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chatsanova · 4 years

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Have Another Go At It and Hope For More Than Change: Ch 1

I’ve been sitting on this AU for a while and quarantine as left me more than enough time to write so here so trauma and angst ML fic. There’s some time fuckery, and swearing, as well as major character deaths (think Infinity War here)

AO3

“Cat Noir get back!” Chaos fills Paris as akuma victims attack from all sides.

“I’m not leaving you, my lady!” Bee, Rena, and Carapace have all fallen. It was just the two of them, with no options left.

“Noir, I’m not asking!” Hawkmoth and Paon, now a lot more powerful than the months before, attacked on both fronts, Le Paon causing large and terrifying creatures from the nightmares of people passed out on the streets. Ladybug lost her yo-yo to the reincarnated Jack-ady, Cat Noir’s staff broken in half by Dark Blade. They both had used through their Miraculous. Cataclysm barely effective, the Lucky Charm postponed the inevitable. They were surrounded by past villains, new and old. Some of them seemed to hold a grudge from the last time they were defeated. These were citizens of Paris that Ladybug had failed. She should have known it wasn’t enough to just capture akumas. She should have gone to the source. She should have been proactive. This was her fault.

“Fall back!” Cat screams but Ladybug’s thoughts drive her to hesitate and in a rumbling of the streets Stoneheart picks up Ladybug crushing her body down hard. She screams in pain and passes out in his hand.

“LADYBUG!” tears spill down his cheeks as he scrambles for some semblance of a plan. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Today was supposed to be normal.

The booming voice of Hawkmoth shakes the streets, “CAT NOIR, I’VE CAPTURED LADYBUG. I HAVE HER MIRACULOUS. GIVE UP YOURS AND I WILL GRANT YOU YOUR LIFE.”

Cat Noir collapses on the ground, holding back dry heaving sobs. Stoneheart releases Ladybug in front of Hawkmoth, her body drops like a sack of bricks. He can hear the thud. Hawkmoth reaches down. Cat Noir is stuck. Body heavy, tired. He can’t move, solidified to the ground as if he is part of it. He needs to save her. She’s hurt, she’s...about to be revealed. He has to… save her. He rises from the ground.

“I have to say, Cat Noir,” Hawkmoth drags out his words, as if he has all the time in the world, “You... are... loyal. Bring him to me.”

Someone, he doesn’t know who, lifts Cat Noir off the ground to drop him off at Hawkmoth’s feet. He buckles once more, pathetically. His knees are weak, and every muscle in his body shakes from exhaustion. Hawkmoth leans over and removes an earring from Ladybug’s ear. “No,” he attempts to scream, but his voice cracks instead. He wants to close his eyes, for her sake, but it’s too late. Her transformation slips off as Hawkmoth removes the second earring. Marinette. He thought about how he would react to this many nights before. What his reaction might be to seeing who his lady is. Would they see each other and have sudden epiphanies about how much they loved each other and celebrate with a dance atop the Eiffel Tower or the Notre Dame Cathedral? Together they could do anything. A joyful celebration of mutual love and respect seems so far away it might as well be a different universe. He sobs. He sees everything that she is. He loves her and didn’t save her. He didn’t stop this. He never ever wanted it to be this way. Quickly, pushing the hurt from his mind, he remembers where is his: on his knees in front of Hawkmoth. His sobs turn to anger.

“I can see it in you, Cat Noir. You’d do anything for her.” He’s tired and stiff, but can still retort with, “Including kill you.” If Ladybug and Cat Noir were balanced, and Ladybug was gone, what was he capable of?

“Bold words from someone who can barely stand. But you are missing the point. You and I, we are the same.” Ah yes, that thing villains love to do: pretend they are heroes after taking over the entire city of Paris.

“Don’t you ever compare me to you.” he spits at Hawkmoth’s feet.

“I would also do anything for the woman I love. That’s what this is all for. I lost my wife, and I intend to get her back.”

Then Le Paon walks out rolling a woman in a glass tube out onto the roof where they stand, then walks away again. Apparently she has better things to do. When he sees the encased woman, Cat Noir’s heart plummets. If it was possible to feel worse, kneeling next to Marinette’s limp body, he did. His mother. His mother is in that tube. My wife. Cat Noir retches.

“With the powers of the Ladybug’s and Cat Noir’s miraculous, I can bring her back to me. Nothing else matters. Nothing.”

“Not even your son?”

“What?”

“Tell me Hawkmoth, where is your son right now?”

Hawkmoth looks around, confused, “Who said anything about a son?”

“I did,” Cat Noir stands once more, leaning on the building if only to try to remove the sick, bitter feeling in his stomach. He replaces it with rages. Through gritted teeth, he says, “That’s Emelie Agreste. Which makes you Gabriel. Which makes me your son. Am I going too fast?”

“No, it’s not- it’s not possible!”

“Then where’s your son, Gabriel?” The blood drains from the villain’s face. The darkness in Adrien, the one the was almost required for someone to be Cat Noir, the miraculous of destruction, shows itself in the moments that he has lost everything, “Did you lose him in the chaos?” With the upper hand, he makes the choice to walk closer to Hawkmoth, “No, I think you lost him a long time ago. Yeah, around the same you lost her,” Adrien points finger roughly at his mother, “When we lost her. But no, there’s no we. There never was, was there, dad?” he spit the word so hard Gabriel looked stricken. Not a word, a bullet. “Now looks at this bitter irony, huh? Neither even realized it. HA! We never realized we were living under the same fucking roof as our sworn enemy!” he laughs in a scary, hysterical way that turns into a coughing fit, which causes a huge pang of pain throughout his body. Hawkmoth, stupid fucking Hawkmoth, stands there with a dumb look on his face.

“Adrien,” the word hurts him, “you can help me. You can help me bring your mother back. Just give me your miraculous!”

“Fuck you.”

“Adrien, I can fix everything! I can fix your mother! I can fix us! I can fix the whole world! Just give m--”

“Fuck. You. You’re delusional. You always have been! I thought it was some form of protection like you wanted to save me or something. But obviously it’s just so I wouldn’t stand in your way. Let’s send Adrien to this stupid charity event! Or this fucking photoshoot! Let’s keep him from the outside world completely and totally, that will keep him out of my hair! You are so stupid. You are so fucking dumb. And I WAS THE ONE STOPPING YOU! THE WHOLE TIME! HAHAHA. You wanted me out of your hair! HAHAHA” As his laughter crescendoed so did the pain. “Adrien, if you don’t give it to me, I will take it from you.”

The crazed smile on Cat Noir’s face drops suddenly, “Go for it. You ripped everything I love away, what’s one more, right? I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of giving it to you, you better kill me first. Rip it off my cold dead hand. Kill your son to bring back your wife. Go for it, asshole.” Le Paon appears again, “That can be arranged,” and Adrien hears a gunshot. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien woke up in a comfy bed in a large room.

The first thought that crossed his mind was “Am I dead?” No, wait. Of course not. Why did he think that? There was a dream. A weird dream.

“Adrien, mon cher, wake up you’re going to be late for school!” a woman’s voice comes from behind the door.

“Oui, oui, mère, Je suis réveillé.” For a moment the word “mère” feels weird on his tongue, but that quickly passes. He dresses in his normal clothes and goes downstairs to find his mother and father sitting at the table with a plate of tartine waiting for him. Once again, something feels off, only for a moment. Maybe it was that dream? There was a sudden surge of hate and bitterness toward his father before pushing it away. It would be strange to feel angry for something his father did in a dream.

“You’d better hurry, darling, Gorilla’s waiting outside.”

“Yeah, I’d better go. Love you!”

A chorus of nonchalant I love you’s follow him out the door.

“Good morning, Gorilla, how are you today.”

“Monsieur Adrien, are you okay?”

“Of course, I am, why would you think otherwise?”

“Well, monsieur, you’re crying.” Adrien reaches up to his cheek to find wet trails down his face. How could he be crying? “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s almost, well, happy?”

“I see. Well, I’m glad you’re in such a good mood!”

“Right…” Adrien looked at his hand, perplexed by the wetness from tears he didn’t even realize he had. _______________

The feeling of wrongness followed Adrien all day. He didn’t know where it came from, but his stomach was just a little wobbly. His friends were there, Alya, Nino, Chloe. They talked in the hallway. Chloe had had a very weird dream and started on a tangent, “And this butterfly just comes up and possesses me…” Nino looked oddly interested, odd only because he’s never had any interest in Chloe’s weird tangents before.

But before he could dwell too long on Chloe’s dream, Marinette walked in. She was just AURATING with wrong. Everything about her. There was nothing different that he could see, her dark, black hair fell down to lay on her shoulders, she wore a black v-neck t-shirt, black ripped jeans with a blue jean jacket. Her lips tinted red. Beautiful as always, but still, something felt off. He was sort of getting sick of this feeling, but then he noticed to look on Alya’s face, who was looking straight at Marinette.

“You feel it too.” He interrupted Chloe.

“What?” Alya snapped out of her daze to look at Adrien’s concerned face.

“The feeling. It’s been following me all day,” Adrien ignored Chloe’s offended face at being ignored, but Alya’s eyes widened, in confusion or fear, Adrien didn’t know.

“What feeling, dude?” Nino pulled himself away from his own thoughts.

“The feeling of complete and utter wrong.”

“Like reverse deja-vu.” Alya said suddenly, “Like something should feel familiar but doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you guys listen to me at all? That’s what I’m saying! This butterfly thing didn’t feel like a dream! It felt like a memory,” Chloe added, “That’s impossible, right?”

Nino looked down and said, “I think what’s more impossible is I had the same dream.”

They all turned to look at him.

“Ok, so what the hell is going on?” Adrien tried to reel himself in. It’s one thing to have a weird dream and a weird feeling, it’s an entirely different thing to have his friends experience the exact same thing.

“It’s probably a coincidence,” Nino said, “maybe we were watching the same YouTube video or some shit, the YouTube algorithms do that now.”

“Yeah, could be, or maybe that doesn’t make any sense at all.” Chloe thwacked his arm.

“Alya, did you have that dream?” Nino asked.

“I had one a little different. There was no purple butterfly but there was an arrow followed by a huge hateful feeling. It still felt weird though. What about you Adrien?”

“I did have a dream, I just… ugh, I don’t remember it as well. I just remember my father and the feeling of betrayal and a girl…I think she was dead, or unconscious or something,” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I just don’t remember it, but it sucked.”

“So we all had major crap dreams. What does that mean?” Chloe leaned against a locker, inspecting a fingernail.

“Well,” Alya considered, “Maybe let’s focus on the wrong feeling. We feel it more in different places, yeah? What feels wrong?”

“My entire house feels off,” Adrien thought about his big house, his mom, his father, the chorus of I love you’s. It felt nice. It felt happy. It felt wrong. As crappy as that was, his big happy house with the happy family felt so wrong it gave him vertigo.

“The news. Ladybug feels wrong.”

“Lady..bug?”

“Yeah, she was wreaking havoc all over again.” Yep, that definitely felt wrong.

“What feels the most wrong?”

“Marinette.” Alya’s eyes grew distant. The four of them collectively turned to Marinette, Who was talking to Kim as they entered the classroom. The pit in Adrien’s stomach got bigger and emptier.

“Adrien? Are you okay?” Nino glanced over at him. This wasn’t the first time he’s been asked that today, but it felt so much worse than earlier. This was heartbreak. Love and loss. It went away as suddenly as it came, but Nino had caught it, “You’re crying.”

So he was. The first time had been of joy, but this was a wave of brokenness. He needed to find out what the hell was going on.

“I hate this. I hate this guessing game. Why do we feel like this? WHAT. IS. GOING. ON.” he slung his backpack over his shoulder and marched inside the classroom and slammed his hand in front Marinette. She barely looked up at him. Wrong.

“Blondie.”

“Do you feel it?” Now she looked up.

“What?”

“Do you feel what we feel?”

“Are you crazy?” He felt a little crazy, but goddamn this day was the thing doing it. Marinette was the one doing it. She looked at him straight in the eye.

“The feeling that something...is wrong.”

“HA!” The laugh was bitter, “No, Adrien, I don’t feel what you’re feeling.” She rolled her eyes. Wrong.

“Um, Adrien, maybe not.” Alya pulled his arm away from the desk.

“Yeah, maybe cut her some slack.” Nino’s eyes looked sympathetic. Even Chloe looked like she just saw Adrien kick a puppy. They pulled him into the hallway.

“Maybe approaching Marinette like that after what happened to her parents isn't such a good idea, Adrien.”

“Her... parents?”

All three of them narrowed their eyes and furrowed their eyebrows in concern.

Alya started slowly, “Ladybug was involved with an attack on the Dupain-Cheng bakery.” Chloe pulled the news article up on her phone and showed him.

Oh right, Adrien didn’t remember until he did, if that made any sense, Marinette’s parents died 3 months ago.

Wrong. Wrong, so very wrong. The feeling made his tongue swell and his stomach into a pit. As Alya said it, her face twisted.

“Adrien, why do you seem more affected by it?” Nino mused, “You seem to “remember” less, you know? What else do you not remember?”

“How the hell am I supposed to answer th-” Adrien was cut off by a rumbling through the floor, “What was that?” The rumbling turned into straight-up shaking. Then the sound. It was deafening. Everyone in the class started screaming at once. There was screaming from outside. The rumbling lasted for what seemed like minutes and then trickled to a stop. Chloe frantically searched her phone but it didn’t take long to find out what had happened; she gasped at her phone, horrified. “Chlo?” The phone fell from her grasp and she buckled, “Chloe?” Alya and Nino rushed to her aide asking if she was okay, but she burst into tears. It wasn’t until Adrien picked up her now shattered phone that he saw what she was looking at: A live feed of the news played faintly from the speakers as the famous Parisian Hotel Chloe called home collapsed.“Oh my god.”

Chloe wailed from the floor as the rest of the class asked what happened, they must have seen the horror on Adrien’s face as everyone continued to panic.

“Adrien, what’s going on?”

“What happened?”

“Was it Ladybug?”

Adrien took a shaky breath and exhaled slowly, “Le Grand Paris collapsed.” Alya’s face went slack.

“WHAT?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN COLLAPSED?”

“WHAT COULD HAVE DONE THAT?”

Everyone seemed to have questions that already had an answer, it was Ladybug, obviously, she had caused the building to collapse but it was Marinette who asked the question that really needed asking: “How many people were inside?”

She looked distantly on the floor, numb from the events that had already happened in her life. This world, the wrong world that it was, was a war zone. Ladybug vs Paris. And Ladybug was winning.

The class went quiet, the only sounds heard came from Chloe on the ground, fetal position, dry sobbing, her voice scratched all the ears in the room. Adrien looked at his phone for more headlines only to see the same thing:

“SUPERVILLAIN STRIKES AGAIN AT LE GRAND PARIS”

“INVESTIGATION ON THE COLLAPSE OF PARIS HOTEL, IS LADYBUG INVOLVED?”

“WILL LADYBUG’S REIGN OF TERROR EVER END???”

“THE MAYOR OF PARIS, ANDRE BOURGEOIS AND WIFE CONFIRMED DEAD ON THE SCENE”

Marinette stood, the only one to seem to have her wits about her, and moved to Chloe.

“Hey, Chloe, come here.” She wrapped her arms around the blonde, who reciprocated. She let her cry. They had hated each other for years and years, but now was not the time for past rivalries. It hadn’t been since Mari’s parents… Well, there were far more important things. Far worse things.

Alya stood too, “Adrien...does it say anything about the other survivors?”

“It’s all too new, they… they only started investigating.”

“There’s no investigating to be done. It’s Ladybug. It has to be.” Alya clenched her fists. Nino put his hand on her shoulder.

“Well, yeah, but unless you can capture a supervillain there doesn’t seem to be a lot we can do.”

“WHERE IS THE GODDAMN TEACHER?” Alya slammed her fist on a nearby desk, “Aren’t there supposed to be some fucking adults here? Why are we dealing with this by OURSELVES?” It was a good question. They were in a room a 16-17 year olds, this was a national tragedy. Where was everyone?

At that, the class seemed to come out of their stupor and went to work. Max started setting up a live feed of the news on the projector, Kim and Alix ran to other classrooms to check if they were alright. No teachers there either, turns out. The rest got on their phones to see if their loved ones were ok. Adrien finally called his dad.

“Dad? Are you and mom okay?”

“We’re fine, are you with Chloe? Is she okay?”

“No, she’s not, but we are helping her.”

“Okay. Adrien, your mom says to stay inside, it’s a war zone out there, alright?” Adrien glanced out the window, debris and ash flooded the sky.

“Yeah, we’ll stay here.”

“Good, love you, son.”

“Love you too, Dad.” Adrien didn’t have time to dwell on the foreign feeling from the conversation. Suddenly the feeling in the pit of his stomach had virtually nothing to do with his dad and entirely to do with Ladybug. More students gathered in their classroom and Max’s live feed came onto the screen.

“Updates from Le Grand Paris, officials are pulling survivors from the wreckage, but so far only a few of the hundreds in the hotel seem to be alive. Among the dead, the mayor of Paris and his wife Andre and Andrey Bourgeois, rockstar Jagged Stone and many many more. Among the survivors are most of the kitchen staff, who had been in kitchens in the basement during the collapse.” Alya tried to hold in her relief, especially surrounded by so much tragedy, but hearing her mom is likely alive was the best news she received all day. “It is advised the people in Paris, especially within 4 miles of the hotel stay inside for the time being. The air is currently not safe to breathe due to ash and debris.”

After a few hours of painstaking waiting, Adrien decided to do something, it wasn’t the right time or place, but it seemed as though there was no other option, “Nino, Alya, Chloe, Marinette. Can I please talk to you in the hallway?”

Chloe had stopped sobbing a little while ago, too exhausted for more tears. Now she looked distant and numb, like Marinette had when the Le Grande Paris collapsed.

“Chloe, actually, if you don’t want to be a part of this--”

“Don’t, Agreste…” she threw her hand up to stop him from suggesting that she should be anywhere other than right here and stood, “Now more than ever, I know that something is very wrong. We need to fix it. And that starts with her,” Chloe pointed a thumb at Marinette.

“What? What does that mean?”

“Come on,” Adrien put his hand out to help Marinette off the floor. She’d been sitting with Chloe the whole time. She didn’t accept his hand, and stood herself.

“I don’t know what you guys think I’m responsible for but I’m not. Please just leave me out of it.” Marinette didn’t really look him in the eye, and futzed with her bangs.

“Mari, please.” The nickname made her squint at him, but his face was so pleading and panicked that she relented pretty quickly. He wasn’t alone in his resolve to look for a solution, a real solution that apparently no one else in Paris had, and all the people that did were crushed under Le Grand Paris.

Marinette followed Adrien out of the room to find Alya, Nino, and Chloe suddenly hush their conversation.

“Alright, what are you talking about?” Marinette crossed her arms.

“At most, solutions, at least, answers.” Nino shrugged.

“What makes you think I have them?”

“What all had weirdly eerie dreams last night, very similar to each other.” Adrien was talking softly, tiptoeing around her and possibly Chloe, like they were fragile. It pissed Mari off. Mari had come to realize Chloe as one of the strongest people she knew, bookended by these past few hours and right this second. She had lost her parents, and while surely still grieving, pushes for answers and solutions. She wasn’t fragile, not ever.

“Listen, Agreste, I didn’t have a dream last night, or the night before, or the night before that. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Honestly, Marinette, neither do I."

#tw major character death #tw #ml #miraculous ladybug #tw death #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #chloe bourgeois #tw trauma #tw parent death #ml fic #ml fic have another go at it

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spirit-of-the-void · 5 years

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Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter One

Author notes: So...so. This might as well be a thing, yeah? This is gonna be a multi part fanfic. I took a creative liberty and based some of the plot devices on dishonored and the outsider, pay them no mind. I hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter One

The Void was so cold and cloying.

You awoke in its black embrace, wrapped in chill and embers. Breath settling in lungs like a heavy, heady fog. Your eyes opened, taking in the dull glow, the suspended debris, the lonely gaze of a whale carcass floating by. There was nothingness here in the Void, an empty feeling that expanded into the darkness. Here you were alone, yet one with everything. A single voice calling into nothingness, a part of the chorus crying into the night. Your hand reached upwards—or was it down—as a chilled gasp escaped your pent-up lungs.

Awaken, his voice did speak.

You wouldn’t have awoken if “He” didn’t have a task for you. The mouthpiece of the Void, the forsaken man you sold your soul to. All those years ago. You could scarcely remember any time that wasn’t now. You sat up, body stiff and blood coursing fast through waking veins. You look at your hands, seeing the tone of your skin return. Your nails didn’t grow since you saw them last, a scar remained on your palm from...when did you get that scar? It belonged there, you knew that, but why?

Shake the cobwebs from your frame.

You stood, a cold, chilling wind passing over naked flesh. You were used to this cold by now, you did not shiver. The cold reminded you that you are alive. Your pale colored hair settled in the air, eyes now fully open, clarity returning. You knew what it was you had to do, and who you served. As the wind rushed past, you felt clothing settling on your frame. A blouse, waist hugging shorts, thigh highs. You preferred it like this. A feeling of normalcy followed, arms stretched over your head until joints popped and muscles groaned. Awake now, fully.

Your soul is his to keep.

You rolled your eyes at the whispering of the Void, rubbing them in the nest instant as you walked forward out of the dark cloud that had cradled you. Debris formed underneath you with each step, creating your path. This place had a flare for the over dramatic. Then again, so did the being that made its home here. At the very thought of him, the air in front of you shimmered and cracked, shards of dark crystals swirling and taking shape. No matter how hard you tried, you could never recall his face when you weren’t looking straight at it.

He is of all things, songs whispered to cradles and bones gnawed by teeth.

You sighed, staring at the one thing on him you remembered. His gaze, swallowed whole by darkness. Black eyes stared back from cold skin, and the man smiled.

“You look well rested, Y/N,” He said in a smooth purr, walking in a slow circle around you.

It was in your nature to wait until he prompted you to speak, hands clasped behind your back. You can't remember a time he ever laid his hands on you, always a few steps away. A distance, a reminder. He was a celestial being, something unknown and mysterious. More than the world and humanity itself. And you, born of mortal flesh and bone, made more by the Void’s whispering. You knew your place and your duties. You were just impatient to get to them.

“How do you feel?” He hummed when your silence persisted, head tilted to the side. The Void rustled his hair—what color was it again?

You shrugged, letting out a quiet yawn before replying.

“I feel fine enough,” You felt no pain, just a little lethargic, “A bit hungry. Will the place you send me have places to eat?”

He smiled—at least you think he did? And clasped his hands behind his back, “Aren’t you at least a slight bit curious of where you are going? And why?” He sounded amused at least.

“I assumed you were going to inform me,” Was your dry reply, “As you always do.”

He chuckled; the sound carried on soft blowing winds. His laughter seemed to echo into eternity, finally sending a chill up your spine. You were reluctant to admit you were eager to set out—tasks meant time away from the Void, in sunlight and warmth, fresh air and food. With people not consumed by an ever-present torment. You had no idea how long you had slept, but then again time had no meaning here and each dimension visited traveled at its own pace.

But you were sure he already knew that.

His feet tapped on stone, and it appeared he was doing laps around you again. You stifled a sigh, impatience building but mouth unable to say anything. Let him go at his own pace, patience will be rewarded right? You tried to tell yourself as much. With each passing second your mind began to buzz anew at the prospect of seeing new faces, learning new things. A warm shower, the feeling of lather in your hair. You never realized how important the little things were until spending time in the Void—despite the time you spent sleeping, it still left its mark on you. You couldn’t wait to do simple things. A sip of tea, the warmth of a hug. Would you be able to hug people there?

“I see you are as eager as ever,” The being before you hummed, his voice passing from one ear to another, “Perhaps I shouldn’t take up too much of your time?”

You bit your tongue, remembering he could know everything as you knew it. Pushing down the buzzing energy, you replied as neutral as you could, "Being in your presence is always a gift, Master. Do not rush on my account.”

He chuckled again, turning into a cloud of black crystal shards and shimmering back to your view. Taking form once more, he leveled his gaze on you. You saw his expression shift from amused to serious, at least from what you could recognize from him. All the years serving him had taught you well enough to notice his shifts in mood. How many years had it been again, since you took your first breath of cold air, since your soul was claimed in his name? The thought settled in your stomach like lead weights, a reminder of who you were. The taste of ice and metal settling on your tongue the more you inhaled the chilled air, each moment wasted could have been another moment free.

The Void was both comfort and a curse, pain and relief. Claws on your spine and balm on your soul. You straightened your back, gaze meeting his as the its whispers settled around you. Duty first, fun later right?

“You should know by now your duties and what it is I expect of you,” His tone was both flat and melodic, mingling together like nails on a chalkboard and wind-chimes. This was an order, and your body tensed immediately as you felt his energy seize you, “Something has tipped the balance, and it is your job to fix it. A blight, an impurity, a taint. It has tipped the scales of a dimension so far it threatens others.”

If he is a mouthpiece, you are a puppet.

He stepped closer to you, toe to toe now and just close enough you felt the chill of his breath. He smelled of salt and the ocean, of something dark and ancient and forbidden. You felt the black of your eyes swallow the irises, until your own eyes mimicked his. You were given an order to follow, it was now written in obsidian. The wind in the Void howled, louder and louder, until it was whipping against you like a hurricane. You felt as if you were beginning to fall, sight slipping away as the whispers and cries around you grew louder and louder, from all directions. Yet still above the chaos and noise you could feel his gaze, fixed on you. His voice was loud in your ear, yet still a whisper.

“You will travel to Redgrave city, and you will fix what disaster they have wrought. Do not disappoint me."

~~~

Upon waking, nausea was your first companion.

Disorientation and dizziness were close seconds. You were facing the sky, sounds around you muffled liked they were under water. Everything was like that at first, as if a haze of water was shielding your senses. Slowly, they began to rise as you blinked several times. You saw your hand, shielding your eyes from the sun, clouds drifting in and out of focus. It clicked with you a moment later—The sun! How long had it been since you felt its warmth, felt warmth at all? It had felt like ages despite you having no conception of the time you spent sleeping. Your senses returned, one by one as you sat up quickly—too quickly. Your stomach lurched a second later, a gag quickly swallowed and leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth.

Ugh, traveling from the Void to new locations was either a breeze or a nightmare. In this instance? A nightmare.

You groaned aloud, rubbing both hands down your face as you put your head between your knees, willing the world to stop tilting. Physicality sucked sometimes. Though you found yourself enjoying what you could register through the discomfort of your settling body. The air? Comfortable. Back? Warmed from the sun. Ground hard and breeze so forgiving and...what was the hell was that smell? On that breeze was a stench that sent your stomach rolling again. You gagged a few more times, lifting your head with a heavy cough and wiping your mouth. What the hell was that? You registered sulfur, ash, rot, and burning rubber. A cacophony of unpleasant things and very bad signals. Ash and sulfur usually meant demons, as did rot. As for burning rubber... you got your answer upon finally looking around.

You were on a concrete roof of what used to be an office building, or at least you assumed. Upon shakily coming to your feet you were able to see it was half submerged in water...along with dozens upon dozens of other broken, shattered buildings. Debris, everywhere. It looked like parts of the Earth’s crust had been displaced, jutting up from the ground with buildings still attached in the distance. What in the name of the Void had happened here? Mass destruction met your every glance. You could see smoke billowing up in several locations, ash floating on a gentle breeze that seemed a bit strange in the chaos. You could hear what sounded like a car alarm in the distance, and you found yourself seeing a lot of...spiky brambles? Big spiky brambles. Huge vines, weaving in between the buildings and chaos and...

What the fuck was that?

You found your eyes hovering on a towering behemoth in the sky. What in the freshest of hells were you looking at? It reached into the clouds, tall as a skyscraper. Swirling tendrils curled into a ball into the sky, almost like the branches of a tree, glowing red in place and dusting the land in light clouds of ash. A mixture of brambles and thorn, it painted a strange picture among all the chaos. You put your hands to your face again, blinking over and over as you tried to get your bearings. There was so much to unpack her. Strange monster tree, strange monster brambles, mass destruction. This was clearly the cause of the imbalance, but you knew virtually no information at that moment to form a plan of any kind. The first step was to figure out what those things were, why they were there, and how to get rid of them. If you were lucky.

“Fuck.” You muttered, disappointment filling you, “I somehow think I won't be getting a shower anytime soon.”

Luckily there was zero people around to hear you mumbling to yourself. You had to get your bearings on being a normal person again. You tapped your feet on the ground, stretching your arms and testing your body. Felt strong enough, felt sturdy enough. Everything was in the right places. You let out a slow breath, concentrating on activating the energy of the Void your body possessed. Instantly, a burning sensation slithered along your palms, glowing light blue marks traveling through your veins like glowing whale oil. The ground beneath you crackled to life, tendrils of energy emerging and swirling in a deadly dance around your feet. You quickly deactivated the energy, feeling it settle back inside with a low hum of power. Everything in its place and all things as they should be.

You were still sad about that shower though.

Stifling the disappointment, you stretched again, brain racing as you eyed the big, scary-looking tree in the distance. Most times you popped into a situation it was before everything had gone to hell. Whatever had happened to this place, “Redgrave city” was without foresight. You were put there with purpose, clearly there was something you were meant to find in this time, in this moment. Or maybe it was just the Deity playing his games. The thought had you sighing again, something you felt you would be doing a lot for this task. There was a lot of ground to cover, and you were unsure of where to start amongst all the bullshit.

That was until you heard the sound of loud, deep snarls in the distance, mingled with the sound of a building collapsing.

You immediately darted to the other side of the roof, griping a flag pole as your gaze searched the horizon. Almost immediately you saw something big, scary, and ugly in the distance. Oh, that was most certainly a demon. You could make out spikes and sharp teeth, horns and...a mouth on its stomach. This might as well be a thing, right? You made a visible face of disgust, watching its mighty jaws move and speak, but unable to see who it was speaking to, or make out what it was saying. That was a perfect place to start. You saw it jump down, out of view, and immediately pressed forward.

The Void gave you the speed and agility you needed to grip the pole, using it for leverage to springboard off the side of the building over the water. The Void power activated immediately, blue tendrils shooting out to grip the next building before you could land, sending you forward faster with each bound. A smile spread across your face, elation filling you now that the nausea and disorientation were gone. The air felt so warm, rushing past your body with each leap—like soaring. The impact of your feet was dulled by magic, the sensation of running so satisfying after not doing so for a long time. You connected to the next building, tilting back and arching your body down to graze your fingers along the water's surface. It felt cool, so real under your fingertips. It was real. You let out a light laugh, turning into a shout of delight as the momentum took you skyward again.

To be alive was a true gift, one you would not take for granted.

With each movement energy sizzled through your limbs, electrifying and slightly painful. Pain was welcome, a reminder. As you moved you kept your eyes on the cathedral you saw the creature standing on earlier. The closer you got, the more its voice became clear. Guttural, warped, demonic. It was cursing at someone, the sounds immediately followed by the rumble of a crumbling building. You skidded to a halt along the edge of a closer piece of debris, suspended by tendrils as your eyes searched for the creature again. Near enough to make out what it was saying now, filled with frustration and rage. Upon further focus, you saw it again—it was inside the cathedral now. What was he swatting at? Zipping white hair, bursts of energy and metal scraping on metal...

That looked like a human. It was.

Or at least, they looked it, you didn’t want to assume. A humanoid figure, fighting with the demon much to your shock and immense relief. Thank the gods and their glory, you wouldn’t just be interacting with just monsters for this task. Whoever this guy was, he sure was zipping around fast. Fighting the demon, you could make out just that much. You heard his light laughter in the chaos, mingled with...taunting. He was taunting the creature, making it more and more mad as it destroyed yet another wall of the building. Fascination and excitement filled you, along with a pleasant sense of watching an action scene play out like a movie. You were impressed—The little human guy seemed to be holding his own quite well. He was fast, wielding what looked to be a sword and slashing the creature over and over as they tumbled out into a courtyard.

You quickly and quietly leapt to the next building you could get attached to, peeking over the edge at the fight below with elated interest. You didn’t know what species this world had, but you were getting the feeling it was more than your garden variety humans. You were close now, hidden from sight but close enough to see the fight below with clarity. The man had short white hair, a cocky facial expression on a chiseled face. But more importantly, he had what looked to be a glowing metal arm on the right half of his body. He was using it to level this attack on the demon—who was a thousand times uglier up close. You ached for popcorn, watching the fight was certainly entertaining. The unfamiliar man grabbed the demon that must have been ten times bigger than he, whipping it around by its tail over and over before flinging it into a nearby building with a shout of elation.

Well. This was definitely the place to start.

Heart beating with excitement and fear, you slid down the side of the debris, unseen by the two fighting creatures. Your tendrils formed almost feathery paths on the water for you to walk on, taking you up so you could duck behind a nearby pile of broken concrete to quietly watch. The problem now was not getting attacked. Or at least seeing if this man was friendly. You lost count of how many times you had been attacked by those you were supposed to help—people jumped to conclusions a lot. Humans especially. You touched your hand to the concrete, peeking out lightly and pushing your hair over one shoulder. This fight was coming to an end, it would seem. You watched the creature fall into a building, sending it crumbling as wheezed and groaned.

“I must not be defeated...in a place like this...!” He rasped, pulling himself slowly up again, “The fruit...is mine...! I will rule the Underworld, not him...!”

Underworld? Him? You frowned, feeling like you were getting puzzle pieces, but all in the wrong order and zero clue to what the puzzle would form.

You saw the white haired man raise a gun, pointing it at the creature to more than likely provide the killing blow. But something stopped him. A rush of air, and the sound of flapping wings. You gaze darted up to see a dark blue, demonic bird swoop down to the demon, flying around it tauntingly as it tried to swat the bird away. It was a beautiful creature, despite the demonic edge it had. Deep, dark blue feathers flapping powerfully as it dodged the demon’s swiping claws, cackling all the while.

Then, from your right, a voice spoke out.

“I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,” The deep, smooth purr of a voice mused as a new face walked himself on the tattered courtyard, idly twirling a silver cane with each step, “That made my love so high and me, so low.”

This felt like the punchline to a very odd joke. A demon, a twink, and a goth walked into a bar—You had to bite your lip to stop a snort. All that time in the Void was making you insane. This new man was different from the other, another pretty boy all the same but carrying a very different vibe. Head down, black hair waving in the breeze and looking vaguely like he stepped out of a hot topic catalog. Did hot topics exist here? You shook your head to clear the thought, watching in curiosity as the newcomer approached. You recognized that poem he had quoted—it was by William Blake. Some things did cross dimensions it would seem. And what an odd thing, to stroll into a scene with your head down, reading poetry from a small leather-bound book.

The white-haired boy seemed to recognize the newcomer, lowering his gun as he approached the demon. The pale man’s back was now to you, and you found yourself fascinated with all you saw. He was covered in tattoos as well, ones that writhed as he rose his cane, pointing it at the distracted demon. You saw from its tip a burst of black energy, then a panther was bounding toward the demon. Before you could see what happened, the bird swooped near you, causing you to duck behind the debris just as the sound of blades rang out. You pressed to the concrete surface, hoping the demonic creature didn’t see you. Why were you so nervous? Probably because you always were when there was so much you didn’t understand.

A couple blue feathers fell near you, slowly falling to the ground as you heard more voices behind you.

“Why...why are you...?” The demon rasped weakly after you heard his body hit the ground hard, his voice carried on the light breeze around you.

“Little wander,” The voice of the man, the one with ebony hair. You slide down, back to the debris as you tried to keep as quiet as possible.

“Hie thee home...!” His voice was somehow...pleasant, melodic and smooth, even as you heard him grunt and the sound of his cane cutting through flesh. The demon released a pained cry, blood spurting on concrete hard to miss as he disintegrated. Or at least you thought so. You were too afraid to pop out yet. Your Void sense was tingling, your foresight warning you that something had already changed from your presence. Which wasn’t a good sign, considering you were hiding at that moment. But now the demon was dead, and you had no idea how to make yourself known or approach people. Dread curled in your gut, anxiety mingling with all the time you had missed in your slumber. The Void always left you messed up afterwards, yet also making you whole again.

The boy spoke now, his voice sounding pleasantly surprised as his footsteps moved toward the other man, “Thought I was gonna have to pick you out of his...uh...tummy teeth,” He grunted.

You twisted one of the feathers in your fingers, swallowing as the bird swooped overhead again.

“Pardon my delay,” Came the smooth, light toned reply, “I was catching up on some reading.”

“Yeah,” The white-haired boy replied, sounding pretty disinterested. You wished you could look and check but the sound of something crumbling made you hesitate, “Looks like a real page-turner.”

The men kept talking for a few moments, and you caught the name “Dante” and mention of an unfamiliar term. “Qliphoth” and “Qlipoth pollen”. You also learned immediately that your suspicions were correct—the thing in the sky was in fact a tree, a tree that grew in the underworld as the black-haired man told it. He was saying a lot of things you needed to hear, thank the lord. A blood sucking demon tree, that’s exactly the thing you weren’t hoping for. Not that specifically, but close enough right?

“If Dante is alive, we save him,” The boy huffed as he took in the information as well, his footsteps starting up again, “If not, we don’t.”

“Wait.” His footsteps were halted by the other man. That word alone sent a worried thrill up your spine. You felt like a kid playing hide and seek, right about to be caught.

“First we need to exterminate some...Qliphoth roots,” The man suggested, his tone lilting and smooth. You closed your eyes—goth man definitely had the voice for poetry. You remember a lecture in class once from a literature major, he used to read poetry all the time in a voice far less pleasant. The memory sent a twinge of pain through your skull, hand coming up to press the source as you winced. Remembering the past always lead to pain, you needed to remember that. Eyes always forward, not back. Besides, you had more important things to focus on. You debated following these men from a distance, observing them as best you could without being caught. Stealth was always an option.

You heard the feet start moving again, only to be halted by the one sentence you didn’t want to hear. Right above your head.

“So sorry, gentleman,” A grating voice said in an amused tone, causing your head to jerk up to see the bird staring down at you with glowing eyes, "We seem to have an audience...!”

Shit.

Your foresight suddenly flared, marking that you had altered the situation. Your presence was very known now, there was no doubting that. You gasped, lurching back in shock as the bird cackled lightly at your reaction. You weren’t fast enough. Sharp talons grasped you by the shoulders in the next instant, digging into skin as you were pulled into the air with ease. How could you have been such an idiot?! That time in the Void had definitely screwed with your focus. The bird was apparently strong, pulling your squirming form up over the debris and depositing you not too gracefully onto the ground right in front of the two men—the white haired man had his gun raised again, the other holding his cane pointed at you. Gaze lifted, you found yourself face to face with a snarling panther, eyes burning a vicious red as it took a step toward you.

You didn’t dare activate your powers, not yet. Not till you had a better grasp on the situation.

“A human survivor?” The white-haired boy said in surprise when you lifted your head, now seeing your face in the light. He was definitely a looker up close, they both were. You felt very small despite the level of power you knew you had. Anxiety never seemed to fade, you felt like you were in trouble. He still had his gun raised at you, and you definitely didn’t want to appear threatening.

You leaned back, a worried expression on your face as you whispered, “Um...please don’t shoot me?” It sounded like a question, even though you were sure you were not asking one.

Both men stared down at you, then at each other.

The black-haired man frowned, turning his gaze to you again and tilting his cane. He pressed the flat handle to your throat, tilting your chin up so they could closer inspect you.

“Human survivors are heavily unlikely,” He replied to an unasked question, lips curving into a wry smile, “So I highly doubt that’s the case. Though I’d also imagine if she meant to attack, she would have already, yes? Although,” Despite his smooth, gentle tone, the cane pressed a little harder, a warning of sorts as he continued, “Eavesdropping is...very rude, little miss.”

This man had very nice eyebrows, a strong nose, and full lips. You tried to focus on that instead of that growing fear you might fail your mission. Fighting the one lead you had was out of the question, and the Deity would not be happy. You gulped, trying to slow your heartbeat.

“I...wasn’t trying to...” You replied as calmly as you could manage with cold metal on your throat, “And I am human. I...i mean, not a normal human, sure, but I am a human.”

You were stuttering, you couldn’t help it. And technically you weren’t lying either. You were human in origin, made better by the energy of the Void. Half truths were better than outright lies.

The black haired man hummed, seeming to weigh your words as the twink asked, “What do you mean by ‘not a normal human’?” He pushed the cane away from your face, putting his gun in its holder and shooting the goth man a look that clearly said “back off”. He complied, a smirk on his lips as he retracted the cane and took a step back. You released a heavy, relieved breath you didn’t know you were holding, glad you no longer had the looming threat of a bullet and a poetry major of your head.

“I was born...gifted,” You replied hesitantly, accepted a hand when white-haired boy offered it to you and coming to your feet, “I have abilities, almost like magic. They are what helped me survive until now.” Again, not a lie.

Both men exchanged another glace, silence stretching for a few moments as they both thought over what you said. You looked at the panther still circling you, low growls coming from its chest. It was beautiful as well, black with swirling red glowing patterns in its fur. Your hand twitched, and you quickly stifling the urge to touch anything before you lost a hand. What the hell was wrong with you? Impulse control had never been a strong suit it would seem, though your brain at least knew well enough not to follow through. Especially not when these two men still didn’t seem to know how to handle you.

Before they could speak to you again, the screech of tires quickly approached. All three of you turned to see a giant van skidding harshly in your direction. You quickly leapt back with the men, but were flattered when the twink still stepped in front of you to protect you and goth boy grabbed your arm to pull you out of the way. Both looked at you when your agility registered, and all you could muster was a shrug.

A woman popped out of the window of the van, dark hair messy over a cute face with freckles over her nose and cheeks.

“I know I know I’m late. Shut it!” She quipped in a southern drawl, pointing at the two, “The roads were all clogged...!”

You heard the twink sigh lightly, pressing a hand to his head as he relaxed a bit. The girl in the van blinked, taking in the situation in a brief pass of her gaze.

“Uh... I know you must be V,” She pointed at the goth—his name was V obviously—before pointing one cutely painted nail at you, “Who’s the new girl? You didn’t mention ‘nuther person, Nero.”

V and Nero. Awesome, you now knew both names.

It took a second for you to realize that V was still griping your arm. Only when he released it did it click, the man taking a step back and tilting his head in observance of you. Nero let out another sigh, you turning in enough time to see him shrug.

“We don’t exactly know her,” He replied, leaning against the van with his metal arm, "Says she has powers though—what's your name, kid?”

You blinked, raising a brow at the word “kid”. You were young in appearance but you were pretty sure you were twenty when you sold your soul. And you looked twenty. Average height too, whereas Mr. Twink didn’t look a day over eighteen. His actual age was a mystery to you, but that didn’t matter at the moment.

“Y/N,” You replied, offering a small, but slightly annoyed smile, “And I’m not a kid. I turned twenty this year.” Big lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

Nero smirked cockily, shrugging as he pushed off from the van, “Noted. Can you fight?”

You nodded simply.

He grunted in reply, “Can you fight demons?”

You nodded again, “I can.” Not a lie. Demons were child's play.

The woman replied before Nero, smacking a hand on the side of the van as she hollered impatiently, “She’s in then! Now hurry it up, I don’t got all day!” She looked at you and pointed at herself, “My name is Nico, you come to me if you need shit, got that?”

You nodded again, offering a timid smile. Agreeing to everything seemed the best course of action. Nico seemed pleased, pulling back into the van—or maybe it was a variation of mobile home—with a chuckle. You looked over the vehicle with a mix of confusion and fascination. Bright neon letters lit up the side, “Devil May Cry” a hard thing to miss. It was on the tires as well. A brand? You wanted to ask, but that familiar flapping sounded overhead, and you turned in enough time to see V put out his arm. The bird swooped down to land on the provided appendage, rustling his feathers and leveling you with a sharp gaze. You immediately straightened your back, staring at him with a mixture of unease and awe.

“Simple as that huh? Just like that, the pretty little princess is a part of the gang!” The bird commented in a sharp tone, following it with a light cackle, “Just gonna take her word for it! Nero you are a genius!”

Everyone was just full of nicknames for you it would seem. You felt like someone else had called you “Princess” before. Only last time you were fairly certain it was an enemy and you broke its nose. You also decided in that moment that you didn’t like the nicknames, a frown settling on your lips as the bird met your challenging gaze with one of his own—beautiful bird, made of absolute bastard it would seem. You had dealt with things like that before.

“We can take all the help we can get,” Nero said in a tone heavily implying violence against this bird, pointing at him with his metal arm threateningly, “If you have any issues with my decision making I’ll be happy to discuss it with you.”

Seemed like there was little room for discussion.

“Oh boy, let’s all gang up on the bird for being the realistic one!” He cackled, but with less steam now, “If she ends up dead weight, just know i did warn you!”

You saw a muscle twitch under Nero’s eye, whatever he said making the boy very, very ticked. The bird leaned his head back, seeming to click right away with the realization of he said something wrong. You had zero idea of what line was crossed, but you wanted to ease the tension somehow.

“I assure you, I’ll be plenty useful,” You shrugged, easily drawing everyone’s attention to you again, “Though I’ll gladly recline the nickname ‘princess’ if you don’t mind.”

The bird seemed surprised you spoke, so you continued.

“How long were you sitting on that zinger, ten piece?” You kept your tone neutral, smiling again when his feathers puffed up in annoyance, “My name is Y/N, by the way. Just in case you couldn’t hear it over your own squawking.”

Much to your shock, your reply made mister goth smile. You saw just the back end of an amused smirk as he turned his head away to hide it, holding this bird up as it made an indignant series of noises at you. Nero relaxed a little, shaking his shoulders a little as he let the tension drop and turned away.

“Let’s not waste any more time, shall we?” V suggested, brushing past you lightly with a light hum, “There are plans to be made, and Qliphoth roots to be destroyed.”

Nero nodded and lead the charge as they headed to enter the van. You hesitated for a moment, watching the panther slink along behind its master and flicking its tail. You weren’t sure that you were meant to follow until Nico poked her head out again, making a motion to you and mouthing ‘can you pick that up?’ as she pointed to a demon horn on the ground. You paused, grabbed it, then looked up again to see her give a thumbs up, motioning eagerly for you to follow behind V inside. You let out a slightly relieved sigh, and made quick work of catching up to the man, observing him curiously all the while.

This is all you had for now, but you had a good feeling about this.

Read this on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/42881951

#devil may cry v #devil may cry #dmc v #dmc5 #dmcv #V #V dmc #V x reader #vxreader #self insert #v self insert #fanfic #this might as well be my new hyper fixation lmao #Ebony and Ivory #ebony and ivory chapter 1 #chapter 1

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spacebrick3 · 5 years

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The Malformation AU: Part 7

I’m having so much fun writing this AU, guys, it’s just amazing - and thanks again, cause I really can’t say it enough, to @writerofwriting for letting me use their amazing character of the Malformation!

Chapter 7 (Anechoi/Eris):

The thing in her head is not VAL. It has stopped pretending to be VAL. But she knows of no other name for it, and so the entity of broken magic inside her head remains VAL.

And she truly thrives on chaos. Eris doesn’t know how, but she can feel it growing stronger as they approach the outpost. Fear breeds chaos, and everybody has had time to know she is coming. Everybody has had time to watch the shaky videos, to see the explosions that rent and tore at the station in Sapphire. She knows they’re scared.

The few towers of Aquamarine rise over the icy hills, glowing a faint turquoise in the setting sun. This is the most isolated base on Mars, hidden deep in the south polar ice cap to mine water for the rest of the planet. Nobody wants to work here, so they are forced to, because the operations of this small station are vital.

How cute, VAL says as the train pulls into the dilapidated station. They’ve sent out a greeting party. And indeed they have, though ‘militia’ is probably more of an accurate description. Half a dozen people in spacesuits, unrecognizable beneath the mirrored visors and bulky fabric. Environmental suits can barely stand up to the cold here, though Eris herself is unaffected. Shall we see what they’re saying?

The remnants of VAL’s circuitry allows her to break into the radio communications, intercepting the signals traveling between the small group. “Is this the same one?” someone asks nervously. She guesses it’s the shorter one who’s currently leveling a trembling weapon at her, dark metal contrasting the blank snowfield beneath them.

“It looks like her,” another, more authoritative voice answers.

“So what do we do?” Nervous asks.

Gods, what an annoying conversation, VAL gripes as another voice joins the chorus. “Everyone just stay calm. We’ll be fine. Now, what is this all about?” The last question is directed at her, she guesses, as the lead figure steps forwards.

“She can’t hear us, you know. She doesn’t have a radio.” Like hell you know.

Leader stops, then shrugs. “Well, we didn’t have much to say to her anyway.” They raise their own weapon, pointing it directly at her face, along with the other five people there. “On my command-“

She doesn’t let them finish, tossing one of the mining explosives towards them in a trail of magic. It detonates, throwing shards of ice up from the ground and mixing them with the acidic smoke already blossoming into the air. All the light from the normal explosion seems to be sucked away, vanishing into the dark rays that stab towards the outpost. They fall short, obviously, but destruction is not their intended purpose. Not yet.

For the people in the outpost, the ones who chose not to join the now-ill-advised militia group, can see those tendrils. They can hear the sudden static falling over the radio chatter and the silence that follows, see her standing there with those same bands of shimmering magic circling around her. She turns towards the use, and she can feel the fear emanating from within.

The entity makes use of that fear, and the shifting magic around her snaps, splintering into a spiderweb of pulsing lines as it gathers energy from the souls clustered in the outpost. But it wants more. It - and through it her - tastes that this fear is only the beginning, hungers for the chaos it knows it can cause.

The outpost is a bastion of order, is part of the intricate system that keeps the whole planet running. But the smell of blood is in the air, that first taste that drives her forwards and starts her striding towards the base. She approaches, feeling the haze of Designer magic that keeps the base running already starting to wrap around her, probing at this unknown intruder. She lets them, mind already heavy with the vision of breaking each individual sigil like a twig and watching as the outpost crumbles around her.

It has few defenses, the outpost, built as the bare minimum to keep the water flowing. She rips through the few perimeter fences with ease, ignoring the long gash that one of the barbs manages to tear in her side. The few shots that do come her way are easily deflected, winging into the air with a trail of sparks. And with each step closer, the terror of those inside builds, fueling her rampage across the grounds.

She reaches the outer door, pressing a hand to it and watching as the hinges turn a dingy shade of grey before crumbling, letting the door crumple under its own weight as the structure within it breaks down. The interior looks almost familiar, dull blue lights illuminating a metal corridor, and she hesitates. Something at the back of her mind, a person almost forgotten, flashes into her awareness for a second before disappearing.

It’s nothing, VAL says contemptuously. Come on, we haven’t got all day. Places to be, you know. Another bolt of magic sizzles out and burns through the inner door, leaving only a gaping hole dripping with molten metal. She ducks through the edges, emerging into the dim and industrial corridors of Aquamarine proper. Pipes line the walls, dials and gauges measuring pressures and temperatures of a hundred different streams.

The thing inside her grins in anticipation, already building magic to tear the place apart. Sparks crackle around her fingertips, and she reaches for the pipes on the walls. A burst of steam jets out just from the heat of her approach. Right then. Let’s burn this place to the ground.

Wait! Eris shouts, pulling back without thinking.

Wait? Why, pray tell, should I wait?

She doesn’t know how she knows it, but she does. Aquamarine is a mining outpost. It pulls the ice from the ground, right? So this up here is just the refinery - if we stop here, we leave all the actual mining equipment in the ground. They’ll be able to get some replacement up quick, I think-

But we can destroy the refinery and then the equipment.

But we lose time and energy, she counters, and for nothing. Taking out the equipment will take out the refinery above, and we gain the same thing without spending a drop of magic extra.

VAL sounds unsure, but she lets the magic fall from her hands. Fine. Trust the expertise of a Martian.

Eris breathes a sigh of relief. At least now all the workers and technicians will have a chance to escape, she thinks. Wait. No. Maximum efficiency for killing the outpost. That’s all it is.

That’s all it is.

VAL doesn’t have the time to walk out of the outpost and around to the scaffolding that surrounds the crater in the ice. She bends down and presses the magic into the ground instead, snapping and twisting the bonds between the molecules that hold the floor together. And she casts it down, a column of burning magic that slices through all levels of the outpost, stopping only when it reaches the glistening ice hundreds of meters below. It bends and then it breaks, sending her plummeting through the torn metal edges.

She lands hard, shattering two layers of ice in a flash of magic. Pain shoots up her legs, and without the reinforcement of magic they likely would have broken several times over even in the Martian gravity. She stumbles, grabbing onto a nearby pipe for support to stop her collapsing to the ground, breathing hard as the corrupted magic works its way back and numbs the pain. Now we burn this place to the ground, VAL snarls. It’s not a question.

The Aquamarine pump extends deep into the ice cap, sending thousands of gallons (pounds? is ice measured in weight or volume? that same part of her wonders) up to the refinery every minute. But here, where it intersects the surface, is the point she’s going to break, destroying both the pump and the supports for the refinery above and sending it all crashing down into the crater.

It’s a practiced eye that guides her to place the explosives, connecting them with thin strands of magic. She can identify the structural weaknesses at a glance, noting where the intersections and rivets and bolts will weaken and collapse with just the right push. A fiery, kinetic push, but it’s the same thing. And on each one VAL places her own magic, readying the shattering bolts for the moment when each detonates.

Because she is gleeful. There’s no other word about it, that same anticipation for the moment when the outpost, built over years and a keystone of Martian society, will come crashing down. Reveling in the destruction that hasn’t even happened yet, the same way that someone might anticipate a meal they can already smell in the air, or a gift they know is wrapped and waiting for them.

Eris can’t feel the same way. Even as she arms each individual hemisphere, yellow lights blinking on, she can’t help the feeling that this is wrong. The thing in her head says that this is not her home, but she can’t shake the feeling that it is, and that when she’s destroying it she’s destroying her life as well.

Well, we’re not, VAL snaps. We are from a different universe and here to cause chaos and destruction. Get over yourself. She pushes the feeling aside, because VAL is right - she hasn’t lived here, doesn’t have any memories of it - but can’t get rid of the misgivings. The last of the explosives blinks yellow, armed and ready, and she nods.

Even eagerly awaiting the chaos, VAL isn’t an idiot. She drags them out of the crater, onto a nearby ridge of smudged and dirty ice, to watch. Eris, again, takes care not to look in the direction where she’s sure the evacuation forces are gathering. VAL doesn’t notice, too caught up with the energy she can taste coming her way. She starts the detonation with all the fury and hunger of a predator pouncing on its prey.

A deep vibration runs through the ice under her feet, shaking loose the top layer of snow. A bright flash echoes from beneath the outpost, but for a moment everything seems just as frozen as the ice cap. Then the spire tilts, the supports buckling and straining as the tendrils of jagged magic begin to pull at them. Sparks and glares of light fly from the refinery as the machinery breaks down, pipes and boilers bursting as the buildings collapse.

Steam jets out above it, ice and water together sublimating in the cold, thin martian air. And as it crumples in on itself, it pulls the edges of the crater in with it, shelves of ice sliding in to collapse on top of the disintegrating outpost. Shockwaves ripple out through the ground, the tactile counterpart to what must be an awful sound even in the thin air.

The entity of magic inside her head loves it, glories in the scene of devastation before it. It loses itself, just for a moment, the rush of energy and chaos overriding even its vicious sentience. And that’s why it doesn’t see the tears rolling down her eyes, doesn’t see her watching the fall of Aquamarine with bright eyes.

This isn’t its home. But it is hers.

Looks like the Malformation might not be as completely in control over Eris!Anechoi as it thinks...

Tag list (if you want to be added or removed, just let me know!):

@lady-redshield-writes, @no-url-ideas-tho, @ratracechronicler, @ken-kenwrites, @ravenpuffwriter, @cirianne, @lonelylibrary @maxbeewriting, @endlesshourglass, @thebloodstainedquill, @anip-ocs, @dreamwishing, @incandescent-creativity, @fatal-blow, @danafaithwriting, @wri-tten,

#malformation au #and happy new year!#first bit of writing going up in 2019 #hopefully it's good and a sign of more to come #malformation #anechoic #writerofwriting

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