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dystopicjumpsuit · 9 months

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 17

The Way the World Ends

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings and tags: angst; Cerra being an awkward bean; suspense; action, canon-typical violence.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The strike team departs for Balmorra; Riyo goes to space IKEA.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

This is the way the world ends

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Echo didn’t sleep that night, plagued by anticipatory energy as he often was before a mission. Cerra wasn’t wrong: this extraction was riddled with uncertain variables that made it riskier than usual. He trusted his team, but he couldn’t help wishing that the Batch were there to back him up. Her rash accusation that he’d abandoned the Batch had struck home, causing him to second-guess his decision to leave. He knew the work he was doing with Rex was meaningful—that it was making a difference—but he could never quite shake the memory of Omega’s tearful eyes as she whimpered, “We need you, too.”

Cerra’s revelations about Fives had sent Echo reeling, and he was still processing the information. The doubts he’d harbored about Rex’s habit of withholding information from the team came roaring back to life as he questioned the captain’s decision to keep the full truth from him. Once again, he reflected on the openness and equality of the Batch’s communication. All of which added up to a jittery anxiety that made his stomach churn and his mind race. He volunteered to take the overnight watch, which gave him plenty of time and solitude to agonize over the reopened wound of Fives’s death.

Echo didn’t blame Gregor for needing space after his argument with Cerra, but the bleak expression in her eyes as she’d waited for hours for the commando’s return had been heartwrenching to witness. Echo had finally ordered her to go to bed so she’d be functional the next day. She’d pulled a face and reminded him that she technically outranked him, but she had obeyed regardless, grumbling under her breath as she sauntered to the barracks. By that point, Fireball and Nemec had long since returned from their errand, and had watched her with identical expressions of amusement—right up until Echo ordered them to go to bed, too.

“Drunk with power,” Nemec had declared, but he and Fireball had followed Cerra regardless.

Hours later, Echo rose to his feet with a sense of relief as he heard the speeder bike pull up outside the garage. Gregor entered through the side door, jerking his chin in a silent greeting to Echo. He headed straight to the refresher and took a shower, and by the time he reappeared, the rest of the team was awake. The commando stalked to the barracks, not looking at Cerra, who watched him silently from behind a mug of caf that must have been even worse than usual, based on her grimace as she sipped it.

When Gregor emerged from the barracks in full armor, he avoided her gaze and boarded the Remora without speaking a word. Fireball and Nemec sensed the tension, even without knowing what had caused it, and they said goodbye awkwardly. Echo gave Cerra’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I’ll bring him back,” he said.

“I know,” she said.

Echo gave her a small smile, and then followed the rest of the strike team up the ramp into the ship and into the cockpit. Gregor had already powered up the engines, and within minutes, he piloted the Remora out of Coruscant airspace.

The empty garage was deafeningly silent, with nothing to distract Cerra from thoughts that she would rather not have, such as where Gregor had spent the night, and why exactly she couldn’t breathe when she thought about the possibility that it had been in someone else’s bed. To occupy her hands, she began cleaning up the spectacular mess she and Echo had made working on the Remora. Trace would have been horrified to see the state of the shop, and though she and Rafa were unlikely to return to Coruscant any time soon, Cerra decided it would be wiser not to take the risk of the young mechanic witnessing the chaos they had wrought.

She had no idea how long the strike team would be away. Given the ship’s subpar hyperdrive, Echo had thought it wise to take the Remora to the Kuat system, which was much closer to Balmorra than Coruscant, where they would stand by for Rex’s contact to send the signal to attack. If they were on Coruscant when Howzer and his men were scheduled for transport, they would never arrive at Balmorra in time to intercept the ship. Unfortunately, since they had no way to narrow down the window, they could be gone for several days.

They also didn’t know how many men would be with Howzer, which meant that Cerra had a small problem. With the addition of Fireball and Nemec to Rex’s crew, they were running out of beds in the barracks. She would need to secure and install more bunks before the team returned unless they wanted to sleep in shifts. Between that project and her regular supply runs, she should have plenty of work to keep her busy until the clones returned and she could patch things up with Gregor.

The problem was that the bunks weren’t easy to steal—er, requisition. They were big and bulky and hard for a single person to transport. They also weren’t exactly regular merchandise handled by her normal contacts, but she didn’t have the funds to buy them through more reputable channels. After searching fruitlessly for options, she swallowed her pride and contacted Riyo.

The senator was more than understanding—she actually seemed delighted to help in a material way, and within a few hours, Cerra heard a speeder pull up to the landing platform. She opened the garage bay doors and was surprised to see Riyo herself, along with a few of her guards, who quickly unloaded a pallet and carried it to the barracks. Cerra started to follow, but Riyo laid a soft hand on her shoulder.

“Please,” said the senator, “let us take care of this. It feels like we’re doing so little in comparison, and this is a way for us to contribute.”

Cerra was surprised, but acquiesced readily enough. As the guards went to work assembling and installing the bunks, Riyo turned to Cerra, a hesitant expression on her face. Cerra cast about for a way to make the senator feel welcome. Kriff, this was weird. Aside from that one time when Riyo had taken her into confidence about her relationship with Fox, they had really only interacted as part of the larger group.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” Cerra offered. “Caf, maybe?”

“Yes—” Riyo began, before quickly correcting herself. “No, thank you.”

Cerra laughed. “Gregor must have warned you about my cooking.”

A dark blue flush stained Riyo’s cheeks, but she smiled. “He may have said something. I didn’t think it could possibly be that bad.”

“Oh, no, it is,” Cerra said nonchalantly, leading the senator to the sofa and gesturing for her to have a seat, then flopping down at the opposite end. “I’m good at a lot of things, but cooking isn’t one of them. Thank kri—uh, thank the Maker for Gregor. Otherwise we’d all subsist on ration bars and burnt caf.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” Riyo observed.

“I was alone with Rex for months before Gregor joined us,” Cerra replied. “I still have indigestion when I think about it.”

“That sounds… awful, actually,” Riyo said.

Cerra shrugged. “Trust me, it was the least of our problems.”

“It was a dark time,” Riyo said quietly.

“For so many people,” Cerra agreed.

Riyo looked away, gazing down at her hands as she picked nervously at her cuticles. After a few moments, she took a deep breath, and looked at Cerra with soft, vulnerable eyes. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Cerra said uncertainly.

Riyo glanced toward the open barracks door, where the sound of the guards at work was plainly audible, then scooted closer to Cerra. “I know we aren’t close enough to justify this question, but I don’t have anyone else I can ask.”

Cerra held very still, holding her breath as she waited for the senator to continue. She ruthlessly tamped down the tiny spark of panic that started to rise in her chest, determined to hear the woman out despite her sudden impulse to fake a severe illness and hide in the refresher until the Pantoran contingent left the garage.

“I’m listening,” Cerra said with deceptive calm.

Riyo bit her lip softly before she spoke. “Do you think I’m moving on too soon? With Echo?”

Cerra blinked, taking a long moment to consider the question. This had decidedly not been one of the many possible scenarios her mind had concocted in the few seconds that had passed since Riyo posed her first question and unwittingly launched Cerra into a silent tailspin of dismay and apprehension.

Riyo misinterpreted her silence as offense. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just, you’re the only person I’ve told about Fox.”

Cerra was surprised to realize that she didn’t feel the sickening rage she’d so long associated with the commander’s name. Which was not to say that she was exactly thrilled to talk about him, but it also didn’t make her want to commandeer the freighter and disappear into the Unknown Regions.

She swallowed. “I never knew Fox, but from the way you’ve talked about him, it’s obvious that he loved you. I don’t think—” Her throat tightened abruptly, and she paused a moment to breathe carefully before she continued. “I don’t think a man who loved you like that would want you to mourn him forever. I—I think he would want you to—”

“Fives would want you to be happy.” Echo’s voice whispered in her mind, and Cerra stuttered to a halt.

“Yes?” Riyo asked, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Cerra cleared her throat and spoke again. “I think—If you’ll pardon my language, senator, it’s a karked-up galaxy out there. None of us knows when we’re gonna eat it. And if you feel like you can find some scrap of happiness with Echo, I’d say you should take the chance while you can.”

Riyo gazed at her as the tears welling in her wide eyes finally spilled over and slid down her cheeks. Cerra hesitated for a moment before cautiously reaching out and draping her arm over the senator’s shoulders. Riyo, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate for a moment. She leaned against Cerra and took a deep, shuddering breath as she closed her eyes.

“S—sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”

Cerra rubbed her hand between Riyo’s shoulders and stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed on nothing, her thoughts a confusing jumble.

“No need to apologize,” she said quietly. “Sometimes, no matter how many times we tell ourselves something, we don’t really believe it until someone else says it, too.”

By the fourth day after the strike team left, Cerra was climbing the walls with boredom. She missed teasing Fireball, and sparring with Rex, and arguing about the Bake Off with Echo. But mostly, she missed Gregor. She barely slept the first few nights, tossing uncomfortably in her bed for hours, unable to slow the frantic pace of her mind. Eventually, she climbed into Gregor’s bunk, snuggling into his pillow and breathing in his familiar, comforting scent as she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

By the fifth day, the garage was spotless and ruthlessly organized, and she turned her attention to the freighter, sending the droids inside to clean it while she performed routine service and restocked all its supplies. Even after she finished all the most minute and unnecessary repairs and maintenance tasks, only half the day had passed, and the hours stretched out endlessly.

On the sixth day, her comlink chirped, and she dived for it so fast she nearly face-planted on the plastcrete floor of the garage. As she turned it on, she ignored the tiny hint of disappointment as Rex—not Gregor—flickered into view.

“Hey, Cap,” she greeted him.

“Cerra, are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Nax contacted me,” he said. “I need someone to rendezvous with our intermediary on Daiyu. Can you do it?”

“I can take the freighter,” she said, “but that would leave the garage unguarded.”

Rex frowned. “I can ask Riyo if she can spare someone to keep an eye on it. Otherwise, we won’t have much choice. Nax is on a tight timeline.”

“Understood,” she said, heading toward the freighter. “I’m leaving now.”

“I’ll send you the details while you’re en route,” Rex said. “Watch your back out there.”

“Always. Cerra out.”

Rex had already transmitted the location and identity of the intermediary by the time Cerra cleared Coruscant’s traffic. It was a long hyperspace jump to Daiyu. Cerra had never visited the planet before, but she was aware of its seedy reputation. Anything went on Daiyu. It wasn’t quite as wretched a hive of scum and villainy as Nar Shadda, but it was still an excellent place to visit if your goal was to end up in a trafficker’s cargo hold or with a vibroblade in your gut.

Stars, she wished Gregor were with her. This was far from her first solo mission, but she’d grown accustomed to his reassuring presence on riskier operations. She never felt safer than when he was beside her. He was one of the most competent warriors she had ever seen—possibly even more skilled than Rex. He was strong, brave, and resilient, but more than that, he was unfailingly kind, and he had been there for her during her darkest, lowest points. She hated herself for making him think that she saw him as anything less than the incredible man he was.

She had plenty of time to reflect on her many failures during the jump, and she couldn’t help wondering whether she had ever offered anything in return. Did she even have anything left to offer? She felt so broken, so hollow. How could she ever be worthy of his—of a friend like him? In the end, would she only drag him down into her quagmire of misery? When everything she touched turned to ash, how could she take that risk?

But the alternative was unthinkable. To leave, to abandon the fight, went against everything in her nature. Perhaps it was time to find a new place in Rex’s network. She knew he had allies who were not clones. Maybe what she needed was a clean break, a fresh start, away from the constant, endless reminders of Fives. Far, far away from Gregor. She would run to the furthest reaches of Wild Space if it meant he would be safe. She would go anywhere, do anything. And if that meant she would have to spend the rest of her life with the yawning chasm of emptiness that opened in her chest at the thought of being without him—well, she could live with it if it meant he would live, too.

Daiyu’s miasmic pollution was visible even from space. A gray-green haze swirled through the planet’s atmosphere, nearly obscuring the lights of Daiyu City. Cerra piloted the freighter to a secluded dockyard on the outskirts of the city. She’d have a bit of a hike to the rendezvous point, but it was preferable to risking an encounter with the Empire at one of the larger spaceports.

Rex’s contact was a Rodian spice runner named Obik, and Cerra intended to hold that information over Rex’s head for the foreseeable future in revenge for the many, many times he’d complained about her less-than-savory network of contacts. Rex insisted Obik was trustworthy, though, and since nearly everyone on Daiyu was involved in the spice trade in some way, they didn’t have many options unless they were willing to get their hands a little dirty.

Cerra kept to the shadows as she traversed the city. She wore minimal armor and left her helmet in the freighter in an attempt to blend. Her drab, nondescript clothing faded into the dinginess, and she kept her hood up to conceal her face from the lurid glow of the countless neon signs and street lights. She walked with purpose, hoping that she didn’t present an easy enough mark to attract attention. The few individuals who thought it worthwhile to approach her shuffled away once they spotted the blasters strapped to her thighs or the flash of her plastoid chestplate beneath her cloak, and she made surprisingly good time.

Her pulse sped up as she approached the rendezvous point. She passed the entrance to the building, ducked down an alleyway, and doubled back once she was certain she hadn’t picked up a tail. The crumbling building was dark inside, and she drew her blaster as she made her way silently down the gloomy corridors. Trash and debris littered her path, and in the darkness, she caught the fleeting glint of light in the eyes of some small vermin that skittered and scratched through the walls. She arrived at a large warehouse and spotted the Rodian sitting on a crate, illuminated by a small fusion lantern. She glanced quickly around the space to confirm they were alone before she entered the warehouse.

“Obik?” she asked in a low voice. What the kriff was Rex’s passphrase? “I wasn’t sure you’d make it. It’s a long jump from Nar Shadda.”

He didn’t respond. Awareness prickled across her skin as she registered the unnatural angle of his head as it tilted on his neck.

Kark.

She spun on her heel and sprinted for the exit, slapping her commlink. Rex’s face flickered in front of her.

“What is it?” he asked tersely.

“We’ve been made,” she hissed. “Obik is dead.”

“Kriff,” Rex cursed. “Nax?”

“No sign of him,” she whispered.

“Get out of there,” Rex ordered.

“Copy—”

A blue light flashed, and searing pain hit her legs. She stumbled and went down, rolling as she landed. She tried to stand, but she couldn’t move her legs.

“Cerra!” Rex exclaimed.

She heard the pounding of approaching footsteps, and she ripped off the commlink.

“Sorry,” she panted. “I can’t risk them tracing you.”

“NO!” Rex shouted, but she smashed the commlink before he could finish, tossing the mangled scraps into the piles of refuse that lined the corridor.

She tried to drag herself away, her fingers clawing at the cracked and filthy plastcrete, but all too soon, a pair of improbably shiny boots entered her field of vision, and the footsteps came to a halt in front of her. She heard the hum of a blaster charging up, and then the world went black.

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Next chapter

#tbb echo #captain rex #captain gregor #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #clone trooper nax #the bad batch #star wars #tbb fanfic #star wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes #stars beyond number #Spotify

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texasthoughtsaboutnothing · 9 months

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Thoughts on MD3.

Overall much better. I think 4 floors is the perfect length and the focus on status team building is both refreshing and encourages community engagement. It also highlights which IDs I desperately lack, really hope the various Molar IDs become available soon.

(I FUCKING BOUGHT LIU ISH FOR A BURN TEAM AND THEN GOT HER FROM A 10 PULL FUCKING KILL MEEEE)

Starlight bonus is interesting as a mechanic but I wonder if it will fall off and we'll go back to running the best IDs with win rate spam. Some way to convert excess starlight into shards or other resources might be necessary.

Item Fusion feels bad, I feel like it should give me as many options to pick from as I put in and be weighted towards my selected run. In addition, I wish Shops and Rest Stops were guaranteed nodes on the path and not optional, especially as central as they are to the dungeon.

While it seems to be variable per season, I hope future MD has more options for teams, several IDs has statuses not related to the ones highlighted in these EGO Gifts (Haste, Nails, Defense Power, etc).

#limbus company #project moon #THE FAULT IS YOURS ISHMAEL

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kikiiswashere · 9 months

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Children of Zaun - Chapter 19

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut

Chapter Summary: Viktor senses something is off. Grayson touches base with Bone. The Children attempt their hiest!

Chapter CW: Canon typical violence. PTSD.

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 4.5K

When Katya picked Viktor up on Friday, she barely acknowledged Ivy. Partly due to her anger, partly due to shame about her behavior the day before. She took the rucksack from the aide, her eyes downcast, hands reaching out to grab protectively at her brother’s shoulders once it was secure across her back.

Ivy watched the other woman sadly, wanting to say something, but not knowing what that would be; nor knowing if it would be wise to say anything in front of the boy.

“Have a good weekend, Viktor,” she said instead, a reassuring smile on her cherry-red lips.

“You, too, Miss – “

“Let’s go, Viktor,” Katya interjected, guiding him away.

Viktor’s brows furrowed as he began to awkwardly fall into step with her guided gait. He looked back at Ivy one last time before turning his attention toward the walk home.

He could sense something was wrong. It didn’t take an especially astute mind to see that Katya was in a foul mood. What was trickier for him was determining why. People had too many variables for his liking – it completely negated the scientific method. The backbone of chemical, biological, and physical theories and laws were their relatively controlled environments. If A, then B. If A, and C is present, then D; and so on.

People did not, as far as he could tell, live by such rules. Their feelings and actions could not be counted on to be consistent. And he found it vexing. And intimidating.

Viktor stuck close to Katya’s side as they made their way to the Bridge, his chin tucked in and eyes occasionally peering up at her, hoping he could glean any information from her stony profile.

“What is wrong?” he finally asked as they stepped into the Promenade.

Katya winced and chewed her lip. The pause scared him.

“Nothing,” she finally said, ushering him toward the Conveyor Car station. “I’ve just had a bad week.”

“Oh,” he murmured. He knew Katya didn’t lie to him, but he felt unconvinced.

“Come. Let’s get home.”

The weekend went by quickly, as it often did. But instead of feeling comforted and refreshed by time away from Piltover, he felt on edge and smothered. Whatever had happened during the week to his sister, clouded their home. It kept her irritable and clingy at the same time. She sat too close, touched him too much, didn’t really speak with him, and didn’t really listen. Despite her near-suffocating proximity, she seemed very far away, and he didn’t know how to call her back.

On Monday, when she dropped him off with Ivy, her fingers clawed at him when they hugged. Desperate and lonely.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy kindly said, “but we need to get going.”

Viktor made to pull away, ready to start his week. But Katya held on for a beat more. She touched him for as long as possible, letting her fingertips trail down his shoulders and arms as he stepped over to the aide.

“I love you, Viktor. I’ll see you Friday.”

Her voice was hollow and heavy. He didn’t understand. And he didn’t like it.

“I love you, too,” he replied. He attempted a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Grayson knocked on Councilor Bone’s office door and waited. Usually, Councilors had receptionists. Bone did not. Something the Captain took note now only because she wondered if this was another microaggression against an Undercity citizen.

“Come in.”

She stepped inside, removing her cap as she did. “Councilor, sir.”

“Ah, Captain Grayson,” Bone sighed, peering over his spectacles at her. “Please, come in. Have a seat.”

He gestured to the simple chair in front of his desk as he pocketed his glasses, and put the paper he was reading down. Grayson did as instructed, removing the folders from under her arm as she sat.

“I have looked through what you gave me,” she said heavily, placing a palm on the documents. His nod was equally somber, and he waited for her to continue. After a long moment, she added, “I see what you are saying.”

Bone nodded again, closing his eyes. He made to swallow and his throat hitched. He clasped a hand around his mouth as his lungs tried to push an angry retch up his trachea. His other hand fished out the handkerchief he kept in his breast pocket. He covered his mouth, and swiveled away from Grayson. After a few more bone-rattling hacks, a warm, slimy wad crawled its way up Bone’s throat and mouth, and landed in the cloth. Very carefully, not wanting to disturb his guest, nor let on the severity of his condition, he coolly removed the handkerchief. Carefully pinching it to contain the bloody lump, he stowed it in his pocket and turned back to the captain.

“Apologies,” he rasped.

Grayson’s eyebrows creased in concern. She’d heard that the last Assembly had been cut short because of an acute health issue of Bone’s; now she wondered just how acute it was.

“I can come back another time, Councilor,” she offered. “Perhaps you ought to go home and rest.”

“No, no,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Rest will not help. I do not want to rest.”

That statement made the lines on Grayson’s face deepen. What he had said did not have the calming effect she suspected he wanted. However, she was not in a position to argue with a Councilor. No matter where he hailed from. Not if the work he wanted to do with her was on a time crunch.

“Thank you for taking the time to look over those files,” Bone said, genuine gratitude shining in his pale eyes. “Unfortunately, those are only a fraction of the cases – “

“I know.”

“ – and Enforcer brutality is ongoing.”

Grayson closed her eyes. “I know.”

She had never partaken, and she had never taken it as seriously as perhaps she should have, but she was well-aware of trainees and rookie Enforcers going into the Undercity and finding citizens to fight. In the name of tradition. For meaningless clout. She had recently reamed a trio for that very activity. Not only was it unprofessional and shameful, but they had had their asses handed to them by whoever they had tried to intimidate.

“I would like us to put the data together in a thorough and concise presentation format,” Bone said, “and present it at an Assembly.”

“Us?” Grayson gasped. “Shouldn’t we get LeDaird on board, too?”

“We will. Eventually.” He fixed her with a sly grin. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, yes?”

“I suppose,” she conceded, settling back into her seat.

She knew from experience (her own and her peers’) that sometimes bending or skirting protocol was the best way to get things done, to solve cases. Even LeDaird knew that. “Hopefully after that attempted robbery at the docks a couple weeks ago, things will be relatively quiet so we can work on this.”

The first step in stealing the money, Katya found out, was sneaking across the Pilt. The airship port was on Piltover’s side of the river; built into the cliff faces on the outskirts of the city. The captain Beckett worked for was also a part of the Children, and was allowing him to use a small dinghy to ferry himself, Silco, Katya, and Annie to the opposite shore.

The night of the job, Katya met Silco at The Last Drop’s backdoor. Vander and Enyd stood behind him; the barkeep looking hopeful, but stoic. Enyd was pale, her hands continually fretting with the dark clothes her son wore. Katya was wearing dark ones, too; something that he had suggested when they had met up with Annie and Beckett to go over the plan.

“We’re meeting Beckett and Annie there,” he said, stepping away from The Drop. Enyd followed and began to fuss over Katya.

She nodded, and asked, “Are we ready?”

“Wait a moment,” Enyd breathed, her hand snaking into her satchel. She pulled a small, folded pile of cloth out and handed it to Silco. “To cover your faces with,” she explained.

He nodded and handed one of the four handkerchiefs to Katya. Taking it, she unfolded it once, a glimmer against the pitch fabric catching her eye. She squinted in the low light, and saw that there was a small ‘Z’ stitched into the corner with silver thread.

“Be safe, yeah?” Vander said, shifting restlessly. While his strong jaw remained set, his eyes shone with worry.

Silco nodded. “We will be back in a few hours.”

Enyd threw herself into him, holding on tightly. He drew her close and reassured, “It will be uneventful. In and out.”

Katya nodded; so did Vander, as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Reluctantly, Enyd pulled back from her son, only for her slim arms to reach for and hold on to the young woman. Thrown off, but grateful, Katya returned the embrace.

“In and out,” she repeated. “Like he said.”

Regardless, Enyd insisted, “Be careful.” She stepped back and gave the pair a warning look. They nodded and stole away down the alley. Vander placed a massive hand on Enyd’s shoulder as they watched them go.

Silco and Katya slipped silently through Zaun’s alleyways and to the docks. Annie and Beckett met them in the shadows of the Harbormaster’s hut, both looking uncharacteristically serious. In addition to their dark outfits, Beckett wore a black knit cap over his fire-red hair, and Annie had spun her own dark locks into a tight braid, instead of her usual loose pigtails. There were quick ‘hellos’ – Annie simply jutting her chin in Katya’s direction – and Silco handed the pair the remaining two masks.

The docks were dark and quiet as they strode for the small dinghy lazily bobbing in the water, waiting for them. Beckett took the back and readied the motor. Annie took the middle bench, while Katya and Silco sat hip-to-hip at the bow. Beckett untied the vessel and ripped the motor’s cord. It puttered to life and they began the short voyage to a small grotto just beneath the airship base. The boat would hide there while they executed their plan.

The water beneath the boat was so still; a smooth, black mirror of the sky. Beckett captained the vessel gently, leaving only a glossy ripple in their wake. None of them spoke. Katya’s knee bobbled nervously as they went. Eventually, Silco put a hand on her leg, keeping his touch light.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. He paused, and added in a quieter whisper, “I got you. I won’t let anything happen.”

Katya gave him a thankful smile, but her heart thundered on. It was a moment before Silco realized that he had left his hand on her thigh. Slowly, so as to not draw attention to himself, he drew his hand back. His fingers tingled and he flexed them, wondering why it suddenly felt difficult to breathe.

With the pace they kept, it took a little over an hour to reach the grotto. Beckett harbored the small boat just out of sight of any prying eyes. As they exited the vessel, both Beckett and Annie swung large, empty sacks over their shoulders and handed one each to Katya and Silco. They tucked Enyd’s masks up over their noses, and they ascended the steep cliff face. The climb became easier once the natural, jagged rock gave way to the smooth stone that built up the tower of the hanger. However, the biting wind off the Pilt stung their eyes and cheeks now that the extra rock cover was beneath them.

“The third hanger,” Annie whispered as they approached the first massive cavern in the cliffs. She pointed up for good measure.

While Katya had of course seen airships and blimps far up in the sky, it was very different seeing them up close, tethered and waiting in their bays. Impressive, hulking machines made from metal, wood, glass, and fabric. She didn’t know if it was because it was so late, but they did not have to dodge as many workers as she expected. The few she spied were lazily leaned against the iron gangways that bracketed each airship, smoking and distracted by conversations they were having with one another.

The ship in the third bay up was not as large as the one beneath, a fact Katya found comforting. Less room to have to search through, fewer crew members to have to avoid. The small group huddled together at the mouth of the cavern.

“The delivery from Clapper should already be aboard,” Silco said. “Stowed in the belly of the main cabin. Time?”

Beckett checked the chrono on his wrist. “It’s 9:30.”

“The ship is supposed to sail at 10:00,” Annie supplied.

Silco nodded. “Right. We sneak in, find the delivery, get the coin, and get out.”

Katya swallowed and set her jaw. Her heart tapped and she steeled her nerves. Stealing from the mines medical supplies seemed so much less risky compared to this.

They carefully crept onto the catwalks, mindful to keep their footsteps as soft as they could. They ducked behind crates and kept careful watch of the workers above and below them. They approached the ramp that led onto the ship and paused. Silco and Beckett looked to Annie, who skirted around them and sneaked up to the door, and silently slid it open. She peered inside, and after a beat, beckoned them to follow her.

The cabin was dimly lit and full of boxes. To their right there was a door and a brighter light spilled beneath it. Muffled voices murmured behind it. At once, Beckett began silently stacking boxes in front of the door. Katya joined in and set additional crates in front of that pile.

“Here,” Annie whispered. She handed each member a chem-torch from a nearby shelf. She flicked hers on and held it beneath her chin, making a twisted face.

“Not now, Annie,” Silco admonished, turning his own on.

Annie rolled her eyes at him and began looking absently around the cabin. “Oh! Look at this!”

The other three turned, expecting to see a crate with the Clapper insignia on it. Instead, Annie enthusiastically thrusted a small, metal and glass contraption towards them.

“It’s a camera! I think,” she said excitedly, spinning the object in her hands to look at it. “I’ve never seen one.”

“Put it back, Annie,” Katya hissed. “That is not what we’re here for.”

The other woman ignored her and stuck the camera in her bag.

“Come on,” Silco insisted. “There’s a door over here. It should take us below.”

Indeed, the door opened onto a short staircase that took them below the main cabin. Larger boxes were stowed there and the group dispersed, looking for their target.

“Here,” Katya called after a minute. Her torch’s beam shone over a large, squat box with Clapper’s logo stamped across the wood. The rest of the party gathered around, and Beckett withdrew a prybar from his sack and opened the crate. They pawed through the paper confetti cushioning the delivery until they finally uncovered the curtains beneath. “Nasha said the coin would be sewn into the hems.”

Silco and Annie reached in, feeling for the ends of the fabric.

“Here,” Silco said, lifting the end of one panel up. The fabric sagged and sifted over his hands, gently clinking as it moved. He withdrew the knife from his boot and slashed the hem open. Gold hexes fell out. Katya’s mouth went dry, both Beckett and Annie’s eyes went wide.

“Fuck,” Beckett breathed. “I’ve never seen so much coin.”

“And this is only a fraction of it,” Silco said, and Katya could hear the smile in his voice.

They filled Annie and Beckett’s bags first.

“Fuckin’ Janna,” Annie complained as she slung the pack over her shoulders. “This guy must be in deep shit if he owes this much coin.”

“It’s 9:45,” Beckett announced, adjusting his partner’s bag.

Silco nodded. “You two go. Start heading back down to the boat.”

“Be careful,” Katya implored as they crawled back up the stairs.

Together, she and Silco dug through and cut open the remaining curtains, emptying the gold into their bags. Once they got to the bottom of the crate, they carefully pawed through the panels again, making sure not a coin was left behind.

Above them, a door opened and loud footsteps stomped along the floor. Both Katya and Silco froze, bodies tense like springs, hearts thundering. There wasn’t another way out. Only up, back through the main cabin – where someone was traipsing about, entirely unbothered by the amount of noise they made.

They should’ve checked how many of the crew had been in the main bridge of the airship before boxing it up . . .

“What the fuck is this?” an unfamiliar gruff voice muttered. Then the sound of him shifting boxes around.

Silco turned to say something to Katya and she jumped, knocking into the crate’s lid, and toppling it over. It wasn’t a loud sound, but noisy and unsuspected enough that it alerted the crew member above them.

“Whose down there?”

“Hide!” Silco hissed, pushing Katya into a darkened corner.

No sooner had she stumbled behind another tower of crates, did the door at the top of the stairs open, a large shadow looming down the steps and into the cargo hold. She hurriedly turned her torch off, gulping down a scared gasp. Silco sprang for the shadows. But the light pouring in caught his boot before he could slip away entirely. His own chem-torch rattled and rolled away across the floor. The man grunted an amused tone and began down the steps, each footfall heavy. Meant to intimidate.

Katya pressed her back into the wall behind her, scarcely daring to breathe. This couldn’t be happening . . . This couldn’t be happening. This was supposed to be an in-and-out job. Her skeleton wanted to crumble to the floor; her meager supper threatened to make a reappearance. She shouldn’t have agreed to this; she hadn’t been in the right state of mind when she agreed. What had she been thinking?

She’d been thinking of her brother, she knew. Of how he deserved the world, and that this was supposed to be a way of giving it to him.

She bit her lip under her mask to keep from making a sound. She had also been thinking of herself, if she was honest. She was so angry with Piltover. So, so angry that they wanted to take another thing from her. Like she didn’t deserve it. Like Viktor would be better off without her. That she was nothing, and deserved to fall into soot-covered obscurity in the Sump and die.

“What’s this?”

The man spoke and Katya started, peering out from behind a tower of crates. Her stomach curdled. The crew member – a very large man with a sneer on his face and an iron bar in one hand – had pulled Silco out of the shadows and now stood over him. Silco glared up at him, his blue eyes shards of ice that cut between the space of his hair and the mask. Next to his side, the bag of coins was open, its golden belly glittering in the light.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling. The frame of the airship thrummed and vibrated. And then it jolted forward. Katya’s stomach tumbled. The ship was leaving port! Her mind raced. She couldn’t get caught. And she couldn’t be hauled off to Bilgewater. She couldn’t abandon Viktor. She had to figure out an escape. At this point, whether or not the money made it back to Zaun didn’t concern her.

“Thieving little Sumprat,” the crew member growled at Silco, taking another step towards him. The meaty fist that held the iron bar twitched.

Katya’s hand twitched too. Toward the small revolver tucked in her trouser pocket. She had debated leaving it at home, and was now glad she hadn’t. Before the man could raise the bar over his head, she took the gun out, aimed, and fired. The pop of the gun was sharp, and rang off the metal hull of the ship. The bullet lodged itself into the back of the crew member’s knee, and he howled in anguish, crumpling to the floor. Silco lurched forward and grabbed the iron bar, and cracked him across the head.

The Enforcer fell. Katya’s father stomped on his ankles.

Bones crushing. Hollow wails.

From the ground, the Enforcer delivered one blow of his baton to Katya’s father’s head.

Katya’s mind spun and her body froze, cold terror leaching out any warmth in her. Her vision began to white out around her periphery. Silco shouting her name, and reaching for her shook her out of the memory and back into her body.

“Kat! Are you okay?” He gripped her shoulders tightly as his eyes scoured her body. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Katya took a couple shaky breaths and shook her head. “No. Are you?”

“No. We need to get moving. The other crew members will have heard that – “

“The ship is moving!” Katya suddenly cried. The floor was softly rumbling beneath her feet.

“I know,” Silco said. His hands flew from her shoulders to cup her face. “We’re going to get back home. Okay? You hear me? I got you.”

She swallowed and nodded. Her eyes flicked over to the prone man behind him. “Is he . . .?”

“No, just knocked out. I think,” Silco assured. He stepped over and quickly assessed the man. “No. He’s breathing. Come on.”

As they scrambled up the stairs, the rest of the crew was shouting and ramming into the door Beckett and Katya had blocked off. A fair amount of boxes had been knocked away, the door open enough that one of them could shove his shoulder and arm out, trying to topple some of the crates just out of reach. His eyes bulged seeing the two stow-aways skitter to a stop.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

His outburst caused the other members behind him to scuffle and fight to get looks at who he was referring to.

“Thieves!” Someone yelled.

“Move!” Another screamed, knocking the man in front aside. A gun barrel appeared in the doorway, and it fired.

The shot was not aimed at anything, and Silco and Katya ducked as the bullet hit a crate. It exploded in a burst of splinters and paper. Another shot was fired; this one ricocheting off a metal pipe, causing sparks to rain down from the ceiling in a fine mist.

“Stop wasting bullets!” Someone yelled.

The distraction was enough to let Silco and Katya throw themselves into the door and crush the people behind it. The gun went off again as the nose of it was flung up by the impact. The bullet sliced through a tube slung on the ceiling, and fluid began spraying out of it in wide swaths.

Katya screamed and leapt back. She tripped over a crate and fell. Silco went after her, grabbing her arm. As he went to pull her onto her feet, he paused, sniffing. They both looked over to the decimated crate. It was smoking, orange embers slowly licking to life, eating away at the wood and paper. Growing bigger, stronger.

“Fuck,” he whispered. For the first time, he sounded uncertain. Scared.

Behind them, the door to the bridge finally burst open, the three remaining crew members tumbling out, ready to fight. Katya’s eyes immediately picked out the woman who held the gun – a rifle, judging by its long barrel. She pulled her own gun back out and fired at her shin. The woman screamed and collapsed to the floor. Silco tackled into the man that had been trying to wedge through the door earlier, bowling both of them over back into the airship’s bridge.

The second man eyed the growing fire behind Katya with big, terrified eyes. He froze up as his counterpart on the floor yelled at him to do something. So, he did. Wrenching open the sliding door on the ship’s hull, he let a huge gush of air into the cabin. The embers sucked the sudden onslaught of oxygen up in a mighty WHOOSH. The flames ate and grew, licking up the walls and lapping at the ceiling. All three screamed, Katya scrabbling away from the fire. The heat bit at the sliver of flesh visible between her bangs and nose bridge. The smell of burning chemicals, hair, and heat filled the air. The crew member who had opened the bay door looked out at the view below him, back at the fire, to the woman on the floor, to Katya, to the gun in her hand, and jumped out.

The woman on the floor screamed and thrashed, trying to grab Katya’s revolver. Panic sluiced over her body, taking control of her limbs, as her assailant grabbed at her pant leg and attempted to pull her down. Katya’s limbs locked up a moment before exploding into action. Her free leg swung, the toe of her boot connecting with the underside of her attacker’s jaw. There was a sickening crack! and a garbled, anguished howl as the crew member was flung to the side. When she didn’t move, Katya lurched forward and grabbed the rifle before running into the airship’s bridge.

Silco had taken care of the final crew member; the man was slouched against one of the seats, blood dribbling from his lips, one of his hands pierced to the floor by a knife. Silco himself was at the consol, frantically looking over all the levers and buttons.

“The fire is spreading!” Katya cried.

Silco looked over his shoulder at her, and saw the blaze in the other room. The sweat trickling down his back was not only from the heat. Above them, there was a loud metallic groan and crash as the flames began eating away at the frame around the canvas balloon. Katya shrieked and jumped to Silco’s side. His mind raced, but no idea landed. He stared out the windshield at the expanse of black in front of them. Below, he could see the stars reflected off the Pilt, the orange fireball he and Katya were now engulfed in.

“We need to jump!” she shouted. He looked at her, eyes wide. “It’s our only option! Jump and swim to shore!”

Behind them, another gust of wind fanned the fire, and it surged up and around. Each of them could feel the thread of their clothes beginning to burn, the buckles of their boots becoming blisteringly hot. Silco agreed with her: jumping would be their only chance. He grabbed the rifle in her hand and beat it against the airships windows until they shattered. They scrambled up onto the consol and peered down below. The cool, briny air was a welcome relief from the heat and smoke. Less appealing was the very large drop between them and the water. Katya felt Silco freeze next to her, his body going rigid with fear.

“Come on!” she screamed, grabbing his hand and knocking her shoulder roughly into his. “Please!”

Silco grit his teeth, his fingers clamping down around Katya’s. “I got you,” he promised.

Katya wasn’t sure what made her say it, but she nodded and replied, “You have me.”

Together, they leapt from the airship. Plummeting down, down, down to the water below.

Notes: Cliffhanger! Cliffhanger! Wuh-oh!!!!

Coming Up Next: The Children of Zaun make their prescense known.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @dreamyonahill, @pinkrose1422, @altered-delta, @truthandadare. @sand-sea-and-fable

#children of zaun #coz #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco #vander #viktor #original characters #young silco #young viktor #young vander #my writing #silco fanfic

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dakimomoe · 9 months

Note

Just played the demo for the first time, I really like the whole concept of the story! I think it's been the only story I've read about elemental users in a modern setting, so I can't help but find it refreshing (bonus points for having ATLA/TLOK as inspos, good taste indeed).

My thoughts, in no particular order: I want to give MC a warm hug, a fluffy blanket and a cup of hot chocolate (+ praying that the lightning deity that blessed MC will also smite the orphanage and Mother down in the future. Do it for the poor little meow meow, o great deity!), Mother sounds like one of the caretakers or the head of the orphanage, I love L and A to bits, after the new info about J (what with MC having trauma regarding earth weavers) I'm looking forward to their interactions w/ MC, I hope we see Professor Astor again...

Lore questions that popped in my head: Do people know how many elemental deities are? Since there's apparently a hierarchy in place... And the fact that lightning as an element is very rare for weavers makes me think that there're probably more deities for an element than others (either that or the deity is very stingy with their blessing lmao).

Romance-centered thoughts: I absolutely will romance all of the ROs, I can't resist their allure at all. I'm making three separate playthroughs as I speak 🏃‍♀️ (though I have to admit I'll romance A first. 'Cold and detached exterior with a warm and nice side underneath it all for those who break their walls' characters are my one-hit K.O. weakness fr 😔). It also makes me think... How would you rate the RO routes for slowburn and angst purposes? L and A seem to have some baggage concerning their families, J is a mystery for now, and MC can be the biggest touch-averse yet touch-starved person in the whole story. Also, the implications of some of the choices make me imagine that MC could potentially not see themselves as someone worth loving, you know. They're gonna be so confused and scared at the whole falling in love business that will ensue in the future 😭.

Ohhh I love asks like these. They make me re-think some of the decisions I’ve made while writing - in a good way of course!

I’ve always adored the world of ATLA/TLOK (though I admit I have not finished the original series yet, only Korra’s). The little fanfics I’ve written for it (for myself only) are my favorites

The amount of deities that exist are unknown, but there is more to be revealed about the existence of weavers like the MC in the future. Let’s just say that the realm of elemental deities have their own shit to take care of 👀

The relationship angst and pacing entirely depends on how MC interacts with them romantically. The variables for MC affection for RO, and RO affection for MC are separate. I’ll just let you imagine what that means 😏

#lightweaver: chosen #ask #if wip #about: ro #about: mc #about: lore

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rinixo · 2 years

Text

spectre

Din Djarin/Reader | 2.9k | Rated M | afab reader, no y/n, a little unresolved romantic tension, descriptions of violence and fear, canon divergence

The story of how the scholar met the bounty hunter.

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

read on ao3

Your favorite part of the archives was how no one else ever seemed to be around. Not that you were anti-social or anything – it was just that when doing your research you preferred to not be disturbed. It ruined your flow if you were constantly distracted, and the dim archive room you were in provided you the perfect place to get completely absorbed in what you were doing.

Your coworkers often poked fun at how invested you could get in your work, but you didn’t mind. Sometimes you just needed a few hours alone with your data and charts. It especially helped on days like this, filled with meetings, lectures, and more excuses as to why your thesis argument wasn’t ‘what the university was looking for’.

“Maybe it would be,” you muttered to yourself as you tapped on your console, “if they’d just let me get the data I need.” You knew that your work was important and heading in the right direction, and there was material in the secure physical repository that could prove it. Every time you tried to get approval to access it, though, you were once again met with excuses as to why you couldn’t.

So instead there you were, re-running simulations and cross-referencing variables while simultaneously looking up grants that could fund an expedition or purchase materials that could help with your research. The Empire had censored – and in some cases, destroyed – untold amounts of information from the Old Republic, and even with the New Republic now in charge it was difficult to piece together what you needed. And just like everything else in the galaxy, credits were what opened the doors to getting more data, and being a scholar didn’t exactly leave you rolling in funds.

Other the faint hum of the lights, there was little noise in the archives. A soft, repetitive ‘thump’ could be heard from down the corridor, but you chalked it up to old pipes and vents. Naboo might be a wealthy planet, even by post-Empire standards, but it seemed this space hadn’t quite made it onto the renovation plan yet.

As you continued to watch your data, you noticed that the thump noise seemed to be getting louder. Annoyed, you were just pondering getting up to see where the noise was coming from when the door hissed open and a tall figure stood in the doorway. In the dim light you couldn’t make out many features other than that the person looked vaguely humanoid and was absolutely decked out in silver-grey armor. They sure didn’t look like anyone you knew.

“Uh,” you spoke, clearing your throat. “Can I…help you?” Maybe this guy was lost? No one ever came down here but you unless they got turned around looking for the refresher.

Silence. The man stepped into the room, allowing the door to hiss shut behind him. A sudden pang of unease struck you. Being stuck in an enclosed space with a heavily armored – and armed, you noticed – stranger was not something you were exactly experienced in.

“Do you work here?” The armored man finally spoke. His voice was low, and filtered through the helmet. You raised a brow, and nodded.

“Yeah. Well, technically, I guess.” You were an associate, not yet tenured, but this guy didn’t need to know that.

“Can you read star charts?” He continued. You nodded again.

The armored man pulled out a holo and placed it on the table you were seated at. He pushed a few buttons and the holo switched on and projected a series of star charts. Leaning forward, you hummed quietly as you flicked through them. They were very old star charts from what you could tell - there were planets listed you knew for a fact no longer existed, or at least not by the names they went by now. In addition, the languages used in the charts were a mishmash of several different types, not standardized at all.

“Where did you get these?” You questioned, honing in on a specific system located in the outer rim you had never heard of before. “Some of this data is so old I’m surprised it’s even been uploaded to a digital format. A lot of this stuff only exists in physical archives, repositories-“

“Doesn’t matter,” the man interrupted you. “I’m looking for something important and I need someone who can help me find it.”

Strange, but not unheard of. The university often hosted people looking for ‘things’, and you yourself were in the archives working on finding ways to get the information you needed. Besides, your researched focused on archeoastronomy – ancient star charts were your bread and butter.

“Well,” you mused. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can probably help you find it. Might need the help of a protocol droid deciphering some of this text, though.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you saw the armored man flinch. “No droids.”

Frowning, you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms. “Okay, but it’ll take me a lot longer to parse through this.” Finding the right translations wouldn’t be impossible, but doing it on your own would definitely take time.

“How long?”

Shrugging, you flipped through the charts. “A couple days, maybe?”

“Deal.”

Two days later, you found yourself in the archives again, this time accompanied by the stoic warrior. He had refused to tell you his name, describing himself only as a ‘Mandalorian.’ You had heard of the Mandalorian people before, but had never met one. At least you didn’t think so. First times for everything.

To his credit, he seemed content to sit quietly and let you do your work. It still made you a little anxious knowing that he was packing some heavy weaponry, but the lure of the ancient charts (and the stack of credits he had left on your table) were enough to convince you to help him.

He explained that he was looking for a specific planet with some specific ruins on them. He didn’t know the name of the planet, but had an idea of when it would have last been charted and some significant descriptive factors that helped narrow your search parameters. That was the extent of his commentary on the subject, however. You assumed he was searching for some kind of treasure like the others who often came looking for help with star charts and plotting routes.

It was a little awkward to feel like you were being watched while working, but other than that he was a decent companion for the time being. Sometimes he would clean a weapon, and you sometimes took a break to watch him out of the corner of your eye. You had zero experience with weaponry and the academic in you liked the methodical way he took apart the different pieces and then carefully placed them back together.

Your console pinged quietly, bringing your focus back. Looking at the time, you realized it was later than you had thought and yawned. Standing, you stretched, and shut off the screens you were working on.

“How much longer?” The man asked, and you smiled.

“Impatient, huh?”

Shaking his head, the Mandalorian continued to re-assemble his rifle. “Just…on a schedule,” he intoned.

“Well, I’ve almost got it,” you explained, gathering your things and packing them up. “That last breakthrough really helped. If I can extrapolate the orbital decay along with the trajectory of that supernova that blasted it out of the original system, I can cross reference it with modern star charts and get you a couple potential nav-points. It can be done in another half-day.”

That seemed to be satisfactory and the man did not question further. You bid him goodnight and left the archives, eager to greet your bed.

The streets of Theed were relatively safe and quiet, so you usually felt comfortable walking home alone in the dark. Tonight, however, a chill seemed to hover in the shadows that you weren’t sure was just from the change in weather.

Gripping your pack tighter, you increased your pace as you wound through the side streets that led back to your apartment. A clanking sound from behind you made you whip your head around, eyes wide and heart beating in your throat. You didn’t see anything, but it was very dark and you weren’t going to risk it. Turning back around, you began to run, eager to get to the safety of your building.

You were nearing the end of the alleyway when a figure came out of the shadows to block your path. Skidding to a halt, you swallowed roughly and froze. The figure was cloaked in darkness and you could only make out that they were very large – much larger than you. With shaking legs, you began to back up. Turning your head, you tried to plan your escape and whimpered slightly when two more figures melted out of the darkness and began to stalk towards you.

Looking around desperately, you tried to find your voice to scream, shout for help, anything – but it wouldn’t come. You were trapped, and guessed that the three people closing in on you were not there to play nice. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed that whatever they were going to do to you would be over quickly.

“Hngh!” A rough voice, and then the sound of bones breaking. Opening one eye, you were shocked to see the Mandalorian standing over the body of one of your would-be attackers. Close up, you could see the man’s lifeless eyes under a cap blazened with an imperial insignia. What the hell?

Barely able to even wonder where the Mandalorian had come from, you stood frozen, and watched as the remaining two attackers tried to circle around you both. The armored man had his back to you, and he shifted so that you were behind him, acting like a shield. Fear was still a sting in your heart – even with all that armor, he was still outnumbered.

The two imperials attacked at once, pulling out stunning sticks and knives to rush your protector. To your amazement, the Mandalorian parried their onslaught effortlessly, moving fluidly despite the heavy armor he wore. He didn’t even pull out a weapon of his own – you knew he had plenty, he had cleaned every single one over the past few days – and instead knocked his foes back with hand to hand combat.

One of them managed to get in a lucky hit, and jabbed the Mandalorian in the side with his stunning stick. Not enough to do any real damage, but enough for him to double over briefly before taking the mans arm and bending it far enough back to break it in the socket. It was also just enough time for the other attacker to dash past him and grab you roughly. He panted in your ear as he spun you around, one arm around your throat, the other pointing his blaster at the straightening Mandalorian.

“Give us the charts,” the man breathed roughly, and you winced in disgust at the sound of his voice. “Or I’ll kill the girl.”

“Let her go,” the Mandalorian replied. “She’s not involved.” Your mind spun with a million questions and scenarios and escape plans, and you desperately wished you were anywhere but there. So much for academics being a ‘safe’ career choice.

“Bullshit,” the imperial spat. “We’ve been trailing you for days, and you’ve spent all of it holed up somewhere with her. What, you have a kink for the brainy ones? Spending some time getting your kicks, fucking her-“

With great effort, you managed to move your elbow just enough to jab your captor sharply in the gut. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the Mandalorian to find an opening to block the blaster fire with his grieves and grab the man roughly by the throat. You fell away onto your knees, gasping as the Mandalorian smashed the mans head against the wall and let his limp form drop to join his two friends.

Shaking, you tried to get your bearings. The Mandalorian, after surveying his handiwork, walked over to you and offered you a gloved hand. You hesitantly placed your own in his, and he gently pulled you to your feet.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and you nodded. Other than a bruised knee and a sore collarbone, the only other damage was the lingering adrenaline and fear.

“W-what was that? Who are they?” You choked out. Mando turned his helmet slightly, and in the moonlight you saw a blurry reflection of your terrified face in the gleaming metal.

“Imperial assassins,” he replied. “You’re not safe. We need to get off the planet.”

You blanched. “A-assassins? Why the – why was I just attacked by assassins?!” None of this was making sense.

Mando shook his head, and grabbed your hand again, pulling you along. “I’ll explain later. For right now, we need to leave. There’s probably more on their way.”

Not finding the words to argue with him, you followed in a daze, hand closed carefully in his own much larger one. You vaguely noted that even through the leather it was quite warm. That sensation provided a sense of calming, and you started to ground yourself as the two of you made your way swiftly through the streets.

A few hours later, you sat in the hold of the Mandalorian’s ship. It was a huge pre-empire thing, some model you didn’t recognize. Mando had ushered you up the ramp, and after leaving briefly to set off, rejoined you as the ship drifted quietly outside the range of the planet.

You sat at against a crate, legs pulled up to your chest as your strange savior gave you the short version of his story. Something about a clan, and a debt, and creed. A baby that was under his care and needed to be returned to his kind – an ancient order of wizards or something. Jedi. The name wasn’t unfamiliar, but from your own experience was the topic of more speculation and legend than fact. The star charts? Stolen from the very repository you had been denied access to. The universe had a sense of humor, it seemed.

“That’s why they attacked,” the Mandalorian concluded. “I noticed them following you home the first day, and knew that it was just a matter of time before they made a move. I waited for you to leave and draw their attention so I could take them out.”

You frowned again. Did you understand that correctly?

“You used me as bait?” You asked, crossing your arms. The man shifted uncomfortably in front of you.

“I- well, I guess you could see it that way,” The Mandalorian sputtered. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you-“

You laughed shortly. “No, just let me get cornered by assassins and then sweep me off-planet with nothing but the stuff in my pack.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, and you knew you had made him hesitate. So what if he was a bounty hunter on some sacred quest? You could have gotten a change of clothes, at least.

Letting it go on for a few more beats, you sighed and slapped your hands to your knees. Standing, you put your hands on your hips and looked around. “So. Where do I sleep?”

The Mandalorian tipped his head slightly in confusion.

“For the journey,” you replied. “To the lost planet.”

“You’re…coming with me?” The Mandalorian asked slowly. You nodded in response.

“I haven’t finished the job yet,” you explained. “I still need to refine the results. Besides,” you smiled wryly. “I think I owe you for saving my life…even if it was only in danger because of you in the first place.”

A few hours earlier…

Mando watched carefully from the rooftops, following your form as you weaved your way through the dark city streets. He was careful to keep you in his sights, knowing that sooner or later his targets would make themselves known.

He told himself he was doing this for two reasons. One – he would always take the chance to kill some imps, especially ones trying to find him and take the Child. Two – he would have felt guilty leaving you to a potentially horrific fate for your work in helping him decipher the star charts.

If there was a third reason – the way you chewed your lip when you were deep in thought, or how the lights from the projections made your eyes sparkle – he ignored it. It was just business. Not the way you hummed while you worked, or your clever insights about the ancient movements of lost stars. Just doing the right thing, and sparing his conscience…

Sighing, he tapped his visor, activating the night vision in his helmet. The moon was bright – even from here he could see how it was reflected in your hair – but the alleys you took home twisted and turned and were spotted with dark shadows. He needed to be able to track you closely.

Movement from ahead of you, and a few moments later from behind as well. He couldn’t make out many specifics at this distance, but he knew it was the imperial assassins he had been tracking since he landed in Theed. They were good, to have eluded him for this long – but he was better.

Descending from the rooftop, the Mandalorian began to make his way towards your position. Tonight there would be some casualties, and he was determined to make sure that they didn’t include you.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #all that sciency stuff i just made up don't come for me

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gadgetsking · 2 months

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Elevate Your Viewing Experience with the Sony Bravia 4K Ultra HD Smart LED Google TV X90K (55 inch)

Experience the pinnacle of home entertainment with the Sony Bravia 4K Ultra HD Smart LED Google TV X90K. This 55-inch marvel combines cutting-edge technology, stunning visuals, and intelligent features to deliver an unparalleled viewing experience, making it the perfect addition to any modern home.

Breathtaking 4K HDR Visuals

The Sony Bravia X90K boasts a 4K Ultra HD resolution that brings every scene to life with incredible detail and clarity. With High Dynamic Range (HDR) technology, you'll experience a wider range of colors and brightness levels, making your favorite movies, shows, and games more realistic and immersive than ever before. The TRILUMINOS™ display further enhances the color accuracy, ensuring vibrant and true-to-life visuals.

Advanced Cognitive Processor XR™

At the heart of the X90K is the revolutionary Cognitive Processor XR™, designed to replicate the way humans see and hear. This advanced processor understands how humans focus on specific elements in a picture, cross-analyzing and optimizing hundreds of thousands of elements in a blink of an eye. The result is an incredibly lifelike and immersive viewing experience, with perfect contrast, natural colors, and exceptional clarity.

Google TV™ Integration

Enjoy the best of smart TV features with Google TV™ integration. Seamlessly access a vast array of content, including streaming services, apps, and live TV, all in one place. With personalized recommendations, voice search, and easy access to your favorite apps, finding something to watch has never been easier. Plus, the built-in Google Assistant allows you to control your TV and smart home devices with just your voice.

Smooth and Responsive Gaming

The X90K is a gamer's dream, featuring HDMI 2.1 compatibility, which supports 4K at 120Hz, Variable Refresh Rate (VRR), and Auto Low Latency Mode (ALLM). These features ensure smooth, lag-free gaming with exceptional responsiveness, making it perfect for next-gen console gaming. The Game Mode enhances picture quality while minimizing input lag, giving you the competitive edge you need.

Immersive Audio Experience

Complementing the stunning visuals, the Sony Bravia X90K delivers an immersive audio experience with Dolby Atmos® and Acoustic Multi-Audio™ technology. The strategically placed speakers create a rich, multidimensional soundscape, making you feel like you're right in the middle of the action. Clear, powerful sound ensures you hear every detail, whether you're watching a blockbuster movie or playing your favorite game.

Sleek and Stylish Design

The X90K's sleek and minimalist design blends seamlessly with any home decor. The slim bezels and premium finish add a touch of elegance, while the versatile stand can be adjusted to fit various spaces. Whether mounted on the wall or placed on a stand, the X90K is sure to be the centerpiece of your living room.

Key Features:

4K Ultra HD Resolution: Stunning detail and clarity for an immersive viewing experience.

HDR Technology: Enhanced color and brightness for realistic visuals.

Cognitive Processor XR™: Advanced processing for lifelike picture quality.

Google TV™ Integration: Seamless access to a vast array of content and apps.

HDMI 2.1 Compatibility: Supports 4K at 120Hz, VRR, and ALLM for smooth gaming.

Dolby Atmos®: Immersive audio with multidimensional sound.

Sleek Design: Slim bezels and premium finish for a stylish look.

Conclusion

The Sony Bravia 4K Ultra HD Smart LED Google TV X90K (55 inch) is the ultimate choice for anyone seeking the best in home entertainment. With its stunning visuals, advanced features, and sleek design, it offers an unparalleled viewing experience that will transform your living room into a cinematic paradise. Upgrade your entertainment setup with the X90K and enjoy the future of television today.

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imiya · 4 months

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Gems in MLP Magic Princess Analysis

I've been tracking my gem accumulation for the past 2 weeks and putting them into a spreadsheet. This includes things that can be reasonably considered dailies or things that refresh. I did not include things like pony level-up gems or minecart gems because those are dependent on active rather than passive gameplay.

Here is my pie chart:

Gem shops accounted for the bulk of my gems, giving me 354 of them over the two weeks I tracked. This, of course, would vary according to how many gem shops you actually have. I have put money into acquiring some of these shops, but events have been known to give them out for free. Even if you're a F2P player, you can still benefit from these, and even getting one with a very poor output rate contributes to your daily gem count.

It could also be argued that Critters are a type of Gem shop. This feature tends to net me about six gems per day with a fully upgraded fleet. This feature definitely feels a little later game, as you have to spend quite a while initially upgrading the critters to make them produce gems at all, but I would definitely advise investing as soon as possible to people who don't have these yet. Even just having the pigs and sheep can provide a good steady trickle of gems. Where I'm at with the game, I currently only feed the pigs and cows, but the cows can be much more difficult to acquire.

Events are the next biggest slice here, and this is definitely variable according to which events are going on. We can also count the rewarding fun (monthly ad watches) here. I was tracking during a month of which I already had the monthly ad pony (which nets me 50 gems after watching 81 ads) and the Crowns & Chaos event started to rerun, which is an event I've already completed in its entirety in its very first run. If you have an event that you have none of the prizes for, you will not get as many gems as I have been getting, as you will get characters and shops instead. Characters are arguably worth more than 20/30 gems, so it's worthwhile!

While I believe there is worth in playing the siege/blitz events again even if you already have all of the ponies/shops, I can't say the same for social or special events. I often find that the work you put into these events outweighs the benefits of 12/15 gems, especially seeing as how my gem shops easily make that amount in less than a day. If you're early on or don't mind playing any particular event, though, it doesn't hurt to try. I know I don't mind playing Clear The Skies for a few days every week.

Let's remove those two sections for a moment and focus on the others. Events and Gem Shops are pretty variable depending on where you are in the game and "get gem shops!" is not the most helpful advice when you have no choice but to wait for an event that actually rewards one.

Yowza! This tells me what I already knew, which was that the Group Quests are incredibly lucrative if you have the pro ponies for it. In my opinion, if a pro pony is on sale, it is always worthwhile to purchase them because the sooner you have them, the sooner you will start earning gems back on that pony. Doubly so if the pony is a fixed pro. Pro ponies are actually identified in the shop now with the golden icon, but you can find lists online of which ponies are fixed and which are random. Gem chances for these are random, but with enough pro ponies, you're bound to make some gems.

Also interesting to me is that Klugetown Pop is more lucrative than the daily gems or the pests (parasprites, bats, changelings). This is subject to randomness, too, but Klugetown Pop tokens are given out fairly freely in the group quests. If you can get a helper to gather those tokens, it's best to send them on their task as much as possible. Interesting that the Crystal Balloon Pop didn't even make it on the list, but that balloon pop sucks point blank. Equestria balloon pop likely ranks higher than royal simply because you are able to tap it more often even if the chances for gems are lower.

I'm not going to track my gem count as intensely anymore unless I think something dramatically changes, but it's cool to see a pie chart. I love a pie chart. I also averaged about 50 gems per day according to my tracking, but if you put more active play hours in (really in Minecart is the only thing I can think of as being something where you can get gems by actively playing) you could probably increase your count.

#mlp magic princess #long post

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govindhtech · 4 months

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MSI MAG 271QPX E2 Boasts Gen 3 QD-OLED Panel

A new iteration of MSI’s gaming monitor, the MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2, has been quietly unveiled. Remarkably, one of the first gaming monitors with a brand-new, never-before-released Gen 3 QD-OLED panel is the MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2.

MSI released the MAG 271QPX QD-OLED ($749.99 on Amazon) months ago.MSI monitors use Gen 3 QD-OLED panel with 360 Hz refresh rates and 1440p resolution. Samsung may have secretly debuted a Gen 3 QD-OLED panel with a reduced refresh rate.

MSI has added the MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2 to its US website, although prices are unknown. To the best of their knowledge, the panel is shared by the Gigabyte AORUS FO27Q2 and MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2.

Thus, the MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2 outputs at 1440p with a full panel brightness of 250 nits and a 0.03 ms GtG reaction time. The display also achieves VESA ClearMR 13000 and DisplayHDR True Black 400 standards, peaking with 1,000 nits when watching HDR material (APL 3%) overall.

The MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2 differs from the MAG 271QPX QD-OLED in that it provides a refresh rate of 240 Hz. Nevertheless, MSI offers a three-year warranty against OLED burn-in in addition to its unique fan-less cooling system and OLED Care 2.0 technology.

MAG 271QPX QD-OLED

Strong connectivity possibilities are also offered by two HDMI 2.1 connectors, each of which can handle 48 Gbps of bandwidth. In order to work with PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series S|X consoles, the MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2 supports Auto Low Latency Mode (ALLM) and Variable Refresh Rate (VRR) technology. For further connecting possibilities, please refer to the figure below.

Although the exact release date for any TV or monitor utilizing the Gen 3 QD-OLED panel is unknown, the following is known:

Announcement: In early 2024, Samsung Display made the Gen 3 QD-OLED panel official. Product Availability: These Gen 3 panels were already used in a number of ASUS, MSI, and Dell monitor models that were released in 2024.

As of May 2024, there are a few new Gen 3 QD-OLED displays on the market. Here are two instances:

MSI 271QPX QD-OLED E2.This 27-inch 1440p display with a 360Hz refresh rate is ideal for competitive gamers.

ROG Swift OLED ASUS PG32UCDM4K-resolution 32-inch monitor with 240 Hz refresh rate.

A large, smooth-refreshing display with good quality is ideal for gaming.

Both displays provide deep blacks, rich colours, and fast response speeds.

For tear-free gaming, they support G-Sync and FreeSync.

Consider these extras when buying a Gen 3 QD-OLED display:

Cost: Gen 3 QD-OLED displays are still somewhat pricey and new. These are premium displays, so be prepared to pay more.

Dimensions and Resolution: Gen 3 QD-OLED panels are currently available in 27-inch 1440p and 32-inch 4K sizes.

Select a refresh rate based on what you require. For competitive gamers, a 360Hz refresh rate monitor may be ideal. Professional creatives and casual gamers can handle 240Hz refresh rates.

That’s right! You have cutting-edge display technology. New gaming monitor MSI MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2 has a Gen 3 QD-OLED screen.

Gen 3 QD-OLED Panel has these notable features:

Gen 3 QD-OLED Panel has vivid colours, deep blacks, and 0.03ms GtG for fast-paced gameplay.

1440p (2560 x 1440): Most gamers like this resolution’s performance and clarity.

High 360Hz refresh rate guarantees smooth graphics in tough games.

VESA DisplayHDR True Black 400 boosts contrast and highlights on the monitor.

Ergonomic stands tilt, swivel, raise, and pivot for viewing comfort.

It has two HDMI 2.1 ports, one DisplayPort 1.4 port, a 15W PD USB 3.2 Type-C port, and a 3.5mm headphone jack.

This premium gaming monitor, the MSI MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2, gives competitive players great features and performance.

Gen 3 QD-OLED screens are expensive

Seeing static images for long durations can cause burn-in, as with other OLED screens. For dedicated gamers wanting best performance and visual quality, the MSI MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2 is ideal.

Gen 3 QD-OLED panel gives the MSI MAG 271QPX QD-OLED E2 outstanding specs

Show:

Dimensions: (flat panel) 27 inches

Resolution: WQHD, 2560 x 1440

Type of Panel: QD-OLED Next-Gen (Gen 3)

16:9 aspect ratio

Achievement:

360 Hz refresh rate – The exceptionally smooth images produced by this ultra-fast refresh rate make it perfect for competitive gaming.

Response Time: 0.03 ms (GtG) – This blazingly quick response time reduces ghosting and blurring, making it ideal for action-packed, quick-paced games.

Image Quality:

High contrast, rich blacks, and vivid colours are guaranteed by the VESA DisplayHDR True Black 400 certification, providing an amazing HDR experience.

Excellent colour accuracy is claimed by MSI (precise numbers are not yet available).

Interface:

48Gbps HDMI 2.1 ports – Supports high frame rates (up to 120Hz) for PS5 and Xbox Series X consoles.

DisplayPort USB Type-C (functionality specifics not available yet)

Extras:

For customisation, use the MSI Arsenal Gaming OSD (On-Screen Display).

Compatible with VESA mounts

Technology that doesn’t flicker to lessen eye strain

OLED Care 2.0: A solution developed by MSI to lessen the possibility of OLED burn-in

Read more on govindhtech.com

#MSI #OLEDScreen #OLED #OLEDdisplay #Gen3 #mag271qpx #gamingmonitor #gaming #Monitor #oledpanel #OLEDtechnology #news #technews #technology #technologynews #technologytrends #govindhtech

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xcalableor · 1 month

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Choosing the right Asus ProArt monitor for creative professionals

Investing heavily in our cameras, equipment and peripherals is critical to capturing compelling photos and videos. However, the real challenge comes when we cannot fully understand the quality of our work and our monitoring. Poor color correction and poor image quality can not only damage our reputation, but also lead to opportunities and lost customers. Play the video close the player Many designers believe that getting professional results requires expensive research, powerful workers, and advanced software. Fortunately, an accessible and simple solution is available. Although searching for the perfect monitor can be overwhelming due to the many options available, the Asus ProArt series stands out as a solid choice. Designed for professionals and enthusiasts looking for quality and performance, ProArt offers high-quality, reliable and affordable solutions. With stunning visuals, realistic colors and ergonomic features to improve productivity, comfort and productivity, these monitors meet the needs of a variety of users. Knowing that a monitor is a long-term investment, it may be worth the initial investment. This guide aims to break down the process of choosing the right monitor by providing information on important factors such as size, aspect ratio, resolution, color gamut, refresh rate, connectivity, and more. At the end of this guide, you will have a clear understanding of which Asus ProArt model is best suited for special needs. ProArt method The asus proart series meets a variety of needs by offering monitors in a variety of sizes, from the compact 24-inch PA248QV to the curved 34-inch PA34VCNV. These monitors fit perfectly into any professional setting with their sleek design, narrow bezels and metal stand. Equipped with an anti-glare IPS panel, these monitors offer a wide viewing angle of 178º and deliver an industry-leading level of ΔE < 2, as certified by Calman. In addition, they feature a fast 5ms response time and adaptive sync with variable refresh rates, ensuring smooth and accurate viewing.

#tech

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tallbluelady · 2 years

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X'rhun Tia's Fencing Club for Ladies

Without further ado (because I had promised to post this weeks ago)...

2.8k

Chapter Two: The Leveilleur Estate

Rowan immediately pulled her mother to her closet. She had not thought of what to wear, and trying to strike the right balance between meeting your rich friend and not looking like you were trying to impress them felt far out of reach for the young woman.

"Do you remember what Ms. Leveilleur was wearing after she changed? That may give us a hint as to what her expectations are." Mrs. Argentas read through the letter again. "She seems rather casual about the whole thing, even leaving it as an open invitation."

Rowan stood still for a second. "Twas fashionably cut, but the colors were far more vibrant than what I've seen others wear. She almost matched Mr. X'rhun and his assistant, honestly."

Mrs. Argentas nodded. "Mayhap twould be best for you to wear your newest dress. I feel as though it fits the casual nature of the event without showing the wear and tear you give to your other clothing."

Rowan scoffed. Her other clothing was well kept! Sure, she had to mend them often, but unless you were of a distinctive eye... Oh. She held up the lavender dress.

"I have been saving it for special occasions, haven't I?"

* * * *

Rowan remembered why she had saved this dress for special occasions - it was stiff. Sure, it did appeal to her sensibilities of fashion, but it did nothing for her sensibilities of comfort. But her mother looked so enamored with her in the dress that she complied to wear it to tea that day.

The Leveilleur Estate was only a short walk away from the cottage and the northern climate of Sharlyan made it a refreshing trip, even in her stiff dress. She had just enough time to wonder if she should knock on the front doors when they suddenly opened in front of her.

"Right this way, Ms. Argentas." A well dressed servant bowed.

She followed the servant through an immaculately white and gold hallway. After a half a dozen shut doors, she was lead to a room - it could've been a library for all the books it held - where Alisaie and a few of the other ladies from the Fencing Club sat.

"Rowan! Pray come sit with us!" Alisaie said with a bright smile. "We were just talking about you."

Rowan gave a small smile and chose an empty chair next to Ms. Hext. "What exactly were you talking about, pray tell?"

"Oh, just how well you and Ms. Kahkol fought," a Lalafellin lady said. A Ms. Baldesion, if Rowan recalled correctly.

"Yes! Mr. X'rhun hardly gave you two any corrections on your forms. I felt I had a decent grasp on the footing until you two showed the rest of us up!" Ms. Hext said through a mouthful of biscuit.

"Oh, I'm flattered, thank you." Rowan said, unused to the praise. "Do you know if Ms. Kahkol joining us today?"

"She sent her regards, but said that she had other plans. Actually, she said that she was trying to recruit another lady to the fencing club," Alisaie said.

With that said, the conversation between the members of the Fencing Club continued in a pleasant rate. Rowan never felt overly obligated to contribute, but when she did her topics were actually duly considered. Twas almost bizarre to her how kind the other ladies of the club were to her. Mayhap Gridanian society had been as cruel to her as she was told.

It had only been a bell at most when Rowan heard some sort of commotion outside of the library's doors. Then an Elezen man in Forum garb opened the door, looking rather frazzled.

"Father? I thought we discussed this," Alisaie said, starting to puff up a little.

"We did. But that was before the Garlean dignitary unexpectedly showed up at the docks today." He took a deep breath. "I would not have interrupted your social time for anything less, Alisaie. But we need as few variables as possible while we sort out how we are to host him."

Alisaie gave a grim nod. "Very well. But you will not stop me from attending the Fencing Club."

"You know full well that I could stop you not even if I tried. I've arranged a carriage for Ms. Hext and Ms. Baldesion." Lord Leveilleur paused at Rowan, and it looked as though he was trying to remember if he had ever met her.

"This is Ms. Argentas, father. The one who actually benefited from the carriage yesterday," Alisaie said. "Rowan, this is my father Lord Fourchenault Leveilleur."

Rowan gave a curtsy as she had stood up when he entered the room. Lord Fourchenault nodded back at her.

"Where do you live, Ms. Argentas? Near Ms. Hext?" He started to speak a little quickly in panic.

"Oh, I can simply walk. My home is not far from these premises, Lord Fourchenault," Rowan said.

"Tis true, we drove her quite close to here. Oh, Urianger could escort her, Father!" Alisaie volunteered.

Lord Fourchenault looked fairly relieved at the suggestion, in truth. "That would get him out of the house... Very well, Alisaie, pray fetch Mr. Arugelt. You would likely know better than I where he would be. Ms. Hext, Ms. Baldesion, the carriage is out front."

Everyone nodded and dispersed. Except for Rowan, who had no idea what she was supposed to do, as Alisaie was the first to leave the study. It felt invasive to explore the place on her own, especially in the heightened state that the dignitary had brought. But she also wasn't sure that she should stay in this room either. She eventually grew the courage to try and return to the front. The study had only been down a singular hall, and it wasn't like the place had been enchanted. She had made it to the entrance hall when she saw Alisaie with Mr. Arugelt in tow across from her. She also saw the front door open.

There was plenty of bowing from the servants, so it must have been the Garlean dignitary that Lord Fourchenault was worried about. She could see a knot of servants surrounding an Elezen man and what could have been a large Hyurian man as she ducked behind a corner. The Elezen man must have been Lord Louisoix Leveilleur - Rowan recognized him from the description of an older gentleman with his Archon mark on his forehead. Lord Leveilleur held himself with a calm and charisma that Rowan could see even from the end of the entrance hall.

The other man - likely the Garlean dignitary - however, walked in a hunched posture that Mrs. Argentas would have chided Rowan for holding. He had brown hair with a white streak in the front, messy save to be out of his face. With an opal-like Garlean eye, he was at least from that country.

Alisaie and Mr. Arugelt nigh ran to her when the dignitary's attention was held by Lord Forchenault, a lady, and a youthful Elezen - likely Lady Ameliance and Alphinaud. Lord Forchenault spoke loudly of his "absent" daughter to try and hide her and Mr. Arugelt's steps. As far as Rowan could tell, no one noticed them cross the entrance way.

"What now?" Rowan hissed.

"We could go out the back," Alisaie said. "Or try and slip out here while Grandfather shows him down a different hallway..."

But Rowan stiffened as she felt eyes on her person. The others did too, and they all turned to see the dignitary leisurely ambling over to them while everyone seemed to scramble around him.

"Your erstwhile daughter and her friends, I presume?" he asked in an amused drawl.

"Ah, yes. My daughter Alisaie. The gentleman is a family friend - Mister Urianger Arugelt. And Ms. Argentas is a recent acquaintance of ours." Lord Forchenault tried to remain composed next to the dignitary.

The Garlean man tilted his head at Rowan as they bowed and curtsied. "Do you have a forename, Ms. Argentas, or do they not give those to lower born people here?"

Rowan ran through a gamut of emotions. First, as always, shyness. Second, intimidation at the man's social standing. Third, indignation at the slight he had against her people. The indignation filled her with courage to at least speak aloud.

"Tis 'Rowan', sir," she said in a clear voice. She hoped "sir" was proper enough.

"That doesn't quite have the Elezen ring that I've come to expect. Are you not from Sharlyan?" he asked.

"I hail from Gridania, but Elezen names are similar there as well. My mother was simply fond of the tree and decided to go against fashion when she named me," she explained.

The dignitary nodded, seemingly satisfied at the answer. "Fair enough. Since you were kind enough to grant me yours, Rowan, I shall grant you mine. You may call me Solus."

"Oh, Solus like the emperor." The words spilled out of Rowan's mouth before she could stop herself.

"Ha! You know, I get that a lot." Solus smiled. "Many a young woman in my country were inspired by the heroic acts of our first emperor - long may he reign - and named their sons after him. My mother was such. Mayhap it worked - as I am here meeting such wonderful exotic people as yourself."

Rowan nodded and swallowed. Solus' golden eyes seemed to pierce deep into her soul. She wanted to leave. She knew Lord Forchenault wanted her to leave. Solus - goodness gracious she did not know what else to call him - did not seem keen on her leaving.

"We shouldn't keep Ms. Argentas from her mother," Lord Leveilleur said softly, "Mr. Arugelt, will you please escort her home?"

Mr. Arugelt nodded. "Of course."

"Oh, very well, if it is to support her independent thinking mother... twas a pleasure making your acquaintance, Rowan." Solus gave a mocking smile.

Mr. Arugelt offered his arm and Rowan took to it like a lifeline. They both inclined their heads to Solus then walked as quickly as they could without being considered rude.

The sun had never been so warm, and the breeze had never been so cool as when the pair of them stepped out of the Leveilleur estate and were released from the tension brought on by the Garlean dignitary's presence.

"By Rhalgr, I was fit to faint. That Solus is no ordinary man, is he?" Rowan asked after the large estate doors were shut.

Mr. Arugelt shook his head. "Nay. I am not at liberty to divulge more in the open, but there is far more to Solus het Fidileas than he doth let on. That is of a particular certainty."

"Are most Garlean men so forward? I can understand wanting to at least know a lady's first name, but to use exclusively it after one's first meeting..."

"If the man meaneth to make thee uncomfortable, then I shall take the liberty of removing thee from any conversations with him," Mr. Arugelt said.

Rowan paused at that declaration. "Oh, I... you don't have to be so... ah, chivalrous, Mr. Arugelt. I can handle a little discomfort if the situation calls for it."

"I may have overstepped in that, pray forgive me, Ms. Argentas. But no lady should have to tolerate such slights against her. Tis ignoble to be borne."

"I do appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Arugelt. I am just so unused to it! All of my friends and acquaintances in Sharlyan have been so kind. I did not know the world held so much kindness for me."

He looked hurt at that. The concern in his golden eyes made Rowan blush and she turned away from him.

"I pray that thou wilt know more kindness than harshness, Ms. Argentas. Whether or not thou canst take it, thou deservest a sweeter, more delicate world than the one thou seemest to know."

"Again, I thank you, sir. If I keep my acquaintance with you, then mayhap my world shall be."

It was then his turn to turn in embarrassment. Rowan had yet to let go of his arm, so she turned with him.

"Oh, pray excuse me..." he dropped their arms. "I had not realized..."

Rowan laughed and shook her head. "Tis quite alright. I needed some levity after meeting so many important people."

"Levity is a balm for many hurts, even if it is a one's expense. Not that thou art taking aught in my expense..." Was he flustered?

They walked in silence for a while, but it wasn't awkward. At least, Rowan willed it to not be awkward by remaining calm. They then arrived at the cottage to see Mrs. Argentas tending a few flowers along with Mr. Totolymo.

"Oh, Rowan you're home early. And who might this gentleman be?" she asked.

"Mama, this is Mister Urianger Arugelt. Mr. Arugelt, this is my mother, Alfinne Argentas," Rowan said. "And, ah, are you already acquainted with Mr. Totolymo?"

"That we are, Ms. Argentas, but thank you," Mr. Totolymo said. "I thought you were still on the mainland, Urianger."

"I was but recently. Lord Leveilleur bid me return, and we met the reason why ere we left the estate."

"Oh." Mr. Totolymo's tone turned from casual to worried in one syllable. "So he's here already."

Mr. Arugelt nodded.

"Do we need to cancel my appointment, Mr. Totolymo?" Mrs. Argentas asked.

"If Rowan was there to meet the dignitary, you two may as well hear this conversation," Mr. Totolymo said, "Besides that, your condition will only continue to improve if we are consistent in our treatments."

"Then I'll put the kettle on," Rowan said.

There was no small amount of shuffling and bustling through the small cottage as tea was prepared. Mrs. Argentas' treatments were no small matter for the Lalafellin gentleman, and Rowan had ofttimes given the man enough food to be considered a meal while he was working. Rowan caught herself staring as Mr. Arugelt took her mother's hand in his to mirror Mr. Totolymo's usual pose during treatments.

"Are you trained in the healing arts, Mr. Arugelt?" Rowan asked after shaking her head.

He nodded and Mr. Totolymo smiled at him.

"I daresay that Mr. Arugelt is a far more practiced healer than I am, Ms. Argentas. Your mother's malady is about the only one I can handle with my talents in aetherial manipulation, but my comrade here is far more well versed in the treatment of physical ills as well," Mr. Totolymo said.

While the treatment didn't take half as long - twould disrupt Mrs. Argentas' aether overmuch - it was far less taxing on Mr. Totolymo to have another person to spread the aetherial load. Enough so that he bade Rowan and Mr. Arugelt to tell him every detail of their encounter with the Garlean dignitary.

"Thaliak forefend..." he swore after the two of them took a break. "He's being brazen."

"I'd say! For a man his age to take my daughter's forename in such a manner..." Mrs. Argentas bristled at the thought. "He knows he can't be touched."

"Verily. Though such arrogance leaveth space to be exploited," Mr. Arugelt said.

"True enough, but why do we need any space to exploit in the first place?" Rowan asked. "Garlemald agreed to the armistice after Charteneau."

"Aye, that they did. But -" Mr. Totolymo gave a meaningful glance to Mr. Arugelt, who nodded, "- we have reason to believe that there are more players on the field than just nations. That Solus het Fideleas is working for a higher power than Garlemald."

"Who, pray tell? The Paragons of Eld?" Rowan asked in a jovial tone.

The tension from the two gentlemen as they looked at Rowan caught thick in her throat. She made a few croaking sounds before she could speak again. "Did I trade words with an Ascian?"

"Twelve forefend, no wonder Lord Forchenault wanted you out of the manor..." Mrs. Argentas took her daughter's hand.

"We hath no direct evidence of the man's plans nor his status," Mr. Arugelt said, "but from what intelligence we hath gathered, Solus is but an alias."

Rowan nodded and rubbed her mother's hand worriedly.

"I don't want you two to worry overmuch on this matter," Mr. Totolymo said. "Lord Leveilleur has called the rest of his students back to Sharlyan to deal with this, what ever it may actually be. He may just be a rogue Garlean noble looking for power in these turbulent times. We shall, indeed, keep you apprised of his actions and any information we're able to glean from him."

"If I could be of any help... he really seemed to take a shine to me," Rowan said. "Gods be good, we shouldn't need your help," Mr. Totolymo said. "But I would be loathe to lose your acquaintance if we were to remove you from our circle. So would young Ms. Leveilleur, if I know her half as well as Mr. Arugelt."

"Ms. Leveilleur? Alloweth herself to be bereft of a companion so newly acquainted and so happily made?" Mr. Arugelt shook his head solemnly. "Such things art not fit to be imagined, Mr. Totolymo."

Rowan cracked a smile and a breathy chuckle at the man's dramatic speech. Mr. Arugelt smiled softly at her, then turned to Mrs. Argentas.

"Dost thou feel fit to continue, Mrs. Argentas?"

#x'rhun tia's fencing club for ladies #rowan argentas #urianger #aether and anatomy #chapter 2 babey!!!#emet selch is here too!

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anjumstar · 11 months

Text

Sand Lines Ch3, Thursday

Read on AO3

rating: teen

pairing: bakudeku

word count: 18.1k/40.6k

summary: It wasn’t a vacation. It was only convenient that Katsuki’d managed to trick Miruko into thinking it was.

Katsuki doesn’t need a break. Post-war life has been peaceful. Too peaceful. So under the guise of a vacation, Katsuki heads to the American southwest, the only place where he can do the thing he wants to do the most: blow stuff up. Big time. And it’s all going to according to plan for about five minutes, until Deku comes along. They’ve barely seen each other since graduation last year and Katsuki could, should blow him up for getting in his business yet again. Instead, they learn about post-war life in the way they’ve done everything: together.

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Alamogordo, New Mexico

Twin phone pings raised Katsuki from sleep.

The sun was up, and Katsuki had to squint the room into the cool morning light that wouldn’t melt into yellows and golds until the sun made its way over the mountain. So it was early, but not that early.

“What was that?” Izuku asked as he leapt out of bed, already hunting for which pocket on which disposed pair of pants he’d left his phone in.

“Beats me.”

The two of them had hardly received a single notification between them since being in New Mexico, at least not while they were awake. Most notifications from Japan came in the middle of the night, and, of course, the two of them were always together, so there was no need to text each other. So it was a jolt to get a sound notification, even just after a few days of relative silence.

“It’s a local alert,” Izuku said, phone in his hands and pants still dangling from one finger. He was already reaching for the car keys. “It’s less than a mile away.”

“Then what are you doing without pants on?” Katsuki huffed, yanking a pair on himself.

“Wha—you’re not wearing a shirt!”

Both were immediately rectified, then Katsuki reached for his costume accessories. Perhaps his gauntlets were excessive, but he’d never run into a mission in Japan without them, so why would he here? There were more variables, more unknowns in this place than the place he’d lived all his life and regularly patrolled. He needed all the firepower he had. Katsuki stretched his fingers and noted that they felt fine again. A bit of recovery time was all he’d needed.

They tumbled out onto the motel balcony and down the stairs that shook with each footfall, leaping into the front seats of the SUV. As soon as Katsuki turned the key, he gunned it out of the parking space and headed in the direction Izuku pointed. He switched which hand was on the wheel as he slipped his gloves on.

“It’s a robbery,” Izuku detailed, scrolling between the report and the map. “A jewelry store.”

“Quirks?” Katsuki asked, skidding onto the main road. The weight of the vehicle swung to one side, and Katsuki had to remember how big the damn SUV was, and that one bad turn would have it rolling.

“Don’t know yet—the alarm came from a security system, not a witness,” Izuku said, swiping his hand down to refresh. “Damn, it’s so close, we should’ve just run.”

“No one knows our quirks here,” Katsuki pointed out. “What kind of idiot gives them away on arrival? ‘Sides, I can get us there faster than you can get a damn sentence out.”

Katsuki focused his mind on his quirk, opening his pores to put something, anything into his gloves. It wasn’t particularly hot out yet to get his sweat naturally going. The night’s dehydration made his whole body feel wrung out and hung up to dry in the parched desert air.

“Turn ahead! That’s the spot!”

Katsuki turned a hard right into the turn-off for the complex just before the store. They needed to leverage every bit of surprise they had.

“I hope the coward hasn’t bailed,” Katsuki said, sliding on one gauntlet as he hopped out of the car.

“It’d be hard to give chase here,” Izuku agreed, stepping out without any support item greater than his arm brace.

The land was flat and open, and no one was out on the main streets yet because none of these establishments were open except for one 24/7 fast food joint. So with the bird’s eye view that Float or Katsuki’s explosions afforded them, it could be easy to find someone on the run. But the moment they disappeared, there were no witnesses, no leads, and no security compared to what was set up in the city. The trail would go cold fast.

They stood out of view of the entrance to the jewelry shop. There were so few cars on the road that even theirs pulling in next door could have aroused suspicion. But Izuku’s Danger Sense hadn’t gone off—he would have said so—so they weren’t about to be ambushed. Still, Izuku crept with a level of stealth Katsuki wasn’t known for over to the side to get a sense of the situation.

“There’s one lookout,” Izuku whispered. “No lights on in the store, can’t tell the presence inside.”

“So we grab the lookout, get him to spill about the idiots inside, then restrain them with the intel,” Katsuki rumbled, his low voice never quite managing to fall into a whisper.

“I’ll use Blackwhip and you follow behind.”

“Next to you, not behind!”

Izuku was already moving. One For All didn’t so much as flicker over his skin, but his hands were loose, ready for Blackwhip to release from his wrists.

The land was so open there was no cover on their way to the shop. They couldn’t run and dart around corners, skulk through alleyways like in the city. So Izuku was walking, casually as he could manage—which meant quite stiffly, but no one else would know that his gait was any different—until Blackwhip would be in better range.

The lie would be better if they were side by side, maybe faking a conversation, playing dumb and not knowing that the shop wasn’t open yet. But then again, acting was no more Izuku’s strong suit than it was Katsuki’s. And it was already too late to do something more scripted.

It happened before Katsuki—or the poor sucker playing lookout—knew it. Blackwhip shot out of Izuku’s wrists and immediately one coil was around the guy’s legs, another around his arms, and another around his mouth. One strand was wrapped thinly around his neck, probably to encourage silence. Even with his mouth tied off, a muffled yell in this silent country would carry.

Izuku reeled the guy in like he was a gasping fish on the line. When he was close enough to whisper, Izuku began: “How many of you are there—hold up fingers, don’t speak.”

While Izuku’s voice wasn’t very intimidating in English—the language was all rough edges and harsh consonants, and that wasn’t Izuku—his glowering face as serpentine tendrils sparking with a mysterious energy surrounding him sure was. Or at least it was to this guy, whose eyes had gone wide, face pale as the gibbous moon that was still setting over the side of the mountain.

The lookout held up one trembling finger, and Izuku nodded towards Katsuki. This would be too easy.

Izuku held the lookout in place, keeping one eye on him and one on the shop as Katsuki ran in. Unless this thief had the quirk to end all quirks—which Izuku already had dibs on, to be honest—they’d be no match for Katsuki.

A jewelry shop, filled with tables at waist height did nothing to disguise the patrons who regularly came in, nor the villain who was standing frozen behind one of the displays. Unless he had friends who had immediately hit the deck, there wasn’t anywhere to hide but the locked employee-only offices. Katsuki grinned and put his hands together for an AP Shot.

“Gotcha, idiot.”

Katsuki fired off a mere whisper of an AP Shot towards the guy. A warning shot. Nothing that would injure the thief or the store. Katsuki wasn’t in America to make enemies, after all.

“Fuck!” the guy squeaked as he dodged just enough for the shot to still graze his shoulder, not doing much more besides smudging some soot on his baggy t-shirt.

“There’s more where that came from if you don’t surren—”

But the idiot was already on the move. With one leap, the guy was on the ceiling. Some kind of Spiderman quirk, or maybe a relative to the gecko fucker from the League, God forbid. He was scurrying along the ceiling, and Katsuki’s grin split further, dropping his second hand.

“I never like the easy way either,” Katsuki agreed, spreading his hands apart and pointing them at his moving target. “See how you like this one!”

Katsuki shot a Stun Grenade at the thief, light dancing behind his eyes for a few moments despite closing his eyes against the attack. There was a cry above his head, but before he was able to blink away the spots and gauge his opponent, he was touched on the arm, and everything changed.

The air conditioning of the shop was suddenly gone and he was back in the morning heat of the outdoors. It was obvious from the temperature to the smell to the soft earth beneath his feet that he’d been teleported, and Katsuki instantly thrashed his arm out, hoping to connect with whoever had touched him. He hated teleportation quirks. Who knew where he was now?

“Sir, stop, I’m a hero too—”

“Fuck off—!”

“Kacchan, it’s okay, it’s a hero!”

Katsuki blinked Izuku into view. His hair, bright green in the morning sun, appearing to him first. Okay, so he hadn’t been brought far. Then his vision cleared enough to see the Blackwhip coils that were still wrapped around the lookout. At that, Katsuki whipped back towards the storefront just to see a woman leading the wall crawler out with nothing more than a hand pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Sorry to surprise you,” a woman—presumably a hero, though there was no telling since she didn’t seem to be in any particular costume—said as she came in front of Katsuki. “Your power was just more than what was needed.”

Ah, screw her. He’d been using hardly a pinky finger’s worth of power. Especially compared to the big blasts he’d been letting out since he got here.

“What’s the protocol?” Izuku asked. He’d released the strands of Blackwhip that had been around the lookout’s neck and mouth, and the other strands were considerably looser as well.

“The police are on their way and’ll handle it from there,” the woman with the teleportation quirk answered. She had long, hair pulled back with nothing more than a hippy headband—absolute amateur hour for combat. “It’s up to the shop owner if they wanna press charges.”

Despite the sprawl of land and the fact that Katsuki hadn’t seen a police station during any of their drives, the cops showed up in no time. They hadn’t even turned on their sirens for the lack of traffic. Or maybe it was a small-town courtesy to those who were still sleeping. They took the wannabe thieves and that was that. The morning was quiet once more.

“How did you know that they weren’t threats?” Izuku asked, always incapable of not asking questions when a new hero was around.

“We didn’t,” Headband answered. “We had the same information as you. But they weren’t fighting back offensively, and most of the calls we get aren’t especially violent these days.”

At that moment, Katsuki noticed the crow’s feet walking behind both women’s eyes. The streaks of gray in their hair. They weren’t in their twenties or even thirties. They were middle-aged.

“Sorry, what are your hero names?” Izuku asked, still on his roll. “I’m Deku, and this is Ka—Dynamight.”

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” Katsuki corrected.

“We know who you are.” The other woman smiled, deep laugh lines around her mouth. Katsuki might have expected more frown lines, like the ones he was already getting between his brows. But hers was a face that must have smiled ten times for every frown. “Top Japanese heroes, right? I’m hero Tap ‘n Go, and this is Water Foul.”

Water Foul demonstrated her quirk, spitting water out of one hand that disappeared upon hitting the other.

Katsuki frowned. “Those are the stupidest names I’ve ever heard.”

“Is that right, Great Explosion Murder God?” Water Foul asked.

“Yeah, you sound like a joke.”

“I think they make us approachable,” Tap ‘n Go replied. “Not too austere. Not too serious.”

It was hard for either of them to look too serious in their current getups. Aside from the turquoise bandana that Tap ‘n Go wore, both women were wearing ill-fitting boot-cut jeans probably with actual cowboy boots underneath, and Tap ‘n Go donned a blousy button-down while Water Foul had a lame bedazzled t-shirt. His parents would weep. At least Water Foul had shorter hair, but every part of Tap ‘n Go’s outfit was screaming to be grabbed with a fist to yank her and throw her off her feet. Approachable was one way to put it.

“I agree!” Deku exclaimed, and of course he would. “You’re very approachable!”

“Well, we didn’t mean to hijack your save,” Tap ‘n Go offered, and Katsuki tried to keep his temper tamped down. It wasn’t Japan, this wouldn’t affect ratings, and anyway, it had just been two youngsters pulling a lazy heist. “Folks around here aren’t used to heroes with as much firepower as Dynamight and Deku.”

“So what do you do then?” Katsuki challenged. “Didn’t think America would have wimpy heroes.”

“Oh, we’re not wimpy,” Water Foul shot back, smacking her fists together, not unlike Kirishima. “We could wipe the floor with you young’uns any day. We just do things different ‘round here is all.”

“Yeah, I imagine that being roaming heroes—”

“Hold it, Deku,” Katsuki interrupted, his focus intent on the two women. “You think you could beat us?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Those smile lines came again, deep crevices around the mouth as Water Foul smirked at Katsuki. It brought out the fine lines on her forehead, those eyebrows lifted in challenge. Still, her eyes sparkled with energy—maybe these heroes were bummed out that the bust hadn’t been bigger too.

“Where can we let loose?” Katsuki asked.

Water Foul and Tap ‘n Go looked at each other and laughed.

“Have you seen this place?” Tap ‘n Go asked. “Anywhere empty is fair enough. I’ll have us there in a second.”

She raised one hand, hinting toward her quirk. The name implied that all she had to do was touch someone and both of them would go wherever she wanted, just as had happened in the jewelry shop. Katsuki had no idea if it extended to just herself or objects as well, and now that the challenge had been extended, he wasn’t sure that she’d give up her advantage and just tell him. But he knew enough for the moment.

“Fuck that. Get in the car—I’m driving.”

Somewhere off of Route US-70, Otero County, New Mexico

“Just find a bit o’ shoulder that won’t puncture a tire,” Tap ‘n Go advised. “You wouldn’t believe how quick we go through tires in this country.”

Katsuki did believe it. Between the cacti and the bits of asphalt that had simply sloughed off the road to the broken glass that, as it turned out, wasn’t just for city streets, yeah there were a lot of hazards. And probably no regular road cleaners either.

“I got it,” Izuku said, leaning out the car window as Katsuki began to slow down with his hazards on. No one was behind him, nor would be for quite a while in all likelihood.

Izuku pointed one hand out the window, and circled the other hand around his thumb and forefinger, not so different from how Katsuki positioned his AP Shots. And then he used the barest bit of Air Force, just like he had in his earliest days at UA, but sparing the bones in his finger now. Dust puffed everywhere, and it was only thanks to the strength of Izuku’s move that they didn’t drive right into it.

“Park there!” Izuku exclaimed once he was back in the car, gesturing towards the land he’d just cleared.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki muttered out of reflex as he slowed the car down and bumped it onto the shoulder, right up against the chain-link fence that they were all about to jump.

“Technically this land is privately owned,” Tap ‘n Go said as she stepped out of the car. “But I know the two of us can get this done without destroying so much as a single yucca. Can you?”

“Won’t destroy anything but the smug look on your face,” Katsuki declared as he leaped over the fence without so much as a pop from his quirk.

“Hoo hoo, big talk!” Water Foul exclaimed. “I’ll promise the same.”

“Okay, let’s talk rules,” Tap ‘n Go said, clapping her hands as they hiked further from the road. “Yes, quirks, one round, a hero’s down when they’re pinned for five seconds. Two on two, obviously. When one hero’s down, that team loses.”

Katsuki looked over to Izuku for confirmation. Izuku liked to spar as much as the next guy—perhaps even more than most other heroes, just because he was totally batshit about anything to do with heroics—but he hadn’t agreed to this pissing match Katsuki had gotten them into. However, one look at Izuku’s expression of steely focus, the kind he’d always worn before coming up with a kickass plan in battle class or even that Katsuki had caught a couple times these last few days in the desert. That told Katsuki all he needed to know.

“No accessories,” Katsuki said, taking off his gloves. He’d already removed the one gauntlet, as it was hard to drive with it on, and he emptied all other grenades from his pockets. It was just him and his hands.

“Fair’s fair,” Tap ‘n Go agreed, gesturing at her clearly accessory-less body.

Even though there probably weren’t any accessories that would advantage her quirk, any hero could make use of general support equipment. Aizawa’s capture weapon, for instance, or even Izuku’s thick-ass shoes. Any hero could wear stuff to make their hits harder or their body go further. But, likely since these heroes never knew when they’d be called into battle, they didn’t seem to wear anything to their advantage. They’d learned how to fight without, but hey, Katsuki knew how to do that too.

“One minute to strategize,” Izuku haggled.

“Done,” Water Foul agreed. The two women kept walking deeper into no-man’s land while Izuku and Katsuki planted themselves.

“You know who they are?” Katsuki asked. Izuku had notebook pages covering nearly every Japanese hero, but Katsuki wasn’t sure if that insanity had gone global yet.

“No more than you do,” Izuku shook his head. “It’s gonna be hard to pin Tap ‘n Go. No matter how good a hold is, presumably she can just teleport away. Blackwhip isn’t even any good.”

“So we go for Bird Bath as our target for victory and keep Metro Pass at bay,” Katsuki surmised. “We’ll figure it out on our feet as we unpack her quirk.”

“We might have to,” Izuku agreed. “I don’t think we should play to knock out, but it might be the only way to pin her if it comes to it.”

“If you don’t wanna do it, I will, chicken,” Katsuki said, letting off one pop in his hand. He had to get her back for how she’d teleported him earlier, after all.

“How are your hands?” Izuku asked.

They were actually feeling alright. The massages had helped, but the time off had done wonders. Right now, and even back at the jewelry store, he’d felt like one-hundred percent. He wasn’t totally sure if that would continue once he was attacking in earnest, but he certainly wasn’t concerned. So there was no reason for Izuku to be either.

“That doesn’t sound like strategy to me, idiot,” Katsuki snarked, but their time was already up. The other heroes were done talking and facing them down for battle.

“Let’s do this,” Izuku said, powering up One For All. The energy caused his t-shirt to sway in its wind, reminding Katsuki of his power. It was easy to see when he was dressed as Hero Deku, saving civilians with a smile, but this Izuku, with One For All snaking between the tiny holes at the seams of his cotton shirt, was the Izuku he’d always known. Reminding him of the power and muscle and experience that lay just underneath that cotton impression. He was an Izuku who could do it.

Katsuki fired off with a blast, marking the top of the battle. He took off skyward towards Water Foul while Izuku ran across the unsteady terrain. Despite how dead the region seemed, every few centimeters of red dirt held another little patch of grass, embarrassing itself with its want for survival. They made hills in the earth that were just begging for an ankle roll or a full-out, face-planting trip. All the more reason to be in the air.

But Tap ‘n Go was quick, anticipating Izuku’s speed and appearing right in front of him, only to disappear with him a moment later. And Katsuki couldn’t waste time whipping his head around looking for him, so he continued with his target. At least now they knew for sure that Tap ‘n Go could teleport just herself as well. But maybe she couldn’t teleport into midair.

Another good reason to be airborne. Katsuki could almost swear he was going faster in the dry air than the thick, humid soup of Japan. He was descending towards Water Foul when she blasted both hands down at the ground and rose above him, landing a kick square on his back.

Katsuki fell to the ground with a thud, hopefully avoiding any cactuses, but he didn’t have the time to make a needle-related inventory while Water Foul was right above him. She threw both hands behind her back and fired two handfuls of water, accelerating her back towards the ground.

Her arms, her body, her technique looked just like his.

Katsuki rolled away and sprang back up, as Water Foul directed a spray of water where he’d just been. The water sprayed from her hands but disappeared the moment it touched the ground. It didn’t soak in or splash or evaporate. It just vanished.

Water Foul came at Katsuki as he analyzed her quirk, suddenly in close enough range to try a quirkless punch. But Katsuki was faster, and blocked her arm, unleashing a close-ranged explosion when he made contact. That threw her off balance and she tumbled sideways but didn’t fall. Despite her age, she was strong and quick and her quirk was solid. She’d taken his focus well and truly enough that he had absolutely no clue where Izuku and Tap ‘n Go were. They hadn’t drawn boundaries for the match, so that could be a problem. There was no out-of-bounds disqualification.

Katsuki’s next explosion was larger, bursting over the short distance that now stood between him and Water Foul. She was facing him, though, and pointing both hands at him to release a torrent of water at the blast. Her move wasn’t as broad as Katsuki’s—either the water couldn’t spread far, or it just wasn’t concentrated enough when it did so, like a thumb on the mouth of a hose turning a powerful spray into a sprinkle.

Just then, Izuku was racing across Katsuki’s vision, green sparks drawing his eye immediately as he tried to out-speed a teleporter. He made attempts to lash Tap ‘n Go with Blackwhip, and even connected a few times, but they weren’t building up a lot of damage.

Suddenly, Izuku lunged, almost too fast for Katsuki to see. He must have had Fa Jin stored up in his legs, because he was on Tap ‘n Go before even she could react. They tumbled to the ground, a plume of dust rising around them. Before Katsuki could begin counting off, he was tackled too, getting a mouthful of that same smokey topsoil that he’d just seen rise like steam from boiling-hot land.

But he wasn’t going down like that.

Katsuki rolled, this time definitely passing over rough desert flora, his bare arms stinging at the scrapes and punctures. But he wasn’t held, not even for one second, as he rebounded onto his feet and shot a blast right to Water Foul’s face. She coughed reflexively, and that gave Katsuki enough time to land a punch to her stomach. But, now at close range, she was able to grab both his hands, and wash his sweat right off. His hands were dry—the way her quirk worked, not even a drop of water lingered. His fuel was gone.

He opened his pores, his control and the heat enough for a little to trickle back rapidly, but they’d already been fighting for a little while, and he hadn’t drunk any water since last night. He was on low.

The next thing he knew, he’d been tackled again, but it wasn’t Water Foul. Tap ‘n Go’s long hair dangled over him as she held his arms and dug a knee into his thigh. His hands were facing up, so he was about to blast her to kingdom come when Water Foul came in again and let loose a continuous torrent on his hands. She was grinning as she nodded her head to a beat. Five. Four. Three.

Katsuki strained against the hold. Even if these two women were strong for their ages, he was in his goddamn prime. He should be able to overpower just about anyone, even with one hand tied behind his back. Even with both. But as his upper body lifted off the ground, nearly toppling Tap ‘n Go, Water Foul stepped both feet on his forearms, tendons twinging and protesting against the full weight as the timer counted down.

Two.

One.

Fuck.

Katsuki groaned as his head thumped to the ground and he gave up the struggle. Blood rushed back into his hands as Water Foul stepped off and Tap ‘n Go followed.

“Kacchan!”

Izuku’s voice was like an incoming train, tooting increasingly loudly as he ran at top speed to skid to a stop in front of Katsuki. Tap ‘n Go must have teleported him far enough away that he couldn’t interfere. The run and the fight itself had left him covered in sweat. It made his perpetually too large shirt cling to his body like a muscle tee, and a drip fell from the tip of his nose to land on the scorched earth below.

“Shit,” Izuku said, echoing Katsuki’s thoughts. Putting two and two together was easy when the two older heroes were standing tall like saguaro cactuses owning the flatlands and Katsuki their meager shadow on the ground.

“Damn, I wish we’d bet something,” Water Foul crowed, reaching a hand down to help Katsuki up. Katsuki ignored her and pushed himself upright. He tried to brush some of the dirt off of himself, but when he reached his arms, a sting followed in the wake of his hands. There were probably some cactus needles making a home in his sunburnt skin.

“Just an ole fashioned spar is enough fun for us, Water Foul,” Tap ‘n Go said. “Right boys?”

“Yes!” Izuku agreed, the defeat not seeming to bother him. Perhaps because he hadn’t been the one pinned like a fragile butterfly to a corkboard. “I have so many questions about your quirk!”

“That’s nice, why don’t we get coffee?” Tap ‘n Go suggested. “It’s still early morning.”

“Aren’t you on duty?” Katsuki asked.

Tap ‘n Go and Water Foul exchanged a glance and laughed. Katsuki prickled, and not just because of the flora in his skin.

“So much you don’t know,” Water Foul said.

Maybe he’d need something stronger than coffee.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

There were only two coffee shops in town. A Starbucks and a Starbucks drive-through.

The matcha in America was criminal. Whatever had happened to those wannabe jewelry thieves couldn’t be nearly as bad as what the sugar-coated, diabetes-inducing, sugar high-sugar crash one-two punch this beacon of capitalism was hawking. Katsuki pushed it across the table as the middle-aged heroes talked. Izuku stared at them with wide eyes, fists clenched under his chin as he nodded with every quirk nuance divulged. He was probably dying for a notebook.

Katsuki got up, tossed his full drink in the trash and grabbed a blue waiter’s notepad from the cashier. The pages were small enough that Izuku would probably fill the whole thing in just a few minutes, but it was something. Katsuki didn’t quite know why he’d grabbed it for Izuku, but he’d already dropped the thing by Izuku’s drink with a stolen pen before he could interrogate himself about it.

“Howddya keep up when you’re so old?” Katsuki butted in as he sat back down. Izuku might have given a disapproving frown, but he was already busy scribbling on the notepad, having burst out a Kacchan, sugoi! as thanks.

Meanwhile, Tap ‘n Go was surprised with comically wide eyes, and Water Foul was choking on her beverage. Whether because of laughter or a gasp of shock, Katsuki didn’t care—he was happy either way.

They all recovered quickly as Izuku paved the comment over, saying, “Yeah, how have you managed to have such staying power? Or have you not been heroes for very long?”

“Did it taste like we haven't been heroes for a long time?” Water Foul asked, directing a smirk at Katsuki. Katsuki scraped his teeth with his tongue, trying to get the last of that horrid beverage’s taste out of his mouth.

“So how have you done it?” Izuku asked. “We don’t have many heroes beyond their thirties except for All Might and Endeavor.”

Water Foul gestured to the window. “Look around. There aren’t too many big bad wolves here. We don’t get overworked. We get to do other things besides stress all the time. We just had to luck out and not get injured.”

“Be skilled enough, and lucky enough, to avoid injury,” Tap n’ Go amended.

“But aren’t you…” Izuku shrunk a little. His shoulders, so much bigger than they were even just a couple years ago, were hunched over, as if hiding from the words he was trying to say. “…Aren’t you…bored?”

“What’s there to be bored with?” Tap ‘n Go asked. She began ticking off her fingers. “Got an exciting job. Friends. Family. I travel a lot. Obviously. Hobbies. Community.”

“Between those and the daily doctor’s visits for how horribly old we are,” Water Foul continued, “there’s no time to be bored.”

“That’s being a hero too, though,” Tap ‘n Go insisted. “Knowing your neighbors, having community, being an active person in society. All of that contributes to society’s health in a way that being a hero doesn’t.”

“Seeing a hero implies that you’re safe,” Water Foul added. “But it also implies that there’s something to be safe from. It doesn’t necessarily increase citizens’ trust in each other or their feeling that society is healthy.”

“Society is healthy if people aren’t living in fear of each other,” Tap ‘n Go continued, taking the baton back. Clearly this was a conversation the two women had gone over before, if not to an audience than at least with each other. “If the people feel like they can trust each other and rely on each other. And those bonds are created by everyday actions. Not heroic rescues.”

“It’s enough to just be a person sometimes,” Water Foul concluded. “And to be safe doing just that.”

Even though Katsuki had only been Dynamight for a few years, it felt like ages since he’d been just Katsuki without Dynamight imprinted on the backside of his coin. Maybe since his quirk had manifested. That’s the last time he’d been just a person. Just anything.

He looked at Izuku. Those had been the best times between them up until recently. Maybe he’d had some things figured out back when he was a just that he didn’t have now. Besides the entitlement and the assholery.

Izuku, of course, had only gotten his world-changing quirk a few years ago, yet it was hard to say that he’d ever been a just. To Katsuki, he never had been.

“How do you do that?” Izuku asked the women. “Even if we’re out of uniform, we still walk around as heroes and people know us. How do we be neutral?”

“People will recognize you, it’s true,” Tap ‘n Go said. “So you’ll have to figure out what being just a person is for you, regardless of what other people think. And you’ll be a better hero when you do.”

A better hero.

Well, that’d always been a good motivator.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

They were still in the parking lot thirty minutes later.

Tap ‘n Go and Water Foul had disappeared back to wherever they’d come from with a hand on a shoulder and a flicker of light. Or perhaps they’d gotten another alert that was out of bounds of what Izuku and Katsuki could see, somewhere where only a person with a teleportation quirk could go. And despite still having half the day in front of them, Izuku and Katsuki had set up shop in the rental car.

The first aid kit—also from Walmart—that Katsuki had stocked in the car was splayed over the center console and the wrapped set of tweezers had been ripped open. In Katsuki’s periphery, Izuku had one eye shut as he focused on Katsuki’s arm, plucking yet another needle out of his bicep.

“Sorry,” Izuku said reflexively, as he had for each pull, as though he wasn’t the one doing Katsuki a favor. “I’m almost done.”

Katsuki wasn’t sure which curdled the sweet matcha in his stomach more: the pity in the apologies or the act of committing a favor itself. Either way, having Izuku so close, so focused on him made him squirm internally in a way that required deep breaths to maintain his stoicism.

It was strange, being touched by someone else. It wasn’t something Katsuki often allowed outside of a clinical setting, and he was hyper-aware of the fact that Izuku didn’t fall under that umbrella, even if that was more or less the service he was providing in this moment. But the sustained balancing touch of Izuku’s wrist against the warmth of Katsuki’s inner elbow, the puffs of breath as he looked close—it burned more than the stings from the cactuses.

“Last one, I think,” Izuku said, plucking one from up near Katsuki’s shoulder, moving toward the tender skin of his underarm. His breath moved up towards Katsuki’s neck, blistering hot against the air conditioning blasting through the car. “That’s it. I’m just gonna wipe everything down with an alcohol wipe, but if it feels like anything’s still sticking out, let me know.”

Katsuki said nothing as Izuku tore open a pouch with alcohol soaked wipes. He didn’t say that he could do the wipes himself, since he didn’t have to see in order to wipe himself down. He didn’t say that there were any remaining pricks, because there were none. Izuku had gotten them all. And he didn’t say to stop because of the pain, not just because it was manageable, but because it was barely on his mind. And he wasn’t sure what the noise in his mind was.

When Izuku started down the second arm, the rain began. And when it started, it came down hard.

“Wow,” Izuku said, squishing the wipes in his fist as he looked at the clear sheets dripping down the windows. The outside world that had been so vast and clear a moment ago was smeared flat.

“The fuck is this?” Katsuki asked as Izuku pulled away.

“It probably comes in short, heavy bursts,” Izuku offered. “We should wait it out.”

The car chilled significantly as the minutes passed. The sun was completely cloaked, and Izuku clicked the high AC down to medium, then down to low. Their breath fogged the windows, obscuring the world even more to them. The isolation, the silence, the lingering smell of antiseptic in the car—it was strange. Off. Katsuki didn’t like it. So he flicked on the window wipers, the recirc for the fog, and wrenched the car into reverse.

“Kacchan?”

“It’s spitting distance away,” he said. “We’re Japanese. Rain won’t stop us.”

“But driving will!” Izuku squeaked.

Pulling out, the rain hadn’t yet made the road too different. No tires squealing, no wild turns. It was just impossible to see, even with his headlights on. It was luckier than ever that there were hardly any other cars around. The hardest part might just be seeing the hotel sign for the turn instead of blowing past it.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain here,” Katsuki grumbled, trying to keep the hold of his fingers loose on the wheel. Echoes of the past days’ pain had returned after the battle, but it wasn’t much worse than a usual day. He could go back to the range tomorrow no problem.

“I suppose it’s good luck when it does,” Izuku said, looking out at the downpour like it was some kind of miracle, and not the nemesis of Katsuki’s quirk every rainy season.

“Don’t look so damn flabbergasted,” Katsuki griped as he pulled the car into the parking spot. Easy. Spitting distance. “It’s gonna rain more than half the days this month back home.”

“It’s different here, Kacchan,” Izuku insisted, stepping out and taking a deep breath. “Smell that.”

Katsuki did, and was hit with a chest full of dirt. Dry, craggy dirt that after a long drought, was finally having a drink. Surprisingly, it smelled…

“Amazing,” Izuku decided as he let out the breath and drank it in again.

In the distance, lightning struck, but it was impossible to tell if it was one kilometer away or twenty. The whole world was gray, with thicker sheets in the distance being proof of real downpours and doing absolutely nothing for Katsuki’s depth perception. It must have been pretty far, though, because it was a few seconds before thunder rumbled through the valley, knocking against the mountains and booming back down like the gods stomping their feet.

“The atmosphere is so thick,” Izuku murmured as Katsuki nearly choked on the petrichor. “There’s so much energy.”

Aside from the smell—which here was so earthy and rich, while in Japan it smelled mostly of steam evaporating from concrete sidewalks and roads—the storm did have a different feeling too. Perhaps it was because Katsuki could see the whole thing for as far as the storm stretched, or maybe because it changed the atmosphere of the desert more than it ever would a humid island. But Izuku was right. The only thing that had ever felt similar was being close to Izuku while One For All charged across his skin, thickening the air with something potent, something powerful.

“It feels like…” Izuku started, looking up the way they’d come, the tip of the mountain they’d just been climbing now having been consumed by clouds, “It feels like something could happen. Anything could happen.”

The storm cleared off before there were even puddles on the ground. The rain on the sidewalk was already evaporating, making the world smell even more like ozone and opportunity.

And it didn’t go away, even when the sidewalk was dry again and they’d gone inside to get changed. The feeling still lingered.

Anything could happen.

#anjum writes #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbk #dekubaku #ktdk #katsudeku #bkdkbk #bakudekubaku #dkbkdk #dekubakudeku

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