#they make the fungus uncomfortable using light (I think) and that’s what makes it react and trigger the little robot legs

[thefirstpaleontologist]

c reature.

Fuck yeah they gave it a mech

[cdroloisms]

I really love when people write about c!wilbur manipulating c!dream so I was wondering if you could write on about the smp realizing that c!wilbur manipulated c!dream into being a lap dog for him but a hell lot of trouble for then and if you could add c!wilbur taking advantage of the fact that dream is a god during a fight that would make my day. Hope you have a great day.thank you. Love your work.

ooh yeah - c!wilbur is back and GGG-ing as good as ever, , which Really makes you think abt what it’s gonna be like when he interacts with c!dream again. this ended up being a little more c!sapnap centric than i intended, hope that’s alright haha. (and thank you so much for the kind words!) 

tw: implied abuse, torture, drowning, dismemberment, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sapnap critical? not really?, dark portrayal of c!wilbur (typical MAD duo shenanigans)

Sapnap isn’t expecting to find anyone when he storms out in the middle of the night - he’s tense, they all are after the fiasco at the prison, but really his thoughts are filled with Karl once again going inexplicably radio silent for days on end and Quackity ignoring all of his questions with a simple “i’m busy” that he’d failed to follow up even twelve hours later, so Dream and Wilbur and whatever the hell happened that left Pandora’s Vault - obsidian, indestructible, tall and dark and proud - half-crumbled and sunken into the sea are just about the last things on his mind.  

Even so, he’s not an idiot, so he had enough foresight to pack a few potions and gather his armor and weapons before stepping into the summer night - it’s cool under the moonlight, a soft breeze cutting through the otherwise stifling weight of the humid air, and the comfortable night is enough to make his anger die down, just a little. Kinoko Kingdom glows soft and warm from the lanterns Foolish had scattered all over the place, thick with the earthy smell of fungus and flowers, and he takes a deep breath before walking to the city outskirts to hopefully clear his mind.

He’s no stranger to late-night walks; his temper had always been fiery, even as a child, and he’d figured out pretty early on that the easiest way to deal with it was to walk or run until his brain was too tired to think anymore. Walking at night also meant he could take out some of his frustration on mobs as well as the satisfaction of setting a random patch of forest on fire without worrying about burning down someone else’s property, and once he got good enough with a sword and shield to come and go relatively unscathed, Bad had stopped his worrying enough to let him do whatever as long as he came back in time in the morning. Sapnap frowns as he hacks at a random branch in his way with an axe, watching as it falls in a spray of leaves and crashes to the ground; he hasn’t seen Bad in a while, not since he became obsessed with the whole Egg thing. Quackity had mentioned some cryptic things, and Karl was adamant that they avoid the Egg as much as possible, but he probably should’ve at least visited, or something. Bad always knew what to say when it came to messy things like this.

Though - Sapnap laughs wryly - it’d never been this bad, before. Karl distant and absent, Q somehow even more so with a new glint to his gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. George, usually asleep, never around, expression perpetually foggy like he doesn’t know where he was. Dream- evil, insane, awful, somehow so familiar it hurt and too much of a stranger to recognize. He wonders when it all got this bad. He wonders what it says about himself, that he didn’t notice until it was far too late.

“Fancy seeing you out here.”

Sapnap whirls around, sword drawn; the figure staring back at him doesn’t even flinch. His eyes narrow at the sight, stance widening, shoulders tense.

“Wilbur?” He keeps his voice wary, guarded, trying his best to keep surprise from coloring his tone. Wilbur grins at him, tight-lipped, the planes of his face faintly lit by the moon shining over them, facial features only barely visible in the dim light. Without really meaning to, Sapnap cranes his head to look around at the surrounding forest, but nothing moves or makes itself known outside of the figure still staring at him, smirking. “What- what are you doing here?”

And where’s Dream?

Because Sapnap might not know much about what went down at the prison and what Dream’s plans are and the whole mess that he’d been so desperate to put behind him and utterly failed at doing so, but what he does know is that the two of them - Dream and Wilbur, Wilbur and Dream - had been all but inseparable, strangely attached to each other in a way that spelled out nothing but trouble for the rest of them. The rest of the server had been compiling sightings of the two in the hopes of being able to stop whatever it was that they had planned, but Sapnap knows his former friend, brother, and even if he doesn’t know Wilbur, his reputation more than precedes him: the two of them are smart, not to mention paranoid as fuck, and the rest of them have a better shot shooting targets in the dark than figuring out whatever the hell was going on in their heads with the two of them working together. Either way, he knows that they’d never been sighted apart - it was always Wilbur standing on a hill with Dream sitting next to him, or Dream hacking through mobs as Wilbur followed, or the two of them stepping into a fortress and leaving minutes after - until now.

“Could ask the same of you,” Wilbur laughs, just a shade to the left of friendly, and the moonlight scatters through the leaves and glints off his glasses. “Don’t be so tense, man! I’m just going on a walk, thought I’d enjoy the night. Didn’t see anything like this in Limbo, you know.”

Sapnap winces at the reminder, that Wilbur is here and alive in defiance of law and reason and the universe itself, but Wilbur barrels on, seeming unaware of his unease.

“Anyway - how are you doing, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He leans back, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stance loose, relaxed. “I’d ask Dream, but he’s been in prison for a bit, you know? Most of what he knows is pretty - ah, outdated, not that I tell him that.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap snaps, grip tightening around the handle of his sword. ���You and Dream. What do you want?”

“Who’s to say we want anything?” Wilbur seems to grin wider, and the expression on his face is unsettling, makes something cold slither up his spine. He shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling, half-wishing it was brighter so he could better see the other’s eyes.

“I mean-�� he stutters. Because Dream always wants, he almost says, bitter and angry, that all-too-familar swell of betrayal rising in his chest at Dream, forever insatiated, forever wanting, forever looking for more more more. Because if he were to escape, and if he were to want nothing, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Because if he didn’t want, if he wasn’t left wanting, then did Sapnap ever mean anything at all? The thoughts stick to his skull like tar, words clinging to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. Wilbur seems to stare at him, unimpressed, and he feels his face go hot.

“He’s not- he’s dangerous, you know,” Sapnap says instead of answering, because untangling the awful, knotted feelings that make up his remaining ties with Dream, half-frayed and neglected and forgotten, is more work than he can handle and more emotions than he has the energy to bear. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because Dream is still dangerous; he knows that, resolutely, and maybe it’s lucky, that he found Wilbur without Dream whispering plans and manipulations and meaningless words by his side. It’ll give him a chance to warn Wilbur, bring him back to their side instead of risking his life (again) in the company of his friend-turned-tyrant. Dream is dangerous, whether he wants or not, because Dream is Dream and he’s been in too many manhunts to face him with anything less than one hundred percent confidence. “You don’t want to be with him, Wilbur. He’s hurt- so many people.”

Wilbur’s expression doesn’t change, seeming as indifferent to the words as ever; if anything, he looks a little amused. “Really,” he hums, almost to himself. “Dangerous, you say?”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap insists, because it’s the truth, and it’s the simplicity of it, really. It’s Dream, and Dream is dangerous whether he’s on your side or not, forever ruthless and unheeding as long as he gets what he wants. He’d been in Wilbur’s place, once, convinced that Dream’s strategies and planning and infallible logic had meant they had no way of losing. He knows better, now. “You’ve fought him before! He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything.”

And if the words are a little more bitter than they should be when he says that, who but he is going to notice?

Wilbur’s eyes stay on his, completely silent, expression unreadable. The quiet gets awkward quickly, Wilbur’s expression seeming unchanging, nothing but the faint rustling of the leaves around them to break the stillness of the air, and Sapnap feels his gut roll uncomfortably as he looks off to the ground, waiting for Wilbur to react in some way, any way. It’s hard, he knows, to realize that someone you thought was on your side had been using you the entire time, he’s been there before and he gets it, but- it’s still strange, how still Wilbur has become. How he still hasn’t reacted - is his expression going to change?

And suddenly, starting quiet and then swelling in volume, Wilbur begins to laugh.

“Goodness,” Wilbur drawls through his chuckles, voice low and dark and sending chills down his back. “I thought he was exaggerating, man - you really do hate him, don’t you?”

“What- what’s so funny?”

Wilbur smiles, teeth flashing white as the faint light from the moon bounces off of them, “I have to give you my thanks, truly. I’d thought that Quackity did the most of it, or Sam, but you- I really couldn’t have guessed.”

Sapnap’s head is spinning. Wilbur’s expression is positively gleeful, eyes dancing, smile wide and brilliant, bouncing from one name to another with little explanation to how any of them tie together. Sam? Quackity? Nothing is making sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh Sapnap,” Wilbur croons. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He twists his hand in a flippant gesture, eyes directed into the forest surrounding them.

“Let’s just say that his, ah- stay, in Pandora, wasn’t exactly what I’d call a five-star experience. But you know that, don’t you?” Wilbur directs a flat smile his way, and Sapnap swallows, throat dry. Briefly, images flash behind his eyes - walls, dripping with crying obsidian, the lava’s heat hard to bear at his back, even for him, mining fatigue pulling at his limbs and making them heavy. How startlingly bare the cell had been, even through the haze of his anger, Dream, slumped in a corner of the cell, barely moving, barely even breathing as it seemed sometimes, sunken-in cheeks and sagging shoulders speaking of nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion. “Apparently, being psychologically and physically tortured for months on end has an interesting effect on the human psyche. Even more so when, say, your best friend comes once in the entire time to tell you that he’ll kill you if you ever try to escape.”

“How-” he trips on his own words, lungs seizing, “how do you know that?”

“He tells me things. A lot of things, really. Did you know it takes one and a half regen potions to reattach an arm after it’s been cut off? It takes three and a half for a leg, he thinks, but the blood loss made it rather hard to remember.” Wilbur steps forward. “Did you know that scars created by healing potions tend to be much thicker and more prominent than those made by regens? Or that he can hold his breath for a little more than two minutes before passing out?” Wilbur smirks, jagged, threatening. “Did you know that I can tell him just about everything, and he’ll believe me because there’s no one else to tell him otherwise?”

“Wh- what?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him what you said; I’m sure he’ll love to hear how his brother is doing.” Wilbur waves. “And when you see Quackity, be sure to give him my thanks, will you?”

“Wilbur, what- come back-”

And with a flash of purple particles, Wilbur disappears, leaving Sapnap alone in the middle of the forest. Stasis chamber. His heart pounds in his ears, breathing all-too-loud, and he stares desperately at the empty space where Wilbur had stood like it’ll bring him back again.

Fuck, he swipes his hand across his face, startled when it comes back wet. What does he do now?

[egoiistas]

Last of Us

affectionately titled: fungus among us – for Rilie. 

A/N: Last Sunday I sat down and wrote 3600 words of this Last of Us AU. It’s a companion fic to @wrongnote‘s Edween fic Forsaken! Also, playing the game is not necessary to reading this fic. 

I really couldn’t pass up some Parental Royai for Ed. 

Warnings~ Major Character Death. Expect zombies and the usual gore that comes with that.  Rated: M || Words: 3,703

Roy breathed in, opening his eyes to the dark of the room. It had been light when he shut them. Remnants of a dream clung to the edges of his mind before he gathered full lucidity. Something bright. Something vibrant.

Groaning, he lifted himself to a sit.

“You mumble in your sleep, you know.” Edward sat against the wall, knees propping up his arms.

He ignored the kid. What a mess, Roy thought with a run of his hand down his face. The entire day had been a mess. Riza’s run in with Hakuro’s men. Confronting Hakuro himself.  He rubbed his neck from the uncomfortable and moldy couch. And now this, Izumi having the audacity to ask him to smuggle the kid out to the Capitol building. Not impossible, but he had better ideas of how to spend his time that were less dangerous and more practical. There were too many variables and Roy had enough experience to not trust jobs that involved high risks with the scars to prove them. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple of hours.” The boy stood, stretching upwards and crossing his arms. “When will we get to leave?”

Roy glared at him. He opened his mouth to speak but the door opened and Riza entered in a hurry.

“You ready to go?”

Roy stood, grabbing his backpack by the straps. “Did she have the guns?”

She nodded and canted her hips to the side, her hands situated on them like she did when her patience was beginning to chip. “Yes, plenty of it.”

“How’s Izumi?” Edward came up close. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s fine. They were ready to patch up Queen Firefly as soon as she got there,” Riza muttered. “We’ve got rain, so try not to stumble this time.”

He fought the urge to smile – she would never let that go. “Shut up and help me move this,” he deadpanned.

The tunnels under the wall was short. They smelled of stagnant water that splashed at their and death from the unlucky, decaying bodies.

“You must be the kid of someone really important for all this trouble to get you out of here.” He heard Riza start up, quite unlike her.

“Something like that.”

When they finally emerged on the other side, he felt that he could breathe again, but the electricity in the air put him on edge.

They clambered over the incline of a decayed bus to exit at the other end.

He was stopped abruptly when military officers ambushed them.

“On your knees, hands on your head.”

Fuck.

“Getting real tired of this.”

“We’ve got a few stragglers approximately 2 miles southeast of the Fotest Gate.”

“If you look away, we can make this worth your while,” Riza suggested. It wouldn’t be the first time they would encounter crooked officers.

Unfortunately for them, the helmeted officer kicked the bottom of her boots and ordered her to shut up.

“Clean.”

The radio spoke back. “Copy that. Sending backup your way.”

It scanned him. It beeped. “Clean.”

“Honestly,  I don’t understand why-”

The male officer stopped abruptly as he crumbled to the floor. He held his leg. “What the fuck!” Roy reacted out the years where it came down to his life or theirs. And he always chose his. He drew out his pistol and shot cleanly at the officer’s head and the second shot, fired by Riza, downed the other officer.

“Oh - Holy shit.” The blond exclaimed, kicking his feet back on the ground until he hit something solid behind him. “I-I-I just thought we were going to knock them out or something. I didn’t know we were going to take them out!”

Riza laughed. At first, Roy thought it was because of the boy’s naivete. He realized soon enough she was staring at the scanner. She walked over briskly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Tell me why the fuck we are smuggling an infected kid?” She pushed it into his hands.

The rain kept falling on the screen of the scanner faster than he could wipe it. The words “INFECTED”, however, blinked red and clear. Roy scowled, walking over to the boy.

“I can explain!”

He turned to Riza. “Why would Izumi set us up?”

Before she could answer, the boy interjected. “She’s not trying to set you up! What reason would she have to do that?” Edward pulled back his sleeve; his arm indented by two crescent shaped disfigurations. Bite marks, he realized, made by an animal  or, more likely, an infected human. The skin grotesquely bubbled around it.

“I don’t care how you got infected,” Roy growled.

“It’s three weeks old.”

“Everyone knows the Cordyceps incubate in less than two days,” Riza stepped in.

“It’s three weeks!” His eyebrows narrowed angrily,  jaw clenched with tenacity. He repeated, “Why would she set you up?”

“Maybe we should take him back,” Riza leaned in to tell him. “Let him be Izumi’s problem.”

Roy glanced at Riza and then back to the kid. “What was the plan? Who’s waiting at the Capitol building?”

Edward stood, sliding his sleeve over the mark. “Izumi thinks that a cure can be created. They have other bases out near the borders. But she needs me to make it there.”

Roy scoffed, “We’ve heard this before. Always the same thing. Always near the cure. Guess what. It’s been fifteen years and in those fifteen years, nothing has happened.”  

“Look, I didn’t ask for this all right!”

“Whatever we do we have to decide quick. They have back up coming – now.”

As soon as she finished, the strobes of lights appeared overhead and the ground rumbled with the approaching vehicles. “Get down,” Roy whispered. He gestured towards a nature made tunnel where the ground had broke upwards. They hid in the shadows, creeping from one dark spot to another. He felt his muscles freeze when Edward almost stepped out and straight into the light’s path. Riza swiftly reeled him back by his shoulders.

The units made a commotion when they found the bodies. It gave them ample time to sneak past the dilapidated buildings, crumbling from years of neglect and waste.

The rain finally stopped. The horizon fanned out with the decayed cityscape of Central.

“At least we made it downtown,” Riza sighed.

“This is downtown?”

“Well, it used to be before the armies decided to napalm the place.” She hopped down to a slab of concrete, extending her hand to help the kid down. “Trying to take out the most of the infected the best they could,” came her afterthought response.

In the valley between toppled skyscrapers, Roy heard a chilling growl. “That sounded close,” he grumbled. “Keep close. We’ll have to go through these buildings to get across.”

One of the skyscrapers had been knocked off its foundation and leaned against another. Using a broken window, they entered through the unstable building. He kept his ears open and alert knowing they wouldn’t be alone. Climbing several stairs, they reached the floor that would lead them to their exit.

They walked through what was once a financial analyst company. Desks had been slid against the wall with the incline, but decoration and mementos had been left behind, untouched for this long. Picture frames, papers, calendars. All still here.

Roy groaned when he realized their only way through was blocked by debris from the crumbling walls. He saw a jutting piece of steel girder and tested it with his weight. Sure enough, the rubble opened up an entryway large enough for them to crouch through. “Come on,” he instructed, feeling himself go red from the exertion. He watched as Edward crossed, followed by Riza. As he was about to find a way for himself, the weight of the building proved to be more than Roy could handle. Tiny pebbles fell rapidly now until the ceiling rumbled from the inadequate support. Large slabs of concrete shifted, caving the pathway in.

Ed coughed out the dust that had irritated his windpipe. The rubble from the wall blocked the doorway and left Roy on the other side of it. He heard Riza stir behind him, coughing as well. She scrambled to her feet and rushed over to where the wall had caved in. “Roy!”

“I’m okay,” he said hoarsely.

He watched the woman struggle with the debris and he rushed over to help her.

“I’ll see if there’s a way to get a pathway cleared,” Roy told her.

Then he heard it. In the dark behind him. Somewhere just a few rooms over. The clicking sound the rattled his bones. The horrible trill of assured death.

“You need to run,” Roy suddenly warned, his voice dipping low and dangerous.

“But-”

“Run!”

Riza grabbed him by the arm and hauled him, quickly pushing him forward to run in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder. The sight of Riza running behind him was a comfort, but a clicker jerkingly shambled into the office room they had just been in. Its head, or what was left of it, snapped towards them – attracted by the sounds of their heavy footsteps.

He reached the end of the corridor and skidded to a halt on his feet. A runner had intercepted him, grabbing him by the shoulders until a gunshot rang in his ears. The grip loosened and Riza grabbed his hand to run in tandem with her. Their careless footsteps and the gunshot had attracted more clickers out of office rooms.

All this time in military school and he had never felt so winded.

They finally managed to find a desk to hide behind and Riza brought her forefinger over lips, instructing to not make a sound. He closed his eyes, trying to calm the quick beating of his heart; to slow down his breathing. That breath remained in his lungs as he held it there with the approaching noise. Slow clicks by an unagitated clicker. He bit his cheek and Riza squeezed his hand. It sounded like it stumbled forward, increasing speed in its clicks.

He breathed out slowly. He knew very little about Clickers; only that they were a result of years and years of infection. The Cordyceps mutated and overtook their faces until it was just a big mouth. They were deformed and ugly bastards, encasing different shades of egg yolk yellow and red from the fungus sprouting over their eyes. He knew they made up for the loss of sight by using their clicking noise as a form of sonar radar; that’s why Riza urged him to be still.

The thing retreated and he noticed Riza’s chest begin to move normally again as if she was holding her breath too. She peered over the desk quietly and gestured him with her hand to move. She flattened her hands, signaling him to lay low. He thought himself pretty clever for picking up on that.

The pair walked around the corner of the room. He’d only now just noticed the giant floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city and beyond that, he could see the lights from Central’s walls.

When they finally got enough distance between the infected, Riza straightened herself, but each of her movements were still calculated. “We need to get to the other side – quick.”

“Don’t we need to find Roy?”

She grunted dismissively. “He can manage. You just worry about keeping close and not getting yourself killed.”

He eyed her suspiciously as he walked a few paces behind her. One minute she was trying to move the earth for him and the next she basically abandoned him. Ed wasn’t the type to leave his curiosities alone. “But you were worrying about him before – you’re just gonna leave him?”

She turned quickly on her heel, bent over to his level, and roughly gripped his shoulder. “I’m fine defending myself, as is he.” She straightened. “But I have more cargo than he does at the moment and that increases my chances of getting killed.”

Ed’s brow flattened. He hated being referred to as cargo or anything equivalent to dead weight. “Gimme a pistol. I can defend myself!”

“Lower your voice,” she hissed. “Your drop off location is far off from here, we just need to–”

She was cut off by a runner who steamrolled her into some cafeteria area. “Oh shit!” He looked around frantically for some kind of blunt object he could use and saw a fire extinguisher a little ways down the dark room. He rushed over, hearing the sound of teeth clacking together as  it tried to bite her. Ed broke the glass with his foot, something he would feel cool about later, and got the extinguisher out of his cradle. He darted back but  had to stop himself from impaling Roy as he entered and whacked the assaulting infected with a bat.

Riza breathed. “Thanks,” she said, clasping Roy’s hand to stand.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

The older man turned to Ed, “And you?”

He released a breath too and gave him a thumbs up as he put down the extinguisher on a table. “Just peachy.”

“Then let’s move,” Riza ordered.  

Handling the exit of the building was an easier feat with both of them and it was obvious. He noticed they clearly worked as a team before. Infected still crossed their paths, but they had dealt with them expertly and professionally. He was still unsure of what exactly they were to each other. He was even more unsure of why he would even care. Eventually, Ed realized it came from little signs of familiarity. A touch of a shoulder that lingered a little too long. Or a small and succinct smile from either of them. It perplexed him because these things seemed like it slipped. They acted so coldly towards each other most of the time that they’d slip and it would throw them off.

Ed scoffed mentally; once again asking why would he care.

Eventually, they successfully traversed and descended the other building. The exit led to the roof of the adjacent building, not another street. Ed blocked the bright sun that began to slowly creep its way over, bringing in the new day.

“That’s our building over there.” Roy pointed to the vaulted, golden roof a few blocks away.

“You can’t deny the view.”

Roy glanced over to the boy. A smirk widened his lips at the simple wonderment of something that happened routinely. He walked next to him, staring out in front of him and deciding Edward wasn’t wrong. The sun brought forward light that made the glass and cement twinkle like gems.  “But it is hard to appreciate small things these days.”

The kid responded with a smile and a nod. Roy peered down to his watch, the one that wasn’t ticking. Ed had reminded him it wasn’t working back before he lied down for a nap.

A thick wooden plank fell loudly next to him, and yanked Roy from his musings.

Roy cleared his throat. “Just be careful crossing, they can be a bit–”

Ed scoffed, “You don’t have to tell me.” He crossed the plank with familiarity.

Roy was about to cross himself before he was held back by a hand.

He turned to see Riza with one of her disapproving looks. “Don’t get distracted. Let’s do this job and head back home.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Roy eased her hand out of its grip.

“If we live through this, maybe we could take it easy from here on out.”

Roy swallowed hard, stopping in the middle of the plank, and she urged him to move forward so she could. She said it so matter-of-factly, Roy had to wonder if she was joking. “Who are you and what have you done with Riza?”

“Ha. Ha,” she mocked. “I just know you’ve been talking about it for a while now. I know you’re tired. And after all this, I think I’m tired too.”

He breathed, “That would be nice.”

Roy would have clung to that sudden flurrying of good emotions and advised himself to keep it at bay. A feeling of dread crept slowly into his mind as he saw a fresh struggle between soldiers and what looked like Fireflies. He made the mistake then of deluding himself, convincing himself and Riza that it was probably not the people who were supposed to pick up the kid.

The Capitol building shimmered in the sunlight with the materials that still held up the edifice. But the beauty of it ended there. At the bottom of the stairs, it looked like a swamp. Green water had flooded the streets and nature had taken back what was hers, foliage peaking over the water’s surface.

Roy led their party up the stairs of what once was a historical building of Amestris. The door was already slightly ajar and it opened up to a round and extravagantly tall room with a grand staircase. The foyer, Roy assumed, and the room that had the fancy ceiling up above.

He looked down to the floor and he noticed them, just as Ed and Riza entered behind him. Panic overtook him like a fever. “No, no, no.” He rushed to the fallen bodies. Their necks were adorned with Fireflies necklaces and it confirmed his worst fear. “Fuck!” He searched through their persons, desperate to find something.

“Roy,” Riza called out to him, taken aback by his sudden change of demeanor. She walked up  to him. “What are you doing?”

“Maybe they had a map. Or something of where they were going.” He said frantically, breathing heavily and not bothering to hide it.

“Excuse me?” Riza lowered herself to his level. “Roy, this isn’t us. We take the kid back to Izumi and that’s all we can do.”

A burn could be felt in his eyes and he tried to will it away. He stood and she followed, her face a mixture of concern and perplexity. He grit his teeth, choosing to ignore her and search the next body.

“Roy, talk to me,” she demanded.

Nothing. He composed himself and his shoulders slumped, clenching his fists and feeling the finality of it all. “This is the end of the line for me, Riza.”

She huffed, “What are you talking about?”

“Holy shit.” Roy looked to the boy. He was shaking his head, a strange shade of golden eyes staring at him wide-eyed. “He’s infected.”

Riza looked at Edward and then Roy. “How do you–” but she stopped, gripping the bridge of her nose until she gathered herself. “Show me.”

“Riza.” He stood, holding up his hands to calm her down. She stepped back.

“Show me!”

He grabbed the collar of his dirtied shirt and exposed his inflamed skin. He didn’t want to look at it, but he knew where it was: the flesh adjacent to his neck, over his clavicle. He’d been able to hide it  with some hope that this could come to something and it suddenly felt like it was crashing down on him. Like that day.

Riza brought her hands over her mouth, nearing closer to him to inspect it – almost touching it – and backing away. “Oh, Roy,” she said with the smallest crack in her voice.

“You have to find them.”

She looked at him with a fury, eyes reddening around the corners. “You want me to what?”

“Find the Fireflies. Get him to them.”

“No,” she shook her head. “…you’re crazy. I can’t.”

With conviction, Roy marched over to Edward and the boy flinched as Roy clutched his wrist and exposed his bite mark. “This was three weeks. A stalker bit me an hour ago and mine already looks worse.” She winced when he showed her the wound again.

“Roy…” she tried to compose herself.

He walked over to her, grabbing her hands. “There has to be something left here. I know you still believe me. That you feel some kind of …obligation.” He could hear her breath getting labored.

Outside, a row of cars stopped in front of the Capitol building. The engines cut off and the uniform way the doors closed confirmed they weren’t friends of theirs. “Shit. You have to go now. I can buy you some time.”

“I know it’s been turbulent since-”

“Don’t,” he stopped her, knowing where she was going. He cupped her face, very nearly unable to dislodge the lump at his throat. “You have to take him.”

“No… No, don’t do this.”

“You have to. I will not turn into one of them.”

Hearing the footsteps approach, she whimpered before she nodded and some part of him wanted to shout for her to stay. But with the approaching heavy footsteps, Roy could only watch her back as she disappeared. He gripped the gun without so much as a tremble, and though death was always a common visitor in his life, coming and going for those around him, he thought he had his ducks in a row for when it would finally come for him. No words unspoken. No regrets to voice. After all this time.

He kidded himself, of course.

Roy squinted as the daylight spilled in. The doors bursted open and military officers filled in with an efficiency and militaristic order so paradoxical to what this world had become. He gripped the glock, flicking off the safety. They ordered him to put down the weapon, pointing several in his face – obviously outnumbered.

The sun felt warm, like it used to then. Back when he carried their toddler in one arm and had her hand in his. Sunshine was so precious.

They barked at him one more time, inching in closer. He pulled the hammer with his thumb, wondering whose day he’d make worse. Roy felt burning on his shoulder sear him to the bone that he twitched and accidentally pulled the trigger sooner than he intended to. He clipped a soldier but it was enough for them to engage. Several shot back and the warmth began to spill out of him. He was unaware of when he had hit the ceramic tiles.

Roy closed his eyes. His head lulled to the side and he breathed out.

‘Live, Riza.’