#when these things target Little Ghost I scream and scramble around trying to avoid them

[manathefandommantaray]

I overcame my fear of the Flukemons from Royal Waterways

And now, here comes a new HK enemy for me to fear:

HIVE SOLDIERS

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: You kids ready for a firefight? I'm talkin' Yojimbo, bringing a knife to a gun fight levels of firefight. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @renegademustelid @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst @kylolover96 @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @lukesrighthand @hoodedbirdie @lackofhonor @thyestean-feast @oh-no-who-am-i

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

You walked through the night and on into the next day, only stopping briefly for short breaks or to halfheartedly gnaw at a tasteless ration bar. You hadn't actually meant to go for so long without a proper rest, but it was as though your legs had a mind of their own. You just kept putting one foot in front of the other, studiously avoiding the thoughts that threatened your fragile emotional state.

When you finally arrived at the city gates as the sun was setting, you were momentarily confused to see two stormtroopers posted there. Oh, right. That message mentioned something like this.

"Chain code." One of them ordered as you approached, his scanner already out.

"Uh." Your voice rasped dryly and you winced, clearing your throat. "Um, let me…" You wearily dug through several of your pouches before you finally located the battered card, holding it out to the trooper. He scanned it silently, held it up to the light, and then handed it back with a nod. 

"Don't cause any trouble, drifter." His modulated voice sent a sad little tremor of familiarity through your body. You trudged past the sentries, feeling exhaustion burn at your eyes. Maker, you could use a nap. What time was it? 

Slogging your way through the sand, you waved to a few people you did recognize, well on your way to sleeping wherever you stopped next. The sheer number of stormtroopers around was something that you knew you ought to find concerning, but at the moment you couldn't muster up the ability to care.

Aside from that, this was normal. This was what you knew, comfortable in its familiarity. The clunky droids, the sand in your boots, the whirring grind of hoverskiff engines.

Normal. 

You finally landed beneath a rare unoccupied overhang in an alley, your small pack clutched to your chest as you curled up on your side in the sand. 

Normal.

This was what you had wanted to return to when all of this started out, you reminded yourself sternly while you wrapped up in your cloak. Stability. Safety. Work. 

Why did your chest ache so much?

Your shoulders heaved as you sucked in a breath, the pack you held seeming too heavy. The child hadn't been heavy at all. Negligible, even. You wondered where they would go after all of this was sorted out, whether the Mandalorian would come back regularly once the Guild was reinstated and his record was expunged.

The galaxy would keep on spinning, despite your weary ruminations.

I'll never see him again, will I? Him or the child.

Overhead, the stars began to reveal themselves one after another as night descended upon the small city, and you slowly lost the fight with the tears that you had been holding back since you left the cockpit.

This is the Way. 

...

A dull rumble roused you from your uneasy slumber, and you briefly feared that there was a storm coming. The beaming sunlight seemed to contraindicate that notion, though. You squinted upwards, trying to gauge the time. It would appear that you had slept through the night; if you had to guess, you would say it was nearly noon.

Your stomach growled and you sat up slowly, digging around in your pack for the bar that you had forsaken the day prior.

A black ship roared by overhead and your eyes widened, certain that-- 

What the hell was that?! You pinched the skin of your inner arm, then swore loudly at the pain. Several more rumbles echoed through the streets, and now you could dimly pick up the rattle of automatic blaster fire. Armed conflicts were not unheard of, but never on a scale like this. It sounded like a full-blown invasion!

You scrambled to your feet, your pack abandoned on the ground. After a moment of hesitation where you thought better of whatever it was that you planned on doing, you set off running towards the commotion. 

The ruckus seemed to be moving steadily in the direction of the town cantina. Your own path took you parallel to the main thoroughfare and after a few moments, you caught a fleeting glimpse of the IG unit zipping past. 

What? 

You skidded to a stop, then changed direction to emerge out onto the main road. It was IG-11, the spindly droid astride a speeder bike taking out stormtroopers left and right. "IG!" You yelled, waving your arms to get its attention.

The droid didn't pause in its fire even as it greeted you, eyes rotating to catch any and all encroaching threats. "There has been a change in the plan." IG-11 said calmly. "Kuiil has been terminated. I would advise you to pick up a weapon and assist me in defending the child."

Kuiil has been terminated. Your heart broke, but you barely had time to register the grief. "You have the baby?!" You gasped, noticing the pack around the droid's torso as you did. 

"Of course. I have been programmed to protect."

You rushed to yank free one of the plastoid armor sections from a fallen stormtrooper, ending up with the whole sleeve shucked off in your hands. It was no beskar, but hopefully it would help. You had seen the Mandalorian defend his head by simply shifting his shoulder. If you used that same technique, you might be able to get away with lugging less armor along. 

You pulled the armor up over your shoulder, the black body-sleeve gripping your bare arm tightly. A standard-issue blaster settled into your hands, clunky and unfamiliar but you would make it work. You had no real choice in the matter. You nodded stiffly up at the IG unit, who revved the speeder bike. "I cannot wait for you. It is imperative that I make my way forward with haste." The droid informed you.

"I get it. You go on, I'll follow." You replied, reaching out for one indulgent second to cup the baby's cheek. They were simply watching silently from the satchel, those huge eyes looking slightly dazed. A bruise darkened the skin over their left eye. "Take care of them. Please."

"Of course." IG-11 sped off in a cloud of dust and you squared your shoulders. 

Well. You couldn't say that a plan not going properly was anything new. 

You trailed along after the capable droid, striding across the sandy streets with renewed purpose. Few stormtroopers escaped IG-11's blaster shots and if they did, your own soon finished them off. Every pull of the trigger was pragmatic, removed from you but still holding weight. You refused to dwell on the carnage at this moment. Later, there would be time. Just like for Kuiil. Time to grieve, time to process...

You checked your ammunition and kept moving, your eyes scanning the sand clouds ahead. You were approaching the town square, the locale of the cantina which served as the hub for the Guild on Nevarro. Blaster shots lit up the dust, red lines crisscrossing again and again. It sounded like the fighting was at its thickest here. 

You forced your legs to keep carrying you forward when an explosion rippled through the air like thunder, refusing to be immobilized by your fear (no matter how much you wished you could be!). Your shaky fingers shoved a new canister of blaster gas into your pilfered rifle as you peered around the corner of the closest structure, trying to make sense of the chaotic scene in front of you through the haze of dust and smoke.

Stormtroopers scattered to and fro, their ranks disjointed. You kept to the edge of the square, doing your best to avoid the fray that raged in the center. Not exactly a difficult task, seeing as the only person everyone had it out for was an achingly familiar, deafeningly loud instrument of death clad in highly-reflective armor. 

The Mandalorian had an entire E-web gun in his hands, holding it like some kind of battering ram. How he even managed to lift it was a mystery in and of itself! The stand for it stood nearby, forlorn and empty. The old cantina looked like it had taken the brunt of the assault from the weapon before it had been...commandeered. 

The armored man widened his stance and you were just close enough to hear him scream, "Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu!", his voice raw with fury. The E-web repeater spun up like a gatling gun, chewing through the stormtroopers with a vengeance. The Mandalorian didn't stop shouting in Mando'a, beskar plate sending out spark showers from all the haphazard shots aimed his way. His boots stomped rhythmically against the ground, shoulders squared and head tilted downwards as he swung the gun in a wide semi-circle.

You caught a brief glimpse of Cara in the cantina doorway, her borrowed Bren drum-fed blaster pounding away at the stormtroopers. Over her head was an older man dual-wielding a set of pistols, his deadly accurate shots booming loudly through the automatic rattle. 

You raised your own rifle, settling the stock against your shoulder and carefully leading your targets. If there had been one thing you learned on Sorgan, it was to be cautiously aggressive. You aimed for knees, exploiting the weakest area in the trooper armor to topple them quickly and leave them floundering in the sand.

So thorough was your focus, you nearly missed the man swathed in black. 

His cape billowed out behind him, a void in the sandy chaos. He was clearly a leader of some sort, the way he carried himself and the fact that he moved through the battlefield with no helmet enough to give you pause. You lined your rifle up almost on instinct to take a shot at his unprotected head, flinching when he stopped moving and you lost your bead on him. By the time you had relocated your target, a stormtrooper had posted up alongside him. You swore, about to adjust downwards to deal with the trooper first.

Your attention was snagged on the way by the commander's service blaster raising. You followed the line of his shot with your eyes, realizing where it was headed a second before he fired. 

Your mind scrambled for a solution and you cried, "Aru'e!", though you knew there was no way he could even hear you. Enemy ahead!

You saw the Mandalorian's helmet jerk up at the word and he stopped dead, staring directly at you while the E-web chewed uselessly through a section of masonry off to the left. You could feel it, even through the glossy black of his visor; he heard you, he saw you. He knew you were there. 

His shoulders slumped, defeated. 

"Nari!" You screamed, making a shoving gesture, move! But he didn't. It was like he was rooted in place.

The commander's bolt cracked into the Mandalorian's helmet at close range, the ringing blow staggering the beskar-wearing man instead of dispersing over the armor. 

And as the Mandalorian struggled to turn, slicing a wide and clumsy circle back with the E-web, the commander lowered his blaster to aim for the power supply still attached to the vacant tripod. 

With a simple pull of the trigger the entire tripod exploded forcefully, black shrapnel flying outwards in a deadly haze. You couldn't help your distressed cry as the Mandalorian was pitched violently back from the fiery blast. 

Once he hit the ground, he didn't move. 

Get up, you begged mentally. Please get up. Please don't be dead. Please. Your vision blurred with tears, grief threatening to swallow you whole as he continued to just...lay there, his flight suit smoking slightly. Then…

Then, you gritted your teeth.

"Cara!" You yelled, straining to be heard over the cacophony of gunfire. The woman started visibly, glancing around until her eyes landed on you. "Cover me!" You requested, drawing your old knife.

She tapped her ear and nodded to indicate that she understood. Then, she let out a war whoop, her auto rifle throwing slugs over your head to take out your pursuers. Meanwhile, you took the path of most resistance and least distance. 

Dodge. Jump. Roll. Onto stomach. Back up. Kick shin. Knife, knife, done. Keep moving! 

Several blaster bolts whined by your face, throwing up clouds of sand to your left with a loud pank! You hurriedly raised your shielded arm to protect your head.

Off the barrel. Good! Jump. Knife to the neck. Too close. Behind the crate! Rifle to the head, pull one two, done. Keep moving! 

You weren't sure if you were imagining Cara coaching you through these skirmishes, but you could hear her voice yelling instructions and suggesting movements all the same just like on Sorgan, pick up your fucking feet rookie! 

A stormtrooper's plastoid was made for taking blaster energy. It was not made for the blunt force trauma you inflicted with the spine of your heavy old knife or the stock of the rifle. White shards flew every time you struck, and every strike was a new opening for Cara to take advantage of.

Two shots grazed your shielded arm, distributing over the plastoid with a crackle of wasted effort. You barely noticed, your eyes fixed on the shimmering beskar of the Mandalorian. It gleamed and twinkled in the desert sun like a mirage; the sheer volume of the material alone was worth a king's ransom, but the real prize you were after was the man wearing it. 

I'm going to save you.

Something clipped your side and your stride faltered, the impact making you stumble and almost fall. You didn't have time for pain at that point, shoving it down to deal with later, the adrenaline will hold the pain! Your heated advance had clearly been noted, but now the IG unit was also running interference for you, tipping the odds even further in your favor. You slung your blaster around by its tote strap and gathered yourself for one last burst of speed, your legs burning as you forced yourself to outrun the scattered gunfire trained on you.

I have to make it. 

Skidding to a halt beside the Mandalorian's body, you hurriedly sheathed your knife, dug your fists in beneath his shoulders and ripped him backwards with all your might. His cape aided you in your adrenaline-fueled struggle, ensuring that the edges of his beskar wouldn't catch on the sand. You stayed half-crouched, using his armor as a shield while you slowly, slowly dragged him back to the cantina. 

You hadn't had the time to ruminate on whether he was alive or not, so hellbent to just get him off the battlefield that you almost missed him slamming his gauntlet against his hip like he was chambering a round. 

Flames poured out of the thrower on his forearm, engulfing two troopers that you hadn't spotted on your left. "Thanks!" You gasped.

"W-What are you--" His speech was labored, barely-there. "T-T-old y-y' to st-stay s--afe..."

"As you can see I'm doing great at listening to you!" You nearly lost your grip, straining to move him quicker before screaming in frustrated panic, "Why the fuck do you wear so much fucking armor?!"

"Please--j-just..."

"Be quiet!" You yelled, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Cara was suddenly beside you, the shadowy doorway of the cantina a looming sanctuary over your head. The shock trooper grabbed one of the Mandalorian's arms, taking some of his weight to help you haul him deeper into the cantina.

"Stay with me buddy!" Dune encouraged him, "We're gonna' get you out of here!"

"This is our only path out, can you clear it?" That older man asked the IG unit, gesturing frantically at one of the ventilation grates. You recognized his voice from the message you had heard, the one that had sent the Mandalorian into a silent fury, but you were drawing a blank on his name. Karga, possibly?

"Certainly." The droid replied cordially, bending down in front of the indicated grate. A small cutting torch flared to life in its hand and it began what promised to be the somewhat arduous process of searing through the thick grating.

"And you! I don't know what the hell you were thinking, running out there like that!" The older man turned to scold you. "Nobody's worth that loyalty, you hear me?!" He paused, then continued, "aside from...well, maybe one or two people." He stuck his hand out. "Greef Karga, chairman of the Bounty Hunter's Guild on Nevarro."

You clumsily shook the pro-offered hand, still moving the Mandalorian. "Wish we could have met under better circumstances." 

"Too true!" He agreed, shaking his head. "What a mess you made of things, Mando. You and that baby are a menace."

"I'm n-not gonna' make it," the Mandalorian coughed when you and Cara managed to prop him up against a ruined table. "Go-"

"Shut up, you'll be fine! You just got your bell...rung." Dune's sure tone faded and when you looked over, you realized her hand was brick red with blood from where she had cupped the back of his neck. Glancing down, you found out to your horror that your own palms were liberally streaked with the substance as well. Fear raked its claws down your spine and you saw your hands start to tremble even harder.

"Leave m-e." The armored man pleaded, his voice rasping.

"I'm gonna' need to take this thing off." Cara reached urgently for the side of his helmet.

His gauntlet slammed shut on her wrist, hard enough that she winced visibly. "No. Y' leave me. Y' make sure the child is safe." He fumbled at his neck, tearing loose a small pendant that was shaped like the skull of a strange beast. "H-Here. When you get to the Mandalorian covert, you show them th--at."

Your confusion was probably plastered on your face (Mandalorian covert?), but Cara nodded like she understood. 

"You tell 'em…" He paused, wheezing stridor rattling loudly in his chest. "Y' tell 'em it's fr-from...D-Din Djarin..." His name, his name. You felt sick with the realization, your eyes going wide in shock. "You tell 'em the Foundling was in my pr-protection, and they'll help you." He instructed, pressing the pendant into your hand.

"We can make it." Cara assured him, glancing worriedly at you for confirmation. 

You were already moving to haul his arm up over your shoulder again. "C'mon, let's go!" You encouraged, his dead weight dragging hard at your back.

"I'm not gonna' m-ake it, n' you know it." The Mandalorian wheezed. His hand covered your own, rolling your fingers into a fist around the pendant. 

Flames abruptly poured through the cantina door, forcing both you and Cara to duck down against the armored man. When you raised your head again, the cantina was ablaze. "They're trying to burn us out, Imp fucks!" Cara snarled, her hand clenching down on one of the Mandalorian's pauldrons. "Can't that droid cut through the grate any faster?!" She shouted at Karga.

"You're more than welcome to assist it, with the torch that you don't have!" Greef retorted.

"Y' protect the child. I can h-hold them back long enough to help you escape," the Mandalorian panted. "Let me die a w--arrior's death." 

"We're not leaving you!" Cara insisted.

You echoed her sentiment softer, pushing your forehead against his. "Can you see me?" You whispered, staring through his visor.

"Y-Yeah." He gasped after a momentary pause. 

"I'm not leaving you alone in the dark." You heard his breath hitch with a sob and you bit your lip, quelling your own tears. "I'm right here with you." You drew your thumb down your chest, and then tapped your chin. I promise. "I'm here."

A second gout of fire roared into the cantina, nearer this time. Bottles of liquor began to explode nearby from the heat, various amber browns and neon blue spotchka feeding the flames. "Why won't y'...you're going t'...p-lease-"

"I said, I'm with you." You shook your head, trying vainly to imbue your next words with some sort of apologetic tone, "this is the Way."

"This i-is the W-ay." He echoed brokenly. His hand grasped at your arm, clinging for dear life despite imploring you to leave.

There was the sharp clatter of durasteel. You heard Cara start swearing a blue streak, which prompted you to glance behind you. The horrifying sight of a flame trooper was what met your eyes, the stripes on their armor turned blood red in the smokey haze of the cantina. They leveled their flamethrower and you realized that the child, the child was between you and the stormtrooper. 

You lunged for them just as the trooper pressed down on the trigger, knowing in your mind that there was no plausible way you would be able to save them. Hell, even yourself, or Cara, or the Mandalorian. You were all in the blast zone. 

It was futile. But you still moved. 

Your hands outstretched to pick up the child. The heat alone stole your breath. Maybe you could toss them, get them out of harm's way--

The flamethrower blast roiled and seethed forward, but then...it just stopped in midair. Hovering, a massive fireball, a miniature sun. When you saw the child's arms extended out in front of it, somehow you knew that they were what held it at bay.

Their tiny hand made a gesture, a simple motion of the wrist and the fireball soared backwards, engulfing the unsuspecting flametrooper. With a blast of backdraft, the trooper's fuel tank exploded and rocketed the body back out through the cantina door.

The child sat down heavily, then slumped to the side, their eyes rolling shut.

A loud clang echoed through the boiling room. It appeared that the IG unit had managed to get through the grate, the robot finally kicking it out of the way. 

"We're through! Come on, let's go!" Karga urged.

IG-11 clattered forwards over the flaming debris, carefully scooping up the child's limp form before you could shake off your shock. "Escape and protect the child. I will administer aid to the Mandalorian, and they shall assist me." The IG unit instructed calmly, metal pincers safely depositing the unconscious baby in Cara's waiting arms.

You tugged free the piece of fabric she appeared to have been using to cover her tattoo, rushing to tie it around your head. "Keep them safe, please." You implored her, running a hand over the unconscious child's head. You tucked the Mandalorian's pendant into their robes as an afterthought.

Cara's eyes went steely and she leaned in, forehead hitting yours as she demanded in her best trooper voice, "promise me you'll bring him. Drag him if you have to."

"You have my word." The IG unit answered for the both of you. You nodded in agreement, watching Cara and Greef flee through the destroyed grate before you pulled the cloth down over your eyes. Effectively blinded, you knelt in the sand and groped forward until you found the beskar-wearing man's arm.

"Y' have to go." The Mandalorian begged desperately, weakly shoving at your chest in an attempt to push you towards the grate. "P-lease…"

"We must remove his helmet if we are to save him." IG-11 stated.

You heard the sound of a blaster priming. "Try it n' I'll kill you. Blow your goddamn neural harness to Endor. I-It is. Forbidden." The armored man seethed through his teeth. "No living thing has seen me without this helmet si-since I--" He had to stop, a wet cough interrupting his speech. "-since I swore the Cr--eed."

"I am not a living thing." The robot pointed out pragmatically. "And they have covered their eyes. Out of respect for your traditions, I hypothesize." 

"We need to take care of you. Please." You found the hand that held the blaster and you wrapped your shaking fingers around it tightly. Now that your audience was gone the panic surged through your body, threatening to send you into hysterics at any moment while you clung to the last shreds of your composure. "Please." You begged frantically. I don't want you to die. "The kid needs you." 

I need you. I love you. I'm so sorry.

You felt him yield at the same time that you heard IG-11 move, the reformed bounty droid tugging at the beskar helmet. "I require assistance." It stated after a momentary struggle. "The surface is deceptively smooth."

You ran your hands over the Mandalorian's arm, working your way up to the base of his neck and resting just beneath the edge of his helm. You knew you were running out of time. Even now the flames grew hotter and hotter on your back, the air around you becoming unbearable with smoke. "Here, put your fingers on the edges instead. I can't actually be the one to take it off, so hold it like this."

You guided IG's less-certain metal claws to a better spot to grab, making sure that it wouldn't slip. The Mandalorian's shoulders tensed weakly, like he was waiting to be attacked. 

With a firm tug and that muffled hiss of air, the helmet came off. In the moment, it was no thing of gravitas. Clinical need overrode even the Creed he kept so close to his heart and here you were, blind and all business while you fended off your terror. 

He reached up shakily to brush his knuckles against the cloth you had covered your eyes with, a silent admission of trust. "You cryin'?" His voice still sounded so foreign without the modulator, husky but clear, soft. 

"Don't worry about that right now." You moved on autopilot to support the back of his head, grimacing when you felt your fingers card through matted hair and immediately grow slick with blood. "Maker, okay, alright." You muttered, nausea making your stomach pitch as you gingerly maneuvered his head to the side so IG-11 could perform whatever interventions it had in mind.

"Can't really feel my legs." The man admitted hoarsely. "Fingers are...tingling. What I can feel hurts like a--h-ah, dammit." He struggled to inhale, another wet cough choking him.

There was a soft ping. "This is a bacta spray. It will heal you in a matter of hours." IG-11 informed him.

You felt the armored man flinch when the bacta hit the open wound on the side of his head, hissing in a breath through his teeth.

"You have suffered damage to your central processing unit." The IG said bluntly.

"You...mean my brain." The Mandalorian murmured slowly after a beat. 

"That was a joke. It is meant to put you at ease." 

In spite of the peril that loomed, you were thrilled to hear a pained snort of amusement. Leather-clad fingers twined with your own. "Helmet." He pleaded. 

"Can we put his helmet back on? Are we all set?" You asked IG-11, squeezing the Mandalorian's hand in an attempt to comfort him.

"Better to do so. These open flames will not aid in the bacta absorption or ease of respiration." The robot replied. 

You felt around for the helm, burning your fingertips on the contoured surface before you managed to get it over the Mandalorian's face once again. You were startled when he clumsily cupped your jaw and pressed his helm to the cloth that covered your eyes. "I could kiss you, little mudhorn." He rasped through his modulator, clearly delirious on a combination of pain and strong drugs. 

"I would advise that you attempt such activities at a later time." The IG unit intoned. 

The Mandalorian then allowed you and the bounty droid to haul him upright, his fingers fighting with the cloth over your eyes before you helped him shove it up out of the way. His heated armor seared at your skin even through your clothes, but the pain was a background worry compared to your relief. 

He was alive. Staggering, stumbling, most of his weight resting on either you or the spindly droid, but alive. 

As you made your way through the tunnels beneath the city, his steps became more sure. "Damn, that bacta's got some kick to it." He remarked, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders out. "Hits like a blurrg to the gut."

"I would advise against strenuous activities while you heal." The droid droned.

"I'd love to oblige you," The Mandalorian retorted sarcastically, "but I don't think I'll have the luxury." His hand rested on the top of your head, fingers buried in your hair. 

When you finally caught up with Cara and Greef, the former soldier met the three of you with a grin of relief. "They'll have to try harder than that to keep you down!" She crowed, thumping a fist into the Mandalorian's shoulder.

The Mandalorian's response was a wry, "I'd rather they didn't." 

...

Now reunited, the group of you traversed ahead. Despite being a little turned around, the Mandalorian quickly latched onto the correct path to the aforementioned covert. Progress grew more expedient as his body absorbed the bacta properly, the hunter soon able to walk unaided. 

Your rushed exodus came to an abrupt halt, however, when you stumbled upon a pile of beskar armor. 

The Mandalorian stopped dead in his tracks, and then sank to one knee. Shaking hands reached out and plucked a helmet from the pile, his thumb rubbing against the black sharding left over from where the visor had shattered.

Everyone huddled together in silence, not really wanting to interrupt the clearly-grieving man, but knowing too well that the Imperials would be overrunning the tunnels shortly.

"We should go." Cara finally murmured. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder between his cowling and pauldron, squeezing to let him know that you were there.

"You go. Take the ship." The armored man replied brokenly. "I...I can't leave it this way." You felt his shoulder tense up under your touch and you instinctively braced for impact. "Did you know about this?" He breathed, the inquiry directed at Karga. "Is this the work of your bounty hunters?" The title sounded like a curse, dripping with hatred.

"Of course not!" Greef protested. "When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended. The hunters just...melted away. You know how it is. They're mercenaries, not zealots!"

"Did you do this?!" The Mandalorian raged, shaking your hand off as he lunged upright and turned on the Guild leader. "Did you?!" 

"It was not his fault." said a stern female voice. Another Mandalorian emerged from a side tunnel, her majestic bronze helm adorned with small horn-like protrusions. She wore a cuirass beneath her armor that had a luxurious pelt around the neck (possibly nexu?), giving her the illusion of sporting a thick mane. 

You did your best not to gawk, though you had the feeling you were unsuccessful. She carried herself almost like Cara, but more refined, almost regal.

"We revealed ourselves. We knew what would happen if we left the covert." Leather-gloved hands reached into the pile and reverently picked up a breastplate, which she proceeded to deposit onto an already-loaded hoverskiff. "The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter." She gestured down at the armor. "This...is what resulted." Her voice was soft with grief.

"Did any survive?" The Mandalorian rasped desperately.

"I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world."

The Mandalorian looked down at the pile and then jerked his helmet back up. "Come with us." He implored.

"No." She replied disdainfully, almost as if she was scolding him for even daring to suggest such a thing. "I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains." She then turned on her heel, beckoning for the group to follow her into the side room. 

As the others trailed along behind her, you dallied just outside the doorway. With a hand pressed to your side, you took a shaky inhale. It was beginning to hurt to breathe, but only just. Like the adrenaline was dulling the pain. You didn't want to actually look at the wound for fear that it was worse than you thought, so you carefully shifted your cloak to hang over your side. 

There. Out of sight, out of mind.

Part Nine

[erintoknow]

murder lives forever

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

[Read on AO3]

This is who you are now. Better get to work. Tw: death, self-harm [Savages]

“Rosie – position?”

Her voice crackles over the helmet radio, “Yeah, I’ve got clear sights.” Can hear the little hesitation of held breath.

Wait for it.

“You sure about this, Ghost?” She’s already switched to your new moniker, you note. Say what you will about Rosie; the woman is a professional. After tonight the rest of the city will know to mark ‘Puppetmaster’ as out of date.

“It’s – it’s not like you’re going to kill him. Just… flush the game if I give the signal.”

“...right. Okay, you’re the boss, boss.”

“Don’t forget it.”

Tucking your chin down you drop over the edge of the roof you’ve been hiding on. Jet boosters cushion your fall to a light landing. Fastening your cape close around you, you make a difficult figure to spot in the gloom. An impossibly dark shape blending into the larger shadow.  Lou Marconi is a career bureaucrat who’s had a job working for the city for almost as long as it’s been called ‘Los Diablos.’ Long-lived and well-paid to be able to afford living in his own private mansion up on celebrity row.

This part of town, houses are further apart and street lighting is reduced. There’s a cool satisfaction to be had in how Marconi’s eagerness to flaunt his wealth only makes it easier for you to infiltrate. A brick wall delineates the edge of the lot. About as tall as you are.

It’s like he’s not even trying to keep you out.

A scramble over the top and you drop into a row of bushes. Tap the side of your helmet to switch into low-light vision. One of Mortum’s handy little programs starts tagging likely laser detectors. Under everything the pulsing thrum of a telepathic dampener blankets the minds in the building.

That’s your first target. With the Rat-King buffering you against the worst of it, you pull a song tight against your head – keep focused. Push forward to where the psychic chaff is the loudest. If you’re lucky, it’ll be a security station for the whole complex. Make your job easier.

So many shadows, so many nooks and crannies for you to stick to as you move along the perimeter of the building. It’s an open secret that Marconi makes his living as one of Los Diablos’s most bribable officials. If you’re going to reshape the city’s politics then the knowledge in his balding, wrinkled head is going to be invaluable.

Breaking into locked city hall safes, or cracking encrypted files is risky and time consuming. So you’ll break into his mind instead. He’s been avoiding public functions for a while now – paranoid little sleazeball. It’s like he thinks someone’s after him or something.

As you get closer to the dampener the pounding in your head intensifies. Can feel it in your teeth. A pressure pushing down, or something like the hiss of a CRT screen, a hissing pain that pierces through your skull with all the precision of a mortar round. Stripping away everything.

The Rat-King chitters in irritation. Sorry guys, we’re almost through this part, you promise. A small security station, wooden walls, windows. Hah. You were worried it would be inside the main building. But this? Marconi may have been around a few blocks but it’s clearly made him arrogant more than it has anything else.

Quick check up and down the walkway, no incoming patrols. Gritting your teeth you slide inside, stepping over the laser detect across the threshold. Inside, a bank of monitor screens takes up one wall while a bored looking man in a blue guard outfit reclines in a chair with his back to the door, feet up on the desk. There in the corner, the stainless steel tube about as thick as your torso rises from floor to ceiling. Take that out and you can finally breathe.

But first the guard.

He doesn’t even register you behind him until you’ve got your arm around his neck, crushing his windpipe. Your other hand claps over his mouth. He tries to pull free, slip out, fight back. But you’re the one in control here.

Finally the man goes limp and you let go. Immediately you get to work examining the control board. Dampeners consume a lot of electricity. You doubt they keep it live all the time, so…. There, the dail. Turn it down and the oppressive weight on your head easies up and fades away. It’s like standing up in the open desert after a week in confinement. Laughing you stretch out your awareness, casting wide and mentally tagging the notes of the guards patrolling the building. And… there’s Marconi in the dining hall, with some guests and… is that?

You sigh. So much for joy. Well, he’s the sole Ranger you haven’t fought yet. Suppose it was time.

Before you leave, you press your left hand to the dampener. The nanovores don’t need much coaxing to reduce the damn thing to dust. You’ll take no chances tonight.

As for the guard… He’ll wake up soon on his own. Raise the alarm. Grabbing his mind, currently placid in unconsciousness, you drag it down deeper, wrap it in a dream. On a whim you coax it to be something nice. Ice cream with his daughters.

There.

That should at least buy you time until the next check in.

Dining Hall is towards the back. You’ll swing around, wait for the bastard to go to the bathroom and snag him on the way back. If it goes well, you won’t even be noticed.

It’s not going to happen like that, but you can hope.

Sure enough, Rosie cuts in on the radio. “Uh, hey, Boss?”

“What?”

“I’m seeing some weird movement.”

“Police?” Was there a tip-off? Who? How? You didn’t even tell Rosie the actual mission until this evening.

“No, I don’t know what. It’s just… bad vibes, man.”

You grit your teeth. ‘Bad vibes’ huh. Well, you only have yourself to blame for encouraging Rosie to be candid. “I’ll take it under advisement. Keep your eyes on the roof.”

“Roger.”

The voice in your ear goes silent again. You hang at the corner. So far, you’ve stuck between the pair of patrols circling the grounds. Not much time left until someone discovers your work at the security station. Marconi is on the other side of those windows. Just his bodyguard with him still…

Fuck it.

Ducking your head down you break into a run, jumping over the hedge and crashing through the window. Alarms immediately start blaring as people start screaming. The Rat-King pulls your attention and you throw yourself down to the ground. Something flies over your head and explodes in a burst of light and sound outside.

As you get to your feet, you find yourself face-to-face with the bodyguard. “Marshal Steel.” You grit your teeth. “Playing private bodyguard?” Not even the inflexible Wei Chen is above making money on the side you guess. Disappointing.

Chen watches you, hands at the ready, a shoulder-mounted mini-missile system attached to his power armor. Great. “I can’t say I care what you think of me, Puppetmaster.”

“It’s Ghost.” You do your best sneer with a mirrored helmet. “Try to keep up, Marshal.” This is your only second time out, and first time using the name, but he doesn’t need to know that. Let them sweat a little.

“I’d heard the rumors, but you disappoint me, Puppetmaster.”

Rumors? So there was a tip-off. Who squealed?

You shake your head. Stay focused. Stay in control. “Just going to ask our friend here some questions. That’s all.”

Marconi bristles at that, presses himself back against the dining table, a half-eaten roll of bread in one hand. His face is bright red as he raises his voice “What are you doing!? Protect me!”

Chen frowns, a note of irritation spiking across his mind. What’s the matter Chen? Don’t like taking orders? He plants his feet, and you tense up, waiting for the missile you’ll have to dodge.

“No!” Marconi shouts, “Don’t blow up my house you idiot!”

“My orders are only to keep you safe.” Catch the briefest glimpse of a smile on Chens face as another rocket goes flying your way. You throw yourself sideways, crashing through the dinner table, the wood snapping in half under the sudden weight of your suit. Your helmet flashes black in response to the burst of light, ears ringing. Stun bombs? What is with these assholes and treating you with kids gloves? You’d think at least Chen would be willing to go for the kill.

Noise – people talking you can’t make out while your ears keep ringing. But, fuck. Marconi’s running. The roof. He’s going to the roof.

You grin.

Great.

You’d give Rosie a head’s up, but the fist coming down on your torso takes priority. You roll out of the way, scramble to your feet. Shake your head, think the ringing is calming down. “Alright. Fine.” You raise your fists. “Only fair I treat the Marshal too.”

“Hrm.” Chen frowns, staring at you. What’s he looking at? Seeing something – fuck – You push off, taking a swing at him. Force him to focus on the fight. He staggers backward. Gets his bearings and then swings his arm around at an unnatural angle. A plated fist catches you in the throat, knocking you to the floor.

Coughing, you sputter, pushing yourself backwards to put space between the two of you as you catch your breath. Damn, when could he extend his arm like that? The Marshal has some new tricks.

“So you’re just another contract killer after all.”

You dodge his fist as you get up, duck under his arm as you get behind him. “What are–” You cut yourself off, hiss, “Don’t think y–you can distract me. I know your tricks, Chen.”

He twists around as you dodge around him, “Do you?.”

Oh fucking goddamnit.

You grit your teeth. This. This is why you should just keep fucking quiet on operations. Don’t get mouthy, you idiot. The two of you trade blows as you dance around each other. This is not good. Not a good match up at all. You’re fast enough that Chen can’t really touch you save for the occasional lucky hit. But are any of your blows getting through that armor? He’s showing no signs of slowing down. You need to disengage. Grab Marconi before he gets away.

The Nanovores? Could they crack the armor? But what if they…? Steel is your enemy. Killing him is part of the end-game. Taking him out shouldn’t be sending your stomach into knots. Why did you even get these damn things if you weren’t going to use them?

Fuck it.

Gritting your teeth you catch his arm with your left hand. Start to coax the Nanovores to life and –

An explosion shakes the building, the chandelier above you both jostling in a chime of clattering glass.

You let go, jumping back. Heart in your throat.

Chen doesn’t press the advantage, glaring at you. “What did you do.”

“I didn’t do anything!” You raise your hands. Under your breath you activate the radio, “Rosie?”

“Boss! Something on the roof just went–”

“I know!” You hiss.

Chen narrows his eyes. “Who are you talking to–”

“Shut up!” You hold up a hand, tuck in your chin, not taking your eyes off Chen. “Keep an eye on the fucking roof. Don’t let him leave.” You jump backwards out of the way of Chen’s fist. “Goddamnit Chen, I’m not here to f–f–fucking kill anybody!”

“Then who set off that bomb, Ghost?”

“I don’t fucking know!” You grit your teeth. Fire is spreading through the building. Was it a bomb or a missile? Which would be better? And then there’s… “Shit.” You look away from Chen, run through the map in your head. “There’s people trapped.”

“What?” Chen tenses up, staring you down. “How do you know?”

“Don’t act stupid.” You snap back. “I know you know I’m a telepath.” You move towards the far end of the hall. “We need to get them out of here.” You put your hand against the wall, frown, glance back at Chen. “Don’t just f–fucking stand there, you idiot. Use your plasma cutter. Help me get through this wall.”

Chen frowns. Some sort of internal debate. Then he nods and follows you. “Roger.”

Fuck, this isn’t going to help you at all. It’s too like the days you and Chen worked emergency relief. But– “Why are you doing this?” Chen cuts through the wall, kicking it down.

“W–what?” You take stock of the other side. Looks like some kind of guestroom?  Still not far enough.

“You could have left this to me. It’s not your problem.” Chen follows your direction to the next wall you indicate with a tap of your hand.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m – I’m not a killer.”

Things would be so much easier if you were.

“Still.” Chen grunts, knocking down the weakened square of wall. “Not killing and actively saving are two different things.”

“S–shut up.” You hiss.

Now here’s a room with some damage. One wall is gone, open to the outside air as flames lick the edges, spreading across the ground and burning the furniture. There’s a hole in the floor where part of the basement roof caved in. With a hand gesture you take the lead, hopping down first into the cellar.

Some kind of storage room. More collapsed ceiling blocks the way out. Two panicking employees freeze in their efforts to dig their way out, looking up at you with dread. Ah shit.

Catch sight of a woman trapped under a toppled shelving unit at the far end. Ignoring the two men you push through the rubble towards her. Can hear the ‘thud’ of Chen following you down. Clearing out the rubble.

A broken gas pipe catches your attention and you divert to twist it closed at the nearest valve. Would be just your luck if there’s still enough gas to blow the room up when the flames get here.

Back to the woman. Grit your teeth as you strain to lift the shelf. Chen catches up with you and you jerk your head towards the woman, unconscious against the ground. “Get – get her out of here.”

Chen bends down, cradles her between his arms. As soon as he’s clear you let the shelf drop with a gasp of relief. Jesus. Those exercises are paying off. You shoo him away, as you catch your breath. “Go, idiot!”

He hesitates. Face unreadable. “Be careful.”

“Y–yeah whatever, just go!” You sag backwards as Chen finally turns, shielding his charge under his body as he shoulders through the collapsing rubble.

If you were smart you’d make your own exit now.

You aren’t smart.

Race to the hole up. Boost-jet jump back to the ground floor. The room is fully ablaze now. A second explosion rocks the building, sending you scrambling to keep your balance as you race through the hallway. Rosie’s voice crackles back over the static. “Holy shit, you alive down there?”

“I’m fine. Report.”

Rosie’s voice is frantic, speech rushed. “Guy was gonna fly out. I scared him into cover, then his damn chopper blew up.”

“Shit. Is he still alive?” You stretch out your awareness, canvas the dozen panicking minds fleeing the building.

“I don’t know! I can’t see anything in the smoke.”

“You did your job.” You job up the stairwell, run down the hallway to the roof access. “Pull out. Wait at the rendezvous.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Every damn cop in the city is going to be on you any second.”

“Consider me appraised.” You cut the connection, up another round of steps and then – oh. A chunk of the building has already collapsed. Well fuck. That’s not a good sign. Gritting your teeth you peer through the smoke and flame, try to appraise a chunk of roof that’s still stable. There!

A running jump with boosters flaring puts your hands just in range to grab the edge. Smoldering wood creaks under your weight as you swing in the open air. Arms scream complaints as you pull yourself up. Wheeze for breath once you’re on your feet. Shit. Not in total shape just yet you guess.

Firelight coats the ruins of the roof in a dozen criss-crossing shadows. Chunks of scattered metal litter the ground. You foot catches on something and you glance down. Dead body. Kick it over, and it looks like a guard. Blue uniform. Damn. Dead for an asshole like this? Not worth it.

Speaking of which…

There! The Rat-King directs your attention. Weak, stunned thoughts. You race across the roof to find a prone Lou Marconi on the ground. Blood gushes out of his nose. Broken? But still alive. That’s all you need. Who doesn’t want the two of you talking this badly?

Well, too bad. They failed.

Maybe – maybe wait until you’re somewhere safe before you say that.

With a grimace you pick up the bleeding man. Only one way off the roof from here. Can your booster jets handle both of your weights?

Fucking hell.

Holding the limp body against you, you take another running jump. Jets flaring against the pull of gravity as you plumet. Slowed, but not by enough. You crash into the brush, white fire cascading up your legs and into your spine. Momentum carries you forward still, sending you crashing against the perimeter wall and

fuck

fuck no no no…

You shake Marconi. Where’d his mind go? It was still there. However faint. However dim. Can’t check for a pulse or breath with your gloves on. Press a hand to his chest as tight as you can bear. Nothing.

You drop the body to the ground with a thud.

He… he was going to die stuck on that roof anyway right? So – so you didn’t really – you were trying to save him. Sure you were planning to rifle through his memories like a thief through cabinets, but you weren’t – you weren’t going to kill him.

Fuck.

fuck fuck fuck

–––

Watch your reflection in the mirror. Only minor bruises and sore muscles from tonight, but you’ll fix that.

The face in the reflection is empty, it’s eyes a rancid green, partially obscured under a veil of curling red threads twisted out of shape. Skin paler than anything has a right to be under Californian sun. Whoever you jacked your genes from clearly was never meant to see the light of day.

Don’t look down, stare ahead at that grimace, gritted teeth. The sharp pain. The knife clatters out of a hand as steam from the faucet brushes the silver, condensing against the glass. With a hiss you shift position, pressed against the counter. Too hot – too warm. You jerk the arm out from under the spray. Pat it down with a towel. Distant screaming alarm bells in the back of your head. Grab a stretch of bandage and wrap the wound.

You’re here. This is real.

Almost.

Almost fooled yourself back there. Sneaking in where you shouldn’t, dropping everything to get someone out of trouble. It’s not you anymore. Let it go.You put two Rangers in the hospital and humiliated a third. You destroyed priceless exhibits and ensured no one would ever remember your old alter ego ever again. Now someone’s died – directly because of you.

‘He was going to die up there anyway,’ ‘it wasn’t your fault.’ Excuses. If you hadn’t had Rosie keep him from the helicopter, then at least his death wouldn’t literally be on your hands.

There’s no turning back from this, only pressing forward. However far you can get before the end.

You’re not going to burn alone.

–––

Jane shades her eyes from the afternoon sun as she looks down at the business card in her hand, frowning. ‘Mia Ochoa.’ A reporter for LD Confidential. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

The deceptively small Fillipino woman sitting across from her huffs at that. “It’s the most respected independent newspaper in Los Diablos.”

“Uh-huh.” Jane slides the card into her purse, making a show of thinking it over. Wound her professional pride. Make her think she has something to prove. “And… how can I help you, Miss Ochoa?”

Ochoa flips over to a blank page in her penpad, chewing on her pencil eraser. A serious look settles over her face. “I know you were at the Gala the night of Puppetmaster’s debut… and…” She hesitates, watching her lunch partner carefully. “I have reason to suspect you know more about what happened that night then anyone else.”

Jane’s eyebrows shoot up. She ducks down her head, hissing angrily. “And where do you get off making that kind of claim?”

From you, of course. You sent her the anonymous tip-off. Something to whet her appetite. Mia Ochoa is exactly what you need to start working the media angle. An established reporter with a respected reputation for pushing the edge, but not so famous as to be unapproachable by a nobody.

“I have my sources.” Ochoa answers, tactfully. “As I trust you have yours.”

Jane sits back, frowning. Drums her hand on the table. “Suppose I did. What’s your angle?”

Ochoa leans over the table, dropping her voice. “There’s something going on with this city. Something weird. I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

Hrrm… Jane hums to herself and shifts in her seat. Pulls out photocopied piece of paper. Ochoa’s eyes watch the paper as Jane spins it between her fingers. “You hear about Marconi?”

“You’re going to tell me it wasn’t a house fire.”

Jane purses her lips, puts the paper down on the table between the two of them. “Nooope.”

Ochoa picks up the paper, brow creasing as she tries to read the smudged print. “So the whole Puppetmaster arson thing was just a cover-up.”

“Oh, Ghost was there.”

She looks up at Jane. “Ghost?” Blinks. “Oh.” Looks back at the paper in her hands.

“And somebody wanted our friend dead. But it wasn’t Ghost.”

“Who?”

Jane spreads her arms wide, leaning back in her chair. “You’re the famed investigative reporter. Investigate.”

[yikestripes]

Once

a/n: OKAY here’s the losers club x dead ghost reader request!!! sorry it took so long to get up anon, but i really really hope you like it!!!

“I just wanted to call this meeting of the Loser’s Club to order, and raise my glass to the two greatest friends and happiest people who unfortunately couldn’t be with us tonight.” Bill said, raising his glass with a shaky hand. Everyone at the table looked at the two empty seats, feeling somewhat guilty. One was intentionally left, the other definitely was not, and was even less planned. Bev wiped away a small tear, and took a long sip of her beer. The moment each of the Losers besides Mike had moved out of Derry, all the memories from their childhood had been forgotten. Especially the summer of 1989. That was something not a single one of the losers’ had ever planned on delving back into, if they had a choice in the matter. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a kind-hearted person with their soul on fire, had passed that fateful day in the sewer, at the hands of the goddamn clown.

“Beverly!” (Y/N) screamed upon seeing their best friend floating among the trash of the cistern. They looked frantically to Bill, Richie, and then Ben, searching for some sort of support in the way of getting Bev down.

“Here, climb up on my shoulders!” Bill said finally. (Y/N) looked skeptical, as if they were afraid Bill wouldn’t be able to do it, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Bill was a lot stronger than he appeared. He hoisted (Y/N) onto his shoulders and they were able to grab Beverly’s ankle. They pulled her to the ground, her eyes iced over in a milky white fashion, her irises barely visible.

“Bev?” (Y/N) whispered, their voice cracking. No response. “Bev!”

“(Y/N) stop, shaking her isn’t working.” Richie put a gentle hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder, and guided them away, where they sat miserably. (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel this was all their fault. They should’ve kept a closer eye on Beverly, she was their best friend. (Y/N) shouldn’t have left her alone after the day of the fight. Richie left (Y/N)’s side, and rejoined the others in their efforts to wake Beverly up. They were all completely distracted, leaving an unsuspecting (Y/N) vulnerable. She watched as Ben kissed her, bringing her back to life, just as Pennywise was able to grab (Y/N).

Bill gulped down about half of his beer, and grimaced as he sat back down. The tension in the room was almost suffocating; being surrounded by strangers who were once your entire world, two lives stopped in the middle of a sentence, and six others that felt immense guilt that they could never quite shake, even before returning to Derry.

“Well, now that things are awkward, how is everyone doing?” Richie joked, attempting to cut the tension back a bit. Eddie just kinda looked at him, while the others stared into their quickly emptying glasses.

Everyone was not only remembering (Y/N), but Stanley Uris as well. Stanley, the Jewish boy with a strange sense of humor, who was extremely bright and very shy, and was the most different after the encounter in the sewers. He was separated. The only one who was separated. They found the woman who had been haunting his nightmares for a very long time preparing to eat his face, and was in the midst of it when they found Stanley, crying and shivering, screaming about how they had left him, and they weren’t really his friends. Patty Uris, and later Beverly, had confirmed he had in fact died at his own hands, after the phone call he received from Mike.

As the evening bore on, and more drinks and food began circling around the table, the Losers quickly became re-acquainted. Bill was a famous author, who couldn’t write a book ending for shit. Beverly was in fashion with her abusive husband, Ben was a rich architect, and Richie did was Richie did best, telling jokes. Doing voices. All of the Losers were moderately successful, but none truly happy in their own lives. Eddie had married a woman who was exactly like his mother, constantly worrying about him and his safety, not to mention coddling him. Mike had stayed behind in Derry and became the town historian, never leaving behind the traumatic memories as the other Losers had been fortunate to do.

“Yeah,” Ben grinned as he took a bite of his dinner. “(Y/N) was the best. She was always looking out for us.” The other Losers smiled fondly, and as you watched from a distance, you smiled too.

----------------------------

As the 6 Losers’ descended into the cavern, they each felt sick to their stomachs. Richie had violently thrown up not long ago, after sinking a hatchet into the back of Henry Bowers’ head. They’d made it this far, what did they have to lose?

So much more than they expected, unfortunately.

As they group got closer and closer to the face off with the demonic clown that had been terrorizing them since they were just 13 years old, each member couldn’t help but feel as though they weren’t alone, besides being surrounded by 5 other people from their childhood club.

The truth was your spirit had been trapped in the caverns for 27 years, unable to be at  peace until Pennywise was destroyed, and you saw that your friends had made it out safely.

“Are we all ready?” Mike asked, looking to the others. “Did you all get your tokens?”

“Mine is something I’ve kept with me every day for, uh, 27 years.” Ben said quietly, tossing the old yearbook page with solely the signature of Beverly Marsh into the flames.

Eddie took a quick final puff from his inhaler, and threw it in without a word.

“Yeah. I, uh, got a token from the Capitol Theater.” Richie sighed, throwing the token into the small fire.

“Dude, that’s metal, that’s gonna take forever to burn.” Eddie said, turning to Richie.

“Well yeah but so will your inhaler, plus the fumes from the plastic and stuff.”

“Same for Mikey’s rock, it’s-” Mike cut Eddie off by reaching out to join hands, just as they had when you were children, that day at the Quarry. The blood oath.

You stood behind Richie and allowed your hand to come to rest on his shoulder. You felt him tense up a little bit under your touch, but he kept his eyes closed and chanted with the others, quietly.

Slowly, they got louder and louder, as the deadlights began descending into the ritual box.

You removed your hand from Richie’s shoulder and stayed back, waiting with bated breath to see if the creature would finally be vanquished.

“Why isn’t this working?!” Someone screamed out.

“Keep chanting!” Mike yelled back.

They continued chanting, but to no avail. The Ritual of Chud had not worked.

The sound of someone -or something- snickering came from the misshapen shape behind the Losers, and out came Pennywise mixed with some sort of spider creature.

Mike looked like he was ready to cry, and the others immediately turned to him angrily.

“Tell them why your silly little ritual didn’t work!” Pennywise was saying, slowly circling the Losers club.

“Fuck Mikey, you lied to us again?!!” Bill rang out, sprinting in the opposite direction.

You narrowed your eyes, prepared to do everything in your power to help your friend’s one last time.

Holding your nonexistent breath, you watched as the Losers scrambled and avoided Pennywise’s claw-like daggers and pincers.

Everything was happening so fast, no one was sure what was happening. One minute everyone was running, then they all disappeared, hiding. Pennywise was getting frustrated and bored, they weren’t putting up the sort of fight he had been hoping for.

“Wanna play truth or dare? Here's a truth, you're a sloppy bitch! Yippee ki yaya mother f...” Richie yelled to distract the clown. Pennywise whipped around and opened It’s mouth, revealing the very deadlights that had entrapped Beverly all those years ago.

“NO!” You screamed, not prepared to watch the Loser’s lose anyone else, the way they had lost you.

Eddie looked down at the jagged piece of metal in his hands and repeated to himself what Beverly had said to him probably not even an hour ago.

“It kills monsters if you believe it does.” Eddie heaved the jagged thing as hard as he could, hitting Pennywise directly in the throat, and releasing Richie from the deadlights.

Richie hit the ground with a thud, rendering him unconscious.

“Richie, wake up! I did it, I did it Richie!” Eddie was grinning, shaking the man beneath him.

“EDDIE WATCH OUT!” You screeched, launching yourself in place of Eddie to distract the clown demon from his initial target.

Eddie rolled out of the way as Pennywise, though confused and angry, still aimed directly for Eddie’s chest.

“(Y/N)?! (Y/N)?!?!” He spluttered, not believing his own eyes.

He’d seen a lot of things in his life, but not once did he ever expect to see you after the funeral.

Hell, he hadn’t even remembered you until a few days ago, let alone recognized you from another world.

Richie was finally semi-conscious, and didn’t believe his eyes.

“Man, I must’ve really hit my head hard, I’m seeing (Y/N) again!” He said, rubbing the spot where he knocked his head on the rock.

“MOVE!” You screeched, attempting to stop Pennywise’s dagger attacks as best you could. He was still sputtering some fiery substance from where the metal pole had made contact, but that hadn’t stopped him quite yet.

From across the cavern, Bill rubbed his eyes incredulously. He thought he had seen you, with your (Y/H/C) hair flowing and your eyes burning, the same way they had when you were 13 years old.

Bill thought he had hit his head, or was seeing some sort of Pennywise-induced vision, or maybe some after effects from whatever root Mike had slipped into his drink a few days prior.

Mike smiled next to Bill, fully knowing you’d been around for quite some time. You’d visited him in a few different dreams on a couple occasions, reminding him that the 27 years had almost been up by the time Mike was seeing you again.

Beverly and Ben had been separated from the rest of the Loser’s and were wandering around a different part of the cavern.

Eddie still looked confused, trying to ask you several questions as you fended off Pennywise.

“Mike! You know exactly how to defeat this bitch, PLEASE! Wrack your brain, I can’t hold him off forever! I’m sorry!” You cried, quickly losing leverage.

Mike’s eyes widened as he recalled something very, very important that the Derry Natives had imparted onto him; “All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit.”

As Pennywise was still trying to get around (Y/N) in an attempt to gain access to Richie and Eddie, Mike stood up from his hiding space.

“We have to make him believe he’s small,” Mike said as the others joined him.

“Me? SMALL? I’m the eater of WORLDS!” Pennywise laughed.

“You sure about that, big guy?” You asked.

“I’m the EATER OF WORLDS!” He repeated, shrinking back slightly, snapping a pincer in Eddie’s direction.

“No you’re not, you’re just a clown.” Mikey said, advancing.

“EATER OF WORLDS!” Pennywise said again, a look of fear flashing across his features.

“CLOWN! CLOWN! CLOWN!” The Loser’s chanted, getting closer and closer.

“You’re just a stupid fucking clown.” You said from behind the Losers. Pennywise crumbled quicker and quicker, making feeble attempts to make the Losers stop. Mike proceeds to rip out his heart, and as they finally unite, the Losers crush the heart of the demonic clown together, and their nightmare is over. Finally.

Especially (Y/N).

The Losers’ turned from Pennywise’s smouldering ashes to face you, who began to glow.

“Thank you, guys. I’ll see you all in the future,” You said, tears streaming down your pale face.

They all smiled in a sad, confused sort of sense. None of them understood how they were able to see you again, or process the fact that you were able to help them by distracting Pennywise, then remind Mike of the missing piece.

You scanned the Losers over one final time, committing them to memory as you finally, and joyously ascended; only to be met by one Stanley Uris.

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 78

His attempts to appeal to Maya’s sensibilities- to a long forgotten moral code- seemed fruitless. Why was it always people like this- she wanted help- help to continue funding and guiding this mountain of bullshit. To continue to hurt people. Not to help them. To clear somebody of this disease she’d manufactured for Killian, of all people- 

It struck him a little too late that the last person Maya had been with was- 

“You know what my old man used to say to me?” Killian’s voice echoed in the hallway just beyond, and Tony lifted his eyes, hands tightening and straining against the straps holding him to the that bedframe. Turning his head, he saw Killian descending the small set of stairs to his side. “One of his favorite of many sayings... The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese." 

Watching him walk over to one of the work tables dead ahead and set down a briefcase, Tony steeled himself. “You're not still pissed off about the Switzerland thing, are you?” Whatever was about to happen was sure to be unpleasant. Just like always. As his stupid mistakes one after the other compounded on each other until he eventually found a way out.

...because he would find a way out, right? He had to. For her. Wherever she was. So he had to stay strong. He had to stay sharp. 

God help them if they touched a single hair on her head- 

Killian turned around with his hands open. “How can I be pissed at you, Tony? I’m here to thank you.” He approached. “You gave me the greatest gift that anybody's ever given me. Desperation.” Tony’s eyes narrowed in a small twitch, watching him for only a few seconds more before allowing his gaze to drift as Killian monologued. “If you think back to Switzerland, you said you'd meet me on the rooftop, right? Well, for the first 20 minutes, I actually thought you'd show up.” This man really liked to hear himself talk, didn’t he? “And the next hour... I considered taking that one-step shortcut to the lobby. If you know what I mean.” 

Tony shook his head, eyes dropping. “Honestly, I'm still trying to figure out what happened to the first mouse.” Think. Think. There had to be a reason they had him strung up like this. Did Maya really think he was going to help her? Is that really the only reason? Then, in the face of absolutely not giving in to that- no way in hell- what was he going to do to get out of here when the suit powered up- if it did on time-

Think…

Killian ignored him, turning half away, like he was reliving that moment so many years ago. “But as I looked out over that city, nobody knew I was there, nobody could see me, no one was even looking. I had a thought that would guide me for years to come. Anonymity, Tony.” He pointed at him, and then half looked back at Maya. “It’s been my mantra ever since, right?” He started walking back and forth. “Thanks to you, it's been my mantra ever since. Right? You simply rule from behind the scenes. Because the second you give evil a face, a bin Laden, a Gaddafi, a Mandarin, you hand the people a target.” 

Insane. This man was absolutely insane. And blaming it all on Tony? Sure. Why not. It was another day that ended in Y. But what was Maya’s excuse for getting involved in all this? She used to have a heart. Once. ...he could barely remember, honestly, but that wasn’t the point. He did remember a few slivers. She wanted to do good, hadn’t she? So why- 

Tony shook his head, allowing it to half lower again. “You’re something else…” Was it just his fate, his lot in life to have every person he’d ever wronged, subtly or not, come back to try and bite him? Maybe so. Maybe he was eternally going to be reaping what he’d sowed, no matter the changes, or how far he’d come or- 

Killian sat down, opening the briefcase he’d walked in with. “You have met him, haven’t you?” 

At this Tony could only heave a sigh. How much longer was he going to have to endure this? “Yes. Sir Laurence Oblivier.” This whole racket was set up to fail. That was really why they wanted him, he was sure. 

“I know he's a little over the top sometimes. It's not entirely my fault. He has a tendency- he's a stage actor. They say his Lear was the toast of Croydon, wherever that is.” Hands gesturing vaguely, as Tony looked at him again. “Anyway, the point is, ever since that big dude with the hammer fell out of the sky, subtlety has kind of had its day.” 

Looking over to the window through half, letting his eyes wander again around the room, trying to scan out his exit path- once he broke those bonds, and he would- he made sure to keep it going. “What’s next for you in your world?” It only mattered in that this was a key part of understanding why all of this was happening. Less in any other capacity, because he was going to shut it down. He had to. 

“Well, I wanted to repay you the self-same gift that you so graciously imparted to me.” He held up something in his fist and then leaned forward to roll three metal balls forward on the floor. “But we’re not going for desperation. It’s the other one.” A low-quality image beamed to life in front of him. 

Her. Strapped down. Tears cascading down her cheeks. Teeth tight in a grimace- save for when her mouth moved to call out an easy recognizable shape-

Tony-

He could hear her calling out for him then, like a ghost in the back of his mind. 

She was straining. In immense pain. Her veins seemed to be alight in a terribly familiar orange  glow. 

Pressing his lips together his head shunted down, pulling at his own bonds, feeling a shiver of- 

“Despair.” Killian called it for him. “Now, this is live. I'm not sure if you can tell, but at this moment the body is trying to decide whether to accept Extremis or just give up. And if it gives up, I have to say, the detonation is quite spectacular.” Tony felt himself pulling again, lifting his eyes every other second, wanting to focus on that image of her because this was his fault, but having trouble watching as his brain scrambled. When he found the courage to look at her again, he saw her scream, and he felt his eyes water as his own body rejected the sight, pulling again, shaking the frame behind him. “But until that point, it's really just a lot of pain.” 

The white hot flash of anger swirling in his heart would not save her- no matter how much guilt compounded, no matter how much he understood that this was his fault- her suffering was his fault- 

The room lit up and all eyes directed to the floating image of her screaming, head back all the way, eyes closed tight- entire body seeming to pick up that orange glow brighter and brighter until- 

Until- 

A burst of light moved forward and then severed the connection. The image of her was gone. She- she was- 

“Damn it all.” Killian put a hand to his face, shaking his head. “I asked her not to waste my resources. Ah, well... “ Calmly as ever, considering- “To think I almost had her perfect.” 

“What just happened?” Tony felt himself breathless, muscles tight as he asked this. Still looking at that space where she’d been moments ago. 

Killian shrugged. “Win some you lose some. Seems like we need you after all.” Stepping in, Tony gagged as Killian put a hand around his throat. “We haven't even talked salary yet. What kind of perk package are you thinking of?” His skin was burning where those fingers were clutching, and an orange light touched over Killian’s pupils. 

Maya’s voice boomed. “Let him go.” 

The two looked, seeing her standing in the elevated portion of the room, holding some kind of needle device to her neck. Killian let him go, thankfully, and his head dropped forward. Eyes closing tight. He felt himself asking what just happened- a few more times in a mutter as the two of them squabbled. 

“What are you doing?” “1200 CCs. A dose half of this size, I'm dead. “ 

Maya found her soul. But it really, truly, did not matter anymore. What just happened? What just happened? His brain was reeling. Racing around corners trying to avoid the cliff. Trying to talk himself out of making sense out of what he just saw. Because he already knew. She’d rejected extremis. The feed had cut because she’d exploded- She was dead. She was dead. She was dead and it was his fault. And the last person in the world she’d called out for- 

A shuddering breath escaped him as a gunshot broke his thoughts free and he came to too late, seeing Killian with a gun in his hand and Maya’s body dropping to the ground. 

Killian looked back at him, smiling. “The good news is, a high-level position has just been vacated.” 

There was only one thing Tony knew for sure in that moment. He made sure to keep his vision steady as he looked straight into Killian’s eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.” 

She was dead. It was his fault. Over the course of- what was it- two? Three days now? He’d literally blown up everything he’d ever cared about. He’d endangered her by acting irrationally. He could have just told her to come to Rosehill. They could have met up. She would have been safe. But he’d had to do it his way. So she’d been captured and tortured to death, and it was his fault. And months before all this she’d been suffering in silence because of him. And none of it mattered. All of it was for nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

She was dead. And it was his fault. So the only thing he knew for sure in this life anymore- 

“I’m gonna kill you.” 

Killian let out a short laugh, turning his back on Tony as he walked back up the stairs and out of the room. “Hey, that’s what she said to me before she died. Let’s find out if they’re your last words, too.” 

His voice was quiet, but ironclad. “I’m gonna kill you.” Promising. To himself. To the world. 

 I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. It’s always me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have suffered- you shouldn’t have died- it’s my fault- I’m sorry. I’m sorry…

 “I’m gonna kill you.”

For her. 

                                                    -------

Someone was calling your name. In a whisper. Quiet. Wonderful- because your head was pounding. Aching. And your body was hot. Burning. Burning on every square inch of skin. Burning deep down in your core. Just fire, everywhere. You felt breathless. Panting- lying down- you had no idea where- 

Opening your eyes felt painful. The light then was blinding. 

“Good morning-” That voice. The last voice on earth you wanted to hear. It was only then that your vision was able to focus- “Or- good evening. You know, you made quite a mess. But I’ll bill you later.” Killian was sitting atop you, hand on your throat, holding you down. 

“I’m going to kill you-” The thought ejected out of you without another second to spare. 

He grinned. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?” Leaning in closer, his nose brushed yours. “Was it something I did? My face, maybe? Am I just that unlikeable?” The hand around your throat squeezed. “You should be more thankful, you know. I cleaned you up. Got you some new clothes- well, they’re borrowed, actually, but-” 

Heavy mechanic footsteps played just beyond the both of you, and the two of you looked up to see the Iron Patriot approaching- weird, this was your first time seeing the new paint-job up close- but- immediately you sensed it was not Rhodey inside. Somehow you just knew. 

And as the suit opened up, your new unconscious sense was rewarded, as President Ellis fell out in a heap. Why him? Why now? What on earth- 

“Good evening, sir.” Killian leaned back, though still kept his hand at your throat. With his free one, he gave a mock salute. “Welcome aboard, Mr. President.” 

Getting enough wind back in your lungs, you decided you just couldn’t take any more of this. Reaching up, you tried to claw at his face, but Killian tsk-tsk’ed you and grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Now now, let’s not fight in front of our guests-” 

But, really, honestly. God damn. You’d just had enough. You were not in a state of panic anymore. You were out for blood, and it drove the next several easy movements, Natasha’s training taking full hold of you. You were not a damsel in distress, and you would not be cornered by this man any longer. He’d tried to take so much from you- 

And you were going to kill him. 

Quickly putting your feet square on the floor you thrust your hips up, knocking him forward off balance, then you pushed forward, hooking your arm around his and pulling him down so you could utilize the momentum of his weight crumbling at his side, flipping him over and following him in a roll so you landed on top. From there it was easy. One- two- three clean punches- 

And then he threw off your entire plan by glowing hot underneath you and literally spitting fire from his mouth as he opened it. A small bit of that familiar panic entered you again as you jumped back in a small stumble. Okay. Killian could breathe fire. Wasn’t that fucking great? Looking up you saw one of his armored goons take tight hold of the President, pointing a gun at his head. Trying to cut this all off. 

So you resorted to something much more innate. “Don’t you feel ashamed?” Projecting it on him as Killian edged back on his elbows, inching away from you. In that space that was now warmly orange, brightly lit- no longer dark- you walked over his waves and put your hand to his chest. “Don’t you feel scared?” The man in front of you shivered and gave in so easily. So it was a simple command after that, “Give your gun to Ellis.” 

When he did, Killian finally pushed himself to his feet, “Stop!” 

But the deed was done. President Ellis was now in possession of a weapon, and was aiming it right at Killian. The other men in the room felt the slight terror that had infected their friend, and their resolve was waning. So much so that it was easy to push them. “Everyone leave.” Why couldn’t it have been this easy before? Why did it always have to come down to the last moment- after everyone had already suffered, after everyone had already been hurt- 

If you’d just been better sooner maybe none of this would have happened. And it was that guilt and that anger that consumed you. “Leave, Matthew.” 

“But I-” 

“Go!” 

 “How?” Practically whining at you.

 “You came in the suit, leave in the suit!!”

Killian was still held at bay now that he had no men to cover him, all having fled, and Ellis still pointing a gun his way. For a moment you worried Ellis would ruin everything, but finally he played smart, walking backwards until he stepped inside of the suit again. He threw the gun thousands of feet away then and… then proceeded to clumsily walk out of the room.

With that taken care of… “I’m going to kill you.” Stronger now, though calmer as you told him. 

Killian put his hands down. “You keep saying that.” That orange glow overtook him again. “Let’s see how true it is!” He came at you lightning fast after that, wasting no time. His hands against yours, beat for beat, hooking a leg underneath you to take you down, but you pulled him with you and then threw him away with a kick to his side, rolling up and back to get on your knees. 

He was on you after that, a hand in your hair, but you wrenched his wrist back, only then noticing- The both of you were glowing hot. Elbow back into his groin had him lurching forward and you grabbed his hair, pulling him forward into a center console in a smash. Getting to your feet you pushed your foot into his spine, and really thought finally you might have saved the day-

But an explosion outside rippled through the area and sent you sideways in a tumble. Though it startled the both of you, Killian took the opportunity where he saw it, putting himself over you and mirroring your earlier efforts. One punch to your jaw, the next to your cheek- 

And then another explosion burst forward into the cabin, flinging him away from you as the ceiling ripped open with the force, sending metal and debris scattering down over you. Though you held your hands up to keep the damage at bay, one knocked you right at your temple, and the floor half opened up as yet another explosion bloomed underneath you, leaving you falling half forward while your vision blurred. 

The lights went out- or was it just you? More scrap fell on top of you, trapping you. Your glow died out, leaving you alone- 

But the sound of jets cutting power and a suit landing inside the room drew your attention up. The only man you wanted to see right now kneeled down in front of you, holding his hand. And then really showed you it was him, as the face mask lifted up and back, and you saw Tony stare out at you glassy-eyed. “Give me your hand.” 

He overwhelmed you so suddenly. Ghosts of incredibly deep, soul destroying sorrow clung to him. And a well of fear swirled beyond that. “Tony…” Breathing out hard as pain returned to you. 

“Come on, honey. Just reach.” You realized he was begging you. Something had happened. Something terrible had happened to him. Just as it had you, no doubt. You’d just have to talk about it later. 

Stretching your arm out as far as it could go, you felt the tips of his fingers brush yours only barely. A cry of pain escaped you as you felt metal digging somewhere inside your skin close to your ribs. “I can’t-” 

“You can.” Strong and sure. 

Just as you felt your hand connect, something burst through the floor, grabbing up into the suit’s chest, burning through with ease. Killian pushed his way up from the ground, all of him glowing that hot orange, and ripped through half of the Arc Reactor. Then he shoved Tony back with relative ease. Standing, Killian looked at you. “This guy bothering you?” 

A shuddering breath left you as you hung your head, fist balled to collide with the floor. “I’m going to kill you…” You would. You would. 

You heard his footsteps and looked up as he sat over Tony, holding one of his hot hands out to push a finger into Tony’s suit. “Ooh. Is it hot in there? Do you feel a little stuck? Like a little turtle, cooking in his little turtle suit.” 

Looking up you reached a useless hand out, trying to grab on to anything. “Tony-” Soft and scared now. That courageous fire had left you. Something about the way Tony had looked at you… 

Killian laughed. “She's watching. I think you should close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close your eyes. You don't want to see this.” 

He reeled his other fist back to move in a closing blow, but Tony raised his arm, pointed blade appearing just underneath the wrist, meeting Killians’ arm in a strike that severed. He yelled out as his arm flopped uselessly to the floor, and fell back. Tony sat up. “Yeah you take a minute.” 

The arm that had been cut off burned a hole through the floor, weakening the support underneath you, sending you collapsing down to a lower level in a grunt. A new sensation of pain rained over you as a metal beam pinned your hips. Wherever you were started to move, and as you looked out, you saw black ocean- a dock you were at a dock, you realized too little too late. 

Struggling only made it worse, as whatever was moving you came to a jarring stop, leaving you lurched heavily over an edge that saw only one way down. Far and most likely fatal, a roaring fire burning beneath you, heat hitting you in waves. But your struggles only worsened your situation. It didn’t help that- only just now- you realized the suits- those suits that he’d been building- there were so many. All flying around. Fighting. Fighting. 

The metal holding you up groaned underneath all the weight, alerting you that it was going to drop very soon. But one more move towards the edge made it rumble and shake again, and you felt a fresh wave of pain that had you go dizzy, collapsing forward and putting your head down. Just a moment. You just needed a moment… 

Just as you felt Tony approaching, the sound of chains snapping above you caught your attention, and the platform you were on dropped further still, cut short by the last support holding you. You landed on your back, debris pinning one of your legs, your upper half swinging vicariously over the edge until you shot your hand forward, holding on to a snapped cable just to keep from tumbling over. Upside down, you cast your vision forward, and saw Tony jump down onto a platform beneath you, holding his hand outstretched as he called your name. 

“-I’ve got you! Honey- I’ve got you- I promise-” He was so far away. Too far. There was no way- “Just look at me! I’ve got you-” You swung your arm uselessly, a cry escaping you. He was too far. “Honey, I can't reach any further and you can't stay there. All right? I need you to let go. You've got to let go! I'll catch you, I promise. Trust me!” 

Looking deep into his eyes, you said nothing as you let go. Because you did trust him. You loved him. 

And as you fell forward in a quick slide, jagged metal going with you, your hand touched his barely, and felt yourself falling. Going down- you were going to die- 

The thought stopped as he fell to a kneel, other hand shooting out to grab hold of your arm, stopping your quick descent, jarring another wave of pain through your shoulder. But as you looked up at him- “Tony-”

“I’ve got you.” Promising you this. With a quick pull he reeled you back from the edge and onto the platform. Once you were there, his arms wound around you, crushing you in a tight hug. “I’ve got you…” Head resting at your shoulder. 

You held him back, shaking, now drowning in that fleeting sadness of his. “I love you… I love you, Tony…” Clutching to him. Relieved. Not just for your own life, but his. It wasn’t too long ago that you thought you’d lost everything-

And when that feeling matched it slid into place. You realized. He felt the same way you had. He’d thought you’d died. And that it had been his fault. You could hear it now, echoing. The pain and devastation, as he clung to you.

In your ear he whispered a thousand times, a desperate, “I love you…”  Over and over. At least until the heavy footsteps of Killian approaching the platform finally broke the both of you from one another. 

But as you looked at Tony again, and he at you, one thing became clear. “I’m going to kill this guy.” 

A twitch of a smile touched his lips. “Not before me.” 

“Together, then.” 

A small nod, a lean in so he could press his lips against your forehead. “Together.” 

[chisie12]

Gency Week Day 5: Hyssops/Sacrifice

Day 5: The Dinner, part 2 AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907/chapters/45815473

She was not sure what she should have felt. Happiness? From his worry and care? Guilt from just the damned situation alone? Something was lodged in her throat, hard and suffocating, but it wasn’t from the damp handkerchief. It was cool to the touch as she held it over her nose and mouth, completely covering them but still with a little of space to actually breathe. Her head was bent from having to crouch and she inched closer towards the centre support, leaning against it to rest her fatigued muscles.

She stared at Jack’s silhouette that was roughly outlined against the cloth. She heard him call out, “What’re your statuses, team?” A moment later, he followed up with, “Then commence operations. We have a hostage situation in the hall. And get the entire building on lockdown!”

Team? Angela creased her eyebrows together. Did they already know it was a trap?  

As Jack left, she was left alone with the sounds of screaming and things breaking echoing in the little bubble of her space, and for the first time since she found out part of the truth, she felt no fear. Not a single shred of fear or panic, no worry or anxiety, just an eerie calm that stared at the face of danger head on. At the speed the fog was filling the hall, she guessed that it would take at least thirty minutes for it to fully fill the hall.

It wasn’t as if she trusted Jack fully, that his words meant all the weight they could carry, no. It was the logic telling her that her position right now was the most optimal. With the lack of a weapon and intelligence the true Doctor Ziegler would have, her tiny bubble underneath the table was for right now, truly the safest. And if her assumptions were right, Overwatch was already stationed and prepared.

 ~*~*~

 “What’re your statuses, team?” A deep familiar voice called out over the communication earpiece.

Lifting my hand to activate the microphone, I replied, “I’m in position, commander.”

If Commander Jack ignored the bite in my words or simply ignored them, I couldn’t care less. I remained in my crouch in the alleyway opposite the majestic hotel, awaiting for his next order. The night's chill breathed onto my cybernetic body, trying to creep their way into my skin, but nothing would have been colder than my heart at this stage. The frost encircled the beating organ, using its icy chill to push away any signs of warmth, to forget the happiness she gave me, the smiles and laughter, and especially her tender touches. I palmed the brick wall whose shadow hide my form, fingers digging harshly into it when a surge of anger flared.

No need to be angry. No point in being angry. I'm not needed. I'm not wanted. I'm not loved.

Not anymore.

She has someone new. He fit her better than I ever would. The perfect couple. Beautiful and —ugh— handsome, definitely the perfect pairing.

Not like the beauty and the beast.  

The chorus of “I'm in position” from my teammates drifted in an ear and out the other. I gazed at the building, eyes drooping behind the visor as the grand view struck my mind, leading on a daydream about bringing her to the private table covered by bamboo separators and potted trees and then dining exquisitely. Buying her the best Swiss chocolates I could get my hands on, tease her, make her smile, and who’d know, maybe I would get the courage to ask her out – again.

My surroundings were fuzzy, words flew over my head while the anger subsided into the shadows. It wasn’t until Jack’s clear authoritative voice called: “Then commence operations. We have hostages in the hall. And get the entire building on lockdown!”

Reflexively, I dashed towards the building, through the alleys and shadows, and nimbly scaled up the walls in record time. A few other silhouettes made their moves too, bursting into the hotel and commencing the lockdown. Terrified screams came out muffled through the walls as I quickly ascended onto the higher floors. As the rest of the team secured the lower floors, I infiltrated through a window of the empty toilet on the fourth floor. Ensuring that I was alone, I dashed out and was met with a soulless hallway. The grip on my katana strapped to my back tightened warily. From afar, I could hear the team easily securing the floor below as I stepped across the empty hall way. Diamond Hall was to my left and the Platinum Hall to my right, and while the former was screaming and crying in absolute terror, the Platinum Hall was silent, just as quiet as a grave. Not a single waiter or waitress was in sight, and no strays of a customer walked around.

Odd. This was way too odd.

Odd beyond the fact that there was no sound either. Not one scream, much less a chatter. Anywhere. There was only the soft thuds of my feet against the carpeted floor and the slight squeak of my body. I winced. Pausing in my steps, I stretched my arms and tried to loosen the tightness that wound up. How long could I last in this situation? Shaking my head, I sneaked my way towards the Platinum Hall.

I stood guarded around the corner, ears and eyes peeled for any signs, but there was nothing.

Except for the smallest whiff of a disgusting stench that started to seep through the cracks of the door. It was pungent yet sickly sweet, and it brought about a sense of dread in me. Step by step, carefully and alert, I inched my way towards the large double doors, when all movements halted abruptly. From the cold tendrils curling beneath the door, I saw the milky white fog already seeping through. I stepped back. Under the light, just at the right angle, I caught sight of the green tint in the clouds. Pursing my lips, I relayed to the team: “We have a situation. Casualties unknown but it’s the same Corpse Poison. Platinum Hall, next to target location.”

“Shit. Fuck,” Jack swore. There was a brief sound of winds whistling before his voice came back. “Prioritise Diamond Hall. We need to save the hostages first!”

“Yes, commander.”

Jack’s voice sounded different, as if underlying that strict tone was worry and anxiety swimming just under the surface. He has never shown that kind of care for the hostages before. So, why now?

And it didn't take two seconds for it to click. The invitation. The dinner.

Angela.

Standing against the double doors to the Diamond Hall’s, I pushed. But it didn’t even budge. Glancing down, I heaved a mental sigh of relief at the absence of wispy tendrils waving mockingly at me. Rushed footsteps padded behind me but my attention was solely on the target. The doors made of heavy wood and most definitely blocked. Gripping onto my katana, I urged at the Shimada blood in me to rise, causing a surge of power to channel through my veins and into the slightly unsheathed blade. A sharp green aura flickered around it and a draconic aura flourished in the deathly still hall as what sounded like a dragon’s roar vibrated.

“Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!”

No time to think of another solution, just utter simple brute force as his incoming teammates arrived at the fourth floor to see a translucent green dragon slamming into the doors with a great force with my blade slicing through the wood like a knife to a butter. Splinters from the dragon’s attack flew past my face as I rushed in, immediately catching sight of the bodyguards that stood by the doors. They raised their guns and with lightning quick reflexes, I brought the still shining blade before my face, easily deflecting the bullets away with a few honed swipes. The bullets lodged themselves into the walls behind them, a few accurately hitting the men. With my heel planted into the floor, my calves brimming with strength, I pushed off hard and fast towards the nearest bodyguard, slashing the katana across his neck with one quick slash before darting forward once more towards the second bodyguard. He didn’t even have the time to blink when the swing of my blade found itself across his neck. The arterial spray washed the entrance a crimson red like a fountain of death and I ignored the terror of the humans in the hall, frozen and stock still as though they’d seen a ghost while dashing across the long centre, towards the blond man engaged with a man in silver.

Commander.

The trace of pain upon sighting Jack quickly disappeared. Trust? Loyalty? I had no time spare for those thoughts. Responsibilities pressed against my wishes, duty battered my rationale, and logic overpowered my anxiety. Where was she? I couldn’t see her, not from scanning the hall. I couldn’t hear her, not even a single breath. I vaguely recalled some of my teammates rushing in from behind, half assisting the hostages in their escape and the other half incapacitated the charging waiters and waitresses as I rushed forward to assist the commander. Commander.

I wouldn’t admit it but even his name left a bad aftertaste in my mouth.

Vaulting over a waiter, I sliced at his torso with a quick swipe of my wakizashi in mid-somersault and jumped off the moment my toes touched the floor. A hand stretched out, palming the face of a waitress that was charging at me with a battle cry and she scrambled to attack my hand, desperately clawing at them with her nails, but my fingers maintained their steel grip on her silver mask. I jumped, the muscles in my stomach tensing and I lithely lifted myself up and over her head. Fingers on the mask loosened, twisting around with my body and I kneed the base of her skull. After sending her flying, I spun to my right, unsheathing my wakizashi and slicing at the hand aiming for my throat, the knife dropping onto the floor as the man yowled in agony. Easily darting through the enemies, disposing some and incapacitating some, I left behind a trail of blood in my wake as I finally got to the stage.

The silver masked man glanced over my way and a crazed laughter bubbled from his chest as he leapt back to avoid Jack’s straight punch. Shurikens flew with the flick of my wrist, but the man easily ducked and rolled away, the sharp corners digging into the stage. When he saw the Overwatch team members trying to control the area, he laughed once more. His black eyes glazed over, a tint of insanity shining through as he grinned at them.

“You can try! Run! Run all you want! But all of you will die here with me!”

I landed a distance away from Jack, three shurikens ready between my fingers. Jack craned his head back just the slightest, giving me a look, I didn’t dare analyse. “Genji.”

“Commander,” I curtly replied before gesturing at the mad man with my chin.

Understanding my silent question, Jack heaved a sigh before deftly reloading his handgun and returned his gaze onto the enemy. “Head of the underground drug ring, Slade Voltair, am I right?” The last question was directed at the laughing man before them.

Slade dramatically tilted his head back with the back of his palm against his forehead. “Oh my, you’ve found out my identity. What ever shall I do?” His droopy eyes sharpened as he glared at them from the corner. “Fucking kill you all, that’s what.”

“It’s too late. By now, we’ve already evacuated the whole building,” Jack argued.

Slade bent his body forward, back set into a hunch as he dismissively waved his hand. “Hahaha, really?”

Jack twitched at the smile, his fingers itching to squeeze the jaws and wipe that mockery off his face. He wanted to defend his statement, to argue that he was right, when a voice spoke over the communicator.

“Commander. The whole hotel’s on lockdown. We can’t leave,” Tracer said. “I’ve tried every evacuation route. We’re stuck.”

Jack cursed for the third time that night. Slade burst into ecstasy as he watched the commander’s face twist. “Evacuated the whole building? Haha! An absolute joke.”

My eyes swept across the now empty hallway, opting to find a way out of this instead of listening to their argument, and watching the wispy fog slowly drift downwards like the deathly cloud that it was. The place was already half filled with it and I wasn’t sure if I was feeling glad or dread at not seeing Angela anywhere. The fog had to be coming from somewhere, a main source that fuelled the air conditioning. The vents; this was used as a means of transport. So, perhaps the main unit? If I could find that source and the unit, destroy the connection then perhaps that would give us more time to find a new evacuation route.

I looked up at the air-conditioner, staring at the square vent that the fog was coming in from, trailing across the ceiling to try and mentally map out the system.

“Don’t think you can try and find the source, ninja boy,” came Slade condescending tone, catching my attention. He now stood straight with his weight leaning on a foot and arms crossed over his chest. That silver mask still laid atop his face, giving off a clear contrast to his dark eyes that unrestrainedly showed his disdain. “In about…” He counted off his fingers, “…twenty minutes, the entire hotel would be filled with the poison. And none of you will ever be able to esca – Oh, whoa there! You might hit somebody with that thing.” Slade tilted his body to the side as shurikens flew past his body.

Jack immediately followed up with a few gunshots of his own and he closed in onto Slade in an attempt to reduce the distance. By now the fog was a few heads above us, the hissing unnaturally loud and contemptuous. I was about to rush towards Slade with another attack when Jack stopped me with an outstretched arm.

“Look for the source. I’ll deal with him.”

With a nod, I darted out of the hall.

Jack watched Genji’s back disappear through the busted doors with hidden hopes restrained in his eyes. Please succeed, he prayed. For Angela’s sake.

“Oh my, you’re not asking him to bring the woman out? I’m sure being outside is a lot better than being under the table,” Slade taunted, his hand sneaking into his pocket, but it didn’t escape Jack’s eagle eyes.

With a quick aim, he instantly fired off a shot, forcing Slade to jump back and remove his hand from the pocket. Tutting, the man wagged his finger at Jack in a chiding manner. “All you people are going to hurt someone like this. So bloodthirsty.” Ignoring him, Jack quickly closed into Slade who tutted once more. “Really impatient, Jack. What shall I ever do with you?”

Of course, he wouldn’t be fazed at the other man knowing his name, but the annoyance boiled deep in his system, as hot as lava. If only they hadn’t received the invitation, then she wouldn’t be in the middle of danger. She hadn’t known a single thing, innocent like a child, oblivious to the evils that came together with her identity, at the true identity forgotten and fragmented in her exceptionally brilliant mind. He miscalculated this time, having chosen to trust her in trusting him with everything – ever since she lost her memory that is – and he had to pay for it now. Just because she never mentioned the invitation never meant that she never received it.

It was all his fault and his to blame.

But he couldn’t help but apportion the blame onto Slade as well. For if Slade never sent out that invitation, this wouldn’t have happened. For if Slade never sent out that invitation, the bond between him and her wouldn’t have tensed, and he knew, just knew that it was on the verge of snapping.

Yet, the guilt was an anchor around his neck, weighing him deep into the brine. He didn’t know that his actions had claws that sunk into her neck, pulling her down together with him into the abyss, subtly whispering intentions that swayed her mind, pushing her further into a corner; She needed him, his protection, and he was the only one there for her.

‘I’m always going to be here for you. Trust me.’

But now, all he could think of was: I’m sorry.

As he battled it out with Slade, his eyes glanced over towards the doors, where Genji last left, sending a silent prayer into the Heavens – if they existed – and for once since the whole ordeal began roughly four months ago, he chose to rely on his teammate.

‘Please, Genji. She needs you.’

There was a lot of things that Jack wished he had said. Regret washed his every bone, weighing him down like a heavy boulder sitting on his shoulders. He decided he would tell. If he lived past tonight.

Oblivious to the turmoil wreaking havoc within Jack, I had already run down the emergency staircase, evidently faster and more efficient than any other means now. The hotel’s blueprint drifted into my mind and I mentally searched for the main plant room of the air conditioning systems, going on a whim of understanding that this hotel was centrally controlled by one system, instead of an individual control, and with that that I should head towards the central room to shut it off, thus hopefully halting the flow of the poison. As I burst through the emergency door, I was met with a sea of people huddled together, some screamed in fear as they tried to break open the reinforced hotel doors; Nothing could break in, or out. No one paid attention to the weird guy in a cyborg suit as I snuck my way into the plant room further down behind the lobby, nearer to the back of the hotel. I reached out to open the door, but it refused to move. Confused, I tried to apply force and yet it didn’t budge.

Fires of fury and hatred were smouldering in my narrowed eyes. I got no time for this! Metal screeched under the blow of my wakizashi as I tore it apart in a fit of rage and forcefully kicked it open, but it was in that furious haze that I missed the gunshots that were now embedded in my torso. Disgruntled and staggering back, I glared at the men holed up in the plant room behind my visor, a hand hovering over the broken parts and blood that seeped out from the cracks.

“Fuck! He’s still standing!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Hunched over with heavy breaths, I summoned all the willpower to calm my raging heart as I fought to deflect the storm of bullets coming my way. But her face kept appearing in my mind, frightened and alone, confused to everything that was happening.

‘But she’s Angela! She’ll be fine!’ Was what I kept telling myself, but when you love someone, it’s hard to not worry.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I reflexively dodged to the side at the bullets shot from behind and threw out a few shurikens at my new enemy, when the man cried out in alarm. He ducked to the side at the first instance my arm moved, causing the flying projectiles to miss and lodge themselves at the wall behind him.

“Whoa! Genji! It’s me!”

I ignored the familiar southern drawl as my mind spun with incoherent thoughts. Fast, I just got to go faster, hurry up and get this done. The quicker, the better. Then she’ll be safe. Safer. Everything became a blinding mess of green and red as I made quick work of the men in the plant room. Blood and gore splattered across the large compressor and condenser, and I felt the chill of the place crawling under my skin. Indistinctively, I knew someone was calling my name, but I couldn’t register who it was. All I could see was red. Fury at Slade and his men for putting Angela in danger, fury at them for ever having lived and causing me to miss out on my chance four months ago, fury at them for causing me to lose her. All the missed memories I could have made with her, the laughter and smiles I could have seen, the kirsch in the coffee that only I could take during late night adventures.

I felt something wet and warm upon my cheeks, but I kept on massacring as more men came, having seemingly found where most of them hide. Probably from knowing that the most dangerous spot was sometimes the safest. They appeared from the other end of the room, coming in waves with their masks and suits. Distantly, I heard gunshots that were shot from behind, but my body instinctively left it be, oddly knowing that the sharpshooter was an ally. There was also the fast zipping of something blue before my eyes, but my shurikens weren’t quick enough to keep pace, but I kept trying. Even when my body was screaming in pain, even when my movements slowed. I kept going.

It wasn’t until I missed my strike and staggered in my steps that I paused, staring at the pile of corpses that lay by my feet in a dark worship. My muscles terribly ached and my body was extremely bloodied, the heavy pants coming out in foggy puffs.

“Hey, man. Are you alright?”

I slowly turned my head towards the sound of the voice, an inch by an inch, and the sight of Jesse McCree’s worried countenance filled my glazed vision. Why did he look so blurry?

Warm drops were still on my face when I stared at him and I removed my mask. With the heel of my palm, I wiped the blood away, but all it did was dilute the blood that was already staining my hand. I stared at it in perplexity as more trickled down my cheeks. A stifled sob tried to escape and the dam broke when I heard a heavy step taken towards me. My head shot up to stare at Jesse who watched in agony at the tears that streaming down, weaving and falling against the pale white scars.

Jesse, at that point, couldn’t comprehend why the tears, but he, as well as Lena, had known that for the past four months, Genji…  He’s allowed the hope he carried to slip between his fingers, no longer bound, as his soul crumbled. They didn’t understand how or why Angela would have disappeared without a trace, leaving not a word or a note, and that had taken its toll upon their young friend. But when they stumbled into her at Mercy’s Apothecary (they should have known, with that name), it was as if that hope was rekindled and Genji looked forward to things in life again. He was smiling more, joking more. She was the catalyst to the good things in his life, but at the same time, she was his doom. He’d gone cold inside to escape the pain of abandonment, and the isolation in the bureau hadn’t been easy on him either. They tried to help, to cheer him up, but Genji’s empathy withered and died, numbing his feelings, a total mental anaesthesia.

Jesse took another step forward, holstering his Peacekeeper as he lifted his arms.

My gaze was drawn to the moisture dripping onto my palms, creating a small puddle that overflowed and trickled down my arms. My body was vibrating, from the sobs or the shivers from the chill – I wasn’t sure. And I couldn’t bear move, to wring my hands and fling the pooled tears away – were they really my tears?

I was suddenly pulled into a warm embrace, strong muscles encircling my smaller frame as his beard tickled my bare cheek. “I’m sorry,” came Jesse’s gruff voice. I’m sorry that you’re feeling like this. Sorry that you’re in so much pain and I can’t do anything to help. I’m just so sorry.

The sobs wrecked my body in larger waves and the tears fell harder as I crumbled into his embrace, allowing myself the shortest of reprieves amid this chaos. Just why? Why did this have to happen? I wasn’t allowed to do what I wanted in the Shimada clan. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t be himself – but I wanted to do what I wanted. Even if they despised it, even if they looked down on me. So, I played around, became the perfect, charismatic young man that no women could resist, clubbed and drank without a care in the world, and what do I get from it?

A scarred body from the feud with my older brother.

I had forgiven him though, having been with Zenyatta and learning to come to peace with my cyborg self.

Then when I pined for her, craved and ached for her comfort and smiles, to the point I gathered my courage to formally ask her out, she disappeared. As if she had wanted to escape the harbinger of bad luck that I seemed to be – at least with the wishes that I had. Oh, God. I was just so tired. So, so tired. I really wished I could just give up, give up and forget everything. Perhaps find Zen again. Live like a hermit. That really sounded so good. For now.

“That doesn’t sound good at all, love,” came yet another familiar voice from behind. There was a gentle pat on my back. I fought back the chokes and sobs as I removed my head to look at Lena, large round eyes drooped in worry and care. With another pat on my back, I felt Jesse release his hold on me as Lena cradled my head to her shoulder, cooing as I cried harder into her embrace. Soft touches combed my hair, pats reminding me so much of Angela’s, of when she combed my hair with her fingers, but instead of bringing tranquillity, it brought on another onslaught of tears as I cried for what was lost – and what could have been.

And that’s when I remembered about the mission tonight. This was no time to be crying and sobbing my heart out.

“Yes, yes, it is, Genji,” Jesse chided.

Had I said that out loud?

“Yes, love,” Lena echoed this time. “And I’ve already shut down the main controls. They should be fine now. We just have to find a way out.”

“We probably just have to get the hotel off lockdown.” Jesse chimed in thoughtfully.

I rubbed at my cheeks as they discussed, feeling a lot lighter than I had been in the past few weeks. I breathed in the cold air, feeling the chill wake me up from within. “Then I’ll rendezvous with Jack. The hotel controls should be by the main lobby outside.”

They beamed at me and I returned one back, albeit twitchy and not as smiley, but one nonetheless before putting my mask back on. It wasn’t long after that I returned to the Diamond Hall. There were loud crashing and the floors shook, as though an earthquake was hitting. Paying it no heed, I continued, but it was on my way there that my blood froze and a chilliness unlike the cold air conditioning sweep past my veins.

I had heard a scream from inside the hall, sheer fear having taken the place of confusion at the next words.

“LET ME GO!”

But it was the familiarity of that voice, the sweet voice that would accompany my dinners and my nights, the mellifluous tone bringing me warmth and smiles. And it was her that screamed.

“Angela!”

I dashed into the hall as fast as I could, ignoring the searing pain in my ankle at the misstep that I took. The room was already nearly filled with the fog despite having the main controls switched off. Through the white clouds, there beneath the stage, I saw Slade gripping onto the arm of a blonde woman who wore a golden angel winged mask and Jack groaning as he tried to stand up. He was beaten black and blue, mask fallen, and lip bloodied. Since when did the commander become that shitty in a fight?

But my attention was quickly drawn back to the struggling blonde woman as I helped Jack back to his feet. Her hand was covering her mouth in an attempt to reduce the amount of fog she’d breathe in. If memory served me right, there should have been no one else in the hall; They should have all been evacuated. My gaze floated over to the toppled table behind them and the fallen handkerchief on the floor, when it clicked.

“You – fucking! Let me go, ahh!”

And her voice came again as reality crashed down like a tidal wave. No wonder Jack was extra worried for the hostages. No wonder he had wanted me to turn the main source off.

It was all because she was here, hiding in the hall.

And he never said a word to me.

A growl erupted from my throat as I dug my fingers into Jack’s arm, the anger reigniting in me once more. What the fuck was this man’s problem and informing me of things? My vice-like grip tightened with each passing second, but Jack never retaliated, never argued. Only hung his head in shame.

“Why!” I howled, throwing the man back onto the ground as emotions got the better of me. “Just fucking why!”

Slade chuckled darkly upon watching the scene. “Ooh, infighting? This looks fun. Do go on.”

“You fucker!” I roared at him. It was because of him too! Because of him that Angela invited herself to danger, Angela who had not remembered a thing! Without sparing a glance at the moaning man, I dashed towards Slade, arm pulled back with my fist at ready. Slade tilted left, but I immediately spun around and landed a carefully aimed back spinning kick to his head. My foot barely whizzed past Angela’s head as my foot landed hard upon the silver mask, forcing him to release his hold on her arm. Ignoring the shock of pain that shot up my leg, while Slade was falling to the ground, my body fully completed its spin as I quickly followed up with a jump kick using my other leg, the flat of my foot shooting up and slamming him straight in his face, sending him flying towards the stage. I lightly landed on the floor, gingerly holding onto Angela’s arm with a hand as I did and ignored the man that crashed onto the stage.

I felt pained seeing her dishevelled state. Her hair was in disarray and her cheeks pale. “Angela?” I hated how small my voice sounded, how weak it was.

But I felt her hand on my mask and I instinctively snuggled closer to her warmth. That single touched effortlessly washed away all the aches in my body and I held my bloodied hand up to hold hers, when I paused. I didn’t want to sully her.

“Genji,” her voice called to me softly, snapping me back to reality. My bloodied hand felt warm in hers and I choked back on the sobs I thought were long over. She watched me sadly through the mask before settling my hand on her hip, the red palmprint a stark contrast against her white dress, and… she leaned in. Her arms encircled my waist, freezing me into place.

Her face was buried in my chest, uncaring of all the blood I had on me nor the men I had thrown on the ground (wasn’t one her lover?). I was confused, yet pleasantly shocked. I had decided before to give up on her, to leave with the good memories I had. I thought I was going to do alright by my choice, until I heard my name fall from her alluring lips again.

“Genji…”

My arms slowly wound their way around her waist, taking in her gentle demeaner and beautiful appearance. Leaning down, I breathed in her scent, feeling intoxicated immediately. But then, I crashed back into reality when I took another, smelling the poison now so familiar to me mixed with her scent. In a panic, I quickly removed my mask and placed it over hers. It wouldn’t fit, but the filter in the mask would help. It didn’t seem that she had breathed in the fog for a long time, seeing as there were no warts or pus seeping from her unblemished skin. She hadn’t bled from her any of her orifices or had her skin rotting. “Go, quickly. To the entrance. Jesse and Tracer – Lena – are going to find a way out!” I urged her towards the door, but she kept her grip on my waist, never letting go even when I fitted the mask on her.

“Why weren’t we dating?”

“Huh?” I was caught off guard at her question.

“Us. We were in love. Why weren’t we dating?” She asked again, voice slightly muffled from the mask.

“You were in love with me?” I questioned back, question marks filling my mind. “Didn’t you love Jack?”

She shook her head. “No. The old me, my memories. I remembered some.”

“Wait, you mean –”

“I loved you, you idiot. Why did you never ask me out?”

“B-But – What? Wait, this isn’t the time for that! Quickly, get outta here!”

“No! I’m not leaving without an answer.”

“Now is not the time for your stubbornness, Angela. Please, get out of here.”

We squabbled back and forth, more panic on my end and stubbornness on hers. She tried to return me my mask, but I easily overpowered her with my strength and kept the mask there. With a bitter smile, I leaned it, breath kissing my mask as I gazed into her eyes through the visor. “I’m not at all human, Angela. The poison won’t kill me.” That fast, I didn’t add. Seeing her mouth opening for another argument, I hurriedly added, “I’ll buy you dinner when this is over!”

She was startled, the words somehow striking her as familiar. And I hoped it did. Those were the exact same words she told me when we were chasing Maximilien back in the Overwatch days. That was the exact moment that sparked our dinner adventures, even if they were mostly in her office.

Angela stared into his eyes, searching for a sign, just of anything that he was going to let her go again, but she’ll be damned if she let that happened. Seeing that nothing was wrong, she finally agreed.

“Get Jack out of here too.”

As Angela lifted the unconscious commander by the arm and slung it over her shoulder, there was panicked shout and a crack of thunder before a force pushed her down.

“You’re not fucking leaving this place,” Slade sneered, the blood dripping from his head making him a lot more menacing with a gun held pointed towards them.

A sharp pain attacked her head as her head slammed onto the side of a table. Unwillingly, she felt her mind go black as it slipped unconscious. Her body slumped into a heap above Jack’s. I watched it happen before my eyes as the anger surged once more from the pit of my stomach. Standing up, I turned around, scarred face bare and katana in my grip as I glared at Slade. I felt the same power coursing in my blood as I tried to rouse the sleeping dragon. Everything was hurting, pain zipping through my body as I fought to maintain my focus. One last shot. One last strike. That’s all it was going to take. One move to end it all.

“You will pay for what you’ve done,” I snarled.

Slade was taken aback at the red gleam in my eyes. He quickly collected all his fury, his wits as he pointed the gun at me. “Try me,” he glared back.

“Ryūjin –”

A muffled shot popped through the hall, the sound unnaturally loud during the standoff. All I caught was the sight of a cylindrical dart zipping through the air and hitting Slade square in the cheek. My anger sizzled away at the confusion and I turned back to stare at Ana who stood by the doors with her sniper rifle at the ready. The green aura around my blade died away as I sheathed it.

“Ana, what –”

“Grab them and let’s go,” she said with no room for arguments.

I blinked when a tall muscular man stepped out from behind the corner with his enormous hammer perched on his shoulder. Reinhardt smiled at me and waved a tiny wave. “Genji! We’ve gotten an escape route. Let’s go.”

Coming back to my senses, I dashed back and picked up the knocked-unconscious Slade while Reinhardt easily picked up both Angela and Jack. As we made our way down, I noticed the now empty hotel with the hostages all escaped. It wouldn’t hurt to say I also noticed a large gaping hole by the glass doors of the entrance. Web-like cracks crept along the ground in the direction of said hole and I felt my lips twitch. What happened to switching off the lockdown of the hotel?

As though reading my mind, Reinhardt chortled a belly full of mirth. “The controls were rigged. This was faster. It only took some time.”

And that was how the mission ended. We found out after that the Diamond Hall was reeking and littered with corpses from an event that had begun slightly earlier than the Overwatch celebratory dinner.

I’ve also heard that they found out Slade’s full background history, but I had not have the time or energy to spare for that. Because now I stood, before Commander Jack Morrison’s hospital bed solemnly.

I had felt it, the deterioration of my body. The dead parts of it were slowly dying away and I had no one to help fix me up. I’ve asked Lena if she could contact Winston, but her frown and shake of her head had told me everything. I wistfully thought of Angela, a bitter smile breaking on my face, but that was simply that: Wistful thinking.

And it was with that, that I bowed ninety degrees towards my commander. “I accept any punishment that you’ll give me.” For hurting you, for going against you. And I silently prayed that he’d take care of Angela when I left, for I planned to leave without notice. I ignored the searing pains in my body, the stabs hurting from within. My blood was boiling, my body was overheating.

Jack groaned as he slowly sat up on the bed. The hospital door was locked, leaving only us and the empty vase by his bedside. He looked over at the bowing agent and a tired sigh echoed in the four walls. “I’m not going to punish you.”

“But, commander – ”

“Just leave, Genji.”

I took my bottom lip in with my teeth, unease settling in. I tried to reason it out with him again, but he had cut me off once more, yelling at me to leave. He said no more than that; For me to leave. And leave I did. With one last final bow, I left wordlessly.

Seeing Genji leave and the door clicked shut behind him, Jack buried his face in his hands. He wanted to so badly, at that moment, to tell Genji the truth of everything, but he couldn’t bear to. It would have hurt; hurt Genji, hurt Angela, and hurt himself.

Let him hurt alone. Let him bear the burdens and pain alone, even if he would become their enemy. Because after all, ignorance is a bliss, wasn’t it?

[captainimprobable]

A Good Weird (A Lapidot Oneshot)

This is the first thing I’ve written in two years!!!!!!!! It’s messy, it’s sloppy, it’s not up to par for me, but it’s something and I’m so incredibly happy that it’s finished.  Hopefully one day I’ll be back to what I was. But for now, here’s this teeny tiny one shot. Also the formatting’s weird. I’ll chalk that up to Tumblr, though Ao3 Synopsis: Peridot tries to help Lapis through her first thunderstorm ~~~~ “Percy, I just…I can’t do this anymore.”

The barn was deadly still.  Apart from the conversation happening on screen, the only sounds that could be heard were the distant calls of birds in the trees outside and the combined breathing of the two gems watching in rapt attention.

“I know we’ve spent a lot of time together this summer. I know we’ve gotten pretty close.  But…”

Peridot, eyes glued to the television set, began excitedly tapping Lapis’s arm.  Lapis absently waved her away, mouth open in awe, eyes never leaving the screen.

They’d been waiting for this moment for months. All those hours speculating, all those charts and graphs, countless hours spent theorizing and wondering.  It had all come down to this.  

The unaired Camp Pining Hearts TV movie that Steven had found somewhere in the bowels of the Internet.  

The two gems held their breath.

“I’ve decided.  I’m leaving the Blue Team.”

The rest of Paulette’s words were drowned out by Peridot’s excited scream, punctuated by her fist punching the air in triumph.  

Lapis rolled her eyes, but the effect was softened when she offered Peridot a faint smile.

“I told you, Lapis! I TOLD YOU she’d do it! Strategically speaking, Paulette leaving the Blue Team is the only thing that would assure their victory.  Though I am impressed with her willingness to sacrifice herself for the good of the team.  I may have to reevaluate my previous analysis of her character arc.”

Peridot paused when she realized Lapis was shaking her head.  

“What?”

“I’m not buying it.”

“Not buying…what exactly?”

Lapis steepled her fingers together, resting her chin on her conjoined hands.  She leaned in toward Peridot conspiratorially.

“There’s no way Paulette decided this on her own.”  

Peridot gasped.

“What are you insinuating?”

“I think someone put her up to it.  Remember her whole ‘Forever and Always’ monologue in season 3? She’s not selfless enough to give up her Color War standing just like that.”

Peridot considered this, head cocked at an angle.  “That would mean…she was blackmailed?”

Lapis nodded sagely.  “It makes the most sense.”

Peridot’s eyes widened. “Lazuli, you’re a genius!” She tripped over herself in her scramble to jump down from the truck bed.

Lapis laughed.  “Where are you going?” Peridot was already out of the room when she responded with a yelled “To restructure my charts!” ~~~ Peridot was still scribbling furiously ten minutes later when Lapis burst into the room, a wild look in her eyes.  She didn’t even look up as Lapis scanned the barn.

“Good, you’re here!” Peridot exclaimed, not noticing her roommate’s obviously distressed state.  She kept talking as Lapis searched the room, completely ignorant of everything going on around her.  She didn’t even notice when Lapis started to throw things.

“I discovered that your version of events makes the most sense if you try to-“ A toilet seat flew through the air, coming so close that it ruffled Peridot’s hair.  She blinked, just seeming to realize that bathroom appliances do not frequently fly on their own.  

“…What are you doing??” she trailed off, as Lapis continued on what looked like a mission to destroy the barn.

In response, an engine came flying at Peridot’s face.  She managed to avoid it by panicking at the last minute, throwing her hands in the air in defense, and accidentally using her metal powers to stop the errant piece of debris.

Peridot squinted her eyes open, wondering why her face was still in one piece. She was greeted with an engine floating steadily in front of her. “Lazuli, look what I did-“ she paused, considering the engine. “-totally on purpose! Am I amazing or what?”  She dropped her hands to put them on her hips to stand in a more heroic pose. The engine, unimpressed, fell to the floor with a loud BANG.

When Lapis didn’t respond, Peridot finally remembered that she was in a Roommate Situation.  Tired of being ignored, she cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed. “LAZULI, WHAT IN HOMEWORLD ARE YOU DOING???” Wondering if that might have been a little too confrontational, she added “AND CAN I HELP?”

Lapis jumped, as if she’d forgotten Peridot was there.  She stopped throwing things, but her eyes continued to dart around, flicking from Peridot’s face, to the floor, to the rain lashing against the little window near the roof of the barn ceiling, never settling on one thing for more than a few seconds. With nothing left to throw, she wrung her hands together nervously.  Her wings emerged from her back in preparation to fly, but with nowhere to go they just hung limply, flanking her like two fading, dejected ghosts.

“Someone’s attacking us,” She finally announced.  “We’ve got to pack up our stuff and get out of here”

Peridot, instantly on the alert, squatted as if to make herself a smaller target and scanned the barn.  “Who is it? Is it Homeworld?” She paused, eyes widening. “Of course it’s Homeworld! Oh man I knew this would happen someday, they’re finally coming to get me- Wait,” she glanced at Lapis, finally taking in the fact that they were still alone in the barn.  “Where are they?”

“You don’t hear that?!” Lapis’s voice rose, almost becoming a shriek.  They both paused to listen, but all Peridot could hear was the storm outside.  Then it dawned on her.

“Oh!” Peridot smacked her palm with her fist.  “You mean the rain?” She reached out for Lapis’s shoulder, but pulled back quickly when Lapis flinched.  “That’s okay,” she said, putting her hands up in front of her, the way one might approach a terrified animal. “I was afraid of the rain, too, but Steven taught me-“

“Not the rain,” Lapis interrupted, teeth chattering. “The…the searchlights. The rumbling of a spaceship getting closer.  We just…we need to leave NOW.”  Lapis’s wings began to move, preparing her for flight.  This time Peridot grabbed her shoulder, stopping her from flying away. ‘Wait,” she said, using the calmest voice she could muster. “Please, Lapis, just wait.”

Lapis’s eyes looked stormy, mirroring the weather outside. Peridot internally congratulated herself for that truly poetic metaphor, keeping her eyes on Lapis’s face.  Finally, Lapis retracted her wings.  Another booming sound, and she shrank down against the wall, protectively covering her head with her arms.  

“So why are we risking our lives by staying here?” Lapis’s voice came out muffled.  Peridot gingerly sat down too, making sure to leave a good foot between her and Lapis.

“Because it’s all normal.  The lights, the sounds. It’s not a spaceship, it’s just this…thing that happens on this world.  Another weird Earth thing, like seasons, or bathrooms.”  Peridot rested her head against the wall, watching the rain streaking down the window.  “But it’s…” She paused, a small smile on her face.  “Well, it’s a good weird.”

Lapis poked her head out of her arm cocoon and considered Peridot. Then, in a very small voice, she muttered “What do they do in those bathrooms anyway?”

Peridot nodded sagely, then confidently replied “I have absolutely no idea.”

Another rumble shook the barn, and Lapis retreated back to her safe position.  

“I just…” Lapis faltered. “I don’t like when there’s a threat I can’t even see.  It makes me feel…out of control.”

Peridot let out a breath.  “It’s okay if you’re scared, yknow.”  When Lapis didn’t answer, she continued. “I was scared basically all the time when I first got stuck here.”

Quiet settled over the barn, punctuated only by the heavy drops of rain falling onto the roof.  

Finally, Lapis said in a quivering voice: “There’s nothing to fight. And that freaks me out.”

As if determined to prove her point, thunder chose that moment to shake the barn.

Lapis bit her lip so hard she nearly broke the skin.

“OH!” Peridot snapped her fingers, hit by a sudden thought.

“I’ve come to realize that, while Homeworld is obviously advanced far beyond earth technology, they still underestimate the tech humans do have.”  She pulled out her tablet, holding it close enough to her face that the glow of the screen reflected off her gem.  “The last time anyone studied the earth was thousands of years ago, and they haven’t updated any of their information since.  I’ve taken it upon myself to do that.” She looked around, as though expecting applause.  When she didn’t get it, she turned back to her tablet, a little crestfallen.

“Anyway, there’s this database humans use that I’ve found pretty useful in the past.”  She typed “HELP SCARED OF THUNDER” confidently into the search bar, a shaking Lapis looking over her shoulder.

“Usually your best bet is to click on the first response,” Peridot said knowingly, subsequently clicking on “Did you mean: Help my dog is scared of thunder?”

“You don’t even know what a dog is, do you?”

“Shut up, Lazuli, I’m trying to help you.”

Peridot cleared her throat.  “Okay. According to a human named “Web MD”, step one is to “Make the room you’re in a Safe, Welcome Space.”

The two gems surveyed the room, taking in the fixtures of their daily life: Five toilets, check.  Half a truck sticking out of the wall, check.  Cans hanging from the ceiling in no discernable order? Got em.  

Lapis shrugged. “I guess that’s…good enough?”

Peridot nodded, looking toward the pile of broken televisions all replaying the same somber line.  

“Seems incredibly safe and welcoming to me!”

She peered at Lapis. “Are you…feeling better yet?”

Lapis raised an eyebrow, a peek of her usual attitude peeping through the fear.  “Um. No.”

Peridot huffed.  “Fine. Part 2.” She scrolled down. “Consider a snug garment, like a blanket or sweatshirt.”

Lapis rolled her eyes, managing to look derisive even as her teeth chattered. “I don’t think this is actually helpful.”

Peridot pursed her lips. “Are you or are you not shivering?”

Lapis, shaking so hard her eyes were rattling, immediately answered with an uncertain “I’m….not?”

Peridot didn’t even say anything.  She just stared.  Finally, Lapis sighed. “Fine,” she conceded.

Peridot smiled, happy to be right as usual.  She chattered on as she procured the blanket that usually adorned their truck bed and brought it back to Lapis’s prone form.

“Apparently this is supposed to “make you feel safe and warm”, she announced, settling the blanket around Lapis’s shoulders with much more gentleness than she usually practiced.  

A few seconds passed, during which they both realized that Peridot’s hands were still on Lapis’s shoulders.  Peridot immediately jumped backwards as though her palms had been scalded. “Sorry,” she muttered, shiftily continuing to watch Lapis from her new position three feet away.

“Uh. Yeah.”

A comfortable silence reigned for a few minutes. And then-  

“Is it working yet?”

“No.”

“Ah. Alright.”

Three and a half more seconds passed.

“Now?”

A still shivering Lapis glared at Peridot, but her expression softened when she realized how earnest the other gem was.

“Maybe it’s working…a little?”

Peridot’s face broke out in a smile, and Lapis could swear she felt a little warmer.

Regardless, another shiver inadvertently escaped her.  

Peridot gave a frustrated groan.

“I don’t understand! My research was flawless! What kind of idiot is Web M.D???”

“Are you sure you followed it exactly?” Lapis asked, now unwittingly invested in the plan’s success, regardless of whether it affected her or not.

“Yes!” Peridot said, furiously scrolling through the website once again. “There must be a different approach, or maybe a- oh wait!”

“I didn’t realize there was a part three! Okay, this part is called ‘Cuddle With Your Pet.’”

Lapis leaned in, trying to read over Peridot’s shoulder as she continued to read aloud.

‘To further comfort your dog, it is suggested that you initiate human contact with him.  Touch will reassure your pet that they are not alone, and the extra warmth will calm him down.’ Excellent,” Peridot exclaimed, “We’ll just do that!”

“Uh, okay.” Lapis furrowed her eyebrows.  “Do you know what cuddle means?”

“No idea. But it shouldn’t be too hard to-“ A green blush appeared on Peridot’s face, and she quickly turned the brightness of her tablet down.

“Oh. Um. Well.” Peridot coughed, looking at everything but Lapis.

“What’s wrong?” Lapis squinted, inching closer to get a better look at the screen.  Peridot stood up very suddenly.

“Oh, there was just…a picture explaining,” she said, in a clear attempt to appear offhand.  It was not successful.

“Okay, what’s the picture of?”

Peridot’s blush deepened. “Nothing! It’s not- it won’t- nothing!”

Lapis laughed, unable to imagine what could make Peridot look this flustered.  “Okay,” she said.  “Now you have to show me.”

Peridot coughed and looked up, as though willing Lapis’s imagined alien spaceship to abduct her and take her anywhere but there.  Finally, she wordlessly turned the brightness back up.  The horrifying picture of a dog and its owner snuggling under a blanket leaped back onto the screen.

Lapis went quiet. “Oh.”

“Haha yeah,” Peridot said awkwardly. “That’s. Obviously not something we’re going to do. Gems-“ Peridot clapped her hands together. “Well. Gems just…we don’t do things like-“

Lapis remained silent, appearing very interested in a spot of the barn floor.

“Well.  Contact..I mean..casual touch is just…not something we-“ She nodded decisively.  “Anyway! We’ll do something else!”

“Let’s try it.”

“And besides, it probably wouldn’t work anyway, our bodies aren’t that warm in the first place…“

Lapis coughed, and said it a little louder.

“Let’s try it.”

“-completely miniscule idea that- What?”

Peridot paused her monologue, noting that Lapis seemed to look a shade blue deeper than usual.  But she chalked that up to her imagination.

She felt her heart beat faster as Lapis lifted the blanket off her left shoulder, definitively not looking at Peridot, but still providing a clear invitation.

“Are you sure? Maybe we could do something else, we-“ Peridot’s words stumbled to a halt as Lapis rolled her eyes again.

“Peridot…shut up.”

Peridot gulped, looking torn. “O…okay.”

She made her way to the wall at a snail’s pace.  Checking to make sure Lapis was still okay with it, she gingerly sat down next to her. When Lapis threw the corner of the blanket over Peridot’s back, her hand momentarily brushed  Peridot’s shoulder.  

Peridot gulped.

For a few moments, silence reigned, and Peridot realized she was suddenly hyper aware of everything.  The way the each lightning strike lit up different parts of Lapis’s face, turning each plane a different shade of brilliant blue.  How Lapis’s thin arm felt against hers.  

After a few tense minutes, during which Peridot refused to relax, Lapis let out an unexpected giggle.

Peridot jumped. “What?” she asked, talking loudly in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

Lapis leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes. “This is just so….”

Surprising?

Terrifying?

…Nice?

“Weird,” Lapis finished decidedly.

Peridot’s face screamed emerald as she hastened to untangle herself from the blanket.  Embarrassment didn’t even cut it.  “Well I’m sorry this was such a disappointment to you, maybe next time I’ll just leave you alone, excuse me while I go STICK MY FACE IN THOSE TOILET BOWLS OVER THERE, that should really do-

“Wait,” Lapis grabbed Peridot’s hand, definitely blushing now.

“It’s…it’s a good weird.”

For once, Peridot was speechless.

Lapis looked up, eyes finally settling on Peridot’s face. “You can come back, if you want.”  

Peridot gave a small nod, and let Lapis slowly guide her back down the wall. Lapis grinned in spite of herself.  

“Hey Peridot?”

“Yeah?”

Still holding her hand, Lapis rested her head on Peridot’s shoulder.

“I hope it rains again.”

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Soft Names, Soft Touches

 Chapter Twelve

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Bucky x OC | Word Count: 4.3K+ Warnings: Angst. Violence. Russian that may or may not be correct.

Franki reached the roof in record time. Racing along the narrow edge towards the next building. Already she could hear the agents shouting she was on the move. Glancing down toward the road, she could see they were following her. Good. If anything happened to Jack or his family, she’d never forgive herself. Focusing ahead, she took three long strides and leapt across the alley. Landing lightly, she continued on across the roof of the next building, repeating the process a few times as the men following scrambled to keep up. She would work her way back toward the park, get Hydra to follow her there, and deal with these agents on her terms. A shot rang out. Heat washed swiftly across her arm. Her display lit up, and she put on a burst of speed. “Not good, Friday,” she murmured. The bullet had only grazed her arm, but the one that plowed through her side had caused a multitude of injuries. The worst of which was the internal bleeding.

“Franki?” “Tony?” she panted, skirting along another roof and leaping another alleyway. Dropping down onto a building which was only three stories tall, Franki dropped from it to the road. “Yeah, precious. I’m coming to you. What’s the plan?” Landing hard, she rolled through an intersection, narrowly avoiding being run over. Coming up running, there was the tell-tale sound of boots pounding pavement behind her. “Heading for the park. Northern Woods,” she wheezed, darting through traffic and weaving through parked cars. She had another three blocks to go before she made it to the cover of the trees. “Francessca?” She sounded terrible, and Tony kicked up his speed. “Took… a bullet,” she said, ducking when another shot rang out. It slammed into the brick wall near her head and set her swearing. There were too many people on the street, even at this time of night, because it was so close to Halloween. Too many innocent bystanders now screaming as shots were fired. The roar of a speeding engine barreling down on her had Franki gritting her teeth. Leaping up on a parked car, she raced across the vehicles. Making herself a target, she set off alarms as she lashed out at a lamppost. The metal bent, toppling down across two parked cars before falling in between them and blocking the path of the SUV speeding the wrong way down the one way street. Jumping back to the road, Franki sprinted for the trees she could see in the distance. A red streak went past her the opposite direction. She gave a tired smile. “About time you showed up,” she said, racing into the traffic and sliding over the hood of a cab which nearly rammed into her. “Give ‘em hell, kotenok.” “Get your ass undercover, Francessca!” Tony barked. Holding up his hand, small rockets lifted from the arm of his suit. Each one honed in on a target and exploded with a loud hiss and pop, releasing gas which had all the Hydra agents falling unconscious to the ground. Yes, it was much more satisfying to blow stuff up, but he was in no mood to foot the bill the city would try and throw at him if he did. “There are more of them in the park, precious! Watch yourself.” “Thanks, Tony.” “Friday, have NYPD dispatched to my location and inform them of what’s happening in Central Park. Get the area cordoned off.” Tony's head snapped up as she muttered, yes boss, attention caught by the man running towards him. “Stop!” Holding up his badge, Jack called out, “I’m Jack O’Shea! I’ve got this location. Go, help Franki!” He couldn’t sit back and let her go on her own, no matter what she’d said. His wife had wholeheartedly agreed and was waiting in May’s apartment for police to arrive along with his Captain. It was going to be a fucking circus when it all went down. His partner was dead in his home, along with four other Hydra agents, but he couldn’t just sit back and watch as Franki ran for her life. “Thank you, Officer. NYPD has been notified of the situation.” Tony nodded and flew off after Franki. Franki stumbled into the trees, finding the deepest shadow she could. She collapsed into it at the base of a broad tree trunk. Leaning against the rough bark, she swore silently to herself as she read the display which spoke about her vitals. She was losing too much blood, was still bleeding internally. She needed a minute – or ten – to let her body heal up. A snapping twig had her head jerking up. It was dark in the woods, but the red beams of laser sites weren’t exactly hard to miss. The gun in her hand, a Beretta 92, had been fully loaded, two rounds fired, which left her with seven shots. She had used the knives at Jack’s and left them behind, and hadn’t brought any with her when she’d fled the Tower. It was a stupid, rookie mistake. “Friday? Little help?” From the look of her readout, there was a hell of a lot more than seven men after her. “I’m recalibration the bots. I can give you two knives before the integrity of the suit is compromised.” Seven bullets and two daggers… against a hoard of Hydra agents? Well, she wasn’t called Reaper for nothing and… her team was out here, too. “Time to go ghost, Friday,” Franki murmured as she swiftly made her way up the trunk of the tree. She’d just have to plunder a few bodies as she went. They would expect her to run for the Tower, a calculated risk. Too bad they would be wrong. Franki was going hunting.

Bucky raced for his room only seconds after Stark took off, tearing the clothes from his body with brutal efficiency. His gear was still waiting where he’d let it all fall. Many of his weapons still sheathed or holstered. He jerked the gear back on. The long sleeved black shirt he pulled over his head would hide his arm nicely, and he slammed the vest to his chest viciously. Hydra was after Franki. She was out there, running for her life, alone. He’d never wanted so badly to both hug and spank someone at the same time. “What the hell were you thinking?” She’d run from him. An action she’d once said was pointless. She'd promised to stop ripping out his heart. Yet she’d done it again. Leaving what felt like a gaping, bloody hole in his chest. Checking everything over with practiced ease, he went to grab new ammo and picked up the Barrett from the top of his go bag. The long-range rifle was like his good luck charm. Tonight, he needed all the luck he could get. “Bucky.” Cap was ready, his shield tucked on his back and guns strapped to his thighs. Bucky nodded. “Ready.” Turning to face Steve, he picked up one item from the bag he never used anymore; wasn’t even really sure why he’d kept it. “You don’t need that,” Steve murmured, pointing to the half mask which had for so long proclaimed Bucky the Winter Soldier and an agent for Hydra. “They hunt what is mine. They bring this on themselves.” They had unleashed the devil in him they had caused to be born. He wanted them to see what they had wrought. They needed to know hell had more mercy than he did this night. Rising to his feet, Bucky pressed the mask to his face. “Are you with me, Steve?” Hard, cold, winter soldier eyes looked through him. Steve nearly shuddered. It was a look he had hoped never to see on his friend’s face ever again. The question was one he and Bucky had exchanged many times. In an alley back in the day, on a crashing Shield Helicarrier, but the one which stuck out starkly in his memory was standing overlooking a long ravine while waiting on a train. A mission which had ended… badly. Steve was determined not to repeat history. “To the end of the line, Buck. Let’s go get your girl.” Shouldering his rifle, Bucky jogged out the door, following Captain America to the roof. In his head, all he could hear was Franki’s voice… You are the soft snow, falling in fat flakes over dense forests when you hunt the prey of an assassin, silent and so still. And you are the blizzard, swift and vicious when you rage through a building in search of your comrades… Tightening his griping on the strap for his rifle, he felt a wave of cold rage rush through him. Bring on the blizzard. Natasha, Sam, Clint, Scott, Vision and Wanda looked up when they boarded the quinjet. Hope van Dyne had stayed behind to help monitor things from the tower, but the only one to smile was Natasha. “You bringing the blizzard, Barnes?” “Da,” he rumbled. It did not surprise him she understood. “Good,” she smirked as Clint got them airborne. “Franki’s heading for the snow leopard pen at the zoo. It was our prearranged meeting place if something went sideways. Stark did a sweep as he headed over the park and there’s a shit ton of hostiles coming from all directions. They’ve called in the cavalry for her.” “Stark’s knocked out the bunch that were chasing her, letting Franki get into the Northern woods, but she’s gone stealth-mode with her suit. We’ve lost tracking, and without a com, the only one who’s got contact with her is Tony through Friday, so we’ll be dropping teams of two off as we go over. We have to take out as many of these agents as possible between her and the zoo in case she slips by us. It will be our rendezvous point,” Steve said as the others stood ready. “Nat’s with Clint, Wanda’s with Vision, Sam’s with Scott. I’m with Bucky. Let’s get this done.” Natasha’s hand went to her ear, and she flinched. “She’s been shot. Don’t know how badly, but Tony said her breathing was laboured.” They all looked his way. Bucky only turned to face the door and put in his com. “You drop us north of the lake.” They were going to find her and bring her home. Anyone who got in his way was going to regret it. The doors opened on the back of the quinjet, and Wanda stepped up beside Bucky. “We will find her. Hydra cannot have our family.” He only nodded, eyes cold and hard, and she reached out to him. Her power glowed red around her eyes. “Do not forget who you are now, my friend. You are not the monster they made you. Franki will need the man you have become when she is again home with us.” Bucky glanced at Wanda. “I won’t let her go. I don’t care if it is some Hydra shit they put in us. I won’t let her go.” Nodding slowly, Wanda smiled. “Good hunting, Sarge.” “Wanda and I will clear the area around the zoo. We will be better equipped to deal with the animals, as well as keep civilians from wandering into the area.” Taking her hand, Vision pulled her against his body and flew out the door. “We’ll clear the area between the lake and the zoo. Give you guys a nice straight path.” Sam bumped Cap’s shoulder and nodded to Bucky. “You’ll find her, man.” “Yeah, Bucky. I’ve got a few of my fliers out looking, too.” Scott had set the ants to the task. They were nothing if not determined. Shrinking, he jumped up to Falcon’s hand and ran up to hold onto his shoulder. “Let’s do this!” he hollered as Sam walked off the back of the quinjet. “We’ll run the circuit,” Natasha called back. “Clean up the perimeter and make sure no one is coming up behind you. Tony’s going to do what he can to keep tabs on Franki.” “You tell him to tell her to come straight for the north meadow. The path we walked between the ball diamonds. Tell her,” Bucky's voice grew rough, “tell her I brought the Barrett.” Steve’s hand came down on his shoulder, and he gripped the doorway tightly. “Vorobey, do not miss.” “Have I ever?” Clint huffed, ignoring the sparrow comment. “Same goes for you, snowflake.” “Hm,” Bucky growled and walked off the back of the jet when it slowed to a hover on the north side of the lake. Shots rang out, and he ducked, throwing his left arm up. Bullets tore through his shirt, bouncing off the vibranium and he was quick to fire back. “Dived and conquer?” Steve called out, landing beside him, shield raised to avoid getting shot. “Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “Rather not blow up the park if we can avoid it.” Swinging behind a tree, he leaned around it and shot three agents as Steve took off the other direction. They worked their way around the tennis courts, Steve skirting left, Bucky taking the right, clearing out what agents they came across on their way towards the rec center and the ball diamonds.

“Hey, precious?” “Tony?” Franki whispered. She was laid out on a tree branch above three Hydra agents, waiting for them to get in the perfect position. She’d managed to take out a few others already, collecting a second-hand gun and two grenades, but was loathe to use them, not wanting to make herself more of a target. “Got a message for you, doll. Your man’s waiting for you in the North Meadow. You’re to head for the path between the ball diamonds. He brought his good luck charm.” Tony’s voice was a touch smug, but it was the message which made her heart both leap and plummet. Bucky… He’d come hunting, and he’d brought the Barrett. A tear dripped from her eye to splash onto the bark. Pressing her fingers to her mouth, she stifled the cry in her throat. Even with everything she knew of her… condition her heart still yearned to be with him. Her head, however, knew it was simply not possible. Yet, she wasn’t getting out of this without her team’s help. It just meant she’d have to cut ties with Bucky face to face. So much harder. The thought and the heartache it brought with it had her nearly missing her opportunity. Dropping silently to the ground behind the third man, Franki used her bot created knife, a weapon which was sharper and harder than any she’d ever seen before. Thrusting it quickly between his first and second vertebrae, she gave a little twist. He didn’t make a sound as she lowered him to the ground. Retrieving her blade, Franki skulked up behind contestant number two. Becoming a living shadow, she waited patiently at his back for his partner to get a little further ahead. “Hey, George?” The man’s unexpected voice nearly made her jolt, but she quelled the reaction and waited. Somebody’s a rookie. Who the hell talked when they were hunting? “What, Matt?” The second man whispered. “You know they call her the Reaper right.” “Yeah. So what?” “Well, aren’t reapers, like, invisible and shit? I’ve heard she’s cleaned out entire floors before and no one seen her comin’.” “What’s your fucking point, man? She’s a chick! She ain’t that good.” The second man scoffed at her and Franki decided he was going to go down with a bit more theatrics. “What you think, Evans?” Matt said low to the man who had been strangely quiet. “Evans?” Her target slowed to a halt, and she ducked around him as he turned. “Evans? That ain’t funny, man,” Matt hissed angrily, trying to keep his voice down. Before George could turn around, she plunged her knife into Matt’s jugular and disappeared into the shadows of a large elm tree. His body hit the ground with a solid thump. George swung around, gun raised. Panning the barrel back and forth, he looked for an assailant. Both Matt and Evans had been taken out. He hadn’t even noticed. “Reaper, huh? You going to come out and play with the big boys?” She very nearly snorted as she climbed the trunk of the Elm. Walking the limb on silent feet, Franki stood above him and cast her gaze out over the woods. More warm bodies were headed her way, denoted in red, while in the far distance two blue ones waited. Snegopad. He would bring the blizzard, he would come for her, but for now, he waited. Still, there was a heck of a lot of red between her and him. Turning her eyes back down, she cocked her head at the man below her. When he lowered his weapon, she stepped from the branch. Landing in front of him, she ripped the rifle from his hands. “I see only little boys,” she spat right before punching him in the face. George stumbled back, hand going to his nose, and swore viciously. “You bitch! You broke my nose!” Looking up, he blinked away the pain and spun a complete circle. Not only was she gone but she’d taken his rifle. Standing at his back, Franki whispered near his ear, “So, I am only a chick? I will be no trouble, da?” He spun, and she went with him. “You think you can kill me?” She stopped, and he spun around, eyes filled with terror when she simply appeared before him. “Think again.” Sweeping his legs out from under him, she followed George down. Plunging the knife into his chest, she watched the life drain from his eyes. Heat washed suddenly through her abdomen. Franki choked on her next breath. She coughed and wetness sprayed in an arc. It had her hand coming up to pass through her display and press against her lips. Her fingers came away bloody. She stared at them in confusion. “What… Friday?” A large red display was reading Warning! Trauma, possibility of death and had her looking down to see the knife embedded between her ribs. “Oh…” “Franki, whatever you do, do not pull the blade out,” Friday cautioned. “But I can’t heal…” She couldn’t heal with the knife in. “If you pull out that blade, you will bleed out in seconds. Leave it be, Franki!” Friday commanded. “Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers are just beyond the Loch. Go. Now, girly!” The Irish in her voice was heavy with urgency. Franki stumbled to her feet. Holding her hand to the knife to keep it from shifting more than it already was, she started carefully forwards. There were agents all around her, and she did her best to become a shadow, the tech in the suit suddenly invaluable. She owed Tony so many dances for this. When she found a clear spot a few minutes into her journey, she mumbled out a message, “Tony…” “How you doing, Franki?” He was working around the North Wood but was afraid to get too close in case he accidentally shot her unable to see her. “Tell Bucky… on my way… need… help…” she stumbled into a sapling of some kind. The whole thing shook violently. “Not going… to make… zoo….” “Francessca!” Tony barked, but when she didn’t answer, he growled out, “Friday, you need to get through her stealth-mode!” “I can’t boss. You designed it to be undetectable. If I can’t find it, how am I to hack it?” “Backtrace her!” he snapped. “I don’t care what else we get, just get me a goddamn physical readout on Francessca.” It took the AI far longer than he would have liked, but when it finally popped up, he nearly fell out of the air. “Son of a…”

Flying up above the woods, he contacted the team. “Franki’s not going to make the zoo. Everyone get your ass to the north meadow!” “Stark?” Steve said, kicking his shield into two agents. “She took a knife. It’s bad.” There was nothing but static over the comms for a moment before everyone acknowledged the change in plans. “Friday, get me Helen.” Noticing three cooling bodies, he dropped to the earth. Maybe he could track her from the ground. “Tony, its Hope. Helen’s prepping for surgery. You get her here, we’ll be ready.”

Five shots rang out, and five bodies fell between Bucky and the far woods. Shouldering the Barrett he’d so carefully placed, he got to his feet. “Steve...” “Go. I’ve got this.” He’d hold there until the others arrived. Stepping out of the trees, Bucky gave no thought to his own safety when he raced down the walking path towards the woods. “Hold on, baby. I'm coming for ya.”

Franki knew instantly she’d made a mistake. Falling against the tree had a half-dozen red dots turned her way and start converging. Swearing silently, she slunk into the underbrush. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight. Was growing weaker and more tired all the time. “Franki, you can’t go to sleep.” “Friday…” she whispered, “Tell Bucky… I’m sorry I ran away… tell him… on byl moim solntsem. YA lyubila yego vsem, chem ya yavlyayus'.” “Franki, you have to stay awake. Franki? Franki!”

Bucky raced over the 102 street crossing, plowing into the southern edge of the forest where he slowed to listen. “Natasha?” “Yeah, Bucky?” “Can you give me a reading on the location of the rest of Hydra’s men? Anything look off?” “Yeah, actually. There’s of a group of them converging on an area two hundred fifty feet ahead of you.” He was already running silently down the path, slowing after only a few seconds. He crouched to let his hearing find what it would. There was six of them, all searching through the area. They called quietly back and forth between each other. Something had disturbed a tree, making enough noise to need investigating. He was up and moving in a flash. The first two went down with little resistance, a knife going through the temple tended to do that. The third turned in time to see his own death as Bucky snapped his vibranium fist into the man’s nose. The fourth put up a pitiful fight, and he simply switched his knife to his other hand. With a quick toss and flip, he thrust it through the man’s heart. Drawn in by the scuffle, he picked the fifth off with a well-thrown blade to the eye before snapping his fist around the last one’s throat. Thrusting him straight up, Bucky held the soldier high in the air. Making his point with a tight squeeze, he stripped the man’s gun away with a slash of his other hand before slowly lowering him down. “I have a message for your boss. Come hunting for what’s mine again, and I will end them. I don’t give a shit who they are.” With a mighty throw, he chucked the soldier back out on to the path. “Run, before I change my mind. Then get out before you end up dead.” The man was barely more than a kid. He stumbled away into the dark.   Sirens could be heard screaming from all over to converge on the park. Bucky knew the rest of Hydra’s men would start to fall back. They’d failed in their acquisition and wouldn’t want to lose any more assets than they already had. “Franki? Doll, I need you to answer me,” he called out, listening intently for any sign from her. “I know you’re scared, baby, but we can figure this out. You need help, moya zvezdochka.” He hoped like hell she wasn’t unconscious or he might never find her. Walking further into the bush, he stopped again to listen. The park had gone deathly still but for the sirens wail. “Come on, doll face. Talk to me!” he growled only to pause. There was a beating, slow, weak, thready, but it had to be her! Her heart just kept giving her away. “Okay, okay, sweetheart.” Dropping to his knees, Bucky called out, “Friday! I need you to deactivate the suit.” The AI would have kept her in stealth mode as long as there was danger. A change of emerging colour had him snapping his head around to find Frank’s shadow suit turning completely white, giving him a beacon in the dark. “Franki!” He pounced on her, rolled her gently to her back. Found a knife sticking from between her ribs. “Oh, god. Stay with me, baby!” Pushing her hood back, he hissed at the bloody foam on her lips. “STARK!” Bucky bellowed. The man in the Iron suit crashed through the trees not far away. His mask snapped up, and Tony stared in horror at the petite woman. “Give her to me. Helen’s got the room prepped. I can get her back faster.” Bucky had been almost afraid to touch her but was swift to scoop her up and deposit her in Tony’s arms. “Tony…” “Everything we can, Barnes,” he promised before his facepiece snapped down and Tony took off. Bucky raced back to where he’d left Steve only to find the others waiting for him. He was quick into the jet. When Scott, Vision and Sam remained on the ground, he looked to Steve. “They’re going to deal with police. Make sure everything gets cleaned up before morning.” It wouldn’t do to have civilians come across a dead Hydra agent. “Managed not to blow anything up at least,” Steve said. “Bucky?” “There was a knife in her, and blood on her mouth,” Bucky said, thrusting his hands through his hair. “Steve.” Despair filled blue eyes looked up at him, and Steve felt more helpless than he had as the little guy he’d once been. “She’s a fighter, Buck. She’s going to make it.” “Yes, Franki will be alright,” Wanda agreed, holding a towel to her arm. An agent had gotten off a lucky ricochet, but it was only a graze. “That girl’s tough,” Clint called from the cockpit. “And she’s got her healing powers don’t forget,” Natasha offered. “She’s going to be fine.” She had to believe Franki would pull through. Any other option was intolerable.

Next Chapter

[jsmulligan]

A Not So Simple Patrol

I don’t think I will ever understand the Hive.  Quite frankly, I don’t think I want to.  The Fallen, I can understand.  I could even sympathize with them a little bit, if they weren’t always trying to shoot me in the face.  Having once been blessed by the Traveler, then being left behind; yeah, I can see trying to track it back down.  The Cabal are warriors; I can respect that.  I hear the Vex are trying to find a timeline in which they survive.  Again, fair enough, so long as that doesn’t involve taking potshots at me.  The Hive though… Biting, clawing, shrieking undead things, ancient and dark, seeking to blot out the Light?  I’ll pass.

Before you ask, I can see the irony in a Guardian being weirded out by things that should be dead but aren’t.  Contrary to whatever a Warlock might tell you, Titans do have brains.  Irony doesn’t count for much when something is leaping out of the shadows at you, and my brain is currently thankful that my helm was tougher than that Thrall’s claws and that it’s still inside my skull.  For now, at any rate.

The Thrall had thrown themselves at me almost as soon as I’d set foot in the tunnel.  They had come so quickly out of the shadows that they were on me before I had time to react.  I punched the first one as her claws raked my helmet, the stored void energy in my fist disintegrating her on contact as a force barrier sprang up around me. Bringing my shotgun to bear, the others crumbled to dust and ash, the buckshot tearing through them.  I was on the move again before all the flakes had settled to the ground.  I reloaded my weapon, the New Monarchy red glinting in the light provided by my Ghost.  The Burden of Proof might not kick as hard as some other models, but it was quick and steady, and the solar rounds were a nice bonus.  

The tracker in my HUD was not registering any movement near me, though it had somehow missed the Thrall, so I was not putting a lot of faith in that.  My Ghost, Elgan, and I travelled cautiously through the tunnel of dust and moon rock.  This crevice was one of many that had yet to be marked or explored, and Elgan seemed to enjoy that fact.  Every now and again, the path before me would go dark as he would get distracted by a mark or stone formation and turn to investigate.  A flick to his new olive green shell would bring his attention back to the matter at hand.

The lack of resistance was curious.  Maybe the Hive knew we hadn’t found this opening yet, so guarding it hadn’t seemed a priority, or maybe they didn’t even know about all the cracks they’d causes in the lunar surface with their burrowing.  A few hundred meters in, the surface beneath my feet changed.  The natural rock gave way to manufactured structure, and I found myself entering a Hive construct. Something in the rock must have been disrupting my sensors, because I was suddenly detecting a lot of movement.  Thankfully, none of it was moving toward me yet.

“I am picking up a lot of activity,” my Ghost chimed, stating the obvious.

“Thanks for pointing that out.  Any idea where should start looking?”

The Ghost floated away from my shoulder, his shell expanding as he did a quick sweep of the area.  Ever since Luna had been reopened for Guardian activities there had been a growing interest in locating anything related to The Great Disaster, the ill-fated attempt to drive the Hive from the moon.  Guardians on strike or patrol had come across broken weapons, shattered Ghost shells, and scraps of armor, much of which found its way back to the Tower for memorialization. Rumors of phantom signals and material signatures kept popping up, hinting at greater finds waiting to be brought to the surface.   We were following one of those rumors now at the request of the Vanguard.

“I am not currently detecting anything unusual at the moment, but the previously recorded sensor readings came from… this direction.”

A white waypoint marker appeared on my HUD.  I turned my head from side to side, watching it slide across my vision, making sure it was locked on target.

“Got it.  Let’s move.”

I stuck near the wall as best I could, hoping to avoid detection.  That became less of an option when we rounded a curve and the wall suddenly gave way to open space.  The Hive had hollowed out a huge section here, the bottom of which was lost to sight.

“This goes down a very long way,” Mr. Obvious chimed in again.  “What were the Hive doing here?”

“Never stopped to ask them.  I usually just punch them or shoot them.  You’d be more than welcome to try if you’d like.  I could toss you at the next knight we find, you could have a private conversation behind his shield.”

“What is it you like to say?  ‘I’ll pass.’”

“Suit yourself.”

Leaning out over the edge and looking down, I could see several more levels like the one we were on that were open to the abyss.  The marker seemed to indicate that previous signals had been detected lower than our current position.  There would be a lot of Hive along the way. If we were to start a little lower, though…

“Think I could make that jump?”

“What?”

“There are two more levels here.  The walls curves out slightly.  I think I could jump down from here, save myself a whole lot of walking.”

“If you miss, I’m not flying all the way down that hole to revive you.”

“Fair enough.”

Taking a moment to gauge the distance, I put a hand on the ledge and vaulted over.  Almost immediately, I realized I’d put a little too much force into the jump.  Thank the Traveler for Lift.  Using the Light to defy gravity and physics, I slowed my descent and pushed myself back toward the wall.  I noticed an unwary Acolyte standing in the walkway.  Angling myself toward her, I braced for impact and lowered my shoulder, crashing into her just as she started to turn.  My momentum slammed us both into the opposite wall, and a quick punch was all it took to finish her off.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t noticed the others to the left.

There were two of them, and they opened fire immediately, energy rounds from their Shredders pelting the wall and floor near me before one caught me, lowering my shields.  I leaped backwards, rolling behind a column that jutted from the floor.  Needing a little more range than my shotgun provided I switched to my Haakon’s Hatchet, looking from cover to let loose a stream of armor piercing rounds.  The first Acolyte went down in a pile of ash, but the second had taken cover. A lot of movement on the tracker now.  Apparently the firefight had caught someone’s attention.

Darting from cover, I charged the Acolyte’s position, catching her off guard.  Pulling the trigger, I stitched a line of bullets from her chest up to her head, causing yet another burst of ash as she fell apart.  Screams echoed down the hallway as a line of red dots tracked their way toward me on my HUD.  More Thrall.  Focusing on the approaching mass, I missed the other shrieking sound mixed with their cries and didn’t see the ball of starfire coming at me until the Boomer round crashed into the ground at my feet, sending me flying backward to slam into the short wall separating me from the abyss. Arc energy sparked where I’d been standing and coursed over my armor, standing in stark contrast to the darkness closing in on me.

I shook my head, trying to clear cobwebs, and scrambled to my feet.  It had been a while since I’ve had my bell rung like that.  I didn’t have much time to recover, however, as the Thrall were on me.  I’d dropped my Hatchet when I’d taken the shot from the Knight, and didn’t have time to grab my shotgun.  Fists it would have to be.

I swung as hard as I could at the Thrall as they swarmed all over me, a writhing ball of teeth and claws.  Warnings sounded as my shields fell and I felt their claws trying to dig into my armor.  My fists connected with one and then another, beating them back and pushing them off of me, until the last one crumbled.  A loud shriek pierced the air again, but this time I was ready.  Tapping into the void energy, I thrust my arms outward, placing a Ward of Dawn around me just in time to watch the arc bolt slam harmlessly against its impenetrable shell.

The Light inside the shield invigorated me, giving me a moment to gain my bearings.  I picked up my Hatchet and gave it a quick once-over. Sloppy, letting that first shot rattle me that badly.  I was just lucky no one was around to see it happen, I would never hear the end of it.  No sooner had I thought it than a voice sounded in my coms.

“You could try not getting shot.  It would be better for the both of us.” Smart-aleck Ghost.

“Yeah, well, maybe after I throw you at him one of your points of conversation can be not killing me.”

The Knight stomped into view, lowering his arms and roaring out a challenge.  I decided to be friendly and wave.  That seemed to irritate him and he pulled up his Boomer, firing off another shot that splattered harmlessly again, though this time my Ward flickered a bit.

“Looks like it might be time to make a proper introduction.”

Charging out of my bubble, I peppered him with a quick burst of auto rifle fire before dropping my left hand and drawing on the Void again. Predictably, the Knight raised his arms to bring up his shield, but it wasn’t quick enough to stop the grenade I flung at him.  It connected to his chest and attached as the wall materialized in front of him, the grenade exploding twice in rapid succession.  He staggered, and another few rounds from my Hatchet brought him down. Time to move before anyone else came to see what was causing all the noise.

Something didn’t feel right about those last few shots, so I took a moment to have Elgan transmat my Hatchet back to the ship and bring me down my Inward Lamp.  Tuned for full auto, the scout rifle would get the job done with anymore rushing mobs of Thrall.  We hadn’t made it far down the corridor when my Ghost suddenly materialized in front of me.

“I’m detecting something,” he stated, a tint of excitement in his voice. Opening up to initiate a more active scan, he darted back and forth searching for the elusive trace of whatever he had noticed.  After several moments, he let out a whispered, “I don’t believe it,” then darted suddenly down a path leading away from the main hallway we were in.  I stood in shock for a moment, completely surprised, then sprinted after him.

He was flying too fast for me to catch on foot, so I leapt, using Lift to power myself down the hallway quickly.  I caromed off a wall as the hallway curved, spinning away from it and landing in a full sprint before rocketing forward again.  I finally gained enough ground to lunge forward and grab the Ghost, pulling him to me as we fell to the ground.  He instantly dematerialized, then reappeared above me and tried to take off again.

“Would you stop, you little idiot, you’re going to get us both killed,” I shouted, catching him again.  He pulled the dematerialization trick again, but this time, hovered above me, his optic sensor opened wide.

“We have to hurry,” he said, “it’s Ghosts.”

“What do you mean?”

“The phantom signal.  It’s Ghosts.  Dozens of them.  Their light is very faint, so very faint…”

“Then let’s go,” I replied, climbing to my feet.  Elgan disappeared into my armor, and a new target point appeared on my HUD.  Throwing caution to the wind, I ran down the hallway, trying to get to the Ghosts before we lost the signal again.  Red pinpoints began showing up as well, showing several Hive near our destination.  

I prepared a grenade and then burst into the room, glancing around quickly.  The room was circular, with two large columns on either side of the door.  On the opposite side of the room, there were at least four Wizards gathered around an unfamiliar construct, seemingly performing some sort of ritual.  I heaved my grenade in their direction just as one of the Wizards turned toward me.  I ducked behind the left column, the explosion drawing a scream of pain and anger from the Wizards.  A blast of darkness pummeled the pillar behind me and I leaned out to the left to fire off a few shots before darting to the right and taking cover behind the other column, taking a few more shots with my scout rifle.

The Wizard I’d caught with the grenade floated behind the other two, trying to use them as a shield.  A few well-placed shots dropped her solar shield, and another turned her to ash.  The three remaining enemies spread out then, seeking clear lanes of fire from multiple directions.  Switching to my shotgun, I charged the one to my right, sliding underneath her and firing upward, the solar rounds ripping through her shields and killing her quickly.  Two down, two to go. Unfortunately, that move left me exposed.

Something hit me from behind, and suddenly everything became hazy.  My movements became sluggish, and it felt as if something was draining me.  I pressed forward, seeking shelter, and cleared the poisonous cloud just as both Wizards unleashed more darkness, wiping my shields and staggering me.

Finally getting one of the columns between us, I let my shields recharge and decided to change tactics.  I switched to my WF47 machine gun, the “Zombie Apocalypse”.  Stepping back into the open, I let loose a torrent of solar skip rounds, the bullets tearing through the Wizards and bringing a quick end to the fight.  No sooner were they dead than my Ghost appeared, darting quickly to the Hive machine.  I set the heavy weapon down and followed.

“The signal was coming from here,” he said, zipping toward the back of the room.  “I’m not detecting any activity any longer, though there is a very unusual light signature coming from inside.”

The Wizards had been gathered around what looked like a large, concave table.  Hanging above it was a machine I had never seen before.  It was rectangular in shape, attached to the ceiling with wire, with four nasty looking needle-like points coming from each corner. Scattered in the depression of the table were weapons, armor pieces, and a pile of Ghosts.  None showed any sign of life.

“No, no, no,” Elgan whispered, moving to scan them, frantic for any sign of activity.  “They were alive; I know they were alive…”

Gently, I lifted one of the shells and looked it over.  On a hunch, I held it toward the dangling machine.  A strange glow lit a side panel, and light flickered in the Ghosts optic for a moment before shutting down again.  The starburst shape shuddered in my palm. I pulled my hand back, then repeated the gesture with the same response.

“I don’t think they were alive.  I think the Hive were trying to reanimate them somehow with this device.  Maybe to extract information.  Or try to taint the light in some way.”

“How could they do that?  The Ghosts came from the Traveler, there is no other Light…,” my Ghost trailed off for a moment before coming to a sudden realization.  “The strange light signature.  In the machine.  Claney, rip this thing apart, find it!”

“With pleasure,” I replied, setting the dead Ghost down before grabbing the device and yanking it from the ceiling.  I hammered it with my fists until a crack appeared, then put a hand to both sides and split it open.  The machine fizzled and sparked, and something hard and white fell out of it.

My Ghost swooped down to scan it and gasped.

“It’s a piece of the Traveler!”

“How is that possible?” I asked, kneeling down to look at the object.

“Checking,” he replied.  “Not too long ago, the Speaker had sent out an alert that it was suspected the Hive had a piece of the Traveler.  It was reported that a Guardian had assaulted a Hive coven and discovered that they had been syphoning the Light.  The Guardian stopped them, and the shard was restored, but it would seem that at least a small piece remained.  They could have small pieces like this all over the moon.  Maybe that is why the Traveler hasn’t recovered?”

“Maybe. We should definitely get this to the Speaker, and the Vanguard will want to look at the rest of this.  Let’s get it back to the shi…”

I was interrupted by the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the ground beside me.  Grabbing my rifle, I whirled toward the door to the room. At first, I could see nothing, then a Hunter de-cloaked and stepped forward, a sniper rifle resting against his shoulder.  He was glad in red and white with a glowing yellow-orange sash across his chest. The letters that blazed across his faceplate and the garish cloak he wore both marked him as an adherent of the Future War Cult.

“Easy, Titan.  If I just wanted to kill you, I could have.  I would prefer to end this amicably.  It would be a shame for all your hard work to end in easily avoided tragedy.”

“Hide,” I instructed my Ghost over a private comm channel, then addressed the Hunter.  “How thoughtful of you.  Call me crazy, though, I don’t tend to be on great terms with people who shoot at me unless we’re in the Crucible.  Even then, I tend to shoot back.”

The Hunter laughed and took a couple steps forward, hanging the sniper rifle on his back.  I shifted a little, tightening my grip on my weapon.  That stopped him.

“Fair enough.  Let me state things plainly.  I want what you have, and I am going to take it.  By force, if necessary.  I had been trying to track down the source of those phantom signals as well and saw you blundering your way through the Hive warrens.  Figured I would let you clear the path, and I do appreciate your effort, but I will be relieving you of your prize.”

“This belongs with the Vanguard.”

“And it will find its way there, after the War Cult has a look at it,” he stated, his tone of voice changing.  His posture shifted subtly as well, preparing to make his move.

“No. Elgan, prepare for transmat.”

“So be it,” the Hunter replied.

With that, he lunged forward, pulling out knives as arc energy coursed over his body.  I barely managed to dodge the first strike, which left a smoking gash in the table holding the artifacts.  I peppered him with shots from my Inward Lamp, vaulting myself up into the air with Lift, trying to keep out of his reach.  He leapt after me quicker than I had anticipated, striking me across the chest.  I landed hard, staggered, my shields depleted.  Regaining my footing, I readied a grenade and threw it at him, sticking him as he charged in again.  The resulting explosion threw us both backward.

For the second time today I slammed hard against a wall, my vision going dark again.  Maybe my brain would prefer to not be in my skull after all, if this was how I was going to treat it.  Staggering to my feet as quickly as I could, I saw my Ghost racing over to me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, giving me a quick scan.

“I’ll live.  What are you doing?  You were supposed to transmat that stuff out of here.”

“I…”

“Where’s the Hunter?” I demanded, cutting off whatever reply he was going to make.  I scrambled to my feet just in time to see a mocking salute from the Bladedancer as he and all the remains disappeared.

“No! Why didn’t you get that stuff out of here?”

“Well,” the Ghost replied, sounding more than a little snippy, “as I was going to say before you interrupted me, I sent up the fragment of the Traveler and most of the Ghosts.  I was having to recharge the transmat when I saw you take that hit.”

“Oh,” I responded sheepishly.  “In that case… Nice work.  Can you get us out of here?  We need to get that stuff to the Tower, and I am going to need to repair or replace this chest-plate.  Then we can see about tracking down a certain Hunter.”

“Of course it was ‘nice work’.  I did it.  And yes, I can.  Prepare for transmat.”

“I’m ready.  Let’s go home.”

Back aboard my Comitatus class ship, Invictus, I removed my helm and chest-plate.  Elgan plotted a course back to the Tower while I took stock of the damage.  I’d been lucky.  The arc blade had cut completely through the armor, another centimeter and it would have been in my chest.  Nothing but scrap now, I it aside and had a replacement piece sent to me from storage.  Elgan flitted over to me, giving the discarded armor a quick scan and then breaking it down into its component materials.

“What do you think the War Cult wants with the remains?”

“Hard to say,” he responded, turning to me, the points of his shell whirling around.  “They have been commissioning Guardians to check old files and bring back various items for a while now.  The different bits of alien hardware make sense.  The Ghosts that we found might have had some valuable information.  The different foundries have been producing items of such a higher quality than just about anything that would have been left from the Great Disaster that I can’t see what use they would have for the old armor and weapons.”

“And our friend?  Figure out who he was yet?”

“I am still working on that as well.  I’ve got it narrowed down to a few suspects.  Unfortunately, Faction gear makes visual identifiers a little more difficult.”

“Keep on it.  I’m going to close my eyes for a moment.  If I nod off, wake me when we get to the Tower.”

...

This is the first chapter to my longer fiction.  Don’t know if I’ll share more of it here.  I was originally written as a stand alone piece,but the next idea I had immediately followed up on it, so I just continued it instead.  This is one of my favorite bits of writing.  I wish I could say the rest of it was as strong as the start, but the quality varies a bit.  Link for the whole thing if you are so enclined: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11990180/1/A-Not-So-Simple-Patrol