#would a cipher trust another ex cipher.

[eorzeashan]

trying to think of a reversed IA/Hunter AU where they switch roles in the story but it's not...exactly working. food for thought, though

[year2000electronics]

Bill & Ford & A Book, Oh My!

DISCLAIMER: The Book of Bill has Bill Cipher serving as an unreliable narrator. If we go out trying to say something is "definitively a truth" or "definitively a lie", we're going to keep arguing about it until the heat death of the universe. This is just my own personal interpretation of the source material. If you don't agree, that's fine! Also TBOB spoilers abound.

So it's no secret that interest in the dynamic Bill & Ford have (enemies, platonic, romantic, formerly romantic, whichever way) has really skyrocketed since TBOB's release. Of course, there are the 'easy' culprits to point towards, with Mabel referring to Bill as 'being like a needy ex', and the whole O'Sadley's fiasco (Him literally crying over losing Ford and going "one Sixer, please"? Messy. Messy behavior. Still, I think it goes so much deeper than that.

Bill, being the unpredictable chaos entity that he is, also serves as the main antagonist for a show about family and having close bonds with each other. We don't really need to look into his inner psyche that much, because that's just not what he needed to be doing at that point in the cartoon. He's meant to be a way to divide the Pines, really. And a silly little guy. A silly little obstacle. So, naturally, when it came to Bill's arguably "closest" relationship to someone in the show (Ford), it was very easy to interpret it as Ford being tricked by a completely apathetic Bill, who was just using him as a rung on the ladder. And I do want to stress that Ford and Bill's physical actions remain fairly consistent throughout interpretations, and focusing on the fact that Bill badly hurt Ford is important, so if that's how you still see it, then fine by me! No harm no foul!

But I think the relationship, their story, their tragedy just becomes so much more interesting with the lens The Book of Bill has presented. We’re finally able to see Bill’s perspective as a “protagonist” of sorts in a medium where he’s not just something to defeat- and that’s something we’ve never gotten before, so it’s shedding light on an area we didn’t know about for sure! Again, Bill is lying to the character of "the reader", so we can't trust it as a completely unbiased source. But we can speculate on where the "truth" is between these lies.

First of all, Bill's backstory was that he destroyed his home dimension- we knew that already. But now, with the extra content we have about it, we see something interesting- that Bill's backstory mirrors Ford's to an uncanny degree.

Both of them champion their intelligence, although they highlight how it set them apart from others, as well as highlighting their own 'rare mutation/birth defect'.

Again, with this self-isolation already spurred on from their "weirdness", but also as a little aside, I would also like to highlight that Bill being 'ready to be one', looking up at the stars, striving to 'reach' them, is a shared motif he has with Ford, who is also associated with space, the stars, and reaching them.

Bill's 'trying-really-quick-to-convince-Ford' fantasy sequence even has him in a field of stars as a sort of "ultimate wish fulfilment". Remember, this is Bill showing Ford something he thinks would win Ford over, at least a little.

(And I'll take a quick time out for this train of thought to point out- hey! Bill admits he sought out most of his other victims, but Ford summoned him, and it took him by surprise! That adds a fun little layer of complexity to everything, don't you think? Another little layer of humanity for this whole mess- Bill didn't expertly seek out the 'perfect victim' or anything, it was just... luck. Some twist of fate.)

Anyways.

Obviously, the intro page to the 'Sixer' section has a ton of red flags galore (I mean, poor guy's literally depicted as a hapless puppet. C'mon, Bill. Not to mention the "OH BOY HE'S ALREADY SO ISOLATED, IT'S PERFECT" thing.). This guy is kind of a terrible companion no matter how you slice it. He's terrible to everyone close to him, because he's a deeply traumatized character who refuses to heal. BUT, the wording here is kinda deliciously intriguing to me. All of humanity is Bill's puppets, his future victims, but to me, it's clear that he holds a fondness for Ford. From "This is what a partner looks like", to "Me and Sixer could be the perfect team", to "He had what I always wanted- fingers" (drawn to his strangeness, maybe?), "He was destined for so much more", "I looked at his futures and giggled", and most stand-out to me, "Society calls these people freaks, I call them Henchmaniacs!"

Going back to the pre-Book of Bill era I was talking about, Bill's offers for Ford to join him were always in a sort of murky territory for interpretation. The first offer could definitely be read as mocking, with the line "WITH THAT SIX-FINGERED HAND, YOU'D FIT RIGHT IN WITH MY FREAKS!" in particular making it seem like Bill was only saying that to rub Ford's strangeness in his face, and the second offer to join Bill being under a new circumstance- that now Bill is desperate and believes Ford is the only one who can help him. But the Book of Bill mentions the idea of Ford becoming a Henchmaniac more than once, and also has Bill upset at losing Ford and claiming "he'll be back", as well as Bill seeming to use "freak" more like a badge of honour, and having previously complimented Ford's six fingers (In the Sixer intro page, he highlights Ford's fingers as a quality he likes, and in the pages about bodies, he states that "humans should have more fingers". To me, that first offer reads more now like Bill being genuine about finding Ford a place among his misfits. ...Although, the moment Ford says no, he does zap him into a statue. So. Y'know. He's still got issues.

(Yeah, again, red flag city. "Just hazing"? Bill, none of what you were doing over there was okay! You might have suppressed everything traumatic that happened to you, but that doesn't mean you can go around traumatizing everyone! Good lord.)

Bill has already been imply to like other characters because they remind him of himself. Pointing towards a connection with a character Bill DOESN'T have a weird undefinable ex-partner thing with... Mabel! Alex has says in multiple official media and interviews that Bill sees a lot of himself in Mabel, and essentially, that he thought Mabeland was the perfect prison because if HE liked all that awesome, uncontrolled chaos over any family or friends, why wouldn't SHE? And we see that again in TBOB. So basically, what I'm saying is that we have two characters to back up the fact that Bill seems gravitated towards humans or other living beings that he views as being 'like him'- beings he can relate to! So, y'know, what does that say about Bill and Ford?

There's also Bill's plans for the reader and "Weirdmageddon 2.0", where he portrays the reader as getting to, like, perch on his arm like a little bird and get their own little crown? And specifically calls out Ford for not going through with things?? Okay, Bill??

AND Ford not only being the only human mentioned on the list of people he "definitely doesn't miss so stop asking", but also having his own category? Alright, man.

Of course, another point to the 'Hey, maybe Bill can actually feel emotions towards humans besides complete and total apathy' club is this page here, which has ALSO been hotly debated! Certainly, we know he's telling the truth about his home dimension being destroyed, and we know that he's lying about the 'monster', but some interpret this scene as Bill not being remorseful at all and playing his reaction up to earn Ford's sympathy. And me, personally, I dunno if I agree. I feel like the specific inclusion of Bill "looking distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him" (Mirroring the fact that he keeps blacking out when thinking about all his large-scale massacres) and him "laughing joylessly", I think this sequence is meant to tell us that Bill actually is being vulnerable with Ford here, it's just hidden under layers and layers of deceit, whether towards himself or Ford or both.

And finally for my Book of Bill collection stuff, there's the stuff that could be read as more romantic in nature. In the 'love' section, Bill claims he doesn't love anyone, but, like-

Come on. You can disagree with me that it's Ford, but he does have exes. And he's clearly not over them. Shrimpy little liar. And then there's the fact that a lot of his hokey 'advice' is stuff he ends up directly doing to Ford.

These rats.

The Love Cage.

The Book of Bill really outlined all that in bold, but in my opinion, it was never an entirely new revelation! Bill seems to hold a preference for Ford over other humans in the show. He shows up in Ford's dreams just to say hi, tease him, and gloat (Mabelcorn) unlike the other two dream appearances he's made (Dreamscaperers, Sock Opera) which were exclusively for business purposes. Unlike every other character that gets exclusively one nickname for their zodiac sign, Ford gets multiple (Fordsy, IQ, Sixer, smart guy, brainiac, the list goes on). Bill asks Ford to join him TWICE, whereas anyone else who tries gets their face rearranged, put in a cage and made to dance, frozen in stone, etc etc. And finally, I think, the most emblematic of Bill's weird, specific relationship with Ford, is that whereas everybody else gets turned into stone, Ford got turned into gold.

Which kinda sums up their whole thing up pretty well? Bill gave him special treatment by turning him into a golden statue (similar to yellow ha ha), always holding him close, but, like... Dude. You still kidnapped a man and turned him into a statue and then threatened to kill his niece and nephew. I don't think it will change his opinion on you if he's the Most Pampered Hostage, Actually. I just don't think that we need to explore the relationships between characters as simply "Well, this character hurt the other one, so we shouldn't really think about why or what they feel personally, because what they did was bad, so there".

Bill & Ford interest me because they're a tragedy in motion. We can see that Bill and Ford mirror each other in a multitude of ways, and we can see that they both do have positive feelings towards each other at the time they meet, and we see that Bill very desperately wants Ford to be just like him in the unhealthy ways; the ways that make Bill destroy entire universes and compartmentalize it all, because maybe then, he can finally have the companionship he so deeply aches for. Bill and Ford both had tough, lonely upbringings, but Ford moved on from that "I don't need you" mentality. That's what saved him. Bill didn't, and that's what got him where he was in the end. I feel like that's just so much more interesting than Bill just being a flat entity that makes abuse Happen to Ford, just as another Event in his life. I mean, isn't it just SO much more interesting that Ford humanizes Bill, in a way? That Ford makes him- in Bill's own words- "sentimental"? That a chaotic dream demon has regrets and loves and favourites and connections? It's the same thing with Fiddleford & Ford, although, obviously, to a MUCH lesser extent than Bill & Ford. But you get what I mean, right? You know that Fiddleford and Ford are going to undo each other in the end, and the path to that downfall is... it's telling a story! I like the story of it all! I think that's what I've been invested in and intrigued by all these years- the story, the tragedy of Bill and Ford. No matter what form it takes.

(Plus, as tumblr user fordtato pointed out in their own essay (not tagging because this post is messy enough as is oh god), hey, Ford now has two incredibly queer-coded narratives, with one of them being about how he recovered and was able to heal from an abusive relationship. And, well, I think that's just neat.)

Anyways, that's the end of the post. Thanks for reading this long!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Giving Bill Cipher the princess treatment prompt or hc's? (Bill totally isn't threatening Reader's entire family if they don't princess carry him and call him babygirl) I love how you write Bill by the way!

Warning: unhealthy relationship stuff and threats from bill.

After everything that went down with sixer and his supposed ‘betrayal’ bill didn’t think he’d find an another puppet companion so soon until one day he came across poor unfortunate you.

Some half baked sob stories of his origins and looking through his fingers at you to make sure you were feeling sympathy for him later, and you were effectively under his thumb by the end of the week. The quickest he’s ever manipulated someone into feeling sorry for him yet!

Now you were stuck forced to carry him in your arms whenever he wished and calling him…baby girl…why you never bothered to ask as whenever you did raise things into question with Bill it usual turns out something like this:

You: don’t you think that’s a little extreme?

Bill: and here I thought you were suppose to be supportive of my dreams and aspirations. Oh well I guess you didn’t need your family that much if you’re quick to question me-

You: No! It’s a brilliant plan! No flaws at all! You’re so smart…baby girl…

Bill: *smirks when you fall back in line* good now I demand to be carried in your arms *he gives you grabby hands*

You: *sigh* yes baby girl *proceeds to pick him up and carry him for the rest of the day*

You’d even have to call Bill baby girl when your mad unless you wanted the corpses of your family to be piled up on your front door!

It was ridiculous but what could you do when stuck in a less than ideal relationship with a demonic triangle who could bring you to heel with a simple click of his fingers? You were doomed to be his servant for the sake of your family and even if you did go to anyone about it, who’d believe you? You’d be the new old man Mcgucket for certain.

So you only sigh and do whatever Bill wanted in hopes it will satisfy him enough to leave your family alone, even if it was brief.

The worst case scenario would be If bill saw that you weren’t being enthusiastic in your affection towards him, then that would be a harder thing to dig your way out of. It didn’t matter whether you were tired mentally or physically, if Bill wanted to be carried in your arms he will want you to do so with a complicit smile on your face.

Bill: you don’t look happy to be carrying me? *squints his eye*

You: *quickly puts on a fake smile* what?! I’m more than happy to carry my baby girl! It’s the only highlight of my day, nothing could ever compete with spending time with my baby girl!

Bill: good! For a second there I thought you’d have to be attending a family members funeral for a moment. Haha guess I must’ve been seeing things, right? *he stares uncomfortably at you*

You: yeah because how could I ever show you any other emotion other than happiness and love. *internally dying*

Bill: also don’t over compliment me, it makes you look clingy and I don’t like clingy.

You internally: as if you aren’t clingy yourself you fucking discarded sentient Dorito chip.

It’s better to keep playing his game until he inevitably grows bored of you, and god forbid if you ever encounter Stanford Pines ever, your family is certain for destruction if Bill caught you talking to his traitorous ex partner. (Potential for Stanford x reader?)

Needles to say if you were to ever be granted the ability to time travel, you’d go back and warn yourself to not trust Bill Cipher, not if you want your family’s blood on your hands just because you didn’t call him Babygirl first thing in the morning.

You: morning bi-

Bill: whichever family member your love the most will die in 5 seconds if you don’t correct yourself sweetie.

You: morning babygirl, what should we do today?

Bill: *pats you on the shoulder* that wasn’t so hard was it? And I don’t feel like doing anything that requires me to part from you for suspicious periods of time incase you do something I don’t like. *stares at you menacingly*

You: good choice! All day with my babygirl? I’m so lucky…so extremely….lucky. *looks over at the photo of your family and friends* blessed even…

Bill: you sure are! Now why don’t you carry me! *grabby hands 2.0*

[netherator-rp]

Sillies you can start shit with any time I'm awake, just be sure to specify or I'm calling the switchboard operator and she's been enjoying her retirement since she lost her job to the automatic telephone exchange. Anyways here they are!

John, my main guy, collects orphans like the batman istg, half demon, chill, son of the current king of hell, though he'd never mention it unless you brought it up first since he really doesn't care for publicity and values his privacy. Physical description:≈5'7"(he's still growing and doesn't know when it'll stop due to his dad being like 9ft. tall) usually wearing a red hoodie, has dragonlike wings that are a little more than 6ft. accross when fully outstretched, he also has a tail that fits the stereotypical image of a devil with the triangle end, both the tail and wings are a dark red with the membrane of the wings being more yellowish, he's got hair that's fairly well kept and is a bit shorter than shoulder length, also I forgot to mention he wears jeans mostly and a comfy pair of sneakers (bro is straight up inaudible when walking). He/him. He's 15. Also bisexual.

Noah, @/the-boat-man (to those of the in-universe internet) , energetic as he is a 13-year-old kid. Learning magic from John. significantly messier hair and typically wears a blue long-sleeved shirt with a poorly fitting pair of jeans because he doesn't give a crap. He's like 5'4" but will grow quite a bit before adulthood to like 5'10". Parents are MIA but he lives in John's place so it's fiiinee. (He actually doesn't know his parents are missing as he basically moved into living with John because it was just a chiller place to be)(his parents don't fight or anything he just likes hanging with John and the parents didn't disapprove because they trust John with their kid's life). As far as he's aware it cares he's straight.

Joseph. Fucking green. Went off to live on an unknown island in the tropics 30 years and hasn't been seen since. Typically wears a tank-top and shorts. His ears are pierced and it's not uncommon for him to be wearing his favorite mushroom earrings. Can photosynthesize. Is into botany. Like 6'2". Asexual, he/they. Looks 20, is likely in his 60's. Genetic modification is another hobby of his (it's why he's green and lookin' young). He's got some naturally curly hair that rarely goes beyond a finger's length.

Nevik, any pronouns, prefers they/them, likes xe/xem, chill with he/him, and while basically no-one ever calls them by it doesn't mind she/her, no fucks givin about gender, panromantic demisexual, 97 but for his species that's barely more than the equivalent of 17, alien that actually bothered to learn English. Telepathic, can breathe underwater. He looks almost like a humanoid axalotl with pinkish skin. Cold-blooded (biologically I mean. they're a pretty friendly dude). planet is called Xotalia. Their entire species is entirely genderless and doesn't even have biological sexes.

Capt. Pike Alford, he/him. Straight as can be. 6 foot guy. 43 100+ years in the future in a world of spaceships and asteroid mining.(same universe but most of these guys are already gone) Also occasionally researchers will join aboard his ship for a couple weeks to do do stuff to figure out the development of life or some shit he doesn't care he's just happy to get a small share of the grant money but stays courteous and helps when he can with the research.

Bill, @/a-solved-cipher to those on the internet (I use the handle for storage OOC), living drawing in appearance, he/him and gay. John's ex boyfriend. pretty powerful magic user, especially illusions. Demon. Rich by exploiting the labor of clones of himself, but not filthy rich. Does not age. He's 16 and has yet to confront the fact that he will outlive everyone he currently knows.

Hailey Anona, a genderfluid shapeshifter who would melodramatically fake her death if you asked anything along the lines of what her true form is. he uses any pronouns and encourages anyone and everyone to switch them up as frequently as possible. its around 16 or 17 and has had a very intense life up until the past year or so when they got out of a particularly bad situation and has been hanging around John's "estate" doing odd jobs to feel useful. qwe usually looks like and orange and white cat-like humanoid with wings like an angel's but this is liable to change frequently.

[real-gifted-chaos]

Furious With The World (Pt 2)

tags: @leighham24 @chynagirl13

!Paring! Deckard Shaw x Fem! Reader, Dominic Toretto x Sister! reader, Mia Toretto x Sister! reader, Jakob Toretto x Sister! reader !Warnings! Language

Here in the flesh, the small part of the star-shaped device in your tiny hands as if you were holding up the world. Carefully you placed the device in the bulletproof glass department, watched the glass slowly close, and took affection of the device from afar. It was beautiful. The glowing red from the small opened parts of the device was memorizing. You could hear faint footsteps approach you but you relaxed, realizing the presence wasn't a threat. "Beautiful isn't she?" Cipher's soft voice aired. She also began to stare at the small piece of the device, her eyes glistening with lust and excitement. She has come to realize that every one of her counters with the Toretto's has always failed, but she had faith in this relationship with you. She believed that you are the true Toretto. "I'll say." "Pilot says we land in fifteen. Should we go over the plan again?" Finally removing your eyes from the device, you looked at her and began walking to another part of the jet with your eyebrow raised. "Why would we need to go over the plan again?" "Maybe 'cause you just saw your family. And trust me, I know how it corrupts one's mind." "We land, we do the plan, and we move on to the next. Do not question my ability to work ever because some family who had never once seen me as a part of it. That is your only warning." You walked out of the room, never once looking back at Cipher and decided to chill in the control room until you landed. Though you would never admit it out loud, Cipher was right. Your mind, for the first time had been clouded. It wasn't because you saw your ex-family, no, if they didn't care about you then you didn't care about him. It was because you meet his eye. You never thought you'd see him again, but then it happened and you didn't know how to feel. The sound of your phone ringing knocked you out of your thoughts. Swiftly you removed the phone from your pocket and searched the caller ID before answering. "Hey, Deck. How's my little man?" You said with a wide smile, although he couldn't see it. He always made your heart melt. You found your truest happiness with him and it was expected. "I'm not little anymore, mom" "I was actually talking about my other son, Deck. You know the one that's four years old named Gustavo. How are you guys?" "We miss you. How much longer do we have to stay at uncle James's?" "Not that much longer. I'll be back in three or four days and when I get back I'll take you to your favorite place kiddo." "Fine. But can you tell Uncle James to stop singing in the shower? He can't sing and it's scaring away my friends online. It even made Stavo cry." "Deckard, that is not very nice." Eli walked in with a tablet in one of his hands and flipping a small knife repeatedly in the other. He was about to say something before you held your finger up and gestured towards your phone, quietly telling him that you were on a call. "Who's that?" He nearly whispered with his eyebrow raised. You smirked at him and mouthed your son's name while responding to your son's blabbing on the other side of the phone. "Is that Uncle Eli?" "Yes, baby. Wanna say hi?" "Is he busy?" Eli took the phone from your hands and put it on speaker so you both could hear. With a wide smile on his face, he responded; "I'm never too busy for you Deck. You're my man." "Since I'm your man, can you come pick me up from Uncle James's?" "Sorry bud, your mom needs you there for a while longer. We'll be back soon, until then you and brother be good for Uncle James for me." "Yeah, whatever. We have to get ready for school. We love you both." "I love you guys too, baby. Be good and turn in your work." "I'll try." "Alright, bye Deck. Say bye to Stavo for me." "Okay." The line went dead seconds later but the smile remained on your face. Hearing your son's voice just made any terrible day better. "A fifteen-year-old and a four-year-old on your hands, how do you handle that?" "Well with your help, I manage." "You ready for this mission?" "Let's wrap this up so we can go home to my sons." "That sounds like a plan."

[swtorpadawan]

Tell us about Tali

Send me the name of one of my Muses you want to learn more about, and I’ll ramble about them.

Thank you for the ask!

Tali is my main OC agent in the Sarnova, Rhi'khi and Adas Legacies, with some divergences for each.

So - first thing - Laht'al'ikran - aka Tali - aka Cipher Nine - is serving the Empire as part of the Chiss Ascendancy's support. She was talented enough to make a good operative while at the same time being young enough to adjust to life in the Sith Empire.

Her first loyalty is to her people. She was particularly close to her adopted sister, Huziq. (More on her another time.)

Second - although she keeps her mouth shut, she notes every act of bigotry by Imperials towards non-humans. She has no illusions about what kind of place the Empire is.

Third - she has a partner - Cipher Ten. Brehn Urmond.

The two of them are paired together on Hutta, then progress together throughout the conflict with the Eagle's network and ultimately confronting Darth Jadus.

Along that path, they learn grudging respect for each other, and later legitimate friendship.

They feigned a relationship together to justify their 'defection' to Ardun Kothe. (Imperial Intelligence would not approve of them being in a relationship.) Honestly, they didn't have to feign too hard.

When the Castellan Restraints come into play, it pushes them closer together. Ultimately they find solace in each other's arms.

Unfortunately, Hunter is more than willing to use their relationship against them.

The abuses the two agents suffer at Hunter's hands for his/her own amusement were horrific.

In the Sarnova and Rhi'khi legacies, Tali's story follows the class story resonably closely. (More on that another time.)

But in the Adas Legacy...

Someone learns about Tali's conditioning. Someone offers her - and Brehn - a way out.

After everything she's been through, she isn't exactly eager to trust a Jedi, or even an ex-Jedi.

But Teeanah Malvern has a way with people.

Deep down, Tali knows she's traded one leash for another. Taeree's powers of persuasion are subtle and insidious. She can make people want to serve her.

But - unlike everyone else - she promises Tali a world where she and Brehn can be together.

(Plus she gets revenge on Hunter.)

Thanks for the ask!

[paragonevil]

@the-trxangle-guy asked: “COLOR ME CURIOUS, BUT YOU’VE MET SOME OF MY ALTERNATES BEFORE HAVEN’T YOU? WHAT WERE THOSE OTHER HANSOME DEVILS LIKE? I’M NOT TRYING TO START A DEAL OR ANYTHING, JUST WONDERING!”

“I was wondering when you’d ask me about them. I’ve met so many of them at this point that I’ve begun to lose count of them all,” and that wasn’t an exaggeration, either. Literally that many had passed under his awareness over the years, most of which were only around for one or two remarks before they’d moved onto simpler prospects than trifling with him was proving to be.

But then there were others like this Bill who floated in front of him, who had proven far more persistent and annoying than the others. These were the Bills that interfered in things that weren’t their business — and made the mistake of encroaching on Aku’s cosmic territory. But unlike some of his other duplicates, at least this Bill had the good sense to not push too hard on his limits. So far. It remained to be seen if that would be the trend going forward, now that Aku had given him Demongo’s services. But for both their sakes, Aku’s and Bill’s, he certainly hoped so. The last thing he wanted was to wage an unnecessary war if he didn’t have to. What a perfect waste of resources that would be, when they both — to a limited extent — sought the same goals.

“Most of your... ‘alternates’ didn’t get very far with me. Safe to say, I think I was more than they could handle. They couldn’t budge me with their deals, such that they were. In fact, you’re the only one I’ve ever made a deal with up to this point, if my memory serves correct... Though, there was another that came close.” Quitters, all those that had given up before even getting started with him... Difficult prospects were often the most worthwhile in Aku’s opinion! But he’s not complaining that most of those other Bills learned their lesson and backed off before he truly did something regrettable.

He’s not inclined to reveal the circumstances of that other deal with the Bill that had come before. Far be it for him to divulge that he’d experienced such emotional pain that he’d wanted to stop feeling anything at all, and had very nearly taken up that other Bill on their offer to take his emotions. The last thing he wanted was for THIS Bill to get the wrong idea — that he could suggest such a deal as the one with Morty. He didn’t trust him with the knowledge of such weakness, yet.

“There was also one who was my servant, for a time. Come to think of it, I do not know where he went... I should probably be a little more concerned for his whereabouts than I actually am. He’ll turn up eventually, I am sure.”

“But forget about him... Let’s discuss the ONLY Bill Cipher who is of real concern to me. MY BILL was the most memorable of your alternates. The only Bill I’ve ever respected as my equal. I would even go so far as to consider him a member of my family.”

“He was my best friend. One of the very few beings I would trust with my life. He taught me many valuable lessons... most of which having to do with humility and allowing myself to forge bonds with others. He’s the one who encouraged me to... work on myself, so to speak. Get therapy to address my emotional shortcomings, as he did. And to work on my relationship with... my ex-fiancé back when we were having problems. Be better towards my daughter. Furthermore, Bill and his husband did me a great favor when they watched after Morty during a difficult time in my failing relationship with Rick.”

He drifted off for a moment, apparently dwelling on his memories of that other Bill from so long ago. He truly missed him. When would he see him again? He hoped it would be sooner, rather than later. It’s been so long since he’d felt such a bond with somebody; felt that kind of trust.

After a moment, he seemed to remember himself, and straightened up with a characteristic, contemptuous sneer.

“Safe to say, you are NOTHING like him. You WISH you could be even HALF the man he was!”

Again, he’s not telling the full story here. He’d felt a small twinge of attraction for this other Bill, though he hadn’t pushed the matter whatsoever at the time. THAT Bill had a partner, and one that he loved very much. Far be it for Aku to encroach on what was a happy relationship, when he... you know. ACTUALLY RESPECTED the boundaries of the parties involved. For a change. Anyone less than a close friend would surely have had to deal with him inserting himself in the relationship. What a great guy Aku is... being considerate for a friend.

“You are only the most recent in a long line of alternates that have come before you. Many of whom were hardly worth my time. You will have to do much if you wish to earn my favor, given how those who came before you proved so... taxing on my patience.” Not to mention the tall order of measuring up to the impression his best friend had left on him. No other Bill Aku had met up to this point could hope to hold a candle to him, in his opinion.

[dingoat]

HEY. I wanna know more about this alternative universe plot! Can you summarize what it is, what's going on it, and specifically who these ~tortured love birds~ are?? Only if that's fun for you. I'm curious!!

HEY MY DAWG

So the whole thing is really the brainchild of @askshivanulegacy who as far as I can tell has a PhD in Angst Narratives majoring in Sci Fi and Magic, and had concocted an alternate Star Wars universe where the Empire’s Ministry of Intelligence (aka the bad guy spy club) developed a procedure that effectively turns their top agents into werebeasts, all the better to serve the Empire and go about their evil spying business. In this universe, their main OC - one Cipher Agent Omega Blakk - is thus a werefox, specialising in stealth operations, loyal to his cause to a painful degree.

NOW, we’d chatted OOC back and forth for a while because hey, I guess at some point it became obvious that I like werewolves and star wars too (who knew, weird right?), and through a bit of silly back-and-forth we let our main characters get to know one another in the ‘canon’ universe. Eventually I sent a single fateful writing prompt one fine October day, from which a little drabble was born. And we loved it, and decided to keep going with it, and it… kept going, and going, and backstory kept getting filled in and possible futures kept getting screamed about, and now we’re in so deep and loving every minute of it hahaha.

So that’s where it came from OOC! Narrative wise, holy heck, I could go on forever, but I’ll try to be brief for everyone’s sake. Actually I’m gonna stick the rest behind a READ MORE because I get the feeling my attempt at brief isn’t going to be very brief at all!

So Blakk is a loyal Imperial werefox spy, and my girl Ahuska is a werewolf. SHE was afflicted with her condition some time earlier, being stolen away as part of a secret Imperial military project that basically turned civilians into sleeper soldiers/Jedi killers. They have their memory messed with so that they don’t remember a thing about their time as animals, and the full moon is their trigger. So every now and again she’d be ‘placed somewhere by work’, not realising that at night she’d go off on a murderous rampage after being strategically positioned to take down a target, and then return to life as usual none the wiser. But the project messed up baaad and was shut down, with all subjects terminated; except Ahuska, who was rescued by ex-Agent Nines (one of @humanrevolt‘s characters, written by me in this au with blessings!) in the nick of time. She lived and traveled with Nines, who revealed her condition to her but not all the details; Ahuska felt obligated to stay with her, with the promise that Nines would help resolve her memory issues and let her gain control, meanwhile Nines had the security of a monster wolf who could help her with her own agenda. (At one point Ahuska met one of Nines’ old comrades and started crushing hard, oh no.)

Fast forward to the drabble written above that started this whole mess; one night, transformed, the werewolf meets the werefox. Blakk has had a malfunction with his cybernetic implant that controls his shapeshifts and winds up stuck as a fox with an injured leg; Ahuska protects him as a wolf and then wakes the next morning as a Bothan. He knows exactly what she is, she thinks she has a cute wounded fox to tend to. Things are adorable and awkward and innocent, then bit by bit things are revealed and shared and miscommunicated. Blakk accidentally leads Imperial soldiers to Ahuska and her crew; there’s a showdown after which he’s re-captured, now known to them as an Imperial Agent, and she feels horribly betrayed and confused. Nines tries to torture him for information and at first Ahuska is ordered to help but then her werewolf half takes over (knowing instinctively that what they’re doing is wrong), and she turns on her crew. She’s eventually subdued (gassed!), Nines tortures Blakk further (with Ahuska shut away this time) and he manages to antagonise her enough that she slips up, he makes a run for it, and takes Ahuska hostage into an escape pod to make his getaway.

THEN THERE’S A LOT MORE ANGST and mistrust and hating one another while they stumble through a swamp with one set of clothes between them. But every time one storms off, the other eventually comes to find them, and bit by bit they work through their differences and misgivings and realise neither ever actually wanted to hurt the other. Shaky trust starts to build again, but Blakk’s injured arm (between being caught in a trap, having shapeshifting malfunctions, and being flat out tortured) develops a hideous infection and he becomes deathly ill. Still miles from any settlement, Ahuska finds herself hopelessly worried and desperate to help him and without having a clue what she’s doing, manages to connect to him and heal him through the Force, and without realising it they develop a Force-bond. By the time they make their way out of the swamp, they trust one another, and matter to one another, and their eventual parting to resume their totally incompatible lives is heartbreaking.

When Nines wants to continue her persuit of the fox-Agent who is clearly her new nemesis, but Ahuska tries to stop her and insist that he won’t hurt them, Nines is livid and kinda loses it, thinking she’s being controlled somehow. Ahuska realises she can’t stay with Nines any more if she wants to maintain any sort of personal freedom, and makes her escape.

Blakk, meanwhile, has been reassigned to a new handler, (as his previous Watcher had been killed in the original altercation courtesy of the Dice Gods). I had the dubious honour of creating the New Watcher who rapidly evolved from a generic Imperial Bad Guy into a truly terrible, absolutely nasty piece of work, a manipulative control freak with depraved appetites and horribly unconventional training methods.

At this point, Ahuska and Blakk can only see one another when they dream, through their Force Bond, and those sequences are beautiful and magical and full of love (which they’ve finally admitted to one another) and hope (mostly, maybe some nightmares and seeping in of waking-world problems), where they’re exploring their feelings and one another and even what it means to trust and know their animal selves. Problem is, while Ahuska, very in tune with the Force (if unknowing), can remember everything that happens in their dreams, using them as fuel to push on through a world that is suddenly otherwise huge and lonely and dangerous, Blakk’s Force connection is broken and stunted and he doesn’t remember a thing once he wakes. He’s developing a relationship that he spends more than half his life unaware of, and in his waking life he’s being slowly but surely molded into Watcher Five’s perfect, obedient, unquestioningly loyal little fox-Agent-pet.

SO AS YOU CAN IMAGINE there is an AWFUL LOT of terrible times and amazing times in store, and honestly all that up there doesn’t even come close to touching on everything that’s been going on and fleshing out the world around them. I did my best to just whittle it down to enough basics to given an idea of just what exactly our poor characters have been through, and I hope it’s not too rambling ahaha. I’m sure it’s more than you needed to know but I will ALWAYS WELCOME MORE QUESTIONS as I’m sure will @askshivanulegacy (yo feel free to elaborate on any points here, I mean I haven’t even given Thirteen a look in 8) ) so ahhhhh yes. Ahh. I’m also NOT GONNA PROOF READ THIS so sorry if it’s awkward as hell to read I’M TIRED XD XD

It is specatcular fun and I’m so glad we decided to just run with it!

[refractionrp]

LOADING DATA . . .                                                                                              YEON SUBIN ( mintchoco ) the LITTLE FOX                                57q.09.100-802.exe / 32. 04. 02 - 57. 05. 26                                eternally 24

life before death

spring day. a corpse is buried beneath that beautiful cherry blossom tree.

yeon subin was born on april 2nd, 2032. cradled by vivid pink cherry blossoms that greeted her birth, subin lived as she died, her breaths numbered by the heartbeat that skipped irregularly in her chest - an offbeat metronome counting every beat.

her parents were loving, nurturing: her father, an IT technician, her mother, a schoolteacher. together with her younger sister, they make the picture-perfect family.

almost.

subin grew with complications with her lungs. she adjusted to living with a weak constitution – quick to get sick, slow to recover, and all the accompanying cliches. sports were off-limit after an asthma attack in the middle of the soccer field in middle school, but she didn’t mind too much. however, the larger subin grew, the less oxygen she could supply to all parts of her body. with limited access to the outdoors and other activities that other kids her age participated in, subin turned inwards, quiet and subdued. plagued with guilt, she watched her sister drift away from their family, bitter at the parents who dotted on fragile little subin and only broken little subin.

(subin would never forget the venom dripping from her sister’s voice.)

guilty, lonely, sad. she spent her days looking at the falling cherry blossoms, the same ones that turned a bright crimson in the glint of the setting sun. summer nights. what a strange thing! to be alive.

mintleaf.

the alias of an underworld prankster, mintleaf floated in the forums and dark webs, a name with no strings attached. in the parallel world of black screens, mintleaf was powerful - online anonymity, her protective veil, and the lines of code her magic spells. her father had come home with a laptop on her twelfth birthday, and subin was immediately entranced. what was only supposed to act as a temporary haven engulfed her entire world; she had dove past the surface of videos and games in a matter of months, and headed deeper into the black ocean of increasingly dark content. physical strength no longer had meaning in her new reality. and for the first time in her life, subin felt strong.

the confidence she built in the night pushed forth and blossomed in the day. subin entered high school with a new group of friends, sociable and fun, and her teachers praised her attentiveness. poor health continued to hound her, but it no longer towered her as it had in the past. subin was charming as she was unpredictable, equipped with a quick mind and an even quicker tongue. subin felt on top of the world.

and she was.

almost.

autumn sun. it starts as soon as it ends.

too much of a good thing quickly becomes bad. she’s expelled in her final year of high school. it was a careless mistake, a slip-up that she could have never accounted for. because who would expect her own sister would betray her?

(how foolish of her to leave a harddrive unencrypted, lying so haphazardly in her room for anyone to take.)

changing grades, hacking emails, falsifying identification and so much more. called in front of the grand jury of aghast parents, fuming administrations, and mute peers, subin kept her head held high. the principal had looked at her and asked: how do you plead?

guilty, i guess?

the wit was not appreciated by anyone but herself.

much like a scale, where one side goes up, the other goes down: subin spiraled, mintleaf uplifted. night became day as she scoured forums to master her trade. unwilling, and unable, to continue higher education, subin threw herself into hacktivism. while none of her viral attacks surpassed more than the occasional aggravating DDoS attack, it was enough for her name to solidify in the anonymous community.

meanwhile, her identity as a bright young student quickly dimmed. subin, high school drop-out, worked until the end in the neighborhood convenience store to appease her parents in hopes of lessening their suffocating disappointment.

and then it happened.

winter moon. like a thick thorn tree forest

subin kept a journal at this point in her life. not in a written notebook, but through medical records:      may 19. viral respiratory infection.    august 04. fever.    december 29. pulmonary fibrosis. terminal.

the medication she took for her weak heart and worsening lungs had finally come to a terminal decree. pulmonary fibrosis, the doctor had said, at best, three years.

a disease rare in someone so young as her, and yet she had the luck of the draw. Scar tissues continued to fester and spread in her lungs, and eventually, her lungs would no longer sufficiently supply her body with the necessary oxygen. her muscles atrophied, and her stamina dropped.

the month after the initial diagnosis passed in a blur: her mother became her caretaker, the new medication made her feel awful, and all the accompanying things that came with a terminal illness. month two culminated in psychological decay: depression, guilt, regret. she withdrew from everyone around her, playing the part of the strong victim for only her immediate family.

month three, the turning point. the hacking forum she visited had decided on a new target. the hacktivists there, crusaders for truth and deeply against afterlife had their eyes set on securing the downfall of AFTpex. they wanted an insider, someone they could trust, someone that would have the tools and intelligence to supply them with information needed to take the company down from the inside-out.

and what better than anonymous mintleaf?

the end became the beginning as subin took on her role as the spy. she studied what she could of the company, researching from her own limited time, and compiling information into the forum for them to transmit to her. the details would be ironed out during the period of her death, but she trusted the unknown hackers to keep their end of the deal. mintleaf would infiltrate, her mind donated to afterlife for a worthy cause.

her parents agreed immediately, eager to give their daughter a chance at life she had been denied since birth. her sister stayed quiet.

subin lived for another year. her death was a quiet affair, almost poetic really. she was laid to rest under the same cherry blossoms that greeted her in the beginning, the vivid pink petals turned a soft red as they fluttered down to the ground.

life after death

spring, again. what do the cherry blossoms call to mind?

like a phoenix rising from the ashes, subin is reborn. The illness that plagued in her life no longer existed in death, and the sickness that dug deep into her bones had been lifted from her. In order to protect her family and to avoid any possible linkage back to mintleaf and her true identity, subin uses the alias “lee sujin” when introducing herself. nevertheless, she never parts with her name completely. (it’s much too important.)

subin continues to number her days. as a relatively new person in afterlife, subin usually wanders, more often lost than found in the vast space. examining everything and anything for a manipulable weakness, she takes notes with paper and pen in a special cipher to avoid detection. any people of interest are marked as well. the time she spends besides research is spent on a never ending bucket list she had crafted at the time of death. they’re sort of silly things really: sneaking out of the house, sky jumping, designing a video game, all things she had been denied by either her parents or from her lack of endurance. however, as she is no longer burdened with decaying lungs, subin has taken up exercise, trying to bring up the strength of her simulated body.

[networkofthecorrupted]

Meet the Ex-Hero(in)es:

And coming to Cyber Attack as well.

💰Scrooge McDuck

-Struts towards the Headquarters stoically and upon seeing Darkwing, both will be like, “Hey! We’ve met each other before!”. He will be in charge of handling the business side of the Heroes Headquarters, which includes dealing with bills, maintaining the economy of the City, and count money(as always).

🔮Magica de Spell

-Unless if Scrooge already arrived, she will receive a whack on the head. If not, she will appear in a poof of purple smoke and cackle wickedly(or both). Maleficent would have a curious demeanor to this new sorceress and be interested at Magica’s mastery of magic. They would also enjoy “tea time” with each other.

🤖Gizmoduck

-Unleashing his signature catchphrase and holler, “Never fear! I am GIZMODUCK!”(What he would also say when one of his comrades is being beaten down by Creeps). Unfortunaley, Darkwing Duck would be heavily pissed at his arrival, and will do anything to get rid of him, only to get in trouble by the Hero Command.

💣Negaduck

-Will arrive during a Halloween event, and bursting the door open, he begins to rev his chainsaw(to scare the Heroes), only to get kicked in the beak by his arch-nemesis, Darkwing Duck. He is soon to be an intimidating leader of the Villain Hub, demoting Hades to second-in-Command.

Unless if Jafar comes in, both the mallard and demigod will be demoted to co-dragons.

Speaking of Hades, the two will get into a fiery and stressful relationship with each other. Negaduck is also carefully watched by Darkwing, due to the Hero Command fearing Negs’ destructive personality.

⭐️Duck Avenger/Donald Duck

-Will praise himself to FINALLY shine in another media. Spotting Stitch, DA will dash over and inspect the “cute and weird alien”. He will also hang out with Mickey and Goofy(mostly in his civilian identity).

✨Bill Cipher

-As a top prankster of the Heroes Headquarters, despite being a member of the Villain Hub, he sometimes makes a deal with Vanellope and Dash to commit a prank spree. The duo shouldn’t trust him, because his pranks make Vanellope and Dash end up in deep trouble then the duo’s regular pranks. Randall sometimes partners up with him.

And don’t call him a ‘Floating Dorito’: the consequences can be fatally weird.

🔎Agent P

-Accompanies Darkwing Duck, the ZPD, Finn and Holley on their cases. They are the only Heroes that can understand the platypus. The others have difficulty translating Agent P’s chatter.

🎼Wander and Sylvia(tag team)

-You can find Wander making musical numbers with Miguel, and Sylvia attempting to fight the Villain Hub, only to peacefully be stopped by Wander.

Or you can spot them together exploring the Heroquarters.

⚡️Lord Hater

-A hot-headed member of the Villain Hub, he has a furious rivalry over Hades(but can’t win against Negaduck or Jafar). Commander Peepers tries to calm his fury down, but sometimes end up in minor burns.

⚡️Commander Peepers

-Accompanies Lord Hater by his side as a bodyguard(Hater doesn’t care about this though). Along with Lord Hater, Peepers is also a member of the Villain Hub.

🔥Lord Dominator

-One of Lord Hater’s notorious arch-rivals, she serves as one of the tacticians of the Villain Hub. She (possibly breaks the Hub rules) sometimes hang out with Shank.

🔥Mulan

-You can find her training in the Heroquarters, especially the downtown Battle Gym that the Heroquarters also own. She enjoys Fred’s fiery talent.

💫Rapunzel

-Spunky, energetic and battle-ready, she also serves as a medic of the Heroquarters(but still fights in the front lines). She enjoys doing festive song mashups with the Battle Mode roster, and she will do anything it takes to make it the best for her comrades.

⚡️Go-Go

-Can be found alongside Hiro in the Heroquarters’ workshop/garage. She usually hangs out with Shank and (sometimes, due to feeling annoyed by his arrogance) Dash.

🔧Wasabi

-Can be found alongside Hiro in the Heroquarters’ workshop/garage. He would make good friends with Ralph and Goofy, and will discuss on how he doesn’t want to be a giant coward on the battlefield(he’s trying).

Good advice on preventing that awkward feeling from two of his new friends will help.

🔥Fred

-Can be found alongside Hiro in the Heroquarters’ workshop/garage. Also a good and fiery Hero for entertainment or on the battlefield.

🧪Honey Lemon

-Can be found alongside Hiro in the Heroquarters’ workshop/garage. Darkwing is interested and intrigued in her chemistry skills.

✨Jafar

-Entering silently to the Heroquarters, he is the soon-to-be-leader of the Villain Hub.

An intimidating leader to say the least.

If no one agrees with him, he’ll hypnotize them with his staff. Negaduck and Hades are his co-dragons in the Villain Hub.

🗡Captain Hook

-A member of the Villain Hub, both Hook and Barbossa have envy for Sparrow’s popularity in the Heroquarters(also formed a friendly relationship, maybe a friendly-rival one).

🤖Yokai

-You may be thinking, “But Hiro already controls microbots in Battle Mode!”. Yes, I know, but I think we might need a villain counterpart for this. Obviously will join the Villain Hub, and attempts to outnumber Hiro’s inventions behind the mask.

In his civilian identity, he tries to act calm and collected around Hiro.

⚙️Oswald the Rabbit

-It was difficult for Mickey to get along with his brother. Like Duck Avenger, Oswald will praise himself to be in another media. He can also be found working alongside Hiro on creating inventions, thinking on creative ideas with Mickey, and probably hovering around the Heroquarters.

One of his biggest fears is being forgotten, since a bunch of Heroes interacting with each other a lot in the Heroquarters would lead to Oswald being left out.

💎Don Karnage

-Brusts through the door in a dancing/singing matter, with sword dramatically pointing upwards. He is a member of the Villain Hub, and (probably breaking the Hub rules) he sometimes make singing rounds with Jessie.

🔎Finn McMissile

-You can find him along with Holley/Mater, talking business with Agent P.

🔎Holley Shiftwell

-She obviously tags along with Finn/Mater and can be found talking business with Agent P.

⚡️Lightning McQueen

-Encourages others on the battlefield to keep on fighting, he sometimes hangs out with Darkwing, but since this version of McQueen is post-Cars 3, it could just be the both of them talking about their future successors(Cruz and Gosalyn).

🔧Mater

-Usually hangs out in the Heroquarters garage/workshop, he offers helpful tools to Hiro. Mater’s talent of successfully driving backwards has intrigued many Heroes, while others(esepecially the Villain Hub) think it’s stupid or crazy.

Mater will describe his backwards talent as crazy.

💡Luxo Jr.

-It’s a strange pick, but when we have Mickey as the star of Disney, how about this ball balancing-Lamp as the star of Pixar and arrive to Battle Mode?

It’s Pixar month right now, and this would make sense.

I can see the two get together and come up with bright-lliant ideas for entertaining the roster. Oswald will join in too.

Imagine Team Disney and Team Pixar of the Battle Mode roster competing against each other...

🦎Randall

-A sneaky member of the Villain Hub, he sometimes makes pranks with Bill, though the majority of it is untrustful.

🐻Winnie the Pooh

-You can find him trying to make friends with every Hero, though making good and healthy relationships with the Villain Hub can be tough for Winnie.

🐯Tigger

-A jolly friend of Winnie the Pooh, you can find him doing a jig with Goofy and Jessie.

Or hanging out with Winnie the Pooh.

[eorzeashan]

Conspiracy, Pt. 1

How he managed to discover his stint as a traitor early on, Theron didn’t know. 

Leave it up to the ex-Cipher to have skills far beyond his ken or the perception needed to see past his motives as only another Intelligence agent of his caliber could.

Disappointing as it was, Theron remained fully prepared to force his way out of the Alliance if needed; it would only serve his case as a traitor, and he was in too deep to back out now. He might’ve expected this, even. 

“Take me with you.”

What he did not expect Eight to have was the gall to ask him to come with. 

Theron had no intention of endangering someone else on such a risky mission, already excluding the glaring issues of how in Force’s name he’d swing it to the rest of the Order. The Alliance could live without Theron Shan, washed up spy, traitor to the cause, but its Outlander? Absolutely not. 

He flatly refused.

Eight hadn’t so much as budged. Take me with you, he’d repeated with not an ounce of doubt or uncertainty, I need to leave the Alliance. 

Now that had raised Theron’s brows past his hairline. 

They’d argued about it, if one could call quiet tenacity a type of arguing, until Eight interrupted his tirade about how he wasn’t going to smuggle him off Odessen no matter how bad this looked with a stern glance and tilt of his snow capped head towards Theron’s holocom buzzing in his pocket. 

“This is an SIS matter now,” He declared, and the statement knocked the wind out of Theron’s stomach. Their Eight, ever-so Imperial, loyal Eight, …was a double-agent for the Republic. Not that he had any right to call him out for it, being caught red-handed in the middle of traitorous activities.

“By whose authorization?” Theron asked testily.

-/-/-/-/-/-

ODESSEN, PRIVATE ROOM

“This is a surprise,” Theron said, schooling his features back into impenetrable stoicism. “Ardun Kothe.”

“In the flesh,” The former spymaster gave a professional smile- one that didn't reach past the crow’s feet of his wizened eyes. “Or not quite.” He chuckled, the flickering blue holo-figure of his form pacing back and forth in the palm of Theron’s hand. 

Theron observed him with thinly veiled wariness. 

SIS spymaster. Former Jedi. Failed leader of a resistance cell whose movements went mysteriously unchecked and wiped from the system. Theron had been well on his way to joining him in a similar fashion– then Ziost happened. 

All the less to trust the man before him. “So what's this about? I thought the SIS cut ties with me by now, but clearly-” He gesticulated around the bare room, shifting uncomfortably. “-that's not the case.”

Ardun nodded curtly to Eight in the background, who mirrored the same gesture to his former cell leader. He turned back to Theron. “Not a pleasure call, that's for certain.” He gave pause. “I take it you're familiar with the Empire's experiments in brainwashing– says here you've done a bit of work in attaining samples– and you've met our Cipher.”

A knot of unease formed above Theron’s brow. He glanced askance at Eight, who still masked his expression with the same unflappable look he always wore. “...Where are you going with this?” 

“I’m contacting you now because Director Trant believes in you.” Ardun continued, words rolling off the timbre of his steady voice. “Between the two of us, Agent Shan, all this talk of traitors and who’s betraying who- that's all a cover.” 

Theron’s jaw tightened. “It's really not.” The reply came out shorter than intended.

Kothe shrugged. “Maybe so. But can you say you're not acting in the best interests of the Republic even now? That you’ve left your old home behind for good? You're short of allies, and you’ve cut yourself loose. Don’t be afraid to know where help is– where it always was. You'll need it in the coming days. I’m offering you a way back in. Saresh is gone, and Marcus needs your skills back where they belong.”

The help doesn't usually punish me for trying to save lives, but sure, he mused bitterly, recalling Saresh’s interference and grounding of his work. 

So. The SIS was trying to make a back deal now that he’d exonerated himself from Alliance services officially. He couldn't say he didn't miss the Republic or the feeling of being on familiar ground, and he’d be lying if the prospect of returning to his old job and undoing all of the damage Saresh had done during her career didn't spark more than interest in him, but…

Theron fell silent. “No. This is something I have to do on my own.”

Ardun didn't seem surprised. “I understand. The SIS will respect whatever decision you choose, Agent. But this isn't just from the SIS; it comes from inside the house. Whatever you plan to do…we want you to succeed.” 

The old ex-Jedi winked over his shoulder at him. “We’re leaving you with a little favor, off the books and off-record; use it wisely.” Ardun clasped his hands behind his back, gaze flinty and uncompromising. “Keyword: Onomatophobia. Thesh protocol, phase one.”

Behind Theron, Eight fell to one knee. His expression looked like he’d been struck.

Theron whirled around. “Eight–? Whoa, what's wrong?” 

Eight failed to answer him. “Thesh protocol engaged. Shutting down.” He repeated robotically. The light faded from the other agent’s eyes– then nothing. 

“Eight?”

No answer. 

“Hey. Wake up.” He grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. Eight didn't respond, limp in his arms like a lifeless doll. No. This was wrong. He needed to get Lana, Eight was–

Horror dawned on Theron’s features as he took a furtive step back, expression quickly morphing from confusion, to open shock, then finally to white hot anger. 

Eight had repeated Ardun’s words like a pre-programmed droid. Eight wasn't waking up. There was a keyword–

Brainwashing. Brainwashing. That was what he meant. That was what he’d been alluding to this entire time. The cold pit of his stomach opened up to icy bone-cutting dread, and he turned on Ardun with a blazing fury. 

“What have you done, Kothe?!” He shouted, voice echoing off the walls. 

The spymaster only smiled, wan and thin. “He’ll be susceptible to commands after he awakens. Use them wisely,” Ardun reminded him, his holo-figure warping as it lost connection.

“No,” He enunciated, hard and low and angry, “No! Don't you dare hang up- Kothe! KOTHE!” The holocall cut out. Theron yelled, slamming his fist where the holo had been. Crunch. 

His hand came back covered in broken communicator parts. He stared at it, then hung his head. Theron punched the table again, this time much weaker, all the fight having left his body with no one to direct it at it. 

Eight was still asleep, and he was alone, with no help coming and an ever-growing list of betrayals that he’d signed off on. 

“Dammit,” He covered his face with his hands. A slight tremor ran through them. “Damn it all to hell.”

-/-/-/-/-/-

The flight after was filled with stony silence. 

The first words Eight had uttered upon awakening had been “awaiting orders”. 

Theron promptly shut the pilot’s door on him. 

He felt bad about it, sure, but his head felt fit to burst with the conflicting emotions and sheer range of thoughts all coalescing into one throbbing headache that made him want to scream. He thanked the stars he still kept a spare bottle of n’etra gal around, a gift from his father around the time of the Ascendancy Spear, yet he never dreamed he’d be popping it open for reasons like this. 

It took about half of the bottle and their flight time for Theron to feel ready to address the bantha in the room again, and even then he wanted to avoid it like the rakghoul plague. 

Sure enough, on the other side of the cabin door was Eight, a deeply apologetic look on his face, hands fisted in the comforter as he meekly muttered “awaiting orders,” as if that were the only phrase in his vocabulary. 

The spy eyed him with condolences. “So,” Theron sighed, plopping down on the other side of the bed next to him, “How does this work? You can’t do anything until I tell you to, or…” He waved dismissively, letting his hands fall back down to his thighs. 

Eight considered this in deep thought. He shrugged. “Awaiting orders,” Eight said.

“Yeah… I got that part.”

Kothe hadn’t been lying about his instructions at the very least, but Theron wished he had. Gift my ass, he inwardly swore. You stuck both of us with a ticking time bomb and no way to defuse it except to take it far, far away. 

Who knew if Kothe had already pre-programmed Eight all this time to act as an unwilling mole? 

Either way, Theron couldn’t leave him behind in the Alliance. As long as Eight was compromised, he needed to be extracted. Any number of their enemies could take advantage of his fragile mental state, and Theron was not going to hand their best fighter to them on a silver platter… nor would he subject a long-time ally to something so heinous. 

He slid a hand down his unshaved face, half-expecting to feel stress wrinkles forming beneath his fingertips. Eight looked at him with worry across the bed.

This was the SIS’ game: saddle Theron with a liability he couldn’t get rid of so easily, and if he did, completely undermine the Alliance from within with it. Not a bad play, ruining their Outlander like that. 

But Theron wasn’t so easily done in; as far as he was concerned, nothing had changed save for a slight wrinkle in the plan. Vinn Atrius still needed to be stopped, and the Alliance was still in danger. Eight being his unintended and unwilling partner-in-crime didn’t steer them off course, although he had to make some serious adjustments.

He’d just have to wing the part about both of them joining the Order of Zildrog.

“Well, if I have to give you orders…”

-/-/-/-/-/-

NATHEMA

“We had a deal, Theron.” Vinn Atrius’ voice took on an edge– the man himself glared daggers at Theron, as if imagining crushing the other into a flattened pancake beneath his heel. 

“I know, I know, just–” Theron put his hands up placatingly. “Hear me out. He’s on our side. We both didn’t like how the Alliance was being run–”

“What sort of fool do you take me for, Shan?” Vinn hissed, the air around him crackling with suppressed fury. The hairs on Theron’s arm stood on end. “Did you really think I would believe two of the Alliance’s top founders would defect, much less their hunting dog?” He threw a disgusted glare at Eight, who feigned ignorance in the corner of the barren base.

Vinn crowded further into Theron’s space, a hulking mass of boiling rage. “Your arrogance knows no bounds; I should kill the both of you right here and now!” He shouted into the spy’s face, finger stabbing into his chest with each spat syllable. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, big guy,” Theron fought to maintain his composure, even as he backed up until his spine met the wall. Vinn’s massive frame loomed over him. “That hunting dog is tired of being under the Alliance’s yoke. You don’t know this, but it wasn’t his decision to fight for them. He owes them his life. Just as he owes me.” 

“And? Am I supposed to be convinced that he won’t slaughter us all in our sleep?” Vinn scowled. “You speak of disillusion, yet this man murdered our Emperor– our entire royal lineage without a second thought.” The knight slammed his fist into the moss-covered wall beside Theron’s head. “He is responsible for all of it!”

“If you want someone to blame, blame Arcann!” Theron rebutted, eyes flashing. He balled his fists. “He’s the one who started all this. The rest of us were caught in the crossfire of your family conflict, remember?” Theron straightened to his full height in the face of Vinn’s rage, unwilling to be cowed. “The Outlander was framed for everything Arcann did, including the assassination of your beloved Emperor. Arcann and the Alliance used him to eliminate their enemies. He has more reason than any of us to be here–!”

“Know your place, fool!” Vinn roared, igniting his polesaber. 

Theron fell silent, realizing he’d gone a step too far. 

“If you remain so intent on proving his innocence…” 

Vinn suddenly faced Eight, who reacted with alarm; the knight formed a claw with his dominant hand and pulled. Eight dug his heels into the ground and resisted, but he was no match for the Force without a shield. He zipped to the knight unceremoniously. 

As soon as he was in reach, Vinn caught him by the wrist and violently yanked it upward. Surprise morphed into one of pain as Vinn hyperextended his arm well above his head, gripping hard enough to bruise. His feet dangled; Atrius was a much larger opponent in both width and height. Even in such a position, Eight withheld a cry of pain, unwilling to give Vinn the satisfaction of sadism. He bared his teeth at the knight. 

Vinn decided he didn’t like the look, and tightened his grip on Eight’s wrist, hard enough to purple the skin. His polesaber ignited beside them with a hum, bathing Eight’s pained expression in a militant blue. Theron’s eyes widened to saucers as Vinn raised his saber hand to strike.

“WAIT!”

Theron hadn’t realized the shout came from his own throat, desperate as it was. 

Vinn’s saber stopped inches away from contact. Eight didn’t move.

“Wait,” He repeated, this time, far hoarser, “You don’t have to hurt him. There’s collateral.” A trickle of sweat rolled down his cheek. 

“Speak,” Vinn said imperiously.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes met with Eight’s, who appeared as unsteady as he felt. And yet, the other operative must have read his intentions, for the light of understanding entered the void of his gaze. Hesitant, yet barely noticeable, he nodded to Theron.

He wet his parched and cracked lips.

Vinn’s lightsaber still hovered, pulsing with blue light.

“We took...countermeasures. Insurance. There’s…a codeword that ensures obedience.” Vinn frowned, but Theron noticed the gleam of ambition in his gaze. He quickened the pace. “If I tell him not to betray us, he has to obey. He’s not a threat. I promise.” 

Sure enough, Eight hung uselessly in Vinn’s hold, not a hint of hostility to be found. Were this any other situation, the ex-Cipher would have attacked him by now– had Theron not taken that into account.

Perfectly aware of his record for lethality, Theron had briefed him prior to the meeting to let him handle the Order at all costs. Granted, it left the other unable to defend himself, but Eight understood that the matter was too delicate to do it the usual asskicking way, and Theron had been working this case for months. It had sounded like common sense at the time.

Now he slightly regretted that decision, knowing what it sowed.

The fact that he trusted him still even at the current threat of injury…Theron had to spare him any amount of suffering. Yet sharing the secret of Eight’s susceptibility was playing exactly into their hands, and he didn’t know how to stop the sinking feeling that he was trading one evil for another, staining his tarnished record black– except it would be Eight paying the price, not him. His skin turned clammy.

“A codeword,” Vinn echoed, almost reverent. He de-ignited his polesaber.  “How very like you outlanders, to be as backstabbing and manipulative as you claim.”

“Yeah.” Theron pressed his lips together into a thin, bloodless line. “So let go of him.”

The Zakuulan arched an unimpressed brow.

“Please.” He added, quieter.

Vinn examined Eight with a newfound curiosity, then released him from his grasp. 

Eight rubbed his wrist and glanced upwards at Vinn with a mixed expression. Theron didn’t let him entertain any vengeful thoughts of violence, as much as he himself wanted to blast Vinn to bits. He lunged forward and yanked the other spy to his side well out of Vinn’s reach. The knight’s eyes tracked him all the way behind Theron.

“If we’re done chopping arms off, can we get back to business?” Theron asked tentatively, hiding the sheer discomfort he felt lingering in the air like a caustic smog. His fingers tapped nervously on Eight’s wrist, still holding onto where Vinn had squeezed dark bruising into his skin. 

Eight peered warily over his shoulder at the Zakuulan knight, though Theron could feel his eyes boring a questioning look into his back every few glances. 

Vinn Atrius folded his impressive arms over his chestplate. “...Very well.” He turned with a dramatic swish of his cape. “The Adegan crystals. You know what to do.” 

“They’re yours,” Theron answered all-too quickly, wanting nothing more than to put a close to this disastrous meeting. 

“One last thing, Shan.”

“One last–?” 

“Leave the Outlander here.”

Theron tensed. “No.”

“I am not so foolish as to allow both of you in the field. He will be monitored.” Vinn stared at him with disdain through his nose. Theron glared back. 

Vinn scoffed. “It’s that or the codeword. Unlike you savage outlanders, I can spare your friend the humiliation of what Lady Vaylin suffered–” He looked balefully upon Eight. “--though he deserves it. Make your priorities clear, Theron, or I’ll make all your decisions for you and him.”

Theron floundered for a mental foothold. A thousand bad scenarios raced through his mind. Neither of these were options, they were ultimatums. Ones he had no control over, no guarantee of safety. Leaving Eight alone with the enemy was tantamount to killing him with his own hands. Giving him the codeword even moreso. 

Atrius tapped his foot impatiently.

He doubted his intentions enough as it was, but Theron couldn’t give him leverage. A hostage, of all things. Who was playing who? Now Theron was caught by the tail in both the Order and the SIS. There was no winning if he agreed. Yet the longer he let hesitation take hold, the more he could sense the suspicion growing from the former Horizon Guard, who looked ready to take Eight away from him by force any second now. 

A sharp tug on his sleeve pulled him out of his anxiety-riddled thoughts. Eight wore a non-expression that gave little away, irises as dark as the black sand beaches of Rishi. 

Theron’s brows steepled quizzically. He felt his heart rate lowering looking at the serene canvas that Eight’s countenance was. Always unflappable, calm, strong. How many times had they come to rely on his detachedness? His ability to face any threat with nigh a hint of fear in him? His eternal resilience, with the scars to prove it?

Theron gripped his chest. The fabric crumpled between his fingers. He’d promised him he wouldn’t have to bear their burdens anymore, and he was already failing.

Eight let the silence hang between them until the panic in Theron’s chest subsided to a dull ache. Then, like a gust of fresh wind clearing the unbreathable miasma from the air, he spoke. 

“It’s alright.” He released his sleeve. “I can stay.”

Theron blinked at him, not comprehending. He shook his head vigorously. “I can’t let you-”

“He’s made his decision,” Vinn brusquely interrupted, muscling between them. Theron was shoved aside, tripping backwards on his heels as Vinn obscured Eight behind the curtain of his humongous cape.  “Now make yours.” He glowered. “I have no time for dogs who come to lick the scraps from my heels.” 

Theron grit his teeth. They ground against each other. He felt like a wounded hound who’d just been thrown out of the ring after a knockout. Screw you, asshole. 

“Wait. Just… let me say goodbye, at least.” He said quickly, clinging to the last chance they’d have at communication. 

The corner of Vinn’s lip curled upwards. Theron took his lack of objection as a yes. 

He scrambled to remove his jacket, internally apologizing to Eight for not washing it sooner and praying that it didn’t smell too bad. Eight’s gaze was bright and curious as Theron draped the classic red jacket over his shoulders.

“Keep it with you,” Theron ordered, hand stopping to rest over the familiar worn leather that now rested on Eight’s smaller frame, “Whatever you do, don’t lose it. Okay?”

Eight seemed to get the memo. He nodded, short and sharp.

Theron gave him a small pat, hand hovering for a moment before falling to his side. He stepped back. 

He was sure Eight was lost on why Theron was fawning over him like a lover– they were never what one could call “close” in the first place, and anything between them was more business than personal. Even the few moments they shared as partners in crime were distant at best, and Theron wasn’t going to lie about the emotional unavailability of their relationship. 

But staring at Eight now, he mostly felt regret. He knew next to nothing still about the ex-Imperial. Even yelled at him a couple times for actions he didn’t approve of (which he wished he could rescind, as Eight no longer ambushed his quieter moments out of mischief and had taken to interacting with him purely out of necessity after). But that didn’t mean he wanted the last time he ever saw him alive to be…like this. Theron drooped. 

No one had ever asked Eight’s reasons for fighting for them as their Outlander, him included. Turned out it wasn’t fair of them to ask everything of one person and give nothing in return but scathing remarks and more demands for the sake of their own lofty ideals.

When Eight killed the royal family of Zakuul, finally did the dirty deed and shed blood in their name, no one had been there. They’d turned their backs on him. A little bit of darkness, and the Alliance abandoned him completely in order to keep their shiny coats clean.

He had been their scapegoat, their hero, their alibi, and their sacrificial lamb all in one. 

Theron couldn’t even call him a friend. 

“We will contact you as soon as you have the crystals. Be ready by sundown.” Vinn carelessly tossed him a burner holocomm. “But know this: make one wrong move, and you forfeit your friend’s freedom. Betray us, and it will be his life. Is that clear?” Vinn’s voice was low, simmering with the threat. Eight, still in his grasp, flicked his uncertain gaze to the SIS agent. 

“...I understand.” He flexed his hands reflexively, wanting to act, do more than gawk like a moron while Vinn had his way. 

Vinn hauled Eight away by the bicep, the other forced to stumble awkwardly along due to the sheer height difference. He stopped just outside the entryway to the temporary hideout. “See that you do, Shan.” Eight’s pitying look followed him all the way until he and Atrius disappeared around the corner. Yet Vinn’s arrogant voice floated to him until they were out of earshot, ringing hollowly in his ears. “...See that you do.”

-/-/-/-/-/-

UMBARA

“The traitor’s just beyond that door.” 

Lana doggedly marched ahead of Theron, anticipation and eagerness rolling off her demeanor. 

Theron performed a simple sweep, carefully stalking behind the vulnerability of her open back. He had a wider area to cover today given the noticeable absence of their mutual friend, who ordinarily would be taking point adjacent to him. At the thought of Eight, a wrinkle formed in Theron’s brow.

Lana had chalked his missing status up to wanderlust, though it sparked no end to muttered threats about what an earful she would give him on his return. 

Theron knew better; Eight’s eccentric habits made it easy to spin a white lie about his whereabouts. The ex-Cipher had a tendency to avoid the Alliance and its “menial” tasks on his off-days, but as a result, made it difficult to locate him in order to avoid being saddled with the bureaucratic duties he and Lana shared simply because he had “no talent” for it, and only came into the base to head missions more relevant to his skills.

Ones that involved gratuitous amounts of violence, mostly. Any work past the bare listed minimum had Eight disappearing the moment their back was turned. Theron wished he could do that with his paperwork, but alas, he was not afforded such special treatment. 

“It’s as if he’s purposefully making our lives difficult,” Lana had thrown up her hands in frustration, paperwork scattering in the air as she slumped backwards in her chair when he gave her the news. “Just… tell me when he gets back. And no more of his excuses, do you hear me?”

It was almost cruel to obfuscate the truth from her.

The opening hiss of a pneumatic door signaled to him the trap was laid; Lana stepped inside, aghast. She lowered her lightsaber, glancing around the empty car with a muddled look on her ordinarily composed face. Not a soul inside. Her confident bloodlust dissipated into thin air, and with it, her only lead. The quarry was…gone?

“What-?” She asked aloud, failing to notice the traitor inching forward at her back.

It took a split-second. The Force screamed at her. She reacted, drawing her lightsaber in an instant. The blaster bolt deflected off the crimson edge and back at her attacker–

“Theron?!” She cried out, disbelieving. Yet she could only confirm the sordid truth as rayshielded walls fell around her, the blaster bolt dissipating uselessly against it. Theron Shan, her trusted ally turned traitor. Her golden eyes fell to the smoking blaster in his hand, pointed straight ahead. Her face fell. He’d attempted to shoot her. In the back. 

She forced down the humiliation that welled up in her for falling for something so obvious, even as he stared at her from the other side of the rayshield with a grim expression, his aura tainted with a nebulous feeling that twisted and roiled in the Force. 

How could he–? After all they’d been through…no, no– this made no sense. Lana controlled her breathing. She knew Theron. 

She needed an explanation, and she needed one now. 

“What in the blazes are you doing?” Lana hissed at him, saber thrumming with the anger that pulsed in her chest like a fractured kyber heart. Her tone bordered on electric, dancing with the imminent danger of her withheld wrath. 

Theron sighed and lowered his blaster. “Stalling you,” He explained, as if faced with an unsavory chore. “I’m sorry, Lana. I should’ve done this long ago. It’s past time we ended this.” He set his wrist comp’s internal clock. “In a few minutes, this train will collide with the side of the mountain, and I’ll be gone. For what it’s worth…” His expression grew sympathetic. “It's been an honor to fight by your side.” 

Lana stuttered. “I don’t– I don’t understand.” Hurt colored her pallid cheeks. “Theron, tell me what’s going on. We can talk about this.” 

Theron appeared pained at her words. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers again, they were filled with an uncountable tiredness to them that Lana had not seen before. “...The Alliance, Lana. We can’t do this anymore. It has to end. That starts,” He narrowed his embittered eyes, “with you.”

Theron took Lana’s speechlessness as a cue to continue, a sudden zeal replacing the deep melancholy that had previously dominated his features. His tone picked up. 

“Our goal was Zakuul, but now that the real threat is gone, we’ve lost sight of who we are–and that isn’t the next galactic superpower.” He paced in front of her, the angry red of the rayshield casting him in a harsher light than Lana had ever seen before. “I won’t stand by and watch it turn into the next Empire, Lana. We’ve sacrificed too much to go on like this, and if the Alliance is another tool for grinding good men and women into dust…then it needs to be torn down.” 

“That’s not-”

“And with the way things are going, we’re destined to return to the status quo by the next cycle.” Theron pierced her with his steely gaze. “Am I wrong?”

Lana froze, grip tightening on the hilt of her uselessly hanging blade. Theron’s eyes bore into hers. She could sense no regret, no point of return from his words. Yet the longer he spoke, the colder the tendrils of despair seemed to become, winding themselves around her veins, chilling her to the bone with this sinking feeling. Betrayal. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lana tried, failing to understand. For all her eloquence, in this moment she was truly at a loss for words. It was as if her tongue weighed duracrete, locked down by an invisible force that choked her very lungs. 

Lana Beniko had never been trusting in the traditional sense, but it was Theron whom she shared more than one battle with. More than one war with. She’d thought…

Theron’s eyes widened, then lowered. “I…” He turned away, facing his back to her. Lana could see the visible slump in his broad shoulders, the way they hung like he carried the weight of the world. 

She’d seen that same back working tirelessly on those nights when they burned the midnight oil together monitoring operations, Lana’s other bastion within the Alliance besides Koth and their errant swordsman, the one who had brought them together in the first place. The irony was almost laughable. 

Theron a traitor, Eight a distant specter in their Alliance, and herself, saddled with the immeasurable burden of leadership…their little group was falling apart by the seams. 

Perhaps that was her own fault, for trusting them through shared history alone. How could she have been so foolish to assume they were anything but enemies waiting for their chance to strike once the specter of Zakuul had been removed? 

It was then Lana realized she’d overlooked a vital detail. A huge, glaring mistake, that she should have noticed sooner. 

“Theron,” She spoke slowly, hesitantly, yet impossible to ignore with its underlying edge,  “Where is Eight?”

[ladylaurana]

Notes found in a journal

Below notes were discovered in a journal, surrounded by anatomy studies, they were written in Draconic and were scrambled using a basic cipher.

Christoph Charming, in a rakish sort of way. Nice eyes, infectious smile. Smarter the he lets on I think. Warlock, so mildly unfortunate,. Still, a fellow of some position. Mentioned Captain, Captain of what? Fun to daydream about, wonder how beard feels, never kissed with a beard before. If I were to consider getting drunk with anyone; I trust him both most and least.

Doru Scared child, doesn’t know what he could be. Likes Rezzi. Potential.

Girda Strong silent type? Doesn’t trust me. Doesn’t trust anyone. Nimble fingers, strong hands. Slouches. Accent slips sometimes. Overly cautious, there are secrets here.

Mavis Acts like a child, more cunning then she looks. Cleric, nature or trickster god. Unlikely to like my affiliation. Knows when to be quiet, but still tends towards chaos. Further observation needed.

Rowan Grumpy, surly, rude. Likes nicknames. Protective. Cares. Respect may be possible. Another beard. More strong hands. Broad shoulders. Only has eyes for Tatyana. Alcohol? Probably regret, but interesting.

Rezzi Child. Warlock. Whoever took her soul should feel bad for making a contract with a child. Infectious enthusiasm. Will turn me grey or kill me from stress. Sweet. Can never meet Michael. Would like Joffrey.

Strahd Sounds fascinating. Want to talk to him about everything. Must have lots of knowledge, even if not to academic rigour, so much to discuss! Very attractive. Dangerously charming. Obvious predator, exciting. No beard, long hair. Long fingers. Seems lonely. Still want to talk.

Tatyana Very attractive. Eyes for Rowan. Powerful magic. History with Strahd. Ex-wife. Kind. Intelligent. Friend? Wants to help people. Wants me to help people.

[atamascolily]

more fun stuff from Assault at Selonia by Roger MacBride Allen featuring Mara Jade

“Mara Jade? The trader? She has had many dealing with the Selonians. We know her well, and trust her.”

“Yeah, well, Mara Jade is a lot more than just a trader. Did you know that she used to be the Emperor’s Hand? The Emperor’s personal, private, secret agent and assassin?”

“No,” Dracmus said, clearly startled. “Do you speak truly?”

“Very much so,” Han replied, a trifle excitedly. “It also would explain how the bad guys managed to get hold of the Chief of State’s private diplomatic cipher. She used to be a spy. She knows how to get that kind of stuff.” He thought for a moment and then spoke again. “It all fits. Mara Jade brought us the message, and she gave us some long complicated story about how it got to her. From what was on the message container, it looked as if it had been meant for Luke Skywalker, but that they had used Mara as a backup when that failed. But what if that was all an elaborate charade—one that we bought into all the way?”

“You are suggesting Mara Jade brought a message she had written herself? That she is part of the starbuster plot?”

“Yes!” Han said. “And she was nowhere to be found the day Corona House was attacked.”

“Ah! Of this I can speak, and glad to do so, to defend the honor of Mara Jade, which I wish to do. She has been sighted in Corona House since day after rocket attack.”

YEAH DRACMUS SPEAKING UP FOR MY GIRL MARA JADE!

“But why would she do it? What would be motive?”

Han hooked a thumb at the cell door. “Our kindly hosts are very obviously all either ex-Imperial or people who just want the good old Imperial days back. Thrackan said as much to me. Now, I grant, she has done a lot of good for the Republic over the years, and she hasn’t gone around chanting the Emperor’s name out loud or anything, but Mara has never been one to show her hand. She always was good at keeping secrets. I doubt anyone is ever quite sure of what she intends. Suppose, just suppose, that Mara has changed her mind again. What if she’s decided she wants the Empire back after all? Maybe she looks at Corellian and figures you have to start somewhere. I grant it’s a little hard to believe, but it seems to me we’re in the position of having to choose between improbable explanations.”

“The idea has logic, but does not convince,” said Dracmus. “I do agree Jade is hard-edged, ruthless. But she has honor, and we speak of wiping out whole planets. Could she truly be capable of such brutal savagery?”

Han nodded. “I grant you have a point. She’s always been tough, and hard, but never barbaric. I can’t see her as the sort to murder millions. But maybe we don’t have the whole story. We might be missing something. Remember the first nova didn’t hurt anyone. Maybe the threat to inhabited systems is a bluff.”

Okay, so admittedly Han has been having a rather bad time of things in this particular series, but still... even he has to admit it’s kinda improbable for Mara to be the Big Bad, LOL. 

Then Dracmus drops the bomb:

But I hope you are all wrong, honored Solo. I truly do.”

“Why, Dracmus?”

“It is not obvious? If she is behind this plot, she has quite deliberately arranged things so she is where she is right now, to be where she can do the plot the most good.”

“What’s your point?” Han asked.

“Right now,” she said, “Mara Jade is in same place with your wife.”

The look on Han’s face at that moment has got to be priceless.

CUT TO: Leia Organa Solo under house arrest, yelling at her guard:

Just before he reached the door, he turned back and spoke again. “Oh,” he said, “I almost forgot. We’re rearranging the cells. Seems one female prisoner had a fight with another. Gotta divide ’em up. Right after lunch, you get a new cell mate.” The guard laughed one more time as he stepped out into the hallway.

Leia heard the lock snick shut behind him. She always heard the lock. Why was it the one thing this bunch of incompetents always remembered to do was lock the door?

LOLOLOL. This is even funnier in context, because Han and Dracmus are also in prison and were paired together as cellmates because their captors were expressly hoping they’d fight with each other.

The tableau held for a moment longer, but then Mara made the first move. “Hello, Leia,” she said, stepping forward and nodding her head very slightly, her tone and behavior formal, even if she called Leia by her first name. “It is good to see you.” She made no effort to offer her hand, or come closer. She looked cool, calm, well-fed, well rested. The troubles of the last few days—if they had indeed been troublesome days for her—had left no mark on her. Mara was tall and slender, with a dancer’s body and grace. Her red-gold hair flowed over her shoulders, set off by the plain black tailored jumpsuit she wore.

“And it’s good to see you,” Leia said, not quite sure if she was lying or not. She turned and went back around the table, and retook her seat there, if for no other reason than to break up the awkward scene. “However I must admit I am surprised.”

“I think it would be a bit more accurate to say you’re not quite sure what to think,” Mara said evenly, taking a seat opposite Leia at the table. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be wondering about me. You’re no fool, and neither am I. I can see all the reasons you might suspect me. Nothing I can say will convince you that I had no role in all this. I don’t know how strong your Jedi powers are, but I doubt they are strong enough for a complete probe of my mind.”

“Not one that I’d have any faith in,” Leia admitted.

“So there we are,” Mara concluded.

“Are you saying I’ll just have to trust you?”

Mara shrugged. “Trust me to do what? We’re not allies in this, so far as I know. The one thing we can both be sure we have in common is that we’d both like to escape.”

“Can I even be sure of that?” Leia asked.

Mara smiled. “Yes,” she said. “You can. I want out of here. The longer I am cooped up here, the worse it will be for my trading business. You’ve never known me to be shy about admitting my personal interests. I’m losing time and money sitting here.”

“And that’s supposed to satisfy me.”

“No,” said Mara, “but it’s all I’ve got. I’m not involved in this madness, but how can I prove a negative?”

Leia looked long and hard at Mara. She had the very strong impression that Mara could say more if she wished, but it was clear she was not going to say another word on the subject. “What can you tell me about what’s going on out there?”

“Not much,” Mara said. “I’ve been locked up three doors down. My ex-roommate accused me of being a League sympathizer, it got a little sticky, and so here I am. I haven’t heard anything more than you.”

Rule #1: do not fuck with Mara Jade, she will hurt you.

What follows is some pretty epic Leia and Mara team-up as they escape from their prison cell by means of a bedsheet rope and clamber through a ruined building to fetch the slave circuit remote for the Jade’s Fire and ride their way to freedom.

They tied one end of the improvised rope around the bed frame. Leia tied an improvised climbing harness onto herself, snaked the bedsheet rope through it, then climbed up onto the windowsill and threw the end of the rope out the window.

“Wish me luck,” she said to Mara.

“Oh, I do,” Mara said. “After all, I get to go next.”

They make it to Leia’s old apartment and she’s able to retrieve a lightsaber that Luke made for her - please note it’s red! - and a blaster for Mara. Mara shoots a guard wandering through, and they keep going.

Leia shut her own eyes as she unclipped the lightsaber from her belt and activated it. The weapon came alive with the familiar low thrum of power. Even through her closed eyelids, the light from the blade seemed remarkably bright after the gloom and darkness. She gave her eyes a moment to adjust, and then opened them cautiously, being careful not to look at the lightblade itself. She held the blade vertically and looked around the foyer, now lit by the ruby-red glow of the lightsaber.

“First time I’ve ever seen one of those used for a handlamp,” Mara said.

“You work with what you’ve got,” Leia said. “There’s the door to the stairs. Let’s go.”

THAT’S A LIE, MARA,  everyone uses their lightsaber as a glowrod (just like everybody uses their phone as a flashlight IRL) but whatever, LOL.

“Leia!” Mara shouted over the roar of the flames. “Get ready. I’m not sure how close I’ll be able to fly her in, but the second she’s close enough, jump! You might not get a second chance. If you get aboard, go to the pilot’s station and be ready to take control once I’m aboard!”

“Will do!” Leia shouted, and watched as the Jade’s Fire rushed closer. She was a bigger ship than Leia had expected, significantly larger than the Millennium Falcon. She was a craft of graceful lines. She had a snubbed-off nose and a wide fuselage that blended into the two thick elliptical wings. She was painted in a flame-pattern of oranges and red. Leia certainly wouldn’t want to try flying anything that size up to the side of a building by remote. And it looked like the job was giving Mara just a bit of trouble at that. The Fire slowed as it came nearer, and wobbled a bit in flight. Turbulence.

Mara swore under her breath and made the slightest of adjustments to the controls. The Fire slowed down even more, and eased down just a trifle, bringing the top of the craft more or less even with the window ledge. Mara brought her in to a complete halt in midair, about fifty meters from the ledge. At that moment a blaster fired from one of the upper windows of Corona House. The shot pinged off the Fire’s hull. A door opened in the top of the fuselage and a gun turret popped out. It immediately swiveled about and returned fire. “Shoot-back system,” Mara shouted before Leia could ask. “Automatically returns fire at anything that shoots at it. Which reminds me. Don’t do any more shooting yourself, or that thing will paste you for sure.”

Remember rule #1, y’all? She will hurt you.

Oh, man it’s been ages since I’ve read this book and there’s a lot to mine from a fic perspective here.

[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story)- Chapter Thirty: Power

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire.)

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Power

“Well, she didn’t say no.” Nine spins around in her chair as the call disconnects, turning back to Lana and Theron still sitting on the couch. “Not that I fault her lack of enthusiasm. We are going to blow the roof off the place, after all.”

Theron shrugs. “It’s Nar Shaddaa, and we’ll be thirty floors up from the access point. Hook up some backup generators and I doubt anyone’ll notice beyond the power flicker.”

“We’ll work out the details once we’re there. Lana, you’re still all right with leading the drop team? I’ve got a feeling you’ll work better with Veeroa and her people than Theron.”

“You’re not wrong,” Lana says, attention still on the datapad on her lap. “Korriban taught her all its worst lessons, but I’m quite familiar with the type. Properly aimed, she’ll be useful. You’re sure we can trust this Sia’hla, though?”

She stands up, licking her lips. Her throat’s dry from so much talking; she could use a drink. “I’m sure. We go back a long way, she and I.”

“Is this her- with you?” When Lana holds up the datapad she can’t really see it at this distance, takes a few steps toward the couch as Theron turns his head to look and-

Oh, Void, that got on to the Holonet?

“Years and years ago, but yes. She’s a dancer, though I assume she’s largely retired now if she’s running her own place,” she says, watching herself on the little screen, the two of them draped artfully over each other, spinning circles around the pole in the center of the stage. Was she really ever that young? That was- oh, stars, that was right before Hunter. “She knew what I was- it was unavoidable, given how we met. I’d use her as a reference for undercover work, like here.” She points at the audience, sitting in shadow. “That Devaronian in the front row was about two hours away from the business end of my knife.”

“You had way more fun on the job than I used to,” Theron murmurs. “Ex of yours, I’m guessing?”

“What? No. That would have been- she would have felt obligated. The last thing she needed back then was someone else taking advantage of her.”

Both of them raise eyebrows at that, but Theron’s the only one who responds. “You know I don’t care, right? It was just a question.”

“I know.”

(They’ve been honest with each other on that front. Not in detail- neither of them were much for jealousy and that sort of comparison was vulgar, frankly; she may be many things but vulgar isn’t one- but what’s the point in lying? It’s all in the past, in any case.)

“What kind of leverage do you have on her?” Lana sets the pad down on the table. “She kept your identity secret this long, apparently, but if she goes running to the Hutts- or worse, the Zakuulans-”

“It’s not as though she’s sitting there with my dossier in hand. She never even knew my real name- stars, Kaliyo never even knew my real name. We always used aliases, even back then. But she’s not going to nark on us.”  

Rubbing her temples, Lana leans back into the cushions. “I know she’s a friend, Nine-”

“Force, I thought I was paranoid.” She perches on the back of the couch, just in between them, as Theron nods agreement and she nudges her elbow lightly into his neck; he makes a face at her. “She won’t. Trust me.”

“You’re that certain?”

She sighs. “Did your family have slaves, Lana? When you were a child, before you went to Korriban?”

“Droids, mostly. But yes, a few- though I don’t really remember them. I had a nanny. She was the one who told my parents when she found me floating my schoolbooks across the room to my desk.” Lana lowers her hands. “Why?”

“What about later?”

“I was a research strategist, Nine, before I was Arkous’ advisor- hardly wealthy. And even if I could have afforded slaves, do you honestly think I would have wanted them?”

With a tilt of her head, she tucks her feet up beneath her, carefully balanced, while Theron shifts his silent attention back and forth between them. “No, I suppose not. But your masters all had them, and their masters.”

“Yes, they did. All of them. It was just-” Lana pauses, glances down and then back up, chewing on her lower lip. “The system was what it was. You know that better than most.”

“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know- and all bought from Hutt space, of course. One can’t simply force the conquered into servitude any longer, so we have the syndicates to do our dirty work for us. Have you ever visited the slave market on Nar Shaddaa?”

Theron makes a noise, low and angry in his throat- he’s been there, then- but Lana only shakes her head. “No. Never. What’s your point?”

“I spent a lot of time there-” she turns a little more toward her- “in the early years of my career. No monitoring permitted, so it was one of the best places to work a first meeting with an informant assuming you don’t mind watching crying children being sold for the cost of a decent meal.”

Lana shifts, uneasy, as her hands curl into tight fists.

“Sia’hla was a slave when I met her. Belan, her owner, ran a cantina-slash-whorehouse as a front for the Hutt cartel, but he’d been feeding us intel on the side for years. I took over as his handler on my first tour there- back before I was made Cipher.” She remembers that posting far too well; those were memories she would have gladly let the Empire take if they had wanted them. “He was scum. I’d have put a round through his head if it were up to me, but my orders were to keep him talking.”

“I had a few contacts like that,” Theron says quietly, “down in the undercity. Lots of things that are illegal in Republic space get a little less so when you stop seeing daylight.”

She looks toward him for a moment, a tiny little nod. “And Sia was his favorite, which just meant that he used her by turns as a dancer, a bedslave and a punching bag depending on his mood. The bruises were fairly hard to miss.”

“She shot him, she said? Sounds like he more than deserved it.” Theron again. Lana’s still silent, still listening.

“He got greedy- started skimming credits off our take, and unlike my predecessor I actually audited his books. When I showed up at his place to call him out on it I think he knew what was coming. He was beating the shit out of her, and I couldn’t-” she frowns. She had, though. All of them had, over and over again, all pretending one good deed could somehow make up for thousands of old sins- “I couldn’t just stand there and watch her die. I pulled him off, but he hit me with a stunner and I woke up an hour later in a cell, collared, bound, and bleeding.”

Theron’s hand rests against her back, a small comfort; she leans into his touch.

Lip curling into a scowl, Lana finally speaks. “Did he really think he’d get away with it? Greed’s one thing, but trying to sell an Imperial agent into slavery? He wouldn’t have survived the week.”

“I don’t know whether he planned to sell me or just have a bit of sport and then kill me, but thankfully I didn’t have to find out. When I missed my check-in with Kaliyo she came searching. She found him with a hole through his back and Sia, shaking like a leaf, holding my rifle.”

“Good for her.”

“I paid out her contract on the spot with the money we were going to recoup from him. I bought all of their contracts, all ten of his girls. ‘liyo and I pulled the collars off their necks and got them the fuck out of that place. The oldest one was twenty, I think. Sia’hla was seventeen.” She pushes up off the couch, back onto her feet, restless, needing to pace, to drown out the memory of their fear with the sounds of her footsteps. She’d given them the rest of the money, too- her handler’d been pissed and it wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but what more could she have done? Taking them back to the Empire would have gotten them all sold again at best and shot at worst. “She’d worn that collar since she was eleven years old. She still has the scars from it under that expensive dress you just saw. And you know why she finally worked up the nerve to turn on him?”

Lana closes her eyes, presses her fingertips to the bridge of her nose. “Because you made him stop.”

“Because I made him stop. Because I was the only one, out of every single person who set foot in that place, who ever did. So my point, since you asked, is that we can trust her. It’s got nothing to do with leverage. It’s-”

She stops, then, in the middle of the room. Theron’s watching her with something like pride in his eyes when Lana lets her hands fall and rises, stepping around the edge of the sitting area to meet her where she stands.

“Yes,” Lana says, “I understand. I’ll let Veeroa know we’re ready to move. When do you want to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ve still got an apartment there we can use as a staging area and we’ll take Nightshrike. It’ll only be five of us traveling: Theron climbing with me, you with the topside team, Kaliyo on demolitions and for slicing- Tee-Seven, I suppose? SCORPIO’s still on that Gravestone project. That’ll leave Senya and Koth-” typing a quick message on her comm while she talks, she sends it on its way to both of them- “to take over command duties while we’re gone, and they’ll need a briefing. And I ought to eat something at some point, but-”

“I’ll grab food and meet you in the War Room.” Theron hops over the back of the couch. He never did like to go the long way ‘round. “And caf, yeah?”

“And caf. See you there.”

He taps at the door panel, barely waiting for it to open before he’s gone into the hallway.

“Can I ask you a strange question, Nine?” Lana’s datapad’s still sitting on the table and she leans far across to retrieve it, looking down at the screen again. When she cranes her neck to look, too, the video’s paused; in that frozen moment the two of them are turned in profile to the camera, backs arched until her hair and Sia’hla’s lekku brush the stage floor, held upright only by the counterweight of their bodies wound around each other. “All that horror- and she stayed on Nar Shaddaa, dancing. Why didn’t she leave?”

“I asked her that, too… it was what she knew how to do, she said. At first it was- therapeutic. Familiar. I didn’t quite understand it at the time but it seemed to keep her calm, so-” she shrugs. She understands it now, of course. Oh, Void, does she understand it now. “And she was good at it. We made ten thousand credits in tips on that dance alone, but that wasn’t even the point. Every eye in that room was on her. In that world, that’s power, and you hold on to power when you find it.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You’re Sith. Of course you don’t.”

Lana frowns. “That’s unfair, Nine. You honestly think that being Sith means I don’t know what it means to be afraid? To feel powerless?”

“Not afraid. We all know afraid. But powerless... you could bounce me off the ceiling with a wave of your hand, Lana. You could have called me into your office five years ago and lopped my head off and not a single person there would dare meet your eye- the only question you’d have been asked was who was going to get my job. Call it relative, if you like, but compared to the rest of us you started out a hundred paces ahead.” She reaches out toward the screen. “A thousand ahead of someone like her.”

“Is that what you want, too? Power?”

(For a moment the world goes still and silent and she can feel Valkorion in the back of head, a dull throb that reminds her of nothing so much as the impatient tap tap tap of a finger on a tabletop, waiting, waiting-

Is it?)

When she blinks he’s gone.

“Back then I would have said yes.”

“What about now?”

“Power’s only useful when you’re playing the game,” she says, “and I’m so tired of games. But I don’t have much choice, do I?”

Lana tucks the datapad away and, wordless, rests her other hand carefully on her shoulder. At first she thinks she’s trying to read her, but no- there’s nothing, not even a whisper of pressure, only silence. They’ve never been very good at apologizing, her or Lana; sometimes the quiet’s as close as they get.

She understands, though. None of them had a choice this time around, not when the other options were yield or die.

“Did you ever think about what you’d do when you retired?” Changing the subject, letting her go, Lana starts to move toward the door. They’ve got meetings, still, and packing and planning, before the morning comes. “Before all this happened, I mean."

“Not really, no. I always assumed I wouldn’t live that long.”

***

She’ll need to do some shopping once they get to Nar Shaddaa, but by half past one in the morning her bag is packed and ready and she sets it by the door. Time to sleep, then. With any luck she’ll manage four or five hours before their planned departure.

Twenty minutes later she sits up in bed, sweating and shaky, gasping for breath.

Only a dream, she tells herself. It was only a dream.

When she tries to settle herself, though, closing her eyes again, she’s right back in the moment: her fingernails scrabbling desperately on gloved hands as they tighten, digging into her exposed throat- this was supposed to be a training exercise i haven’t even got a weapon oh i can’t breathe it hurts i can’t - and she does the only thing she can, whips her head back hard until she feels something behind her give way with a sharp crunch and-

She throws off the blankets and springs out of bed.

“Fuck off, old man.” Her voice comes out a rasp in the darkness. “I’ve lived through worse than you. If you really want me to let you help, you need to work on your people skills.”

Valkorion doesn’t respond.

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, she stoops to pick up her shirt and trousers from the floor, dresses quickly, steps into her shoes. No sleep? Fine. She’ll get some more caf and read through the operational plan again. May as well do something useful.

The lower living quarters are quiet when she steps off the lift, doors shut and lights dimmed; she pads softly down the hallway toward the mess, finding that similarly empty save a few guards eating before morning watch begins. Nodding to them, she searches the shelf for an empty carafe- forget cups, she’s going to need more than that- and fills it to the brim.

She makes it halfway back down the corridor before a door slides open behind her. She turns out of reflex, looking back over her shoulder as a shadow-outlined figure leans against the doorframe-

“I thought you were going to sleep,” Theron says, barefoot in sleeping clothes, frowning down at her hands still clutching the carafe. “That doesn’t look like sleeping to me.”

“Yes, well-” still hoarse. So much for just a dream. She clears her throat, once and then again- “someone had other ideas. I’ll nap tomorrow.”

He sighs. “Another nightmare?”

“Another memory. A very old one. And I thought you were going to sleep.”

“I’ve been packing.” He gestures back toward his room. “But I might need to shop when we get there. I forgot my only other jacket’s got a hole through it, and I’m pretty sure you’re not going to let me wear my red one.”

She smiles a little, trying not to laugh. He never did like armor, but stars, the man’s attached to that damned thing. “You would be correct. We’ll go together- I need to pick up a couple of things, too.”

“Okay. But back to my original point: you need to sleep. You look-” a pause. Whatever he was going to say, he thought better of it. Instead, he takes her by the wrist and pulls her gently through the doorway; she doesn’t resist. “It didn’t seem this bad the last few nights.”

“It wasn’t. A few nightmares, but-”

Compared to the corridor his room’s so bright, the lights still on and his bag sitting half-full on his still-made bed, and she has to squint against the glare. When she can see properly again, Theron’s staring at her, mouth half-open.

“What the hell?” He lets go of her arm, raises his fingertips to her throat as she pulls away reflexively. “Your neck-”

“What are you talking about?”

These rooms really are small- she’s spent so little time in his quarters, or Lana’s, that she’s never realized it before, but it only takes them three steps to make it across to the ‘fresher cubicle and he slides the door open, turns her to face the mirror above the sink and-

She blanches and that only makes the bruises stand out more, two handprints fanned out in livid purple on her skin, and when she lifts her own hand to the marks they match, precise, down to the shallow scratches left by her nails.

(For a moment she isn’t sure if that’s better or worse.

Worse, she thinks.)

“It was a dream,” she whispers. “It was-”

He takes the caf pot from her grip, sets it down on the sink and then wraps both arms around her, just holding on tight.

“We should talk to Lana. Or Senya, or somebody- but this is crazy, Nine. I didn’t think he could do this.”

“Let them rest, for now. A few hours won’t matter.” Eyes closed, she sags back against him, fatigue finally crashing over her like so many waves. “I doubt there’s anything we can do, in any case.”

“There has to be something.” He turns her around and she rises onto tiptoes as he lifts her, her head resting on his shoulder, his arms around her waist. “You can’t not sleep.”

No, she supposes she can’t.

A few steps take them back out into the little room; Theron sets her down on the bed. Shoving a few pieces of kit into his bag before he digs into a side pocket, he moves it onto the floor and then sits, too, flipping the cap off a tube of bacta gel with a loud click. “Let’s at least get something on those bruises.”

“I’m fine.” It’s a lie, of course, and he knows it as well as she does- he doesn’t even say anything, just coats both palms in the gel and starts to work it slowly into her skin, careful not to use both hands at once, careful not to curl too tightly around her neck. Even so she has to fight her instincts, forcing herself to stay still, to not push him away.

He’s helping. He’s helping.

She breathes.

“That should help a little.” The last of the bacta absorbed into the bruises, Theron wipes his hands on the blanket as the tightness in her throat eases. “You want me to walk you back up to your room?”

Instead of answering she flops over backward, staring up at the ceiling. “After Corellia,” she says, counting the tiles above their heads- one, two, three, four. She used to do the same thing in her cabin. It had twenty-five and one-third tiles in four rows, wall to wall, an imprecision that always irritated her- “I had nightmares for months. Lokin made me take medication so I’d sleep. I hated it… have you ever used ryll?”

He nods, hand on her hair, smoothing it down with gentle strokes. “Once, when I was a lot younger. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Me either. The meds made me feel the same way- slow, stupid, half-floating. Like me, with all the edges filed off. But I didn’t dream.”

“That doesn’t sound like an answer,” Theron says.

More tiles- five, six, seven. She keeps counting; there’s a false sort of peace in mindless tasks, but a false peace is better than nothing. “It’s a bad answer. But if he can get to me that easily when I’m dreaming-”

“We’ll find another way.”  

“Maybe.”

“We will. C’mere.” He slips one arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her slightly until he can slide into the space between her head and the wall. “He wants at you, he’s going to have to get through me first.”

She thinks of Ziost, then, and flinches. “Don’t say that. He’ll get ideas. And I should get up- people will talk come morning, if-”

“Let ‘em.”

“You say that now.”

Despite his caution his knee nudges into her upper back and she shifts position as he mumbles an apology. “Pretty sure we’re not breaking any rules, are we?”

“No. But-”

Theron takes one of her hands in his, presses his mouth against the back of it, a kiss and a guidance both, pulling her up and along the bed. “Don’t worry about them, okay? Just try to sleep. If you start thrashing around too much, I’ll wake up and shake you out of it.”

“So neither of us sleep? That’s not much of an answer, either.”

“You didn’t dream as much the last few nights, right? It’s better than nothing.”

“True.” Theron’s settled back onto the bed, wedging pillows behind him; she curls her knees into her body, turning, until she’s stretched out beside him with her head against his chest. “Although I think I like my bed better.”

“More room, definitely. If you want, we can still go-”

She closes her eyes. “No. This is good.”

***

(The rest of the night passes, lulled into sleep by the rhythm of their breathing and the sound of his heart, and she does not dream.

It’s something.)

***

They’re a day out from landing- not that it matters, with an entire file full of false identities he can use; it’s not like any of them will be clearing customs with their real names- when she finally remembers to ask.

“So.” She spins around in the copilot’s chair, turning toward him, hands folded in her lap. “Theron, what exactly did you do to get yourself barred from Nar Shaddaa?”

He looks up from plotting their last few jumps with a shrug and a teasing grin. “Guess.”

“Public nudity- no, done that one, doesn’t merit a ban. Tried to carve a chunk out of Karagga’s statue?”

“Gold’s not my color,” he says. “Try again.”

“Sliced the slot machines at Club Vertica?”

Theron yawns. “There are way easier ways to make money that don’t involve getting your kneecaps broken by a very large Gamorrean. Nope.”

“Frankly, I’ve got no idea.” She stretches out one leg, taps the toe of her shoe against his thigh until he grabs at her foot, pinning it against the arm of the chair. “I’ve broken about every law on that trash heap of a moon, which is to say all three of them, and the most I ever had to do was send a gift basket full of credits. Tell me.”

“It’s way more fun making you guess.”

“I hate guessing-games.”

He tugs at one end of her shoelace. “Public nudity? Really?”

“It made for a very memorable alibi. I’m not ticklish, by the way, so don’t get any ideas.” That makes him stop, knot halfway undone, and she winks.

“You really want to know?” Abandoning the shoelace, he wraps his hand around her ankle, runs his thumb along the curve of her calf instead.

“I’m also-” she stretches out her other leg, batting at his hand- “not that easily distracted. Tell me.”

“Back in the SIS we used to swap ident cards sometime- it was easier to remember a name you knew, so we’d just transpose pictures. If someone got caught, you could prove you were off-planet pretty easily- the card must be a forgery, right? Give another false card as backup and everyone gets out easy.”

She tilts her head. Makes sense, but- “Your excuse is that someone else got busted using your ident as a cover?”

“I’ve been running on fakes since I left the SIS, so I didn’t even realize it’d happened until the other week. I was checking how much damage my fath-” he catches himself- “Jace had done to my clearances when it came up on the report.”

“Do you know who it was?”

Theron rolls his eyes. “Three guesses.”

“That little shit.” The minute he said it she knew exactly who it had to be- she doesn’t know that many other SIS agents by name and most of the ones she did are ones she’s killed- and when he grins she knows she’s right.

“It was a couple years ago, to be fair. Everyone was running scared back then, even after the surrender, and I’d already split for Wild Space. I can’t blame him that much.”

He does have a point. “Okay, then, what did Balkar do to get you kicked out of Hutt Space?”

“Vandalism.”

“No, seriously. What did he-” she flicks her feet again, perched on the edge of her chair, spanning the gap between them, and then yelps as he reaches forward off his seat and grabs her behind both knees. She pushes off, launching herself across, laughing, and when she lands on him he’s laughing, too.

“When you crash a pleasure barge into a moon,” Theron says, muffled against her chest, “apparently they consider that vandalism.”

***

Their first day on Nar Shaddaa is a surprise in three ways.

Her apartment’s untouched, first of all, her clothes still in the closets and even the maintenance droid still waiting patiently at the front entrance when they all pile out of the hovercab. She hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t paying rent on it, granted (the benefits of winning one’s housing), and the paperwork was under an alias- one couldn’t exactly sign contracts as Cipher Nine and not expect to attract attention- but she thought someone would have noticed she hadn’t set foot in the place in years.

It’s wartime, though. There must be a great many apartments sitting empty nowadays.

Second, Theron’s far less fussy than she’d thought he’d be when they go shopping. He draws the line at a printed shirt, but she talks him into new trousers, shirts and, miracle of miracles, a sleek black jacket.

(“I don’t even look like myself,” he says, turning in front of the mirror. “Are you sure about this one?”

“That’s rather the point.” She considers a moment, then turns to the salesgirl. “Though I’d go a size down on the jacket, don’t you think? Oversized seems to be the style, but-”

She could roll the girl’s tongue back up into her mouth, probably. Quite right- he looks delicious in proper clothing. “Oh, yes. That one’s definitely too big. Let me check in back.”)

It doesn’t take her long to dress for the evening. Half her old outfits will have to go, of course;  the saber scar makes that much clear. But most of them still fit, and after a few minutes she’s doing up the back of a high-necked minidress and slipping her feet into her second-favorite pair of heels.

“If you’re not wearing that blue one,” Kaliyo says from across the room, “can I have it?"

She throws it backward over her shoulder. “All yours, if you think it’ll still fit you. It’s been a while since you’ve borrowed my clothes.”

“It got over that ass of yours. It’ll work just fine on me.” Kaliyo snaps back, teasing, and it’s just like the old days for a second; she smiles to herself as she pulls a pair of earrings out of their box. “Come zip me, yeah?”

Lana speaks up from somewhere deep inside the larger closet. “I still don’t see why I have to change at all. My robes are fine.”

“For a nightclub? We’re walking in the front door: we’ve got to blend in. What would you normally wear?”

“You say that as though you’re assuming I normally go out. It’s a planning meeting tonight, not a party.” Accompanied by the sound of hangers clattering, she can barely see yellow eyes behind a row of dresses. “Don’t you own any trousers, Nine?”

“Of course I own trousers. Look to your left.” She points for emphasis.

More clattering, rather a lot of hopping, and a disgusted sigh- “How do you even- ugh. Never mind. Hold on.”

Kaliyo’s standing in front of the mirror on the far side of the room, the dress hanging loose around her chest until Nine goes across to her, drawing the zipper up along her spine. “If you want us to pick something out for you-”

“Oh, honestly. I can dress myself.” Lana steps out from between the shelves, and-

“Well, damn.” Kaliyo whistles. “Look at the legs on you, Beniko.”

Now that’s a surprise.

Rolling her eyes, a pair of shoes dangling from her fingertips, Lana gestures toward the door. “We’re going to be late. Let’s go.”

***

Author's Note: Another one gone to weird places on me, hence the change of title.

A difficult few weeks, life-wise, and some of that probably bled in here. Hopefully back in the groove now for the next chapter?

[chuckepisodes]

Chuck vs. The Fat Lady Part 3

You and Chuck came out of the shower, both only wrapped in towels still. You heard a knock on the door. "Chuck can you grab that? It's Casey and Sarah." "Yeah!" Chuck ran to the door quickly, opened it, only to find Jill standing there. Her jaw dropped when she saw you and Chuck, with only towels on and no clothes. "Jill!" "Jill?!" you turned, shocked! "How did you..." "The bellman sent me to your room. Is there something you want to tell me about you and Y/N?" "Ummmm..." Jill just shook her head and walked out. Chuck closed the door and turned to look at you. "Did you almost tell her about us?" "Yeah..." "Honey..." "I'm sorry. I just can't wait till this is all over and I can get Jill off of me and tell her we're dating." "I know. Me too." you told him as you stepped closer to him and hugged him.

Casey and Sarah finally arrived back and they tested what sprayed on you and Chuck. You and Chuck were both in robes now and pacing the room. "How long... how long does this thing take? Does-does this, does this give us the antidote? Because I think I feel my throat is closing up on me right now." you asked. The test was over. " What is it? What is it, flesh-eating bacteria or anthrax? Are we gonna die?" Chuck asked, all panicky. "Nope." Sarah confirmed. " But you can add ice and give it to little kids to sell on street corners." Casey added. " I knew it." Chuck started then turned to you." Drugs." "It's powdered fruit punch, dumb ass." Casey said. "Great... so we were fearing for each other's lives over fruit punch?" Chuck asked. "That's fantastic." you said, sarcastically. "Common spy problem." "Really?" Chuck said in a sarcastic tone.

You and Chuck went back to his place after that was all done. "Well that was...something." Chuck said as you both walked into his room, changed into pajamas, and plopped on his bed. " I still feel like an idiot freaking out over the fruit punch." You and Chuck laughed a little thinking about it. "What if we did get poisoned though? Seriously? There has so much we haven't done yet and-" "Baby. Relax. We're fine. We didn't get poisoned and we will live another day." "But-" "Ah!" you stopped him and placed a finger on his lips. "No." "But-" "Oh shut up Chuck." you then leaned over and grabbed his face and kissed him. You were kissing for a little when you finally pulled away and Chuck pulled you in close and you were both just cuddling now. "Not to ruin the mood or anything but...you do need to talk to Jill." "Yeah that did ruin the mood a bit." You giggled. "I'm sorry. But it is a part of your cover right now. Believe me I'd rather we just left it at that and she was gone but this mission still ain't done." "I know. Tomorrow though? I just want to enjoy tonight with you knowing she ain't going to bother me tonight." "Fine by me." you told him with a smile. Chuck smiled back at you and pulled you in close again and you both closed your eyes and went to sleep.

The next day, you were with Sarah and Casey down in Castle. You all turned when you heard the door open and saw Chuck walk in and to all of your surprise, Jill. "You brought her here?" Sarah asked. " Um... Bartowski, it's not a secret location if you invite people over." Casey said. " Okay, but Jill here, Jill knows about Guy's puzzles." Chuck explained. "They just found two dead FBI agents in LaFleur's room. Now's not the time to be planning game night." "Casey..." you started. " Jill, would you please tell them what you told me, about how the fruit punch might actually be a clue." "Guy's paranoia manifested itself in obscure ways: odd literary references, mathematical proofs. The log-on for his computer was a randomly selected word from a piece of Vogon poetry." Jill began. "So what do you think the fruit punch might mean?" you asked. "What kind of fruit punch was it?" "Uh, I guess, traditional fruit punch." Sarah answered. "You guess? Please tell me you got the exact formula." You all looked around, all having no answer. " Okay, um, is there a mass spectrometer around?" Jill asked Chuck. "Casey, get the spectrometer. Do we have one of those?" Chuck asked.

Jill was busy testing the box, while you and Chuck were standing next to each other, by the computer, while Sarah and Casey were standing on the other side. "Now we compare the crystalline powder's chemical composition with a list of known products." The results finally popped up on the computer. " It's, um, it's Rootin' Raspberry-flavored Hi-C." you said. "Rootin' Raspberry? Maybe... Maybe it has something to do with a football team or cheerleaders?" Jill guessed. " What about international waters?" Sarah asked. " High seas. That's good. That's good." " Wait, guys, guys, this is a music box. It's a music box. It's not high sea-- S-E-A. It's high "C, " like a musical note-- high "C. " " Chuck figured out. "Where's a pitch pipe when you need one?" you asked. Out of nowhere, Casey belted out a high C note and you all stared at him, wide eyed and shocked. But it worked and a slot opened in the box. "Hey!" Chuck said excited, then looked back up at Casey confused." What?" "Choir boy." Casey explained. You and Sarah looked at him amazed. "What? I wasn't hatched." "Ha-ha-ha! Check it out! Those are opera glasses." You and Chuck looked at them and you both the flashed on them. "Oh! No... actually, they're not. Um, this is a key. A key to a very super secret lock box." " The Culper Ring used to use stuff like that to pass information during the Revolutionary War days." you finished. "Wow, guys, that's impressive." Jill said, looking at you both. " Yeah, nice going there, brainiacs. But before you go getting all full of yourself-- if this is the key, where's the lock?" " The question, my dear Casey is: Where's the opera?" Chuck asked while you smirked at Casey.

You all made it to the opera, along with Jill too. Jill went along with you and Chuck while Casey and Sarah went off to do their thing. "You're not concerned to involve a civilian in a covert government investigation?" Sarah asked. "Ah, the girl's personal knowledge of Guy LaFleur makes her of use to us. What's the matter? Concerned for you new bestie?" "No...A little yes. I saw how Y/N was before her and Chuck were together. It was torture for her. Now she's basically forced to be apart from him again while we force Chuck to go on dates with his ex? It's messed up." "Ah whatever. It's almost done anyways. Now where are that doofuses?"

Jill brought you both to a booth. " Guy loved the opera. Here's his family's box." " Whoa! Not bad. You really feel like you're on top of the action." Chuck said. "How do you know what you're looking for?" Jill asked. " Oh, well... it'll match the end of this key." you began as you pulled the key out of your pocket." You know, something... something..." you and Chuck bent down to find something. You then saw a spot on the ground with a lock that matched the key perfectly. "Like this." "Shall we see what we got?" Chuck asked, smiling. You popped the the slot open and pulled out a box. " Bingo." you and Chuck said.

You all met up with Sarah and Casey on the stage, bringing the box to them. "Hey, we got it!" Chuck called out. " Mr. Kolfi, we'll be out of your hair in a minute, okay?" Casey told the director of the opera. " I don't have a minute. We are trying to rehearse." "This is a quick, quick, quick minute. You know, government stuff." Chuck said turning to him. "Watch out." Casey said as he opened up the box. A bomb was in there. " Casey, that's a bomb." Sarah said. "All right, rehearsal's over. Everyone out of here!" Everyone from the opera quickly cleared the theatre. "Come on, guys, let's go! We gotta go!" Sarah said, running over to grab your arm. " Wait! This doesn't make any sense. Guy wanted to help people, not hurt them. This isn't a bomb, this is a clue." Jill told Sarah. "Jill, if it looks like a bomb and it ticks like a bomb, then generally it's a bomb." " No, this is a puzzle we need to solve before the timer runs out." " And what if you're wrong?" You and Chuck looked at each other, both looking a little scared, but you both trusted Jill. She knew Guy the best. " That doesn't happen." " Look, it's a music thing. What's the opera?" you asked. Sarah stood there shocked at you guys. " Verdi's La Traviata." "Well, how does that go? You play violin, right?" Chuck asked. " Mm-hmm." " Your dad made you play the flute." you added, looking at Chuck. "Let's not bring that up." The three of you began to figure out the puzzle. " Come on. Come on. Get 'em all out! All of 'em! Go, go!" Casey said, still getting the people out. " It's not happening. Let's go. Chuck, Y/N come on!" Sarah urged. " Look, look, Jill has yet to be wrong, okay?" " She says it's not a bomb, I believe her." you added. With ten seconds left, you all figured the puzzle out and a flash drive popped up. "It's a flash drive. This must be it. That's how we do that, huh?" Chuck said, all proud. "We did it guys!" you cheered. Jill tried to kiss Chuck again but instead, Chuck quickly pulled you and Jill in for a group hug.

"The flash drive containing Guy's list is encrypted using a 512-bit AES cipher. Right now, the computer is trying every possible key against the encrypted data. When it finds a match, we'll have the identity of every FULCRUM agent with whom Guy was in contact." Beckman told Casey and Sarah. " How long will that take?" Sarah asked. "Could be hours, could be days. Excellent work, you two. Please thank the assets for their service." " Where are Chuck and Y/N right now?" Sarah asked. " My guess would be rounding second base." Casey said.

You and Chuck were back at his place, in his bedroom. "Okay... how amazing were we today?" you asked. "We were fantastic. But we wouldn't have been able to do that if it weren't for you finding it in the first place." "Or you figuring out the puzzle a whole lot more than me." "You know music." "Not that well." you said as you both sat down on his bed. "Does this mean this thing with Jill is almost over?" "God I hope so." You both sat their silent for a moment. "Babe...we are alone right now..." you started, looking at him and smirking. "True... And I have been wanting to kiss you so bad ever since we figured the puzzle out." "Then what are you waiting for? Come here." Chuck smiled and leaned in to kiss you. You slowly began to lie down on the bed as Chuck was still on top of you, kissing you. Then his phone decided to ring. "Oh come on." you both said at the same time. Chuck reached to grab it. It was Jill. "Answer it." you told him. "Hey Jill...No I am not busy." Chuck tried to say convincingly, getting up and off the bed. Chuck was on the phone with him for a couple then hung up and looked at you. "What is it?" "Jill wants to go on a little road trip with me." "Oh..." "I shouldn't go." "No Chuck... you have to. It's part of the cover." "But this is almost over." "I know it is...But for now it's still going on which means you still have to play the part." you said sadly. Chuck sighed. He knew you were right. "Okay...But I'll make sure my phone is on the whole time and you call me if there is an emergency or anything. Got it?" "Yes..." Chuck walked over to you and kneeled down in front of you as you sat on the edge of the bed. "Hey... I love you Y/N." "I love you too." "Come here." Chuck said, as he opened up his arms and you quickly accepted and you both wrapped your arms tightly around each other.

Chuck was now out with Jill and you went back home. As soon as you opened your door though, a man grabbed you. You tried to fight him but he ended up knocking you out, not before you were able to turn on your homing device, dragging you and throwing you into his van. It was the gunman from the hotel.

Sarah tried to get a hold of you but couldn't reach you and became concerned. She then saw you turned on your homing device and quickly called Chuck. "Hey Sarah. Is everything okay?" "No. I think Y/N's been taken." "I'm coming!"

"Jill, we need to go back!" "What? Why?" "Someone took Y/N!" "Sarah and Casey are there though. She'll be okay!" "Jill! Turn this car around." Chuck said, angry and scared.

[greyias]

Hop on the Crazy Train Guys! Spoilers and Rampant Speculation, Ahoy!

Hey guys, are you ready to hop on the Crazy Train? Find your tinfoil hats as I leap from the “Oh, that might make sense” discovery decrypted from the 5.4 Datamining into full on Conpsiracy Theorist mode. Full disclosure, I realize A) how ridiculous all this sounds; B) the extreme unlikliehood of this being the ACTUAL storyline is… low. But if it were. It would be a-MAZ-ing!

This my new pet Master Theory of the (SWTOR) Universe. And the answer, is not 42, as Douglas Adams might have us believe, but in fact 7-18-1-22-5-19-20-15-14-5. You can pry this ridiculous headcanon from my cold dead hands.

Spoilers, and wild speculation that grasps at the thinnest and most fragile of canonical straws, below the “Read More”. Leave your suspension of disbelief behind, because it’ll just drag you down.

So at the end of the revised letter discovered in the 5.4 datamining, in each of the variations on the letter that Theron sends, there’s an error message with a string of what appears to be random numbers. If you apply an alphanumeric cipher to them, it looks like he’s trying to say “It’s Zildrog” and gets cut off, hinting that perhaps everything is not as it seems. (Seeing as how we have to wait until next Tuesday to see if we do indeed receive this letter, well…)

So, anyway, let’s leap onto the crazy train guys. Starting where this whole traitor nonsense first cropped up, which was RageBot Tyth’s CAPSLOCKKKK speech at the end where he’s revealing that, *GASP* there’s a traitor in our midst. (This was pretty heavily hinted at from the first cut scene, that something was up). Let’s look at that speech, in all its Shifty, Capslocky glory:

YOU HAD NO CHOICE. YOU WERE LURED HERE. BLINDED BY DUTY. DISTRACTED BY TRUST. YOU DID NOT SEE THE BLADE TO YOUR NECK THE RAGE IN YOUR SHADOW. THE TRAITOR. YOU ARE BETRAYED.

There’s a dialogue option here that gives you three branched answers (if I’ve pulled from the proper datamining spot on TorCommunity), where you can be all “Bzuh? Why?” Or “You’re trying to trick me” or “I KNEW SOME MOFO WAS UP TO NO GOOD”: ONE MARKED BY ANGER. PAIN. HOPE ERODING. // RAGE FEEDS ON TRUTH // SUSPICION CORRODES

The first one… is interesting.

THE BETRAYER LURED YOU TO IOKATH. IGNITED WAR. SPARKED THE ENGINES OF RAGE, ENVY, PASSION, HATE, SORROW. THE BETRAYER NOW OFFERS YOU: SACRIFICE PRIME. FUEL FOR THE SIX GODS!

There’s an extra bit he says at the beginning too that’s interesting, but I’ll circle back around to that later, because it’s a bit of a tangent.

So, he specifically mentions that we’re blinded by our duty (doesn’t say to what), and we’re distracted by “trust”. There’s a “rage in (our) shadow”. They’ve lured us into this death trap with the specific intention of waking the old Zakuulan gods, in theory, to bring about the end of all organic life in the galaxy.

And if you’re thinking “Well, minus the genocide of the entire galaxy that sounds like it could be Theron! I mean, unless we’re like dating him and trying to rebuild everything and doing exactly what he has indicated that he wants up to this point”–hold on! Stop wallowing in despair, because I’ve got a better idea! It’s the Order of Zildrog!

Actually, I’ll do one even BETTER. It’s not just the Order of Zildrog. It’s Zildrog. As in, the old Zakuulan serpent demon who likes to sleep in the Endless Swamp, test warriors, and eventually wants to bring about the destruction of all life. Because that’s what crazy serpents of death do in their spare time. I mean sure, I could be 100% off base, being played by my own hopes, expectations, and cipher substitutions and grasping at the thinnest of straws here, but hear my crazy butt out!

After that speech, we all assumed that the traitor he was referring to, one who’s been at our side from “the beginning of it all” was person in the Alliance. But what if it wasn’t… a person? But still a member of the Alliance. An in fact, vital member of the Alliance.

What if it’s the Gravestone?

Okay, whoever hasn’t slowly backed out of this post at this point and unfollowed me, I assume you had picked “sentient warship of death and destruction” in the “Who is the Traitor?” betting pool as a joke, and are suddenly sweating and looking nervous. (“Am *I* a Scion? Can *I* see the future? That was a joke! I thought the theory of several jawas standing on each others’ backs wearing a robe made more sense!”)

And in a strange sort of way, this makes… a tiny bit of sense? There have been some things that have been nagging at me since we started KotFE/KOTET, but I had brushed them off as dues ex machinas and just weird plot holes. (I mean, they might still be. Sometimes things in SWTOR can be subtle as an anvil landing on your head) While this speech was going on, there was a tiny voice in me asking: What does this giant raging metal god of death care about me? How does he know this about some random person in my Alliance?

But a fellow mighty war machine from Iokath? Tyth just might know a thing or two about that.

“But Grey,” you say as you reach for a sedative as my ramblings start to reach a fever pitch, “you said this was about Zildrog. What does that have to do with the Gravestone? My lovingly loyal warship that I rescued from a swamp and has followed me into battle ever since?”

Well, what I’m saying (as I dodge that sedative to get out the rest of this wild hair that is likely unmoored in reality) is that the Gravestone IS Zildrog. And he’s finally making his move after pretending to be a loyal, stupid spaceship after all this time.

Hold on, let me put on my tinfoil hat and explain my insanity more. Because there are hints peppered throughout KotFE and KOTET that actually back this up. Ambient dialogue on Zakuul with both the Heralds of Zildrog and just random Zakuulans allude that Zildrog is like kind of the rebel of the God Pantheon (some don’t even consider him one of the Gods), hinting that maybe he fought with the other Gods. After the Iokath storyline, we find out that the Gods are actually Giant Mechas intended to play war games all over the galaxy, and Zakuul was one of their favorite worlds to destroy over and over, decimating that population constantly.

If you run about the place there’s all sorts of strange bits of lore about Zildrog that don’t seem to connect to the KotFE/KOTET storyline. Forgive me for I’m stuck at work and can’t go find all of the actual pieces of dialogue verbatim, but I just heard a lot of them this weekend running KotFE Chapter 7 (for unrelated reasons) and it goes something like this: Zildrog is a mythical “dragon” who is “sleeping” out in the Endless Swamp. Waiting to be awakened so he will one day return and “raze the world” and bring “death to all who did not believe”. He’s even got his own Death Cult! Cool! They’re just as insane as this theory, and fervently believe the Apocalypse is an Awesome Thing™. If only there was a way…

So, here we are, Outlander Extraordinaire, and we find this ancient warship out in the swamps. It’s called the GRAVEstone. A name that seems to indicate something ominous about its origins. It’s been whispered that its the only thing that ever stood up in a fight with the Eternal Fleet (which we now know also came from Iokath. As part of their War Game scenarios). It’s been a while since I’ve played that chapter and paid attention to the dialogue, but I recall Valkorion being a bit… vague about it. Like, possibly that he had no fucking clue it was there. (Or he did, hard to tell with Voidy McLiarface). It has this mysterious room that we spend at least two scenes in, and we’re like “Wow, this is weird”, and the game’s like “Yeah, isn’t it? Hahahaha, we better go stop Arcann now shouldn’t we little Outlander?” and you promptly forget about it until your next playthrough and you’re like “Yeah, this is still weird.”

Then we’ve got Scorpio, another Iokath droid, one of the more intelligent ones. She can talk to the Gravestone, interface with it directly. She tells us it has intelligence, an intelligence almost rivals hers. I think she even hints that it has its own purposes but that it won’t say what those are. Before we can delve into “Wait, are you saying that my brand new ancient starship is sentient?” oops! We gotta go stop Arcann again!

Then we’re in KOTET, we’ve just disarmed a fucking quantum bomb on board the Gravestone, when all of the sudden EVERY SINGLE SHIP IN THE FLEET + THE GRAVESTONE suddenly gets pulled back to its point of origin: Iokath. This is a really weird side trip considering its only purpose in the bigger plot of KOTET seems to be to explain the Fleet’s origins as well as give us some shiny new shield upgrades for when Vaylin attacks in Chapter 8 so we don’t immediately die. But hey, our Love Interest was super duper cute with us during this chapter and that was touching.

And then we defeat Vaylin, the Eternal Fleet goes feral and we have to tame it, we kick that stupid ghost out of our head once and for all, and we all live happily ever after! Yay! GO TEAM!

And then. We have to go back to Iokath. Everyone has to go back to Iokath, because a mysterious third party has suddenly slipped in information about these superweapons that literally no living character has memory of, or any reason to have memory of. Specifically, memories of ancient war machines that have been known to decimate entire organic populations, just because. One of their favorite hangouts being Ancient Zakuul, who built up an entire pantheon around them. The only justification for Theron knowing about this is that he plugged in during the Iokath chapters, but his behavior during that and subsequent chapters is either the best acting in the world, or suggests that he doesn’t know this at all. He in fact is the one who plugs back in, and finds evidence that explains the purpose of the superweapon. Dialogue on mine (because Light Side ftw baby!) indicates that maybe it’s Scorpio who’s giving you this information? But it’s vague, almost as if it’s someone else… like, say, an ancient artificial intelligence that lovingly takes you around the galaxy and lets you play with it’s big old Omnicannon? And it’s ignited another conflict, that has the potential to spread throughout the galaxy.

Oh yeah, and then there’s you. The latest in a line of people with control over the Eternal Fleet. Something that has been shown to mercilessly rain destruction on inhabited worlds like a mad dog unless someone is holding its leash. And hey, if you were, to say, be killed while sitting on a throne that information was planted for one of your trusty sidekicks to find, maybe it would be free to go about it’s business raining destruction on the galaxy. Oh, and those old slumbering “Gods” might wake up too, and go cause a few apocalypses of their own. And while everyone is distracted with all this dying, maybe that dark presence in that weird room might finally wake up and watch it’s handiwork.

Being limited as an AI on a warship, it might, say, I don’t know, send vague and cryptic messages to various opposing intelligence organizations. Possibly it had communication with that whole Death Cult that formed around it and lived in the swamp where it lived. Maybe it sent them some messages too, once the coast was clear, and the Eternal Fleet was no longer in opposition to it, now that it’s unwitting puppet had taken out every Zakuulan who had sat on the throne controlling it.

Or you know, Theron changed his clothes for the first time in his fucking life, threw on his Evil Cloak of Evil™, and said “Sorry bitches! It’s Apocalypse time! God I love dying horribly! Mwah ahahaha!” and rigged a train to explode. Because he’s just Extra™ like that I guess!

I mean, you know, who can say which theory is right? The straightforward one we’ve been led to believe with the 5.4 datamining retconning five years of character development for a pointless shocking twist, or the one with an ancient evil sentient warship that just wants to watch the Galaxy burn? I mean, they both have arguments in their favor, amirite?

Because I mean, I don’t know about you, but the only thing more bizarre than Theron being the traitor all along would be that we weren’t betrayed by a person all along, and no matter how many people Theron and Lana interrogated would they discover the culprit. Because who would think to turn to that giant hunk of metal parked outside and say “Hey buddy, sent any super secret encrypted transmissions with that intelligence we forgot about for 1.5 expansions?”

We were betrayed. By a fucking warship. OUR GODDAMN SHIP HAS BEEN PLAYING US ALL ALONG WHAT THE HELL BIOWARE I’M LAUGHING AND CRYING THIS IS SO INSANE IT CAN’T BE TRUE

Join me next time in “Insane Theory Land that Will Not Be True”, as I argue that Tenebrae/Vitiate/Valkorion, Master Manipulator and Devourer of Worlds was outsmarted and used by a sentient spaceship because lolololol. And—OH WAIT ONE LAST THING:

Back to Tyth’s speech. At the very beginning he says this: I AM ONE OF SIX. THE SIX BOW TO NO ONE.

The six gods in the Zakuul Pantheon: Izax, Scyva, Tyth, Aivela, Esne, Nahum. Zildrog isn’t included in that. Some believe he’s another form of Izax, the chief among the Old Gods. I’m nowhere near my PC right now and can’t double-check who is listed on the Iokath Operation, but… it was five bosses, not six right? Am I correct in remembering that Izax wasn’t listed?

Because there’s another funny thing about Izax you guys. There’s this whole “Watcher Izax” that’s mentioned by the guard captain in Chapter 6 who had gone off to the Core Worlds and didn’t come back. And then there’s Guss’s recruitment mission, where his master is named “Isaac”, and when we get back from that Sana Rae is very clear that there’s something very powerful, and very dangerous about this guy.

EVERYTHING IS CONNECTED. UP IS DOWN. NORTH IS SOUTH. WAKE UP SHEEPLE YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT.

(Okay I’m probably wrong.)

I mean, there are a lot of questions that still need to be answered: Why did the Gravestone start attacking the Eternal Fleet? If it’s part of the fleet, why is it the only Iokath ship, that looks different from all the rest by the by, that doesn’t need a Gemini droid to control it? Why did the Gods go to sleep? Why didn’t the Gravestone just wake itself up? Is the mud on Zakuul that sticky? The world may never know.