#with no clear vision or even slight idea of what they want to crate

[chlo3sevigny]

this is literally the best ep i’ve heard this year

[midgardianweasley]

Keep you safe

Keep you safe

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Avenger!reader

Summary: When the civil war breaks out among the team, what happens when you find yourself and your girlfriend on opposite sides of the fight?

Warnings: Extremely minor cursing, angst, injury, ends in fluff

Word Count: 1.8k words

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist <3

Requests are open!

“Vision, you can’t keep her prisoner here” I announced to what seemed like a brick wall. The S.H.I.E.L.D. meeting was only this morning and already it felt like the team was beginning to drift. Tony and Steve were fighting, not being able to agree on where they stand regarding the Sokovia Accords and whether we should sign our rights away. Wanda, not being a US citizen and having been a big part of the incident in Sokovia, has been put under Vision’s watch for protection. But from what i’ve seen, I think Wanda can protect herself just fine.

“It’s not imprisonment, Y/N, this is for her safety.”

“Safety? She’s fully capable of walking to the shops on her own.”

“I think some members of the team would disagree, Nata-”

“Don’t, Vision. Please.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead, the stress going straight to my temples upon remembering the events from this morning with my girlfriend.

Nat and I had just walked out of the meeting room, thoughts flooding both of our heads. We were exhausted, the emergency meeting not giving us enough time to wake up with a coffee before having to be fully functional. My head was resting on her shoulder, her head on top of mine as we stood in an abandoned corridor, revelling in the peace and quiet. It was a few minutes before one of us decided to speak up.

“You okay, голубка?” She whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head before returning to her previous position.

“Mhmm, I think so. My head is officially fried though and it’s not even 9am yet.”

“We’ll get some coffee in us soon.”

“I think we’ve earned it” I mumbled, earning a slight chuckle from the both of us, returning back to the silence for only a couple of minutes before a thought crossed my mind.

“I feel bad for Wanda. She must feel terrible.”

“I know. Hopefully this whole Accords business can be of help.”

“Well, that would be nice, but we’re obviously not signing that.” An airy laugh left my lips, amused at the idea of signing away any freedom we could have for ourselves. I felt Nat’s body go rigid beside me, suddenly feeling tense. I pulled away slightly and looked up to see a frown taking over her features.

“You’re not going to sign?” She spoke, suddenly sounding more awake, albeit still having a gentle tone, but I could feel the disbelief behind her words.

“I wasn’t planning on it, no. Are you?”

“I feel like it would be a good idea. Maybe we need a little more guidance to go about our missions.”

“This isn't guidance, Nat. This is essentially locking us away just without the bars.”

“It’s protection.”

“It’s losing our freedom!” I bluntly responded, almost shocked that we weren’t on the same page about this. We both stood across from each other now, arms crossed and staring into each other's eyes, all tiredness beforehand gone and replaced with fire.

“I need some air” She groaned, walking away towards the exit, signalling the end of that conversation.

“Nat-”

“I’ll see you at home, okay?” Not giving me a chance to respond, having walked out the door before I could utter a word. I guess coffee is the least of my problems now.

Lost in my daydream, I hadn’t even noticed that Clint had walked in and was currently fighting Vision. Wait, Clint?

“Clint? I thought you retired?”

“Ah nice to have you back.” He choked, currently caught in a headlock with Vision. I stood next to Wanda, the two of us sharing a look of confusion. “We need to go, Cap needs us.”

“You can’t overpower me, Clint.” Vision spoke, still holding his grip.

“I know i can’t, but she can”

I looked beside me once again and saw Wanda beginning to use her powers, and before I knew it, Vision had fallen to the ground..and further until we could no longer see him.

“We need to go” The archer rushed, taking Wanda by the hand and leading her outside. I was yet to be clued in on what exactly was going on, but I knew one thing, this couldn’t be good.

---

It was absolute chaos everywhere. Steve, much like Tony, had recruited a small team of his own, some familiar faces, some new, the ant guy was pretty cool. However, there hadn’t been much time to admire the different skill sets and powers that had been brought to the table before both sides had run towards each other. Especially considering seeing the recognisable assassin on the other side had brought on a wave of sickness, fighting her was the last thing I wanted to do.

While Bucky had taken to fighting who I assumed to be Blank Panther and Sam was in the air, I’d stuck to helping Steve, not wanting to get involved in the fight Clint was having with Natasha. This teenager had started shooting webs at Captain, and while I know he was on the opposite side, I had to admit, he was pretty good at fighting.

“He also said to go for your legs” He chuckled, again shooting webs at the supersoldier and holding him back from retrieving his shield.

“Hey Spidey” I called, gaining his attention.

“Hi”

“Might wanna drop the Captain, yeah?”

“I can’t. I gotta impress Mr Stark”

“Look, this isn’t your fight, you don’t know what’s going on” I tried to reason, falling onto deaf ears, or just stubborn, as he then shot his webs at me and tried to pull. His eyes shrunk in confusion as he couldn’t flip me, my power of immobility coming in handy.

“Why-” He groaned, still trying to flip me. I lifted my hands, grabbed the webs and flung him into one of the loading crates that were scattered around, my super strength making the impact a lot harsher, but not enough to cause major injury.

“Thanks Y/N” Steve spoke, a quick nod of approval was shared before I caught a glance of another fight going on. Wanda’s holding a crate, trying to take someone flying above it out, completely oblivious to Vision starting to come towards her. Looking down slightly, I saw who was directly underneath.

“Shit” I mumbled, running as fast as I could towards them, avoiding gunfire and punches along the way.

“Language!”

“Sorry! Jeez” I directed towards the man now running in a different direction.

Vision was much closer to them than I was, no matter how quickly my feet took me. It was no use trying to warn Wanda, I wouldn’t get there in time. I had to go with plan B.

“Nat! Move!”

She quickly turned and caught sight of me, giving me a confused glare that didn’t last long before I pushed her away from where she was standing, out of harm's way.

“What the hell Y/-” She hadn’t managed to finish her sentence before her eyes widened in horror at the large crate suddenly falling from Wanda’s hold and onto me. My arms lifted quickly to hold it, slightly wobbling due to not being in the centre of it.

“Is there anything behind me?”

“Wha-”

“Is there anything behind me?!” I spoke more urgently, not knowing how much longer I could hold it.

“No, no you’re clear.” Natasha responded, I thanked her silently with a nod.

‘Okay. you’ve got this. One. Two-’ I thought to myself.

With the remaining strength I could have gathered, I bent down slightly and pushed, sending the metal hurling upwards while I ran forward. Overestimating how high i’d thrown it, the bitter reality hit me, quite literally as it fell onto my leg, sending me face first towards the ground.

“Wanda!” Was all I could hear before I felt my head placed in someone’s lap and the world went black.

---

My head pounding like a hammer had been a lovely wake up call, followed by a throbbing pain in my leg which I'd looked down to see was lying along a row of pillows. My eyes darted around the room and I recognised the photo on the bedside table beside me. It was a photo of Natasha and I standing in the rain laughing at a joke we can’t remember anymore, but it must’ve been funny according to the huge smiles on our faces. The love in our eyes was enough to make galaxies jealous.

A knock on the door had interrupted my train of thought, opening before I had a chance to respond, Natasha walked in, a guilty look taking over her face.

“Hi”

“Hey. You okay?” I questioned, earning a smile and a scoff to come out of The Black Widow’s mouth.

“Am I okay? Really?”

“I-”

“You ask me if i’m okay when you’re lying there with a broken leg and just woken up from being knocked out, because you decided to throw yourself into danger.”

“You had a tonnes worth of metal about to fall on you. Forgive me if i didn’t want a squished girlfriend.” I defended myself, not entirely certain on how this is turning into being my fault.

“You could have died”

“But I didn’t”

“But you could’ve, Y/N!”

“Love-”

“I can’t lose you” Her voice broke. Only then had I managed to really take a look at her. Her eyes had clouded over, her hair was all over the place, her nose running slightly. A pang of guilt hit me, not knowing that my action had affected her so much.

“Can you come here? Please?” She hesitated, but soon made her way round to the other side of the bed and sat herself down, making herself comfortable in my arms that I held open for her, hands immediately going to run through her hair. Small sniffles could be heard in the otherwise silent room, each one having a kiss pressed against her head in response.

After a couple of minutes, the silence was broken again.

“I’m sorry, moya lyubov, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

She turned her head up slightly to look at me, a small smile playing on her lips

“I know. i just panicked. I want you to be safe too.”

“I’m okay. I’m here. I promise.” I kissed her head again. “How does a bath and a movie sound?” A small sigh left her lips at the suggestion.

“You’ll join?”

“I’ll join”

A small but passionate kiss was exchanged, followed by a few quick pecks before the redhead walked off towards our bathroom, the sound of running water filling the air not long after.

No matter the mission, the fight, the argument or the disagreements, we’ll always protect one another. We don’t need the Sokovia Accords for that.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[g4rous]

Sunlit memories (Garou x Reader)

tags: slight mentions of blood, no warnings really

words: 1.5 k

notes: this one is slightly longer than the two before bc I had to put in a lot of stuff here lol but anyways aa here it is finally! Tried making it a bit lighthearted <3

series masterlist

previous chapter

Chapter three

After lazily opening your eyes, pain spread through your head. The blackness from your vision cleared away, leaving a fog in your mind and the painful sensation was the first thing you could register before you felt the cold brick wall you were leaning on.

What just happened? Trying to recall how you got in that position, your eyes trailed to the opposite wall, now realizing you didn’t even remember being in this alley in the first place.

“Yo, you’re awake.”

Looking over at a few large wooden crates, your focus now shifted to the silver-haired teen sitting on top of them. You didn’t even make out a response upon witnessing the injuries behind his torn, black shirt. The puzzle was coming together.

Last sight you remember before going unconscious were the heroes from that mini-market fighting the same person right in front of you now. For a moment you almost thought you were being delirious, yet those wounds only proved your suspicions. Was he the self-proclaimed “Hero Hunter” everyone has been wild about recently?

“So…” he looked at you with an awkward expression, “ you gonna go now or?”

Slightly flinching as you snapped back to reality, now you were left completely perplexed on what to do. On one hand the realization made you feel quite uneasy, but on the other you were safe for some reason, despite getting caught up in the ruckus from before.

“What happened to those guys earlier..?”

“Oh, their bodies are probably still lying face down right around the corner,” he grinned, “if no one found them already, that is.”

However after picking up your distraught expression that boastful tone faded in an instant.

“Hey, hey they’re not dead, jeez quit freaking out.”

You only frowned after giving him a small glare. Your head still ached, although not as strong from a few minutes ago. How long have you been out? Judging by the still-sunset sky it shouldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, much to your relief. The street was still deserted and silent as well.

“Well, thanks for saving my skin back there I guess…” you looked over at his injuries, staggering for a moment after standing up.

“However, you should definitely get those injuries checked out. I think I saw a hospital or something around here somewhere.”

A few seconds passed as he looked at you with a blank stare.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Dude you’re literally bleeding all over.”

“I said I’m fine!-“, he exclaimed only to flinch in pain. “-why are you so worried anyways? Just go home.”

“Talk about stubborn,” you thought to yourself.

Though, on second thought you do see a good reason why he shouldn’t. It’s almost as if you had forgotten that you witnessed him straight up thrash some A-classes. That and all the other questions that piled up still haven’t left your mind, but be as it may now wasn’t the time for overthinking. People must be pursuing him everywhere now, huh?

You leaned against the wall, still contemplating the situation. Water droplets from the roof were the only thing breaking the silence as you both stood there quiet. That is, until you got an idea.

“I don’t plan on talking you into it anymore…” you spoke with a tinge of nervousness, “but I do have some bandages at home. It’ll just be ten minutes until we get there, I give you them and you can leave. I don’t think sitting on those crates until you bleed out is really practical.”

The teen almost reflexively wanted to protest but not a single sentence came out. He really couldn’t think of anything that made your idea sound regrettable, and as much as he hated to admit it he wasn’t in the best shape. You on the other hand felt almost obligated to help him out. Putting aside that shocking realization from earlier, he did watch over you after you got KO’d.

After finally jumping off the crates, he shrugged and put both hands in his pockets.

“Eh, sure.”

You gave a relieved smile before taking a look at the still empty street you were both heading for. The sky turned into shades of amaranthine and bit by bit street lights began illuminating the path. The streets nearing your house weren’t as deserted as the one you woke up in, and occasionally you had to move to a more hidden route. Fortunately you’ve been greeted by your neighborhood cat soon after, indicating the destination- your safe home.

“I don’t think you told me your real name yet, if I may know? I’m y/n by the way.”

“It’s Garou,” he responded after looking around, almost hesitantly.

“So… Why were you doing that today?” you spoke as you reached out for your keys.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Dunno, you don’t see someone beating up heroes every day.”

Taking a quick glance around your surroundings, you opened the door at last.

“You sure like answering questions with a question, huh?” you gave a tired smile, “ah, I won’t force out any answers from you I guess.”

The lights in the hallway were already open, illuminating the other rooms, some half empty. After all you still had some work to do in the house. Making your way to your room, the bag of trash next to the wall caught your attention briefly. You couldn’t remember the reason you left off in such a hurry, not even throwing it away.

“Well, come in!” you shouted from the other room, “just don’t get any blood on the carpet please.”

But much to your amusement the on-the-outside intimidating man just stood there with a blank expression ever since you stepped into the apartment. You weren’t sure was it politeness or just plain awkwardness but it made you cackle internally.

Even so, after your call he cautiously stepped out to the living room, actually being careful not to dirty the carpet as you told. The room was pleasingly decorated, and even if he didn’t know you it simply radiated with your energy. It was oddly comfortable.

And as you finally stepped out of your room with that first-aid kit, a ring on your doorbell caught you both by surprise. You almost asked yourself whether that’s a hero in front of the door, before your memory got jogged again.

“Well shit.”

You gestured an already alert and intense Garou to step away from the door, to which he only raised an eyebrow.

“Ah…” you whispered, looking over to the side, “I kinda forgot I called a friend over.”

“You remembered just now!?”

“I was knocked out!” you complained, much to his discontent.

What were you supposed to do now? You thought to yourself as your eyes trailed from the door to the teen. The doorbell rang once again as to make the atmosphere grow even more unsteady.

“Guess we have to improvise…”

“You’re joking right?”

“If she saw a beat-up guy jumping out my window I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

He only rolled his eyes as you went to the door to finally greet your friend, adjusting your shirt along the way.

Frankly, you felt somewhat guilty for roping him in, all bloody and bruised to socialize with your rather concerned friend. Well, who wouldn’t get a little suspicious to see a strange man in their friend’s living room. To make things even more awkward he hadn’t said more than two sentences in the past hour, not that it’s surprising.

“So-,” your friend smiled, desperately trying not to glare at the man’s injuries, “- how did you two become friends?”

“Ah, it’s from that monster incident I told you about earlier,” you smiled back.

“So that’s why he’s so bruised,” she glanced over at him sympathetically, to which he only glared at you deadpan.

“Nothing special.” He spoke in a bluntly before yawning.

“Oh, how come?”

“He delivers stuff!” you exclaimed before any other thoughts came to mind, “sometimes he comes across them there too unfortunately. Poor guy.”

As if his deadpan look couldn’t get any drier.

It was crystal clear he hates being pitied, and you desperately tried not to let out a chuckle because of the ridiculous situation. Truthfully you weren’t even nervous anymore since you let out so many laughs. And your constant teasing only made him talkative since he just had to drop something even more embarrassing for payback, making the evening even more amusing. You didn’t even notice the clock struck midnight already from all the banter.

After saying farewell to your friend, you came back to your living room to see Garou already at the window.

“Looks like you really don’t wanna use the door today huh? Well, way better now than having to explain why some bloody dude jumped out my window earlier,” you grinned, to which he scoffed.

“Pfft, yeah, yeah. Don’t drag me into any more of these things though.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Well, it better not happen anymore,” he rolled his eyes before flashing a small grin.

“See ya.”

You only gave your small wave before finally closing the window. The apartment was now rather serene, contrasting all the playfulness from earlier. Yet still you couldn’t help but notice that smile caught you by surprise. Nothing like that cocky smirk in battle- this was genuine.

[mandospace]

Allure (Boba Fett x Reader)

Request:  Hi! I love your writing! 🖤 May I request something with jealous Boba? 🙏🏻✨

Requested By: @kat-r-in​

Word Count: 4,224

Warnings: Strong language, jealousy

A/N: Sorry if this kind of sucks :( But maybe you don’t think it sucks, so enjoy, anyways! **gif not mine, credit to the creator!**

MASTERLIST

“If we come in from the side, he won’t suspect a thing.”

“No, that’s too obvious- he’d spot us from a mile away.”

The constant bickering between the two Mandalorians was becoming old, and fast. They were surrounding a table that had maps scattered over it, gloved fingers pointing at different areas. A single puck sat between them, hologram shining the face of the quarry that the two hunters were after. The three of you had tracked the quarry to Canto Bight- one of the richer and more frivolous cities the three of you had ever been. You were positive that he was hiding somewhere in one of the many bars and casinos- the question was which one.

After some light scouting done by the two hunters, the pair determined that the quarry was hiding out in the largest casino that Canto Bight had to offer. Go figure.

The three of you- more accurately the two bounty hunters- were trying to come up with a plan to capture the quarry effectively and as quietly as possible. Drawing attention in a city this big was never good, and the two Mandalorians already stuck out like a sore thumb in their beskar armor. 

“Well we can’t just walk up to the guy,” Boba huffed, thick arms crossing over his chest in exasperation. The bickering was giving you a headache. You tried to tune them out as best as you could but their deep voices seemed to echo in the hull of Slave One. Rubbing your temples for some form of relief, Din spoke up.

“Why not?”

Boba gave Din an annoyed glance through his black visor. His irritation radiated from him in waves. “I don’t really have to explain why that is a stupid idea to you, do I?”

“No,” Din shook his head. “Not us. Her.” He swung his arm out in your general direction, casting the Mandalorians’ gaze on you. You squirmed in your seat at the attention.

“Me?” 

“No.” Boba spoke at the same time you did, voices overlapping. Embarrassment at being called out soon turned to frustration at Boba’s quick dismissal of you. You could feel your metaphorical hackles raise in defense.

“Why not?” Din cut in before you could argue for yourself. “She’s perfect. Put her in a pretty dress and she’d blend in with the wealthiest of the crowd. She could saunter right up to the quarry and seduce him like that.” Din punctuated his sentence with a snap of his fingers. You could feel the blush rising to your cheeks at his suggestion of you seducing someone- you couldn’t do that. “She tempts him out the back door where we will be waiting to get him. It’d be over in an hour.”

Din’s words hung in the air as Boba contemplated the plan before answering with a resounding ‘no.’ Anger flashed hot in your veins.

“I can do it,” you shot a glare at the green helmet before turning to Din’s silver one. “When do we start?”

“I said no.” Boba’s tone was dangerous- the threat very clear. Before Din could argue for you again, you hopped off your crate and stormed up to the older hunter. 

“You don’t get to decide what I do or don’t do,” you jabbed a finger into the green cuirass. Pain radiated through your finger, you forgot just how hard beskar was.

“It’s too dangerous,” Boba grabbed your wrist to push away your hand. Hurt flashed through your eyes at his motion. “You could get hurt.”

“Then one of us will protect her,” Din interjected, disrupting the tense glaring match you and Boba were having. “Follow her from a distance, watch out for any problems. And if she needs us, we’ll be there.”

“I’ll be fine, Boba,” you switched tactics, trying to appeal to his more gentler side. If he even had one. You reached your hand out and rested it on the green beskar covering his chest. This time he didn’t push you away. “Din will step in if anything-”

“I’m going to watch you.” Boba cut you off and settled his gaze on your face. You couldn’t be sure, but you were certain that he was looking you in the eye. “Din will wait out back to catch him. If anything goes wrong, I will step in and protect you, even if it means the quarry gets away. Understand?”

Din spoke his understanding, nodding along to the plan. You were frozen to the floor of the ship, trapped under Boba’s gaze. While his words were meant for Din, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine. He was willing to give up the bounty for you? He was willing to give up the job that would keep them comfortable for a month for you?

“I still don’t like this,” Boba grumbled, breaking your gaze to look at Din. He took a step back from the tense bubble the two of you created before turning to walk to the cockpit. “Get ready. We’re doing this tonight.”

Boba left the two of you in a flurry before the doors leading to the cockpit slammed shut. Din laid a tentative hand on your shoulder and you jumped in surprise. “Don’t worry, you’ll do great. Boba is just being dramatic.”

You were still frozen to your spot on the floor, staring at the sealed doors of the cockpit. “There’s just one problem.”

“What?”

“I don’t own a dress.”

———

After storming off, Boba passed the time in the cockpit, silently fuming by himself. The anger was like a raging sea in his chest, waves battering against his ribs. Logically, Boba knew that the plan was good and that it would work. The quarry would get one look at you and would fall at your feet in adoration, maybe even cuff himself if you asked in just the right way, just the right context. He knew that you could handle yourself and that you would be okay, and if not, he’d be there.

Realistically, though, the idea of some sleazy guy putting his hands on you made his stomach turn. Just the idea of another man touching you- no, even looking at you- made Boba see red. The anger and hatred for this quarry and his imagined slights against you rose up in his throat, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. His grip on one of the dashboard’s levers tightened before the lever snapped from the pressure. Boba looked at the metal object in his hand, disgusted.

“Great,” Boba grumbled to himself before tossing the broken lever to the corner. “Now I’ve got to fix that.”

Boba knew he shouldn’t feel this way about you. Feel this insanely possessive feeling that gripped his heart every time you walked into a room or smiled at him. You weren’t his, you didn’t belong to him, and you never would. Even if you had wanted him too, Boba reasoned with himself that he would turn you away for your own safety. You were too gentle, too kind, too pure to get wrapped up in his bloody life. He wouldn’t make you go through that, even if he desperately wanted you by his side every step of the way.

The watch on his vambrace beeped, signaling that it was time to leave. Boba stood up with a sigh, strapping his blaster to his hip. The sooner he left for this mission, the sooner he could get back to sulking by himself. He met Din in the hull of the ship who was waiting, ready for the mission. Din leaned against the wall, fingers messing with the whistling birds on his vambrace. Boba had always wanted some of those.

“Is she ready?” Boba asked while settling in next to Din. He crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh.

“Almost,” Din responded. “She had to run out earlier, so she is a little behind.”

“Run out?” The words left Boba’s mouth in confusion. What did he mean, you ‘ran out?’

Before Din could answer, the soft sound of clicks against the floor made the two Mandalorians look up in interest. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Boba’s heart almost burst through the hard beskar strapped to his chest at the sight of you.

You were absolutely breathtaking. Boba was glad for the helmet that hid his face, or else you and Din would’ve seen his gaping mouth. He couldn’t take his eyes off you- each glance sent a trickle of heat running south, pooling low in his stomach. The silvery-white fabric draped over your curves deliciously. A slit ran up the side of the skirt, showing your leg with each step. Boba couldn’t help but stare at the skin revealed before his eyes. You were ethereal, reminding him of the angels that lived on the moons of Iego.

“Wow...” Din let out a shaky breath. Boba’s gaze immediately snapped to Din who was currently drinking in your form. Anger and jealousy flared inside of Boba. “You look...”

“Beautiful,” Boba finished Din’s sentence, drawing your gaze to him. He hadn’t meant for the words to slip out, but they did, and his face was red under the helmet. The way you looked at him, a nervous smile gracing your features as you tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear made Boba want to reach out and touch you. Before he could do something he’d regret, Boba turned around and opened the ship’s ramp. “Let’s go.”

The walk to the casino was long, the three of you trying to make your way through Canto Bight’s bustling crowds. Din walked beside you, making light conversation while Boba trailed behind to watch out for any trouble. His mind wasn’t focused on scanning the crowd for dangerous people though, instead it was focused on the dip of your back where Din’s hand rested. Boba knew that it probably wasn’t anything other than friendly- the logical part of him told him this- but that still didn’t stop the animalistic urge growing inside him to snatch you away from Din’s grip with a snarl. Your dress draped low on your back, revealing even more skin that Boba longed to touch. You looked so soft, he was sure your skin would feel like the silk you were wearing. Din’s thumb continued tracing lazy circles into the exposed skin on the small of your back. With each brush, Boba’s vision tinted redder with ire.

“We’re here,” Din’s voice snapped Boba out of his thoughts, red haze fading when you turned and looked at him. Just one look from you and he could practically feel the anger melting off of him. “I’ll be waiting out back for the quarry. If you need me,” Din tapped the side of his helmet twice, a silent way of saying ‘call me,’ before he turned with a swirl of his cape. He vanished into the crowd, and Boba was left alone with you.

“Here,” he grabbed your wrist, bringing it closer to him and having your palm face up. He placed a small piece of technology in your open hand. “This is your communicator. Put it in your ear. It lets me hear what’s going on around you, and lets you talk to me if you need me for any reason.”

You looked at the small piece in your hand before putting it in your ear. It was slightly irritating, the little communicator. Boba pressed a button on his vambrace and a small little beep sounded in your ear.

“There,” Boba’s voice was much deeper through the earpiece. Even though he was only a few feet in front of you, it felt like he was right beside your head, whispering in your ear. “Now I can hear everything.”

“Everything?” Your mind drifted to what was about to happen. You knew you had to seduce the quarry, and that was already embarrassing as is, but now Boba gets to hear it too? “Even...”

“Yes,” Boba nodded. He already didn’t like the plan. Any plan that put you in harm’s way was a bad plan to him, but he still knew this would work. Didn’t mean that he had to like it. 

“What if I...” you trailed off, heat flooding your cheeks in embarrassment. Maker, you were so bad at this. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Boba prompted, stepping closer to you so he could avoid the moving crowd.

“No, it’s too embarrassing.”

“Sweet girl,” Boba sighed at the look of nervousness on your face. You had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, and he desperately wanted to free it with a brush of his thumb. “If you don’t want to do this, we’ll just turn around and head back. Din and I-”

“No,” you cut him off. You could do this, no matter how inexperienced you were in the art of seduction. “I can do this. I may just... need help.”

“I’ll be watching you and will jump in if anything goes wrong-”

“No, not that,” you dismissed him with a wave of your hand. Kriff, why was this so awkward to tell him? “I’ve just... never seduced anyone before. What if he doesn’t even follow me out back, and this whole mission is a bust?”

For the second time that night, Boba was thankful that his helmet blocked his features from you. He was dumbstruck at your words- you had never seduced anyone before? Stars, Boba thought, you seduce him with just a smile. 

“Boba,” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized that he was silent. He was too busy fantasizing about you actually trying to seduce him- you were already incredibly sexy to him every day. You weren’t even trying to make him feel all hot and bothered every time you looked at him. You were just that effortlessly alluring.

“If you really need me,” Boba tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. Kriff, if he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn you were trying to seduce him right now with that innocent look in your eyes, just begging for him to- “I’ll give you some pointers,” he cleared his throat. “But I don’t think you’ll need my help.”

You exhaled shakily. “Thank you, Boba,” you rested your hand on his green cuirass, right over his heart. Maker, you were going to make him come in his pants if you kept looking at him like that. You had barely touched him, barely said anything to him and he was already wanting to push you up against a wall and have his way with you. He could imagine it vividly with how close you were to him right now, your sweet scent filling his head. It would be so easy, Boba thought, to just grab your hips and pin you to the wall. To hitch your leg up and around his waist- leg bare from the slit in the silvery fabric of your dress- as he pressed his hard length against you and buried his face in your neck. So easy- “I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

“Of course,” he shifted awkwardly on his feet, trying to adjust himself discreetly. “Anything for you, sweet girl.” The tracking fob clipped to his belt started beeping, noting the hunter that the quarry was close. He silenced it with a push of a button. Boba turned back to you. “It’s time.”

You sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. Boba desperately tried not to stare at your chest when you did that. “Wish me luck.” You turned with a swirl of your dress, silvery fabric billowing out behind you as you made your way into the casino. Boba just stood there, transfixed on your fleeting image. He hated to see you walk away, but he loved to watch you leave.

___

The casino was bright and loud- people surrounding various tables and shouting with glee over winning or yelling in fury at losing their entire fortune. Machines flashed blinking lights, tempting the patrons to waste their money at a chance to win. You tried to push the noise to the back of your head whilst your eyes scanned the crowd for the quarry. There were so many people, you weren’t sure if you were ever going to find the quarry until your eyes found him at the bar. He was leaning against the counter, talking to some pretty Twi’lek who did not seem that interested. You drew in a shaky breath before making your way to the bar. 

“Spotchka, please.” You settled in against the counter right next to the quarry, raising your hand to catch the bartender’s attention. You could feel the quarry’s eyes on you when you gave the bartender a dazzling smile. His gaze sent shivers down your spine- but not the good kind. It wasn’t the delicious shivers that raked over your body whenever Boba looked at you or brushed his hand against your skin. This gaze made you feel uncomfortable.

 “Any luck tonight?” The quarry sidled up next to you, forgetting the pretty Twi’lek. You forced yourself to give him a smile and turn towards him like you were even remotely interested.

“Unfortunately, no, not yet,” you brought the blue drink up to your lips and took a slow sip. Your eyes drifted over his form, acting like you were actually checking him out. “But I have a feeling my luck is about to change.”

The man smiled at you and his eyes settled on your cleavage. Fighting back the disgusted feeling you felt, you pushed out your breasts ever so subtly, trying to entice him even more.

“I think you’re right, gorgeous.”

___

Boba hated this. He hated sitting in some corner of the casino, watching you flirt with this scum. His hand was constantly clenched in a fist, other twitching to feel the smooth metal of his blaster. Boba desperately wanted to shoot the quarry down where he stood as he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear. You laughed at something he must’ve said, head tilting back with laughter displaying your neck and more of your chest. Even from this far away, Boba could see that the quarry brazenly looked at your breasts and licked his lips in hunger. What was even worse was watching this man touch you and hear your words that were egging the quarry on.

“So,” you had trailed your hand down the man’s chest. Boba couldn’t help the hate and jealousy for the quarry that rose up in his throat like acid as he watched you. Boba wished it was him that you were trailing your hands over, wished it was him that you were looking at beneath your eyelashes. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

“Not at all.” The quarry dragged his hand lazily up and down your arm, seemingly trying to entice you. You had flushed at the man’s touches. Boba hoped that it was just a fluke- that you weren’t actually attracted to and turned on by this garbage. He could feel his finger twitch towards his blaster again. “What about you, gorgeous?”

Boba watched you pull your bottom lip between your teeth like you did earlier that night as you looked the man up and down. He almost launched himself from his seat when the quarry brushed his thumb over your lip, releasing the pillowy flesh. Boba should be the one doing that, not him. 

“Well,” you looked shyly up at the man, hand trailing down his chest. “I was hoping you could do something for me.”

“Yeah? What’s that, angel?” The quarry had wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. Boba’s chest was heaving as he tried to calm himself down. You didn’t actually want the quarry, Boba had to remind himself. You were only doing this to help him and Din.

You had leaned in closer to him, mouth moving to whisper something in the quarry’s ear. Boba was able to hear what you said because of the earpiece. 

“Me,” you whispered seductively before pulling back slightly to crash your lips against the quarry’s. 

Red was all Boba saw. A growl ripped through his chest at the sight of you kissing that trash, that garbage, that scum. He launched from his seat and was making his way towards you so he could tear you from the man’s greedy grip.

“Boba, don’t.” Din’s voice cut through his earpiece. “Let her lead him outside first.” Boba stopped in his tracks at Din’s words. “You’re going to tip off the quarry if you mow down half the casino to get to him.”

Boba didn’t realize that the crowd had jumped away from his warpath. Whispers of “Mandalorian” and “bounty hunter” floated through the crowd while Boba stood there, fuming. He tried to take deep breaths to tamper down the fury that threatened to boil over at the image of you wrapped in the quarry’s arms. Only when the quarry took his lips off yours was Boba able to stop shaking from his anger.

“Let’s get out of here,” the quarry started to tug you towards the exit.

“He’s headed your way,” Boba gritted out through the comm. He trailed behind the two of you, watching you follow the quarry out the door. Within moments Boba was out through the exit, and fury swirled in his chest at what he saw.

The quarry had pinned you to the wall of the casino and had his hands and lips on you. Boba couldn’t wait for Din to swoop down from the shadows and get the quarry. He was going to put a stop to this, now.

Boba grabbed the back of the man’s shirt and ripped him off you. Anger flashed behind his visor as he slammed the quarry’s back against the wall. The man’s eyes widened in fear when Boba drew his fist back, poised to slam it into his face. Before he could break the man’s jaw, Din had finally revealed himself and put himself between the quarry and Boba.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again,” Boba seethed. He couldn’t even get any satisfaction of watching Din cuff the bastard. He had never wanted to kill someone so badly- not since he watched a jedi cut down his father.

“Boba.” Your soft voice had pulled him from his red-tinged thoughts. He looked down at you as you placed your hand on his arm. Boba almost melted into your soothing touch. “I’m okay, he didn’t hurt me.”

“I know, but-” Boba’s head turned to look at the scum again but your hand on his helmet directed his gaze back to you. He could feel his cheek heat up under your touch even though you weren’t directly touching his skin. The look you gave him made Boba weak in the knees- he could hardly feel the anger he was just raging with only minutes ago. 

“Everything I said, everything I did, was all a lie.” You had your hands on either side of his helmet, cupping his face. “I need you to know that.”

Boba could only nod at your words. He knew that they were true, but jealousy still lingered beneath his skin at the memory of your lips pressed against the quarry’s. “Guess you didn’t need my help after all, sweet girl.”

“Trust me, I most certainly did.” You unknowingly held his gaze under the black visor. “If I didn’t pretend that it was you that I was talking to, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

Your words made Boba pull up short. “What?”

The heat that flushed over your cheeks was beautiful. “I, umm, pretended that I was, ah, trying to seduce you.” You stumbled over your words, but Boba’s heart swelled with them. Before he could stop himself, Boba was tearing off his helmet from his head and pushing you back against the wall, large hands on your hips.

“Sweet girl,” Boba sighed as he brushed his nose against yours. Not wanting to waste another minute, he crashed his lips against yours. Your lips were so soft beneath his own, even better than he dreamed. A soft sigh slipped from between your lips and Boba almost let out a moan at the taste of your breath on his tongue. You even tasted sweet, Boba thought. He wondered where else you would taste sweet.

“Boba,” you moaned against his mouth. He just continued to kiss you, pulling you tight against his chest. Before he could make the kiss any deeper, you pulled away from him, much to his dismay. “We can’t do this.”

That certainly made him stop dead in his tracks, cold fear pulsing through his veins. He had thought that you wanted this, wanted him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” you cut him off, hand cupping his cheek. “You misunderstood me. We can’t do this, not here.”

Just as your words had stopped his heart, they revived it just as easily. He couldn’t help but press a bruising kiss against your lips. “Thank the Maker.” His grip on you tightened. “You’re mine, sweet girl. Don’t you forget it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you smiled up at him before you pulled him back down to your lips. “Not in a million years.”

[miss-spooky-eyes]

Teething Problems (belated OC Kiss Week fic)

I know, believe me I know, that I couldn’t be later with this one ... but if you know me at all, you also know that I physically couldn’t write something for OC Kiss Week fic and not write about the murder wives, aka my BH Indirae (Indy) and November’s BH Orcodaa (Coda).

So I started thinking about kissing and this is what happened. I think it’s the shortest and silliest fic I’ve ever written, which is saying something on the latter front.

When a Togruta and a Cathar fell into bed together, there were always going to be problems.

Hope you like it @vespertine-legacy, and thank you for continuing to be so generous with Coda <3

Author Notes: Vaguely set when the murder wives are mere murder girlfriends/accomplices/partners-in-crime-with-benefits/it’s complicated. Cathar/Togruta biology headcanons vaguely taken from fanon. Coda belongs to @vespertine-legacy​ as aforementioned. 

Interspecies romance, or something within ninety degrees of romance, had been a part of Coda’s life since she was sixteen and realised how good humans smelled when they were nervous (a nervousness not unconnected to the fact she was sixteen, she realised in retrospect). And while her private fantasies about her partner-in-literal-crime had been free of fumbling and awkwardness, she’d been around enough to know that two women from such different species were not going to come together in instant, seamless harmony. Especially when Indy hadn’t been … around.

So she had expected there to be difficulties and surprises and oddities that had to be overcome with the aid of an open mind and a sense of humour, a prospect that seemed all the more daunting when you considered that they had one of each between them and both were Coda’s. But the biggest surprise was how swiftly things fell into place once Coda got Indy into bed (or rather, got herself into Indy’s bed, which was bigger, softer and didn’t have Mako sleeping three feet away). Coda found that she loved the sleek glide of Indy’s fur under her hand and the slight drag against her palm when she brushed it the wrong way, the contrast of hard muscle clothed in smooth silk and the hint of claws sheathed in soft velvet. When Indy’s smell changed with arousal, Coda breathed it in hungrily, and she delighted in eliciting all those involuntary sounds Indy got so embarrassed about. And even if all of that had been awful, it would still have been a more than acceptable trade for the texture of Indy’s tongue.

(Not to mention the body heat that Indy, with her faster metabolism, generated. Coda’s vague, shamefaced plans of sneaking back to her own bunk before the crew woke up hadn’t even lasted one night, her resistance to all the implications of awakening in Indy’s bed melting and evaporating amidst the sheer warmth of the body curled around hers.)

And Indy, for her part, didn’t seem the slightest bit repulsed by or hesitant about some of the aspects of Coda’s anatomy which had thrown previous lovers for an understandable loop. Quite the contrary.

No, what had been most surprising about finally becoming lovers was how natural it all seemed, at least while the actual lovering was going on.

Which is not to say that there weren’t teething problems.

Literally.

Because Togruta and Cathar had both evolved as apex predators, and that meant two mouths full of fangs. And while many millennia separated the two bounty hunters from the ancestors who had hunted to survive in a much more immediate way, Shili and Cathar had still left their marks on Coda and Indy. Which meant that they left marks on each other.

The peculiar reaction of Cathar to Togruta venom aside, a little enthusiastic nibbling was not an issue for either woman as long as Coda’s glands remained unexpressed. But when it came to kissing, two sets of fangs meant a certain amount of delicate manoeuvring was called for, a modicum of care and attention required.

Care and attention which Coda was not always, in the heat of the moment, capable of applying. Especially not once they discovered that one position that felt so good for both of them. Because Coda could be as careful as she liked, but when Indy braced herself with her palms flat on the wall and sank down on Coda and squeezed in just that particular way, Coda’s vision reliably went white around the edges and her instincts took over.  

Which, if Indy happened to be kissing her at that moment, could have painful results.

There were probably worse ways to be abruptly yanked back from the brink of an orgasm, but discovering you’d just involuntarily pierced your lover’s lip or tongue with your teeth was rapidly becoming Coda’s least favourite.

And late-night trips to the medbay in which she had to call upon her long-ago medic training were not her idea of basking in the afterglow.

Things got worse when their spare handheld dermal regenerator was cannibalised for parts by Blizz and their spare spare got lost on Voss, meaning that any crew member who had absentmindedly taken the regen unit back to their room to treat an abrasion was risking being woken up in the middle of the night by a frustrated, half-dressed Coda.

‘I think,’ Torian said diffidently one morning after watching Indy wince her way through a bowl of porridge, ‘the problem might be ... teeth.’

‘Because of you both being predatory species,’ Mako added. They were all in the cargo bay, which Indy had decided needed to be reorganised, since there was still stuff in there from the Mantis’ previous owners.

‘Really?’ Coda said sarcastically as she dragged a heavy crate away from the wall.

‘Maybe you could wear mouthguards,’ Mako suggested brightly. ‘Or file down your fangs?’ She blinked as both Indy and Coda turned to stare at her. ‘Maybe not.’

‘Why do you even have to kiss anyway?’ Gault demanded from where he was leaning against the wall next to the door. ‘That’s such a -’ he waved a hand dismissively - ‘human thing. On Devaron, mouths are for lying.’

‘Devaronians don’t kiss?’ Mako demanded incredulously.

‘Not other Devaronians, no. But sometimes I make allowances for the primitive habits of humans.’

‘Humans aren’t the only species who kiss,’ Torian objected, helping Mako lift another crate.

‘No, but they’re the worst offenders.’

‘Wait,’ Mako said, frowning. ‘Why do humans kiss? I never really thought about it.’

Indy forestalled the slicer as she reached for her datapad. ‘Cargo inventory first, HoloNet research hole later.’

‘I think it’s a reconciliation gesture,’ Torian suggested. ‘Like declaring peace after aggression.’

‘That’s such a Mandalorian perspective,’ Mako objected, rolling her eyes.

‘Humans kiss because they have such weak senses of smell that they can’t detect each other’s pheromones unless they’re squashed up against each other,’ Gault said scornfully. ‘Disgusting business, really.’

‘Oh, like you never kissed that hot Mirialan woman whose holo you keep under your pillow,’ Mako retorted.

‘The point is that you two don’t have that excuse,’ Gault said, pretending not to hear Mako and gesturing to Indy and Coda. ‘Which means you don’t have any excuse for waking me up in the middle of the night looking for the regen unit because you accidentally pierced your girlfriend’s tongue again, Coda.’

‘Gault,’ Indy said ominously.

The Devaronian held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Sorry, champ, but it’s getting ridiculous. Torian agrees with me.’

‘Torian?’ Coda demanded, turning to him.

‘I -’ Torian floundered, his fair skin reddening under her scrutiny. ‘I don’t want to get involved.’

‘Smart decision,’ Indy said quietly.

‘No, let’s hear from everybody,’ Coda said, waving her hands. ‘What do Mandalorians do, anyway? Bump helmets? Blizz, we haven’t heard from you yet, don’t you want to tell us about Jawa kissing?’

There was a sudden silence. Blizz put down the tool he had been fussing with and drew himself up to his full height. ‘Coda-boss should not ask Blizz such things,’ he said stiffly. ‘Is for Jawa to know.’

Coda didn’t need the look Indy directed at her to step forward and drop to one knee in front of Blizz, bringing her eye level much closer to his. ‘I’m sorry, Blizz,’ she said gravely. ‘It was rude of me to ask you that. Please forgive me.’

Blizz patted her shoulder graciously. ‘It OK, Coda-boss. Blizz knows Coda-boss mean well. It not Coda-boss’s fault that no one taught Coda-boss to behave civilised.’

‘Thank you,’ Coda said meekly.

Indy cleared her throat. ‘Back to work.’

*

‘What do Jawas do?’ Coda asked Indy much later as she lounged on Indy’s bed, watching Indy get undressed.

‘I don’t know, and I don’t think we should ask Blizz any more.’

‘I’m just wondering.’ Coda shuffled to one side as Indy sat down next to her. ‘Do Cathar kiss, though? I mean, I know you kiss me, but on Ord Mantell, in your town, were kids sneaking away into dark corners to kiss, or what?’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘If you had been, though?’ Coda pressed.

Indy considered the question in her slow, thoughtful way. ‘We do kiss. But it’s not the main thing.’

‘What’s the main thing?’

‘Well, we do this.’ Indy dropped her head to Coda’s shoulder and stroked her cheek and the side of her jaw against Coda’s skin, then did it again, her warm furry face pressing against Coda hard enough that Coda had to brace just a little bit to keep her position.

Coda smiled, enjoying the feel of Indy’s fur against her bare skin. ‘What else do you do?’

Indy pulled back and considered. ‘A bit of this?’ She leaned in again and bit Coda, very, very gently, on the cheek, then trailed down, alternating nuzzles from her soft nose with the most delicate, deliberately restrained bites along her jaw. ‘And I might groom the fur on your ears, if you had it.’

‘Feel free to try anyway,’ Coda said a little breathlessly, shivering at Indy’s breath against her skin.

Indy made a little noise deep in her throat that Coda knew was the sound of temptation, but pulled away. ‘Why, what do Togruta do together?’

‘This, mainly.’ Coda took Indy’s hand and lifted it to her lek, guiding the Cathar’s fingers down the inner surface. ‘And you already know I like this.’

‘I do,’ Indy said, a faint growl rumbling from her chest as she watched Coda close her eyes briefly and shudder.

‘And I’d smell the back of your neck.’ Indy obediently bent her head, and Coda buried her nose in the nape of Indy’s neck. There wasn’t a scent gland there for Cathar like there was for Togruta, but it didn’t matter, because being this close to Indy’s skin, breathing in her fur, her smell … Coda reluctantly pulled away before it became overwhelming, touching the nape of Indy’s neck with one finger instead. ‘That’s where I’d bite you, if. You know. We were. Looking to mate like that.’

‘It always comes back to teeth with you,’ Indy said, but she was smiling.

‘With us,’ Coda corrected, and they kissed, just brushing their lips together, although even then Coda felt the light pressure of Indy’s incisors.

‘So if kissing isn’t a big thing for Cathar, and it’s not a big thing for Togruta,’ Coda said, stroking Indy’s soft cheek with one finger as the Cathar settled herself between Coda’s legs so they were face to face, ‘why do I always find myself kissing you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Indy shifted her weight to drape her legs over Coda’s thighs.

‘Maybe, with people from different species, kissing’s like Basic. The universal language,’ Coda mused. ‘You know, it’s like barter credits. Acceptable everywhere.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe you just like my tongue.’

‘I do like your tongue.’ Coda traced Indy’s lips with her thumb. ‘I’d like it intact.’

‘It’ll survive.’

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Coda persisted.

Indy considered her for a moment, her expression unreadable. ‘Don’t I hurt you when I scratch your back?’ She lightly touched Coda’s upper arm, where rings of fingertip-sized bruises were fading. ‘Or grip you too hard?’

‘I like it when you do that.’

‘Exactly.’ Indy leaned in to rest her forehead against Coda’s. ‘And I don’t mind bleeding a little.’

Coda smiled, sliding her hands down Indy’s back to her hips and pulling them against her own. ‘So we can keep kissing?’

‘As long as you keep your venom to yourself.’

Coda’s lips traced the two small puncture-shaped scars on Indy’s shoulder, relic of the bite that had started it all. ‘As long as you warn me before you do that … squeezing thing.’

Indy leaned in for a kiss, nipped lightly at Coda’s lower lip, surprising a laugh from her. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

[molluskwritesfic]

Where the Roses Grow: Chapter One

The compound on Arvala-7 didn’t house one bounty, but two. Elsi Nokk is an enslaved nanny with more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She’ll do anything to protect her charge, even if it means standing against - and then with - a certain Mandalorian. Rated M.

This story can be found on Ao3 and fanfiction.net.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mild violence, electrocution, reference to sexual assault, mild language, slavery and associated themes.

This Chapter - Next Chapter

Chapter One

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.” 

The thin metallic voice echoed faintly through the stone halls, but after a lifetime of eavesdropping she heard it loud and clear. Without missing a beat, she scooped up the tiny green creature that had been playing by her feet. To the baby, with his massive bat-like ears, the not-so-distant blaster fire must’ve been frighteningly loud. His dark eyes blinked up at her worriedly, ears held flat to his shoulders. 

She pressed a kiss to his wrinkled forehead. With the child cradled protectively to her chest, she hurried across the room, neatly side-stepping piles of supplies and junk. The baby’s bassinet sat among the wall, small and unassuming among the scattered bits of droid and speeder parts the Nikto mercenaries had scavenged from raiding bounty hunters. 

With practiced ease, she balanced the baby in one arm while opening the bassinet with the other. The quick press of a few buttons revealed the baby’s sleeping space. Small and dark, but made homey by several small blankets and a patchwork cloth frog, all lovingly made in the bright colors. Her fingers ached with the memory of each tiny stitch.  She deposited the baby in its bassinet, tucking in the blanket corners gently. 

He curled his little claws into the top blanket - the red one. His favorite. She smiled down at him sadly, wishing there was something she could do to stop the never-ending noise and violence; to stop him from being afraid. He was unlike any other child that had fallen into her care over the years. If he were, perhaps she could offer more comfort. But he always seemed shockingly aware of the galaxy around him.

He knew there were people dying outside. He knew they were coming for him.

She pressed a finger over her lips. It was something they’d practiced extensively. He copied the gesture, pressing one of his three fingers over his mouth with a self-pleased grin. 

She could distract him, at least. 

Despite the severity of the situation, she couldn’t help but return the smile. She leaned down to press a last quick kiss to the baby’s brow before pulling away and closing the bassinet’s shutters. 

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.”

A few armed Niktos swarmed through the narrow space, causing her to flatten herself against the wall to let them pass. She was of little interest or value to them. An extra piece of furniture that they had to feed. They sidestepped her with the same regard they gave to the half-forgotten piles of junk they housed her and her charge among. Her safety was the absolute last thing on their minds. 

She was far too used to it to be offended. The heavy metal collar around her neck caused others to set her apart and then aside. It had once bit into her skin and drawn blood, but over the years the skin underneath had scarred and calloused. 

Now it only itched.

Knowing that it was up to her to keep herself alive, she tossed a ragged tarp over the bassinet and piled a couple of other odds and ends on top in hopes that if anyone did make it through, they wouldn’t realize it contained what they sought. At least not immediately. Just long enough for her to get a bearing on the newcomers’ intentions. Specifically, whether or not they intended to harm the baby. 

She had no love for the Nikto gang. They were just the most recent in the rather long line of hands the child had fallen into over the past two years - and those were just the ones she knew about. But as brutish as the group of mercenaries could be, they generally left her and the child to their own devices - so long as they weren’t in the way. 

She’d had far worse masters.

But, should the newcomers be successful, She didn’t want to be seen as one of the mercenaries. That was a very easy way to get a bolt through the head. Nor did she want to show any support for the attackers. Should they lose, the Nikto would be sure to express their displeasure. 

She slipped behind a few crates to wait, well out of sight but with a clear view of where the baby hid. Passive defense had served her well in the past, and she saw no reason to alter tactics now.

The battle outside was louder than ever, the usual blaster fire underscoring heavy artillery that made the air vibrate. She waited with bated breath, listening intently despite wanting to clamp her hands over her ears to defend against the volume.

Silence fell. 

She waited. 

There was movement outside. Footsteps. Two, at a guess, but there was no way to tell which side they were on. She stayed hidden.

She was startled by the sound of someone running. Someone close, too close. Before she had a chance to work out who they were and why they’d been able to get so close without her noticing, they were crashing into the barrels she had hidden herself behind and locking a hand around her throat just above the collar.

She wheezed as the grip tightened. They slung her around violently so that she faced them. It was Grod, the leader of the mercenary band. There was nothing particularly special about him - besides him being a little bigger than the rest... and the fact that he currently had the control fob to her collar. 

Grod hissed something at her in Nikto, squeezing her throat tighter for emphasis.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, eyes wide and pleading. “I don’t know Nikto.”

It was a lie, of course. But the tide had turned against Grod and she had no intention of assisting him in whatever he had planned - which probably included running. A bad idea in the middle of the desert. Especially while being hunted.

Grod snarled, perhaps having caught the lie. He fished in the rugged leather of his jacket and revealed the fob. It was small - just the right size to fit in the palm of the hand - metallic and black. A dial sat in the center of the object, along with a few buttons. 

She was painfully aware of its function. Cold fear washed over her, but she didn’t back down. 

Grod turned the dial and pressed the button. The collar around her neck seared into her skin. Her vision went white. She crumpled to the ground, mouth open in a silent cry as her limbs jerked and twitched with electricity. 

She wasn’t entirely aware of what happened next, but through the pain she saw Grod turn with his blaster only to fall at her side an instant later. 

Someone loomed over her, no more than a pale shadow in her pain-washed vision. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, unable to get enough air to cry out. Her teeth gnashed and rattled in their sockets. She heard voices, but couldn’t make out the words through the ringing in her ears.

The electricity stopped, but the pain didn’t. She gasped like a fish, trying to force her lungs to draw in enough air to breathe through the pain. Her muscles twitched by their own volition, trying to work out which electrical signals they were supposed to obey now that the horrible surge had come and gone. 

Darkness ate at the corners of her vision. She sank away into dizzying blackness.

. ~0~0~0~

“Nan!” Hetta’s shrill voice sliced through the air, shattering what had been an otherwise peaceful evening.

Elsi Nokk heaved a great sigh, trying to convince herself to be content with listening to her charge’s whiny shouts, so long as it bought her a few more minutes of solitude. She bent over her needlework with redoubled effort, so that when the child finally found her, it would seem that she’d been too preoccupied to notice.

“Nan Elsi!”

Nan, of course, was short for Nanny, as a slave could never hope to be awarded the title of Governess. It was a comparatively small insult, and one she was all too used to. 

She didn’t like being called Nan. It made her feel old, which she wasn’t. Her wavy blond hair had yet to start greying, even if it did look a little mousy tucked away in the low braided bun she always wore. The weathered places lining the corners of her soft grey eyes placed her in her late thirties, though her true age was anyone’s guess. A stressful life had the tendency to age a creature beyond their years, and she was no exception.

Elsi had no guilt at leaving Hetta to search for her. At twelve years of age, the child was spoiled, bratty, and had the wit of a bantha. Each day, Elsi would take her sewing to the riverbank while Hetta took her mid-afternoon nap. She always sat in the same spot, underneath the same tree that acted as a protective screen sheltering her from both weather and prying eyes.

Despite having found her nanny in the same spot a fair number of times, Hetta couldn’t seem to come to the logical conclusion as to where Elsi could have possibly disappeared to.

It only took another thirty odd seconds for Elsi to give up the charade. Hetta was loud and shrill, which wasn’t good for the headache that had already been building behind Elsi’s eyes. She heaved a great sigh and tucked her sewing back into her bag, folding everything neatly and ensuring that the needle wasn’t going anywhere. 

She stood and brushed away the low hanging leaves, parting them and striding out into the sunlight. “Here, Hetta.”

Hetta bounded across the short lawn and stopped in front of her nanny, where she stood bouncing on her toes. She was a blonde-haired bundle of sickeningly sweet pink and lace, a dress that Elsi had slaved over for weeks. Elsi’s keen eyes picked out the dirt smudged across the fabric covering her left knee and the slight tattering on the hem; two flaws that hadn’t been present when she dressed her that morning. 

Elsi tried not to be harsh about it. Hetta was only a child, and she was constantly reminding herself that children were SUPPOSED to play and get dirty. Had the universe been different, Elsi herself might’ve been exactly like Hetta as a child . But she’d learned early on to keep her smocks clean and pressed, as those that taught her weren’t quick to make allowances. 

She subconsciously tugged at the side of her simple blue dress to straighten the imaginary wrinkles. Lessons learned at the end of a whip didn’t fade with time.

Hetta didn’t seem to care that she behaved more like a common street urchin than the daughter of a nobleman. She had the same smug look on her face that she always wore when she knew something Elsi didn’t, which usually ended up being bad for the nanny. 

Elsi was usually quite good at predicting potential outcomes and preparing for them. But an unanticipated scenario meant she had no contingency plan for it, which exponentially increased her chances of being punished for negligence of duty.

Elsi crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her hip and tapping her foot impatiently. Hetta’s father, Lord Burkisn, might be Elsi’s master, but Hetta certainly wasn’t.

Hetta’s expression faltered under Elsi’s piercing stare. Her internal debate flickered clearly across her face: to bask in powerful sensation of teasing, or to risk some kind of punishment later on. Lord Burkisn cared for his daughter, but since the death of her mother and despite his severity towards his slaves, Elsi had almost absolute power over Hetta’s upbringing. 

Elsi was not afraid to use what little power she had been allotted, and that’s what made her the best nanny an aloof widower Nobleman could possibly ask for.

“Father wants you,” Hetta explained, glancing sheepishly down at her nanny’s shoes. 

Elsi quirked an eyebrow, hiding her unease with a lifetime’s worth of practice. “What for?”

“Dunno,” she said, then quickly adding, “But he wants you to hurry.”

Elsi doubted the child’s ignorance. Despite the threat of being reprimanded for a lack of punctuality, she fixed her charge with her best ‘no nonsense’ look that could cause plants to wilt and waited for her to offer a more acceptable explanation. It was better to be prepared than to walk into any situation blind.

Hetta loathed that look. While she loved to cause trouble, she couldn’t stand being IN trouble. The death-glare was one of the most effective weapons in Elsi’s child-rearing arsenal, and she saved it for special occasions. Although being called to her master seemed arbitrary, having been sent for by Hetta sounded alarm bells for Elsi; it meant everyone else was otherwise preoccupied, and Elsi hadn’t been aware of anything out of the ordinary. 

“We have visitors. Daddy’s special guests,” Hetta started sheepishly. “And there’s a sick baby.”

~0~0~0~ .

Elsi found her way back to consciousness slowly; she had to coax it - her mind and body - away from the relief of dreamless sleep and into the light. It burned her inside and out. 

She groaned softly and forced her eyes open. The dull sandstone ceiling twisted dizzyingly overhead. Nausea coiled in her gut like a serpent. She rolled over on her stomach and retched, but there was very little to vomit up. 

The collar had been on a high setting, higher than the usual level used to punish a slave. Anything above 75% for more than a minute or two, and you ran the risk of causing permanent injury to the slave - brain damage, heart conditions. In other words, property damage - something no slave trader or master wanted. 

If she had to guess, she would say that the collar had been set to somewhere around 90%.

Grod had probably only intended to give her a brief shock, a few seconds of electricity strong enough to break her into compliance. She imagined that he hadn’t expected to be distracted by the blaster bolts cutting down the thick Quadanium door. The Nikto had drawn his blaster, no longer caring about the woman writhing in uncontrollable agony at his feet. 

Movement flashed in the corner of her eye. Elsi wiped her mouth and gathered what little strength she still had in order to lift her head. She found herself looking into the smoking cranium of the IG unit, presumably the same one that she’d heard earlier. 

Panic filtered through her foggy mind. The hunter was dead. Had one of the Nikto killed it? Did she still belong to them?

Oh, how she hated not knowing what to expect. She’d survived this long by knowing how to play her cards; and though they were often shitty, she won by playing the other person.

Not knowing the other players could be fatal.

Instinctively, her head snapped to where she’d stashed the crib. To her dismay, the debris she’d hidden it behind had been tossed carelessly to the side. From her place on the floor, she could see that the shutters were open and the baby peeking out curiously at the man that stood between him and Elsi.

A Mandalorian.

She hadn’t met one before, but the trademark T visor was hard to miss. She’d heard the stories, and she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted them to be true. They were supposed to be warriors, noble soldiers in shining armor that were indomitable on the battlefield. The best warriors in the galaxy.

Elsi couldn’t speak as to the rest, but this particular Mandalorian seemed to have seen better days. The only parts of his armor that could even begin to be described as shining were his helmet and right pauldron, and those were coated with a fine layer of dust and sand. The rest of it was mismatched, a hodgepodge of dented metal that he wore like scales, painted with rust red or a shade of tan paint that was faded and scratched. 

If he gave a shit about his appearance, he certainly didn't show it. He stood nonchalantly with one finger extended to the baby, who was reaching for it with interested little coos. Although the baby seemed to be at the center of his attention, she could infer from the tilt of his helmet that he was keeping her in his periphery. He didn’t seem to feel at all threatened by her, though. But why should he? From what she could see, he had at least one blaster at his hip and a fearsome rifle strapped over his shoulder. 

More than that, Elsi spied her slave-fob clipped to his belt. 

Feigning another bout of nausea, Elsi grit her teeth. She hadn’t met a Mandalorian before, but from what she’d heard, they could be brutal… and tricky. Some lived by what most species would call honor, others lived by how their own personal code defined it. 

He hadn’t killed her yet, so that was something. But there were much worse things that could be done to a female slave, a bitter lesson that she’d learned very young.

Slowly, Elsi worked her way up to stand on shaking legs. Once up, she kept her hands folded in front of her and her head bowed submissively. The T of the Mandalorian’s visor turned to fix her with an empty stare. 

“What is it?” 

Despite knowing exactly what he was asking, she played ignorant. “He is a child.”

“Yes.” The indignation only just caught on his vocoder. “I was told the target was 50.”

“I can’t speak to his age,” Elsi offered, “but he has been in my care for two years, and he looks the same as he first did.”

The Mandalorian grunted and dropped his hand, which went to his hip. Elsi stiffened, bracing for pain, but instead of her fob, he came away with a canteen. He held it out to her. 

Wary, Elsi accepted it. She uncorked it and subtly sniffed the contents. Water. She took a few meager sips to help wash away the taste of sick, but didn’t dare drink outright. Water was precious in the desert. She wasn’t. 

The last thing she needed now was to outspend her own worth.

She returned the canteen. While he clipped it back to his belt, he asked, “You good to walk?”

Elsi wasn’t optimistic about how far her legs would carry her. She was already exhausted, drained by her collar and subsequent illness. And if that weren’t enough, months of being confined in a compound hadn’t done her any favors by the way of exercise. But, the way she saw it, there were only a handful of responses she could expect from telling a new master that she was too weak to walk and thus work. The Mandalorian had yet to be cruel, and might be willing to allow her to rest a little longer before setting out.

But she couldn’t rule out the other options just yet. The baby was the valuable one. Elsi severely doubted any bounty he intended to collect would be for her own delivery. He could just simply kill her to save himself both time and trouble. Or he could leave her behind.

For the baby’s sake, Elsi couldn’t afford to risk either.

“I can walk,” she said. “But first, may I collect his things?”

The Mandalorian’s helmet adopted a thoughtful tilt, as if he hadn’t considered that the child should need things other than a bassinet. 

He nodded curtly. “Be quick.”

Elsi dipped her head obediently and shuffled off to the abandoned corner she and the child usually occupied. 

Her limbs were still wobbly and ached dully from the collar, but she ignored them and quickly packed the few meager possessions they had between them into a worn russack sack; several of the child’s robes, an extra dress for Elsi, a few days worth of rations and a large canteen of water, as well as a few other odds and ends. 

Last but not least, Elsi’s special needle in its ornate casing was tucked away into one of the hidden pockets she’d sewn into her dress. The casing was made of rosy bronze metal, embossed with finger-worn roses and an image of a needle and thread. It was the only thing of worth she possessed, having inherited it from another slave. Although its contents had long since dried beyond use, she kept it close, waiting for the opportunity to fill it again. 

She finished quickly and padded back to where the Mandalorian stood waiting. Her heart clenched when she saw him holding the little cloth frog she’d made for the baby. He held it up to his visor, turning it back and forth. Elsi held her breath, half expecting him to toss it to the side. 

He didn’t. When he saw Elsi approaching, he returned the doll back to the child’s outstretched hands. The baby squeaked happily.

The Mandalorian held his hand out for the bag. Elsi gave it to him without question and watched with subdued frustration as he rooted through it and upset all of her carefully folded and packed items. 

She picked idly at the bracelet snaked around her wrist. It was the only ornamentation she’d been allowed to keep over the last ten years or so. It was nothing special, just a long braid of twisted leather with little burgundy beads that wrapped around her wrist seven or eight times. It was cheap and looked it. But wearing it made her feel safe, and so wear it she did. 

Satisfied that she wasn’t hiding any weapons from him, the Mandalorian stuffed everything half-hazardly into the bag before thrusting it back in her direction. She shouldered it without comment, hiding her displeasure at how lumpy and awkward it now was. 

Unbothered, the Mandalorian tapped idly at one of his vambraces. The bassinet beeped in confirmation. 

When he led the way out into the compound, the bassinet trailed after him obediently, its passenger giggling excitedly to his nanny, who forced a smile and nodded along to his babbling. Elsi, already dreading the journey, brought up the rear. 

~0~0~0~ .

[mcfanely]

A Mirror Image

Cole has always been aware of the Oni blood that ran through his veins. He didn't remember the exact moment when he'd been told that he wasn't entirely human, it just felt like he always knew. But he did remember the sheer about of training and time he put into perfecting the use of his inherited abilities. Shape-shifting? It was second nature, so easy to use that it was almost laughable. Yet, in battle or on missions, it became an invaluable tool. It was something he wouldn't shy away from using, no matter if the only other people who knew about his lineage was Sensei Wu and Zane.

5485 words

Sneaking through a near pitch black warehouse was never something that Cole would personally plan to do on a Saturday night, but it wasn't like he wanted to be stooping between wooden crates of presumably recently stored goods, or brushing specks of dust off his gi as he moved through areas that looked like they hadn't been swept in far too long. Which wasn't good, or very hygienic since according to the stock report he'd read a few days earlier, the crates that were towering high around him contained perishables. Foods; imported from some of the further reaches of Ninjago. 

Presumably. 

That doubt was the entire reason why Cole, along with the rest of the team, were moving through the shadows. Trying in vain to stay hidden when it felt like every footfall created a far too loud echo, which then flowed around the wide expanse of the building. If there were people inside - other people - then it was a minor shock that none of them had been alerted sooner. It felt like every drawn breath was pushing the silence of the environment, that the next exhale could bring down a wave of criminals right on top of them. 

Or maybe that was just past experiences talking, and all the training they'd all been through. In high stress situations such as a stake-out, their senses were bound to be heightened. Their hearing would be sensitive, especially to every minor noise that wound up being made. No one could be entirely quiet at every second, it just wasn't possible. The brush of clothes on clothes, light footsteps, even the beat of a heart just felt that little bit too oppressive; all unavoidable. Adrenaline ramped high caused hands to shake, even minutely. Made breathing heavier, caused eyes to track onto even the barest of movement such as a tiny dust mote that moved into his line of sight. 

Cole brought his hand up to wave the minuscule obstruction away before he thought better of himself and dropped it back down to his side. He needed to focus, keep his breathing measured and keep his eyes on where he was going, which thankfully wasn't all that hard for him. 

His team, wherever they were in the warehouse, they would be having a much harder time finding their way around. In what should be a closed off building, as the clock was more than close to chiming for midnight, it was dark outside with a waxing moon high in the sky. But inside? When they'd been peering through a shattered window not ten minutes earlier, Jay had remarked that he could just barely see the outlines of the wooden storage shelves that all but lined the entire building. 

Cole had just given a small hum of acknowledgement, peering through the window himself, before they'd moved on to their actual entry point into the building. 

There was no way that he was going to outwardly admit that he could see the darkened insides as easily as he could see his hand if he held it directly in front of his face in the middle of a sunny day. Or maybe not to that extent, but darkness had never really been an issue for him. Actually, he'd never acknowledged darkness as something that could pose a disadvantage until Sensei Wu had mentioned in passing that not everyone had the ability to see in the pitch black like he did. 

That; whilst some animals could also see well during the night, was an ability that was unique to Cole in regards to it occurring in tandem with his supposed humanity. 

Even though he wasn't entirely human to begin with, and he could thank his grandmother for that. For the fact that whenever he moved past the towering walls of stored products, he could see them easily. Everything may have been sharply tinted with a monochrome grey and just that slight bit blurred along the edges, but he could thank her that he wasn't totally blind like everyone else who was also currently, hopefully, successfully finding their own ways through the packed building. 

Jay and Nya had entered through the far side of the warehouse to where everyone else had come in, and were ideally edging their way towards the centre. Kai and Lloyd had taken the ceiling rafters, hopping from beam to beam and providing the birds eye view of the situation below. Zane was doing the same as Cole, working solo, moving in to where he was sure he could hear whispered voices floating up from a few aisles to his left. 

Cole paused for a second, his eyes slipping closed in silent frustration and realisation that maybe… Maybe it would have been a good idea for me to have taken the ceiling, since I can actually see, and Lloyd and Kai can't… 

That wasn’t a smart move. 

It was a brief mental chiding, but he hadn't intentionally given them the risky part of the job. He would never put someone in danger. Ever. It was just something that had slipped his mind, and either way, if the plan went off like it was supposed to then in the next few minutes the warehouse lighting would be back in action and they all would have clear vision as they moved in and carried out their respective roles. 

It had started with a call from Ninjago's Police Commissioner regarding some unusual activity that some of the officers had been noticing, within the warehouse district of the city. Groups of people coming and going in the cover of night, slipping into the giant buildings through small gaps that had corroded into the metal clad walls or by forcing their way inside with bolt cutters to traverse the industrial locks and chains that were used to secure the imports overnight. Cole had spent a good portion of his morning earlier that week on the phone, sat at the dining table in the Monastery with a notepad in front of him, a pen being worried between his teeth and a group of nosy and curious brothers poking their heads not so subtly around the door. All to see what the situation was. Talking with the Commissioner, writing down information as it was provided, along with determining the issue at hand and what was going to be done to address it; it had been a long and busy few hours. 

Overall, the problem had been easy to summarise for the group of ninja as they had all but piled into the room when they'd finally heard Cole's professional, "Yes, of course. Thank you for calling, I'll start planning right away and give you a call over the next day or so, so we can coordinate a joint plan of action. Right. Yes. Got it. Goodbye."

The phone hadn't even been moved from his ear before he'd basically gained a lapful of Jay as he'd come barrelling inside with an excited and sing-songed question of, "Is it a ninja problem?" 

Cole gave a short nod, before he began to spread his few pages of notes out over the table for them to be read. "The Commissioner has reason to believe there's a gang, or a group of people, breaking into the storage buildings west of the city and stealing some of the products… Or--" 

"Or?" The question was asked far too quickly, even though Cole had been about to finish his train of thought. He shot Kai a pointed look, and a raised eyebrow. Though everyone's excitement was understandable. The past few weeks had been fairly quiet, so anything vaguely interesting was more enough to break up the monotony. 

A joint operation with Ninjago PD? That was exciting. 

"Some Officers seem to think that these people aren't taking stuff, but leaving things hidden. Inside the crates." Cole carded a hand through his hair slowly, "I need to make a plan, but the basis is we all move in and apprehend the criminals, and then the police move in and make the arrests, scout the area, crack the case. And all that." He waved a hand loosely. "We just go in and make sure no one gets hurt. Easy."

It had taken a few days, and many calls and scribbled notes on post-its, torn pages of notebooks and maybe one or two sleepless nights, but Cole had a plan in place, and the Police on standby outside acting as a surrounding force. No matter what, the people inside the warehouse? They would be leaving in cuffs. All it would take was for Cole's plan to go down without a hitch. 

Easy. 

Everyone knew their job, what they had to do, it was just a matter of time. 

Cole paused mid-step just as he was turning a corner around a small pile of boxes, a sharp drag of air through his teeth ended in a clamped mouth, held breath as his eyes focused on a small group of people in front of him. Three people, two males and one female, all fairly well built and each armed with their own blaring flashlight in one hand, and an assortment of weapons in the other. Namely from what he could see, a couple baseball bats and one length of what seemed to be rusted rebar that must have been laying around. Cole's fingers itched to reach back and pull his scythe from its sheath, to have a proper fight, but that wasn't the plan. 

The plan was no injury. Jay would find the fuse box, he and Nya would get it running again and actually light up the area. Then by that time, everyone else would be in positions where they could hem in the criminals that were dotted around the building and incapacitate them until the police moved in. Simple enough. 

Cole had found his targets, his pupils shrinking to adjust for the sudden change in light levels as he kept to the shadows and observed from a careful distance. The warehouse lights turning on was the cue to move in, and that hadn't happened yet. So he waited. Listened. 

A minor huff of air came from one of the men, dressed in a loose fitting hoodie which did a good job of hiding any possible muscle underneath, though the way he wielded the rebar displayed experience and curated strength. Light swings, accompanied by a woosh sound as it sliced through the atmosphere. 

"I can't believe we're here for no reason." He groaned in a whisper, his head tilted back and eyes closed. "One person. Maybe two, that's it. Send them in, get them to retrieve the goods. Done. Sorted." There was a pause, then in an almost whine, "But no, we all have to be here."

"Because apparently there is a lot more to get than what we'd initially thought. Either way, we're not doing anything." The woman gestured around the group, "We're just here for numbers."

"Numbers?" The word was forced out around laugh, though it definitely had an air of frustration. It was as if the man wanted to be anywhere else but in that warehouse at that very time. Cole could understand that, but for a different reason. He could have been in bed, sleeping, but instead he'd spent the past week stressing out over multiple possible scenarios that could occur should the plan have to change. Or trying to make sure what he had in place would work and be effective, that each member of the team would be doing the right job, in the right place, had the right skills. 

Taking the lead was never easy, but it was rewarding. 

Yet, this man rotating the metal bar slowly in his grip with a smile on his face, where else would he be if not there? Committing another crime elsewhere? Sleeping? Either way, the only place he would be going after this night would be the police station. 

Cole found himself cracking a brief grin from where he was crouched behind a crate, his head poked just over the top to continue observing the group. The knowledge that these people were going to get what was coming for them, and they didn't even know, there was something vaguely satisfying about the situation.

All that there was between their freedom and their arrest was a well planned--

The lights flickered on. The warehouse awash so sharply with artificial white light that his widened pupils snapped so sharply down to a near pinpoint size that it made his vision bright with glare. His surroundings, moving from a pallet of greys and blacks to coloured, browns of the wooden storage boxes, reds and blues of the painted metal shelving units where everything was situated and sorted out. Now, he could see the sheer amount of dust that flowed over the floor, marked areas where people had been moving around presumably during the day, tyre tracks from heavy machinery that did the jobs that people couldn't do. 

Then, just as quickly, the lights were off again. Cole's attention immediately snapped up towards the ceiling as the orange glow of the faded bulbs finally transcended into darkness. 

What the hell? Jay, you were supposed to leave the lights on, what did you--

"Wait." 

One of the men's voices came out as a whisper, his footfalls falling into silence as Cole blinked his eyes rapidly, forcing them to get used to the light levels again. There was always that brief period where his vision was impeded, as apparently everyone experienced; but when his eyes took in light in a different way, when they took in so much more? Sudden shifts from dark to light was never a good thing. 

Though something in the tone of voice. Maybe it was the surprise? Or the shock? Or the fact that the word was said so carefully and warily that as soon as Cole had some semblance of vision he was peering over his small hiding spot and, like anyone would do, froze. 

The man, the one armed with the rebar, was staring directly at him. Sure his gaze was wandering, a little unfocused but it was definitely in his general direction. Far too close to where Cole was crouched to be anything of a coincidence, enough to make his muscles tense and adrenaline spike as he, under the cover of darkness, met eyes with the man. He stopped breathing. 

"What?" The other man asked, his tone questioning. "This place is old, lights are probably--" 

"Shut up." He spat out quickly, "I saw someone."

Now, the woman spoke up, and Cole was just observing with climbing adrenaline flowing through his muscles. This wasn't good. "What? Who? Where?" 

The next thing Cole knew, there was the bright beam of a light directly in his field of view, his eyes wincing and vision whiting over at the visual feedback the torch gave. There was a dragged breath, and a yelp from someone else, then the warehouse lights turned on. 

Cole stood quickly from his hiding position, coming face to face with the group of three who were now fully aware of his presence, though none of them seemed to be reacting immediately other than staring in his direction with wide eyes, weapons held in a lax grip and torches still on, drooping towards the floor. 

That was all in the space of a couple seconds, before darkness descended again. Now, the group decided to react to the change in circumstances. Torches whipping around widely, the sound of a baseball bat tapping hard against the floor as if one of the people were deciding to prime a swing into the oblivion of nothing that was now before them. 

Even if they had planned to attack in the general area that he'd been standing in, Cole wasn't there anymore. As soon as he had the cover of yet another impromptu power cut, he'd quickly moved from where he'd been standing without much second thought. Staying where he'd been hiding, that would be a stupid move. His presence there had already been compromised, but he had other pressing issues to contend with. 

Namely, the sheer chaos that was quick to follow. 

A shrieked, "Holy shit, what the-!" Only for the shout to be cut off by a sheer flash of blue light, and the smell of ozone quickly taking over the entire warehouse floor in under a second. Cole looked up, the far side of the building illuminated by cracks and arcs of electricity weaving out into the open air, whips and sharp retorts of discharge echoed around the warehouse and in that moment, Cole realised that his plan was going out the window rapidly.

Jay, and presumably Nya, had partially succeeded in getting the lighting on only for it to die away into an intermittent and unpredictable flickering mess. All it took was a glance up, the lighting shuddering and fluttering between being on and off, rapidly so. They were most likely reacting to Jay's element, the power of it, the present voltage. 

Then there was the situation of Cole's position in the building being compromised. He had to think, he needed to think. Only, that was easier said than done. The sounds of people delving into a fight bouncing off the walls from different sides of the warehouse. Clangs and scrapes of presumably makeshift weapons, shouting and grunts of pain and effort met Cole's ears in a layered cacophony of information. 

No, no, he had to figure something out. He couldn't stay where he was, since that group of three people knew that there was at least someone close by; lurking in the shadows. Being on the receiving end of the rebar or even a bat was not high upon his list, but neither could he leave them unattended. There were sounds of battle, sure, but Jay and Nya could more than handle themselves. Cole could too. 

Which possibly meant forgoing a plan, and just working on instinct. Assessing the situation, reacting to what was happening in the now and not what would need to be done later. He let out a short breath, and unclenched his hands from fists and let them hang loosely as he traversed around a small area of boxed products. Cole kept the three people in his line of vision at all times, the torch light shifting rapidly from surface to surface as they presumably searched for him. 

"Did you see that?" a man screeched, his torch fixed on the crate that Cole had been behind. 

"The guy?"

"No, the eyes! Did you see the eyes?" He exclaimed, yelped even. 

He was shocked, confused. Scared even. Apparently, a length of rebar didn't provide a sense of security. 

After a brief pause, the woman's voice added, "They glowed." 

"They glowed!" 

Tapetum Lucidum. The term Zane has used. Eyeshine, a result of Cole's night-vision. Not natural in humans, by any means. The group of three seemed to be plainly aware of the impossibility of the scenario they were faced with. 

Words laced with shock, pacing and hard footfalls, they all echoed and distracted, but Cole even could come up with the most basic plan if the situation needed it. What the Earth Master knew was that he needed a little more time than he currently had. He needed to focus, needed silence, and three criminals having a minor freak out in front of him didn't help one bit. 

He needed them all to just pause, which was easier said than done. With the overhead lights flickering intermittently and out of sync, the movement of torches, the three people realising they were in a situation where they couldn't even make sense of who they were facing? It wasn't a recipe for calm. 

It caused heavy breathing, spikes in heart rate that Cole could barely hear around the sharp echoes of their footsteps as they turned around. The flickering bulbs provided some form of vision, cascading over the room in spasming and extremely brief washes of white and along with it, mere milliseconds where the ninja could properly take in the environment in a way that wasn't awash with black and grey tones. 

He needed clear vision, he needed to be able to take a proper look at someone. On a normal day, outside in the sunlight, it was second nature for Cole's attention to go straight up to someone's face. It was a regular social cue, to make eye contact when talking or interacting but there was always that little bit more to it than being polite. For Cole, at least. It was how his powers functioned the best. Normal days provided time, he could watch the person walk, the way they held themselves; listen to how they spoke and the mannerisms they favoured, the light lilt to their voices. Did they favour their left or right hand? What were they wearing? 

There always tended to be time, but in that moment? In the warehouse where he was keeping his steps as quiet as possible, a fight raging somewhere off to his left and absolutely no plan to fall back on other than dealing with the small group in front of him, to then go find and help his team? With limited significant visual input? 

There wasn't time. There wasn't even time to think. 

The lights kept flickering. 

On and off. 

On. The man with the rebar was wearing a grey-- no, a blue hoodie. 

Off. He'd had brown hair? He'd seen it before, when the lights had been fully on. 

A flash of lightning. Ripped jeans, black sneakers. 

His face? Cole had seen it. It had been a couple of shocked seconds being caught in his hiding spot by the man's wandering gaze. It was there somewhere, in his memory. He always remembered faces. Blue eyes, pale skinned, shaven beard--

Screw it, there isn't time to be overthinking! 

On. 

The group of three fell quiet in an instant. Or at least, two of them did. The woman, and the man wielding a baseball bat. Their eyes were wide, comically so, but Cole wasn't laughing. He was just staring back at them. 

They weren't moving. Only standing there with their weapons held by their sides, mouths hanging open just slightly. No one was saying a word. No one seemed to want to even risk drawing a breath.

They were both staring back at their rebar wielding friend, who had a much tighter grip on his strip of metal. Their gaze flicking from the left to the right in silent confusion and sudden shock. 

Since it wasn't just their friend staring back with an alarmed expression. There were two of them, where the well built man in the blue hoodie stood, just a few mere paces back from the original, there was an exact carbon copy. Dishevelled light hair, blue eyes reflecting the light, expression carefully neutral. 

Or was the one standing closest to the pair of criminals the fake? 

The silence echoed nearly, and it was exactly what Cole had needed. A pause, a minute distraction. He was well aware that he could analyse more in a few brief seconds than anyone, and that single second of staring around the group and their joint expression of something that was bordering on fear, taking in their stances and their tensed muscles that indicated they were ready for either a fight or to run, Cole was ready. 

Then, again, when the lights predictably flickered out for the umpteenth time, he moved. 

First to the man he had shifted into; and to be honest it had been clear who the original was. The immediate reaction for gazing at a mirror image of one's self was surprise, and the man's face had been a picture of it. It wasn't as if he'd been trying to act like the man. There hadn't been time, or the need, the purpose was just to form a plan. 

Now he had one, more or less. The details were vague, but coming together slowly and surely. He needed to reduce the group size, starting with the one who was the biggest threat. 

The man with the rebar was taken down, with the cover of darkness providing a much needed advantage. Between a scythe still strapped to his back, and a meter and a bit of metal already primed for a swing? Cole hadn't liked his odds with a one on one fight. 

Now, all he had to do was deal with the other two. 

There were shouts of alarm from the two remaining thugs, trying to correlate an attack when they probably couldn't see their hand in front of their face without their torches to aid them. They must have been discarded somewhere.

Cole stepped over to the woman next, his gaze set. This time, he'd do a better job. The sensation of the familiar cold purple fog shuttered rapidly over his chest, down his limbs and clouding over his sight for a single brief instance. It tousled his hair, and brought a minor sense of disorientation that righted itself in an instant. The sensation of shifting always brought a wide smile to his face, even in the current tense circumstances. The cascade of change, the way it was so easy. There wasn't a way to explain it, it just happened. Like taking a breath, like lifting an arm. 

The warehouse lit up. The hanging lights the brightest they'd been, the crackle of lightning ceasing and the sounds of the fights drawing to a close. 

Then, one raised baseball bat later, and a calculated strike to the side of the woman's head with the butt of the carved wood and she crumpled down to the floor in an instant, eyes rolled back into her head. 

There was a laugh, just to the left hand side. The last man was still standing with his own bat held tightly in his grip. It was easy to tell the source of his glee, even though seemingly two of his companions were laid out unmoving on the concrete floor. 

It was the fact that the woman, chest heaving deeply, long blonde hair dishevelled, drooping forwards over her face and partially shielding her eyesight was still standing. 

And in front of her, on the floor, with a pale pallor and a reddened welt already forming rapidly on the side of her head was the doppelganger. Taken down by a single lucky swing, and a successful one at that, since it had been executed when they'd been surrounded by darkness. 

"Take that you-- uh, thing!" she jeered after a second, taking a small hopped step forwards, lifting one foot to tap at her own mirror image's shoulder. When there was no immediate response other than the prone body to rock slightly to the side, she stepped back with a wider grin.

Though, her tone was questioning when she squinted and cast her gaze over the body, "What even are you? You're… you looked human." She mused, turning back to face the only standing man with a small smile and a look of accomplishment. 

Yet all that she was met with was a gaze now filled with distrust and wariness. 

"I mean, you saw him right? That guy? Do you think it's him or something else?" 

The only thing her question was met with, was pure silence and a furrowed brow. Even, a searching expression that switched rapidly between the prone form on the floor, and the visage of the same person still standing. 

She took a step closer to her friend, bat draped lazily over one shoulder. 

"Wait." the man said. 

She stopped. 

Then after a second, a frown marred her own features. "What?" she moved the bat again, energy dissipating out through fiddled movements and an inability to stand still. She rested it against the floor, propping her weight up onto it. "Are you really going to stand there," She gestured with one hand, "and ask me if I'm me?" It was a question one that held a tone of slight sarcastic shock, at the sheer absurdity of the situation that they'd both found themselves in. All it was, was moving some goods. They weren't even important to the overall task and it seemed as though everything had gone wrong anyway. 

"No, well," The man forced out a breath, his gaze flicking between his friend who was standing just a little in front of him, his male compatriot behind him, and the fourth person on the floor. He cleared his throat heavily, "You saw that thing." 

"Yeah, the guy following us. And you saw the lightning." She added after a moment, nodding loosely to the far side of the warehouse where the impromptu lightshow had come from. "That guy probably didn't come alone." 

"You think?" 

She rolled her eyes at that, "We should get going. If there's more than just that one guy here, we should leave. What if there's other people who can do that?" The question was poised with a second prompt glance to the man, as if scrutinising him. The expression was returned, but not maintained, since all too quickly their eyes fell to the unconscious male. 

"What the hell even happened?" was mumbled, the man's tone disbelieving. "He turned into Mikey. Like, exactly into him. Or," He paused, "Was it even that guy? What the hell can do that?" 

"Well, whatever. The guy-- thing. Whatever it is, he's going to be out for a while. Let's go head back to the others." She shrugged, one finger tapping absentmindedly on the side of her leg as she started to walk away from the scene. 

Only, the other man didn't move from where he was standing, shuffled steps leaving grooves in the dust covered floor, his fingers wrapping just a little too tight around his bat. "What's my name?"

"What?"

"My name. You tell me it, and I'll know it's you."

There was a brief pause, and a huffed laugh. "Really? You're doing this right now? We've just been attacked by who knows what; from the sounds of it the fighting that was happening is over and I highly doubt we've won, otherwise we would have already left, right?" she raised an eyebrow, and when she didn't get a reply she scoffed. "Come on, man, we need to go. The cops are probably crawling around this place."

"I'll move when you tell me my name."

"How do I know that you're you? You could be asking for your name so you can sell the lie more." She said, her voice climbing an octave at the statement, but the man didn't seem to budge. He was just watching, staring. 

He wasn't budging. 

Eventually, the woman's expression fell just that little bit. It was barely anything, just a slight drop to the shoulders, a tilt of the head. She lifted her free hand and ran it through her hair, her expression changing minutely as she ran her fingers through the strands, as if the length of them was slightly surprising. Though the action looked so casual, so carefully normal.

The biggest change though, was her voice. It took on a slightly vexed tone, almost as if she was let down by the turn of events. 

"Why does everyone always ask that question?" She questioned, "Is it James?" 

"Elijah." came the clipped and quiet reply.

"Man, so close."

Between one second and the next, the resounding sound of air parting as the momentum of the moving bat picked up rapidly, and a satisfying thwack sound as the wood came into contact with the man's cheek, sending him crumpling to the ground. The only woman in that group was the one laid out on the floor amongst, now, her two equally unconscious friends.

Cole just looked over the group for a second, a tiny lick of blackened smoke finally tumbling off his hands and dissipating into nothingness, the rush of his power fading to a low adrenaline fuelled hum in the back of his head as if it was itching to be used again so soon. He took a minute, moving from person to person. First, checking that they could and were breathing, then using a pocket full of zip-ties to fasten their hands behind their backs when he was content in the knowledge that other than superficial injuries, the knocks to the head weren't anything significant. He stepped back. 

His foot knocked against the baseball bat he'd discarded beforehand, rolling lazily over the floor. 

"So much for no fighting." Cole mumbled as he cast his attention elsewhere in the warehouse. Overall, it was silent. No shouting, no nothing. 

Which could either mean good things, or bad. 

He carded a hand through his hair and pulled his scythe from his back, rolling the wooden handle in his hands before he set off walking through the brightly lit building. 

"Always that question."

-

AO3

[nais-nook]

Sawyer - Pt 3

(Hey there! You may be liking/reblogging something without links to new pieces I may have written for this character, just letting you know in case you’re interested in reading more!)

Imagine writing a Sawyer part but he doesn’t show up. That’s so like Sawyer lmao. I promise he shall return. Sawyer belongs to @yandere-flower​

~***~

Part 1,  Part 2

Summary:  You get rescued, though the person who landed you in this predicament is nowhere to be found.

Pairing: Male x Female Reader.

Words: 2402.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Swearing, Violence (and Blood).

Your fingers were numb, and yet you still felt the burn in your wrist and the thousands upon thousands of pin pricks running up and down your arms. The strained muscles in your back and legs let you know you had been in this position for longer than anyone should, and despite your body begging for release, the restraints that held you wouldn’t budge. You couldn’t see anything, not with the damp strip of whatever it was wrapped tightly around your eyes. 

In the darkness you could make out vague whispers - one distinctly nasally, alongside a much gruffer and scratchier voice. Whether the stale stench of cigarettes and alcohol was coming from them or not, you didn’t know. There was a scuff of boots. What you could only assume was broken glass was scraped aside along the floor, then the scrap of material was ripped off your face.

You winced, eyes watering as they adjusted to the harsh light spilling in from the ajar door. Your years of training did not help as bile began to rise in your throat, burning and bitter. The beat of your heart grew so intense it was all you could do to not focus on it.

The man crouching in front of you was tan, with greying hair and wrinkles to match.

“Where’s the white-haired Japanese prick?” 

You were taken aback, expecting him to be the one that sounded like he smoked a pack a day. He was the nasally sounding one, speaking as if he had a stuffy nose.

“I - what?”

He moved in extremely close. You tried not to gag. “What, you don’t speak English, sweetheart?”

Sawyer. They were definitely talking about Sawyer. Why were you being asked about Sawyer?

“I- I’m sorry, I-”

Before you could utter another word, something metal was pressed against your temple. You were suddenly very conscious of every slight movement you made, of the air being sucked out of the room. Cold dread ran rampant in your veins.

Calm, calm, panicking won’t help you.

It was much easier thought than done.

“Where. Is. The tattooed dude. With the piercings. You know who we’re talking about.”

“Sawyer.” The lanky one standing in the doorway spoke. “Cauley.”

“Who’s that?”

Lies, lies, all lies. The smell of the room suffocated you. Rust and damp and foul. Your legs trembled, against your will.

“Listen girly,” the thing at your temple pressed harder, “don’t act stupid. We know you patched him up after he had a scrap in that alleyway.”

The man at the door sighed, picking at the glass of its shattered window. “We just need to know where he is. We’ll leave you alone after that, alright?”

Even if they were telling the truth, and they would let you go after you told them, you had nothing to tell them. Sawyer had made good on his promise to never see you again, so the fact that these people even knew you were barely associated would have been baffling. If you weren't so terrified, that was.

“I don’t know,” you answered, voice shaking despite your honesty.

“Try again.” 

It was a blade pressed against you, and the bastard holding it had drawn blood. Searing pain ripped across your skin. You almost retched. You hoped and prayed at the very least the blade was clean.

Your words tumbled out, each one more frantic than the last. “I swear, I don’t. I patched him up and he left. He could be halfway across the world by now for all I know.”

“See the thing is, we have a score to settle.”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand.”

The blade travelled from your temple to your neck, its tip dragging along your skin. You leaned back as far as you could. From the glimpse you caught, the blade wasn’t rusted, but you knew that meant jack shit on whether it was actually clean.

“Someone very important died because of Sawyer.” The older man mumbled.

“W-what? Who?”

He pressed the knife right up against your carotid artery. Tears blurred your vision. “Ah, see, you’re not privy to that information.” 

“I’m telling you I have no idea where he is.”

 The one fiddling with the broken glass looked straight at you. “He didn’t say anything, hm? Didn’t send anything?”

He had sent you something. Flowers. But the address on that was probably fake, assuming Sawyer had some working brain cells left in that head of his. 

A hand wrapped around your throat and you flew into a blind panic.

“Flowers. He sent me flowers, but I threw away the card, I don’t know where it is.”

The gangly man nodded; eyes fixed on a point you couldn’t discern. “So, he did survive after you were done with him. Interesting.”

They… thought he had died? They thought he had died. You just told them he was alive and well.

Shit, shit, shit -

“So -”

A loud thump echoed throughout the room, its source right outside the door. You didn’t want another stranger walking into the room, not when you were so close to passing out. The room tilted.

The gangly one at the door slipped what looked to be a gun from his belt (a terrible place to keep a gun, really). It did nothing to stop the person outside from barrelling in and completely knocking him out in a matter of seconds. The man who was previously holding a knife to your neck seemingly manifested a gun out of nowhere and pointed it at… Thomas?

It was Thomas. 

You flinched, expecting a gunshot to tear right through Thomas’ chest. Instead the bullet that pierced the air came from the hallway and landed squarely in your captive’s shoulder. His cry was shrill in your ears, but even that couldn’t distract you from the sight that was Ambrose, her hair tied back and face ghastly as she stalked in. She landed a stomp on the man's head. He fell silent.

“Hey.” It was Thomas, fiddling with the restraints around your wrists. “You okay?”

“No,” you choked. From the corner of your eye you witnessed Ambrose drag the taller of the two unconscious men through the door and shattered glass. You could have broken down into tears right then and there. From fear and relief.

Thomas stopped for a moment, and he pressed his forehead against yours. You felt a little more at ease when he whispered, “You don’t have to be.”

Your wrists were rubbed raw and your joints cracked when you were helped up. You nearly toppled over at the sudden chorus of gunfire and yelling from below.

“Sorry about your ankles hun, but you’re going to have to run.” Ambrose frowned, head tilting towards the direction of the hallway.

“Run?” 

Thomas stroked your hair back, face shrouded with sympathy. “I’d carry you, but that would just make both of us a bigger target.”

“Don’t fret, Tommy and I’ll be right next to you.” 

Ambrose swivelled her foot right as someone tried to barge through the door, flipping them effortlessly into a pile of crumpled beer cans. With a swift kick of her steel toed boots the man went still. Immediately she reached for you, fingers wrapping around your upper arm and steered you down the hall. You didn’t miss how she completely avoided your damaged wrists.

It was darker. Much darker than the room you were tied in moments ago, and you had to hold onto Ambrose with your aching fingers to steady yourself. Ambrose approached the end of the hallway, the dim glow revealing a set of stairs. The fighting was deafening here. Gunshots and shouts reverberated through the narrow passage as you struggled to keep your breathing steady. Thomas, who had been padding behind, silently advanced in front of you, giving a hand signal you didn’t understand before creeping down the stairs.

“I know.” Ambrose gave your arm a little squeeze. “Just pretend you’re at some sort of intensive surgery. Nothing will happen if you do what we say, okay?”

“Okay…”

The faint light from the stairwell made Ambrose’s face look younger, softer. And then you remembered she wasn’t that much older than you to begin with. What caused her to fall into such a violent line of work, you didn’t know. Maybe if you both got out of this alive you would ask her.

Tentatively, you stepped down the stairs, wincing at the spike of pain that shot up your leg as you placed weight on your ankles. Ambrose’s arm was immediately at your waist, and she supported you as best she could down the uneven steps. As you got closer you could pick out the thump of things being thrown amongst the yelling. Thomas was crouching on the bottom step, face serious.

Ambrose drew you closer still, her voice hushed as she said, “Listen, we’re gonna have to do some running and ducking, okay? Just don’t let go of me.” Thomas threw up another hand sign before disappearing into the fray. “We just gotta wait for a little while.”

A little while is probably what it was, but it felt like the moment stretched on for an eternity. Then, out of nowhere, three shots rang out in the mess, clear as day. Ambrose didn’t say a word, jerking you forward so roughly you nearly tripped over yourself. 

A warehouse - you were in a warehouse, dodging and weaving through gargantuan shipment crates as Ambrose pushed and pulled you through bits of debris and rubbish. You couldn’t take it all in even if you tried. You caught a glimpse of Thomas in the corner, wrestling someone carrying switchblades. Gasps of moon rays filtered through the broken beams in the ceiling.

“Eyes forward (Y/n), you’re going to fall,” Ambrose hissed, pressing you flush against a metal container as someone was thrown right past you both. Whether they were friend or foe you were unsure.

The noise was giving you a headache amongst other things, and if it weren’t for the adrenaline and Amrbose’s insistent tugging you could have fallen asleep right there. Exhausting was seeping into your veins like you were on a drip. It felt like a miracle when Ambrose was able to steer you to a door, before shoving you through it.

“Get into a car, any of the grey ones, hurry.”

The door was flung shut.

Why, why, why - 

Why were they risking everything to come and get you? You did nothing for them. You had nothing to give them. 

Something heavy slammed against the other side of the door. You could barely hear the sound of your soles hitting the pavement over the noise as you scrambled to the cars, climbing into the nearest one. 

“... Riley?”

The door wasn’t even shut properly before the tyres squealed and the car jerked forwards. You clung to everything and anything. Every turn of the car caused you to lurch against the seats and doors.

“Get your belt on!” He veered right. Hard. “Did you not hear me?!”

“I’m trying!”

You finally managed to clip the buckle in just as he swerved right again.

“Riley you’re going to kill me!”

“Shut the fuck up, or I will kill you on purpose!”

A digital ringing resounded in the car. Riley’s hand shot out, grabbing one of the many mobiles strapped to the dashboard. You saw his mouth move in the rear-view mirror but could barely hear the words spoken over the roar of the engine and tyres.

“Oi, (Y/n),” he yelled, giving you a passing glance in the mirror, “hold on to something.”

What?

If you were finding it difficult to keep your insides where they belonged before, you were definitely struggling now. Riley paid no mind to the speed bumps dotted along the road, skidded around corners at a speed you knew was illegal, and even forced the car down narrow alleyways.

“Riley! Why are you driving like a maniac?!”

“I’m trying to get you to the drop off point!”

“Drop off point?!”

You barely managed to process what he said as you were flung right against the window. You caught a flash of the menacing smile plastered onto Riley’s face as he gripped the wheel and gear stick in terrifying confidence.

He yelled over the engine, “Listen, we’re hitting a tunnel soon, and you’re gonna have to jump!”

“What?!”

Your head was spinning.

“As soon as I tell you to go, you fling that door open as far as it goes, and you fucking jump!”

“I’ve never done anything like that before! I’m going to die!”

“Well, if we get caught, we’re both fucking dead!”

This is it, you thought, mind a flurry of too many things with too little time to sort them out. I’m going to actually die, and my family will have no idea where I went or who took me or -

Cars identical to the one you were strapped in tailing behind Riley’s erratic driving. Your car slowed down slightly as it entered a tunnel, plunging you into darkness. Your heart lurched in your throat. 

A hand on your leg pulled you out of your panicked stupor. Riley’s green eyes were lit up by the lights on the dashboard. He stared at you in the mirror, his face deathly calm. The world quietened down immediately.

“You open the door as far as it goes, you jump at an angle away from the car - there’ll be a grassy patch so the landing won’t be as rough - and then you pull all your limbs in and roll. Land on your shoulder if you can. You’ll be fine.”

And then all the sounds came crashing back.

“Someone will pick you up, just hide near the entrance of the tunnel until they arrive! Ready?!”

“No, I’m not,” you whispered, hands shaking like mad as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Wait for it.”

Your knuckles blanched as you gripped the handle.

“Now!”

You flung yourself out of the car.

You could have sworn you heard something crack as you landed on your shoulder. Your skin was on fire as you skidded across the grass. You pulled back just as the grey cars sped by, one after another.

And despite being exhausted to the brink of collapsing, you still managed to drag yourself to hide in the shadows on the tunnel.

All that was left to do was wait.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) ranov'la STAR WARS

Fives hits the ground running, his heart pounding in his ears and the truth of what he had learned weighing heavy on his shoulders. It’s like a collar around his neck, dragging him down like he’s running through a bog.

When he’d first started his desperate investigation into Tup’s mysterious actions and death, he’d never imagined this.

The Chancellor of the Republic is the mastermind behind everything. He was pulling all the strings, and everyone had just been a piece in his game - all the brothers Fives had lost, all the death and suffering, it was all Palpatine. The Chancellor was behind everything. He was the one behind the War, behind their cloning, and behind the chip in their heads that would be used to kill the Jedi if Fives couldn’t get his intel into the right hands. It was all a game, one that had turned into a session of hunt-and-hunted as the Chancellor sends the Coruscant Guards after him.

They’d be aiming to kills, Fives knows, because to them he’s just a single renegade clone who just tried to kill the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. They’ll have been made aware of Fives’ rank as a highly skilled ARC Trooper, and Fives knows enough about their training to know what it will mean - the Guard will be shooting first and asking questions later because fighting an ARC Trooper head on, even one with a CT designation, would easily spell the deaths of them and their brothers if Fives was actually a threat. And that was without considering the possibility that Palpatine hadn’t already activated the chips in the heads of the Vode of the Guard to ensure that Fives would die on Coruscant and no one would listen to the truth.

Force, Fives had really stepped in it this time. Echo must be cursing up a storm in the afterlife over his recklessness. He should have gone to the High Generals first, like General Ti had suggested. He should have left the information with someone he trusted in case of this very situation. He should have turned on his comm and broadcasted the Chancellor’s arrogant confession across every open channel in the GAR.

He should have done a lot of things. It’s the story of his life really.

So Fives runs, and keeps running. He needs to find somewhere to hunker down and plan, and try to ride out whatever drug the damned Longneck had dosed him with. He won’t be able to plan his next move if he can’t stay focused, no one would believe him either if he came up to them drugged out of his kriffing minds and acting erratically. He needs somewhere to rest and recover, and to try to reach out to some trusted brothers who might believe him.

It’s when Fives ducks into an abandoned and rundown warehouse many levels down from the planet’s surface that he realizes that he wouldn’t be able to contact anyone from the 501st. That’s what would be expected of him, and would put his brothers in danger if they were being monitored. To reach out to any of them would mean casting the entire Legion in a suspicious light and would possibly mean bringing the wrong kind of attention onto them. Rex was probably already in interrogation, being his immediate superior, as would Jesse and Kix, being the two living brothers Fives was closest two. He didn’t want to bring more attention to them, but who else did he have?

Commander Blitz? No, he wouldn’t want to hear from him after Fives had plowed through Rancor Battalion, even if he hadn’t killed any of them. He had lost so many in the Battle for Kamino that he took any attack on his men as a person slight, and would hold a vicious grudge, even against one of the ARC Troopers he had trained personally. Besides, he must have already left the planet after dropping Fives off on General Ti’s orders, and would be too far away to help even if he wanted to.

Commander Doom was still mourning the loss of one of his Generals and didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess so soon after General Tiplar’s funeral. He needed to be there for his surviving men and remaining General, and the truth of General Tiplar’s death would put him and the rest of his broken Battalion in danger.

Commander Cody was his best bet. He and the 212th were scheduled for shore leave, and his connection with Fives wasn’t as well known. To the outside eye, Commander Cody was the perfect Marshal Commander, and didn’t have a close bond to anyone in the 3rd System Army to avoid favouritism, though everyone who knew him was well aware of his soft spot for Ghost and Torrent Companies. He worked with enough Commando squads that no one would question it if he disappeared for a few hours without warning, because of his role with SpecOps. Cody could get him in contact with anyone he wanted, he had eyes and ears everywhere, and if anyone could get Fives’ information to the Jedi, it was Commander Cody.

The downside? Fives didn’t know where Cody would be during shore leave. There was a reason why his personal Company was called Ghost, and it wasn’t because they were superstitious - the man could disappear scarily well for a guy in bright orange, and the only people Fives had ever seen actually know how to track him down were General Kenobi and Captain Rex, who seemed to have a sixth - or seventh, in the General’s case - sense dedicated solely to locating Commander Cody at any given time.

A clatter draws Fives out of his plots, and the ARC Trooper goes carefully still, reaching slowly for the closest thing that he could use as a weapon if needed. He curls his fingers around a rusty pipe, and strains his ears, listening for the sound again. There it is, closer this time, and Fives slowly lifts himself to his feet, pushing his body deeper into the shadows offered by the crates he was surrounded by. He stays predator-still, forcing himself past the fuzziness of the drugs in his veins, and keeps himself from shaking through years of intense training and an iron will.

A Trooper in red steps into the large warehouse store room, and Fives almost wants to curse. He knows that paint job - everyone does.

It’s Commander Fox himself.

Fives tightens his hold on the pipe, wishing that he hadn’t ditched his stolen blaster. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to lessen his threat level, but if the Chancellor had activated the Guards’ chips, then they’d shoot whether he was armed or not. At least Fox seemed to be alone. Even drugged as he is, Fives thinks he could hold his own against the Commander, as long as he could catch the older clone by surprise.

Commander Fox prowls through the room, helmet swinging as he searches and Fives forces himself to calm down. He forces himself to slow his breathing, and even his heart rate as he wills himself to blend into the shadows, horribly glad that he had ditched the white plastoid armour about three levels up.

“Building’s clear.” He hears Commander Fox reporting, “Moving on to the next grid.” Fives releases a slow breath, eyes on Fox’s back where he stands mere meters away from where the ARC hides-

-and then, because Fives has the worst possible luck in the history of terrible luck, he sways, vision graying out for the shortest of moments. The pipe in his hands impacts the nearest crate with a dull ringing sound, and the noise kriffing echoes in the empty warehouse.

Commander Fox stiffens, and Fives watches in slow motion as he begins to turn. He panics. Next thing Fives knows, he’s crossing the short distance between them in a rush, lifting the pipe as he goes. Fox is nearly facing him, and Fives swings, catching the Guard Commander in the side of the helmet with enough force to crack the old metal.

Commander Fox crumbles, bucket dented, and he doesn’t get back up. Fives wheezes, adrenaline shaking his limbs more forcefully than even the drugs managed to, and he stares at the limp Commander in shock.

“Well, shit.” He says softly, but with a lot of feeling behind it. “Damn.” The pipe clatters when he drops it, and Fives kneels beside him to carefully pull the helmet off. Commander Fox’s temple is already swelling, bruises already beginning to darken the skin, and part of his forehead had actually split open under the force of the blow and was bleeding sluggishly. Fives winces, pressing his sleeve to the wound to stem the flow, “I’m so dead when you wake up, aren’t I?” He asks the unconscious Trooper.

He should go - he should move on, but Fives doesn’t want to leave the Commander here where anyone can come across him. Doing so could very well be signing a brother’s KIA report if the wrong sort finds him.

“I’m so kriffed.” Fives mourns, staring at the limp CC. There goes any chance to hunt down Commander Cody -

Wait.

His eyes pause on the comm around Fox’s wrist, sucking in a shocked breath. His heart flutters in excitement, and Fives reaches forward to pry off the Commander’s vambrace. “Fives you mad genius.” He says into the silence. A few crossed wires should do the trick to cut off any chance of the comm being tracked - Crys had taught him all about it during a mission with the Ghosts behind enemy lines. Commander Fox would have Cody’s frequency; Fives had seen it himself that all the Commanders had person lines to each other to stay in contact when they could.

This was perfect - a chance coincident that he had never expected to fall into his lap. All it had taken was bludgeoning a Marshal Commander over the head, and - well, fuck it - Fives was already wanted for treason, may as well add assault of a Superior officer to the list. What was a little bit of near-murder between friends saving the Galaxy?

In his hands, the comm beeps as it connects, and Fives almost cries with relief when Commander Cody answers.

“This better be important, Fox.”

[smokeybrand]

Rise of the Skywalker

This sh*t with Lucasfilm is wild to witness. I’m not really one to buy into entertainment gossip but i am emotionally invested in Star Wars. I’m an Eighties kid, man. Star Wars helped to shape our childhood growing up. Vader is one of my all-time favorite antagonists. Ahsoka has grown to rival him in my heart as a beloved character. As a cat who creates, myself, i can’t help but adore the passion and creativity i n the entire world lore around the Skywalker legend. I mean, look at everything built around those first three films. Just taking Legends into account, you have the absolutely excellent Shadows of the Empire and the Thrawn trilogy. More than that, and probably one of the best game franchises ever realized, you have The Knight of the Old Republic. F*ck, dude, Revan? Nihilus? Bastila? Kreia? HK-47? This is Bioware at it’s finest, save Mass Effect 2. And then Disney cam in and f*cked it all up.

Kathleen Kennedy has been a poison to the franchise, and not because of her identity politics. Look, you can work in your ideals and messages without being so goddamn heavy-handed with it but this chick, and her “writer’s group.” can’t craft a story to save their lives. That’s the problem here. Not Rey or Finn or Poe. Not Holdo or Rose Tico. Not even Snoke. It’s how these characters were presented, it’s how the writing shaped them. I’ve written at length about how Rey was a missed opportunity and, according to the original leaked treatment, that misstep was more like an outright face-plant The Rey that was to grow throughout the Sequel trilogy, culminating in a battle between a fully realized, Jedi Knight Rey and a fully realized Sith Lord Ren, should have been the Last Jedi we got. Instead, we got what we got and it shattered the credibility of the entire franchise. Star Wars, the most successful franchise in cinematic history until the MCU came through, was on life support. Forty years of solid, narrative storytelling, ancillary material, and fan passion, squandered because the chick in charge wanted to instill everything with her identity politics, using something she had no creative credit toward, co-opting the shine of another, to secure her legacy. And she did just that; Kathleen Kennedy was the person who almost killed Star Wars. Kennedy’s legacy of failure, secure. But then, a new hope. Jon Favreau, the progenitor of the MCU, stepped forward and saved Star Wars with his show, The Mandalorian.

John Favreau is a great creator. Dude not only gave us Iron Man, but Chef, Swingers, and Elf. He gets the content but, more than anything, Favreau understands how to craft a goddamn story. He was appointed to The Mandalorian and given creative control by, at the time, CEO of Disney, Bob Iger. Favreau, in partnership with the genius pariah, Dave Filoni, architect of Star Wars: Clone Wars, Rebels, and the best f*cking character created in the modern era, Ahsoka Tano. With theses two at the helm, Mando returned to the true essence of a Star Wars tale. They created their own pocket universe, one with the evolution of the Mandalorian culture and sprinkled with shenanigans of an adorable, and marketable, Baby Yoda. That first season gave us amazing characters like Din Djaran, Cara Dune, Greef Kaga, and Moff Gideon. That first season of Mando saved the franchises and that is not an exaggeration. It felt like Star Wars. The characters were rich and developed. More than anything, the stories told were absolutely excellent. The funny thing about that? Mando isn’t expected to succeed like it did. No, everyone, including Kennedy, thought it was going to fail. She fought, tooth and nail, against what Favreu was trying to created, sabotaging him at every turn. But he was able to complete his show and the fandom received it with utmost fervor, eclipsing anything Kennedy and her idealouges every created. Then season two dropped.

I’m not going to sit her and say that the narrative for Season two was better than the first. It wasn’t. But that’s because season two of The Mandalorian was a love letter to the fans. Favreau and Filoni had a hit on their hands with Mando and, more importantly, they made Star Wars profitable again. This gave the two of them a margin of creative freedom that expanded into something truly marvelous. That second season of Mando was able to dig deep into the lore, introduce fan favorite characters like Ahsoka Tano and Bo-Katan Kreyze, reintroducing Boba Fett while giving him a bad-ass second in Fennec Shand, while expanding the universe for spin-offs and delivery a franchise altering return of a Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker! Kennedy spent her entire sequel trilogy, discrediting and marginalizing the old trilogy, typified by the complete destruction of Luke in The Last Jedi, only for Mando to overturn, redeem, and empower Luke with a two minute gauntlet of Force awesomeness that rivaled the utter dominance displayed by his father at the end of Rogue One. That tidbit about Vader? Yeah, Kennedy fought against that, too. The Mando came through and proved that fallowing Lucas’ path was the true way of the Star War and Chepek agreed. We now have this entire blueprint of shows birthed from this one season, that will build toward an Avengers-level event. Ahsoka, Rangers of the New Republic, and The Book of Boba Fett will all culminate in a cinematic experience, most likely a theatrical film, based around Thrawn. And, more to the point, people are excited about this sh*t. People are looking forward to this sh*t. People want this sh*t. What they don’t want is more of Kennedy’s politics and bullsh*t hot-takes, masquerading as Star Wars canon. Case in point, the abject failure of The High Republic.

Before Favreau and Filoni came through and saved Star Wars, Kennedy had this entire idea for a full-on Star Wars universe, built upon token diversity and f*cking Space dinosaurs. There was a pitch meeting that showed a literal checklist and story was the third or fourth option. How the f*ck is story not the first thing on the list for an actual narrative you’re writing? Why the f*ck isn’t the Writer’s group, not putting story first, in a narrative they’re constructing by committee? That is the genesis of The High Republic. In the time that Youtube preview hit the fandom with all the force of a wet fart, Mando came through and proved no one wants that sh*t. Then season two came through and rived people want more Luke and more Lucas Star Wars, weeks before The High Republic, the jumping off point for Kennedy’s original vision for “New Star Wars” was supposed to launch. Yeah, that launch ain’t go so well. The High Republic is out, right now, and you can buy it. No one is buying it. They’re all paying for Disney+ memberships to watch Mando sh*t on everything Kennedy has done or will do. Disney announced a whole slate of Star Wars shows and material. One of which is The Acolyte, a spin-off from The High Republic tarring Brie Larson and written by Leslye Headland. The Acolyte is going to bomb for the same reasons The High Republic is bombing; No one wants to be preached to and that’s all these woke, blue hairs, want to do. I know that because they’ve told you as such.

The Force is Female. All of that sh*t with Pablo Hidalgo. The recent controversy of Justina Ireland telling people not to buy The High Republic if they don’t agree with her politics. The fact that Kathleen Kennedy has been trying to get Favreau fired for “sabotaging” her High Republic launch by redeeming Luke and galvanizing the entire fandom. The thing about this, though, is the fact that everything Kennedy has crated, is creatively bankrupt. Everything Favreau and Filoni have built with Mando, has been genuine, organic, and fun. Just to be clear, i actually like Brie Larson. I think she’s an excellent actress with very valid opinions. I think the sh*t she wants to make should be made. I don’t think she should co-opt a long running franchise with decades of lore and a ravenous fandom who are already on the outs with the current management of their beloved franchise. I can’t say i like Headland but i did adore her Netlfix show, Russian Doll. that sh*t was hilarious and dope. I don’t think her type of film making lends itself to Star Wars, however, for he same reason i don’t think Larson should have a show in the fandom either. Having opinions is fine. Installing those opinions in your writing is fine. Installing your opinions in an established property is not fine. You can do that, Back Panther was able to integrate that sh*t successfully, but they did it nuance. It didn’t get clumsy and ridiculous until the end. Kennedy’s writing group started with the awkward preaching. Those weren’t the droids yo were looking for, bro.

Ultimately, The High Republic is going to fail, as will the rest of Kennedy’s Star Wars legacy. Favreau is already working toward altering her most precious OC, Rey Palpatine. There are plans in the works to make her a Kenobi going forward, redeeming the most egregious of Darth Kennedy’s transgressions, something that wouldn’t even be necessary if they had followed the original treatments JJ left for them going forward. Rey Palpatine should have been Rey Skywalker. She should have been Luke’s daughter. She should have been trained by her pops and took that discipline into the final film where she and her cousin would have a proper reckoning. Rey should have been a proper character with an established legacy. Kennedy decided otherwise and in that hubris, she failed. She has failed, not because she is a Femanzi or has an eye toward activism or an agenda to push. Kennedy has failed because she decided to heavy-handedly force those politics down our throats with no nuance or grace, by slighting everything that came before with malicious intent, while bolstering her analogous creations with the worst kind of writing and non-existent development. Favreau succeeded by weaving a compelling tale, that mirrored the Hero’s tale which has been the bread-and-butter of a great Star Wars narrative, filled it with realized characters who became fast fan favorites, staunched in the lore that came before. He respected the genesis and built something great from it, while revering the stuff which came before. Kennedy thought she was bigger than the franchise. Favreau understands he is in service to it. That’s the difference, That’s why Mando is succeeding and The High Republic has been laid low.

[jflashandclash]

Tales from Mount Othrys

Birth of the Triple A Chimera III

Warning: Violence and disturbing imagery 

***

         If Pax were going to write a fanficiton of the events, [1] they would go something like this:

           The dastardly Romans prepare their attack. This is a thrown-together, last-minute operation, and their Centurion decides on a multi-faceted approach. One unit shall rush the front door and bust it down while two others break into window entrances, allowing them to flank the (incredibly sexy and stylish) villains inside.

         None expect when a scout taps Centurion Ari’s shoulder. “They’re opening the door.”

         Sure enough, the front door opens with a slow, methodical swing. It hangs ajar, seeming to beckon the Romans. There is no one around who could have pushed it. Smoke curls out, expanding and twisting into the tall grass with the steadiness of a field fire. The music cuts.

         “A witch’s nest,” one reminds them, making the others laugh nervously. Trickery. Mistwork. These are the common tools of a witch. Common pitiful plays at deception.

         But, there’s a foreboding rush that they feel in their bones, one that begins as a slight shudder and culminates into an audible, eerie, choked growl. It echoes out of the doors and pounds louder than the soldier’s heartbeats. “We await you, Romans,” it hisses, “Welcome to the gates of Tartarus.”

         One brave Roman stands, maybe to initiate the door rush, maybe to taunt back. Before words can leave his mouth, something thuds into the chinks in his shoulder armor. Instead of tumbling backwards from the force of the hit, he flings forward, screaming into the increasing smoke, until the open jaws of the door engulf him and he is no more.

         His screams muffle.

Then, silence.

         Their internals vibrate with the hum of a malicious laugh, one too powerful to belong to any mortal or demigod.

         That is how Pax hoped it looked, felt, and sounded. He hoped he wasn’t thinking, Shit. Shit. Shit, loud enough for the Romans to hear that too. Backing up a few minutes would help to explain the scene: before they started, he frantically slit holes into dracaena skin, making two serpentine masks. Though, more like the world’s grossest stocking masks.

         “We’re wearing masks,” Pax said, hoping his voice sounded firmer than it felt.[2]

         “No,” Axel growled. He finished putting trip wires around the most strategic windows and doors, and was now unrolling the band’s power cords.

         “They’re gunning for you, but they want to keep me alive. If we all wear masks, they won’t be able to readily identify us and have shoot-to-kill orders,” Pax said. He’d set to work on this idea after setting up the subwoofers with Alabaster’s enhancement charms. “Plus! If we have more than one of the same mask—” He held up the two bits of lizard body. “—then we can switch out which one we’re wearing to confuse them as to who is who and how many of us there are. Plus, plus, masks are cool and everyone should be stylish.” Even in death.

         Those words made Pax shiver.

         Alabaster tugged the camue blanket over himself. He hefted up the loaded antique harpoon. “I’m with Pax on this. Axel, you play sacrificial scapegoat on your own time. If you do so now, you’ll get all three of us killed.”

         Pax appreciated that Alabaster knew Axel’s weakness: logic. And mythological rights, but mostly logic.

         Axel swore and snatched the Numidian lion mask from a crate. He tied it on with some crate hemp.

         Pax could see how painful it was for Alabaster to hold back the words, That’s an antique, you savage! At least Axel was wearing something other than a sign that read Kill Me First.

         They started.

         After a second sweep to check their enemy’s position, Pax hunkered down by the door, Alabaster took preliminary aim with his harpoon gun, and Axel held the microphone up to his throat.

         Fog crept along the borders of the room, making it hard for Pax to see. Alabaster had dumped half his dry ice into shallow bins of water and cast an enhancement charm.

         Little enhancements, Alabaster kept saying. It was much easier to trick someone into seeing more of something than to trick them into seeing something that wasn’t originally there to begin with. “If we’re to be besieged, I want to keep my magical reservoirs high.”

         Pax pressed a wooden dowel rod against the base of the door. He undid the hinge, crawled to the side of the door, and flattened against the wall. Supposedly, Pax had the steadiest hands for this. However, with Pax’s heartbeat quivering more than the first time he saw Alabaster with his shirt off (locker rooms after Alabaster’s private shower mysteriously broke) he hoped the door wouldn’t look like it was having a seizure as it moved.

         Pax pushed the door open, also hoping no Romans had crept alongside the exterior and were waiting to play tag with a spear. He scrambled to prepare for Part II, detaching a line of power cord from his belt.

There were exposed water pipes on the wall beside him (originally for a garden hose, Pax assumed) and ones on the back wall, by Alabaster and Axel (for witchy things, like drowning test subjects). Axel had thread Alabaster’s makeshift-harpoon-attached-power-cord through the pipe in the back and Pax had thread it through the pipe at the front. Though not as good as a crank, this gave them the world most hackjob pulley.

         Alabaster uttered a word.

         Something popped gently. Pax knew it was a rune on Alabaster’s shirt, releasing a pocket of compressed air in a gentle breeze. The fog expanded and rolled outward. This temporarily cleared Alabaster’s line of sight.

         Alabaster had asked Axel to buy him time to aim, maybe ten seconds of intimidating chatter to distract the Romans--something easy for Pax but difficult for his concise brother. Pax had given Axel encouragement, Talk all funny-like. You know—like Prometheus when he gets drunk. Pax thought this had been far more helpful than Alabaster’s remind that humans were unsettled by frequencies too low to hear.

         Pax couldn’t hear his brother at first, but he felt it—the deep throttle from the subwoofers. With the auditorium enhancements set to full blast, the rumble made the building shake.

         Axel’s growl slipped to an audible octave. At home, Lapis had been disappointed Axel couldn’t roar with the power of a lion. Jaguars, and jaguar warriors, had clipped, throaty roars. With the ambiance, the choked noise was creepiness perfected.

         Pax held his breath. Maybe, just maybe, his brother and Alabaster were far more terrifying than fifteen Roman assassins.

“We await you, Romans. Welcome to the gates of Tartarus.”

Alabaster fired.

As soon as Pax felt the quiver in the power cord, he sprinted. This was an imperfect pulley system, but this was the closest they could come to dragging a Roman into the building smoothly. (If they just tugged at the harpoon’s rope directly, the Roman would come in jerky, awkward hops. Cool in a zombie movie. Not cool when Romans might notice and cut the cord.) Pax got two steps before the cord went taut.

Someone screamed.

Pax tried not to think about the other end of this rope protruding someone’s skin. He tried to think of warmer things, like chasing Lou Ellen’s cat Sphi—oh right. Instead, he did think about the other end in a Roman—the one who shot Sphinx.

Axel raced with the other side of the pulley. As the Pax brothers ran with the pulley cord, Pax towards the back wall, Axel towards the front, a Roman skidded, screaming, into the building.[3]

Once the squeal of armor on concrete and shrieking were in the fog, Axel pounced.

The Roman didn’t stand a chance. By the time Pax was close enough to make out their forms, Axel’s bicep and forearm were pinching the Roman’s neck. His legs hooked the Roman’s arms in a wrestler move. The Roman could only thrash.

“I’m sorry.” Alabaster’s voice was wispy with panic. “I couldn’t get a clear line on Ari—”

They wanted Ari. The operation might fall apart without a leader. This was just a soldier, one none of them recognized as his struggles faded and his eyes rolled up into his head. From the glare of orange over his armor, this must have been one of the teenagers that cut the power and phones. Not the guy who shot Sphinx and talked about mounting Axel’s head on a wall.

“Ajax, look away,” Axel growled.

Pax wouldn’t, tilting his head. They needed to move onto the next phase of the plan—

Alabaster’s hands settled over Pax’s face, covering his eyes and making him flinch. If he didn’t recognize the musky spices, Pax might have thought everything was over.

Something cracked.

Neither Alabaster nor Axel appreciated that the sound of someone’s neck breaking was enough for a trauma recipe. No vision necessary.

When Alabaster removed his hands, Axel was already disposing the body into one of the crates.

Pax decided he would confront that sight and sound later, like in his nightmares. For now, he had to focus.

This was the largest part of the gamble. Some Romans may have broken rank to save their comrade. While this would have split the main attack force, the three of them couldn’t handle a charge. With any luck, the Romans may have scattered in fear, buying more time. Reorganization could take awhile. That’s what they wanted: the Romans to pause. They only needed, at this point, twenty to thirty minutes for Jack and Flynn to show up. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Pax knew his surrogate parents. It would be enough. It had to be.

The waiting was eerie.

“Fourteen left,” Axel hissed, “Move.” He shoved Alabaster and Pax into action.

Alabaster disappeared into the fog. Pax knew what he was supposed to be doing—making more fog and securing the northern windows. Keep it creepy with enough dry ice and Mist to distort vision but not enough that they’d run out of supplies.

Pax’s job was to secure the windows in the other, southern room. This should have been done first, but they wanted to make sure the Romans didn’t charge. It wouldn’t matter if they secured some windows if the Romans busted in part-way through their efforts. In a fun and fancy free world where the Romans were dumb enough to all come through one entrance, Alabaster could kill them with explosives, but the Romans would likely come from multiple angles.

Pax worked quickly. He scattered some of his anti-hex jacks under one window. He crouched along the wall until he found the next one. There, he carefully dispersed some marbles, making sure none rolled out to trip the wrong people. The next two were much less playful: broken glass from the trash can and a few crate boards with nails poking upward.

Before leaving this room and blocking the door to the center, Pax crouched under a window and tilted his mirror out.

A Roman crouched on the other side of the wall, her sword drawn.

Pax withdrew his mirror before she could catch any reflected light from the surface.

He swallowed, his heartbeat pounding in his head. He leaned against a crate near the window. Were there soldiers outside every window? If there were, what were they waiting for?    

A voice made Pax jump. If he had to guess, there was someone with a loudspeaker outside the front door. Pax crept back to the central room to hear the girl.

“We have you surrounded. We know there are only three of you in there.” It was the same commanding voice Pax heard earlier: Centurion Ari. Pax feared his guilt-stupid brother would offer himself as an apology for killing her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Is someone automatically an ex in death or are you doomed to be cheating on them in any sequential relationships after? Pax swallowed the thought away, hoping he never found out.

The subwoofers kicked on with a vibrating hum. By the time Pax found his brother in the fog, there was a pile of makeshift weapons at Axel’s feet. Axel lifted the lion mask enough to speak into the mic. “Do you?” He lowered his voice an octave to that stage-gargle. “Why not only one?”

Pax exhaled in relief. Taunting the Romans might not have been wise, but it was better than, I’ll be your shooting practice this week.

         He waited to see the red light turn off on the mic. “They’re under the windows and in position to storm.” Pax reported, “What are they waiting for?” With the lack of music and no response from the Romans, his whisper felt deafening.

“If I were them, reinforcements. A breaching charge. A barricade breaker. They probably already positioned those troops before they realized we knew about them and before they realized we had a ranged weapon.” He nudged the harpoon gun at his feet. Axel must have dug the harpoon out of the dead soldier’s chest to reload it. Through the wisps of fog, Pax thought there might be dark smears on the floor. Pax wanted to be horrified. He just felt numb. His brain hadn’t gotten past the sound of that guy’s neck snapping.

Axel continued with the smoothness of a recording, “They either want to hold position or withdraw to a safe distance. Alabaster heard them tampering with the door in the back, so they know it’s barricaded. They know there are three of us: one to cover either of the side rooms and one to cover the front entrance. No reason for Ari to be reckless or rush when they think they can get reinforcements faster than we can. All they need is one more entrance—blowing out the back door or knocking down a wall—and they can flank us.”

“And they won’t try to smoke us out for now because it would be too easy to catch the fields on fire, and good Romans listen to Smoky the Bear,” Pax grumbled. They should remember that: the Romans were from California after all.

“The Northern windows are all covered.” Alabaster sounded calmer and more calculated than he had earlier. His figure loomed in the fog with massive horns. Alabaster had donned pieces of one of his lab specimen, that way he could put decoy pieces on boards. “If we—”

Axel’s hand shot up in curt gesture of silence.

Alabaster quieted.

Pax strained to listen.

“No…” Axel mumbled. Although Pax could only see the dead stare of the lion mask, he could hear the horror of a plan gone wrong. It was a very specific mood for his brother.

Very subtly, under the hiss of the expanding dry ice and the rustling of grass outside the front door, there was a beautiful hum. The tune followed something from Pax’s childhood, something about going to the circus, something that should have been calming.

Nausea rocked Pax’s stomach. The words were out of his mouth before Axel could verbalize their mistake. “Jack doesn’t know that we’re surrounded!”

Axel’s knuckles went white from clutching the microphone too tight. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This could have been a trap for him all along. If they knew we’d be out here, there’s no reason they wouldn’t know—we need to distract them. Ajax, you said there are Roman soldiers outside the windows.” Axel’s tone altered from panic to determination. “Drag one inside, disable them, retreat to this room, and barricade the Southern door. Alabaster—”

“No,” Alabaster snarled. “Are you trying to make them attack us? Axel—”

“We’ll have reinforcements soon—”

“We’ll only have Jack for sure. Jack is not a reinforce—”

Axel dropped a hand towards Pax, signaling him to head out despite Alabaster’s protests. Jack’s hum was growing louder and there was no way the Romans could miss it.

“Ajax, don’t try to be a hero. One Roman. Then come back her to hide.” Axel said, “If you can’t do it safely, throw something at them. Your safety—”

Comes first. But Pax wasn’t about to let a second surrogate parent die protecting him.

“Cowards for life.” Pax knew Axel couldn’t hear him. The red light came on for the microphone.

Axel dropped his voice to that gargly growl, “Romans, you test my patience—”

“Idiot!” Alabaster hissed. Pax could only hope his insult didn’t pick up on the mic. Something snagged Pax’s collar. He really didn’t want to pressure-point Alabaster’s wrist, but was about to.

“—We know where you are—”

Alabaster shoved a vial into Pax’s hand. “Use this to dart them. Not a single nick on yourself, understand?”

“—We smell you, little Romans. Shall we begin to devour you?”

Alabaster didn’t wait for an affirmation. He vanished into the fog, hopefully to attack Romans from the Northern windows.

Pax understood the importance of timing for this.

Jack must have been close. Maybe close enough that they were too late. Axel wanted to inspire fear, but hopefully evoke enough rage to lure the Romans in. Pax and Alabaster should attack as soon as Axel was done baiting them. Hopefully, Jack had heard and would realize what they were doing.

Pax swallowed at the thought of Romans beating Jack to death, only captured and killed because he wanted to take “his boys” to the circus.

Why is it always the circus? Pax knew he was going to develop an unhealthy phobia of the circus and it would have nothing to do with clowns. He rather liked clowns and their adventurous fashion statements.

In the side room, the afternoon light and fog made the windows into glowing blobs. Pax clutched the PVC pipe from the other room. It should work as a dart gun. He wished he had more time to practice. Knowing how this day was going, he would inhale too deep and suck the dart back into his mouth.

He scurried to the window with a box beside it, careful to avoid the marbles he’d set. If I were Roman, what would scare me? Invading barbarians? Slave rebellions? Bad infrastructure? Spartans having a cooler logo? Pax remembered something his dad had once done to an “unreliable” worker. A lump formed in his throat. Could he do that to someone?

What would they do to Jack if he couldn��t? What would they do to his crush and brother if he couldn’t get their attention?

There was more exposed piping overhead. Thank the gods for lazy contractors. Pax removed a length of power cable from his belt,  yanked off his shoe, and tied it to the end. One shot. If he missed and made a clang, this could alert the Romans to his presence.

Pax threw.

The shoe sailed up and over the pipe before swinging back down. The cable caught on the pipe. The shoe dangled and Pax snatched it out of the air.

He swallowed, untying the shoe and jamming it back on his foot. He tied a loop at one end.

He was ready, right? This is what had to happen. Pax crept onto the box, the loop and loose cord in one hand and the dartgun in the other. Sure enough, the Roman was still under the window, at her post. From a side glance, there were, indeed, Romans under each window.

Still, she must have been terrified.

“I can’t wait to mount a lion’s head on my wall.” Pax focused on that and the way Sphinx’s body crumbled. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening as he stood on the box, keeping his body flat to the wall.

Pax withdrew the vial Alabaster gave him from his pocket. He carefully balanced the cables, the PVC pipe, and vial in one hand to drip one of his darts. Mysterious substances from a witch? Hadn’t led him astray so far. Maybe it would turn the enemy into weasels. But, if Alabaster had some weasel-bombs, he likely would have changed all of them so they could escape.

In the distance, someone shouted. Pax couldn’t tell if Alabaster had attacked from his windows or if the Romans had found and skewered Jack.

The soldiers near him had looked away from Pax’s position, allowing him to lean forward.

Pax aimed his dartgun at the soldier one window down. The line of white piping trembled as he released a puff of air.

The dart feathers seemed to sprout from the Roman’s neck.

Thirteen Romans.

Pax didn’t wait to see if the Roman collapsed or swatted it away like a Jurassic mosquito. While the girl under his window was distracted, he tossed the loop over her head—

—grabbed as high on the other end of the cord—

—and jumped off his crate.

The line of cable went taut. He heard a choked noise and the scrape of metal against concrete: her armor sliding up the side of the building.

No snaps, not like the boy whose neck broke.

Pax’s feet didn’t reach the floor like he’d thought. Instead, he felt the cord wind back towards the Roman. Relief almost made him cry—Pax, with his glorious ninety pounds, was too light to drag this armored girl fully off the ground. He let go. His feet hit the floor at same time her armor clanged down. There was a fit of choking and gasps. Pax laughed hysterically. Her neck must not have broken either. She could breath and might be okay.

He could cross “executioner” off in his Prospective Jobs list. Solid future battle plan: never try to hang someone again. Definitely not something he was a fan of.

The furthest window shattered, crushing his reprieve. Pax must have left that one closed. It was the one with the—

Someone screamed when they stepped onto a nail and—from the followup noise—tripped on a marble while trying to recover. It would have been funny if Pax didn’t realize they now inside with him.

Eleven and a half Romans if we count the dude who can no longer walk.

The Romans were on the offensive.

Pax scrambled for the central room. The fog was thick; they shouldn’t be able to see him.

Another footfall by the windows—this one calculated and calm. There was no accompanied scream. Another Roman must be inside, this one uninjured. So, at least two of them, less than ten feet from Pax. As Pax crept, the blood pounded in his veins. Each ragged breath felt too loud. His makeshift reptilian mask reeked of preservatives and made it hard to gulp down the air.

He was halfway to the door when one of their footfalls quickened to a sprint. “Heat signature. On your right, 25 degrees. Only one.”

They know. They know it’s just me.

Of course they would have their own child of Vulcan with heat sensors. Mercedes would have thought of that. Pax hadn’t.

Pax ran for the door, not caring that his footsteps echoed in line with his pursuers. All he had to do was reach the central room, slam the door, and bar it, assuming Alabaster had done the same on the other side of the building, and that the back door hadn’t been breached, and that the front door—

Pax almost ran into the doorframe; the fog blinded him until the last second. He turned and fumbled for the door, gripping the knob to slam it shu—

The door never latched. Someone ploughed into it, forcing the wood to reverse right into Pax. His feet lost traction. Pax tumbled backwards, slapping his hand behind him to break his fall.

His entrance was breached. He messed up big time. I always told Axel I’d be the death of him. An imperial gold sword glowed in the fog above his head. “But, the information broker!” Pax wanted to say; the words choked in his mouth. There wasn’t enough time to block. All he could do was cower as the blade came down.

 ***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! And thank you for your patience with how long this took to come out. It didn’t get a proper editing, so I hope there aren’t too many mistakes! Stay tuned next week!

[1] And not make Jack write them.

[2] The first rendition of this story was written WAY before COVID started. Now, each time I read this, “And so are we.”

[3] Did anyone come out of this pulley situation not confused? Pax and Axel were confused. The Roman is confused. The author is staring at his diagram of the building going, “Omgs, how am I suppose to convey this with words?!”

[madison02me]

Our Greatest Adventure Yet

A prequel to my other fic, Reunited. Hope you guys like 

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524296

Reunited link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453522

Summary: It was a normal day for Eugene. He was hungry and had no money. Well, it looked like it was that time again.

Time for some pickpocketing.

He never thought that it would be the day that he would meet his future parents, let alone them be two guys.

Eugene was hungry. No, hungry wasn't the right word. He was utterly starving. But had already had breakfast at the orphanage, if you could call the slop they serve breakfast. He knew that the staff who worked there tried the hardest they could to feed everyone, but they couldn't make something at least edible?

Not to mention that he had given half of his share of food to one of the younger kids because one of the bigger bullies had stolen his. He would have got it back for the kid if the bully hadn't already scarfed it down like the pig he was, so he gave away half his own and made up an excuse of not being hungry. The look on the little guy's made him feel good inside but it did nothing to quell his growling stomach. Well, looks like it's that time again.

Time to do some pickpocketing.

Eugene got up from his sitting position against the stone wall of the orphanage and let his face break into a small grin. Eugene loved the rush of pickpocketing, he had never been caught, even on his first try. Though it might have had something to do with the fact that the guy was drunk...and asleep but it didn't matter to Eugene. To him, he was living out the life of his Hero Flynn Rider. A dashing swashbuckler who had an abundance of thrilling adventures wherever he went and besides it wasn't like the money was going to be put to waste. He just needed enough to buy an apple or something which was 2 coins at most and if he so happened to grab more than two coins, why not buy some more food for some of the other kids?

Eugene stuck his hands in pockets and walked down an almost hidden alleyway that would lead to the main market place; where there were so many people that going unnoticed was almost too easy. But when he turned a corner he quickly jumped back behind and pressed his body against the cool brick wall, he waited before peeking around the corner to get a better look at what made him jump back, he saw that there were already two men with their backs facing Eugene near the exit of the ally who stood behind some large crates before they quickly ducked them as the sound of people running drew near. He didn't have time to think before he saw some guards running past the ally but one came back and looked down, Eugene hid behind the wall as he held his breath, hoping that the guard would just move on.

After a few moments of silence, he heard a deep voice in an accent he didn't reorganise from around the corner. "Ok, I think they're gone." He heard another voice let out a relieved sigh before speaking. "That was too close..."

"Don't be so dramatic Tulio, we got away and with the gold no less!" The first voice piped up once again.

"Yeah, which we would have more than if you hadn't distracted me."

"What are you talking about? The deal was that I would play and you would gamble, you were the one who got caught with those dice of yours. I was smart enough to put all my earnings in my bag, while you scrambled to get what you could."

"Don't you dare act innocent, you distracted me with those eyes again."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. What about my eyes detracts you?~"

"Y-You, you know exactly what they do to me..."

"Well, elaborate Darling, I'm not a mind reader~."

"M-Miguel, Stop. We'll get caught."

"No one can see us, you worry too much."

Eugene was enraptured by the two men's conversation, it went from bickering to flirting almost no time. It was a common occurrence for Eugene to see people flirting, hugging or even kissing in the streets but has never been two men before. Nuns come to the orphanage and talk to all the kids there about what they should do if they wanted to go to heaven, Eugene doesn't actually believe in any of that stuff but he would never tell the Nun's that, but one thing that was always very strongly against was what the Nun's called Homosexuality. It was a wired lecture and lots of the little kids couldn't even say the word but they explained as 'To love a man love another man as they should love a woman is a sin, an abomination, they have the devils blood in them and they are all pure evil'. Eugene wasn't sure if that was true, he always thought that Love was a good thing and it couldn't be wrong no matter what.

The more he thought about it, the more curious he got. So he slowly poked his head around the corner before turning back at almost lightning speed, his face scarlet red. One of the men, who was wearing a red shirt and had golden blond hair was holding the other man, who had dark hair and a blue shirt up against one of the crates, with their arms warped around each other and one of the dark-haired man's legs were loosely wrapped around the blond's waist. They were clearly kissing. Eugene was a little grossed out at first then he thought about the conversation that the men had just had, they mentioned they had Gold, a whole bag of it.

Eugene had no idea where they got the money but they wouldn't notice a few coins missing would they? Sneaking a peek at the two, they were still very preoccupied with each other but another thing caught his attention, a bag that was hanging off the blonde man's shoulder and he could just see a glint of something shiny. 'Jackpot!' Eugene thought in his head.

It wouldn't be too hard to sneak up, get a handful of coins and then sneak away and/or run away. At least that's what Eugene thought.

Eugene then began to creep forward on his tiptoes, keeping an eye on the two men. He smiled a little smugly as he noticed that the two individuals were too invested in each other to notice anything going on around them, he slowly reached up for the bag and grabbed as many of the small coins in his little fist as he could, hoping that the slight clinking noise of the gold wouldn't draw their attention as he pulled his had back gradually.

Eugene thought that he was in the clear, that he had committed the perfect crime, he and the other kids would be eating good tonight!

... That was until he felt a sturdy grip on his wrist.

Eugene squealed in fright and he looked up to see both of the men had stopped and now we're currently standing over him, looking down at him. "What do you think you're doing kid?" The one with intense blue eyes asked as he kept a firm grip on Eugene's wrist.

The coins dropped from Eugene's hand as he felt his face grow hot and his eyes stung as fresh tears weld up in them. Eugene was at a loss of what to do, he had never been caught before. He had overheard what people did to thieves, he heard that they cut their hands off. He tried weakly to pull his arm free but he knew it was no use, he was a goner.

Eugene let out a sob as he pleaded, "Please don't cut my hands off. I'm sorry, I'll never do it again. Please, don't hurt me." Eugene cried his little heart out, he was stupid to think that he could steal from these too, he knew it was risky but he tried anyway, now he was going to pay for it.

He was no Flynn Rider, he was just a dumb kid...

"Cut your hands off? That's a little extreme don't you think? Oh come on now, don't cry. We're sorry we scared you." Eugene was more than surprised when he heard the comforting voice and a hand his shoulder. He looked up to see grass-green eyes, full of warmth.

The same man was crouched to Eugene's level, he then reached his other hand up. Eugene flinched back and closed his eyes, expecting a slap to the face but what he got instead was a slightly callused hand brushing the tears from his cheeks When the man pulled his hand back Eugene rubbed his eyes against his wrist to clear his vision and look up at the two men. Now that his vision was clear in the men were right in front of him, he could get a good look at the men who had caught him.

The one in front of him was average height, broad-shouldered, and handsome, with shoulder-length, golden-blonde hair and green eyes. He had a muscular and toned body. He had a beard that seemed to be darker than his blonde hair. His outfit consisted of his a red loose tunic, khaki pants and brown shoes. He looked somewhere between his late 20s or early 30s.

"What's your name kid?" The man who still had a group on Eugene's wrist asked. Eugene then looked the other male up and down.

The other man was tall and slender with blue eyes. He had long, wavy black hair, tied back with a purple ribbon in a low ponytail, and a goatee. He wore a blue collared long-sleeved shirt under a brown vest, green pant's with a black belt with a golden buckle on a black belt, and brown shoes. The man appeared to be in his mid-20s to early 30s.

"U-uh, um... E-Eugene... My name is Eugene." Eugene answered. "Y-your not gonna cut my hands off?"

The black-haired man rolled his eyes, letting go of Eugen's arm and proceeded to talk with his hands. "Kid, that just something the church tell you to get you to behave. No one cuts off hands any more. The worst you will get if your caught stealing is either your killed or you get a beating, it depends on who you steal from and what you steal."

The blond then stood up and swatted the other. "Tulio! Don't tell him that!"

"Well, do you want me to be honest or do you want me to lie to the kid, he needs to learn now or he'll get himself hurt or worse."

"You could have said it a little better, he's just a child."

"So were we when we set off on our own. We were lucky, he might not be.

Eugene again watched the two argue, "Wh-What are your names'?" Eugene wanted to know who these men were and what they planned to do with him.

The two ceased their fighting and once again looked down at him.

"Oh right, well I am Miguel and this is Tulio." The blonde- no, Miguel said as he gestured to himself and then Tulio.

"... Really?" Eugene asked.

"Huh?" Tulio replied. "Yeah, that's our names. What about them?"

"Those names are wired and what up with your voices, why do you guys sound like that?"

"Oh! Well, you see we're from Spain. Ever heard of Spain?" Miguel said as he leaned down slightly. Eugene shook his head, he didn't know much about the world outside of Corona. "Well, in Spain we speak a different language called Spanish, that is why we have these strange accents."

"Our names are Spanish too. Our names are considered common there, to use your names is weird, what kind of name is Eugene anyway?," Tulio followed along with the conversation, only to get another swot from Miguel. "What? Don't tell me it doesn't sound weird to you?"

Eugene wanted to be offended but he didn't like his name that much so he agreed with Tulio.

"No, you're right, it's a dumb name anyway. If I could I'd change it. to something cooler" Eugene said as he stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking some gravel around.

The two men exchanged a look before Tulio let out an almost inaudible sigh and leaned down to Eugene's level, "Well, why don't you?"

At the question, the boy perked his head up. "Huh?"

"If you could have any name, any name at all, what would it be?"

Eugene didn't even need to think. "Flynn Rider!"

Tulio arched an eyebrow, "Flynn Rider? Like the guy in the book?"

Eugene was surprised that Tulio knew of his favourite book of all time. "Yeah, him! He's my favourite character of all time! I want to be just like him. I just wish I could read the book myself, I always have to ask someone else to."

"What? You can't read? Haven't your parents taught you how to yet?"

Eugene fell silent and his gaze found the ground refusing to look the dark-haired male in the eye. For a few moments, there was utter stillness, even the sounds of the nearby market couldn't break through the silent ally.

"... You're not out living on the streets are you kid?" Tulio said in a slow but soft tone. Eugene shook his head and pointed at the opposite entrance of the ally.

"No, I live in that orphanage over there. But they don't have the time to teach anyone to read, there just too many."

Miguel, who had remained quiet for most of the conversation suddenly sprang forward, wrapping an arm around Tulio shoulder.

"Tulio could teach you! He taught me how to, so you should be no problem." The blond said with a huge grin on his face, not understanding the impact of the statement he had made.

"Uh, no, no, no! Miguel, we've talked about this. The little voice, remember?" Tulio said as he stepped back, removing Miguel's arm from his shoulder, making frantic hand movements as he talked, "Come on, I know you have one, you just never listen to it. What is it saying right now?

The blonde paused, looked thoughtful for a few moments before speaking, "You're right. We should bond first, you like ice cream, Eugene?"

At the very mention of ice cream, Eugene was willing to accept the wired situation that he had been up into, he had never had ice cream before but he had heard about it from other kids.

"I don't know but I wanna try some!" He didn't know how the treated tasted but he somehow knew that he would love it.

"Miguel, oh dios mio. No podemos tomar este niño por helado, ¡no eran sus padres!" Tulio said as he grabbed onto Miguel sleave, stopping him in his tracks.

Eugene's face melted from exhilarated to deeply confused, he couldn't understand a word that Tulio was saying. This must have been how they talk where they came from.

"Bueno, si no quieres helado, está bien, pero no lo arruines. Puede ser el único regalo que recibirá." Migule fired back as he glanced to Eugene then back to his partner. There was a breaif silence before Tulio let out an annoyed sigh. "Bien, bien... Just stop with the face. Come on kid, let's get this over with."

Eugene watched the man start to walk away before stopping at the exit to the ally before looking both left and right, Tulio was probably looking for any guards that would still be patrolling the area. "It's clear, now come on before we get caught again."

Eugene didn't move a muscle, he just looked up at Miguel, who was staring down at him. "What's the matter? Don't you want any ice cream?"

Eugene was embarrassed about what he was about to ask, "Can I hold your hand?... Please?" Eugene didn't want to get separated from the two men and the market was always super crowded.

Eugene could have sworn that he saw Miguel's eyes well up before he smiled the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "Why of course, but I can do better!" Eugene didn't have an opportunity to ask what he meant before he was being swept off of the ground by Miguel's strong hands. He let out a screech of shock that moulded into fits of laughter as he was lifted onto the blond man's shoulders.

Tulio could only watch as his partner lifted the little boy onto his shoulders, his face breaking out into a fond smile as he watched the two. He knew that Miguel had a huge soft spot for children, especially the poor ones since he grew up in that environment. Tulio was not as fond of children as Miguel was but he didn't discourage Miguel's enthusiasm or stop him, he knew that Miguel had always wanted children of his own, sometimes he would spend whole days just talking about what he would do if he and Tulio had one, what they would look like, what he would teach them and who they might grow up to be... But they both knew that could never have one.

Tulio had confessed to Miguel before that he always felt a little guilty for not being able to give him the family he always wanted, Miguel comforted him and told him that he would always be enough for him no matter what, that he was the only family that he needed. It was an incredibly emotional night for both of them, Tulio never forgot his words but he also never failed to notice how Miguel would look at young children with their parents without longing who look in his eye.

Maybe having the little brat around be good for both of them.

"Hey, come on you two! We only have so much daylight left," he called to them "The last one there's a Pendejo!" he yelled to them before he took off running.

"Oh no, you don't!" Miguel called after the taller man as he also took off running after Tulio.

"Yeah! Come on Miguel, let's get him!" Eugene said as he leaned down to the one man's ear. "What's a Pendejo?"

Miguel cringed a little, "Uh, you don't need to know..."

----- Eugene was 100% positive this has been the best day of his life. Tulio was surprisingly fast I knew she was a little disappointed when he found out that he had beaten them to the Ice Cream cart that was parked in the middle of the market but it was OK since Tulio gave him the chance to pick a flavour first. There were so many flavours that Eugene didn't know what to choose before he settled on one named 'Rocky Road'. Miguel chose strawberry and Tulio chose blueberry.

While they were enjoying their frozen treats, Miguel insisted on telling him a story. A story in which he and Tulio were accidentally mistaken for God's in a legendary city made of gold. Eugene was hanging on every word that the blonde said, he had heard of the mythical city of El Dorado but he never thought it was real. He said he wanted to find himself but Tulio told him not to bother, as they had sealed the entrance to keep away greedy people who only wanted to destroy it, Eugene was a bit disappointed that he missed out on an amazing adventure but the way that Miguel told it to him, it was like he was there the whole time.

They also talked about a woman named Chel, how she had helped them get through the situation that they had put themselves into you without being caught and sacrificed by the evil Tzekel-Kan, who also led the greedy people back to his home, thinking they were the gods that he was looking for. They spoke very fondly of Chel, how they were the Three Amigos for almost a year until they came across a great Empire with a young emperor took an interest in her and she took interest in him. The three parted ways after her and the emperor got married, he could tell that they miss her very much and that she means a lot to the two. Eugene wishes he could have met her, been with them on their amazing adventures.

After the story was done, Eugene wanted to know more about the two men. He learnt that the reason the two had been hiding in the ally in the first place, was because they had been caught gambling in the streets with loaded dice, they had performed a fake duel, to distract the crowd while they got close enough away to run and had ducked into the alley to hide.

It was also then that Miguel pulled out a strange instrument that Eugene had never seen before, Miguel called it a mandolin, a very popular instrument in Spain where he came from. He then started to play it, it was like nothing Eugene had ever heard before. It started softly before the tune got more upbeat and he started to dance to his music, Eugene then followed, it took a little convincing but Tulio eventually danced with them as well. He danced differently, it was mostly made up of hand clapping, percussive footwork, intricate hand, arm, and body movements. Eugene tried to follow to Tulio's example but he just ended up tripping on its own feet, he expected the dark-haired man to laugh at him but he just picked him up and showed him the moves; he wasn't perfect but at least he didn't trip up anymore.

It wasn't until he noticed that it was getting dark that he even thought of going back to the orphanage. Eugene didn't want too but he knew that he would get in trouble if he didn't.

"It's getting kind of dark, I should be getting back now..." Eugene said as the three of them walked through the streets of Corona. Eugene could tell by the looks on the two men's faces that they too were apprehensive and disappointed to hear this.

"Yeah, it does seem to be getting kind of late. We'll walk you back, things can get pretty dangerous on the streets at night kid, it's never safe to go alone." Tulio said as he absentmindedly grabbed the young boy's hand, keeping it in a soft but firm grip.

"Did you have fun today?" Miguel asked as he gently ruffled Eugene's hair before grabbing his other hand.

"Oh yeah! Today has been the best day of my life! I don't think anything could make it better, you guys are fun. I wish I could hang out with you guys all the time, you're not like any of the other adults around here. They always look at me either with disgust or like they're sorry for me. I don't want them to feel sorry for me, if they feel so sorry for me why don't they help me or any of the other kids at the orphanage? I just don't understand the world..." Eugene ranted as the three of them strolled down a familiar alleyway.

The two older men stayed quiet while they listened to the child, they understood exactly what he meant.

"I'm sorry son, I wish the world was simpler, I really do. But unfortunately, there's nothing you can do about it, sometimes to make it in this world you have to do things that you don't want to or do things that aren't technically legal." Miguel said softly as he rubbed Eugene's hand with his thumb.

"That's what I and Miguel do have to do, being criminals is no fun, conning people is dangerous and we always have to worry about people finding out that we're together. Plain and simple kid, the world sucks. But if you find people that truly care about you, people that would do anything for you to keep you safe and happy, then the world doesn't seem so bad sometimes." Tulio said in an earnest honest voice as he gripped Eugene's hand a little tighter.

"...I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." It was the only thing that Eugene could think to say as he listened to the wise word of two people beaten down by the world but just kept getting back up because they had each other to lean on.

Eugene hoped that one day he could have a relationship like the two men before him.

The three of them soon stopped at the entrance to the orphanage, none of them made an effort to let go of each other. Miguel was the first one to make a move but he did not let go of the child's hand, he leaned down on one leg and looked Eugene in the eyes.

"Here," Miguel said as he brought up a small leather pouch and held it out to Eugene. "we want you to have this." Eugene and slowly let go of the blonde hand and took the pouch, he didn't even have to look inside of it to know that it was full of coins. "I don't understand, why are you giving this to me?" Eugene asked in a small hesitant tone, this had to be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. Miguel did not answer him, he did not need to answer as he felt Eugene already knew why.

Eugene could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He then felt a hand on his shoulder, you looked up to see to that Tulio had also leaned down, with a gaze full of warmth. "Hey kid, if you really want, I can teach you to read." It was then that Eugene remembered that there was the whole reason that he had gone with the two men in the first place, he had completely forgotten.

"Really? Do you promise?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep his composure.

"I promise next time we meet I'll teach you to read that book. If you promise to bring it to me." Tulio said in a lightly teasing tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. I won't forget I swear!" Eugene said slightly excited, learning to read never really appealed to him before but if he was going to be taught by Tulio then he would be glad to.

"Would you like to see us tomorrow? Same time early morning?" Miguel questioned. Like he even needed to ask.

"Yeah! Can we meet in the alleyway? I'll bring the book and everything." Eugene just couldn't explain why he felt such a connection with these two men that he had known for less than 24-hours.

"Well then, that's settled. We'll see you tomorrow Eugene, sweet dreams." Migule said as he brought the child in for a hug, Eugene didn't hesitate to hug the blond man back. When he let go he quickly turned and hugged Tulio, who hesitated somewhat out of shock before hugging him back.

The hug lasted about a minute before Eugene pulled back and walked up the steps of the orphanage, as he opened the door to walk inside he looked back to find the two men with their arms around each other waving goodbye at him, it made Eugene's heart swell and he waved back at Miguel and Tulio before shutting the door.

[thederailedtrain]

The Mark of Oblivion: Home [Four]

Finding a giant, animate stone statue was, as it turned out, not very difficult. Particularly not when Kira already knew where it was and where it was heading. In that altered state she hadn’t just seen the statue, she’d seen through it, felt how it felt...if it could actually feel.

More importantly, she saw what it saw. There were docks, and shipping containers, and boats. Kira wasn’t familiar with the dockyards themselves, but she was confident it wouldn’t matter.

“Do you know where it is?” Cedric asked. Kira wasn’t keen on the skeptical tone in his voice.

“Sort of?” Kira said slowly. “I used the telluric current to, I dunno, put a tracker on it?”

“You manipulated the telluric currents?” Salazar asked, standing. There was a strange look on his face that Kira couldn’t quite read.

She just shrugged and began leading them towards the back of the warehouse. “I guess. I was kinda making things up as I went along,” Kira explained as they walked. “It’s looking for something. No idea what. Hopefully it won’t be too hard to spot.”

While Kira couldn’t see Salazar and Cedric, she could feel them exchanging looks behind her back. Whatever, she was on a mission. There was a eight-foot tall animated statue on the loose.

Outside, Kira couldn’t help but blink in surprise. She was just here, among the shipping crates and cranes. The only problem was that there weren’t any directional landmarks in the dockyard. Worse; with the rings on she couldn’t sense her way out of a wet paper bag.

“Dammit,” Kira hissed. She tried looking around, but the crates obscured her vision. “Sorry, guys. I thought I’d still be able to sense it, but-”

“No, I can definitely sense it,” Salazar spoke up. Kira turned to him, but his gaze was fixed intently on some point in the distance.

That made sense. Out of the other three, Salazar was the most familiar with telluric currents. He took over the search, leading them through the maze of crates.

After some running, Lix let out a surprised, “Oh! I think I can sense it too.”

So they really were getting closer. Kira tried her hardest, but all she felt were the presences of the Otherworlders beside her. This would be incredibly embarrassing if she wasn’t the one who created the tracking spell in the first place. Good thing she didn’t have to admit that out loud.

Kira heard it before she could sense it. What she first assumed was another part of the soundscape - the sounds of the river on one side and bustling downtown traffic noise on the other - didn’t quite seem to fit.

Several seconds later, Kira realized why she recognized it. This was the same scream she heard from the statue just minutes ago. It almost sounded like a human scream, but there was something off...It never ended. The statue wasn’t living, so it didn’t need to breathe. It just kept letting out one long roar of rage without needing to stop.

“It should be right around this corner-” Salazar said as he took the next turn. Then he stopped short and it didn’t take long to figure out why. Watching a giant stone statue wildly beat at the air was pretty intimidating.

More surprising was the reason. As a neutral mage, Kira was always surprised when her spells took visible form. The telluric currents were wrapped in rings around the thing’s shoulders, just like she pictured. It glowed orange, bands of energy forming loops and peeling off at random intervals, like the surface of the sun, or Kira whenever she had a meltdown.

The statue was so busy thrashing at the magic it didn’t notice the group’s arrival. It just stood there, swatting uselessly at the magic, like watching a cat go after a penlight. Kira couldn’t help but laugh, from both pride and the surprising amount of humor in the situation.

Unfortunately, it was her laugh that finally got the thing’s attention. Its head swiveled in their direction, singular scream suddenly cut short. “Oh, shit,” Kira managed before the thing started heading right for them.

“Watan!” It shouted. Because of course.

Kira took a step back and was fully prepared to pivot when the statue froze mid-step. Cedric and Lix also stopped their sudden retreats. She watched telluric energy around the statue constrict, holding it in place.

When she turned to the side, she found Salazar with an arm outstretched, fingers clenched in a fist. “Just because I’m no longer the Guardian of Mixba’al doesn’t mean I no longer know how to control telluric energy,” he smirked. The smirk wavered as the creature struggled against his bindings. “It would certainly make it easier, though.”

No, shit, Kira thought. She could hear the tension in his voice. If she was going to do something, she needed to do it fast.

The answer was so simple and Kira was embarrassed she didn’t think of it sooner. Wasn’t her specialty neutral magic? She’d seen into the core of the statue’s magical essence when she tracked it down. She knew exactly how it was constructed. Breaking down the enchantment would be a breeze.

Placing her palms together, Kira drew on that magic deep within herself. The part of the magic that was intrinsically her. In the blink of an eye, she had enough there to begin stringing a counterspell together. Her hands moved in swirling patterns as she wove them together.

Before she could complete the spell, a hand on her arm stopped her. “Hold on, I can’t let you destroy this thing,” Cedric said. “It’s not outwardly malicious. We just need to contain it, not destroy it.”

“Wa! Tan!” The statue cried, inching closer to them.

The spell fizzled out between Kira’s hands. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Wait!” Lix shouted, suddenly holding an arm up. She turned to the creature and said...something Kira couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it made the statue stop struggling immediately.

“Watan?” The statue said again. This time, Kira could hear something almost like sadness in its voice.

“I thought I recognized the way this golem was crafted,” Lix sighed, looking back at the others. There was a frown on her face. “It’s late Nabataean. Watan is the Arabic word for home.”

Lix turned back to the statue, slowly letting her arm down. Salazar still had an arm up to channel the binding spell, but Lix looked back over her shoulder and gestured for him to drop it. There was a quick, nonverbal back-and-forth, but Salazar relented. He still kept a wary eye on the situation.

From this far away, Kira couldn’t make out exactly what Lix was saying, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway. She could only wonder if the words were as pretty as they sounded. Even though it had no discernable facial features, Kira could see the slight tilt of the statue’s head as it listened to what Lix was saying.

Then, in a moment that had Kira blinking out of shock, it said something back. They were slow and stilted syllables, but it was more than Kira had heard out of it in two encounters.

The conversation didn’t last long. Before she even knew what was happening, the statue inclined its head towards Lix as she produced something from her pocket. A piece of chalk, Kira realized, as Lix began to draw some kind of sigil on the statue’s head. Without turning around, she gestured for everyone to come over and join her.

The trio exchanged various glances and shrugs before acquiescing. They got there just as Lix finished drawing the sigil. Suddenly, the statue stood to attention and froze in place. Everyone but Lix jumped back, only to realize the statue wasn’t going anywhere.

“It’s resting now,” Lix said. She reached a hand out to the statue. “All it wanted was to go home. It was taken by some men not long ago and brought here. It was just retracing its steps.”

That mixture of loneliness and nostalgia Kira felt when she saw into the statue earlier...It was homesickness.

“And where’s home?” Kira asked. She might’ve been weeks away from a master’s degree in history, but she knew woefully little outside of the European Middle Ages.

“A town not far from Petra, Jordan,” Lix explained. “This golem was the guardian of a tomb. It stood there for hundreds of years, but then the tomb was raided and it was stolen.” She turned around, seeking out Cedric. “You have to make sure this golem makes it back so it can fulfill its duty once more.”

Cedric’s nod was solemn. “I intend to.” He paused. “When you say it was taken…?”

“The grave it protected was robbed. And recently,” Lix amended. The frown on Cedric’s face deepened.

“I don’t think it’s the only thing,” Kira spoke up. “When I was tracking this guy down, I could sense hundreds of magical items in the warehouse. I thought, since you knew the guy who owned it, that this was something you oversaw. But…”

“It’s not,” Cedric finished for her, his expression hardening. “Shame. A lot of my revenue came through that auction house. Now I have that to search as well as Sterling International. No rest for the wicked, I suppose.” He let out a particularly tired sigh. “Well, I guess it’s time we headed back to the shop.”

Everyone gathered in a tight circle around the statue. This time, Lix was the one to grab onto Salazar first. Kira, meanwhile, wrapped her free arm around the statue while Cedric grabbed the other side.

Once everyone was secure, Salazar pulled the crystal from his pocket. “Everyone ready?” He asked, waiting for nods. Kira gave hers, then immediately braced for the spell to take effect.

Before Kira knew it, they were in the alleyway behind Vestibulum Venenatis once more. She blinked a couple times to adjust, but the vertigo was already clearing. Cedric really wasn’t kidding when he said this got easier with time. Considering how often they were using the herkimer diamond these days, it probably wouldn’t be long before Kira could just shrug it off the way Cedric always did.

Speaking of, the incubus was currently in the process of inspecting the statue. This was the first time he’d seen it, Kira realized. She wondered what he thought looking at the thing. Kira was still a little nervous around it herself, worrying it would suddenly spring to life again and come after her with stone fists swinging.

“How do you plan to get it back to Jordan?” Lix asked.

“Oh, I have my ways,” Cedric replied. He sent a secretive smile Kira’s way that made her guess she was part of the plan. It didn’t last long enough for her to return, however, and soon he was back to frowning at the statue. “Now the real question is how I bring this inside…” Cedric trailed off, leaning in like he was going to lift it up himself. Halfway there, decided against it. “Actually, one of my employees is a werewolf. This is his problem now.”

Kira couldn’t help but laugh. An actual joke from Cedric. How long had it been? When he looked her way, she waved him off.

“Would you be alright watching this while I grab his attention?” Cedric asked Salazar and Lix. He turned to Kira and nodded towards the shop. Behind them, Salazar and Lix were making quiet conversation in Spanish. “What was it earlier?” Cedric asked. He leaned in, lowered his voice, and raised an eyebrow. “Not checking me out are you?”

All at once, Kira was hit with a feeling almost like the homesickness from the statue. A tidal wave of longing for the times before Layla’s resurrection, before Kira’s nightmares came back, before the grimoire was stolen. Cedric’s joke earlier and his flirtatious comment now both had a glimmer of easier days in them.

For Cedric, those words seemed so natural. Over a thousand years of flirting with people probably made it a pretty ingrained habit. He seemed to realize a second later, drawing back with the shadow of a wince on his face.

Cedric wasn’t the only one fighting off a knee-jerk reaction. After so long of dealing with her boss’s passes at her, Kira’s first instinct was to let out a defensive no! But she held herself back. She wasn’t about to discourage Cedric from getting back to his old, flirty self - particularly if it meant he was happier. And, well, there was no point in denying that she’d been staring at him.

“That smile earlier,” Kira said instead, holding the shop door open for him. “The genuine ones aren’t a bad look on you.”

As Cedric passed by, Kira watched his expression carefully. The smile came back, and Kira nearly congratulated herself. But then his look changed. Maybe she was just being too oversensitive, but Kira swore she saw something in his eyes. It looked like a dawning realization. And he looked horrified.

Before she could spend too much time on it, Gus was calling their names. Kira looked up and found her best friend waving them over to the register. At first she thought he was just excited to have them back. However, she quickly recognized the distress on his face.

“You said it would just be lunch!” Gus cried once they were close enough. “You were gone for over two hours-”

“And we’re really very sorry about that, Gus,” Cedric sighed apologetically. Then, in a quieter tone, “Someone called in about the statue from last night.”

Gus’s eyes widened. “Did you, I dunno, stop it?”

“It’s in the back alley right now,” Kira answered, smiling proudly.

“And I’m sure you did just fine without us,” Cedric assured him. “Nothing’s on fire and I didn’t get any distress calls. I daresay you did an excellent job for your first time.”

“Yeah, you dare,” Gus hissed. He waved his arms at Old Reliable, voice rising in pitch. “This thing nearly broke on me, and then we had a line of customers who wanted to make their purchase now. And I had to...”

Very suddenly, Kira was reminded of the fact that Gus had never had a job in food service. Or retail, for that matter. That was just another thing that happened at the shop once a week, sometimes more. Besides, the customers here were actually a lot nicer here than they were the fast food places Kira used to work. She didn’t doubt he could handle it once he got more comfortable. The upcoming supermoon probably didn’t help, though.

Gus broke off his upcoming rant to roll up his sleeve. Kira watched in confusion as he placed three fingers on the inside of his wrist before clamping down where he placed the lowest finger..

“It’s a pressure point,” Gus explained to Kira and Cedric’s surprised faces. “Supposed to relieve stress. Toni taught it to me.”

The Harbinger, who had been talking with a pair of customers since they’d walked in, was at their side a second later. “Not like that. All you’re gonna do is give yourself a headache,” she sighed.

She held out her hand and Gus dutifully dropped his arm into it. Toni measured out the same three fingers before kneading small circles into the same spot Gus had been working at before. Kira watched in fascination as Gus’s breathing slowed and the tension left his shoulders.

“See? You don’t have to press so hard,” Toni told him, drawing back once she was satisfied with the results. She shot a smirk at Kira. “Men, right?” Kira had to place a hand over her mouth to suppress an ugly snort and she was pretty sure she saw Gus blush.

Cedric cleared his throat - probably to clear his grin, but it had the added benefit of drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “Now that you’re feeling better, what do you say to helping me lug a thousand-pound statue inside?” He asked.

When Gus’s eyes widened this time, it was even more comical. “Uh, sure?” He most certainly did not sound sure, but obligated.

While the two of them disappeared out the back, Kira hopped the counter and took Gus’s place behind the register. Toni watched the whole thing, seemingly fascinated. When Kira asked what she was looking at, Toni just shrugged. “I’ve seen Gus do it a couple times, but I guess I haven’t been here with you much. Does Cedric parkour over the counter too?”

“He started it, actually,” Kira confirmed.

“Just when I think I have the Warden figured out,” Toni shook her head. Then, she hopped up on the counter and swung her legs over. When she was done, Kira was staring at her. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I know I’m short.”

Out the corner of her eye, Kira saw the couple Toni was talking to earlier making their way to the register. Toni stared at her like she was in the way. Kira watched in surprise as Toni rang up their purchases. Gus must’ve taught her how to work Old Reliable, then. Huh.

Since Toni seemed perfectly content behind the register, Kira opened the door to the back rooms. What she found almost made her laugh. Gus was the only one with a hand on the statue, grimacing as he brought it over to the store room. At first, the appearance of fangs and glowing eyes made her nervous, but he probably needed to shift a little to help pick up the giant hunk of rock. He seemed pretty focused on the task at hand anyway. Salazar was spotting for him and holding open doors while Cedric appeared to be nothing more than moral support.

And Lix...Lix was staring at something just over Kira’s shoulder. She turned just in time to catch Toni wave behind her. That seemed to do the trick, but Lix continued to shoot them looks.

“What? Is my fly down or something?” Toni asked.

As if she didn’t already know. Kira moved to stand behind Toni, meeting Lix’s stare. She seemed to get the point after that.

Moments later, the rest of the crew emerged from the back. It was getting a bit crowded behind the counter, but Kira didn’t know how to politely excuse herself to the other side.

“Well, now that everything’s settled,” Cedric was the first to speak, cutting through the awkward tension. “Toni, you’re free to go. You too, Gus, if you’d like to get back to the labs.”

“Sweet,” Toni nodded. “Oh, before I peace out, you’re gonna need to put me on the payroll with the way you keep dragging me down here.”

“That can be arranged,” Cedric shrugged after a moment’s consideration.

Halfway across the counter, Toni hesitated. Looks like Cedric really did never stop running out of ways to surprise her after all, Kira couldn’t help but smile. Toni did too. She didn’t really say anything else after that. Maybe she was still too shocked to come up with a witty goodbye. Or, well, a verbal one at least. She did manage an impressively sarcastic salute. The bells above the door played her out.

“I’m gonna stick around for a bit, but I’m gonna head out on my lunch break now if that’s alright?” Gus asked a moment later.

Once Cedric gave him the okay, he was running out the door too. With no customers left in the lobby, the shop went quiet. “Have you decided what-” Cedric began just as Salazar said, “So I should let you know-” They shared a look before laughing. Cedric stopped first, deferring to his friend.

Salazar took a deep breath before saying, “After weeks of stalling, I have to return to my Ward.”

It was like a punch to the gut, Kira couldn’t help but think. Still, one she saw coming. Hearing him say it hurt, but at least she’d known to brace for impact. It was bound to happen eventually. It needed to happen. Still, that didn’t mean Kira had to like it.

“I’ve left it without a leader for too long and that alone is inexcusable for a Warden,” Salazar went on. “I’ve also neglected the Temple of Mixba’al and...” He stopped to wrap an arm around Lix’s shoulders. She leaned into the embrace with a kind of ease that suggested this was a common position for the two of them. “And I’ve been neglecting the woman I’ve asked to marry me. I need to head back.”

Cedric was the first to speak. “Ah, I figured that’s what this was about.” He nodded solemnly, but there was a smile on his face. “I’ll be sad to see you go, my friend. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t worry, I intend to make plenty of visits,” he replied, throwing his smile in Kira’s direction. “As long as you still want my help, of course.”

“Of course I still want your help!” Kira said immediately.

It wasn’t so much a want as a need. There was still so much about the Mark she had yet to learn and the thought of doing that on her own was terrifying. What she wanted to do was tell Salazar to stay. Stay until she understood just what she’d inherited, stay until she knew him. But after seeing the look in his eyes when he smiled at Lix, Kira knew that was out of the question. Selfish! Her mind screamed at her. She shut her lips tight.

At least Salazar seemed to think her response was funny, or maybe his chuckle was his attempt to lighten the situation. Kira swallowed and tried to stop herself from tearing up.

“Just know you’re welcome here any time. My guest room will be lonely without you,” Cedric told him.

“Don’t tempt me, now,” Salazar chuckled, looking away to shake his head. “But it’s time to stop being so afraid. I may be a coward, but at least I’m honest with myself about that. For a long time, I thought that would be enough. Now I realize that it’s time for me to face my mistakes.” He took a deep breath. “It’s time for me to go home.”

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - ten

notes: and we come to the close of part 1!! and perfect timing too, because today i turn twenty :D thank you all so much for your lovely birthday wishes, you guys are the absolute sweetest. as a present from me to all of you, here’s the conclusion of the first part of my tempest series! hope you all enjoy <3

contains: some swearing, violence

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 4k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

THE FIRST THING MARIN NOTICED WHEN SHE REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS WAS THE PITCHED RINGING IN HER EARS. She peeled her eyes open slowly, taking in the sights around her.

Fires had cropped up everywhere, debris of all sizes and shapes littering the sand. Her hearing was muffled like her head had been submerged underwater. But as the seconds passed, she registered the bangs and crashes coming from somewhere to the side of her.

She twisted her body on the ground and saw that about of hundred feet away, the Vulture had slammed Peter's body into the sand so violently that Marin's gasp contorted in her throat. Then, as her vision stopped swimming, Toomes pierced the hood of Spider-Man's hoodie with the tip of his wing and raised him high into the air. Peter's limp body dangled uselessly like a rag doll, and Marin's heart twisted in her chested.

Enraged, Marin scrambled to her feet and charged at the Vulture with a strangled scream. Somewhere in her, her years of training resisted against the scream because she knew it would give away her intentions, but her rage busted out of her like a flood crashing through a damn. Unconcerned and without giving it much thought, Toomes only swung his unoccupied wing in a deep arc, slamming it into Marin's exposed body and throwing her to the side.

The impact forced the air from her chest, Marin curling up in agony. Some of the razor-sharp edges sliced into her stomach and the burning sting on her cheek told her that she'd been cut there as well.

Distantly, Marin realized that the Vulture had dropped Peter, flying over his unmoving body. Grunting with pain as she gasped for air, Marin saw the sparks shooting out of his wings as he approached a crate spilling with arc reactors. If Toomes was integrating those alien devices in his suit like she strongly suspected, then the damage that had caused his wings to spark and buzz like that could only mean one thing.

"Peter," Marin wheezed, trying to inch towards him. A fleeting thought told her to radio Lucy and James, but with a touch to her ear, Marin realized that her earpiece must've fallen out during the crash.

"Peter!" Marin finally reached him, grabbing his arm. He slowly lifted his head, sand stuck to the hair and cheek dampened with sweat and blood. "Peter, his wings—"

Peter tried to prop himself up, evidently recovering much quicker than Marin was. Then again, he did have enhanced healing abilities. He stared at Toomes, who was rummaging through the wreck. "Your wings," Peter croaked out, but Toomes either didn't hear him or didn't care because he began to lift off with the crate of arc reactors clutched in his talons. "Your wing suit's gonna explode!"

The whirring was getting exponentially louder, and Peter struggled to lift a hand to stick a web to the crate, pulling with all of his might. Marin tried to stand, but the pain radiating from the cuts in her abdomen caused her to fall back to her knees. With an outstretched arm, she pulled at the ocean water and grabbed the crate with one hand controlling the surge of water, and the other cradling her bleeding stomach.

Unrelenting, Toomes shook his head and faced them. "Time to go home, kids."

"We're..." Peter gasped, and screamed, "Trying to save you!"

The Vulture cut the web, the sudden loss of pressure jerking the crate back and out of Marin's already weak grasp. Marin fell backward as the water splashed into the sand, and the Vulture began to take off.

Peter tried shooting another web as the wings' mechanics whirred at dangerously loud levels, but the vial clicked in the shooter, empty.

Marin looked up to see the wings give off one more giant set of sparks before plummeting to the sand in a small explosion. Peter and Marin covered their heads, then watched in horror as flames erupted where Toomes had landed.

"No," Peter breathed and got to his feet, sprinting over to the fallen man.

"Shit, Peter." Marin winced hard and gathered the strength to stand. She hobbled over, only needing a little bit of her energy to grab another wave of water to smother the flames as best as she could. Suddenly, a figure appeared next to her, two dark arms outstretched. It was Lucy, taming the fires as she approached Peter and Toomes. Marin knew her friend was in good hands and as she released the water, she would've collapsed if it weren't for James rushing to catch her. He hoisted her with one arm underneath her shoulder blades, and lifted his other hand to her temple, sending encouragements and soothing warmth through her mind.

She was feeling slightly better, the pain in her stomach and arm more manageable than before, and was able to stand on her own. She straightened to see Lucy extinguished the flams so Peter could carry Toomes' limp body to safety.

Peter dumped him at a clear spot, and Marin hurried to crouch over Peter as he coughed and grabbed at his chest. He clutched his shoulder as she helped him to his feet, and Marin saw Toomes become alert, looking up at Spider-Man incredulously.

After a moment, Marin looked to James and nodded. James lowered himself over Toomes, put his fingers to his temple, and the Vulture slumped into unconsciousness once more.

Peter's gasp caught Marin's attention. "How..."

"These," Marin grunted, letting go of Peter. "Are my friends."

Stunned silent, Peter could only nod.

Together, they tied Toomes up to one of the still (mostly) intact crates (that also wasn't on fire) and waited as Peter wrote a note using a nearby marker and piece of paper, and sticking it to the wood next to his head. Peeking at it, Marin read, "FOUND FLYING VULTURE GUY –SPIDER-MAN + FRIENDS", and below that, in smaller letters: "p.s. sorry about your plane".

Marin chuckled as they all headed down the beach together, to where the jet was parked far away from all of the debris.

Peter was supporting Marin as they walked, with one arm under her shoulder. "So, are you guys mutants, too, or something?"

+++

Marin, Lucy, and James had returned to the Institute that next morning to find that most of the students welcomed them all back like heroes. Marin later learned, after having a conversation with Mary, that they'd all seen the events unfold on the news, and watched and cheered her on into the earlier morning.

There'd been footage from a shot in the sky where the viewer got a good look of Marin's face, which was easily recognizable despite the blood and sand caking her skin.

Even three days later, Marin was still being clapped on the back, commended, and complemented by her peers as she walked the halls. Charles had given her the full weekend to rest before interrogating her, for which she was immensely grateful.

"And what happened after you left Coney Island?" Charles asked amicably once he called her in for a report. Marin was the last to go; James and Lucy had already given theirs earlier that morning.

"We took the jet back to Forest Park where I then walked Spider-Man back to his apartment." Although Lucy and James knew Peter's secret, Marin wasn't comfortable with divulging it to anyone else, if she could help it. "Then Lucy figured it would probably be a good idea to pick up some fast food, so we stopped at the closest restaurant that was open and ate until, like, three in the morning. Then we came back, and that's it."

Marin chose to leave out the part where Peter had let her inside his bedroom so that Marin could help heal some of his more artificial wounds with water from the sink in his bathroom.

Charles hummed, studying her. "And what happens now?"

Marin blinked. "Sorry?"

"What do you want to do now, Miss Frost?" Charles repeated, though not unkindly. If there was one thing Charles was never, it was impatient.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Professor." Marin furrowed her brows.

"Do you plan on staying at the Institute?"

Marin scoffed lightly. "I'm not sure where else I could go, Professor. I'm still not sure that Spider-Man has completely forgiven me, and Tony Stark no-doubt still hates my guts because he still thinks I killed my parents, so this is kind of the only place I can stay."

Charles narrowed his eyes at her curiously. "But you don't want to stay here, do you?"

He may have said that he was not able to read her mind just yet, but Marin was beginning to doubt that. She blew back a section of her bangs with a huff. "I never did." She answered honestly, feeling only a slight bit of shame.

"How so?"

Marin searched for the right words. "I never really belonged here, did I? I mean, from the moment I got here, I was constantly at odds with everyone around me. A part of myself was taken away from me, and I don't think my memories will ever be quite the same, again. But it's not entirely because of you," she rushed to explain when she saw the guilt creep onto Charles' face. "I've yet to find myself at this place. I know what I want, but I'm not sure I'm strong enough to get it." She looked down at her hands.

"What is it that you want, Miss Frost?"

Marin carded a restless hand through her hair, sighing out a laugh. "It seems stupid, now. But ever since I got these powers, I wanted to use them to save people. And when we watched the Battle of New York through a TV screen instead of through our own eyes, I wanted to be an Avenger. Being in the X-Men program was as close as I could get to being a superhero, and as soon as I saw the chance to prove myself, I took it. But I... I've really blown it. I had the chance; I was so close—and I failed. And now, after losing Spider-Man and Mr. Stark's trust, I'm beginning to think that maybe I was wrong." Marin lowered her gaze, and this time, she let her bangs dangle in front of her eyes. "That I really don't have what it takes to be a superhero."

The Professor was silent for a full minute. "You're right." He stated simply, and Marin lifted her head to look at him, half offended, half disbelieving, and just a smidge surprised. "You don't belong here, Marin." He smiled gently at her. "You have so much good in your heart—so much bravery—and you just need the opportunity to use it. And you won't be able to use it here."

Marin returned his smile, but it faded once reality caught up to her. "But... how? I'm still stuck here."

Charles gave her a private smirk. "It would seem, Marin Frost, that you are not."

+++

There was a car waiting for her. Shouldering her new duffel bag full of clothes and any remaining memorabilia, Marin looked to Lucy and James, who were standing in front of her.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Marin said, surprisingly sad. "At least for now, right?"

Lucy nodded. "Of course, Marin." She wrapped her in a tight hug, then pulled back. "This isn't forever."

James took his turn. "You'll do great things, Marin Frost."

Marin gave them each a genuine smile and turned to approach the car. Happy Hogan was at the backseat door on the passenger side, and with one hand he opened the door, grabbing her duffel bag with the other. She thanked him and slid into the seat. She startled to see Peter already in the seat beside her.

"Jesus, Peter!" She gasped, clutching her chest.

"It's just Peter," he snarked. Marin rolled her eyes and buckled herself in.

Happy got back into the driver's seat and pulled away from the mansion. Marin didn't look back.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Marin whispered to Peter, settling in her seat.

"No one told you?"

"No, they just said to pack a bag of my things," Marin shifted her eyes to look at Happy's reflection in the rear-view mirror. "Nothing about the destination, though."

"Mr. Stark wants to see us," Peter whispered conspiratorially. "Upstate."

Marin's eyes widened. "I figured it had something to do with Mr. Stark once I saw Happy, but upstate? Really?"

"You know I can hear you two, right?" Happy said without taking his eyes off of the road.

Marin shrugged at him. "How far away is upstate?" She said at a normal level.

"About an hour, so find a way to entertain yourselves without bothering me." He grumbled, and Marin raised one eyebrow.

"Is he always this grumpy?" She asked Peter, her voice hushed again.

"Sometimes he's worse." He whispered back.

"I can still hear you!"

Peter and Marin snickered as he raised the partition.

+++

"Oh, that's great!"

"Yeah, Michelle really deserved it, especially after winning Nationals for—"

"We're here," Happy called from the front. At some point during the trip, he'd lowered the partition again, but not before they'd promised not to bug him. "Take a look; pretty impressive, huh?"

"Whoa," Marin breathed.

The building they were driving by was only a few stories tall, but each floor must've been at least fifteen feet, and the whole building stretched on for at least an acre. Massive windows lined the entire length of the front-facing wall, the panes glittering in the afternoon sun. There were other, smaller buildings surrounding that main one, but the Avengers symbol built into the side wall drew Marin's eye as they drove along the paved road.

"They just finished remodeling the whole thing." Happy was saying, and Marin turned to see Peter's awed expression.

They'd hurried into the building as soon as Happy had parked the car, dashing up the steps and looking around with amazement. The ceilings seemed to stretch on infinitely high, and Marin practically pressed her nose to the windows. "Pete, look!" She pointed excitedly at a Quinjet taking off. He jogged over, his smiling growing wider as he followed the rising jet.

"You don't see that every day." Happy quipped proudly as the two turned to follow him.

"Oh, there they are!"

Marin blanched as she saw Tony Stark approach the group with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. Her excitement fizzled into fear, and despite knowing that he was the one who summoned her, she subtly moved so that her body was mostly concealed by Peter's.

She tried to avoid Mr. Stark's gaze as he tried to dismiss Happy, only for the bodyguard to relent and trail behind as they walked. Mr. Stark stepped towards them, punching Peter playfully on the shoulder and mussing up Marin's hair. She wasn't breathing.

Then, Mr. Stark threw his arms over his shoulders and began to walk jovially, as if the last time he saw her, he hadn't yelled at her and exposed her darkest secrets.

"I'm sorry I reacted like that," Mr. Stark said to Marin. "Charles called me the day after to correct himself, and gave me a play-by-play on how he was wrong, you weren't a murderer, blah, blah, blah..." then to Peter, "And I'm sorry I took your suit. I mean, you had it coming. Actually, it turns out it was the perfect sort of tough-love moment that you needed, right? To urge you on, right? Wouldn't you think?"

"Uh, I—yeah," Peter stammered.

"Let's just say it was." Mr. Stark said, then sighed happily. They walked for a measure until Marin found the courage to speak.

"Mr. Stark, I really—"

"You screwed the pooch hard—both of you." He interrupted her. "Big time. But then you both did the right thing. Took the dog to the free clinic, you raised the hybrid puppies... all right, not my best analogy." He paused to think. "I was wrong about you. And I was really wrong about you, Miss Frost. I think, with a little more mentoring, you both could be real assets to the team."

"The team?"

They came to a stop at a wall with two sets of doors on either side and a large half-circle wall extending outward, marked with the Avengers symbol.

"Yeah. Anyway..." Mr. Stark pointed haphazardly to the set of doors on the left. "There's about fifty reporters behind that door. Real ones, not bloggers." He tapped twice on his wristwatch, and the circular wall opened up to reveal a secret compartment. Inside, two mannequins swiveled up.

The one on the right looked like Spider-Man's, but instead of vibrant cloth fabrics, this suit was made of a reflective metal; the blues and reds more muted, and overall had a gray-undertone and looked like a Spider-Man version of an Iron Man suit. It was impressive, but the one on the left made Marin inhale sharply.

The suit decorating the mannequin on the left resembled that of Black Widow's tight leather suit, except this one was not as tight, was decidedly not black. The large, golden emblem of a lightning bolt was the first thing that caught Marin's eye, positioned center on the chest. Geometric strips of matching gold extended outward from the lightning bolt, wrapping around her bust and shoulders in harsh lines. The rest of the suit was an electric aquamarine, the same color as her energy. Blocks of light gray fabric covered the armor plates on her forearms and shoulders, as well as matching gray shin-high boots. But there was no mask, she noticed, the mannequin bare from the neck-up.

"Why don't you guys try them on?" Tony Stark prompted, Peter and Marin stepping forward to examine the suits closer. "And I'll introduce the world to the newest official members of the Avengers: Spider-Man and..." Mr. Stark trailed off, pointing at Marin. "I'm sorry, do you really go by 'Rain'? Because I'm gonna be honest, it's kind of lame."

Marin chuckled, still in awe from the suit. "I hate it," she murmured, running her fingers lightly over the fabric. "'Rain', I mean, not the suit—god, the suit's amazing—"

"You sound like Pete." Mr. Stark laughed to himself, though Marin had no idea what he meant. "Figured out a better one, then?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"No, I don't... I don't really have another one." Marin frowned, and saw Peter glance at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Tempest," Peter said suddenly, causing Marin to pivot and look at him. "What about 'Tempest'? Cause of the water, and stuff. Like a storm,"

Marin felt her lips curl into a large, toothy smile as she nodded. "Tempest. I like it."

They shared a look, where Marin felt like it was just the two of them until Mr. Stark broke it up by clapping his hands together. "Okay! So how 'bout it, Spider-Man and Tempest—newest official Avengers? So, after the press conference, Happy will show you to your rooms, your new quarters. Where's Peter between? He's next to Vision?"

"Yeah, Vision's not big on doors," Happy responded with a grimace.

"It's fun."

"Or walls."

"You guys will fit right in." Tony smiled at Marin and Peter.

Marin looked back at her suit, and for some reason, a weight settled in her stomach as she realized what that would mean.

She noticed Peter hesitate, too. "Thank you, Mr. Stark, but I'm good."

Marin's eyes flicked to him. Apparently, Mr. Stark was surprised by his response, too. "You're good? Good? How are you good?"

"Well, I mean, I'm... I'd rather just stay on the ground for a little while. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." Peter chuckled shyly, shrugging. "Somebody's got to look out for the little guy, right?"

Mr. Stark pulled off his glasses. "You're turning me down? You better think about this." He pointed to the new Spider-Man suit. "Look at that." He pointed at himself. "Look at me. Last chance: yes or no?"

"No." Peter said without missing a beat.

"Okay. It's a kind of Springsteen-y, working-class hero vibe that I dig." Marin could tell that Mr. Stark was trying not to look too disappointed. He then turned to her. "What about you, Marin? You in?"

Marin pursed her lips, rolling them against her teeth. "I'm in." She said eventually, giving Mr. Stark a smile.

Mr. Stark looked genuinely pleased, and even a little excited that she accepted his offer. It made any doubts that he'd truly forgiven her wash away. "Wonderful! Happy, can you take Peter home for me?"

"Yeah," Happy agreed, then said to Peter, "Mind waiting in the car? I need a minute."

Peter nodded, and while Happy went to speak to Mr. Stark in a hushed voice, Marin offered to walk down with him.

"Do you think that was a test?" Peter suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Like, the press. You think there was actually nobody back there, and it was all just a test?"

"Hmm, I guess I'll find out soon, then?"

"So, you're really accepting his offer?" He pulled to a stop in front of her at the front of the staircase. "You're gonna... move here, and become an Avenger?"

Marin sighed. "I just... these powers, Pete. I've only been using them for a couple of days, and I can already feel..." she trailed off, not knowing how to explain the constant buzz of the energy pushing against her skin, begging to be let out. "I need to train them, and in a place where I'm least likely to hurt anyone in case I go rogue."

Peter frowned. "I highly doubt you'd go rogue, Marin. You're like, the strongest person I know."

Marin's stomach fizzed, and she smiled. "That's sweet, Parker, but I'm not going to take any chances." Her smile faltered. "You'll be safe, won't you?"

"Of course," Peter hugged her, his arms solid and his chest tight and warm and soft all at the same time. Marin fit perfectly in his arms like that, her own arms wrapping around his waist and her cheek resting against his pectorals. She could feel his heart pounding against her chin, fluttery and rapid like a hummingbird's. "And you'll keep in touch?"

Marin pulled away, giving him a soft smile. "Always, Peter."

"And we'll see each other soon, won't we?" Peter took a small step back, toward the stairs. "Please take advantage of those cool Quinjets, even if you have to steal one."

Marin laughed. "I don't think stealing jets is going to look good for me, Parker."

"Well, I'll come to you, then."

Marin rolled her eyes. "Focus on school, Peter Parker. And for heaven's sake, make Ned your Guy in The Chair."

Peter mock-saluted, stepping down a step backward. "Yes, ma'am." He nodded, and turned, descending the stairs.

On the floor below, Peter turned and looked up at her. "Be careful, out there, Marin Frost."

Marin smiled down at him. "You too, Spider-Man."

+++

As it turned out, there really was a swarm of reporters waiting for the surprise announcement. But instead of getting two new Avengers, they got a marriage proposal.

Marin loathed to keep Tony away from his fiancée, but Pepper insisted they talk about the logistics.

"Are you sure you don't want to be an Avenger?" Tony eyed her.

"Yes, I'm sure." Marin nodded, looking determined. "I need to focus on controlling my new powers, and I figured that this was the best place to do it."

"And... the suit?"

"For when I'm ready, I suppose."

Tony nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. Marin sat back in her plush armchair. "So, what now?"

Tony Stark looked at her, grinning, and held out his hand to the side. After a moment, a piece of red and gold metal flew straight into his hand, and slowly extended over his arm. "Well, let's see what you got, Tempest."

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99​ @pushmeinablackhole​ @demi-starzak​ @-thatgirloverthere-​  @silver-winter-wolf​ @yourwonderbelle

[drowning-in-the-universe]

SCP 2030 x Reader

Your fingers strummed off the steering wheel in time to the beat of your favourite song. The radio was the only thing that provided a dim blueish glow inside of your car, the rest of the light coming from the headlights. There was no point in streetlights down such narrow country roads, no one really used them anyway unless they lived out here. But that meant it was quiet, exactly how you liked it. There was no traffic to keep you late, no horrid drivers with road rage and none of that disgusting exhaust fume smell. It was peaceful and you always looked forward to a drive home after a long day at work. What you liked the thought of even more was just crawling into a warm bed.

You slowed at the small T intersection, bushes grew up either side so it was always hard to see if anyone was coming. You were in the right of way to start with but you always just liked making sure. Perhaps it would have been better for you not to have slowed, for as you continued straight on you became aware of a lorry hurtling towards you at a great speed. It didn’t have its lights on and obviously the driver was unaware of the intersection.

You didn’t even have time to scream as it collided with your car, the sound of crushing metal followed by a sharp pain in your ribs then… nothing.

A gasp escaped your lips as the shock made you sit up bolt right, hands desperately grabbing at your torso but by now the pain was gone. A loud ringing remained it your ears to the point where it made your head pound. Despite your confusion you were quick to understand that this was not your car. Nor was it even the road you were on. But your brain felt too fuzzy to really comprehend much at the moment not to mention your vision seemed a little blurry.

As you began rubbing your temples in an attempt to clear your mind you tried to focus on something else, eyes scanning desperately about for something you could anchor yourself on. And something did catch your eye, a pair of bright blue eyes staring up at you. For a moment you were entranced, hypnotised by them, unable to draw your gaze away.

It didn’t take you long to come back to your senses, the haze in your mind slowly clearing. You weren’t sure where you were but you sure as hell didn’t like it. The place was brightly lit, it seemed like some sort of studio, or theatre. It wasn’t clear yet in your mind what was going on but you sensed somewhere deep down that this was bad. You almost gagged at a sickening feeling settling in your stomach as your gaze fell back on the man with those blue eyes, unblinking and studying you carefully.

You knew you couldn’t be here any longer and quickly rose to your feet, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness took over, but that didn’t stop you. You had to half crawl over seats of people that seemed like lifeless dummies, their expressions blank and eyes glazed over. They only looked ahead, unfocused. It didn’t seem to matter as you climbed over them, they didn’t even seem to notice.

Only momentarily did you look back to see his emotionless blue gaze still focused on you, cold and calculating. As if observing prey. That was certainly how you felt and briefly wondered if you were only going to make this worse. Instincts took over as your focused shifted back to escape, stumbling as you ran up the steps and flung the door open, not stopping to take in your surroundings.

You didn’t know what was going on, where you were or how you had got here. All you knew was that you needed to leave. And as fast as possible. The overwhelming sense of dread only seemed to increase as you hurried through what now seemed to be more of a warehouse. Massive crates were stacked on one another, almost like a maze. There was a sickly sweet smell to the air, almost like rot. As you passed a few of the wooden crates you could have sworn some of them had dark red stains pooling in the bottom corners.

Over and over you told yourself not to look. Just to keep running. Somewhere in the distance behind you a door swung open with such a force that it must have hit the wall for a great thud followed shortly after the creak of the hinges. You bit back a sob, too terrified to look behind you for you were afraid of what you might see.

Now you could hear footsteps, fast and determined, as though every step was a calculated move on a chess board. He knew where you were, he knew where you were trying to go. And he knew you wouldn’t make it there for he knew the place better than you. Funnily enough you couldn’t run. But you sure as hell could hide.

Almost immediately you dove between two crates, squeezing your way through a gap and around the back of one, sinking down to your knees as if trying to make yourself as small as possible. The footsteps grew nearer and you held a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your breath or stop it all together.

And he grew nearer and nearer. You weren’t sure how you knew who it was but you could almost picture his guileful gaze scanning over every crate.

The footsteps stopped abruptly, far too close for you to be comfortable. Ever so quietly you shifted, peeking around the crate you were hidden behind. His tall, lanky form stood not far away, almost accentuated by a well fitted blue suit, the same colour as his eyes. His back was to you momentarily and as he started turning you darted behind the crate again. Afraid to look at those eyes.

Moments later he was walking again. Coming closer and closer. Like a wolf stalking a deer. You found yourself curling up into a tight ball, shutting your eyes to stop tears from falling and holding your breath as he grew nearer. And nearer still.

And he walked right past you, yet it wasn’t until you heard the steps starting to fade did you feel safe enough to let out a shaky exhale, carefully peering out from behind your safe zone to ensure the coast was clear before wriggling your way out from behind the crates.

Not daring to run this time you quietly crept through the maze of crates that smelt of rot. Listening out for your assailant seemed futile as it seemed all you could hear was the rapid thudding of your own heartbeat. You felt sick to your stomach, acidic bile getting caught in your throat and leaving an awful stinging sensation. No matter how terrified you were, you pushed yourself on, forcing your legs to keep moving.

In the end, it seemed worth it - you neared what seemed like the front of the warehouse, soft rays of light streaming through a large metal shudder. Beside it was a smaller, metal door, it had no windows, but it had a handle that seemed to lock from the inside. Not daring to look back, you hurried over to the exit, the locked clicked open almost too easily. You didn’t want to question it, putting it down as luck finally being on your side. The door was heavy and the hinges badly rusted, with some force it opened with a loud creak that echoed throughout the warehouse. You didn’t wait to see if the man in the blue suit was still following you, but he surely heard the door open, so you ran.

The surrounding area was unfamiliar, many similar warehouses scattered across a large complex, similar to the one you had just emerged from. You didn’t bother to find the gate, a nearby fence leading to a small street seemed good enough. There was nothing and no one to stop you from making your escape, in fact the whole complex was eerily quiet. The sun was high in the sky, yet there wasn’t a single person in sight, there were no birds or animals that you could see, there wasn’t even a slight breeze blowing through the area. Outside the complex the streets looked empty and bleak. The whole place seemed dead and that momentarily filled you with an overwhelming sense of fear. Yet, you didn’t stop, pulling yourself over the fence and almost falling as you dropped down the other side, briefly glancing back to see those blue eyes staring right at you from just outside the warehouse you had left. They held no emotion, not seeming concerned that you had gotten away.

All you could do was back away from the fence, turning and almost running into an oncoming car. Stumbling back from the road in confusion you ended up bumping into someone behind you, who paid very little attention to your existence and continued walking, not bothering to utter an apology. In a brief moment of confusion, you found yourself struggling to comprehend what had happened, how quickly life seemed to have returned to your surroundings. You realised you didn’t have time to dwell on the matter, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the warehouse as possible.

Without any real direction you took off, hurrying past people and across streets that were unrecognisable to you. This city was somewhere you hadn’t been before and there were no shops or stores in sight that seemed to give an indication as to where you were. Once you had decided you had run far enough you turned your efforts to figuring out your location, and how you were going to get home.

You turned your attention to a nearby man, he had a bag of shopping in hand and didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, it seemed like a good idea just to ask.

“Sorry… excuse me,” you hurried up beside him, but you were promptly ignored with not even a look in your general direction. At first you thought that perhaps he hadn’t heard you, but when you attempted to attract his attention again you were met with the same response, or lack thereof.

Growing frustrated you reached out and grabbed his arm, “I need help, please.”

No matter the amount of desperation in your tone, it seemed he just didn’t want to listen, frowning at his arm for a few moments and looking up at you with an annoyed glare, as if you were some sort of dirty pest trying to get in his way. Once more he didn’t even bother speaking to you, just pulled his arm from your grasp and walked on.

At first you couldn’t quite believe how rude one man could possibly be, so you tried again, on another pedestrian who was walking past you. Again, you were ignored. Again, you tried on a different person. The outcome seemed the same, as if you weren’t even there, ignored each time and any physical contact you made was brushed off as a mere annoyance.

Your original frustration had shifted to desperation and confusion. You couldn’t quite figure out why no one would listen. Briefly, you wondered if you had died and were a ghost, but the notion was a stupid one, you could touch things, interact with things. They reacted when you made contact with them, it wasn’t a welcome reaction, but it was at least enough to prove that you weren’t a ghost. There was no way you could have died. But you could only think back to last night, no it must have been sooner than that. It felt like mere minutes ago that you were in your car. You remembered driving home, and you remembered the truck, and the pain in your chest but after that it was all just blank.

Perhaps this was just hell.

You needed to call someone, but all you could find in your pockets were a few coins and a hair tie. The last time you had your phone was in your car, in the passenger seat, you could bet that was where it was now.

But the few coins were enough, it didn’t take you long to find a payphone, a few minutes of walking through the bustling city let you to the small booth. You pulled the door open and shut it behind you, filling the machine with all the change you had and calling the first number that popped into your head.

After a few rings the phone was picked up, you heard your father’s voice down the line.

“Hello?” he asked, not sounding too pleased to have gotten a call in the first place, probably thinking it was someone wanting to sell him something, after all, who even called landlines anymore?

You could have almost cried just from the reassurance of something familiar and you couldn’t stop yourself, your words coming out frantic and far too fast to really comprehend, “Dad, oh thank god, dad, it’s me. I- I don’t know where I am. I think I was in an accident. I woke up in- “

“Hello? Hello?”

Your heart dropped.

“Dad? Can you hear me?” you asked, fearing the worst but you never got time to hear an answer as the door behind you opened, making you jump slightly.

You turned to see an older woman walk in and look at you in a confused way before frowning and snatching the phone from your hand, setting it back in its stand, ending your call then and there. You didn’t have the ability to question what was going on, too shocked to form any words. She simply proceeded to ignore you, putting her own coins into the slots and commencing her own call, like you weren’t even there.

You stood, defeated for a few moments. People were treating you like an inanimate object, perhaps worse - at least you walked around an object rather than trampling over it. It was as if you weren’t even real. Your own father didn’t even acknowledge your existence. Turning away from the phone you pushed the door open and left the booth.

You didn’t even know where you were, and the desperation inside you only seemed to grow. You had no money, no way of getting home and you couldn’t even communicate with anyone. Perhaps leaving that warehouse had been a bad idea, perhaps you could have gotten answers there. But something about that place made you feel sick, even the very thought of it gave you the twisting feeling in your gut.

All you could do now was walk with no destination in mind, at a complete loss. What you did at this point seemed futile, so you just kept walking. Eventually you ended up at a small park with a grassy area and a few benches. Even if you did want to go back to the warehouse you had no idea of how to get there, you supposed if you walked long enough you could find it again, but you no longer felt like walking, almost falling back onto a park bench.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, righteously wallowing in your own self-pity, but it must have been hours because after a while you looked up to notice that the sun was setting. Now did you realise you had nowhere to stay for the night, and once more all you could do was dread the sun setting, putting your head in your hands and shutting your eyes to fight back tears because you knew full well crying wouldn’t do anything for you in a situation like this.

Again, you were lost in your own thoughts, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation to what was happening for it all just felt like a bad dream. The more you thought about it, the more your head seemed to hurt, you just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Right now, you would be driving home from work. You might have actually been at home already, you weren’t quite sure what time it was. You might have already had dinner, you might have fed your pets too, perhaps done some housework. Some spring cleaning had never seemed more appealing and for a few moments the thought of being at home had made you feel a little better. Maybe if you could get back there it wouldn’t be so bad, even if no one paid attention to you.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a more than unwelcome sight. A pair of black dress shoes stood in front of you, and you could take a well-educated guess as to who they belonged to. You had no idea how he had found you, he shouldn’t have been able to. You didn’t even know where you where, so why should he?

You couldn’t bring yourself to look up as you spoke, afraid of those cold blue eyes, “Are you going to take me back?”

For a few moments he didn’t respond, and you thought that perhaps he wasn’t going to listen to you either, and you thought that it was for the better as you weren’t sure you really wanted to listen to him.

But then you found yourself being made to look at him, his hand gripping your jaw, forcing your head up. It wasn’t sore but it was certainly uncomfortable. Once your eyes met his you found that overwhelming fear settling in the pit of your stomach again. He seemed to study you carefully, his brow slightly furrowed as his eyes scanned across your features, as if searching for something before releasing you.

You inhaled a sigh of relief as he stepped back slightly, putting his hands in his pockets as he let your discomfort grow in the silence that followed. He allowed you to squirm uncomfortably for a few moments before he finally spoke in a voice that sounded like velvet.

“Clearly I can’t make you,” he stated, as if you were something of a nuisance to him, “But, I’m sure by now you’ve realised you don’t fit in here.”

It seemed all you could do was nod meekly, not really wanting to have admitted that to yourself, but it was blindingly obvious.

“Therefore, it’s better you- “

“What’s wrong with me?” you interrupted, looking at him with pleading eyes. You needed to know, that was the worst part about this, not knowing why this was happening, because you couldn’t come up for any sort of explanation.

For a split second you could have sworn his features shifted to that of pity before returning to being near emotionless as he spoke, “Come with me.”

“I don’t- “

“I wasn’t asking,” he cut in, although didn’t sound particularly angered, he didn’t sound particularly anything, just hollow and empty. But the way he looked at you with those blue eyes of his made you feel compelled to listen. So, you stood without any further argument.

It seemed any sort of conversation had ended as he turned on his heel, walking out of the park as you trailed along behind him. It seemed he didn’t want you to believe he gave a damn whether you followed or not, yet you caught him throwing glances over his shoulder every now and then.

For a while you thought that maybe he was just taking you straight back to the warehouse, but to your surprise he stopped outside of an ice-cream shop, looking back at you before walking inside. You followed after but instead of joining him while he was ordering, you instead took a seat in the corner as you waited for him.

You watched as he spoke to the girl serving him, she was laughing at something he had said, the empty expression he wore was replaced by a charming grin. You wondered if it was just an act or if he was perhaps just annoyed by your existence.

Moments later he joined you at the table, placing two small sundaes down, you weren’t sure if vanilla was your favourite but when he pushed it towards you, you figured refusal wasn’t an option. He didn’t seem a fan of what he had ordered either and seemed to want to play with his food more than he actually wanted to eat it.

After a few careful spoonsful of the sundae you decided that vanilla was better than nothing at all. But the silence definitely had to go.

“You didn’t pay,” you pointed out quietly, hoking out a small lump of cookie dough from the centre of your ice-cream before taking a bite of it.

“She’s a fan of my show,” he stated rather matter of factly, not looking up from the sundae that he was quickly turning into a mess. And the two of you relapsed into silence once more, leaving you to stare down silently at your ice-cream.

“Although, I must say, human food is rather bland. I much prefer their flesh,” the tone of his voice remaining serious as he spoke, causing your whole body to momentarily freeze up as you stared at him in disbelief.

“I am joking,” he muttered after some time, glancing up to see the horrified look on your face, seeming to get some amusement from your sheer terror. You couldn’t say you much enjoyed the joke, nor did you think it was a good one.

“You do know you have to come back,” he muttered, blue eyes still trained on the ice-cream as if that were more interesting than you, his head propped up on his hand that rested below his chin, “It’s too hard to explain what’s wrong with you, but you are dead.”

“I’m not,” you jumped in, growing frustrated, he couldn’t just brush off your question like that, as if he were talking to a child who wouldn’t understand, “Because I can think and feel and I’m eating ice-cream.”

He let out a low hum at your tone, almost seeming amused at your annoyance, which you didn’t quite appreciate.

“Do you know anything about the supernatural,” he questioned, eyes now lifting to look at you with the usual intensity, although his tone remained disinterested, “Parallel universes, anomalies, things that just shouldn’t be?”

You shook your head, remaining quiet and hoping he would continue to elaborate. He only sighed at your reaction, as if it was just more effort for him to explain this to you.

“You humans call me an anomaly because I’m not normal, but that’s by human standards. In reality anomalies are a common occurrence, they’re just things that scare you people,” he pointed his spoon at you in an almost accusatory way, “And then you form organisations to contain or destroy these ‘anomalies’ because you don’t understand how they do what they do. But it’s simply because all you humans can’t reach the level of knowledge that requires you to understand.”

You could only nod, doing your best to wrap your head around his words, unsure if you could really believe and trust him. Then again, you didn’t think you had much of a choice, it wasn’t as though someone else was going to explain the situation to you.

“But you,” he leant forward, pausing as if to study you for a moment, “You’re an anomaly even by my standards. So, why is that?”

You were sure the question is rhetorical so didn’t bother answering it, instead responding with a question of your own, “What makes me so special then? I didn’t ask for this.”

“As you said, you’re not really dead, not like the rest of them,” he stated after a brief silence, as if unsure himself. At first you were unsure of what he meant, but your mind was quick to jump back to the mindless masses in that studio. None of them looked dead, which seemed impossible but then again, so was everything else that had happened in the last few hours.

He spoke again before you could even get another word in, “Are you finished?”

Your attention returned to your half-eaten sundae, which had turned out to be rather disappointing. Besides, you weren’t sure how much of it you could stomach, not under these circumstances anyway. With a slight sigh you nodded, pushing the ice cream away from you. He stood, giving you an expectant look. Another sigh escaped your lips as you stood, pushing your chair in after you.

“We’re going back now,” he said bluntly, leading the way out of the ice cream store with you dragging your feet behind you, not bothering to protest. Yet, you still had some unanswered questions.

“What about these organisations, the ones that… that lock away anomalies, would they be able to see me?” you questioned, struggling to keep up with his pace. That didn’t last, he stopped suddenly, turning to face you before you had a chance to react, causing you to bounce right off his chest, stumbling back slightly, only to have him approach to a distance that was far too close for comfort.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked with a slight shrug, staring down at you, “You don’t belong to them.”

“I- I’m not your property,” you frowned at him, insulted that he should refer to you in such a manner, “I don’t belong to you either.”

“We’ll see,” was all he had to say on the matter, turning his back on you once more, “Are you going to come with me then, or would you rather find out what those people are like?”

He hooked his thumbs into his pockets, although you noticed his pace had slowed when he walked. You could have bet he was dying to look over his shoulder as you mulled over your options, just to make sure you hadn’t made another runner.

After a few seconds of thought you shook your head, jogging to catch up with him, not really feeling as though he had left you with much of a choice anyway.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you fell into step with him, watching as his gaze briefly darted over to you before focusing forwards again.

“Laughy McLaugherson,” he stated, for a few moments you weren’t sure if it was another one of his terrible jokes. You quickly realised he was being deadly serious.

“You don’t seem like much of a Laughy,” you muttered under your breath, which he seemed to hear anyway.

“You’d be surprised. It’s something of a stage name anyway,” he explained with a tone of disinterest, masking his annoyance at your comment.

“What’s your show about anyway?” you questioned, resisting the urge to further poke fun at his name, you were on thin ice already and you really did not want to test his limits.

“You’ll see,” he looked down at you out of the corner of his eye, although you weren’t sure if he was still annoyed at you or if the glare, he was giving you looked more like worry, “You don’t seem like you’d enjoy it… Perhaps we should wait until you’re used to this.”

“Whatever you say… Laughy.”

[elizabeth-234]

Chapter Ten

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18560182/chapters/44557171

Someone to Care

Chapter nine

“I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

His breath came in short bursts as he stared at the man in front of him. The man who for a long time Tony had counted as a friend, a brother. They had been through a lot together. As a team they had save the world and Tony never thought he would live to see the day where the Avengers fought on separate sides. This was actually happening. It was no longer apart of the dreams he woke up from breathless, damp sheets encompassing him. Tony had been convinced for the longest time that they would be able to talk it out. He had no real reason before to think that they couldn’t.

They were both reasonable men. Steve wasn’t a bad man and actually Tony looked up to him for his selflessness and honor. Both men wanted to do the right thing in the end and work toward the same goal. But somewhere, the journey toward that goal got derailed and now they were bound and set on different tracks. Presently on this evacuated airfield they were face to face, only a few feet apart but a world of feeling separated them. Tony imagined a giant moat coming between their two factions. He wished it were really there so no one would be able to cross over. He stared at the self-righteous face across from him and all the stress and worry he had been hording inside himself within the past couple of weeks came rushing forward. God that helmet was ridiculous.

Fear clouded over his body and like an addicting mist Tony inhaled deeply. Chaos surrounded him every way he glanced. He was flying toward Steve, coming down hard and slamming his friend’s head with his fist. Steve staggered and retaliated with his own hit. T’Challa and Barnes were in hand to hand combat. The kid was facing off against Wanda; holding her own. He even spotted Nat and Clint squaring off in the corner of his eye. Nothing sat right about this and his vision kept shaking and tunneling in. All right Tony, just focus. Make sure they don’t make it to the Quinjet, collect Barnes, report to Ross, and make sure your team is all right. Make sure everyone is all right.

Even though he was wearing his suit, his more protective skin, Tony could still feel the punches reverberate through his body. The contusions he got from Wanda’s parlor trick via cars earlier were still aching. One of Clint’s arrows came rushing toward him. There wasn’t enough time to react and it came into contact right above his reactor. A light exploded all around him and the pressure seized his body. A deafening sound followed after as more arrows started exploding all around him. His attempts at destroying each one were useless against the endless barrage coming his way. Clint was such a pain in the ass. He continued his assault on Clint who could run surprisingly fast, ducking between crates in hopes to impede Tony’s efforts.

Then the kid had a brilliant idea. Somehow Scott Lang, aka Ant-Man, as Friday reminded him, had become an even bigger pain in the ass, literally. The kid’s plan was crazy. But crazy enough that it just might work. Tony could see the webbing wrapped securely around the giant’s legs from his vantage point in the sky. Rhodey and him flew directly up Lang’s body and both hit him squarely in the jaw, snapping his neck back and causing Lang to loose balance. He could hear the kid’s infectious laughter from the coms and felt a smile creep its way onto his face. One more down.

The laughter bubbling up from his throat fizzled out as he watched the red and blue suit they had worked so hard on fly through the air and crash into a mound of crates. There was no movement that he could see coming from the splinters of wood and scattered trail of dirt. The anger from earlier melted away and was replaced by nothing. It wasn’t even a feeling of numbness, which made a person aware of it by the hole left from the curious absence of feeling. This nothing masked itself in a gentle manner, designed as relief until the person was trapped in an eternity of blankness.

Tony flew down, landing next to her fragile body. He frantically tossed some planks of wood away and oh so carefully wiped some dirt off of her shoulder. His hands hovered over the side of her face and on top of her hand; which was grabbing at her side. What if her spine had broken? If that was the case there was no way he could move her. It would be paramount to keep her still and could cause even more damaged if her body was jostled about. Carefully, without putting strain on any of her muscles Tony slipped her mask off of her head. The eyes that had barraged him with so many questions in the past were scrunched closed, unnaturally tight. Her lips were cracked and a tint of red congregated at the right corner. A strangled sound escaped them. He could see she was attempting to move onto her back. The red colored arms came up in a defensive manner, protecting her body and her eyes shot open when he rested his metal hands on them. The muscles strained underneath his hands as she fought him, punching and scratching in order to fend off the threat she perceived. God, what was he thinking? Bringing her into an actual battle. It was beside the point that she wasn’t actually supposed to be fighting.

He tried to speak to her, to bring her back to the present. “Kid, are you okay? Come on, Peyton. It’s Tony Stark.” Her hands continued their movements. Fear clouded over her face and rooted themselves in her widened eyes, their glassy quality reflecting the harsh sun above them.

His grip remained as gentle as it could be while restraining her and again tried to reach out, “Kid, you’ve got to calm down.” She didn’t stop moving and in fact his voice just spurred her, causing her to fight even harder. More pain graced her face as she moved her battered body. Tony wasn’t sure exactly how strong she actually was, but thought if she was working at full strength he wouldn’t have been able to stop her; suit or no. At least she wasn’t as severely injured as he thought because she was moving on her own.

“Peyton, you are okay. Look at me.” Her movements were becoming slow and held less momentum as she tired herself out. Sweat accumulated on her forehead and upper lip as her breaths became more laborious and shallow. After a few minutes her eyes started to clear and a glint of recognition crept into them. She looked at him with such an expression of relief, like he had just saved her. Tony swallowed and for a moment forced himself to stare into her eyes while she still wasn’t fully aware. To face everything that could have happened. He wasn’t a savior. It was his fault the kid was hurt. That she was there on the ground in pain. He turned away, unable to see into those eyes anymore. He needed to get away from here, couldn’t bear to face what he had done anymore.

He spoke firmly over the coms, “Get down here Happy. Yeah, it’s over. Gotta take the kid back. I can’t and I’m telling you to.”

A sound escaped the kid and he moved so he could look at her again. She stared for a second. Then smiled at him causing her lips to crack and blood to congeal in the crevices. A smile for him. She had no business looking at him, much less with a pleased expression. He had led her into this fight. Led a fifteen-year-old child into a fight with superhuman adults. All their provisions and safety measures didn’t mean shit when this was the result. “You promised me you wouldn’t fight, kid. I took you at your word.” He could see her trying to shrug, which caused his expression to sharpen. How could she be so nonchalant about it?

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark. I am, but I don’t regret it. You needed all the help you could get and I could give some, Sir. I wanted to.” She was so naive; Tony bet she didn’t even comprehend what could have occurred. Ant-Man hadn’t even been trying to knock her down at the moment and look at the results.  “Plus, I made that sick entrance. Did you see me take Mr. Captain America’s shield?” She had made a noise that kind of sounded like a laugh but just rattled around in her chest, turning into a violent cough. Her head thumped back to the ground and she winced at the feel of the gravel. He gathered her mask and silently lifted her head up a bit. Not an expert at hair he tried his best to gather it out of the way and tucked the folded mask where her head came into contact with the ground.

“Kid, I will never forget that. Friday got it all recorded and I will be watching it on repeat. You have. You should have listened to me.” No response. “Can you get up?” He held out his hand and prayed she could get up. Reaching in response, she grasped it tightly. So similar to how she did at the cafe where they first officially met. How long ago that day seemed and how shocked he had been upon meeting her. Over and over again she had proven to him not only that she was an amazing hero but also that she was just an all around good person. One that made Tony want to be better.

Over his coms he heard Rhodey yelling for backup and the sounds of the fight came through it, disintegrating the peaceful moment.  Reality came back to Tony and distracted as he was didn’t notice the slight flinch Peyton made when she stood up. He still had a fight to win. This wasn’t the end yet.

“Come on kid. Happy’s going to get you back home. I have to take care of some stuff here.” He made sure that she was standing and okay before blasting off. Not even letting himself look behind to make sure that she would find her way. Happy could find her, he told himself.

They were going after the Quinjet; they had to stop that plane. This was their last hope. He could feel the turbines pressure more closely now. The air gliding around his suit feeling heavier the faster he was going. Friday informed him that Falcon was on their tails but he wasn’t worried. Their main goal was in front of them. Almost there! Then he saw Rhodey falling from the sky. It wasn’t even a decision in Tony’s mind. He spun around and started flying full acceleration after him. Rhodey’s voice came over the coms, this time a heady panic was present. He pushed his suit even harder and he held his arms as tight as they could go against his body, trying to control the shaking.

Impact.

The earth spread out underneath the robust, silver suit, dust erupting from underneath and settling like a halo on the raised edges of the depression. Tony landed besides his friend leaving his own indentation and without thinking tore his friend’s mask off. Rhodey’s eyes were shut in what looked like a peaceful sleep. The only thing giving it away was the bruising around his nose and a trail of blood leaking from there and down the side of his face under his suit. The shaking in Tony’s hands became fiercer as he hastily gathered his vitals.

Heart rate was faint but still beating with major contusions and severe whiplash. And then the worst came. The words spinal cord injury appeared in front of him. A diagram came back showing some of the lumbar nerves highlighted; L2-L5 affected. Friday in her most clinical manner informed Tony of all the repercussions of such an injury could have. Paralysis was one of the words that Tony kept circling back to. Loss of function. Friday made sure the paramedics were on their way and he sat there, his friend in his arms.  

The doubts began to crowd around him, yelling their hateful words. What if he couldn’t fix this? He wasn’t god and there was only so much one man could do. What if this was the limit? What if this went too far and there was no way to help Rhodey? Oh, Rhodey. His best friend had always been there for him. Throughout it all Tony could always count on the man between the ups and downs, and there were a lot of downs. If nothing else in his life, this pushed him over the edge and he was sure his spot in hell was now cemented in stone.

Images came faster now and Tony’s worst fears came true before his eyes. A dark mahogany box sat at the end of an isle. People clad in black lined the pews and bowed their heads. The blurred images of two chocolate-eyed children, whom would never be, appeared before him. Their beautiful faces burning the accusations and sadness on the back of his eyes. Tony remained crouching in the dirt while the nameless children stared. Time seemed to slow for him as people rushed back and forth around the site. Medics came and with care pried his hands off of his friend and carried him from the ground. They put him on a stretcher and transported him out of his sight. Tony stayed there, kneeling in the dirt, arms at his side, fingers dragging in the earth. His arms empty now.

Tony’s mind was whirling not allowing the words to sink in past the tempest inside him. There was no way this could actually happen and to all people Rhodey. His Rhodey. What if it was worse than Friday had thought? He had to fix this, make sure Rhodey was okay. Tony could do anything. Fixing things was his thing. All he had to do was create another suit, another something to help his Rhodes out. He could do this. He had built his company up from something harmful. Had created the Iron Man suit inside a cave in the desert. If there was a way, Tony Stark could find it. A sob worked its way up his chest and droplets darkened the maroon color of the suit on his chest. He hadn’t realized it had started raining. His vision blurred and another sound came from him. As her wiped his face the metal on his gloves came back slick and he realized the droplets were coming from him. This was his entire fault.

He stood up then, the metal suit encasing his cracking knees and aching ribs, which both simultaneously protested the movement. His cheeks now tacky and dried up. First though, he needed to get to Rhodey and make sure he was going to be okay. Make sure he got the best medical attention. And then, once again, he had to get to work. The sky loomed closer as he fly upward. He programmed the autopilot and closed his eyes, seeking some peace from the giant war he had just created. He found none.

Thank you for reading! 

Chapter Eleven