. i planned out this entire story, except for how i was going to end it. i'm not good with endings, least of all happy ones, but i felt that for once they deserved one, so i did my best. i have so many fic ideas for 2021, as well as another series planned, and i felt the need to end this one before i started anything new. thank you to everyone who read this, and i'm sorry

Adrian was exhausted. The last thing he remembered was Nova. Her lips against his, his hands in her hair, her breath hot against his mouth. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned, shaking away his horrible nightmares. He’d only encountered Phobia once before, but ever since they first met he had plagued Adrian in his nightmares.

Adrian blinked away the final traces of sleep and began to take in his surroundings. Stars glittered in the night sky through the large windows of the domed room. He figured he was probably in a church or some other old building. Clanging echoed from down below and he strained to hear the faint noise. Pushing himself off the table, he tripped over a figure sprawled on the floor.

Nova.

Picking himself off the floor, he immediately knelt beside her, shaking her gently. Her skin was covered in welts and scratches, her skin deathly pale and glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

“Nova?”

Her eyelids twitched, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive.

“Hey. Nova?” He shook her again, a little harder. This time her eyes opened all the way, and she stared up at him, blinking in confusion.

“Adrian?”

He helped her sit up and she hissed in pain, her eyes filling with tears. Adrian reached into his jacket for his pen. “Where does it hurt?”

She looked down at her dress, her shaky hands feeling the fabric. “Everywhere.”

He took her hand and she whimpered. Offering a sympathetic smile, he drew a droplet above one of the stings, pulling it from her skin and gently rubbing it in. She sighed as the salve soaked into her skin, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

They sat in silence as Adrian slowly made his way through all the welts on her hands and arms, pausing when the last one was cleaned and bandaged. Nova started to shrug her dress from her shoulders and Adrian looked away, shrugging off his jacket and offering it to her to cover herself as he tended to the stings on her back and stomach. With every bandage, a little bit of her pain disappeared, until it was no longer a sharp, stabbing pain, only a small ache.

They had stayed silent the entire time, and only when Nova’s dress returned to her shoulders and Adrian draped his jacket over her did they speak.

“What happened?” Adrian asked, his voice cracking.

Nova started to tremble, tears filling her eyes once more. “It’s all my fault. Everything is my fault. I was a spy. I infiltrated the castle to kill you, Adrian. I’m Nightmare.” She started to cry, and although Adrian was still processing what she had just said, the sight of her tears immediately made him want to wrap her in a hug and never let go. He did, and she froze for only a moment before melting into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Adrian. I promise you it was real, I wasn’t just using you. I came to save you and stop this.” Her breathing was ragged and her words muffled as she whispered into his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

At that, Nova let out a loud sob and buried her head against his chest. He held her close, stroking her hair and kissing her head, waiting patiently while she sobbed in his arms.

Another crash sounded below them, echoing loudly, followed by two more, getting closer and closer. Nova pushed herself out of Adrian’s arms and to her feet, her knees momentarily buckling. She leaned against the stone slab Adrian had been tied up on, her eyes squeezed shut as she caught her breath. “We need to go.”

“Nova, what’s going on? Why are we here?”

Nova grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, her tattered skirts hanging around her ankles. “Ace will kill you if he sees you. He’s my uncle, I betrayed him, Honey tried to kill me, Leroy knocked her out, Danna threatened to kill me if anything happens to you, and we need to get out of here before they come back and kill both of us. The Renegades are here for you and they’ll be destroyed without you. We can talk about this later, I know it’s a lot, but we need to go. Now.”

Adrian stopped, mouth gaping. “Nova.”

A loud bang rang out, right below them. Nova shoved Adrian down the stairs, stumbling after him. They went through the first door they saw, to an empty passageway that was completely in shambles. Chunks of rocks littered the ground, the ceiling partially caved in in places. The floor shook as they ran, Nova constantly checking behind them to ensure that they weren’t followed.

“Nova.”

He pulled her back, right as they were about to reenter the main room. It was silent, and Nova couldn’t see anyone from the doorway, but it was dark and there was likely more than one Anarchist lurking in the shadows.

“Adrian, we have to fight. Ace, he’s too powerful. They need everyone they can get and without us, without me, I don’t know if we can win.” She was waving her hands frantically, the pain forgotten for the time being.

“I’m the Sentinel.”

She stopped, staying completely still for a moment, staring at him in shock, before slowly taking a breath and sighing. “Fair enough. I guess we need everything we’ve got.”

“You’re not mad?” He rubbed the back of his neck, offering her a small smile.

“I’m a supervillain. I brought you here to die. I feel like one of those things is a little more severe.” Although the Sentinel had once consumed her every thought, Adrian had slowly taken over, especially in the days leading up to the Gala.

“Adrian, I’m so sorry, I-”

He shook his head, gently grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. “You’re a good person, Nova. Once this is all over I think you’ll begin to see that.” “Adrian, you can’t even imagine all the things I’ve done. I can’t even count the number of people that will never be seen again, all because I didn’t stop the Anarchists.” She looked up at Adrian, her eyes full of remorse, and his heart broke.

“Hey, hey. It’s not your fault.” She started to speak but he continued before she could interrupt. “I need you to focus on me, okay? Everything will be all over soon and we can talk. But for right now, we need to focus on winning. That’s all that matters.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath. A scream pierced through the air and Nova flinched. Adrian pulled her closer, their fingers still laced together. He let go of her hand, cupping her face and forcing her to look into his eyes. “Nova, I really like you. I think you’re amazing and beautiful, and the only girl in the world for me. My opinion of you hasn’t changed, except I may respect you even more now.” His gaze flickered to her mouth and Nova licked her lips, her tired eyes still locked on his. Slowly, she leaned up, pressing her lips to his as gently as she could. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him as close as she possibly could, and Adrian’s hands found their place on her waist and in her hair. His fingers tugged gently at her hair as they kissed.

After a few moments they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together as they stared into each other’s eyes. They were both breathing heavily although the kiss had been short.

“Nova, I think- “Well, well, well,” A voice called out. “If it isn’t the false ruler.” Ace stood behind them, framed in the doorway. His body was covered in small scrapes, his uniform torn in places, but he was very much alive.

“Ace Anarchy.”

“I was hoping that my niece had taken care of you, but it appears that I was mistaken.” He raised his hand, and a chunk of marble flew at Nova. She stumbled to the side, almost tripping over her dress as she dodged. Adrian tore open the top buttons of his tattered dress shirt, pulling down the zipper tattoo on his sternum. The Sentinel’s suit engulfed him and he ran at Ace, flames erupting from his hand. With one wave of his hand, Ace sent Adrian flying into the wall. Nova screamed as Adrian crumpled to the floor, fracture lines spreading out from the point of impact. Nova tried to run to him but an invisible force slammed her into the wall, the broken marble stabbing at her back as Ace’s telekinesis pushed her against the wall.

“So, you betrayed us. You betrayed your family, for the very people who failed to protect yours all those years ago.” He strutted closer to Adrian, and Nova struggled against the invisible forces, determined that nothing would happen to Adrian. Ace leaned down, yanking the helmet from Adrian’s head and tossing it away. Ace’s hold on Nova loosened as Adrian rose up, under his control, back pressed against the wall. He started to choke as Ace smiled maliciously, hand extended.

“Ace, stop!” Nova shrieked. She ran towards them, but Ace stopped her, both hands outstretched now. She struggled against his hold as tears formed in her eyes, every one of Adrian’s desperate gasps for air like a knife embedded in her skin. “Stop.” She whimpered, starting to shake as she watched Adrian struggle. Her tears began to fall and she screamed in desperation, pushing against Ace’s will as hard as she could.

Ace was barely focused on her anymore, only watching Adrian with glee as he choked. His hold on Nova was still strong, but she was able to take a small step forwards. And another. She slowly made her way towards Ace, one tiny step at a time until she could almost reach out and touch him.

A blast echoed throughout the chamber adjacent to them and dust rained from the ceiling. A low rumble shook the floor and small pieces of rock started to fall on them. A loud crack sounded from above them and the ceiling fell. Ace lost control of Nova and Adrian and Nova scrambled towards the wall as Adrian crumpled to the floor once again. Rocks rained down on them, and Nova pressed herself against the wall, desperate to avoid them. Ace stood still in the center of the room, prepared to take control of them once again, but another large crack sounded and a section of the ceiling fell and Ace was gone. He disappeared under the elaborately painted stone. Nova gasped in horror, staring at the spot where Ace had stood, moments before.

“He’s… gone.” Her whisper was swallowed by a loud creak and a series of crashes that shook the foundations of the cathedral. Nova ran into the main room to see the wall Ace had built collapse, dust clouding the air. Adrian stumbled up behind her, rubbing his bruised neck with one hand and reaching for her hand with the other. Their fingers laced together and he pulled her close to him as she stumbled away from Ace’s body.

“We won, Nova. It’s over.” He wrapped his arms around her and they stumbled out into the main room. They were met with a crowd of confused faces, and more were climbing over the remains of the wall. Ruby, Oscar, and Danna ran to them, Ruby and Oscar throwing their arms around Adrian and Danna slowly walking up to Nova.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, sympathy apparent on her dirt-stained face.

Nova nodded her head slowly, not looking at Danna, instead staring off into space, seeing nothing.

“Nova?”

Her breathing was heavy as she blinked a few times and started to take in her surroundings. The ruins, the tired Renegades, the distinct lack of Anarchists. She assumed that they had fled the moment the wall started to cave in, and she didn’t blame them. They knew that Ace was gone. And she didn’t care. As long as they stayed far, far away from her she did not care.

A pair of arms wrapped around her. Ruby and Oscar. They didn’t say anything for a moment, waiting for Nova to react. She offered them a small smile, wrapping her arms around them in return. “I’m so sorry,” She whispered.

Danna and Adrian joined the embrace, and they all stood there for what seemed like forever, waiting for whatever was to come next.

“Adrian? Adrian!” Desperate shouts echoed throughout the hall and Adrian removed himself from their arms, turning towards the voices.

“Adrian, thank the skies you’re alive.” The Captain hugged him fiercely, and after a moment Adrian returned the embrace.

“Is everyone else okay?” Adrian asked. The Captain nodded, gesturing behind them to a crowd of battered but very much alive Renegades.

“What happened, Adrian?”

Adrian opened his mouth to answer, but Nova stepped in front of him.

“It’s all my fault.”

Adrian reached for her hand. “Nova, you don’t have to-”

“I’m Nightmare.” A series of gasps erupted from the crowd of Renegades, followed by angry muttering and the metallic ring of weapons being drawn. Adrian waved them down, but most of the weapons stayed drawn, glinting in the dim light of dawn. “Ace Anarchy is-was- my uncle.” She drew a shaky breath, ignoring the images flashing through her mind. “I’ve hated the Renegades since I was six, when they failed to protect my family after my father went to them, begging for help. My parents and sister were murdered in front of me, and the only person that came was Ace. He raised me, trained me, and when the time was right, sent me out into the world to take down the Renegades. I joined your ranks as a spy, waiting for the time to strike. They had poisoned me against not only the Renegades but also Adrian. I was told that he was exactly like them,” She said, gesturing at the Council. Nova took a deep breath, moving closer to Adrian as she continued. “Power-hungry, controlling, and greedy.” Cries of outrage sounded from the crowd, but they died down quickly as Nova continued, shouting over them. “But Adrian isn’t like them. He isn’t like you,” She said. “He’s kind and selfless and actually cares, cares more than they ever will. The only reason that your organization is still standing is because Adrian changed my mind. My mission was to kidnap him, leaving the Renegades in shambles, leading the Council to their death and paving the way for my Uncle to regain his throne.” She shuddered, remembering all of Ace’s threatening speeches as they made their plans. “I went to save Adrian. We escaped and fought Ace Anarchy, who is now dead. The other Anarchists have most likely fled. It’s all over.” She paused, pointing to the sunrise. “And, it’s daybreak. Your Prince is of age, and ready to reclaim his throne.” She offered Adrian a wobbly curtsy, her body still aching from the events of the day. “I believe in you,” She whispered after standing back up and returning to his side. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

The Captain, still glaring at Nova, offered his hand to Adrian. “I wish you luck, Your Majesty. We’re always here for you if you need any help.” Nova scoffed at their last grab for power.

Adrian smiled, shaking his hand. “Thanks, but I’ve got more than enough help already.” He gestured to his friends, and Captain Chromium scowled, but stayed silent. The Council turned away, leading the rest of the Renegades out of the ruined cathedral and back towards the city.

Adrian turned to her, taking both her hands in his and pulling her away from the few people that remained.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern written all over his face.

“I think I’m as good as I can be, given the circumstances. They all hate me, Adrian. No matter what you say, they’re not going to be okay with me hanging around.”

“Who cares what they think,” He said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “As long as you’re with me, they can’t do anything.”

She nodded, still skeptical.

“Nova, I really like you. I want you to stay, and I will do anything to make sure that you are safe when you’re with me.” He kissed her forehead, his lips warm against her skin. “Please, Nova. Stay with me. Stay with us.” Adrian gestured to the rest of their team, who was watching them. Danna smiled at her and Ruby offered her a small wave. Oscar gave her a thumbs up and Nova gave them a small smile.

“We all want you here, Nova. Fuck what anyone else thinks. I want you here.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, oblivious to everything around her.

He pulled away after a few seconds, pressing his forehead against hers and looking at her so tenderly that Nova could have melted on the spot. “Please stay, Nova.”

“Okay,” she whispered. He smiled, and took her hand, leading her back to their friends. Danna grabbed her other hand, Ruby taking Danna’s hand, and Oscar taking Adrian’s other hand. They walked in a line out of the cathedral and back towards the city. Towards their new life.

Nova paused just outside the Cathedral. Her home for so long. She could hear the echoes of her life there. Laughing with Winston as he put on shows for her. Experimenting with Leroy, while Honey scoffed in the doorway, waiting for her to be done so that she could drag Nova off to teach her the proper ways of a young lady. Battle training with Ace. The long nights spent alone on the roof, watching the stars and dreaming of a different life. The life she would have had if not for the Renegades. She looked back, back towards her old room. She could have sworn that she saw a shadow in the window and a gleam of metal, but she ignored it. That was behind her.

She turned back, jogging a couple of steps to catch up with Adrian.

“Everything okay?” He asked, taking her hand again.

“Just saying goodbye,” She responded.

She didn’t look back.

#a beautiful nightmare #renegades #marswriting #nodrian #nova artino #adrian everhart #danna bell #ruby tucker #archenemies #fairytale au #supernova #renegades au #renegades fanfic

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dememarquette · 5 years ago

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Stockholm

It has been a rough year. Complete Hell, actually, but we made it. We're home. Home. 2018, where the leaves are turning red, cable can be paused, and our old record shop exhausted itself into extinction.

That's all I needed. After death, my standards dropped through the concrete. I found gratification in the mundane. I appreciated the small things. I enjoyed the understated conversations, the intimate ones, the quiet. Just- Any time absent of violence. Pain. When I didn't have to worry about the orders being screamed at us, or the anxiety living under the heel of someone much bigger and nastier. Was it a lot to ask? Generally, no. Following a thwarted attempt at societal collapse? Maybe. We made it back half a year ago. That was six months on the run. We were fugitives. 'War criminals.' We avoided trouble by bouncing back and forth from Hell, running missions, training, and staying on the move while ensuring Buné's new order- Point is, I've been exhausted. I leaned against our apartment. I lost track of what city we're in but when you're anarchists of the divine, it stopped mattering. I didn't want to think about it. I didn’t want to think at all. I let my world fall into serenity and I took peace in as cars passed. I felt the breeze on my skin, the procession of life outside the damned. There was normalcy in the city. I offered smiles to the pedestrians that walked by. I reminded them of a preacher, the charismatic one they used to watch every Thursday night. I obviously wasn't the same guy. I was a disheveled, sadder version, but some smiled back- Before a loud crash sent them running. "Son of a BITCH." Metal clanged against stone. One girl dropped her umbrella. She ran. Her rubber boots beat the pavement until she turned a corner, a block away. "Mother. Fucker. LIED." Adria kneed a recycling bin. "I should have known this would happen. It was too fucking easy." "Too easy...?" "No one gets promoted that quick! Doesn't MATTER if you do all his dirty work," The bin split. "Start an apocalypse," Glass shattered. Garbage blasted down the asphalt. "Beat the new guys in!" I had no idea what part of the last few months had been anything short of excruciating. I just knew better to argue. I picked up the discarded umbrella, shaking off the puddle. "Is it off the table, then?" I asked, spinning it. "Obviously not! I'm up here aren't I?" "Why, then?" She violently bucked her leg. A tenacious grocery bag that clung to her boot. "He wants another job! Another fucking errand before I can prove myself, get OFF! Stupid-!!" She dislodged it, but not without throwing out her calf. The cops would be here in fifteen minutes. In twenty, she would be destroying our wall instead. We weren’t getting that security deposit back. "I thought that's what Glenshollow was." I shuttered the umbrella's canopy closed. Peace was over. "Proving yourself." "Yeah well, it wasn't enough!" "'course it wasn't." It never would be. There was always more hoops, more grunt work. She punched a trash can into the street. It launched past me, aluminum warped. When her fist whipped back around, it specked the wall, corrosively leaving hissing black holes in the brick like the spray of a Tommy. "One more." She huffed. "Just- one more. He says I'm close." "When you're immortal everything is close. What if he never promotes you? What if he is a liar, like he's always been?" "Shut up." My brows furrowed. "Adria. What's the point in trusting him if-" "Shut up. This was the limit. I knew it. There was no reasoning with her. She glared, shoulders heaving with a finality saying I was a much more satisfying target than a garbage bin. I let it drop. I receded to the street in silence. Back against the wall, I stood at my post: Protecting the outside world from Adria. - - - The attack on Delgado yielded over 200 casualties. Months of preparation amounted to a twelve hour skirmish. Powers above squashed the epidemic in no time. It was an incursion controlled by dinner yet the effects rippled through the decades. History was made. It was covered up, then made again, but Buné never cared about petty tragedies and coverage above the surface. He cared about what happened after. It was a victory, not a failure. Overnight, his army doubled. They arrived onto his doorstep in droves. Marked. Branded by their wrath, the shambling husks were primed soldiers. Their consciousness’ were forever crippled into malleable potential Buné can use. Due to her stellar efforts, Adria earned respect, boons, and prestige. Just not the title. Her notoriety made her optimal for missions back in the present. He turned a blind eye to her angelic compatriot, and gave her a team. None of whom she cared for, but she thought maybe her parade of volatile dumbasses was a start to prime her for the big leagues. It wasn't. 'Lieutenant' was a bar being raised higher, and Adria's patience was burning out. Having a team didn't mean jackshit if she was still at the bottom. There was no repose to be had under someone else. While I also yearned for a delusionally quiet life- It just wasn't feasible. Details arrived the following morning. "What is this?" I wandered into the kitchen to find Adria pouring over blueprints. They were three feet by one thin drafts of paper, and full of intricate blocks with barely legible text. I'm by no means an architect or mechanic, but ‘boat’ was a safe bet. She was sitting there, nails knotted in her bangs, reviewing them like she had any idea of what they meant. "His assignment." "And this is what will supposedly get you promoted?" I said, skeptically. "It better." 'Or else what?' I wanted to ask. "And this is supposed to be harder than zombies?" "It's not supposed to be harder. It's finishing what we started." "How does that make sense?" I said, picking at another sheet. I didn't trust our 'team' to go get milk without fucking up, much less a heist? "I do what I'm told so I can get out of this shithole." While I intended to correct her on the ‘we’ situation, of that we could agree on. No matter how far this rabbit hole goes, I was sure there was something to be found at the end of it. Call me an opportunist. I hopped onto the counter. Tilting my head, I realized if you removed the claws, fangs, subterfuge, this felt familiar. I imagined a kitchen. Countertops crowded claustrophobically with congratulations and community love. A bare room that felt like bustling potential and a new lease on life rather than a pit stop. I scooched closer, crossing my legs to wedge between an imaginary dinette set and unpacked vacuum- She knew me by now. Too well. I could see it when her shoulders tense, her eyes snap to meet mine. ’Don’t-’ All that mattered was that her subconscious beat her to it. “So if you're promoted soon…” I rehearsed. “How are we going to celebrate?" Finding no room there, he crossed his legs instead. She was unpacking a mess. An obstacle course of bins, stacked impossibly high. There was no space except the marble. Adria had a hard time throwing anything vaguely sentimental out, and the collective town of Ashwater sent her off with enough supplies to stock a bunker. In lieu of helping (as he had invited himself over to do) he read over her acceptance letter to the Modena Police Academy three times over. He had the message memorized, and its creases too. The edges were folded from her happy dance, and the text smeared from her tears. How many Shakespearean ways could he recite it to her? How many ways could he decree her new title? The answer was a lot. But when that stopped being fun, he asked. "Soooo with this new promotion.” He slid closer. “How are we celebrating?" This came after a mandatory lunch. 5 box milestone. 15 minute break, then a ten. Finally dinner, and now a catch-all celebration. She looked up at him grinning, arms full of silverware. She was hopelessly behind, and would’ve had the place done at noon on her own, but what could she say? "How about we celebrate by...unpacking the kitchen?" "C'mon dep- oops." "Detective." “Detective Kyriakoulopoulos.” He waggled his brows. “It’s time to party! One does not become the most esteemed detective of the wild, formidable city of Modena every day.” "Not yet!" She swiped the letter. Before he could protest- talking with his hands, like he always did- she grabbed them, effectively silencing him. He was pulled to the floor, where his strategy switched. He hooked both arms around her waist, pulling her in. She’d weakly protest. "Come on,” She said, not fighting it. “I need to make it look like I got something done. My family is coming over tomorrow." "And they're going to be real disappointed if they don't have anything to unpack.” He grinned. “Think of Basil and Elyse, all bored. They want to help." “And you don’t?” "...Champagne?" When she came to I was off the counter. It'd been days since her last episode. Weeks. So few and far between, on days where she was kicking some guy’s teeth in, I worried they were gone for good. But she blinked. I held my breath for the fallout. Only she saw these memories, but I felt them. I lived in them every time her eyes went dark, when her lips twitched, and I knew she was following the subtitles. In those quiet moments where the pit of venom in her heart receded, Adria crawled back from her grave. Always in painfully brief snapshots, but she was there. These were the tick on her EKG, the surge in hope telling me she was still alive, under all the cruelty and malice. She didn’t receive them as well. She never did. They hit like a jackhammer. No matter how light, they weren’t her life, they were fake, and she didn’t give a shit about them. Getting as worked up as I did was a small betrayal but one I couldn’t resist. She hated me for it- But still. She was quick to tell me how useless I was when she didn’t oblige. How I would mope for weeks if she couldn’t recite this ‘stupid fantasy’ back. It was the only thing I had, despite promises I’d made to the contrary. We never said it, but we both knew. "What did you see?" I asked, breathless. She dug the heel of her palm into her eye socket, burrowing into it like she’d scrape it off her retinas. “No.” She growled, low. "Adria..." I begged. “NO, Demetrius.” She snatched the blueprints. “I don't have any time for this shit today! I have work to do." “Please.” "Mission. First. Are you going to come with me or not?" The answer was a given. - - - Under the cover of night, we hit the docks. I wasn't given the specifics. That wasn't to imply they did, because they didn't. Wrath demons maximized their shadiness. We never had any idea what we were walking into because Buné expected us to handle it- especially his aspiring lieutenants. There was no hand holding. We had a location, a number, and a time limit. Be a good soldier, and that's all there was to it. Adria corralled us to a neighboring container ship. The ship Buné marked- The Sandfly, an antiquated naval cruiser- bobbed beside us. We were to board, grab our shit, and leave. Casualties didn’t matter. Fifth didn’t care about getting dirty if you had something to show for it. Even so, sneaking past enemy lines didn’t mean a thing when there was friendly fire. She and her ‘team’ had been trading blows the whole way here. One lost a tooth, another revived an ancient blood feud, and a third tried for Adria’s head in a manner that was custom. He was promptly put down. "ENOUGH," Adria slammed him into a metal wall. Spines chipped on impact, and the wall buckled. It wasn’t the first time she cracked a bone on her own soldiers, and she never laid hands on them without leaving something to remember. His wound audibly sizzled and but it was so routine no one revelled in the example. "ALL of you are idiots, but if you want to live, get your shit together NOW. Buné does not care about you stupid peons, and I don’t even remember your names! Do you understand? You're fucking expendable." Three grumbled reluctant acceptance. The forth hissed from the ground. Her patience was thinner than mine. I stood idly by, impassive to the petty demon squabbles. They tended not to mess with me. Not seriously, anyways. They didn't care for me being here. I couldn’t escape errant comments but I never cared about hecklers. Adria abraded anyone who tried harder, and operating under her coriaceous wing meant I learned how to defend myself. Procedural power-grabs out of the way, we moved as a group to board. Those with the spare limbs to do so glided to the bridge with no problem. I needed the extra help- not without snide remarks but Adria shut them up with a heel through their feet. We convened on the other side, up to five injuries before mission start. "I go in first.” She debriefed after egos were bruised, and rebellious spirits squashed. “On my command you will join, one at a time! Any sooner I'll kick your ass back down to Hell. I want us in and out, no showboating. Understood?!" "Yes." They said. No one was ignorant of how important this mission was to her career. She told me on the way here she’d bury anyone who stood in the way. But I was the one interrupting this time. "No-" I said. "Wait." I held a hand to the wall. Nonsensically I felt comfort since boarding- and not because Adria held me by the waist to fly me over. I felt warmth. A metaphysical type. One that replaced the ever-present rotting in my chest I've come to associate with Adria (it’s an acquired taste, psychologists would claim). Whatever this ship was emitting- this cloying homesickness- couldn't be good. My disruption was met with the usual scorn. Special privileges meant I could speak out when others got a boot to the face. She took any input from me during these missions seriously. For reasons that were obvious- I didn't talk much otherwise. "What?" I moved my palm with the wave of energy. The feeling persisted down the entry hatch, and upward, as if part of the ventilation. “Let me go in first. I think it's a trap.” "Of course it's a trap. What else would it be?" The other demoness on our team spat. "Since when is your pet calling the shots?!" "He's going to get us killed." It wasn't unusual for members of her meathead party to be disgusted when I said anything. Perks of sleeping with the boss; I had seniority, even if it didn't align with their thug rules. One bland look and she threw out their objections. "Back off!” She snarled, slapping them behind her.“He's going first." "But-" "No arguing!!" I dipped inside. Their fragile hierarchy devolved into fighting. Stealth was never part of their operation but Adria had been in the game long enough to hold off all four. I padded down the corridor, unconcerned, and tracing the path. The ship was a relic of the past. The whole thing was corroded ceiling to floor, suffering a carmine splattering of rust. Stairs were welded grates, and the doors were embedded with port holes too scratched to see through. It was an asbestos goldmine but I wasn't looking for the ways it'd kill a person. Where the heat ended, the nauseating rot of corruption was back, even if I knew our team was far behind outside. Demons. "-Two of them are in." A radio transponder scratched. Sound feed bounced off the metallic halls. Luckily, I'd been quiet. "She's not." "What's she doing?" Said the room's inhabitant. "Standing guard?" I slid around the door frame. His back was to me. He flicked a lighter in his hand, reclined all the way back in a dubious office chair. On, and off went the flame, prompting me to look above. What I was feeling above was the sprinkler system- conveniently blocked in this room. As tempted as I was to trip a holy water shower, knowing she'd be safe, I knew better. "Yeah." Said the radio. "Seems like it." “She's not one to be a pussy.” "Well she is tonight!" "Maybe she needs encouragement.” He hunched over the command station. It wasn’t modern enough to be outfitted with anything more than ham radio and inscrutable dials. I approached from the behind. I wasn't armed. I never carried anything on me because I never came on these missions to do anything but protect Adria. Anything that could truly hurt her was beyond a pistol or rusty shank. “Shake down one of her lackies, make it real loud. She'll come running." "While you're in there and I'm out here?" The conspirator barked a laugh that crossed the feed like a spike in static. "Hell no. She isn’t known for her patience. Give her time." I wasn't going to. I gripped the back of his chair. Using all 150 pounds to my name, I tipped it. It's wheels spun out from under him. He crashed into the floor, the collision ringing out like gun fire. I took advantage of his momentary disorientation to stomp on his wrist. "What was that?" The disarmed radio chirped, fuzzy. "Was that them? Are they in?" It earned a good kick under the desk. Volume whirred as it spun, revolving on the tile, but safely dispatched. By the time I turned to him, he'd gotten to his feet and was bracing for me. Rigorous training meant I knew how- in theory- to respond to hand-to-hand combat. I was no natural. I didn't have the years of combat these guys did. I didn't have to fight my way out of a sewage pit to survive. I had the eye for one move at a time, not chains. I thoroughly leaned on what she taught me. Eye which foot was forward, recognize where he was putting his weight, while minding my own. So while I was able to lean away from the first hook he threw my way, that's where my advantage expired. The second his fist whirred through the air past me, his leg compensated for the dodge and lobbed the office chair into my knees. No matter the power behind it, in our cramped space with plush seating, that move was good for nothing except bruised knees. She taught me to be skeptical- so as I stumbled awkwardly back, my hands flew up to my face. He hopped the chair. Feinting for another hook, his opposite hand drove heavy punch to my gut. The small, obstacle-ridden area did not give him much of a charging period for momentum but he wasn’t exactly lanky or baby-soft. It hurt- God, it hurt- but pain meant a lot less when you could habitually heal faster than the damned. My block fell to latch onto his forearms. I grabbed him before I could go down. I was winded but he was wailing. I fired them up- I pumped wave after wave of bright energy into his forearms, clinging for dear life. Contrary to the way I set this fight up, I have nothing flashy. Months under her tutelage taught me none of her instinctual killer moves, technique, or style. Maybe for a lack of trying but this was it. My God-given and only finisher- it never failed me before. Why would I stop now? My ribs just stopped aching when he bucked. He took three solid jerks to try to rip my arms out my sockets. All failed when I kicked at knees, and hung off his arms like my next kick was going for his gut. It didn't- he'd drop me, and Adria swore that loss of balance is deadly. Instead I bowed and jumped, headbutting for his jaw. He tucked his head to protect his throat. I got his nose instead, but noted from pitch of the swear, I was doing a whole lot more damage from the arms. I seeked to remedy that. Before I could go for another, he dissolved the height difference and dropped. He twisted- twirling under my arms like a grade school dance. Just when my arms were at the apex (having never let go- his arms were gruesomely soggy in my grip) he jutted up. I arched across his back, then over his shoulder, into the air, and then on the floor. I crashed into the ground dazed, lifting my head just in time for his spined tail to pull a filing cabinet drawer into my temple. It was a miracle I stayed conscious. The collision whited out my vision. Pain lanced through my brain like an electric volt, my head humming. But I didn't need to see him when I could feel him. Those senses worked on another level. I blindly reached out. I found his leg, one hand after the other. Forgoing healing, I devoted every spare bit of Holy power into a lateral pull-up that caved his calf between my fingers. The splitting headache motivated me beyond precedent. His flesh squished, bowing with the pressure fingers exerted like memory foam that didn't bounce back. He collapsed. The muscle was rendered useless, and his cry was ear-shattering through the cellar, and the only thing that pierced the intense ringing in my skull. The lighter fell out of his opposite hand. I swatted that under the desk, too, to join the radio paging frantically for updates. They were right; she would come running when she heard us. I felt her now. "You were going to kill her." I pulled myself to a slouch, hand slipping on the rustle of papers and demon grease of my palms. “You were going to kill her.” He was emerging blearily through the spots in my vision. His hands hovered over his disabled calf, unable to tend to it after I shaped it into an apple core. "What do you care?” He half-cried. “For fuck's sakes, you're the fucking laughing stock of the whole circle. The bitch calls you her pet-" She did that in front of me. "She thinks you're wrapped around her finger!" And she does. Glow from my hands reached my elbows, reflecting in his inverted eyes like cataracts. "Remind me why you care about our relationship?” "Relationship? Is that what you call it?" His leg wobbled. While one arm reached for leverage, the other was after something in his back-pocket. "She's using you. She doesn't love you." She says that to keep up appearances. I followed him to his feet, unconcerned that my vision hadn't fully returned. This fight wouldn’t last much longer. "You were going to kill her." I repeated. "What happens when you fall, huh? What happens when this catches up to you and you aren't worth shit to her anymore? When she has no use for y-" My eyes flicked upward one second before her hand plunged through his neck. Knowing just the way to circumvent his spine, four fingers wiggled through the opposite end of his windpipe. Venom bubbled out his mouth before blood did. Poison seared canals through his lips. Chips of his eroded teeth landed in his lap. His body tipped. "What's with you and talking to them?" She snarled, irritated. She flicked excess onto his back. His final syllables gurgled into the tile, and my power guttered with it. "You were wasting time. You should have taken care of that!" "Sorry," I said, still. I got around to healing my temple, clearing up the humming. Just in case she had anything to refute about what she heard. She didn’t. "What's I say? No time for playing around. Let's go." - - - Shortly after taking care of the riffraff, we had the cargo. It was delivered back to Buné at once. Theoretically this was supposed to prove Adria was competent at not just societal overthrow, but leading too. I didn’t care enough to join that meeting back. I went straight home to cook dinner and mentally prepare for disappointment. When she returned, she slammed the door as per usual. I had dinner on the way, and was wrestling a can opener for dessert. She wasn’t immediately razing the town so it must’ve been good news, despite the firm set of her brow implying the contrary. “What’s the word?” I asked, confused. "My coronation is tomorrow." “...For lieutenant?”

Her promotions thus far have been unceremonious. ‘Now you don’t have to live in the mire,’ ‘Now we won’t beat the shit out of you,’ ‘Now you don’t have to work minimum wage to support a zombie apocalypse.’

"I didn't picture Buné to be one for fanfare." "Yup." "That's- that's great! Isn’t it?" "All that's left now is to get rid of everything holding me back." I frowned. She said it so cold. So sterile, and she hadn’t made eye-contact with me since she walked in. She just threw down her brass knuckles and kicked off her boots under the table.. "-Me?" She snorted. "No, not you." For the barest of seconds I felt relief. With the way fifth worked, that probably meant axing some a big cat, or turf-war over a street above ‘sea level.’ It concerned me as much as any of her new hobbies. But that relief turned to restlessness, and that restlessness to desperation now that we were both here, back in our quiet kitchen, absent of screaming and bloodshed. It was 2 AM and this time was traditionally ours. “What did you see?” I asked. “Earlier I mean.” She glared, snapping out of whatever she was daydreaming about. “You think you deserve that?” I didn’t respond. “You didn’t even take care of the scraps today. You acted like that guy was going to make you cry.” I looked back at her. Looking at her like this used to make her face fall. Back when she felt things like remorse or concern. This Adria held her ground, yielding only when dinner was going to burn. “Whatever. You can make it up to me tomorrow.” “For your coronation…?” “Yes.” She knew how I hated going to demon things. “It’s not going to be in Hell.” She elaborated, when it must’ve been apparent on my face. “Where then?” "Ashwater." I stopped, pot boiling behind me. "...What? How is that what’s holding you back? You want nothing to do with it." "Buné's orders. He wants to make sure. You coming or not?" "Of course.” I said, my conscious late to catch up. Funny how it deteriorates with disuse. “It’s not going to be a team thing, is it? “Nope. You and me. Just how you like it.” “Good.” - - - That night when she showered, I stole her phone. This was double suicide. She'd kill me if she found out, and she'd kill who I was talking to for good measure. If that happened she'd rot in Hell forever, and they would never have a chance. She'd never have a chance. I ducked outside, and shut the sliding glass door behind me. I cowered behind the curtains. Finding the number required an incognito tab. I punched the number through the cracked glass, and prayed for an answer. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon-" I beat against the balcony rail. It was several painful seconds of ringing, but at the third note, I had an answer. "Hello!" She answered, drowsy. "Ashwater Cottage, Margie speaking!" "Margie!" I cradled the phone with both hands. "I need you to pass on a message. Now." "Huh-?" Her sleepy customer service persona dropped. In the background, a Gilmore Girls rerun muted. "Who is this? I don't understand-" "Get the Kyriakoulopoulos' out of town. I don't care how you do it. I don't care where they go. But get them out of Ashwater. All of them." "What-?" "They are in danger," I swore, wishing she could see my face. I couldn't intone the right amount of peril. Not with Adria listening one thin motel wall away. "But they're in danger if you tell. Trust me on that." "Who is this-?" "It doesn't matter." "Deme...?" She faltered, in disbelief. "Deme? Is that you?" I squeezed my eyes shut. "Just do it. Please. It's their only chance. I don't care if Theo has a gun. It won't help, not against this. It will only make things harder. This is your only warning, for the love of God listen. You're the only one who can help. I trust you." "But, this is- I?" I hung up and blocked the number. - - - The following day we made the drive out to Ashwater. I rode backseat, arms wrapped around her waist. If I had to pick any aspect of our new life to love most, it was this. The very concept of a motorcycle was terror before immortality was in the equation, but this was a way to be close. I learned to love it: it was a way to hang onto her that felt organic. Nothing at all like the way she touched me now. It was a two-hour journey that breaked thirty minutes outside Ashwater. She'd nearly toppled the bike when she jumped off. I held it in place, as she hit up a gas station. She pulled two cans from the saddlebags, and kicked the machine until it caved. It spilled gasoline over her fingers in exchange for a crumpled twenty. "What's this?" "Preparation." I lifted the glass of my helmet. "Preparation?" "Buné says I can't commit without burning some bridges." "Literally, huh." Not necessarily a novel concept in our lives. "Sort of like the hideout?" Her head whipped to me- indignant, before letting it go. Cyrus was never on the discussion table. Any proximity to the subject was too close, but whatever was on her mind disarmed the usual backlash. It gave me a little hope that this is what he meant. Lord knows I'd be more than happy to burn down an elementary school if it meant I was wrong. “Help.” “On it.” Together we straddled four full tanks on the bike. But instead of the compound, our first stop was her old police building. Their town never needed more than two people. It was no surprise when there were no cruisers out front. Cameras were new but our faces were shielded by a thick plate of black plexiglass of our helmets. They wouldn't know how to explain what they saw if they saw it. Demetri and Adria were gunned down at the corner of Lancaster and Franklin. They had a monument in their honor, maybe some ghost stories, but they have been dead for years. Dave, too. She doused the front. She sprayed their unfunded equipment with gasoline.. We watched it burn from the tool shop across the street. Kitschy knick-knacks aside, tourism didn't change the town integrally. Ashwater was asleep by ten. The fire alarm blared, but no one was around for miles. Assistance in arson was no small sacrifice but it’d been gutted of Adria from the inside out. I wondered if she realized the irony of this- burning away a past she supposedly didn't remember. “Why does Buné care about the police station?” I asked, as the front buckled. Electrical equipment I helped fund popped, shooting sparks into the flames. She crossed her arms, staring into the flames. Her expession, unreadable. Adria was never a mystery when it came to her face- I was reading too much into it. There was just nothing there. “It’s not why he cares. It’s why I care.” “You care?” “Not anymore. Come on,” She said, kicking back into gear. “Next stop.” When we moved out to Modena, we didn't leave anything behind. I wondered if she remembered her house on the edge of the property. In her false timeline, it was never hers. She hit the road as a delinquent. In reality it was probably repurposed since her move. Perhaps sold, or given to Celia when she graduated. I wasn't volunteering its existence, and she seemed to ride past it without incident. My gut rolled as we pulled up to her parent's place, though. I was right- even though I was hoping we'd detour. I'd love to burn Cyrus' shit a second time, spit on his memory. I would be just as ecstatic as she was- But she stopped out front, kicking the stand, and parked. No cars lingered in the driveway. There was the daunting possibility Melina's van was in the garage but I needed, needed, to believe Margie worked her magic. "Stop, no." I followed at her heels. My charade broke after she marched up to it in grim determination. "This isn't necessary." "'Isn't necessary'?" She jerked the gas can at the house. Three years ago we enjoyed pie and coffee on the stairs. We listened to Celia's poetry where the gasoline splattered the wood. She was spitefully through, going as far as to break a window for further access. "Those people never cared." "Then why does it matter?" I arced around her as a bodyguard of the front door. "Fuck them. Fuck them all, let's just go. You think he’ll double check a small town in the middle of nowhere? " Tension was heightening. Something snapped. She pitched the empty gas can at the porch, breaking the glass inches from my face. I flinched "SEE? This is what I'm talking about!" She stabbed a finger into my ribs, knocking me back. "This bullshit is why I couldn't get promoted! It's you! It's fucking you! You haven't learned since Mark!" "Me? You said it wasn't-" "Yes, you! You and your stupid, insane sentimentality! This fake life you’re holding onto!" "How is it- NO" She struck a match. I snatched the end in my palm, snuffing it. "Don't." She slapped my hand, grabbed my arm. Bending it in a way it didn’t belong, she slammed me against the door. "What's your hold up, huh?! Spill it.” She threatened. “Give it up. I don’t give a shit about any of this- why do you!" I squirmed. How do I explain? It’s the one thing that’ll bring her back. It’s the last enduring piece of her life that’ll exorcise this monster she’s become. "They cared.” I kept my hands up, placating. "I know you don't want to hear it but they did. J-just go inside. Once. I can see it from the mantle-" I'd burn my whole arm if I had to, I'd throw myself into the fire to spare it. "You'll see the pictures- you don't even go that far ! The halls are covered, Adria. Covered. They have a shrine for you. Remember the school play-? Tree number four? That's how I knew about it." "I DON’T CARE what you think you know! That isn't a thing! It's not a fucking thing, Demetrius!" God, just look to to your left. In the window, where she was smiling. She was missing teeth in a family portrait from the 90's. “LOOK-” "No." Her grip loosened. She lit another, holding it outside of my range. Her nails narrowly clipping it together. "Y-you don't even have to!" My voice cracked. In a spark of courage, I pried her claws and jumped past her. I grabbed the knob. It was locked but that barely can be considered an obstacle compared to the Hell we'd been through. I'd break a window. I'd throw my shoulder out, I'd bust the door in. I'd rob their house, dragging every knickknack onto the lawn like a fucking yard sale to get one memory out of her. Her unhappy childhood wasn't real if there was photos of her playing the recorder at six. She wasn't dead if I could prove she tripped across the stage at her high school graduation, and she wasn't a thug if Melina had clippings framed every time she made the paper thereafter, a hero in their smalltown. "I'll find them for y-" "Don't even think it," she said, icy. "You don't have to come! I'll show you. Buné doesn't have to know-" "NO," She wrenched me inches from her face. "Walking through that door means you're attached to a fucking lie. Are you?" She shook me when I didn't respond. "Are you?! Are you wasting my time?" "No!" "She's dead. You said you understood that so prove it. Prove it, Demetrius." But why are you ignoring the truth? Aren’t you even curious? Don’t you want to see? The look in her eyes said it didn’t even matter. My fingers twitched on the handle. I knew I didn't care if she lit the building with me inside if it meant I had proof. A piece of our past. Hers was a family of love, encouragement, and support that created the most perfect being I knew, but this Adria didn't understand that. Her eyes were heartless and black through the tinted glass. She didn't care if anyone was inside. She didn't check. She’d be just as quick to dismiss cold hard proof as planted evidence of my delusions. Either that, or that Adria was never something she wanted to go back to. I swallowed and let go. My arm dropped to my side. "So." I said, numb. “What's the plan?" She knocked me aside. I stumbled to the other side of the porch. "We get rid of it. Just like the police station." "Great." I said, hollow. "Not so fast." She jammed a tank in my chest. I looked down at it. The acrid scent burned my eyes, even through the helmet. "What?" "This is a test for you." "I don't understand-" "You care a lot more than I do. Clearly." She started at me, cold and hard. I was one wrong answer from failing. “...Fine.” Without taking the time to acknowledge what I was doing, I shook the gasoline over the house. Thinking about it meant I’d see my Adria smiling back. In her uniform, at attention from the living room. My heart twisted. I dropped the light. It went up in minutes. Heat buffeted my face when I lifted my helmet. I hoped physics of some sort would spare the pictures in the frames, maybe a magnet on the fridge but in truth I wasn't looking at them right now. I staggered back to where she was sitting in the dirt. Legs crossed, she watched it burn. We answered everything with fire. It wasn't a stretch to want something out of this. The optimist, opportunist in me says it can't be a waste. I needed something. Anything. Anything that reassured me I didn't sever my own past in the process. I needed to know I wasn't throwing away all physical evidence. Everything that could bring her back. Her memories took shape in the stupidest things. Like a touch at the theater or stupid joke in the car. I pleaded for her to see something . But she watched on with no emotion. No bitterness, no remorse- Nothing. Perfectly blank. Perfectly alien. Her head tilted as we smelled the rubber dripping of Damon and Elyse's bikes, leaning against the side. I breathed in the ash of her destroyed home. I buried my head in my arms. shutting my eyes tight. There was numerous moves I could make here. So many callbacks to the formative flames that made us who we were- 'Fancy meeting you here.' 'Just like that?' Just any time we won. How we reacted with humor, conquest, and of course. Fire. But this wasn't the same. We stayed. We sat there until the roof crashed into the lawn. "Did you wanna know what I saw?" she said, after I'd gone quiet for too long. The smoke in the air was turning to a different scent. Chemical. I imagined this meant the kitchen was up in flames. with it, all of the kid's art, and Melina's recipes. "Yes," I answered, muted. She had removed her helmet. Her green eyes reflected the fire monstrously, until they adopted a brownish tint. Her braid- dark, but not black, fell across her back. Messy, but in the way I remembered it. My heart skipped- the first real thing i felt in a solid hour. "It was a small one." She said. "The first time you held my hand." I picked my head up from the grass, confused. That was not the set-up I used. I brought up her promotion. Usually prying was hopeless. She didn't delve deep into these things, as they were never her life, but I had to try. "Tell me about it." I said, quiet She watched the burning building, hugging her knees. For not remembering her old life, she sure was mimicking it. She looked softer as she tried to recall. But too soft- it was forced. "It was easy.” She said. “I just remember how easy it felt. Carefree." The first time I held her hand I was on a lot of morphine. We both survived a grievous monster attack. Carefree was a funny way to put it. I stayed quiet, before I noticed she wasn’t going to go on. "At...the hospital?" "Yes," she said, too keen. "At the hospital. And what happened after. What she said to you then." My eyes slid to hers, suspicion clawing. She must've known how hard it was to look at her. How much this felt like a continuum of her sick trial. "...The first time she accepted a date, to Jo's? Once we were both patched up?" "Yes." My breath hollowed within my chest. "Yeah." I said, dead. "We always were saying how she had the best coffee in town, didn't we?" "Yup." I buried my face in my hands and laid on the ground, wishing I could sink into the dirt. It took salt in the wound to realize this isn't who I was. I wasn't a man who lived in the past. There was always something new and exciting ahead. I thrived in the moment, and I planned five paces ahead, but this is where I've been months. Disjointed. A fraction of my former self, whittled down into core needs brought out of my by Adria. I am not who I should be and this wasn't who she should be. I needed to go. I needed to cut the dead weight and leave. Today was the last straw- that sick joke was it- She's not there anymore. She was gone. My Adria, the one who always knew what to do, my loving, compassionate, spitfire Adria- would be as disgusted by this monster as I am. And the monster I've become, chasing it. This house was a pyre. A testament to the last chance l had. Adria died in Mark’s basement but I was the one who took every last trace and cremated it. But if there was nothing left for me down here, why was I here? I was doing more harm than good. I could have left her memory in peace. I could have treasured that golden smile, those fond memories, and the way she got high of danger- not sadistically drunk off it. I could have mourned, at left her be in her prime. Instead, those memories were being replaced. They were overwrit by violence. How many times could I watch this Adria cave in a head, before I forget how she'd kiss mine? How many times can I watch her lose her temper, felling the world into destruction behind her before I forgot how she'd cry at pound commercials? How many times can I watch her callously disregard the innocent, before I started to forget how she'd stop at nothing to save them all? At what point is there nothing left of Adria, and I am just as complacent in her murder? The answer should have been never but it was already starting. I aided in the apocalypse. I accepted her deal. I torched her parent's house. I didn't know if she knew what I was thinking or if it was some twisted reward for playing by her rules but she leaned into my shoulder. Her lips were parted, enough to feel the heat of the threat without the intention. I looked to her mouth. Fangs she forgot to hide pressed against the bottom, the pitch black shine reflecting the flame before she licked away the venom. I wasn't looking at my Adria's face. I was staring at a choice: what felt nice versus what was right. But what felt right and what felt right didn't co-exist outside of us. It was learned- and she taught me that yet this year of living off scraps took it back. Without Adria I regressed to where I started: selfish man driven by whims. If I held onto nothing but the way she make me felt, I could have saved her. If I remembered how her embrace was rough, but tender I'd know this Adria was an imposter. If I had held onto nothing except the way she felt against me, I'd reject this monster that gripped me obsessively like a vice. But I didn't. In these long months I forgot it all. I couldn't bring myself to do without, because even a cheap imitation was something. And eventually- everything. I collapsed on the grass, dragged by her hold. She held me against her, rolling until her wings blocked out the firelight. Until the smell of Hell replaced the Melina's singed garden. Until the possessive traction of her lips made me forget I was kissing this demon on Adria's grave I was never going to leave.

#i was going to hate myself if i didnt do anything during qurantine #bitch!adria #bad end #took long enough ):#story

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anchanted-one · 5 years ago

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Eternal War Chapter 33 Horrors of War

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Hours later…

Kaliyo took a long sip from the bottle in her hands, then passed it to Kanner, who didn’t bother looking to Jorgan for permission before taking a swig herself. She tossed it to the gruff Cathar veteran, who caught it without looking. You knew it was bad when Soldiers like these broke protocol.

“So… pretty bad day…” Kaliyo drawled.

“Yep,” Jorgan said heavily.

He looked at the city beyond the building they were currently taking shelter in. A lot of it was on fire. When the Security Forces had failed to pick up their trail in the maintenance tunnels after hours of searching, an infuriated Arcann had ordered them to open fire on the sector. Even the civilians. The carnage had put a damper on even Kaliyo’s spirits.

“Did I thank you guys for coming back for me?”

“Nope.”

“Well then… thanks, Maje. Thanks Havoc. Really. I didn’t think you’d come back for someone like me. I’m… feeling quite touched here. Thanks.”

“We don’t leave anyone behind.” Jorgan said tonelessly. “The moment we were both on the same team, you became a comrade-in-arms. And you’re not the worst one we’re working with out of necessity, believe me. But so long as we are, we got your back.”

“Copy that, sir!” the cybernetically enhanced trooper, Dengril, approved fervently. “We there for each other. Separates us from them .”

“That bottle, sir…?” Xabaan asked. Jorgan quietly passed it to the Twi’lek. Once Xabaan was finished, Dengril took a drink, but of course it would be poisonous for the Kel Dor Abeth. Korg, like the rest of his Kaleesh people, only drank to victory or to the celebrated dead. Once he was done, Kaliyo was satisfied that so little of the booze was remaining. She emptied it in one go.

“So what’s the plan now?” She asked. “I normally use this kind of chaos to make my getaway, but for you guys…”

“If we turn up to help them,” Jorgan sighed. “It becomes worse. For them, for us. If we have to do anything for these guys, it has to be covert.”

“But you don’t want to leave.” It wasn’t a question.

“I signed up to stop this kind of thing.” Jorgan said, a tortured expression on his feline face. “Turning away… it feels wrong.”

Kaliyo remained silent. She was an unabashed anarchist. She was a survivor through and through, only ever looking out for herself. But once someone had her loyalty she would die a thousand times for them. As she would have for Cipher Nine. Well, her Cipher Nine, not the half-trained faker who took that title after Corellia.

They watched in silence as a group of citizens cleared some rubble away to free trapped survivors. They worked well together. Perhaps they had been given some rudimentary training in search and rescue? Hard to believe on this pampered world.

“Oh no!” Kanner muttered. “Sir!”

“I see it! Havoc, if those Skytroopers attack those civvies, we break cover and protect them.”

A chorus of “Roger that, sir,” all around them. Kaliyo wanted to shake him hard and remind him of his own words minutes ago. What happened to being covert? But there was just no convincing some people. She tensed, waiting for the order.

The Skytroopers swooped in on the civilians, and Jorgan called “Take em!”

He fired twice, nailing two Skytroopers mid-dive. His squad broke out of their hiding place and attacked the Droid soldiers with a surgeon’s precision. All twenty droids were scrap before they even knew what hit them.

The people they had saved screamed in shock. Several tripped and fell as they staggered back. They began whispering among themselves: “The Outlander’s people…” “The Outlander’s soldiers!” “The Outlander’s …” “They saved us!” “They saved us!”

“Alright, everybody, time to move—” “No, please, wait!”

Jorgan stopped as a trio of citizens stepped forward. These were among those who had been searching for survivors. “We are part of the local Resistance,” a middle-aged man explained. “We work for Caradha.”

“Caradha is that Zakuulan who called for an end to Arcann’s tyrannical reign, right?”

“The same, good Soldier.” The man confirmed. “She has been trying to stop this carnage, but her only plan was discarded because we have no professional soldiers among us.”

Oh? How perfect! Kaliyo grinned wide, a feral expression that was mirrored by Jorgan.

“Well sir, now you have Havoc Squad.”

Odessen, War Room

The Holoprojector chimed and the holo of an ageing dark-skinned human materialized.

“Alliance Base, this is Colonel Vakkes of the Onderon strike force.”

“This is Alliance Base,” Lana responded. “We read you Colonel.”

“We have finished scouring the Fortresses, and there was some horrifying stuff going on in there.”

Lana’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“A Research Lab, by some definition of the term. From what we can tell, they’re dedicated to ‘cutting-edge’ epidemiology experimentation. Hundreds of Onderon and Dxun’s fauna specimens. Dozens of sentients from all walks of life. Some of these guys have been missing for years. We assumed they were dead, but…” the veteran Soldier shivered visibly. “They’ve been used as test subjects. What logs we recovered describe how they were subject to numerous toxins and exotic diseases and kept under observation as their symptoms progressed. Some had organs removed while still alive. Shot repeatedly while hooked up to kolto tanks. It was like they wanted to see how many ways they could discover, of death by torture. Or how long they could endure before it became too much.”

Lana unclenched her jaw, and ran a hand through her hair. She looked around at her comrades; their expressions ranged from disgust to anger to horror. The Zakuulans among them were the most affected, Doctor Oggurobb looked outraged, probably more about the fact that someone would call such terrible methods “Science”. He had his many good points, but empathy wasn’t among them. Theron, like Lana herself, had already seen such setups—both Imperial and Republic—and both of them had braced for such atrocities. But to see them confirmed was something else entirely.

Lana looked at Theron, then Oggurobb. “We will need to alert all teams across the galaxy, have them look for labs immediately. Secure as much data as possible.” She looked back at the Colonel as something occurred to her. “Any survivors?”

“None, not even wildlife. From the looks of it, the scientists killed them before surrendering. They set charges on the computers, but the Ion Prison cloud deactivated the detonators. So even though there were no witnesses, we’ll know exactly what these psychos were up to when we decrypt these files.”

“Good.” Lana said. “Send over everything you can find for us to analyze. You and your people must be feeling quite disturbed by all this. Please get some rest. If you need therapy, we can have you brought here to Odessen. We have set up a well-equipped Mental Health facility for our people, and it should be enough to cope with at least a third of the Strike teams.”

“Appreciate the offer, Alliance Control. We’ll have our people undergo a thorough checkup, then let you know if we need your facilities.”

“Very well then, thank you Colonel. See you soon.” The holo flickered out.

“This— this isn’t Zakuul!” Koth looked like someone had ripped his heart out, Senya was in tears. All the Zakuulans were trembling. “I swear, this isn’t what we are...”

“We know,” Aygo said soothingly. “This isn’t on you. Just your Emperor.”

“But… such a horrifying turn of events!” Senya was stammering, barely coherent. “I can’t believe that this is what my children have become. That they have sanctioned such experiments despite what Valkorion did to Vaylin…”

“It is good we stopped the Fortresses,” Jettarn rumbled. “But we need to stop this. This is a stain on our people. It is suddenly more urgent that we—”

Wodar spoke up. “I’ll see about broadcasting that info across Zakuul. Once our people see it…”

“No, wait,” Theron said. “We need to know exactly what has happened, and who’s involved. I’ve seen Black ops like this, sometimes leadership doesn’t know. They may have drastically overstepped mission boundaries and Arcann might not know about it. It’s possible that this was an isolated incident. Or at least, a limited one.”

Lana nodded. “Yes, I think that’s best. We don’t want to saddle your people with guilty consciences if this was an unsanctioned operation.”

The Zakuulans looked relieved. Senya reached for a glass of water, then changed her mind and picked up the brandy instead. But Lem still had some venting he needed. Roaring loudly, he picked up a tool shelf and tossed it hard over his shoulder.

When the expected loud crash never came, they all turned to look in that direction.

Arro stood there, looking mildly annoyed. The shelf and everything that had spilled out of it hung suspended in the air in front of him. “I only just woke up, so go easy on me please? You don’t want me right back in bed, do you?”

The whole room stood frozen for a moment. Lana was stumped; how had she not sensed him wake up? Had she been so engrossed in operations?

It was Doctor Oggurobb’s delighted greeting broke the spell. “Commander! So good to see you awake again!”

“So much has happened?” Arro looked embarrassed. “How long was I out this time?”

“It’s only been a week,” Theron said. “Hey, given what you’re suffering we’re kinda asking too much of you.”

“In fact,” Senya said gently. “We were discussing taking more of the load off your shoulders so that you could rest. We can handle operations well enough by ourselves, there’s no need to burden you with even more stressors.”

“It’s enough that you be seen enough for morale to remain up,” Koth put in. “It’s your name and your legend that’s keeping everyone inspired.”

Arro bit into the sandwich he was holding. Taking his time to chew, he swallowed and placed it back in his plate. Something seemed different about him, but what? His stance? His bearing? The bright gold glint in his right eye, maybe?

“Before we discuss how aged and infirm I’ve become, I have a story of my own to tell you guys. You’re not going to believe the weird nonsense that can happen when you’re asleep.”

#star wars #swtor #Eternal War #Anchanted-one #OC: Arro #OC: Akahte #lana beniko #Koth Vortena #Theron Shan #Vaylin #senya tirall #Arcann

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emybain · 6 years ago

Note

I loved your after the second battle for gatlon fic, could you write something about what happened during the battle?

*smiles evilly, although im not sure how much i like how this turned out*

what happens after these events here

Gatlon was burning.

The city had been evacuated hours ago, in the early morning. An unknown source had notified the Renegades that the Anarchists were planning to attack. The Anarchists, who had successfully kidnapped Ace Anarchy just weeks prior, had disappeared. Nova McLain had disappeared around the same time as well, and the Renegades had searched and searched for her, returning empty handed every time. It was until a week after she disappeared that Danna showed up, a complete mess and very thin.

That was when they all learned the truth. That was when Adrian learned that Nova McLain was never a real person, that she was just a character created by the Anarchists and played out by his greatest enemy, Nightmare.

He felt betrayed. Lost. Angry.

She had stood with them when they had entered the city, stood by Ace Anarchy himself, head held high with pride. It was painful to look at. Because she still looked like her, but at the same time she didn’t.

Adrian had fought her, too, in headquarters when she had placed bombs around the building. She made the mistake in only defending herself instead of truly fighting him. Adrian was able to beat her within minutes and disable her bombs. He shuddered at the memory, at the way she had stared up at him with hatred and conflict, although the latter was most likely created by Adrian’s own hopes that it all wasn’t a lie, that at least it held some truth. When he had defeated her, he had contemplated, for a split second, killing her. Ridding the world of the cause of his miseries. But then something had crossed her face, naked of her mask, which had been thrown off by Adrian in their fight. Nova McLain, the girl he had thought he had fallen for, had returned. Her eyes had become soft, her hand had daringly reached up to wipe away blood from his cheek. But then Adrian had pulled back, very aware of what her bare hands could do, and Nova McLain was gone again.

“Kill me,” she had whispered, jaw set. “Get your revenge, Adrian.”

Adrian had started to correct her, that it was vengeance he sought and not revenge, but had thought better of it. He had thrown her gun down next to her face. “Killing you would be mercy.”

And then he had walked away, leaving behind the only girl he had developed true feelings for.

Adrian brought his mind back to the battlefield, his home. All around him, the city was in destruction. If it hadn’t been for the mystery message that morning, more people would’ve died. When the Anarchists had showed up, they had brought more allies than the Renegades had ever imagined them having. It didn’t help that there were multiple citizens who wanted to prove themselves worthy, prodigy or not, and remained in the city to support either the Renegades or Anarchists.

A scream made him whip his head around. Danna was thrown across the street by an Anarchist. Ruby and Oscar began fighting one of their buddies, although they were no match, despite it being two against one. Another one of the cronies, a woman with metal growing from her skin, approached Adrian with a nasty smile.

“Well, well, well,” she purred. A metal pike flew at Adrian, but he ducked just in time. “We’ve got ourselves quite the little prize here, don’t we? Ace Anarchy would love to see the son of his enemies dead, and he would reward me greatly for it.” She spoke with an accent, although Adrian couldn’t figure out from where, and frankly, he was more concerned with staying alive.

The woman reached her hand out. One of the crumbling buildings screeched, then the next second, a new weapon was in her hands. Adrian reached for his gun, although it wouldn’t be much help, not with his aim. There was his marker, but it wasn’t like the woman was going to wait patiently while he drew up a more useful weapon.

From behind him, Ruby cried out, and Oscar screamed her name.

“Any last words, Renegade?”

Adrian swallowed, deciding that the gun and his other powers would be enough. He could shoot fire from his hand. Surely he could beat the Anarchist with that!

“Justice will be served.”

The woman started for Adrian. His grip on the gun tightened, his hand started to heat up--

And the woman fell to the ground, knocked out. The fighting from behind him had ceased as well. Turning, he saw Danna’s attacker and the other Anarchists unconscious as well. He looked at his teammates, confused, but they were looking at something behind him, all frozen.

Adrian’s blood froze when he turned back around.

Standing on a pile of rubble, enraged and bloody, stood Nightmare. Nova Artino.

Her mask was still gone, so her hood hung behind her shoulders. Her hands were clenched at her sides, gun in one of them, as she stalked down toward them, avoiding eye contact. When she passed Adrian, who was still frozen, he caught a whiff of her. Sweat, blood, dirt, and underneath it all, funny enough, was perfume.

“The heart of the battle is headed this way,” she said, breaking Adrian and the rest of his team from their shock. She bent down beside the woman who had threatened Adrian, reaching out to check her pulse. “You all need to get out of here. Find somewhere safe.”

“What does it matter to you?” Ruby held a hand over her forearm, wincing every few seconds.

“Yeah,” Danna joined in, limping over to their group. Her posture was tired, clearly overexerted. “Come to gloat? Trap us all in jars?”

Nova stood back up, shoulders tense. Adrian then noticed how the sun gleamed off of her forehead. Was that...was that a circlet?

“I will if you don’t do as I say,” she replied coldly, but firm.

“And what if we don’t, huh? Nightmare?” Oscar leaned on his cane.

Nova fixed her gaze on him. “Then you will die. You don’t know the power of my uncle.”

“You don’t know the power of us,” Ruby snapped. Adrian had seen Ruby mad before, but this was the worst he had seen her, seeing as she was usually the perkiest person he knew.

From another street, yelling and gunshots and the sounds of fighting grew louder.

Nova closed her eyes, sighed. Opened them.

“I’m trying to help you.”

The battle was yet to be won.

The Renegades had closed in on the Anarchists finally, and as result, Ace Anarchy let loose his last line of defense: bombs. If he couldn’t win, then he would destroy Gatlon with him and any of his enemies.

The younger heroes were forced to leave the battle zone when the first bombs were set off, Adrian’s team included. But as more started going on off, the Council ordered all Renegades to take shelter.

That was when Nova disappeared.

When she had learned that her uncle was the one initiating the bombs, she had fled before Adrian could argue with her. Said something about being able to save him. Reason with him. Ruby tried to stop her, but she was shoved off. Higher up officials attempted to grab at her, but they all passed out if they were five feet away from her, as a result of the circlet on her head. No one else reached for her, either from fear of receiving the same fate as the officials, or because she was a traitor. They had learned that the circlet was the work of her father, David Artino, who had crafted the jewelry to enhance the wearer’s powers. When Adrian had inquired further about it, however, he was met with a scowl.

After the last of the bombs went off, the Council, healer prodigies, and anyone who was immune or could withstand the air and destruction went into the wreckage to search for survivors. Four buildings had collapsed in the process. The possibility of any survivors coming out was slim. One by one, Renegades returned. Most carried stretchers, sheets covering bodies. Only a handful came back with people who weren’t dead.

“What if she doesn’t come back,” Ruby murmured from beside Adrian. She was clutching Oscar’s arm. The four of them, Adrian, Ruby, Oscar, Danna, stood with the rest of the Renegades and Anarchists alike who had survived the battle. No one had expected Ace Anarchy to attempt such a feat, to kill even his own followers to prevent the Renegades from winning. But they did win, at a price. The remaining Anarchists surrendered, but Gatlon was in flames. “What if she’s...you know.”

Adrian’s jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“Adrian, be realistic-” Danna started, but one look from Adrian quieted her. His eyes returned to the scene before him, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her. Despite everything she had done, despite his anger and hurt, he wanted her to walk out alive. He wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive her, but she still deserved to live.

One by one, the Council returned emptied handed. Ace Anarchy and his main supporters were pronounced dead, as no bodies were found. But Captain Chromium had stayed behind to prove it, to find bodies. The last time they hadn’t checked to make sure their enemies were really dead, things hadn’t ended well. The same mistake wouldn’t be made again.

Simon approached their group, displaying obvious physical and emotional exhaustion, his suit caked in the earth and dust from the building collapses. Without saying anything, he pulled Adrian into a tight hug. Adrian clung to his dad. It had been years since either of his dads had embraced him like this, not since he was a child who had frequent nightmares. Adrian was much taller than he was before, towering over Simon. He let a tear fall as Simon pulled back.

His dad hugged the rest of their team, asking where and how they were injured. Ruby had been stabbed in the arm, Oscar had scratches and bruises, Danna had a few broken fingers and skinned knees from when she was thrown. Their team was luckier than most.

Adrian tensed as he finally saw Hugh, the last to return. Everyone held their breath watching him. There was something, no, someone, in his arms.

“Great skies,” Danna breathed, jaw dropping.

Adrian momentarily forgot how to function. He lost eyesight for a second. His heart stopped.

Captain Chromium pushed his way through the debris, calling out for a healer and a stretcher. His eyes passed over Adrian and his team, and he grimaced. In his arms was Nova Artino, Anarchist, Renegade, Traitor. From afar, it looked as though she were dead, hanging limp in Hugh’s tight grip. His arms were covered in blood, no doubt hers. Her normally tan skin was a sickly white-green, illuminated only by the rosey circlet that glowed on her forehead. There were cuts along her cheeks, red welts peppered her neck, which hung back. But surely, surely since he had called for a healer, she was still alive. Just unconscious. She was laid on a stretcher that was brought to Hugh. Adrian dared to take a step closer, if only to get a better view of her. The healer cut open her shirt, revealing so, so much red. Adrian paled. Another healer was called to help, and she was wheeled off to where they were keeping the rest of the heavily injured. She was gone.

Behind him, a sob tore through Ruby. Adrian heard Oscar make small shushing sounds. Her cries became muffled. He could imagine them, Oscar rubbing circles on her back as she buried her face in his shoulder.

Danna stepped up beside Adrian. If she was distressed or in pain, she hid it well. Adrian wasn’t as good. She pursed her lips, surveying his broken face, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Eventually, they learned that Ace Anarchy and the main Anarchists were in fact dead, killed by the explosions set off by Ace. The Renegades had won, finally. But as Adrian looked around at Gatlon, his home, at his friends, at the temporary tent set up for the injured where Nova was being held, hopefully being saved, he wondered just how much they had sacrificed. And how much their victory meant that things would go back to normal, back to the Renegades dominating the city and the world, back to a world controlled by the Council.

Adrian wondered just how successful their victory was.

Bonus scene that i wanted to add in but it just didn't fit anywhere so here:

Their team ducked behind a turned over car, kneeling on the ground. A group of confident Anarchists had ran into them, and upon seeing Nova, were determined to kill her and, according to their taunting, planned to do enough damage to her body after she was dead that she would be unrecognizable. And Adrian was putting it in kind words.

“So, Nova,” Oscar peered at her. She flicked her eyes at him, but returned her gaze to their situation immediately, not answering. “What’s with the whole,” he waved a hand around his head, “viking princess thing? Did you rob a cosplaying shop before this?”

Nova peeked out from behind their barrier, only to immediately jolt her head back behind the car as a gunshot rang out. She let out a line of expletives that Adrian would rather not repeat. “My father made it,” she grunted, whipping her gun out from behind the car and shooting.

“Cool, cool.” Oscar nodded. “Does it do anything? Or do you just like to wear it? Because don’t get me wrong, you look like some badass chick from a group of warrior women, but I don’t really know if this is the right time or place to be displaying how cool your dad was.”

“They’re gaining on us,” Danna warned. She had a broken mirror from the car in her hands, using it to watch the Anarchists behind them.

“Well aware.” Nova cried out and clutched her arm. Her hand came away red. She wiped it on her pants. Grazed by a bullet. “Any ideas on how we can get out of here?”

“I can use my powers,” Adrian said, although he already knew how they would react. Immediately, as expected, they started protesting. His identity as the Sentinel could not be revealed to the Anarchists or the Renegades. Even in battle, it was too risky.

“You never answered my question from earlier, Nova.” Oscar clicked his tongue.

Nova rolled her eyes. “Shut the hell up and mind your own damn business, Silva.”

“But-”

Nova gave him the finger, not even looking in his direction.

Despite their situation, Adrian’s mouth twitched.

#renegades #archenemies #archenemies spoilers #nova artino #adrian everhart #nodrian #danna bell #oscar silva #ruby tucker #my writing #asks

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