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ayo-cowbelly · 4 years

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Always - Captain Rex x Reader (Maybe - Part 2)

Ahahahaha... back at it again *finger guns* I wanted to work on a series but this has been in my head and it won’t leave so... I went with it.

A little bit of AUing about where Rex went after the clone wars ended cause that’s just who i am. I made up the battle the reader is in during the beginning, cause *plot*. Okay this a/n is too long let’s just jump in.

Sorry this one is long, it kinda just flowed out of me. Hope you like it!

This is a part 2 to Maybe, so I recommend reading that first. Link can be found here.

taglist: @stevensfondue @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky cause they requested in the comments- probably wouldn’t have written this if they hadn’t requested so hope you two like it :)

Y/n: Your name.

masterlist

***

You kept a steady hand on the gunship handle as you and your men hurdled towards the surface of Ajan Kloss. The ship rocked as it dodged shots from Separatist cannons, some of them barely missing the sides. One shot was too close, and the explosion from it knocked one of your troops out of the LAAT/i- Rocket, was his name. He was a good friend of yours.

You shook the thoughts away, remembering to keep your mind in the present. No good would come out of getting distracted in battle; you had too much experience with that (a sore breakup being the cause) and you weren’t interested in it happening again.

“General!” You glanced up at Commander Blaze, your second. “The droids are too close! We won’t be able to make it to the landing site at this rate!”

“We’ll have to land farther back,” you went closer to the cockpit, using the Force to steady yourself. “Rush! We’re gonna have to touch down sooner than we thought. Land at coordinates,” you paused, remembering the holomap of the planet. “1137-4265!”

The pilot, Rush, nodded. “Got it, General! Hold on, this is gonna be a rough landing!”

You barely grabbed onto the handle before the LAAT/i tipped downwards, taking a steeper course to reach the (now closer) landing point. Your mind unconsciously went to another time, when you were in a situation much like this.

The gunship sped towards the ground of Geonosis, making this your second time in a battle here. You weren’t excited to be going back. But if the Separatists were building a factory here, something had to be done about it.

“General, you might want to hold on… I have a feeling this ship’s about to get unsteady.” You grinned at Rex, who was turned towards you, and you knew that under the helmet he was giving you a look for not grabbing the handles.

“Is that a challenge, Rex?” You always were one to make things… interesting, as you called it.

Others called it being unnecessarily reckless, but to each their own.

He shook his head, rocking a bit as the LAAT/i swerved. You narrowly avoided falling over in the cramped ship. “‘Course not, Sir. I just don’t feel like dealing with a missing general today.”

“Is that so? Well, I promise I won’t go missing. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be subdued today. After all, the fun is in the risk.” Still, though, you reached up and gripped the handle, just to be safe.

“Why did I have to get stuck with the adrenaline-junkie Jedi?” He muttered more to himself than you.

“Oh, come on. We make things entertaining,” you teased. “You love us.”

You felt something change in his Force signature when you said that, a feeling you couldn’t place. Not a bad one, but it was uneasy- secretive. But also… warm? You couldn’t see his face under the helmet, and you didn’t know what you’d find there if you could.

Just then, the ship tilted sharply, and you practically went over the side, if not for an arm grabbing yours. Your hold on the handle had relaxed during your banter with Rex.

Speaking of him, he was gently but hurriedly pulling you back in the ship, grabbing the attention of your Co-General.

“Y/n! Be careful!” Anakin yelled over the blasts outside.

“Sorry!” You held the hand grip on the ceiling stronger than before. No matter how rash you seemed, you really didn’t want to fall out of the LAAT/i. You looked back at Rex, who was tilting his head as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“Yeah, yeah, you warned me. I’ll be careful.” You winked at your Captain, and you sensed that strange feeling flicker in his Force signature again.

***

Four days later, your fighter had been brought down to the surface of the jungle planet, along with more tanks, troops, and cannons. There had been reports of droids massing on Ajan Kloss, and they had been right. When you arrived, the numbers of enemies on the planet had been bigger than reported. Luckily, however, there weren’t many casualties in the battles that had taken place in the last few days.

You sat in your tent, mulling over your data pad. There were reports of many battles, including the recent one over Coruscant.

Apparently there was another siege going on- on Mandalore, of all places. At first, you had no idea why there would be a campaign there. It was a peaceful world in neutral space.

Until you remembered… Maul’s rise to power. And the death of Duchess Kryze. It was still jarring to think of it. Maul’s return was so sudden- Mandalore was just Mandalore, a reformed planet of peace. Until it wasn’t. The planet had become something much different following the death of its rightful ruler.

You wondered who was leading the siege. The company number, the 332nd, wasn’t one you recognized. Then again, these days, there were so many battalions, it was likely you just hadn’t noticed it before.

Then you saw…

332nd company

Commanding officer(s): Clone Commander CT-7567 “Rex”

Second-in-command: Advisor Ahsoka Tano

You didn’t bother reading the rest. Rex? And Ahsoka? You hadn’t seen her since her trial all those months ago. It still hurt to think of her, a young girl you thought of as your little sister (yes, you had grown apart following your leaving the 501st. But you had been together for so long, it was inevitable that the Togruta felt like family. And you still saw each other sometimes on Coruscant or on a joint mission, and you still cared about her as much as you did before).

The same could be said for someone else. Someone whose name you tried to forget. Someone who… who stabbed at your heart when their face entered your mind. Who made your stomach flutter, who made you cry, someone you loved deeply- no matter how much time passed.

You couldn’t… you couldn’t think of him right now. There was planning to do.

But Force, you hoped he was safe.

***

The Force was screaming. With pain, and betrayal, and hurt. So much hurt.

Bonds you had were snapping one by one, being severed quickly by something… strange. And painful. And every time a life force was extinguished, it was as if you were them; so many shots hitting you, phantom burns on your skin. And you didn’t know why; were they dying? How? Why?

whywhywhywhy-

You grabbed at your chest, stumbling. The Jedi… they were… no. Please, no.

What is going on? How could this be happening?

It hurts. Stop. Stop. Stop.

You fell on one knee, your face scrunching in pain. You wanted it to go away. You wanted it all to go away. This can’t be happening, please, let it stop, let it STOP, STOP-

stopstopstopstopstop

Your troops… they were acting strange. Their force signatures felt… off, you realized. As you shakily stood up, trying to regain your footing, you looked around at them all. Your thoughts raced.

The force is unbalanced, what is going on, why are they DYING-

You saw your commander out of the corner of your eye. Normally, Blaze was very diligent about the health of the troops, and that included you. Usually he’d be forcing you to the medic tent if he saw you like this. But now…

You watched in shock as he raised his blaster toward you. Turning around, you saw the other men do the same.

Wait, what? No, stop, why, this is wrong… wrongwrongwrong something is WRONG-

“B-Blaze,” your voice faltered. “What… what are you doing?”

“Quiet, traitor.”

And the clones opened fire.

***

“Anakin? What’s wrong?” You stared worriedly at the comm, the holographic form of your friend wavering a bit through the unsteady connection. You saw the dark circles under his eyes, they had grown in the time you’d been apart.

“Something’s happened. It’s not good. Really not good.”

Your brow furrowed. “Okay. What is it?” He didn’t answer at first, worrying you. “Ani?” You hadn’t used the nickname since you were children, when you were nothing more than Initiates, when there wasn’t a war.

“It’s Fives.”

Fives. You hadn’t seen him in a long time. But back in the 501st, he was one of your closest friends. You realized you hadn’t been comming him enough, something you’d have to work on. “What about him?”

“He’s… he’s dead, Y/n.”

“W-what? How? Why?”

Anakin sighed. “I don’t really know. It happened so fast. Something about chips, and a plot… he went insane. Tried to kill the Chancellor.”

It was like the wind was knocked out of you. The Fives you knew, your friend, wouldn’t… he wouldn’t. You ran your hand over your face as sadness filled you.

“How did-” you fiddled with your hands. “How did Rex take it?”

“Not good,” Anakin said softly. “He was there, when it happened. We both were. He held Fives as he died.”

“Oh, no…” Your lip quivered. How you wished you could’ve been there. For Rex.

For Fives.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I know you and Fives were close.”

You nodded. “I should… I should go. Lots to do.” Anakin opened his mouth to say something, but you ended the call before he could.

In the solace of your quarters, you quietly let the tears fall.

***

You slumped over in your chair as you entered hyperspace. You vaguely remembered setting the navicomputer to Dantooine, but it felt like a dream.

Actually, the entire last hour felt like a dream.

You remembered your men, the ones you trusted with your life, raising their weapons at you. Calling you a traitor. And firing.

You remembered drawing your lightsaber and dodging, heading for your fighter.

You remembered sprinting. And cursing. Adrenaline taking over. And shots grazing your skin, three ringing true. You checked over your body, at the wounds. Those would have to be taken care of soon.

You remembered taking off, flying as fast as your ship could go. Docking with the hyperdrive ring that you stationed in the atmosphere. And then…

Well, now you watched as the bright blue stars whizzed by.

The Force was still in pain. It wasn’t screaming anymore, but wounded. Deeply wounded, like someone had slashed at it with a lightsaber. A chasm of pain was flowing through it, because of-

No. They couldn’t be-

Couldn’t be-

Dead.

No-

Why-

The clones-

The pain-

The betrayal-

What is happening?

What happened to them?

Why? Why? WHY?

whywhywhywhywhywhy-

And in your fighter, you screamed.

***

Dantooine was peaceful.

Peace… peace seemed unattainable, but it was something you were happy to chase after.

No matter how long it took, no matter how alone you were, you wanted to find peace.

***

About six months after you arrived on Dantooine, you searched the Force. It was the first time you could truly bear opening yourself up to it. Before, it had still been reeling with the deaths -murders- of your people, and the agony had been so heavy that you couldn’t open up to the Force for more than a few minutes, sometimes seconds, at a time.

This time, even though it still hurt, you probed the Force around you. Trying, hoping, to find someone you knew who was still alive. You wanted, needed, to find someone to reach out to. The solitude of being a fugitive was getting to you.

Yes, there were many clones to be found, but they…

They weren’t an option. Not anymore.

(Blaze, your remarkable commander, was in the hands of the Galactic Empire. He was one of your closest friends, once. Until-)

You wondered, in those harrowing months, what had happened to your beloved Captain. Was he still out there, was he part of the Empire, or dead-

Maybe it’d be better if he was… then I’d know he wasn’t one of their puppets-

Y/n, how could you think that?!

Why did it have to come to this?

As you delicately explored the force, shying away from the split bonds (they burned when you touched them), you wondered-

Maybe, if he was alive, what if your bond was still there?

You wanted to find out. After all, you realized, I never did want to live without him. I don’t think I can anymore.

That wasn’t the Jedi way.

But the Jedi-

They were gone.

***

“Rex, I- I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n. We’re in this together. Always.”

***

The thread of your bond with him had frayed a bit, but it was still there. A bond that came from loving someone so deeply wouldn’t have gone away in a few months of separation.

Not when you still loved him so.

Even if he was-

If he was-

If he-

If he was one of them, an Imperial- well, you didn’t care. You had to see him again. If he came here with a squadron and terminated you, a traitorous Jedi… you weren’t sure if you cared.

If the last thing you saw was him, that would be enough. A dark thought, yes, but then again, all your thoughts had been a little dark lately.

You tugged on the thread. Gathering your strength, you sent a message. Come find me, love.

Dantooine. I’m here. Coordinates 2247-3656.

I love you. I always have. I always will.

Come find me.

***

A week went by.

Nothing.

So you tried again.

Dantooine. I’m still here. 2247-3656.

Come find me. Please.

I love you.

Again and again, for weeks.

Come find me, Rex.

I’m alive.

Dantooine. 2247-3656.

***

After two months of this went by, you decided to try one last time.

Dantooine. 2247-3656.

I’ll be here, love. Always.

***

Another month went by before it happened.

You lived on a small farm, and you were in the fields when the engines of a ship filled your ears.

Seeing as your farm was significantly far from others, you knew that whoever it was had to be here for you.

And suddenly, a presence you hadn’t felt in much too long was filling your senses.

He came.

You watched, frozen, as he approached. You hadn’t really seen each other since your separation, almost two years ago. You hadn’t had a real conversation since then, either. Holo or otherwise.

But that didn’t matter.

Snapping out of your daze, you ran to him with tears in your eyes. Crashing into his arms, you sobbed as he held you.

“I wasn’t sure if it was real, I thought I was going crazy- I’m so happy you’re alive,” He said softly.

“I never stopped. Loving you, I mean. I- I never want- to let you go again,” You choked out.

You felt him hold you tighter. “Me too. I love you, Y/n. We’re in this together.”

Pulling back slightly, you traced his cheekbone as you whispered, “Always.”

There were dark times ahead. But with him by your side, you would get through it.

Always.

Fin.

#hehe i like writing angst #typing fingers went wheee and this came out #captain rex x reader #captain rex #clone trooper rex #rex x reader #rex x you #captain rex x you #tcw reader insert #tcw fic #clone x reader #order 66 #revenge of the sith #captain rex x y/n #rex x y/n #captain rex x jedi!reader

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dettiot · 4 years

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Fic: late-night interruption 5/?

late-night interruption Author: dettiot Rating: G (for now) Summary: When Obi-Wan receives a late-night comm from Sabé, he’s not sure what to expect. But what he learns will change many lives . . . and the fate of the Republic.

Also available on AO3!

XXX

There was a disturbance in the Force.

Most beings would stand in the office of the Supreme Chancellor and, if their attention was not held by being in the presence of the most powerful man in the galaxy, be entirely focused on the view through the transparisteel windows. No matter the hour, traffic surged around Coruscant’s buildings, moving its two trillion citizens to workplaces or home or recreation sites.

But for Darth Sidious, Coruscant was only a drop of water in the ocean when it came to his interests. In truth, the entirety of the known galaxy was simply where he would start--but with the vast unexplored regions, there were so many beings, unaffiliated with the Republic yet, that he would bring under his control one day.

That would be his glorious future. Whenever he considered it, the Force swirled in a dark, soothing mass around him. In the present moment, however, he could sense something changing. Something that felt wrong.

Reaching out, Sidious focused on the change. It seemed to be coalesced around certain people, and his lips twisted into a snarl as he realized just who the Force was working upon.

Senator Padmé Amidala. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. And most troubling of all: Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.

If it was simply the matter of Amidala’s brat being born soon, he would understand this stirring. Anakin’s offspring would be powerful in the Force. And when his child came without its father being present, Anakin would blame the Jedi Order. It would be another wedge between his future apprentice and the Jedi High Council.

But it wasn’t just the “happy couple” at the center of the Force’s gyrations. What did the Force care about Kenobi in this moment?

Before he could begin to explore the disturbance further, his comm chimed and he had to take a moment to smooth his face into something suitable for Chancellor Palpatine.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear to keep up the pretense. To wait for his destiny. Especially with the Force’s newfound movement, being more active than it had been in decades. It was practically dancing.

Tapping his finger on the button, he accepted the comm and growled, “Yes?”

“Good evening, Chancellor,” Mas Amedda said, his voice dripping with deferential courtesy. “There is action in the Senate on another clone rights bill--”

“Another bill which will go nowhere,” Sidious ordered. “There are no clone rights.”

Amedda bowed, but his sense hummed with a subtle resentment. “I am attempting to do as you wish, Chancellor, however, I have received word that the Kaminoans supporting this latest bill.”

“They have no Senate seat,” he sniffed. “Clearly, this is a ploy, in preparation for our upcoming negotiations.”

“Yes, Chancellor,” Amedda said.

The lack of initiative in Amedda was becoming more and more of a problem. But on the other hand, his loyalty was unquestioning. Any servant’s gifts came with tradeoffs, Sidious acknowledged to himself.

“I will speak to the Kaminoans. Keep the Senate in line and kill the very idea of clone rights,” Sidious said.

Amedda inclined his head. “Yes, Chancellor. Have a good evening.”

Without any further words, Sidious ended the comm and looked out at the view once again. He reached for the Force but found his insight was . . . blocked. All he could feel was a disgusting light. He grimaced and turned back to his desk.

These infernal petty problems--clone rights, war strategy, the Senate’s bickering--soon, none of them would matter. Soon, the galaxy would answer to him.

And so would the Force.

XXX

Although most of Naboo’s population wasn’t overtly religious, Sabé had been brought up in a family that was less spiritual than most. She had always focused on the here and now, on her own actions, instead of thinking about what came after death. And she had been satisfied with her life and what she would accomplish before she died, without the assistance of any gods or goddesses.

Yet she had begun to reconsider her perspective. Because seeing her best friend in such pain made her wish she could call upon a deity for help.

“Don’t push, Senator,” Gahan urged her as Sabé held her hand. “Not quite yet.”

Padmé nodded, her teeth gritted. The contraction passed and she slumped back on the bed, breathing hard.

Sabé lifted a damp cloth and sponged Padmé’s forehead. “You’re doing so well, Padmé,” she soothed her. “Just a little longer.”

Nodding a little, Padmé closed her eyes. “Where’s Anakin? Is he here yet?”

“Soon--he’ll get here soon,” Sabé promised. “Master Kenobi messaged me when they entered orbit around Coruscant.”

“Master Kenobi?” Padmé said, blinking. “Obi-Wan is coming?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Sabé said, “Yes?”

Padmé still looked confused, but then she smiled weakly. “That’s--that’s good. I’m glad. Anakin--Anakin is scared for me--he’ll need Obi-Wan.”

Anakin wasn’t the only one who was scared, Sabé thought. She glanced at Healer Gahan, who remained as calm and steady as a pond. But it seemed to her that the healer’s calm was very practiced. Like she was pretending for Padmé’s sake.

“Sabé . . . could I please have some juice?”

Before Sabé could reply, the healer said smoothly, “I’m afraid that’s not wise, Senator. But you may have some ice chips.”

“I’ll get them for you, Padmé,” Sabé said, giving her forehead another quick wipe before heading to the kitchen.

The healer followed her, which was fine with Sabé. As soon as they were out of earshot, she whirled around and pinned the Mon Cal with her glare. “What’s wrong with Padmé?”

“Nothing more than she is in labor,” Gahan said, her large, glassy eyes blinking. “The Senator is a small woman; she will need to be fully dilated to deliver safely. There is also her anxiety about her husband being here. That is unfortunately increasing her pain, too. I’m sure as soon as her husband arrives, the Senator will have an easier time of it.”

Sabé breathed out, feeling her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

“You are a good friend to the Senator,” the healer said politely. “I have one more scan to run on the Senator--I do find the Senator’s condition concerning, but I believe with this final scan, we will be well-prepared for the delivery.”

“All right,” Sabé said. “I’ll get the ice chips for Padmé. Thank you, Healer Gahan.”

“You’re welcome,” the healer said with a nod of her head before returning to Padmé’s room.

Something still seemed not quite right to Sabé, but then, she had never been part of something like this before. She didn’t have older sisters and Padmé was the first of her friends to become pregnant. And she never had any thought of having children herself.

All of this was as new to her as it was to Padmé. And Padmé needed her right now.

That meant she shouldn’t stand around worrying. She should get those ice chips and get back to Padmé.

With a shake of her head, Sabé did what was needed. With a large glass brimming with ice, she walked back into the bedroom, just in time to hear Padmé say, in a loud voice, “What?!?”

“What is it, Padmé?” Sabé asked, stepping over towards her.

Padmé looked up at Sabé, her eyes wide and dark and, for the first time ever, full of fear for her life.

XXX

He knew what he should be focusing on. The idea that the Chancellor was a Sith Lord . . . it was horrifying, terrifying. Not just for what it could mean for the galaxy, but because how could the Jedi not realize this? How had Palpatine hidden his power, to the extent that he read as a non-Force-sensitive?

Yet all Obi-Wan could think about was Satine.

The Satine in the meditation he had shared with Anakin . . . he had never seen her like that. Her hair loose around her face, but shorter than he had ever seen it. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but there were new lines around her eyes, hinting at age--or pain. And her jumpsuit, dirty and faded, was a far cry from her regal gowns. Not even during their year on the run had she allowed herself to look so bedraggled.

It all pointed towards a Force vision, a glimpse into the future. But . . . how could it be true? How could Satine be alive?

Meditation usually calmed him, gave him answers to the questions he sought. But this time, all he had were questions. And given the current situation, it would be up to him to find the answers.

Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin, who was gripping the speeder controls so hard, his knuckles were white.

Yes, definitely up to him.

Not that he could fault Anakin for his distraction. Not with his worries for Padmé. And Anakin could never focus on anything else if someone he cared about was in trouble. It was a quality which had provoked Obi-Wan to exasperation at times--but also to gratitude, since otherwise, he might not be alive.

Obi-Wan took a breath and sought for Padmé’s presence amid the trillions of souls on the surface of Coruscant. Once he found her, he winced at the pain radiating off her. But the strength underneath that pain gave him hope.

Looking over at Anakin, Obi-Wan spoke in a raised tone, to be heard over the wind whipping past the speeder’s canopy. “Padmé seems to be handling her pain well.”

If anything, his attempt at reassurance backfired, because Anakin sped up. “She shouldn’t ever be in pain,” he said, his jaw tight.

“Some pain is unavoidable, Anakin--you know this,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice gentle.

He shook his head, his distress plain to see. Obi-Wan reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I know I should be worrying about what we saw,” Anakin said slowly, his eyes focused on the view through the windshield. “About the Chancellor . . . and about Satine. But all I can think about is Padmé. About my dreams.”

“I understand, Anakin, I do,” Obi-Wan said. “But I saw Padmé holding a baby in our vision. We both saw that. It seems the Force itself says her future is not what you saw in your dreams.”

“Then what do my dreams mean? They felt so real, Obi-Wan . . .”

Anakin’s voice sounded miserable. He was flying without his usual smooth fluidity, jerking the steering column to get around obstacles in their path.

“Crashing the speeder won’t help Padmé or solve the question of what will happen,” Obi-Wan said crisply. “And Padmé is going to need you to be calm and supportive.”

His former Padawan gave him a look dripping with frustration, but at least he slowed the speeder and took a few deep breaths. Obi-Wan sent him a gentle swell of peace and hope, which helped reduce a little of the fear in Anakin’s presence. Enough that his face smoothed and his thoughts seemed to untangle.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said after a moment.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said.

Glancing at Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself thinking. No matter how much Obi-Wan had taught him to avoid attachment, Anakin seemed completely unable to do so. And it troubled Obi-Wan, seeing Anakin be so fearful of loss. Not simply because of the danger of giving in to that fear . . . but also, how did such a reaction impact the people that Anakin cared about?

Over the years, Obi-Wan had observed Anakin being wildly overprotective of Padmé, even though she was very capable of defending herself. What if, at some point in the future, Anakin’s worry came into conflict with Padmé’s sense of independence? How would Anakin handle that--and how would Padmé?

It made him think of that year with Satine. How Qui-Gon had taught him to respect Satine’s autonomy. To not take over tasks simply because he was a Jedi--to let her learn so she could help herself.

“If we give someone a fish, they eat today,” Master Qui-Gon would tell him. “But if we teach someone to fish, they will eat every day for the rest of their lives.”

That approach always seemed to be successful, even though it conflicted with his sense of personal responsibility. When had he stopped believing in teaching people and begun taking over? Was it the war--the lives he felt responsible for? Or was it a flaw within himself?

Perhaps he had failed Anakin, by simply taking a black-and-white approach to attachment, instead of teaching him all the shades of gray that came from having relationships. And perhaps Anakin had taken the wrong message from his stance on avoiding attachments.

Given what he knew about Obi-Wan’s own feelings for Satine . . . it was quite likely Anakin saw him as a hypocrite. Which would explain why Anakin had never told Obi-Wan about his marriage.

It was something to consider going forward, Obi-Wan acknowledged. Something he would want to talk to Anakin about, after the baby had arrived and Anakin saw that Padmé would be all right.

The Jedi had always believed that Padawan and Master learned from each other. Somewhere along the way, though, he had stopped learning, and it had cost both of them. But at least now that he could see his failings, he could work to correct them. He could help Anakin.

The speeder coming to a stop snapped Obi-Wan out of his thoughts and he looked around. Anakin had docked the speeder at the private landing platform by Padmé’s apartment, but . . . he wasn’t moving.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked. “We’re here.”

“I--I know,” he said, his hands clasped together tightly in his lap.

This was odd. Obi-Wan frowned and gently touched Anakin’s shoulder. Under his fingertips, Anakin’s muscles felt like rocks.

His Force presence reminded Obi-Wan of a bantha on the verge of stampeding. Terrified, uncertain, wanting to move yet wanting to stay still . . .

He opened his mouth to prod Anakin, to remind him of Padmé, only to stop and shake his head. Of course Anakin didn’t need a reminder of Padmé in this moment.

“I promise you, Anakin, Padmé is not going to die.”

“You--you can’t--you can’t promise that, Master,” Anakin said, his voice hitching.

“Yes, I can,” Obi-Wan said, his voice equal parts gentle and firm. “Because Padmé is strong and loves you very much. And I’m sure she loves your child just as much. She is not about to leave you both behind.”

Anakin’s blue eyes were full of tears when he looked at Obi-Wan. “You--you think so?”

Obi-Wan smiled, putting all his reassurance and confidence into his voice and his presence. “I know so. Now, come along. I wouldn’t want to tell Padmé that I had to drag you to her side.”

“Ohhhh, I’d be in so much trouble,” Anakin said. He sprang to his feet and somersaulted over Obi-Wan’s head, landing lightly and taking off for the entrance to the apartment from the landing platform.

With only a pause to chuckle, Obi-Wan hurried after Anakin, following him to what must be Padmé’s bedroom--to their bedroom.

The moment he stepped into the room, Obi-Wan felt like he was intruding. Anakin paused on his way to Padmé only to give Obi-Wan a look that told him not to leave. And then Anakin was kneeling on the bed and taking Padmé’s hand, smiling at her.

“Hi, angel,” he said softly, his voice filled with so much love. It made Obi-Wan swallow as he realized just how much Anakin loved Padmé.

“Ani,” she breathed out, looking up at him. The Senator’s face was flushed, her hair sticking to her temples from the sweat trickling down her forehead. “Ani, you’re here.”

There was something strange in Padmé’s presence, Obi-Wan thought. A trace of fear, a few flickers of uncertainty, just underneath a wave of joy.

“Of course I am,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Mr. Naberrie, I presume,” the Mon Cal healer said from the foot of the bed, where she was doing something between Padmé’s spread and bent legs.

Obi-Wan quickly looked away, catching Anakin’s wide-eyed, pleased smile. Anakin didn’t correct the healer when he spoke. “Yes--how is she doing?”

“Very well, other than a little surprise,” the healer said in an unruffled voice.

Sabé, holding Padmé’s other hand, snorted and Anakin frowned.

“A surprise?” he asked, looking over at Obi-Wan with a worried expression before looking back at Padmé.

Padmé nodded and gripped Anakin’s hand, a wide smile lighting up her tired face. “Oh, Ani--it’s twins!”

End, Chapter 5

#anidala #obitine #star wars

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forever-more-never-again · 5 years

Text

It’s Too Scary, You Have to Help Me (A Natasha Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 3451

Pairing: Natasha X Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Gore, Horror! Creatures! Panic, Suicidal ideals

Request: Hi! <3 ur blog!!! Can I request a Nat x R (romantic) /Avengers x R imagine? This random idea came to mind after I re-watched Stephen King’s IT…R has an ability: thought projection & they’re still working on control. cool power + one MAJOR drawback. Reading/watching something scary leads to thoughts of: "what if this person/being was real, have some/all of their abilities, and are focused on tormenting me?” R inadvertently brings their fear to life. Major Angst w/ fluff at the end? Thank you!! Hey! This may not be necessary, but I wanted to clarify: regarding the Nat x R / Avengers x R request in which the R has the power of thought projection: it is the ability to alter reality through their own imagination and the degree of permanence these changes have depends on the circumstances…

a/n: So while I didn’t use ‘IT’ I did use another Stephen King Creation...The Mist! I didn’t really know how to end it, but I hope you like it! And enjoy all the terror, angst and Horror!

Masterlist

“Run!�� Your voice echoed through the tech floor of the tower.

Tony jolted from where he was bent over one of his workbenches, Bruce doing the same from a table away. They shared a concerned look before Bruce booked it to the Hulk containment unit they had built after you had joined the team.

Tony ran to the comm unit that was wired throughout the Tower, “Run Code 2689! FRIDAY Alert the team!” Before his suit enveloped his body and he scanned the area.

“Where is [Y/n]!? Tony!?” Natasha’s concerned voice came clear into Tony’s ear comm, alerting him that she was back from her mission and hadn’t had time to take off her suit yet.

“Not sure where they are yet. They are somewhere on Floor Beta. Not sure what is happening, so be on the lookout.”

Natasha took a calming breath. She wasn't scared of you. No, it was the opposite, she was scared for you. Your powers were strong and strange. And they hurt you, mentally and sometimes physically. It was to be expected of someone who had thought projection paired with a reality altering ability. It didn’t help that Clint liked to play pranks and show you scary movies, which could affect your control since it was linked to how strong your thoughts on a certain subject became.

Natasha did not want a repeat of Godzilla. That was a hassle to explain to the Media and keep you out of Government facilities and testing centers.

Natasha ran down the staircase, half listening as the rest of the team came online and searched for her lover and whatever they had conjured up this time.

“So...I think I know what set them off this time.” A contrite sounding Vision said through the comms.

Natasha growled, “I was expecting Clint to be the troublemaker, not you Vision. What did you do to [Y/n]?”

Wanda barked, tone a little defensive, “Don’t go blaming Vision! [Y/n] is a new addition to the team, Vision didn’t know that he had to be careful about what he showed them.”

“No one is blaming anyone! Right now we need to focus on finding and calming down [Y/n]! Vision, what did you show [Y/n].” Steve’s commanding Captain voice shut everyone up.

Natasha had made it to floor Beta by then, and found Tony standing guard by his Lab. Through the thick Plexiglass, she saw Bruce sitting in the Hulk Containment unit, listening in to the Team’s conversation through the Comm unit attached.

“Well, you know that new movie that came out yesterday? My core recently uploaded it to my system and I was showing [Y/n] how it worked and my projector turned out and they may have seen a couple minutes of The Mist Monsters.”

Natasha groaned, “And what are the monsters?” She steeled herself, she would do whatever she had to to protect you. She loved you too much to see the terror and pain that would come if you found out you had hurt anyone with your abilities.

Vision coughed, a little chagrined, “Well… Expect to be in mist so thick you can’t see through it…”

Natasha cursed under her breath, briefly noting Tony doing the same.

“And the monsters, while never outwardly shown, seem to be some sort of cannibalistic tentacle creature that tortures their victims by tearing off body parts to hear their screams.”

Natasha heard Bucky’s sharp intake, “This is going to be worse than Godzilla.”

She agreed, but, “We just have to find [Y/n] and convince them that it’s not real and that they are safe. That the mist and the creatures are not real.”

And that was honestly the hardest part. They could fight and battle creatures of horror and terror all day long. Hell it was a normal tuesday for the Avenger’s. But trying to calm someone who could alter reality, who thought that what they created WAS reality, was harder. Especially when they made their projections have some form of permanence, which meant they could hurt people, possibly kill them. Which would have an effect on [Y/n]’s mentality.

Steve cleared his throat, and everybody could hear the nervous tone, though no one commented on it, “Alright team. Stay in groups, No one by themselves, and if you see [Y/n], containment and contact. Make sure they know you are real.”

Natasha nodded and that was when things went to shit.

“Tony.”

“I see it.”

Her and Tony adjusted to face the slow rolling Mist that was creeping towards them from the hallway.

Looking sideways, Natasha saw Bruce double over in pain and green pulse through his body. It seemed the Mist was affecting the Hulk.

Turning back, to focus all her attention to the threat in front of her, She drew her gun out of her holster and steadied herself, drawing in a centering breath.

“Stay next to me.” Tony ordered, pressing so that his metal clad leg was touching Natasha’s leather one. The contact making sure that they knew where they were as all to soon they were encased in mist so thick, it was almost like Cement.

Natasha whispered, not sure where anything was in the grey mass, “Vision, how does the Mist end.”

Vision’s voice was just as quiet, and Natasha could hear Wanda and Clint whispering in the background, clueing her in that they were together, “I believe the main character tries to escape with his son and some others in a car, but they run out of gas and in a fit of desperation he shoots everyone but can’t kill himself since he runs out of bullets, but as soon as he kills his son, the mist clears to show the military there to save them. It’s truly a sad ending.”

“Fuck. I don’t care about how sad it it. This just means that [Y/n] may have their gun with them and be desperate enough to kill us to ‘save’ us from the monsters they have created.”

From the horrified gasps echoed through the comms, Natasha deduced that no one else had thought of that.

“Looks like Ground and floors 2-5 are not affected. Bucky and I are in the control center on Ground Alpha and trying to monitor from there. Vision, Wanda, Clint, there’s a motion sensor going haywire on Ground Clarence where you are near, stay alert. No heat signature is detected, so it may be one of these monsters.”

“Run! Stay away! Nat!”

Natasha’s head jerked at your screams.

Tony made to grad her arm, but not being able to see her, even though she was only less than a few inches away, but missed as the weight and feel of her leg against his was suddenly gone.

“Natasha! Get back here! Steve! Natasha just ran off. She heard something in the Mist that I couldn’t. I think there’s more to this than just monsters.” Tony shot off a blast as he thought he saw movement behind him.

The mist didn’t even dissipate as the heat went through it.

Steve cursed, “Fuck! Natasha. Come in. I see a heat signature on Ground Beta, but I want to confirm it’s you. Natasha?”

Natasha couldn’t respond to her concerned teammates, she could hear the terror and panic in your voice as you continued to scream, and the only thing she could think of was helping you and showing you that she was unhurt.

“Natasha! It’s too scary! You have to help me! Please! The monster’s will kill you! They’re going to kill me!”

Your voice suddenly cut off and Natasha froze at the sudden silence. The Mist colagating around her, smothering her in it’s grey, silent mass.

And then it was cut by an agonized scream. One filled with pain and blood and terror.

“[Y/n]!”

Natasha took off again, narrowing in on the location of the drawn out blood curdling shriek.

It seemed that the sound had been heard by everyone else, as they all screamed into the comms, asking what was happening.

“I have motion sensors going crazy and a single heat signature in the middle, Natasha, be careful.”

Natasha nodded, even though Steve couldn’t see her.

Her run slowed to a jog as she neared the screams, as they slowly died into a strangled, whispered shriek of pain.

“[Y/n]?” Your name a whisper on her lips. Natasha kept her gun out in front, ready to fire at anything.

And then her foot hit something solid.

Glancing down, Natasha could barely make out the shape of a leg against her toes.

Trying to keep her cool, but not being able to control the shake of her limbs, Natasha squatted down to get a better look.

“[Y/n]?”

Another whisper. This time pleading.

Natasha let the gun lower to her side as she stretched out a hand into the Mist to where the head of the body should be.

Natasha let out a dry, ragged sob as she pulled your body up against hers. You were okay. Unconscious, but okay.

Faster than anyone could spot, Natasha whirled and fired off two shots into the Mist. Black sludge hit her cheeks but she didn’t flinch.

A horrifying Squeal echoed and then a single tentacle, pink, bulging, with Black sludge coming out of a single gunshot, slapped the ground next to where Natasha sat with you in her lap. The rest of the creature hidden in the depths, the thickness, of the Mist.

Natasha returned her attention to you. You couldn’t get rid of the monsters if you weren’t conscious.

Gently, she shook you, “[Y/n]. Wake up. It’s me. Natasha. Please baby.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she looked down at your still form, your breaths steady and deep.

And then your eyes slammed open and you jerked out of her grasp, “Run!”

Natasha struggled to keep you in her sight, as you tried to disappear into the midst of the Grey Matter.

“[Y/n]! It’s me! You’re okay!”

Slowly, blinking, your gaze settled on her face. Raising a hand, you caressed her cheek, “Natasha?”

Nat nodded, her lips curving up into a grin. “It’s me. You’re okay. Now. I need you to calm down. The Mist isn’t real..”

But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because you freaked out again, panicking, and with startling speed, you had ripped the gun out of Natasha’s hands.

“No! The Mist comes for everyone! The monsters! They already killed the rest of the team. We’re going to die! And it will be slow and-and,” You choked on a sob, tears streaming steadily down your face as you wiped some of the black sludge off of Natasha’s face, “I can’t-I can’t bear the thought of you in pain. Not you, my Love.”

Natasha captured your hand, desperately, trying to convince you, “You won’t have to. Come on [Y/n]. Remember this morning? You, me and Tony decided to Put Nair in Clint’s shampoo? We made pancakes. You and Vision were relaxing. He showed you a clip of a movie, this isn’t real! I’m real. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m safe.”

Throughout her plea, you shook your head, tears falling at a steady rate, breathing growing ragged.

Eyes widened in terror, you spun and fired off a shot into the Mist, another painful squeal could be heard, like an echo coming from deep inside a cave.

In a contradicting, calm manner, you clicked out the clip and looked at the remaining Bullet.

Sadly, but in a whisper, “Only one bullet left. I can’t. I can’t have you suffer. I’d rather it was me. I’m the monster. With the rest of the team already gone. I deserve to die in pain for what I’ve done. But you,” Looking up at Natasha’s wide viridian eyes, you tried to smile, but were aware it came out as more of a grimace, “You are so good. Trying to get rid of the red in your ledger, even though you have ten times over. You are so good. You loved me, you cared for me, even when I thought I was good for nothing except a prison cell in government confinement. You gave me a life and a family. And I will carry that with me to the…” A watery laugh, “Very soon, I should think, End.”

Natasha frantically shook her head, “No! They aren’t dead! [Y/n]! I can prove it!” Natasha tried to take her comm out of her ear, but her hands were shaking so badly, she dropped it in the Mist. Lost in the grey sludge.

“No.” Hands splayed flat on the ground, disappearing into the Mist, trying to feel anything. Trying to find the Comm that was now gone. Her link to her Team, gone.

You shook your head at your girlfriend’s pleads, “I’m Sorry. But I can’t hurt you anymore. This will be the last time, I promise.” And you raised the gun in your hand to rest it against Natasha’s forehead.

Natasha sobbed, her body sagging as she cradled you against her, you were still straddled in her lap, your bodies combining their warmth. A single speck in the middle of the chaos.

“[Y/n]...I love you so much. I don’t want you to blame yourself. This isn’t real. If you do this...you will hate yourself. The Mist is just a movie. Vision didn’t know not to let you see the scary part. But I’m safe. Tony, Bruce, Wanda, Clint, Vision, Bucky and Steve are all safe. I’m safe. You’re safe. The Mist and the Monster’s aren't real! It’s a movie! Come back to me. Please! [Y/n],” Natasha rushed up and captured your lips in hers, the cold steel of the Gun still prominent as it dug into her forehead, aware of your finger, so close to pulling the trigger.

She pulled back, looking deep into your sad, surprised eyes, “I love you. And I promised I would protect you and remind you of reality.”

It was like a light switch was turned on. Suddenly the Mist was gone. The strange tentacle with it’s black blood disappeared. The black Sludge on Natasha’s cheek was gone like it had never been there in the first place.

Natasha heaved a sigh in relief and fell backwards.

You stayed sitting up, still straddling her, the gun still held tight in your grip. But it began to shake violently as the ramifications of what you almost did caught up to you.

“Natasha?” You needed to confirm that she was still alive. You had almost killed your girlfriend. The one person who you loved and who didn’t see you as a monster.

“Natasha?” The body under you was still warm. But you couldn’t stop seeing a bloody mess, a cold corpse, tentacles wrapping around the familiar black leather and strangling her.

“Natasha?” The light leaving those lovely green eyes, those ruby red lips opened in a scream, screaming your name, blaming you for killing her because you couldn’t control your powers.

“Natasha?”

A hand gently cradled yours and slowly, pried your fingers off the gun. Leaving it to clatter against the floor.

A scent of vanilla and cherries, a brush of fingers on your cheek, the pressure of arms wrapping around your waist, the whisper tickles of hair in your face.

“I’m here. You’re here. We’re okay.” And you relaxed into your embrace. Crying without a care. Shamelessly throwing yourself at her further, trying to hide from the world and what you almost did.

“Natasha!? [Y/n]!? Are you guys okay!? The Mist is gone!” Tony’s concerned gruff voice was clear and sent you further into your guilt. Shuddering violently, you kept your face firmly pressed into Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha answered, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “It’s okay. I brought them back to reality. They thought you were all dead, so why don’t you call everyone to the common room so that they can see that they are all alive. But then I’m going to take them to our room to calm down.”

You were vaguely aware of being moved, but you kept your legs wrapped around Natasha’s waist, arms secured around her neck and your face buried into the crook of it, breathing in her scent, centering yourself to the real reality.

You had almost killed her. You had almost put a bullet through the skull of your girlfriend. And claimed it had been to save her from monsters that weren’t even real!

“[Y/n]. Babe. Look up please. See,” You raised your head, tears no longer coming from your eyes, but your face covered in the aftermath of water and salt, to see your team standing around you in concern. No blame or shame from any of them. Which furthered your own guilt. They shouldn’t be used to this. They should be blaming you, be scared of you. It was what you deserved for putting them through so much pain and horror and terror.

Natasha continued on, aware of your inner fight, but leaving it to confront when you were both alone, “Everyone is alive and safe. They are okay.”

You nodded along. Knowing that’s what they wanted. A sign that you were aware and in the present.

Your body was tired and felt like a bag of rocks, your eyes heavy from the torrent of tears and the adrenaline that had raged through your body.

The next time you looked, you were sitting on your bed. Alone.

Cracking your neck, you stared down at your hands, flipping them back and forth. They were hands that held a gun to the head of your lover. They were the hands that were attached to the person who couldn’t differentiate reality from fiction.

“Why am I even still alive?” Your whispered question wasn’t meant for anyone to hear.

But you got a response anyways.

“Because I love you. You matter. And you’re a hero.”

The bed dipped as Natasha crawled onto it and pulled you into her arms.

You snuggled into her body, into her warmth. Hiding your head against her chest. Your legs becoming tangled together.

“How can I be a hero when I can’t even control my powers and my mind thinks Monsters are real and can bring them to life? How can I be a hero when I was so ready to kill you!?”

And that was the crux of this episode. In all the weeks and months of living with the Avengers since they had found you, you had never once hurt or injured a teammate, and you had never been ready to kill Natasha. You had never once held a gun to her head. You had never once claimed you had to kill someone to save them.

Natasha rubbed soothing hands up and down your back, Her breath a warm rush of air tickling the top of your head, “It’s okay. I’m safe. You’ll get better at Control. Remember what I said?”

She pulled you back and stared deep into your eyes, her lips a soft smile, “I will always be here to help you know what is reality and what isn’t. I will never leave you.”

You shook your head, not believing her yet, “How can you still love me after I almost shot you in the head!?”

Natasha kept the smile on her face, her hands tracing from your back, to your arms, sliding up to cup your cheeks, “We’re Avengers, we face terrible things everyday. But I can always count on one thing, you know what that is?” She didn’t give you time to respond, closing the distance so that her nose rested against yours, her eyes impossibly close, her breath fanning against your lips, “I can always Count on your love. You. Your determination. Your drive to be better. Your laugh. Your infectious joys. Your ability to remain positive. Your jokes with Clint. Your brain as you solve complex problems with Tony and Bruce. Your solemn silence and empathy with Steve and Bucky. Your love of Vines and Memes when talking with Vision and Wanda. You. You are the heart and soul of this team. And you have my heart and Soul as well.”

Tears came again. This time filled with happiness and love.

Closing the last few inches, you captured Natasha’s lips in yours. Teeth catching her bottom lip and eliciting a gasp from her.

Slowly pulling away, her lips trying to follow yours. You reached up and tangled your fingers with hers, holding her hand against your chest as you grinned, “I love you so Much Natasha. Thank you for always Saving me.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict

Natasha Taglist:

@ludwigvonbaethoven @hanjiscience-slut @kitten-q-p @morbid-gaymer @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare @sunnyandtwisty @zoeyknight @kurlyafro @thewomanofwonder @5aftermidnight @myfemininelesboworld @rizamendoza808

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc @marvel-is-a-mood

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ghostwise · 5 years

Text

ch 1 :: the tonitrus

It was not immediately clear what had occurred, but Solimar relied on a keen intuitive sense which told them that the ships crowding around the mass relay were all wasting their time, and that in all the confusion following the inexplicable destruction of the reaper forces, there was a hidden possibility for reward; it was only a matter of where, and how.

Astrophel was less optimistic.

“I hate this. We still don’t know what’s going on,” he said, glaring at the control screens of the shuttle as he maneuvered them over city ruins. “We should just leave while we can, before something else goes horribly wrong…”

“You worry too much,” Solimar said with a grin. “Trust me. I got a feeling that relay isn’t going to budge anytime soon. And what’s the first thing everyone will want when they realize it?”

“Um…”

“Supplies!” Solimar tapped the viewscreen, making Astrophel jump. “These warehouses used to be full of rations… we might find something interesting while everyone’s distracted, yeah?”

“But… why did the reapers just keel over out of nowhere?” His mandibles flared, he shook his head. “No. Something’s wrong. It could be a trap. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I don’t know why the reapers do what they do, Astrophel. But shit’s already hit the fan. There’s no cleaning it up, so let’s just do what we do best and try and salvage what we can.”

And though Astrophel could think of ten more reasons why Solimar was wrong, he couldn’t bring any of them out of his worried mind. So, he flew the shuttle, in uneasy silence.

The red sun was setting over Benning when Astrophel set them down on an old abandoned courtyard. The city had long been evacuated, leaving them alone in the rubble.

“Stay put!” Solimar grunted, tapping a few commands into their omnitool and opening the hatch as they landed. “Should be easy for a coward like you, anyway!” In a burst of blue biotics they sped off.

Astrophel’s mandibles flared in irritation. He soon followed at a run.

In any war the front lines were never clearly delineated; they wavered, changeable as air currents, and a city street could just as easily be a battlefield the next day. However, there was a predictable standard of deviation to war, and Sol knew it well.

Things were kept mobile. Portable servers, comm devices, makeshift hospitals that could be packed up in minutes. As a professional profiteer, Sol didn’t know what to search for, but they’d know it when they saw it.

Flitting across the landscape they scanned their surroundings, while Astrophel puffed along behind, out of breath simply due to his nonstop bitching.

When the turian finally caught up he opted simply for shooting a steely glare at his companion. Solimar grinned at him.

“Good, you came after all! Did you notice comms are down?”

Astrophel’s expression softened to one of confusion. “How can that be?” he asked, opening his omniscreen. “Even through the worst, Palaven was still getting comms through. Benning wasn’t hit that badly was it?”

“Dunno. But whatever’s going on, it won’t be long before someone comes along to secure everything. In the meantime…” They nodded at the scraps of metal they’d found.

“A drone?” Astrophel’s eyes lit up, despite his unease.

Solimar nodded. “Here, reroute some of your omnitool’s power and help me get it back.”

“No.”

“Astrophel, c’mon!” Solimar threw their hands up, exasperated. “We don’t know how much time we have! This is important!”

The turian glanced back, raising an eyebrow plate. “What exactly are you hoping to gain?”

“Information,” The asari tapped gently on the drone’s shell. “It’s going to make all the difference in the next few months. Don’t think of it as stealing, think of it as… recovery!”

“I wasn’t-” Astrophel wheezed a little, an odd sound, coming from a turian. “I wasn’t thinking of it as stealing. Soli, are we stealing?”

“Of course not!” Solimar said all too quickly. “I wouldn’t—psh! No!”

“But-”

“Recovery, Astrophel. Recovery.” Solimar smiled at him. “Then we can get back to the shuttle, alright? What do you say?”

Astrophel regarded them for a moment, then sighed.

And so the two turned their attention to the dented little scrap of a drone, salvaging what they could.

“Well, shit.”

Astrophel looked up at the words, watching as Sol scanned the drone’s contents. They had both downloaded the information to their omnitools, and now perused the files individually.

“I was hoping for something like supply routes or Alliance secrets. This just looks like some kind of… computer program.” Closing out of the files, they sat back on their heels and sighed. “Waste of time.”

“Maybe.” Astrophel’s eyes scanned the lines of code thoughtfully. The work had calmed him down considerably; moved him from fretting about the possibilities, to wondering about them. “Maybe. Maybe not…”

Solimar rose to their feet, glancing upwards at the sound of ships passing by. “We won’t be alone much longer,” they said. “Cerberus and the Alliance have been scrambling over these ruins for months. With the reapers down something’s bound to give, and I don’t wanna be around when it does. I’m doing one more run before heading back. You coming?”

“In a bit,” Astrophel hummed. “Gonna spend a bit more time on this one,” he added, subharmonics already taking on a dreamy tone, the kind which indicated that he’d fully absorbed himself in his work, and would not be moved until he finished.

Solimar rolled their eyes. “Sure, now you want to focus on the drone,” they muttered. “Suit yourself. Comm me when you’re finished.”

It figured that Astrophel only cared about something when it proved to be incomprehensibly dull and pointless. Still, Sol wasn’t complaining. They moved faster alone anyway.

Already, the asari had returned to the shuttle twice, each time carrying a load of supplies. They searched for more drones, or perhaps a data terminal, but found none. Food, however, had been easy to locate.

The cities of Benning had boasted automated agricultural centers since their founding, but the war had decimated the population. Following that, evacuations and Cerberus raids took care of the rest. What this would mean after the war remained to be seen; there’d never been a war quite like this, after all, and the planet’s fate seemed precarious.

The crumbling granaries made an enticing and easy target for Solimar. It was a shame that they wouldn’t be able to share with Astrophel. This had been a human colony, after all. No turian food.

“All for Solimar, none for Astrophel,” they hummed cheerfully as they worked.

An unfamiliar stillness had descended on the planet, punctuated by the sound of distant ships passing by. Setting down the knapsack they’d been carrying, Solimar opened up their omnitool once more, only to realize, with a jolt of uneasiness, that it was still offline.

It was literally unheard of. In all their years, the extranet had been a steady and reliable presence. Outages, though rare, usually lasted mere minutes. Not hours. Not this.

Had local communications been altered? Following that hunch, Solimar made an adjustment to their omnitool, in order to pick up internet as well as low frequency radio waves. The screen immediately lit up with transmissions from the planet’s surface.

“There we go…” they whispered, tapping at volume controls and listening. “Sounds like a party.”

News reports from local agencies, maps, and most importantly, radio messages: a look into what was currently going on in the area. Solimar grinned, suddenly feeling less alone. These transmissions were coming from someone. Most of them were encrypted, but an exchange of information was happening in real time. Decoding the transmissions seemed worthwhile.

As they worked, events were being set into motion that would impact all their lives for years to come.

The effort to rebuild was already underway, and while many knew of the Crucible, of the thousands of hours of labor that went into winning the war, and of the implications in the destruction of every mass relay in the galaxy, most people on the ground still weren’t sure if the war had been won at all.

This information would ultimately impact who lived and who died.

As the first transmissions began to clear up, Solimar leaned in and listened closely to the choppy voices coming through the comm.

“… Hostile vessels incoming … … all stations, impose radio silence …”

A military transmission, by the sounds of it. Solimar raised a brow, sensing, once more, that intuition that had guided them onto the planet’s surface. Only now it was telling them to go.

And they would have gone, immediately, had it not been for the transmission that followed.

“Mayday! … coordinates as follows … … medical officer of the Tonitrus requesti…”

“… impose radio silence …”

“Mayday…”

“… hostile vessels incoming …”

“Requesting immediate assistance… please!”

“This automated message will repeat.”

With his companion gone, Astrophel was content to sink into the lines of code for a while, pondering over their meaning. Something in them felt vital, like there was a revelation waiting to be stumbled on… but then again, they were in a war zone, and maybe he was just paranoid.

Glancing up nervously, he looked to the horizon where a reaper had fallen. He felt fairly confident that this particular one was no longer a threat, but then again, there had been a hell of a lot of reapers. After nearly a year living in constant fear, he was not prepared to drop his defenses after a few hours of quiet. Unlike Solimar, who seemed to just shrug and carry on regardless.

More ships passed overhead, adding to a din that was getting closer, not farther. What was that Solimar had said? That they wouldn’t be alone for long? Perhaps they should head back to the shuttle after all.

It clicked then, suddenly. The idea that had been percolating the entire time he’d been working on the code.

Astrophel scanned the information a few more times and yanked himself to his feet, stunned by his realization. It was a hell of a lot of data. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed it sooner.

“It’s for a ship… a ship’s navigating program,” he said out loud.

This could prove to be useful after all.

Evenings on Benning were odorous, not poetic. Agricultural waste and warfare made for pretty sunsets, though, and Solimar wished they had time to appreciate the view.

Sprinting in a streak of glowing blue across the ruins, they caught up with Astrophel right where they’d left him, still analyzing data and mining information from his screen like a mad scientist.

“Cut the nerd shit for a moment and listen to this!” Solimar said. Ignoring Astrophel’s protests, they played the transmissions they’d recovered.

‘Attention. Hostile vessels incoming. All stations impose radio silence until further notice. Instructions from Alliance Command will be forthcoming. This automated message will repeat.’

“Radio silence…” Astrophel repeated carefully, listening. “These are all on local frequencies? Is there anything from outside the system?”

“No. Everything’s local, and hella encrypted,” Solimar said simply. “Comm buoys must’ve taken a beating during the last attack because there are no off-planet communications coming through at all. We’re cut off.”

Astrophel suppressed a shiver at the thought.

“Go back to that first transmission,” he said after a moment.

“The mayday? What for? There’s nothing we can do without the coordinates.”

“But you have it saved, right? You don’t have the right encryption key, but I could probably get the coordinates if you pass me the file.”

“Come again?” Solimar scoffed.

“The Tonitrus is a Turian frigate. It should be the same codes the Havincaw, which I served on.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, simply yanking Solimar closer so as to patch into their omnitool. Solimar meanwhile had taken on a rather deflated look, sinking to a crouch as Astrophel worked.

“Huh? Sorry? What’s happening?” they asked. “Since when do you know anything about military encryption keys? You can’t say shit like that and just-”

“Got it!”

Astrophel clapped his claws together, letting out a celebratory shout. “I have the transmission, the coordinates, and best of all...” At this point his grin turned towards positively revolting, all needled teeth and gaping jaws. Solimar winced a little.

“... Best of all, I have the ship’s missing navigation program. Let’s go! We have to hurry!”

Turians shouldn’t grin, Solimar mused as they followed them back to the shuttle, still baffled. Looks like a thresher maw with a Glasgow smile…

But they ran after him all the same. A profiteer and a war deserter, racing against nightfall, and whatever followed.

#rinnywrites #mass effect #this is super old but it was the first chapter of an episodic series based on a crew of misfits following the reaper war #found families... healing from trauma... gay aliens... all that jazz #not sure if i'll ever write more but i love these characters a lot #oc: astrophel #oc: solimar

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endthisfool · 5 years

Text

Dirge Eater

Summary: Getting his claws on one of Brainstorm's untested inventions leads to Whirl being flung into an universe that isn't quite ready for someone like him. Back in Jasper, Nevada Team Prime is faced with the task of reeling in the wayward whirlybird, but it won't be pleasant ride for anyone.

Chapter 1: Death Bringer

An iridescent tear eats at a storm ridden sky, bleeding the taste of a distant universe like an infection. Out it spits a being of that unknown, chaotic and ruthless. He doesn’t belong here. As if knowing that, the sky seems to rumble its distaste of the rapidly descending figure. Far below, a young boy by the name of Rafael Esquivel sits idly on the front steps of his school building. He’s content to wait outside for his friends, despite the swirling clouds above. However, a storm isn’t the only thing brewing over head, and it certainly isn’t the most worrisome. An odd sound reaches Raf’s ears. He looks about himself, furrowing his brows at the relatively empty area. It’s not empty for long. There’s a wicked crack of concrete as something huge lands in an impact that lances through the ground, sending debris and dust flying outward from its epicenter. Cars wail their distress, joined by a smattering of shocked shouts. Raf’s up on his feet and down the rest of the steps before he can even process what he’s running toward. Due to his short stride, by the time he gets there there’s already a growing crowd of students, teachers, and passerby’s alike. They peter about uncertainly, low mummers of confusion drifting between them. Raf finds himself having to push past a woman taking pictures to get a closer look. The crater cuts a deep hole into the concrete, thin trails of black smoke whisking up from the crumpled heap of metal within. A sluggish flow of fluorescent pink liquid seeps from the mass. The scent of ozone lies thick in the air. His knees feel weak, a thrill races up his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. The gangly mess of strange parts and twisted blue metal, rises up from its grave with a horrific spat of clattering. In turn the previously gawking crowd scatters haphazardly, screaming all the while. The source of their fear moves like an old windup toy missing a few gears. Jittering and loud. No longer an unidentifiable pile of scrap, the thing reveals itself to be some sort of mech. All thin plating and abnormal-near insect like limbs- it appears nothing like the Cybertronian’s on Earth. ‘Nothing like the autobots at least, this has to be a decepticon.’ Worse, it had no face, just a telescopic-esq head and a single burning gold optic. It brings up an eerie recollection of the xenomorphs from Alien. Certainly not a pleasant comparison. The creature gives a small shake, then a full body shudder, its dented blue plating flaring wildly. It topples over. Its huge pair of pincers dig rivets into the concrete, and the air fills with that terrifying clattering once more. There comes the realization that it’s cackling. Rafael backpedals, which is apparently the wrong thing to do because suddenly that big yellow optic is trained directly on him. He freezes, blood running cold in face of that spotlight-like gaze. His throat constricts, gulping audibly around the fear lodged there. Automatically the boy raises his hands-empty palms outward hovering over his chest-in a placating gesture. The mech lurches forward, pistons screeching, and brings up one claw to point straight between his eyes. “ Ha! You look like Rung’s holomatter avatar had a baby with a gremlin.” Its optic contorts into a squint from what can only be unaltered glee, at the bewildered expression on the boy’s face. “Don’t take it personally, lotta you organics have that-“ There’s a vague gesture that spans the entirety of Raf’s person. “-nasty little flesh-bag look going on.” Raf’s mouth opens and closes, but he can’t seem to find any words. His awareness that he- and the entire human race- was just insulted only dimly registers considering the razor sharp claws only inches from his face. “No argument there, huh?” Those claws open and snap shut, clacking together, akin to a crab. Upon the resulting flinch from the human, they retreat back to supporting the mech’s frame. It regards him with a slightly more wary glint to its optic. “...Did I break you, Squishy? I told you not to take it personally, jeez.” The mech heaves itself upward once more, balancing precariously on its thin legs. Distantly Raf notes the school doors opening as people rush past him to safety. “ Fun chat , but I’m gonna go.” It scratches idly at the jutting plating serving as its chest, dislodging some dirt there. In the process it uncovers a much too familiar emblem beneath the grime. Rafael blinks rapidly at the sight of it, shock blooming through his fear in some sort of messy tandem, giving way to conflict. “W-wait! You- you’re a,” Suddenly the blue mech crouches low as if readying to spring, giving Raf a clear view of the twin gun barrels under its chest. At that the blurted words die before they can become a coherent sentence. “I’m a what?” It challenges with the hum of its weapons. Danger evident in its tense frame. Raf squeaks, tripping onto his rear in his haste to put space between himself and those barrels. There’s a chuffing sound above, and it seems the mech is now laughing at his misfortune. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, much too relieved to be free of the mech’s ire. However, despite the mood change the bot doesn’t relax from its crouch. The blades above its claws spin lazily, and it shutters its gold optic a few times. The sound of police sirens wail in the distance, apparently someone had half a mind to call the authorities on the giant robot. Not that that would do any good. “This was a real riveting experience, really, good times with my old pal, Squishy-Four-Eyes,” Mock sincerity coats the words in a growing dirge. Its blades- no rotors begin to spin faster. “Sadly, I’ve got more important things to do, which would be literally anything else. So I’m gonna go do those things.” The mech uncoils from its crouch with enough force to launch itself upward into the air. Its frame contorts, folding mid-air to transform into something strikingly similar to an Earth helicopter. There’s a disconcerting whine to its engine, as if it’s protesting its injuries. Then it’s gone. Veering up and away without a speck of hesitation. Raf remains seated on the ground, even as frantic footsteps sound behind him. His friend Jack Darby nearly tumbles to the ground himself when he skids to a halt beside his younger friend. Their mutual friend Miko Nakadai, however, does trip, and plows straight into Jack. They land in a sprawled heap, but Raf pays them no heed. The older boy attempts to draw his attention with a cry of: “What was that!?” Mystified Rafael stares at the rapidly vanishing helicopter in the sky. “I think...it was an autobot.” A hand snatching his glasses off his face knocks him out of his stupor. “Hey-“ “Hello? Are these working, Raf? That dude is flying, only ‘cons fly.” Miko points upward with the stolen glasses a bit more forcefully than needed. Miffed she hadn’t gotten to take a picture of the weird mech. “Autobots: roll out! That’s not rolling, that’s, like, the opposite of rolling. Bam. ‘Con. End of story.” “No I-,” He struggles to reach his glasses from the taller girl, and she relents returning them with a snort. “I saw it, he had an autobot symbol on.” Jack squints at him, sharing an incredulous glance with Miko. “Are you sure, Raf? That guy didn’t really seem like autobot material.” “Yeah, besides the whole flying thing, none of the autobots have big claws like that.” She mimics the mech’s claws snapping with her hands. Raf averts his gaze, gnawing at his lip. He doesn’t point out the fact that he had been mere feet away from the bot, whereas they had only managed to catch a glimpse of him from inside the school. He saw it, bright red on the mech’s cockpit, he’d recognize it anywhere. Nevertheless, he shrugs slightly, shaken up and adverse to continuing an argument with his friends. Miko seems to notice his dejection and gives him a pat on the back that’s only kinda condescending.

------ So maybe ‘borrowing’ a few of Brainstorm’s inventions hadn’t been his best idea. Then again maybe Brainstorm shouldn’t make his experiments look like guns, because of course Whirl would be obligated to shoot them. He couldn’t just, not shoot them. Not shooting guns went against his morals. And well, maybe if he hadn’t been shooting at random in an enclosed area he wouldn’t have accidentally shot himself. But that’s enough maybes for now. Result is he doesn’t know where he is, and he managed to get smashed up while landing. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Though usually he’d be getting yelled at by now. Strangely enough his comm hasn’t said a peep since he woke up. In a crater. Surrounded by squealing organics. That was pretty weird. Whirl’s HUD blinks red, damage reports rolling across his vision groggily. Urgent: primary energon line severed. Stabilizing gyros functioning at 65%. Spinal strut fractured. GPS System Offline. Energon levels lo- He dismisses the alerts easily, they were no use to him, the level of first aid he was capable of performing with his claws was quite limited. His auto-repair would have to pick up the slack. Even so, leaking to death on a foreign planet wasn’t really the blaze of glory type ending he was looking for. So he needs to clamp off that energon line before he offlines. Simple enough for a pair of pincers. The landscape beneath him blends into an endless stream of indistinguishable shapes and colors. At this point he was fairly far from that organic settlement. The scenery below was now writhe with greenery. Proximity sensors ping a sudden alert. Whirl banks to the left, something bright whizzing past him into the clouds. He slows his flight, enough to detect the frames on the ground aiming at him. Outnumbered, he halts, hovering in place. They’re all dark colored mechs, near identical beyond a few variations. Behind them, similar looking mechs mill about the wide entrance of a mine. When they notice him they take hold of their carts, and retreat into the mine. A few return, training their weapons on him as well. Staring him down uncertainly one guard begins to shout. “Land a-and don’t move! Servos in the air!” The mech’s voice trembles slightly. He doesn’t give much thought to it. They shot first. Allowing his rotors to still in place, he drops out of the air like a dead seeker. Yelps of surprise and several attempts to shoot him follow. A blast glances off his chassis, but if the goal was to slow him down it does nothing. Whirl crashes down onto the mech that had spoken, transforming into his root mode during the impact. His frame is lightweight, but his momentum is more than enough to crumple the mech into the ground. The ‘copter’s HUD informs him of the consequences of using himself as a battering ram. As if the singeing pain didn’t make it obvious enough. He revels in it, all of it. The ruined frame under him shudders and sparks. Dark plating leaks blue over his claws in spurts while he works his grip onto weak neck cabling. The mech sputters feebly. A grotesque gurgling comes from his opponent, spinal strut following his helm free from his frame. Whirl straightens, towering over the graying mech. He holds the mech’s decapitated helm aloft between his claws, gleefully observing the fear take hold in the surrounding mechs. “I did what he asked, didn’t I?” He nails the nearest guard with the offlined mech’s helm, and they go down like a brick. Claws back in the air he gives them a wiggle to emphasize their position. “See? I can follow orders.” They don’t respond. Verbally at least, the sound of their blasters charging up is enough of an answer in itself. Whirl concedes, “OK, so three out of two isn’t bad, I mean, I had to move to get my servos in the air didn’t I?” They let their blasters do the talking once again, opening fire upon the autobot. He lets his own weapons join the conversation. Whirl heaves his offline opponent up to shield his taller frame, twin guns mowing down a row of mechs in front of him. They fall one after another, as if they weren’t built to last in a fight. ‘Kinda pathetic.’ Blaster fire licking at his chassis draws his attention to an unfortunate mech who tries to backpedal. The ‘copter forgoes his guns, bodily throwing himself at the shorter mech. He butts his helm against the other’s visor, shattering it, and carelessly damaging his own optic in the process. It doesn’t affect his pace. He latches on the dazed mech’s shoulders, and gives them a sharp tug. The intention was to tear his arms off, however his opponent ends up completely bisected lengthways. Whirl’s golden optic shutters in a surprised blink. Blue liquid soaks his cockpit, dribbling into his seams, mixing with the pink energon he leaked. The pincers holding the two halves of the other mech clench involuntarily. Something about this wasn’t quite right. His momentary pause gives the other mechs an opportunity to attack. Something in his leg gives way, the damaged armor there failing to protect it. The autobot turns on his attackers, confusion forgotten. “Is everyone on this dust bowl planet huge afts? Quit shooting me while I’m trying to think!”

------------- “ Prime! ” Disgruntled would perhaps be too weak a word to describe Agent Fowler’s demeanor right now. He’s furious, pacing up and down the walk way, his hands balled into fists. The addressed autobot regards him calmly, a slight frown on his handsome faceplate. His medic at the base’s computer terminal quirks an eyebrow ridge at the infuriated human. Leading Optimus to silently will the other to not say anything that would fuel the Agent’s bad mood. Thankfully Ratchet just snorts, resuming his work. Relieved the taller ‘bot patiently waits for the man to voice his complaints. It takes several more moments of huffing and puffing. Then Fowler finally halts his pacing, coming to stand in front of Optimus, his hands gripping at the railing. His glare is met with the autobot leader’s slightly confused, perhaps even concerned optics. For whatever reason this deepens the human’s scowl. “You wanna tell me what one of your guys was doing prancing around a school in broad daylight!?” That garners Ratchet’s attention, and this time the medic turns from his terminal fully, crossing his arms over his chassis. Optimus sighs quietly through his vents. “Agent Fowler, I understand you are displeased with our presence here on Earth, however you have met all the autobot’s stationed on this planet.” Fowler glares harder, Prime presses on before the human could interrupt. “No one was patrolling in town today, in fact Bumblebee, Arcee, and Bulkhead have only left recently to pick up their charges.” “Oh yeah? Then how do you explain the huge robotic blue bozo my men have been working to scrub off the World Wide Web?” He jabs a finger at Optimus’ frowning faceplate. “Do you know how many phones we’ve had to confiscate? This is a huge mess, Prime! And I’m holding you accountable.” Optimus opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of his comm crackling to life in his audial has him ignoring Fowler. The man sputters indignantly when the autobot holds up a servo to silence him. Over the comm Bee’s clicks and whirls sound off an excited babble. :: Raf says he met a new autobot at his school! :: Arcee’s voice joins the call, :: Jack and Miko both say he didn’t.:: Optimus considers the conflicting information, and gives the order to his soldiers to return to base with their charges promptly. Fowler stares at him expectantly. “It would appear that the children have some information on our unknown mech.” “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? There’s a dangerous mech out there who clearly didn’t get the robots in disguise memo!” Fowler bashes a fist against the railing, rattling it. “You can’t just let this guy go wandering through towns willy-nilly!” “Agent Fowler, I assure you once we take stock of the situation we won’t allow this mech to continue roaming in this manner.” Whether or not this mech was an autobot or not would really be the deciding factor in that. Neither a Decepticon or a Neutral would be all too willing to take orders from him. “Until then we will provide assistance in covering up this incident.” Fowler seethes. The screech of tires alerts the base’s occupants of the arrival of the remaining autobots. The young scout tears into the room, flashing his headlights. His charge can be heard laughing through the open windows. Arcee rolls up next, Bulkhead close behind. “Optimus!” Rafael peeks out Bee’s window, a faltering smile on his face. He glances toward his friends who’ve already crossed the base floor toward the couch. “I uh-“ Bumblebee beeps encouragingly at his nervous charge, the boy responds with another weak smile, and exits the scout. Rafael describes what he encountered at his school. The injured blue mech he found in the crater. His crass personality, and strange appearance. The autobots tense when the boy mentions the mech’s lack of servos, lack of a face . The tank churning signs of an empurata victim. “...then I think he called me ugly, or really just organics in general-“ Ratchet snorts. “-he got up to leave, and that’s when I saw the autobot symbol on his chest.” “Then he flew away!” Miko pipes up from the couch, Jack bobbing his head in a nod. Optimus doesn’t acknowledge the interruption, opting to lower himself closer to eye-level with Rafael. “Can you describe his alt mode for us?” Raf relaxes, clearly having been expecting some sort of dismissal. “It looked like some sort of helicopter...with a pair of big guns under its cockpit.” “I see,” There’s an uncomfortable niggling at the back of his processor. He raises to optics to address his team. “Do any of you recognize a mech of that description?” They each shake their helms, Raf’s expression falls, dismayed. Miko rolls her eyes. “Told you it wasn’t an autobot, autobots don’t fly.” Ratchet spares her a look, “There are fliers in the autobots, the aerialbots for one, it’s just not common.” Rafael perks up, nearing the medic. “You think this mech could be one of the aerialbots?” His big hopeful eyes has the gruff medic averting his gaze with a shrug. “If he is, I’ve never heard of him.”

---------

A few more dents mar his frame, and a few more errors crowd his HUD. At some point his rotors began smoking, but they’d stop soon enough. Sticky blue energon covers his plating like a second coat of paint. Limping into another chamber of the mine Whirl subspaces another cube of that weird blue energon. Not what he was looking for. A quiet clank of metal far too soft to be his own, has him squinting in an imitation of a smile. “Peek-a-boo!” Pincers snap shut over his advisory’s leg, wrenching the mech from its hiding place, and onto the floor. It immediately begins begging, which was funny the first dozen times, but now Whirl’s over it. “Please, don’t kill me! I jus-just work the mines! I don’t-I dont-“ “I don’t care.” To emphasize his point the ‘copter lashes out with his claws, impaling the mech through its neck, and successfully destroying its vocoder. The mech writhes, grasping at the claw pinning it to the ground. “Ya know, I didn’t even realize you guys were ‘cons until I had already deactivated most of you.” That single golden optic burns uncaring holes into the helpless mech at his pedes. It’s void of any sort of empathy, just watching the other with the same level of detachment as a human regarding an ant. “I think Eyebrows would say that’s concerning .” A sharp kick drives his pede into the miner’s abdominal plating. The mech curls inward on itself in silent pain. “He’d also ask me how I feel, or some slag like that. What about you, how are you feeling?” Whirl peers down at the miner, standing his other pede on top the other’s helm. He leans his weight into it, humming as the mech’s faceplate began to split. “Speechless huh? That good? You’re a weirdo.” “No judgement here, I’m not gonna tattle to anyone about what gets you revved,” Perhaps he presses too hard, because he finds his pede touching the floor, having gone straight through the mech’s helm. The crushed pieces of the miner’s brain module fizz against his pede forlornly. “Whoops. Guess you’re taking your kinks to the grave.” He yanks both his claws and his pede from the greying frame, losing his balance in the process. Whirl’s back hits the far wall with a painful crack. The blue mech allows himself to slide down to the floor as if strutless. His damage report begins to ping at him again, he dismisses it as usual, retrieving one of the blue energon cubes from his subspace. He eyes it thoughtfully with his single optic, turning it around in the mine’s dim lighting as if the angle would change it somehow. “You think this’ll give me some weird organic disease?” The cooling corpse remains considerably quiet. “Yeah, me too.” Whirl clinks the cube against the miner’s chassis then empties the entire cube into his intake. He doesn’t taste it, he hasn’t been able to taste anything in a long time. Nevertheless, he makes the sound of smacking lips he doesn’t have, along with a hum, as if contemplating the flavor. ‘Grinning’ down at the mech he nudges the cold frame with one of his sharp elbows. “Better than the sludge Swerve serves.” He laughs enough for both of them.

#whirl #transformers #maccadam #mtmte #tfp #transformers fanfics #fanfiction #transformers prime #crossover #my fics #Dirge Eater #other chapters are on my a03 #ratchet #optimus #bumblebee #thought i might as well post the first chapter on here while Im working on chapter 4 #long post

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jamesvehrlinger · 5 years

Text

Seraphim Sentinel

Staring forward, I focused on the gentle swaying of the red bulb. I felt my body move in sync with it, both undulating with the ship as it glided through the air. Just as the nausea caught up with me, I lowered my head into my hands and massaged my temples. The pounding in my ears was so loud, I didn’t even hear Abby’s heavy metal footsteps as she bounded towards me. The first indication of her presence was the heavy slap I felt in the square of my back. I looked up to see her big green eyes contrasting against the dim lighting.

“Cheer up, Rookie. Everyone gets butterflies their first time, but once you’re on the ground, there’s nothing else like it. You won’t want to leave.”

I was jealous, she seemed to really love what she did. I guess she had to have, to stay as long as she had. I thanked her, and flashed a semi-enthusiastic smile. Just enough to satisfy her. As she turned and bounded off, her teal armor disappearing down the corridor, I ran my fingers over the letters cut into the forearm of my suit.

“Test Type 01”

As I rounded the zero, the Handler’s voice boomed in my skull.

“Whatever you do, do not break that suit.”

To say I was stressed would be an understatement, but the eminent voice, now no longer in my head, forced me to push that back.

“We’re closing on the city, all Sentinels report to assigned launch chambers for brief and sortie.”

I hoisted myself from the bench, and felt the suit settle on my body. I walked into the chamber, and prepared myself. I recited the directions as I executed them. One hand on each rail, left foot back, lean forward. As I assumed the stance, a panel materialized to my right, and from it, the Handler spoke again.

“Anomalous lift-field distortion was detected above the city at oh-four-hundred this morning. The anomaly continued to intensify over the course of the morning, and at thirteen-hundred, ruptured. Whatever came out knocked out all the electronics in a little over a three mile radius. Evacuation efforts had already ended by that time, so we have no idea what’s down there. I won’t lie, we’re flying blind on this one. Keep your head, stick together, and you’ll come out of this fine. Good luck.”

I watched the channels close one by one, until only the Handler and I remained.

“Remember our talk, Rookie. Stay safe out there.”

She blinked off just as the red countdown over the door appeared. For every second that ticked down, I heard my heartbeat in my ears. Once the countdown hit zero, I didn’t hear much of anything.

As my eyes adjusted to the endless white, Abby’s voice cut directly into my head.

“Remember everyone, once we reach the exclusion zone, we’ll lose all autonomous functions. That means any course corrections better be done soon, and we won’t be able to contact one another until we're on the ground.”

As we broke the cloud layer, her voice began breaking up, and soon became inaudible static. Dismissing the channel, I turned my attention downward toward the rapidly approaching skyline. I was lucky enough to have been on course for a prime landing site- a field of grass in one of the cities parks. Locking the course, I turned my attention to the other Sentinels, and felt my blood run cold. Another Sentinel- I didn’t even know their name, had been aiming for the same site, but they hadn’t been as fortunate as I was. Their path hadn’t been as ideal as mine- drift would cause them to clip the side of a nearby skyscraper on approach. I quickly opened a comm channel, only to have my head assailed by static. Closing the useless channel, I tapped my corrective thrusters to see if I could get in their way, maybe force them off course and away from the edge. After a few pumps yielded nothing, the cold realization washed over me. Course correction had been lost awhile ago. I watched helplessly as the nameless Sentinel drifted right according to the prediction, the edge hitting them in the right shoulder. After impact, they began to spin, flying wildly off course. I would have seen their destination, had it not been for my own rapidly approaching landing. Orienting myself and feeling the armor in my legs lock, I braced for impact.

The crater spread out neatly in about three feet in either direction. The joints in my leg loosened, and I wrested control back from the suit. Immediately, I surveyed the park. I hadn’t seen the other Sentinel’s emergency landing, but the stretch of destroyed foliage yielded a good indication. Approaching the crash site, I saw them. Luckily, they’d managed to stop the spiral, and landed squarely on their back. Just as I reached them, I felt something, something terrible. Short of breath, I stumbled back and fell over, suddenly dizzy and nauseous. As the spell overtook me, an indicator appeared on my display.

“++PSYCHOLOGICAL CONTAMINATION DETECTED++”

“++DEPLOY PSIONIC COUNTERMEASURES, OR EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY++”

Struggling to crawl away from the Sentinel, who I assumed was the source of the contamination, I began to realize it’s presence. First, it was a slithering limb just out of sight- then it was something disappearing underground. As I turned, I saw it’s body snake through the tree branches, and just as quickly disappear into the trunk. As it’s body began to constitute greater and greater quantities of my vision, a word began to form.

“Oona.”

First I heard it, then I saw it on my display. Then, it appeared on a tree. Next, a cloud in the sky. I rolled over, and stared into the ground, only to see it etched in the dirt. As I brought my head into my hands, the familiar forearm inscription was gone, and in its place…

“Oona.”

My display lit up with warnings,

“--DIRE PSYCHOSOMATIC BREACH DETECTED--”

“--ADMINISTERING ANTIPSYOONAOONAOONAOONAOONAOONAOONAOONA--”

I shut my eyes, and smashed my head into the earth until the visor cracked.Tearing away the shards, I was finally free of the display. When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was black. As my eyes adjusted, I began to see it. Far off in the dark, it’s body writhed and coiled around itself like a den of snakes. It spanned so far and so tall that it dominated my vision, wherever I looked I saw it’s mass of limbs and flesh. I stood, and the folds parted, revealing it. It’s three green eyes each studied me independently, it’s long antennae probed my suit and wrapped around my limbs. All of a sudden, it’s ocular trio all met my eyes, and I felt it’s antennae snake around my head. It encased me, and it spoke to me.

“You carry the scent of the Seraphim, and yet, you are of mortal flesh. What etheric trickery is this?”

It questioned me, but unsure of how to respond, unsure if I even could, I only stood motionless.

“What have you done with the Doomslayer?! Answer me, filth!”

After a tense silence, I felt the hostility subside to apathy. The dark receded, and I found myself back on the grass of the park. But, something felt different. My chest felt hot- I drew my hand up to it, and found something large, fleshy, and decidedly inhuman. I opened my eyes, and saw the Oona’s long antennae extend from it’s head into my chest. Staring at the gaping hole it broke into my armor, rather than fear or sorrow, I felt anger. Anger poured out from the wound, throughout my entire body. I grabbed the antennae with two hands, and freed it from its hosts head. The Oona shrieked in pain, and it’s long slithering body retreated into the forest. I stood, and yanked what remained of the antennae from the wound. I watched as the hole where my heart had been filled with something else. As the alien flesh grew into the wound, I felt it grow into every inch of my body. My arms bulged, causing the armor to crack and bow. The flesh wrapped around the exposed plating, and drew it into the amalgam of my body. When the growth finally subsided, I stood up, and all I felt was rage.

Memories past that point are scattered- I remember the Oona’s cry as I robbed it of its life, but there is more than one death rattle that haunts me. My teammates voices, crying out in pain and fear. I felt nothing as I wandered from one to another, overpowering and ending them. I ripped and tore at whatever I could find, until, spent, I collapsed.

When I awoke, it was to a cold hard tile floor. In front of me were my arms, on which sat the familiar inscription, “Test Type 01”. Remembering the events of the previous excursion, I sat up in horror. I stared into the bloodstained rubber that adorned my palms, the plating, rusted red, that still covered my body. I pried at the armor with all my might, but it would not come off. Once, I got close to tearing the plate from my forearm- but the pain became unbearable. It was as if I was tearing off my flesh itself. In defeat, I slumped against the wall. As I hit the ground, a familiar voice came from the room.

“Ah, you are awake. Congratulations on your first successful mission, Rookie. You exceeded expectations- and for that, we’ve decided to overlook your… impulsive behavior towards the end of your battle. That said, you are in need of a new team, given the circumstances. Good news, that test type suit was considered a rousing success by the board, and with the data we gained from your previous episode, we can now implement the technology without the need for bodily shock.”

Confusion overwhelmed me. Had the Handler known I would do these things when she deployed me? Did she consciously send the entire rest of the Sentinels to their deaths?

“...Which leads me to my next piece of good news. We’ve decided your new team will be comprised entirely of Sentinels whose suits are built with the same test type architecture as yours! In fact, we managed to harvest enough from your previous kill to make some real headway on your second team member!”

A panel on the far wall began to reveal itself from the white tile- as the wall receded, the Handler spoke.

“Now, I think a new nickname is in order, what with the promotion and all. Congratulations Rookie, you are now known as… Designation: Doomslayer. Now, to keep you waiting on your teammate any longer would be criminal.”

The panel lit up with a ghastly image of a young girl, her face not unfamiliar. She was suspended in the air, but by nothing physical. The teal armor covered most of her body and limbs, but it seemed to… move. The armor shifted by the second, never maintaining a single definitive form. Abhorred by the sight, I doubled over and vomited. Her eyes were closed, but there was something else. It sat in her forehead, it’s bright green iris and pupil darting around in panic. Occasionally, tears flowed from it as if it were crying. But, above her third eye were objects of true horror. The girl wore a metal headband, not dissimilar to those worn by the other Sentinels, but hers was unique. Affixed to Abigail’s head, facilitated by the headband, were two long red-stained antennae. They randomly struck and convulsed, whipping and stabbing at the tiled walls of her cell. As I gazed upon the unholy chimera, the Handler spoke once again.

“Congratulations Doomslayer, meet your new teammate… Designation: Oona!”

#Fiction #Horror

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sscolariwords · 6 years

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Fire and Metal

Shepard's been spending a lot of time in Mordin's lab as of late. EDI put it to an analytical metric, informing Joker and Garrus that approximately thirty-one percent of her waking activity was spent in there. Considering she's consistently been up for thirty eight hours at a time, interspersed by periods of rest that haven't yet exceeded two hours, it's long periods of time. The doctor had joked that the Commander had obviously taken a sexual interest in him, which he unfortunately could not reciprocate given his disdain for alcohol and mood music. Grunt and Zaeed had found that hilarious, and even Jacob had cracked a rare smile.

Garrus, however, is not so amused, in no small part due to the fact that he knows that Mordin's been continuously operating on her, with Miranda's assistance. He knows this because the latter of the two scientists told him, when questioned. Though, the exact wording she'd used had been “improved upon”.

“I laid the foundational work,” she tells him tiredly in the wake of a particularly long surgical procedure, the third in a week, “But Dr. Solus seems to have grasped the idea behind the Lazarus Project in ways that most of my staff couldn't fathom. Honestly, it's a shame we couldn't have brought him on from the project's inception.”

“Shepard's alive,” the Turian growls in reply, “The project is done with.”

“On the contrary, the project was never finished. Cerberus never meant to just revivify Shepard; we meant to make her invincible. Now if there's nothing else?”

“ 'Nothing else'? There's plenty else! You and Mordin need to stop cutting her up like she's a damn science fair display!”

Despite Garrus standing a foot taller than her, fanged and scarred, Miranda is unfazed by his aggression. It only takes a gentle twitch of her fingers to send him careening out of her quarters, buoyed up by a multitude of mass effect fields. The door locks behind him, before the speakers crackle to life.

“If you have objections, Officer Vakarian,” her filtered voice informs him, “Then you are more than welcome to take them up with the Illusive Man, or better yet: Shepard herself. She's undergoing them all voluntarily.”

To be fair, basic operational implants are standard issue for most military organizations throughout the Milky Way. Garrus himself has a neural mod for AR visuals, tagging enemy combatants or directing him to the next objective. But Shepard? At this point, the Turian suspects she's more metal than meat. Bone reinforcements, a synthetic muscle weave, epidermal medi-gel dispeners, the list of augmentations goes on. She can see in the dark, glow in the dark, the scarring from the Lazarus project shining a luminous orange. On Tuchanka the irradiated atmosphere burns his tongue and throat, Grunt gagging as he sets foot on his homeworld, but Shepard doesn't even sniff, as toxicity filters lining her lungs kick into high gear.

They clash with Eclipse mercenaries on Illium, trying to rescue Miranda's sister. At one point, Mordin and Kasumi are pinned down behind cover. The plan is simple: Garrus and Zaeed will lay down covering fire and Shepard will flank the emplacement. The first part of the plan goes well, and one of the mercs drops when the Commander's shotgun puts a hole through him. The other one is from Palaven, though, and familiar with Turian bait-and-switch ops. He goes for his sidearm and fires off two rounds. The first takes down Shepard's shields, the second one hits her in the cheek and her head snaps back.

There's a long, terrible, strangely quiet moment where Garrus is trying to wrap his head around the fact that it's over, they failed, Shepard is dead again, before she pulls herself upright, eyes burning red, blood waterfalling over bared teeth from the gash in her cheek, and grabs her enemy's hand in her own. There's a sickening crack, and as much as Garrus wants to think that it's the pistol that's falling in twisted pieces to the ground, the other Turian's screams inform him otherwise. He stops when the Commander's fist impacts his helmet, crushing his visor. And his skull. Despite being covered in gore, her wound's stopped bleeding by the time the rest of the squad can meet her, cheeks flush with the effulgence of working medi-gel. A few of them, Garrus included, think they should withdraw, considering Shepard just took a bullet in the head. But Miranda pushes past, uncharacteristic worry coloring her face, and Mordin resolves to check the microfibers once they're back aboard the Normandy.

Joker thinks it's cool. Garrus just thinks of Saren, the plating on his face cracked and threaded with alien lights. Tali is concerned, and with good reason. By the time she joins the mission, glitches have begun to present themselves.

In a firefight with the Blue Suns, one of their Combat Engineers deploys an EMP. EDI falls to silence Garrus's HUD winks out of existence, the comms going with it. But Shepard locks up, drops to the ground, eyes unfocused, jaw slack, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Garrus is the first one to reach her, alarm's sounding in his head as it becomes clear she's not breathing. A moment later his AR feed reboots, and Shepard sucks in a great lungful of air. That one she actually needs a moment to recover from. Only a moment, though, in spite of what Garrus says. She insists she's fine, and offers a hand to get him upright. They are still in combat, after all. The Turian has trouble remembering that; he's still caught on that split second between his HUD restarting and her breathing again, when her biometric feed reported that her heart had stopped.

Later, EDI connects to Sehpard's augmentations' systems to run a diagnostic, reporting the Commander is, from a strictly medical standpoint, fine. The shit-eating grin she gives her long-time Turian comrade is palpable in the air. But then EDI disconnects and Shepard goes fully blind, until they hook the pair of them back up again.

A new surgery is scheduled to correct the problem, Tali to consult on the code language that was used to write the software for Shepard's prostheses, and finally enough is enough.

Not for Garrus, mind you; he's never once been able to convince Shepard of anything, least of all that she's pushing herself too hard. But Thane has a softer touch.

“It's like when your computer has a bug!” she insists, as the Drell bars the way into Mordin's lab, “You don't toss it in the trash, you fix the problem!”

“But that's where you are failing yourself,” he replies, “You aren't fixing the problem, you're postponing it with more and more extensive augmentations. Siha, you must let yourself heal.”

“Thane. There is no time for me to lay around taking antibiotics. I need to be- EDI. EDI, SHUT UP!”

She hears EDI through the comms, even when the AI isn't broadcasting.

“Siha… Shepard,” Thane insists, “You are pushing yourself beyond what your species is capable of.”

“Isn't that the point of scientific discovery?” sniffs Miranda.

“This doesn't concern you!” snaps Garrus.

“And it does you, Vakarian? Limits are excuses that fearful people invent. Shepard is beyond that kind of thinking.”

“This isn't a fitness goal, Lawson,” cuts in Tali, “You're talking about increasingly invasive surgeries to replace failing tissue with synthetic material!”

“Tali,” groans Shepard, “you're supposed to be on my side here.”

“I'm only here to make sure none of the software has a chance of shorting out your brain. I'm not going to pretend this is a good idea.”

“Two weeks ago, I took a bullet to the head and walked away with a scrape! How is that a bad thing?”

“Because it's what the Reapers are doing, Shepard. Remember Saren?”

“I. Am not. Saren. You all need to stop comparing me to that psychopath. I'm trying to save lives!”

“There are worse fates than death, Elaine,” Thane continues, “I worry for you. You don't sleep. You barely eat. Shepard, no matter how hard you push yourself, you are only human-”

“I'M NOT ALLOWED TO BE 'ONLY HUMAN'!”

Is it the increased capacity of her lungs or just her own fervor that allows for such volume. Garrus doesn't know enough about the sciences behind her augmentations to say for certain. But Shepard's roar is enough to shake the bulkhead. Silence falls in the wake of her fury, broken only by her panting.

“Every time I try to put up my feet,” she seethes, “Or catch my breath, there's an alarm that starts blaring, somewhere. The entire galaxy is catching fire, and you all want me to pretend it isn't happening. I don't get to do that! I'm 'Commander Shepard, best hope for the galaxy, lookie here, it's my favorite store on the Citadel, aren't I great?'. I was dead! It was your turn to pick up the slack and look after space, and look how that turned out! The council buried its head in the sand, Anderson spends more time bitching about this shit than actually trying to clean it up, and half the outposts in the Terminus Systems got abducted while you were out pretending to be heroes! Hell, even Cerberus doesn't want to deal with this, otherwise they would have sent an army on this wild goose chase, instead of sinking a fleet's worth of credits into bringing me back! SHUT THE FUCK UP, LAWSON, DO NOT TRY AND ARGUE WITH ME. Every single one of you would be quaking in their boots, holed up on Omega, or Illium, or wherever you please, if I wasn't here. You all had two years to fix this dumpster fire of a galaxy, and you fucked that up. So don't pretend I'm not the only reason anything gets done around here; I am not going to stop, certainly not so all of you can feel better about yourselves.”

Shepard plants a fist in the wall at the height of this tirade, cracking the panel, her knuckles already knitting shut when she pulls away. Her eyes are collapsing stars, too bright to look directly into, and every one of her crew members averts their eyes, anger and shame and hurt so thick in the air that it carries a scent. And for a moment, Shepard softens. The glow in her eyes, her scars, fade and she watches them with remorse. But it's only a moment.

“If there's nothing else,” she growls, “Then get back to your posts. Boots on the ground in four hours.”

“Shepard, this repair is going to take at least six-” Miranda begins.

“Four. Hours.”

The door locks behind them, and Garrus's stomach sinks as imagines Mordin wheeling out a cart laden with scalpels. He looks at Thane, tries for words, but neither of them can manage anything. Instead, he suits up, and goes to wait out the remaining three and a half hours down in the shuttle. He thinks of a lot of things. His father, never once approving of his insistence that rules and regulations were the only thing standing in the way of true justice. His own band of misfits, dead on the ground of their hideout, in lawless Omega. But mostly, he thinks about Shepard. He thinks about watching her become a shooting star, in the atmosphere of a planet he can't remember the name of. He remembers watching her die, and wonders if she really came back.

Then he touches his scars, thinking about Omega again. He thinks about needing to be rescued. He thinks about bleeding out in the second story of a slumhouse, and how it was Shepard, full of fire and metal that came to his rescue. And he wonders.

Oh, how he wonders.

#Mass Effect #Fiction #FanFiction #Garrus Vakarian #Mass Effect 2 #Miranda Lawson #Thane Krios #Commander Shepard

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petitelepus · 7 years

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A Simple Femme In Beast’s Suit, Part 1

Okay, so this work is on my AO3 user PetiteLepus and this work is inspired by Zekkoss. Check them out, they’re awesome. I’ll tag @rocksinmuffin, my Senpai, and everyday inspiration since I want her to name the Reader! But enjoy the story!

It was a regular day in Lost Light, or at least it would have been if it wasn’t for Swerve. The metallurgist had heard a broadcast sent to the whole ship by Rodimus about how they were passing by an artificial planet called Ovika 1.5 and the minibot couldn’t be in a greater rush. So he abandoned setting up his bar for the night and told Ten to carry him with his bigger legs to the observation deck. They came in, doors busting.

”Captain,” Swerve called, but was silenced by the sight of both Rodimus and Megatron staring out in the space until the smaller mech had burst in. He fixed his mistake quickly, ”I- I meant, captains! W- we must visit that planet, it’s my life long dream, besides managing a bar, please let’s go there, even for an hour or half, I’ll give you both free drinks and energy treats for tonight!”

Rodimus’ optics widened and mouth formed to a smile, but before he could agree Megatron stepped in, ”Swerve, that planet is abandoned. There is nothing there. It’s just dust and dirt covered artificial cyber asteroid floating in space.”

”That’s exactly it!” Swerve smiled broadly and jumped down from his bouncer’s arms and made his way to his two captains.

”I’ve read about Ovika 1.5 when I was back on Cybertron studying and I know it’s an artificial cyber planet that had historic and highly rare and these days NON-EXCITANT energon chips planted on it for harvesting high functioning ancient energon, way more powerful than normal energon!” The white and red mech beamed excitedly.

”Wait, hold on, I don’t get this.” Rodimus interrupted before Swerve could start again and glanced him and Megatron in confusion, ”If this Ovika 1.5 is so great, then why it’s abandoned light-years away from Cybertron?”

Swerve was about to explain, with extra details that weren’t asked, but Megatron folded his arms and shot him a look. The metallurgist shut down immediately, even covering a little. The former warlord huffed and turned his grumpy look to Rodimus, ”The Ovika 1.5 was abandoned because it showed no sign of growing energon. Instead, it started to grow organic life forms. At that time it wasn’t wished result for such an expensive experiment so Council decided to launch it off to space and destroy all the data of it to cover up their mistake.”

”But the legend about the rich energon filled planet never died and mechs all around the Cybertron told stories about it and its location! I always wanted to find it and harvest the rich energon to make amazing new drink combinations that not only bring people happiness but nurse them also! They say that ancient energon can cure weak sparks, fuel mechs for a week with one sip, and even prolong life!” Swerve piped excitedly and clapped his hands, ”It’s also highly valuable! Worth millions!”

Rodimus brightened up like a light bulb and turned to mech in charge of controls. ”Park the ship here, we’re taking Rodpod and go take a look at that little planet!”

”Rodimus!” Megatron snarled and turned to his co-captain, ”This is not a good idea and you haven’t even consulted Ultra Magnus about this!”

”Relax, Magnus is having his armor checked by Brainstorm and Perceptor so he won’t a notice a thing if we disappear for an hour or two! We just get a couple mechs with us, get to the Rodpod and take a quick peek! If there is this ancient energon then we grab some and, well, let’s see what we’re doing then. For now, wham-bam in the van, let’s go! Swerve, you’re coming with us.”

”Yes!”

~~~

”This is remarkable!” Brainstorm shouted from the bottom of his chassis as he threw his arms in the air as if he was expecting the planet to embrace him. Mechs exited the Rodpod one by one, but he had to be the first one on the land. Nautica was close behind him and once she was next to her best friend she copied him perfectly, ”This is amazing!”

The artificial cyber planet had grown into a beautiful organic looking planet. The grass was tall like a meadow’s no matter where it grew, flowers as big as minibot’s head and strangely reminding some of them from tentacles as they hang from a bulb looking like an onion…?

The trees looked like Earth’s palm trees, but they were even taller than normal mechs were and leaves were fuchsia-colored and flowers brown like they were almost dead, but still alive. The sky was bright blue, but that had to be the only normal thing on that planet since even the clouds were light green. Heavier clouds were almost poisonous looking.

”Okay everyone, I’m giving you all a job!” Rodimus shouted, getting everyone’s attention.

”Brainstorm will do his science thingies and Nautica accompanies him.”

The nerd duo high fived.

”Rewind takes records from this place and you watch after him Chromedome. I don’t want to put anyone in danger.”

”I’ll guard him with my life.” Chromedome said as he leaned over his smaller lover's shoulder to nuzzle his facial mask against his Conjunx Endura’s own. Rewind returned the sign of affection with as much love, ”Oh Domey…”

Rodimus cleared his intake, averting his gaze from the lovely dovely couple and fixed his optics on Skids and Swerve, ”You two take a look around and see if you can find anything. Remember to report back to me. And for all of you make sure to scout the area carefully! Don’t leave a stone or a twig turned and report everything to me by our comms if you find anything!” Rodimus shouted and made a pose, ”Until all are one, so go wild!”

”YES!” And just like that everyone except, Rewind, Brainstorm and Nautica, transformed and went on their different ways. Rodimus drove to the South, Skids and Swerve drove to West, Chromedome took Rewind on top of him and they drove to North and Brainstorm and Nautica went on their ways to East, each one on their own mission.

~~~ At East ~~~

”Look at this bug Nautica! It’s amazing! Not the biggest I’ve seen, but it’s still pretty amazing!” Brainstorm squealed excitedly as he used his sample taker to poke the beetle that he had kneeled down to inspect. The femme was right beside him, looking curiously the beetle that reached to their knee joints. It made cricking sounds and shook its shell each time Brainstorm poked it.

”I wonder why it’s shell is bright red… and what are those orange spots on it? Wouldn’t it be better for it to camouflage to its surroundings? There must be a reason for its absurd coloring!” The scientist said as he poked the chubby beetle straight between its antennas and suddenly the beetle hissed and-!

”Watch out!” Nautica screamed and quickly yanked Brainstorm out of the way danger’s way. The beetle spat a spray of bright yellow spit at him, but thanks to the mech’s best friend’s fast reflexes, the spit flew past him and hit the ground, and just like that, the beetle bolted and run away to the lush grass. The duo watched after it, then each other and finally the spit on the ground.

”I think it doesn’t need camouflage to hide.” Nautica noted. The spit hissed as it melted a giant hole on the ground and killed all the plants around it. Brainstorm squealed again and quickly got out his vials and took samples, ”Of course! It’s not trying to hide, but warn the predators that it’s dangerous and someone not to mess with! I must document this and run some tests on this acid to find out its composition to create more of it! Then I can mass produce it for my weapons! Imagine the possibilities!”

Nautica chuckled as she watched her friend blabber over how he needed to analyze the acid’s composition to create more of it and talk about all the great weapons he could create with it. While he took samples, she took a look around. The planet was weird but very pretty on its own way. Nautica couldn’t almost believe that it was accidentally created by Cybertronians, but if the massive animals were any indicator about their roots then it matched.

On the corner of her optic, she noticed a big bush shaking couple steps farther from them. She was curious to see what caused the shaking and since Brainstorm was busy, she decided to investigate. Nautica didn’t expect to find what she did.

”Uh, Brainstorm? You might wanna see this.”

”Oooh, what what, what is it? Another critter?” The scientist giggled and ran to his friend. Nautica shook her helm, not averting her eyes from the show bestowed before her. Two rodents that looked like super hairy fluffy puff rats with longs green lizard’s tails were mating like there was no tomorrow. Interesting, but kinda gross also…

”Yew… Neat, but still, yew.”

”I want to take them back to the ship!”

”No you don’t.” Nautica chuckled and walked off to look for something else magnificent. It wasn’t hard. Actually, wherever she looked they saw the planet’s habitats… Being all over each other. Avians with leathery wings, bugs with bright colors, mammals with their weird six eyes.

Noticing that Brainstorm was still watching critters bang, Nautica went to her friend and pulled if away, ”C’mon you, dork, let’s give those animals some privacy!”

”Noooo! I want to take them with me…!”

”You can take that ancient energon once we find it.”

”Even better! Let’s go, let’s go!” The scientist laughed as he bolted straight into the wilderness, trying to find the ancient energon. Nautica chuckled at her friend when she noticed a flock of avians circling the sky not so far away from where Brainstorm had run off to. She followed her friend to the flock of birds and she almost couldn’t believe her optics.

Bones. Giant bones everywhere. Bigger than her and any basic mech. The avian vultures pecked the squeaky clean bones, trying to find something to eat from them, but they had already been cleaned from meat.

The avians must have been hungry since they would only change a skeleton when Brainstorm went to inspect one of them.

”Nautica! This is amazing, these bones are gorgeous!” He squealed like a sparkling and straight out lifted one from the ground, ”So heavy, but almost hollow! This creature had wings to fly with, but the size of a fighter!”

He threw the bone away and went to inspect the skull with enormous sharp fangs. ”These fangs indicate that this creature was a carnivore because it lacks the blunt molars to grind it’s the food like herbivores do to plants. These fangs were purely for ripping meat apart!”

As Brainstorm rambled on, Nautica started counting bones and how many creatures they had in their pedes. According to skulls at least three giant carnivores. She couldn’t help but wonder why these animals had died.

”Hey Brains, you got any idea why these guys died?”

”I thought you would never ask!” Brainstorm giggled and jumped over the skull he was investigating to take a look at its neck.

”Look look! This one’s neck was crushed with such force that it not only snapped the cervical vertebrae but it CRUSHED IT! It’s in pieces! This monster had no chance against its competitor when it had its neck in enemy’s jaws!”

Nautica nodded as her friend made his way to another skeleton, disturbing vultures as he went to its ribs. ”Suspecting by the crushed sternum, this one received a fatal blow to straight into its heart! A real kill shot, am I right!?”

Brainstorm jumped to the third corpse, rolled over a giant skull that was more damaged than other skulls. Not only was it’s front almost black, but there was a huge hole in the middle of the forehead. He pulled servo through the skull’s black part, only to smudge his servo. ”These burnt marks are so deep, that this one had its whole face burnt before something smashed it’s head inside!”

Nautica nodded, eyeing the corpses. ”That sounds interesting Brains.”

”It is, isn’t it!”

”You do know what this means, don’t you Brainstorm?”

”That there is a giant creature here, vicious enough to crush competitor’s neck, strong enough to pierce a chest and able to breathe fire or strong acid through its mouth!”

A silence fell over them as two of them thought what was just said. And just like that, they both quickly opened comm links.

’This is your Captain? Did you find anything?’ Came Rodimus’ voice through the comm.

’Captain, uh, Rodimus? We have a problem!’ Nautica was saying when she was interrupted.

’Yeah, no shit. I found something. Something is seriously-! Hold on, Chromedome is contacting us.’

’This can’t wait-!’

’Rodimus? Is Brainstorm also on this comm?’ Came Chromedome’s voice.

’Nautica is here also!’ Brainstorm cheered.

’Hi Chromedome! We got the news! Bad news!’

’They can’t be as bad as our news!’ Rewind joined the link, ’There are hundreds of capsules here, from Cybertron!’

’Okay, that beats my news.’ Rodimus said, ’Nautica, Brainstorm, Chromedome, and Rewind, let’s all meet back at the Rodpod. I’ll contact Skids and Swerve and tell them to return-! Hold on, they’re just contacting me.’

’We’re in trouble!’ Skids yelled straight into comm link.

~~~ At North, Quarter Earlier ~~~

”Seeing anything Rewind?” Chromedome asked as he kept driving through the tall grass that seemed to go on and on forever. The minibot kept his visor and camera on the horizon, trying to see anything worth filming or noticing. Like a big rock that was coming up.

”Turn left to avoid a rock coming up-! No wait, it’s a sheep. It’s a sheep that looks like a rock. Just drive past it!”

”On it.” Chromedome drove past the sheep, only to hear unholy screeching behind him and Rewind’s hold on his roof tightened. ”Oh frag, it wasn’t a sheep, but a ram and it has big horns and it’s angry!”

The bigger mech laughed, ”How bad can it be, it’s organic. It won’t catch us-!” Chromedome had to swallow his words before they got past his vocalizer as hard and pointy horns rammed against his rear bumper.

”Frag!”

”What did I tell you!” Rewind shouted, but there wasn’t even a hint of malice or sassiness in his voice as it was only laced with laughter, until the ram rammed against his lover again, almost knocking minibot off from him. Without another word, Chromedome sped up until they left the ram eating dust.

”This planet is weird! I love it!” Rewind laughed as he filmed over his shoulder how the ram was left behind. Surely mechs on the ship would love to see them getting chased by a rocky organic.

Chromedome laughed, his engine rumbling with mirth. Then his lover noticed something and patted the vehicle’s hood to get his attention. ”Domey, there is something in the distance.”

”More rams perhaps?”

Rewind focused his optics behind his visor and used his camera to zoom in. He saw many round things in the distance, but he couldn’t tell what they were. ”No, they look like them, but it’s not it. I don’t get any signs of life from there.”

”Should we check it out?”

”It wouldn’t hurt.”

The duo made their way to mysterious objects, only to be shocked out of their minds. Rewind got off from his Conjunx Endura so Chromedome could take his normal mode. The minibot was about to approach the mysterious round objects, when the bigger mech stopped him, pushing him behind himself and approaching objects first.

”What on old Cybertron…?” Chromedome muttered as he touched the weird grass-covered object. When nothing happened, he swiped his servos over the grass, pushing it to the side. He felt his optics widen behind his visor and without his notice Rewind creeping beside him. ”Primus. Domey, do you realize what these are?”

The bigger mech nodded before wiping both his hands over the plants, getting rid of them, and uncovering what they hid there. It was a capsule. Old as time and rusted through every protective layer of metal. Chromedome put some extra pressure on the rusted surface and the rotten metal shattered under his servos like crystal. He couldn’t almost believe what he saw.

A protoform of a cybertronian sparkling, not even fully evolved. It still had its white soft armor, black outlines, and nonexistent head. There were no other details in it that growing sparkling would have. Chromedome extended his hand and carefully felt the protoform. It was stone cold and not emitting any field.

”Rewind… what are these?” The big mech asked without looking away from the cybertronian baby.

”I heard rumors back in old times when the Council decided to get rid of Ovika 1.5 that they used it also as their way of getting rid of failed power spark experiments.” The minibot explained.

”Power spark?”

”They wanted to create an artificial spark that was stronger than normal cybertronian’s spark that could carry much bigger loads than other mechs’ sparks could. Imagine a mech who actually is as big as Ultra Magnus’ armor, but can put on armor much bigger than that.”

”Primus… Those would have changed the whole war.”

”Yeah, but they said that experiments went wrong. Sparklings took deformed forms, grew too small, became predacons, some were weaker than real sparks, and died out before even growing optics. I heard that all the protoforms were destroyed, but I guess that meant that they sent them off into space with Ovika 1.5…”

Chromedome grew silent. He took a look at small protoform, barely grown enough to form a face or alt mode. It had died in a locked capsule with no chances of ever seeing stars or life itself before its life was suffocated. He took a look at hundreds of other capsules and he could already tell that each one had a dead cybertronian sparkling in there.

”That is horrible…”

Rewind nodded, ”I tried to ask about it from Dominus, but he said his lips were shut and denied everything. Of course, I knew he wasn’t able to talk to me about everything but to hold this as a secret…”

The lovers gave a moment of silence to dead cybertronians that didn’t even see light but darkness before they probably starved to death. The moment was finally broken by the big mech. ”We should report to Rodimus and the rest of the crew. They should know about this.”

Rewind nodded and the duo contacted Rodimus through comm link. They connected to comm but were immediately met with Nautica saying something about waiting to the comm link.

’Rodimus? Is Brainstorm also on this comm?’ Chromedome asked about his friend.

’Nautica is here also!’ Brainstorm cheered through comm.

’Hi Chromedome! We got news! Bad news!’ Came Nautica’s voice.

’They can’t be as bad as our news!’ Rewind joined the link, ’There are hundreds of capsules here, full of protoforms from Cybertron!’

’We’re in trouble!’ Skids yelled straight into comm link.

~~~ At South, Ten Minutes Earlier ~~~

Rodimus drove like a madman through the wilderness. For once he was in a planet where there were no speed limits and he wanted to let go a little bit and be wild youngster that he was. There was no Ultra Magnus telling him to slow down or Megatron nagging at him.

The wildlife ran as soon as they heard his motors revving and going off so there wasn’t danger of hitting anyone. He had even left the grassy landscape behind him to avoid rocks or other things that could have been hiding in tall grass.

Rodimus kept driving, occasionally stopping to drift a little and leave his tidemarks on the ground until he saw something rising in the distance. The colorful mech made his way to the object and transformed.

”Wow. Well, you don’t see this every day.” Rodimus whistled. A giant pillar of teal-colored energon grew straight from the ground, growing few heads taller than. It was even so wide that he wouldn’t be able to wrap his arms around it.

”This has to be that ancient energon Swerve was talking about.” The Captain muttered by himself as he eyed the impressive monument. Who would have thought that little chips could grow so tall? Rodimus took a look around the pillar, trying to see if there was a crack or small piece anywhere, and there just happened to be a tiny piece of energon on the ground, just by pillar’s base.

”Hmm, might as well taste this and figure out what so great about this stuff.” Rodimus hummed as he picked up the tiny piece and propped it into his mouth and bit down.

”Ouch! Frag!” The mech cursed and spit the energon out. ”Frag…! That hurt, what I tried to eat? A piece of diamond!?”

Rodimus felt around his mouth, trying to feel if he had cracked a dental plate, but everything seemed to be still intact. He sighed in relief. His perfect smile was still flawless. Then he noticed something. Teal powder at the base of energon pillar.

The Captain wiped his servo over the powder and felt it between his servos. A very fine energon powder. Despite anything he had learned during his life, he licked the powder off from his servo.

Rodimus moaned in delight. That had to be the best energon he had ever tasted in his life! So sweet like energon treat, but not overly sweet and it melted on his glossa like softest oil cake ever. How something that gorgeous tasting could be as hard as a diamond?

The captain looked up, wondering where the powder came from because he wanted to see where the powder came from and he saw four deep grooves just above his head in the pillar. He felt his spark drop. Whatever had left such marks to a energon that hard wasn’t normal.

He had to contact others. Something was seriously wrong on that planet. Rodimus was just about to open his comm link and contact others when he was contacted first. According to incoming information it was from Nautica and Brainstorm.

’This is your Captain? Did you find something?’Rodimus asked.

’Captain, uh, Rodimus? We have a problem!’ Nautica was saying something, but Captain beat her to it.

’Yeah, no shit. I found something. Something is seriously-! Hold on, Chromedome is contacting us.’

’This can’t wait-!’

’Rodimus? Is Brainstorm also on this comm?’Came Chromedome’s voice through comm.

’Nautica is here also!’ Brainstorm cheered.

’Hi Chromedome! We got news! Bad news!’ Nautica said, only to be cut off again.

’They can’t be as bad as our news!’ Rewind joined the link,’There are hundreds of capsules here, from Cybertron!’

’Okay, that beats my news.’Rodimus said,’Nautica, Brainstorm, Chromedome and Rewind, let’s all meet back at the Rodpod. I’ll contact Skids and Swerve and tell them to return-! Hold on, they’re just contacting me.’

’We’re in trouble!’ Skids yelled straight into comm link.

~~~ At West, Five Minutes Earlier ~~~

”Oh my Primus! Skids, look!” Swerve shouted and pointed to the distance. The blue mech turned his attention from two banging giant crickets to look at what his friend was pointing at and he almost couldn’t believe what he saw.

Energon. Pure, brightly glowing energon crystal pillars that were almost as big as Skids raising from the ground in bundles. They were gorgeous, glowing with soothing strong teal color as no other energon glowed. Skids turned to Swerve whose blue visor practically shined in excitement. ”Skids, we found the ancient energon!”

”We sure did.” Skids chuckled as his friend yanked his hand, trying to get more speed to him so they could inspect the mysterious pillars. After the third tug he walked to energon with his friend. As soon as they were next to pillars Swerve let go of him and touched the energon.

”Primus, it’s smooth! I’ve never seen pure energon this smooth! Usually, they’re like unpolished rocks, diamonds, or gemstones. Ragged and sharp! This is almost like it was made to look this perfect!” Swerve babbled excitedly as he felt around the energon pillar like it was a beautiful mech before him.

The metallurgist actually tried to crack the energon with his fist, only for it to bounce back to him. ”Man, this is hard! I think we might need a laser drill or something to get even a piece of this back to ship with us! C’mon, help me with this, find a rock or something!”

”Whatever you need buddy.” Skids shook his head, but turned and started to look around for a rock. Meanwhile, Swerve kept inspecting the pillars, going multiple times around them, taking in every detail he could get.

”Did you find anything?” The red and white mech asked without looking at his friend.

”No, not yet.”

”Keep looking, there must be something that can crack this beauty up! There are already some marks on it!”

”Marks? What kind?”

”I don’t know, I’m not a wilderness professional, I’m a metallurgist, and I know by this hard energon that there is something even harder than that that left these marks here.” Swerve said excitedly, before he ran to his friend’s side, ”Imagine everything we can make with this much ancient energon! We could maybe even grow it on Lost Light, and imagine all the drinks I can make with it!”

”Okay okay!” Skids laughed and snatched a nice sized rock from the ground and turned to face Swerve. ”I think we should try with this rock…” Skids grew silent in a way of danger. A large shadow rose over two mechs as a monster, bigger than Skids had ever seen climbed on top of energon pillars.

The monster was huge, sharp jagged scales black as endless space adorning its body and long tail whipping behind it, enormous wings folded over it’s back and bright crimson lights glowing from scales’ seams over its chest and legs. Big and sharp horns grew from beast’s head, the couple from jaws and it didn’t even have lips to cover sharp looking fangs. Skids was officially scared.

”What? What is it Skids? You look like you saw a ghost!” Swerve laughed, completely oblivious of what was behind him. Until there was a deep gurgling growl. The minibot froze in his place and glanced over his shoulder and Skids saw his friend’s visor flicker.

Bright crimson eyes glared down at small metallurgist and monster’s claws tightened around the energon and it actually cracked under the sharp claws that sank into it, like it was soft energon gelatine.

”Swerve… Back up slowly towards me and don’t take your optics off from that creature…” Skids instructed his friend quietly, trying to stay calm in a dangerous situation. Swerve slowly did as he was told, backing up away, careful not to take his optics off from the monster before them.

The monster stared at them, but when a twig snapped under Swerve’s pede, it growled again and Skids acted. He threw the rock with all his might at the beast and the stone hit it straight to its shoulder. ”Let’s get out of here!” Skids yelled to Swerve and friends quickly transformed and hit the gas and drove away as fast as their tires could take them.

The monster screeched behind them, but the mechs didn’t stay to listen to it, but kept driving. If they were fast they could lose it.

That hope died when the familiar giant shadow landed on top of them. The monster was flying after them. Skids did the right thing he knew was right and opened comm link to the rest of his friends.

’We’re in trouble!’ Skids yelled straight into comm link as soon as he got the line open. ’There is a giant monster chasing me and Swerve!’

’Monster!?’ Came Rodimus’ voice in the comm.

’That’s what we tried to tell you, that there is something seriously dangerous in this planet!’ Nautica screamed to comm link.

’Okay, everyone, get back to the Rodpod, and let’s get out of here! Skids, can you and Swerve lose the monster after you?’ Rodimus asked.

’I don’t think so! It’s flying after us!’

’It can fly!? Interesting! Can you shoot it?’ Brainstorm asked.

’Okay, new plan, Brainstorm get to Rodpod and send an emergency signal to Lost Light! Skids, lead the monster towards South to me! Everyone else, get to the Rodpod and we buy you time to get there before joining you!’

’Got it!’ Everyone shouted and put the plan in action.

”Swerve, head to the Rodpod! I’ll be a decoy so you can get to safety!” Skids shouted over monster’s roaring and Swerve was quick to do as he said. ”Got it, on my way, be safe!” Skids and Swerve made quick turns, each in a different direction, and Skids even flashed his rear light to get the monster’s attention.

Two of them went to complete different directions and Skids did everything he could to get the monster to follow him… but to his horror, the monster ignored him completely. It went after his bartender friend.

Skids tried to turn on all his audios, trying to get a monster to come to him with noises, but the beast only showed interest towards the speeding minibot.

”Frag!” Skids cursed and made a quick U-turn and drove after his friend. He quickly contacted Rodimus.

’Rodimus, plan failed! The monster is after Swerve and heading towards Rodpod!’

’Pit! Okay, try to get that creature’s attention at any cost! I’ll be there in a second!’

’Roger that!’

Skids tried to catch up with his friend as best as he could, but the distance between them had grown too big. He tried to contact Swerve with comm link, but something was jamming the connection. The blue mech cursed and drove faster than he ever remembered driving, but it was too late.

Rodpod came to view and so did all their friends waiting for them there. Chaos hit them all like a shooting star. Everything happened in such a short time that no one couldn’t almost understand it. There was a roar and all of sudden the monster was just before them and glaring each one of them that it saw as invaders.

When Rodimus made it to the scene the beast roared again and surprised everyone by shooting a long stream of pure bright blue flames towards the sky. The heat was overwhelming, even if it wasn’t directed at any mech on the scene and for bots who didn’t feel heat or cold like organics, it was a great shock.

”Primus, it’s enormous!” Nautica shouted.

”Be careful everyone! Get to the ship when you get the first chance!” Rodimus shouted, getting next to Skids.

The monster whipped its enormous head towards Rewind with a growl and Chromedome was in front of his Conjunx Endura in a second, shielding him with his whole body and being, ready to bounce at the monster with empty hands. There wasn’t even a hint of fear of death in his actions. Not towards his death though. If he was to lose Rewind when he had just gotten him back then he would have truly died.

The monster dug its claws into the ground and focused its optics on Nautica and Brainstorm who were standing side by side. When the crimson eyes made contact with the scientist’s optics, he squealed like a mouse and hid behind Nautica, who stood her ground bravely, ready to protect her friend.

The black beast turned its attention on the rest of the group. Rodimus and Skids were side by side, ready to fight together against the attacker, their fists clenched and arms in the right position to throw punches as powerful as possible. For a second, it appeared that the monster was going to back out. It didn’t stop growling, but it raised it’s head off from threatening snapping position and even took a step back to retreat… until its eyes landed on Swerve.

Small, weak, and vulnerable Swerve was hiding behind a tree. That didn’t seem to launch the upcoming attack, but the fact that Swerve was alone.

The monster roared and in a blink of an eye rotated it’s head in a circle, shooting flames all over itself. Mechs ran away from the danger and the monster used the panic it created for its advantage as it ran straight through the fire towards Swerve.

”Swerve!” Skids shouted and ran towards his friend, but the monster whipped around and hit him with its tail, sending him flying straight into the air. Swerve got down on his knees when the monster got to him, trying to appear as small as possible. The beast swiped its claws through the air and with that move sliced the whole tree in pieces.

”Oh Primus, Skids, Captain, somebody!” Swerve screamed in terror as the monster’s claws wrapped around him.

”Hold on Swerve!” Nautica and Rodimus yelled and ran to save their friend. They had no time to waste. The beast turned towards them, roared and with a flap of its great wings, sent a surge of wind at them, knocking them on their afts.

The beast roared again and took off to the sky, Swerve with him and screaming from the bottom of his chassis. ”HEEEEEEELP!”

”Swerve!” The Autobot’s got together, Skids already in a motion to save his friend.

”Where it’s taking Swerve!?” The blue mech shouted, looking at his friends and then towards the black dot on the sky, ”C’mon, we got to follow it before it hurts him!”

Rodimus, Chromedome, and Nautica nodded in agreement.

”Okay, here’s what we do! Brainstorm, you fly after the beast, me and Skids follow behind you while Nautica takes Rewind and Chromedome back to Lost Light and comes back with Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Whirl!” The Captain shouted orders, ready to transform to go after the monster, when Brainstorm got in his way, ”Wait wait, hold on!”

”Brainstorm, what the frag!?” Rodimus shouted at the scientist, ”That beast might drop Swerve at any given second or rip him apart! We must hurry, now!”

”I know I know, but listen! Me and Nautica made some important findings when we were exploring the planet! You see, it’s the start of the Spring season on this planet! Notice how flowers are blooming and those ancient energon bundles are glowing?” Brainstorm asked and pointed at each thing in his speech.

”Cut the chase Brainstorm and tell us what it matters!” Chromedome snapped, still holding Rewind tightly against his chassis, not showing any signs of letting his loved one touch the planet’s ground anymore. The scientist cleared his intake as a lousy cover up to his giddiness towards science, ”It’s animals’ breeding season! Me and Nautica took notes on many animals fragging in the safe places!”

Everyone glanced at Nautica and she nodded, ”Brainy tells the truth. We even saw a weird rodent with reptile tails doing it.”

”So what you’re saying is that-!”

”That’s right!” Brainstorm giggled like a madman, ”That monster saw a potential mate in Swerve, snatched him, and took him with him so it could breed with him!”

#reader #Reader insert #My Story #transformers #eventual smut #writing #Rodimus #Swerve #Nautica #Brainstorm #Chromedome #Rewind #Skids #simple femme

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donewithjeon · 7 years

Text

Downfall [15]

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 7,908

Genre: Assassin AU

Two hits in one night—now it’s starting to look like a party.

The first stop at the dance studio did nothing but confirm your team’s suspicions that there’s something meaningful to be found with these map points. Although you’re not sure what exactly the enemy is trying to accomplish, you can still deduce that the information is critical enough to be kept a secret at such high stakes. Why else would the man have decided that it was better to take himself out than to let himself be taken by your team?

A bullet to the head was definitely the easy way out, especially compared to the other options awaiting your captive if you had been able to bring him in.

Alas, without an extra body stowed in the back of the van, you must move on to find a different lead. Thankfully, your thoughts of the previous location slip further from your mind with the growing distance the vehicle puts behind it. It’s a bit of a drive from the dance studio, an hour and a half to be exact, but it’s a good idea to separate yourself from the scene, especially when it goes up in flames like it did. Plus, Namjoon chose this next place because it seemed “promising” during his initial GPS scan of the marks on the map—you just hope that he’s right.

The night is still young when you pass the road signs welcoming you into Gimpo, and by the time Jimin pulls up a block away from the destination, it’s almost midnight.

The target this time is a warehouse; it stands in the form of a fairly large and nondescript building. The exterior is plain and well-maintained with stripes and blocks of vibrant green accenting random parts of the windowed walls. The interior lights are shut off and the only illumination is coming from the lamps distributed meagerly across the side lots. The parking area is completely empty at this hour, and even the security post at the vehicle entrance gate is pitch-black and uninhabited. The absence of the latter seems negotiable with the presence of a fence surrounding the entire grounds—it’s painted the same unsightly green as the sections of the building—but it’s merely a barrier intended to keep the cars and trucks out at night. You and your team will be able to scale it with just a little effort.

The immediate region is just as quiet as the location prior to this one, but you hold off any and all judgments until you get a chance to check indoors, since you know how the situation turned out last time.

Silence is not always a good thing, much like the calm before the storm.

After jumping the fence and taking some time to scout the perimeter for any alternate entrances, you guys find a shabby door to serve as your way in next to one of the many shipment garage panels in the back. Jimin is able to pick the lock and get it open without too much of a fuss; the rusted metal panel can hardly be called a door, but the lack of an alarm implementation is only advantageous for you. Things would have gone a lot quicker if Taehyung didn’t breathe down Jimin’s neck as he worked, purposely irritating him with remarks like “your technique’s all wrong” and “are you sure you don’t need your reading glasses?”, all with his sing-song voice that’s bound to get him in trouble one day—if it hasn’t already.

Nevertheless, you and your team make your way inside without any premature casualties or bruised feelings.

The first thing you see when you enter is darkness. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust as you carefully glide across coated concrete floor, but when they finally do, you still don’t see much. All the lights are off on the ground floor, but the glow of the exit signs and the gleams of moonlight seeping in through the lengthy windows provide you with the visibility you need. There’s an elevator on the opposite side of the room, and the giant double doors lead you to assume that it’s predominantly used to carry cargo and supplies between the multiple levels. Other than that standalone feature, several tall, industrial shelves are positioned before you in rows that look to continue in all directions.

Wordlessly, your team fans out, and you continue on your path by following the western wall to the front of the warehouse. Your arms are held out beside you, almost tilted back a bit as you keep your hands steady for the prospect of a quick draw. You’re wary of any noises that aren’t the footsteps of you or your teammates, but so far, there seems to be nothing out of the ordinary.

You take the time to skim over the contents of the metal shelves that are stacked higher than you can even hope to reach. The items are cylindrical, almost resembling logs wrapped in sheets of plastic, and are clustered in tight groupings on top of one another. After closer inspection, you realize that they are rolls of some sort of mass-produced fabric, bringing you to your educated guess that this is a textile warehouse.

It’s not exactly the most dangerous or thrilling facility you have broken into, but at least there are some things to sift through with the optimism that this long trip out of the city wasn’t for nothing.

All of a sudden, you hear a whirring noise as you near the center of the row you’re standing in. The sound is constant and familiar, and as you keep stepping forward, it only grows in volume.

“I hear something,” you immediately report into your earpiece, just in case it’s worth investigating.

“Well, what is it?” you hear Jimin’s voice answer back.

You see a small hallway branching off of the large area your team is currently scattered across, and when you draw nearer towards the separate zone, you lean your back against the wall before peering over the corner. It appears to be a dead end with the hallway concluding only a short distance from the mouth, but your eyes lock onto the adjacent wall observable from your position.

There’s a dull and dented metal door slightly recessed into the wall, and glancing up at the LED panel above it that changes from a bright red 5 to a 4 before your eyes, you’re positive that it’s the source of the noise.

“Someone’s coming down the passenger elevator,” you say, diverting your attention to press the back of your head onto the wall behind you. The other side of the comms goes silent, and rightfully so—they are all probably at a standstill, waiting for a signal from you to either stay put or make a move.

If the container is at all comparative to the size of the door, it only seems to be big enough to hold a couple people at once. You weigh your options for a surprise attack, but you would have to count on the fact that whoever is coming down here is doing it unknowingly, if the first floor is even the destination.

Before you can come to a decision, you hear footsteps closing in at a fast pace, and you turn your head to the end of the row closest to you just in time to see Jungkook’s figure pop out from his respective aisle. He flashes you a quick smile, which you respond by creasing your eyebrows in confusion, and your gaze follows him as he paces the few steps it takes to go down the hall before stopping in front of the elevator.

“I’ll handle it,” he speaks with confidence to the whole team, but it seems primarily directed at you. You feel the urge to roll your eyes or bite back with how you’re perfectly capable of handling it yourself, but you refrain for the sake of not reverting back to your teenage years. Besides, with Jungkook, you know that his actions are merely due to his undying need to jump into the front lines rather than the reason having anything to do with you or your skills.

“Be my guest,” you grumble curtly, eyeing the LED panel just as the number changes into a 1. A hollow ding resonates through the air, but Jungkook doesn’t move from his spot right in front of the elevator. He obviously is abandoning all discretion this time around and replacing it with borderline arrogance as he stands there, casually waiting for the door to open.

“Don’t get too carried away.”

Namjoon’s reminder enters into your ear just as the metal panel slides open. A man appears at the opening, most likely about to step out into the hall, but with one look at the stranger in front of him, his entire body tenses as if he’s a deer in headlights. You’re able to register an astonished yelp before you see Jungkook leap forward into the elevator. Both of them disappear past your range of view, and you hear a leaden thud followed by a series of strangled noises trying to escape from someone’s throat.

You decide to get a better look at the concealed scuffle, but as you leave your initial spot to move closer, you witness the metal door slide shut once again, completely blocking your sight and muffling the sounds. Jogging up in front of the dusty panel, you watch the brightly-lit number to see if it changes, but it stays right where it is.

In fact, another resounding ding causes you to tear your eyes away from the light to look straight ahead. The door opens up again to reveal Jungkook standing right up against it, facing you with his doe-like orbs.

“All clear,” he says with a content grin. Your eyes lock with his for a moment before they dart over to the far corner of the metal container. The incapacitated man is sitting on the floor, leaning against the reflective surface of the walls with his limbs sprawled out in front of him. He’s wearing a gray uniform of some sort, and judging by the badge embroidered onto his shirt, he just seems to be a simple security guard working the graveyard shift—nothing that could possibly elicit any more than minimum wage.

“Seven floors,” Jungkook speaks up, gaining your attention once more. You see his eyes dart down the side of the elevator imperceptible by you where the buttons for the levels are surely located. Without warning, he takes a large stride forward and off of the platform, barely giving you enough time to step back and allow him enough space to stand as the door closes behind him. “Shall we work our way up?” He lifts his arm up towards the main area, his open palm facing upward in a polite gesture that seems ironic when compared to how he utilized that hand only a minute ago.

With the way Jungkook painlessly took out the security guard, your team still has a decent possibility of remaining inconspicuous to any other possible lookouts on the upper levels. You don’t want to ruin that by taking the elevator unless you need to; the chances of it becoming a metal death trap are very high when confined in an enclosure like that in unfamiliar territory.

“Stairs over here,” Namjoon directs his deep voice into the comms. “Northeast corner.”

“Got it,” you respond back. Without missing a beat, you head to where the rest of the team are probably already making their way up to the second floor. You can hear the soles of Jungkook’s boots landing on the hard concrete as he ambles behind you before catching up and matching your pace beside you. From the corner of your eye, you can tell that he still has a tiny grin on his lips, making you wonder if he’s actually that pleased about taking care of the security guard.

It’s a different smile from the one you witnessed as he rained bullets upon the enemies in the dance studio, but it’s one you’re well-acquainted with nonetheless. You brush off the curiosity before you can find yourself pondering over the subject again, already feeling like you hit the quota of how many thoughts you’re supposed to have about your teammate for the night. You have learned not to be perturbed by his more childish smiles and strangely good moods during missions, specifically during downtime such as this—you don’t bother to ask him about the reason, because the answer always remains the same.

“We’re still alive, aren’t we?”

You’re at the fourth floor at this point, trying to stifle a yawn as you walk down the moonlit aisles of the industrial racks. It’s been a long day, and you didn’t necessarily get as much sleep you were hoping last night. Still, you are trying your best to stay alert of your surroundings, but it’s proving difficult to do so when nothing around you is changing.

Contrary to your mindset just a few hours ago, this is one of the more pitiful parties you have attended.

The rest of the boys have split up to scout the other levels, most of them being above you except for Namjoon who is on the third floor, examining the surveillance machines and security equipment you guys came across in one of the few rooms. He’s the most qualified to handle the technical side of things out of the bunch, so you and the others leave him to his duties while tending to your own. It has been an unfruitful search so far, but the eerie stillness of the towering shelves of supplies almost makes you feel like something’s going to jump out of the shadows.

Nothing of that sort has happened yet, but you’re starting to wish that it would.

The textile warehouse is as normal as can be, filled with rows upon rows of piled fabric rolls either huddled in their own miniature mountains or tucked away inside the frames of smaller shelves so snugly that they look like they’re suffocating. One thing your team was able to uncover from the examination thus far is the name of the company this building belongs to. Since there were no obnoxiously bold letters on the side of the building letting you know, it took a bit of rummaging through the offices on the third floor to find out.

Cheil Industries—unfortunately, the name rings no bells for you or your teammates. The obliviousness is to be expected since the more well-known brand names are only tacked on after the articles of clothing or home furnishings are manufactured with the materials.

At least the name gives you something to relay to Jin later on when you inevitably have to do a mission report.

You turn another corner, about to do a U-turn into the next aisle over, but you stop in your tracks when you hear Taehyung’s voice through your earpiece.

“Guys, I found something. Sixth floor.”

That’s all you really need to turn on your heel and start making your way to the stairwell.

“What is it?” you hear Jimin ask sharply.

“You’re going to want to see this for yourself,” is the reply back. Elusive and intriguing—exactly the type of answer to shut Jimin up and make you quicken your pace up the steps.

After effortlessly climbing several flights of stairs—it’s an acquired skill of yours now, verified by your sweat-free brow—you push open the door to the sixth floor, receiving an elongated squeak from the hinges. It seems as though you’re the third to arrive, but you’re right on the heels of Jimin and Jungkook. You trail behind them as they make a beeline to the back of the center row where Taehyung is leaning against the frame of one of the tall, metal shelves.

This particular floor is dissimilar to yours, because in lieu of the tubes of cloth being amassed in their exposed state, the textiles are stored in boxes and crates stacked upon the spacious racks—at least, they’re supposed to be textiles.

“Feast your eyes,” Taehyung exclaims dramatically, moving his arms in a grand fashion to bring your attention to one of the boxes sitting on the lower shelf with the top popped open. Stepping up behind the other boys who are drawing closer to take a look, you peer inside the particular box and see the mounds of colorful fabric messily bunched aside to reveal clusters of black and silver objects.

Guns.

“Holy shit,” you hear Jungkook exclaim under his breath, obviously not having expected to find a needle in a haystack like this.

“Are all the other boxes like this?” You turn to look down the row you are standing at the end of. There are only a handful of other crates lining both sides of the aisle with the lids haphazardly closed back up after being fiddled with, no doubt Taehyung’s doing.

“I’m not sure. This is the first one I found so far.”

“What’s in the box?” Namjoon’s voice interrupts your thoughts, reminding you that he’s still making his way up the stairs.

“Firearms,” you reply, sidestepping past Jungkook to go up to the adjacent container. “Hidden underneath the fabric.”

Unsheathing your knife, you cut through the bindings of the second box with a swift motion. You reach into the contents after you get it open and feel around the layered cloth to push it away from the middle. Sure enough, your fingers come in contact with a cold, solid material, and when you pull it out to examine it in the scarce lighting, you can tell that the handgun is identical to the ones in the first case.

“How did you know which boxes to check?” You pose the question to Taehyung, impressed by his diligence and decision to dig deeper even after breaching the surface. His shoulders perk up as he presents you with a nonchalant shrug.

“Lucky guess.”

You purse your lips before replacing the gun back where you found it. You’re not sure what kind of answer you were hoping for, but he gave you the one you were most expecting. Looking at Taehyung standing there on his own two feet, the only remnants of what happened today wrapped within the bandages on his right hand, you’re having a hard time disputing his immensely good fortune.

That’s why he’s your ace.

It doesn’t take Namjoon long at all to catch up with the rest of the team, providing news that the surveillance footage for the premises is taken care of. After spreading out to crack open a few more crates, you guys come to realize that there are more of these special kinds sprinkled throughout the room.

“This place is an arsenal.” You glance up at the voice from the box you’re currently delving through—there’s nothing of interest but plain textiles in this one—and you see your brother walking up to you with a pensive expression. “We can’t possibly confiscate everything in here.”

He’s definitely right. You don’t even know where all of the goods are located, and there is no way you’re going to spend the remainder of the night playing hide-and-seek with these covert boxes. Destroying everything is also out of the question without the proper provisions and supervision, and moreover, it won’t generate a desirable outcome. Everything in here is valuable evidence, and it helps that the evidence has high usability from the looks of it, too.

“What do you suggest we do?” You turn to face Namjoon, knowing that he has a plan already laid out in his mind—he just needs to get it out for everyone else to hear.

“First, we should take one of the pieces back to headquarters so we can have Hoseok analyze it.”

You hear a shifting sound behind you, and when you look over your shoulder, you see Taehyung stretching his arm into one of the previously-opened boxes before pulling out a black revolver that seems considerably smaller than it actually is when held in his large grasp; it’s a commendable choice on his part to take a portable item not too bulky in size. You watch him twist his body towards you and Namjoon as he puts the gun in the back of his waistband for safekeeping.

“Done!” he announces buoyantly, flashing his empty palms for a good measure in a way that suspiciously resembles jazz hands after performing a disappearing act.

It’s a surprise that Taehyung doesn’t have the entire contents of that box shoved down his pants by now—he’s not really the best at taking only what is necessary. You wonder how he even manages to carry so many things at once without it ever weighing him down, but then you remember that he emptied out his pockets on the drive over here, leaving the dead receptionist’s handgun and any other trinkets he may have picked up in the van.

“What about the rest?”

The voice makes you turn your attention forward, and you see Jungkook walking up to stop next to Namjoon. Jimin follows right behind him to be the last one to join this impromptu meeting.

“We leave it—set it on fire and let the clean-up crew take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” You frown at the plan that seems so unsatisfactory at a first listen, not really convinced yet that this is the only way.

“There wasn’t any dynamite in these boxes, right?”

“Not that we know of.” Subsequent to the search through the relevant crates dispersed between the multiple rows, the theme for this secret base only seems to be guns, guns, and more guns—nothing that will cause harm when set ablaze.

“Then we should be fine,” Namjoon answers, sharing the same thoughts as you. He isn’t wrong about that; the most that would happen is that the bullets may cook off, but that’s a likelihood exclusive to ammunition, something that none of you saw occupying any of the weapons’ magazines or cylinders—but that’s not what you’re worried about.

“This is a textile warehouse, remember?” you explain, not that anyone needs a reminder of the dizzying amount of fabric stored in this place. “The whole building is going to burn up.”

“That just means less for the police to sift through,” Taehyung says with a cheery tone before volunteering to go fetch the accelerant from the van to get this plan started.

Namjoon seems to have noticed your prolonged grimace, because he goes on to precisely explain his strategy and why it is the most opportune one. You guys will be limiting the spread of the fire to a certain area of this floor, opting for the side of the building with extensive windows that are facing the apartment buildings in the distance. With the position of the flames, someone will be able to see them almost as soon as they are lit, and they will most likely notify the authorities in order to dispatch the first responders for structural fires.

From there, your team will have to leave the rest of the mission in the hands of the officers; once they find the weapons, coupled with the fire, the evidence will give them several motives to find out who the owner of the warehouse is. It will only be a matter of time until the organization is slipped that precious bit of information.

Then you will be given a new target.

You spend some time listening to Namjoon present his points far too meticulously than you would have liked, and after a while, you resort to just nodding in agreement at whatever else he has to say, hoping that your compliance will get him to stop talking.

Letting the law enforcement take over from here almost makes it feel like you’re personally leaving the job unfinished, but you sedate the reluctance that’s still left within you. The clock is ticking and your options have run out, so it’s best to come to terms with the fact that this is the smartest and only choice available at the moment. Fortunately, this tactic will be most effective in chasing your potential lead out of hiding and cornering the person into an easy capture, but this advantage will only work if you get to the target before the cops do.

“This is fun,” Taehyung proclaims once he returns from the trip to the van with a gas can at hand. You swear that there’s a skip in his step as he walks past you to hand the item over to Jungkook. “It’s like we’re playing the good guys.”

“We’re burning down a weapons facility,” you retort, clearly not understanding what the imperceptible goodwill of the imminent destruction could possibly be.

“I know!” Taehyung’s chipper demeanor doesn’t change in the slightest, even as you raise your eyebrow at him. “I feel like Captain America.”

You hear Jungkook scoff over to the side where he is in the middle of distributing the accelerant in the designated area, and you repress the urge to do the same. You’re barely able to register that it’s a reference to the first movie of the franchise, having only seen it to placate Taehyung’s urgings to “keep up with the times”. You’re amazed not only by his tendency to seemingly never run out of energy, but you have no idea how he finds the time to melt his brain with movies and TV shows alike.

“We better stop the presses.” Namjoon tries to interject the superhero talk, making the suggestion more to himself than anyone else as he pulls out his phone to undoubtedly check the time. “We should let them know that there’s going to be some breaking news.”

Although Kim Daily is just a guise for the organization, it is still a fully operational news company. It prospers due to the uncanny ability to be the earliest to arrive at almost every major scene and the knack for always leaving with the best first-hand information.

Who better to report about an incident than the ones who cause it?

“I can’t wait for that to come out,” Jungkook says as he walks up to everyone else, the gas can swinging in his hand looking lighter than before. “‘Captain America suspected of arson at textile warehouse in Gimpo’. Now that’s a headline.”

“Eh, not the most bizarre one I’ve seen,” Jimin inserts with an unimpressed shrug. Before he can start listing off all the strange and probably inappropriate articles he has come across, Namjoon interrupts the lovely group discussion again.

“If we’re all ready.” Understanding his roundabout way of saying “shut up and let’s go”, you take it as your cue to do exactly that, leaving the Captain behind to ignite the flames. The rest of you scurry down the stairwell and out of the building to file into the vehicle you arrived here in.

Taehyung shows up a few minutes later, and when Jungkook opens the car door for him to enter, he practically climbs over the younger boy to get to the very back, successfully grabbing the top of his head to keep steady. He only manages to spill onto his seat after a helpful shove in the rear from a complaining Jungkook.

By the time you guys settle into your seats, you can hear the distinguishable sound of sirens humming in the distance. Someone was already able to see the fire, but you’re not shocked in the slightest. The embers came alive even before Taehyung flung himself into the van, and they are working fast to spread on the sixth floor, emitting a bright, orange glow through the sporadic windows that makes it resemble sparkling Christmas lights.

In the darkness of this industrial area, it really is a sight to behold.

As Jimin drives away from the scene, you watch the light show start to diminish with each passing second until it completely fades away, the spectacle now obstructed by other buildings and foliage. Turning your attention back into the van, you listen as Namjoon starts talking about the next move.

Thankfully, he proposes turning in for the night.

The events that occurred so far will most likely send the authorities into high alert. This means that police of all sorts will be on the lookout or even hunting for clues in the neighboring areas, and that’s not a preferable condition to go cause more mayhem. Even Mr. Shin doesn’t have all the power in the world, which in turn makes sense that not all members of the law enforcement are under his thumb. He has just enough influence to ensure that you are all safe from them, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a chance you can get caught if you decide to be reckless.

Three hits in one night is a little much, even for you guys. Two is usually the limit, because by the time it gets to the third, it becomes a motif. That’s when you get too predictable, and the last thing the organization wants is excessive attention on all the wrong things.

So, with the missions more or less cleared for now, it only leaves you with one more thing to do: report.

It takes more or less an hour to drive to your destination, most of which was spent staring aimlessly out of your window. Before you exit the van, you take the time to remind Taehyung about passing the confiscated revolvers to Hoseok so that he can work on identifying the weapons. He just gives you a thumbs up from the backseat before waving his hand to send you on your way. You hop out of the vehicle, and the door closes behind you before the car goes speeding off again, leaving you alone on the streets of Gangnam—specifically, Nonhyeon.

The reason for dropping you off like this is quite simple: you’re the only one fit for this job.

Even if that’s not true, you’re going to keep telling yourself that so you don’t feel annoyed by your blatant desertion. The others are on their way back to headquarters or possibly even their apartments, but you’re here because Namjoon bestowed this responsibility on your shoulders since even your early days of joining the team.

There was no rock-paper-scissors like with the younger boys—just orders.

Wasting no time, you begin down the polished and paved path, keeping up your pace for a couple minutes until the back of the bustling building comes into view. You don’t need to see the front to know what it is—you’ve set your eyes upon the angular, illuminated letters and the distinct, geometric emblem above the entrance many times in the past.

Club Octagon.

You frequent this place for the sole purpose of meeting with your supervisor in order to personally convey your report to him and receive any necessary instructions for the following morning. He is currently fulfilling his own duties at the moment by being in that hellhole, so you can’t possibly complain about having to go in there too—at least, not in front of him.

From what you can remember, Namjoon has never set foot in this club, not counting the times he visited outside of the hours of operation. Somehow, he has made you into a messenger to and from this world of disorienting music and mind-numbingly expensive booze. You can’t blame him for choosing you as the only one in the team he can trust to go in and out without any complications, but you don’t know why he’s so adamant about refusing to go himself. He always makes the same excuse of having other matters to attend to, but if you have to guess, you would say that it’s just another characteristic of his uptight and starchy personality.

Although you have to admit, the club is not for the faint of heart.

Absently waving at the bouncer guarding the unpopulated entry, you watch him open the door for you with a grin that barely makes it past looking like a grimace. You could already hear the thumping bass from a block away, but now that you’re in the belly of the beast, it’s the only thing you can feel. As you carefully climb down the stairs into the basement where the club is actually located, you can’t help but feel glad that the violently flashing lights are less inclined to reach this part of the venue.

The only saving grace of coming to this place is, without a doubt, the backdoor. It’s a relief that you don’t ever need to experience what it’s like up front. This club is awfully exclusive, only doing business Thursday through Saturday, so even though it’s not technically the weekend yet, the nature of this establishment makes it so that the peak hours are basically every hour that this place is up and running. Seeing how it’s nearing three in the morning, the day having switched from Thursday to Friday when the clock struck midnight, the crowd inside doesn’t seem to be exhibiting any signs of leaving soon.

Several years back, the organization was kind enough to assign this nightclub to someone they were sure would run it well: Jin. He was granted ownership of this establishment not too long after he was promoted to the team’s supervising officer. It takes a substantial amount of trust from the higher-ups for something like this to happen, especially when there are many older and wiser members of the organization Jin potentially beat out for the position.

It’s a lot of responsibility to put on anyone’s plate, but you know that there’s an additional crucial and deciding factor that was the icing on the cake of their decision.

It’s not complicated—Jin is extremely handsome. Anyone with eyes knows that, and there’s no way in hell that he doesn’t know it, too.

Word soon got around about the ridiculously attractive owner of the hot new club in Gangnam. This worked wonders to draw more females to the venue, particularly ones who were fresh-faced and attractive themselves, and in turn, this rise led to more party-ready males with fat wallets to become regulars as well.

Thus, business increased tenfold.

Jin usually stays within the confines of his private room, but he knows how to find the right moments to take a stroll around the VIP areas. He’s phenomenal at feeling the crowd and socializing with exuding confidence, and these occasional sightings of his strikingly good looks are just enough to keep the buzz alive.

Although this extra influx of money is nothing to brush off so simply, it is not the true purpose for owning a business like this. Behind the scenes of this tremendously successful club and lounge is a safe haven where clients can come in to place their offers and requests. Jin, along with some other supervisors who use the club more intermittently, meets with these patrons throughout the night and negotiates the terms of even the most staggering and unspeakable jobs.

It’s very rare that a deal goes sour and even more so when it’s Jin sitting at the other end of the table—he tends to get what he wants, all while letting the other party pay the price.

You turn right at the bottom of the stairs and let your legs carry you to the other side of the club. The floor is a glossy concrete, much like the one you walked upon at the warehouse earlier, but it’s noticeably better quality, living up to the Gangnam name. You’re on the third and topmost level, but the railed pathway only follows along the outer walls, leaving the center wide open so that you can see the dance floor at the bottom. You decide to ignore the pandemonium going on below for now and focus on the burly man standing at the end of the hallway. The moment he lays his eyes on you, he gives you a knowing nod before stepping aside to let you pass into the hall tucked away in the corner of the club.

That head tip only means one thing: Jin is not speaking to any visitors right now. You’re glad you don’t have to wait tonight—sometimes, you’re stuck here for hours on end, hoping that Jin finishes up whatever meeting he’s in before you call it quits and walk downstairs to the VIP bar. You rap your knuckles twice on the very first door to your left, the sound completely inaudible under the blaring beats of song playing, before twisting the handle and pushing it open to let yourself in.

The second you close the door behind you with a solid snap, the pounding music seizes to exist, leaving only dull drone in the background of the sounds too loud for even the soundproofing to suppress.

The private room is not as outstanding in size as his office back in headquarters, but it’s adequate enough for Jin and his obligations. There is a dark red leather couch hugging the back wall that stretches lengthwise to hook around and onto the wall immediately to your left. In front of it is a long, rectangular table with a shiny black finish, the corners of the slab cut off so that the shape has eight sides instead of four; other than upholding a flat silver object you assume is a laptop, the surface is bare. On the far end of the table is another leather seat similar to the sectional sofa, except this one is only made for one person.

Jin is sitting in his spot on the single seater, his impeccable posture accentuated by the crisp business suit fitted on his body. The black blazer is on this time instead of draped over the nearest chair, but the button is unclasped to allow him to sit comfortably. His eyes are darting over the numerous TV screens installed on the back wall; they show live CCTV footage of everything from the hallway just outside of this door to the back entryway you just came from. Even from his own isolated room, Jin is able to keep track of everything and everyone, and you don’t expect any less.

This is his place, after all.

“Just you again?” Jin speaks up, averting his attention from the screens to greet you, letting a smile form on his face so that his words don’t seem hostile. You’re sure that he knows the answer to that question, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“As always.” You slide onto the couch so that you’re on the opposite end of the table from him, extending your arms out in front of you to rest them on the cold surface. You wait for a typical sigh to escape his lips, but all he does is keep his smile going strong as he reaches in front of him to open the laptop.

“With the others, I just assume no news is good news.”

“A wise choice,” you say, cracking a smile back at him.

Without resorting to any more small talk, you dive into explaining the events that occurred tonight, mapping out every single detail to the best of your ability. You tell him everything he needs to know: the final body count at the first location including the suicidal receptionist, the discovery of the weapons buried deep within the Cheil Industries warehouse, the two pieces of evidence your team was able to retrieve from both sites, and the confirmation of the fires you ultimately set to them.

After keeping up with your monologue and typing all of the relevant data into the device in front of him, he promptly carries on by devising the next portion of the plan. He tells you that the best thing to do now is to wait for the authorities to do their part, further establishing the conclusion you and your team already came up with. You guys need to wait for the information on your lead to trickle in before you can embark on any searches and seizures of your own accord. The main person of interest is the mysterious owner of the warehouse, but considering the messy situation you left behind, eluding the police—more importantly, the organization—won’t work for long.

“I’m going to have a word with the chief to get everything sorted out.” Jin closes the laptop again so that it claps shut before he clutches his hands together on top of the sleek cover. “I’ll send out a message once I have more info to give, but just know that you should all be ready to go back to business first thing in the morning.”

You can’t help let a wry grin appear on your lips at the fact that it’s morning right now, but you nod responsively to the order. “I’ll let everyone know.”

“Good. That’s all for now.”

Jin concludes the two-person meeting, but you are planted in your spot. You contemplate leaving right away so that you can try your hand at getting a decent amount of rest, but something in the back of your mind prevents you from doing so. He is aware of this too, and he patiently keeps his eyes on you, waiting for the inevitable words to come out of your mouth.

“What did the wanted man even do?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment before your supervisor’s answer floats out almost automatically. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. As long as we follow protocol, he won’t be a problem anymore.”

It’s highly unusual for the organization to have qualms with anyone enough to put out a warrant, especially just for one man, unless compensated by your loyal customers to do so. All business is handled objectively, meaning that the only enemies you really have are the enemies of your clients.

It’s almost never anything personal, but you have a feeling this is exactly that.

“We’re being sent on this wild goose chase about a guy we barely have any details about. I think I deserve to know something so that I’m not just going in blind.”

Jin is silent, but his gaze never leaves yours—in fact, it’s like you can almost feel his burning through yours and hitting the back of your skull, but you stay resolute. A few seconds go by in this stalemate, although you’re certain that if this is a staring contest, you’re going to lose miserably.

At least you won’t go down without a fight.

Much to your relief, there is no need for that. The missing breath of air you were waiting for before exhales from Jin’s lungs as he leans back into his chair resignedly.

“The guy’s a murderer,” he explains, starting off strong. “He wiped out an entire team in one go by blowing up the mission site that turned out to be a hoax. Everyone thinks that he’s a key player in a bigger strategy to take our organization down, so this case is very high on our priority list.”

You listen attentively as things seem to fall into place. It makes sense why your team was sent to Wolmido at the slightest hint of trouble; the false wanted man fessed up about some shipments coming into the dock, and now that you have the right context clues, you can deduce that the items he was talking about were bombs.

In a situation like this, every precaution has to be taken—no warnings can be ignored.

“Don’t think too much about it.” Jin pulls you from your thoughts as he stands up from his seat, smoothing out his white shirt before clasping one of the buttons on the blazer. “It’ll keep you up at night.”

He says that as if you don’t have enough to worry about. You get up from your own spot to stretch your limbs, knowing that what he gave you is probably the best you’re going to get out of him. Jin saunters over to the exit before wrapping his fingers around the silver handle. He pauses to give you a stern look that you can only assume is reminding you that any and all conversations that happened here will not be making it past this door.

“Get some rest,” he repeats his ever-nagging sentence. You wish you could say the same to him, but you know that there’s still a few hours left until the club closes. He probably won’t get any sleep tonight, but that leaves you to wonder when he even has the time to do so.

You’ll leave that question for another time.

Jin opens the door for you, successfully breaking the floodgates and letting in all the noise that now hits your eardrums with twice the force. Throwing your hand up to wave so long to your supervisor, you proceed into the hallway and retrace your steps to make your way out of this place.

As you tread down the platform in the direction you came from, you let your eyes wander over the metal railing. Immediately, your sight is barraged with flashing lights and lasers; the beams unpredictably shoot out in different directions, setting a blazing path of vivid colors into every corner of the club. The intensity is almost on par with the dancing embers you created and witnessed not too long ago.

It’s a different kind of light show, but arguably equally as destructive.

With each flash of light, you can see the wisps of vapor rising from both the fog machine and the collective cigarettes being consumed within the sea of intoxicated people. The smoke is not as thick and opaque as the kind that was released from the burning buildings, but it saturates the stuffy atmosphere in a way that leaves no room for uncontaminated air.

Again, both seem equally as destructive.

You rip your gaze away from the scene once you reach the stairs that will lead you out of this underworld. It seriously feels like a different realm down here compared to the utter stillness and obscurity you faced for the majority of the missions, even with the few parallels you are able to draw. Briskly jogging up the steps, your sensory overload begins to dissipate little by little until you finally make it out of the madness with a push of the backdoor.

Your ears feel a bit murky and you can still see blossoms of light appearing before your eyes, painting the dim streets in front of you with the afterimages of the luminescent club lights. You try to blink them away, but they grow stronger each time, almost as if you are only fanning the flames.

While the images you saw inside Octagon linger in your vision, the images of the structural fires you pulled up for comparison swim in your mind, and along with it, a conjuring of the devastating event that you were finally lucky enough to have Jin disclose to you.

You still have no clue who the wanted man is or what he wants, other than for you all to die, but after the discussion with Jin, you know one thing is for certain—he won’t be a problem as long as everyone does their job.

He too shall burn.

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