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oyubaat-tapcaf · 3 years

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Hatred

Also available on AO3

summary: The young Boba Fett failed his mission and has to tell Vader. Ends up with him getting force choked. characters: Boba Fett, Darth Vader wordcount: 2.632 warnings: canon typical violence, choking, trauma, loss of loved one, pretty intense stuff overall “I might give you another chance, Fett,” the low, robotic voice echoed through the room.The bounty hunter felt his legs give out and he collapsed to the ground, knees first. He held himself upright with one arm, the other one was still clutching at his throat. A pained sound left his lips..” I watched tcw and wondered if Boba ever got choked by darh vader since the dude has some attitude

Boba Fett watched the light of the sun entering the insides of the imperial star destroyer. The whole room was filled with a red and yellow glow, almost seeming romantic. The shields of the massive destroyer held back the heat that was radiating from the star, though Boba felt it crawling under his armour, in his flightsuit, even under his helmet.

He had failed his mission, he was ashamed. Vader had hired him because he was the best. Fett wasn’t a man to be much intimidated by other people. Vader though was different. Not only the artificial breathing that was echoing in his helmet but his overall appearance made Boba shiver. Vader seemed inhuman, more machine than an actual living thing.

“So you failed,” stated the Dark Lord with his machine-like voice, his back facing the bounty hunter. The hot light of the sun was reflected by the helmet on his head. Unlike Fett’s helmet. The green paint was chipped and far from reflecting anything so beautiful. He wasn’t a man of much glamour.

Fett realised that Vader was waiting for an answer. He took a sharp breath and swallowed the thick knot in his throat.

“They escaped, my Lord. I would be able to track them though but this might take a while.”

Vader could feel just how tense the bounty hunter was. Boba Fett was a skilled man, though, this time he had disappointed him. The Sith could nearly taste the stale taste of Fett's fear. It pleased him. He turned around to face the hunter, who was standing in the middle of the room, rifle in his hands, always ready to attack. Or defend.

“I thought you were the best, Fett.”

Boba felt shivers all over him. He hated himself for failing. He hated himself for how afraid he was. He felt like a child that got scolded by his parents.

“I am,” he answered, his voice surprisingly stable.

Vader made a few steps in the Mandalorian's direction. With every step, he could feel Fett’s fear and frustration growing stronger. The hunter didn’t move, but he was radiating so much energy. Only Vader knew it though.

“You’re scared.”

Fett twitched at that, only slightly. He felt offended.

“I am not,” the Mandalorian hissed. He gripped his rifle tighter, trying to hold onto it as some kind of support. He didn’t like Sith Lords, at all. They always tend to lash out. Of course, he would never admit his anxiety towards Lord Vader, he hired him.

Suddenly, the energy in the room changed. The air became thick and Boba’s skin felt electric. He didn’t even have the time to blink before he felt a cold, wet grip on his throat cutting off his air supply. He panicked and his hands flew up to clutch at his neck but nothing was there. Only the collar of his flightsuit, as always.

Boba gasped out loud, horrified by what was happening to him. This wasn’t the first time he got choked like this. He remembered, right after he escaped prison in his teenage years, he came across this weird lady on a job on Quarzite. After all of his crew got thrown off the train they were on he was alone with her. She never told him her name but now he was sure that she was a Sith. He remembers the cold, invisible hand on his throat. he was horrified then, just as he was now.

Vader though was much stronger and it wasn’t just the cold fingers clamping down on his windpipe. Vader’s aura was washing over him, cold as ice. He felt the coldness on his whole body, down to the bone. A low humming sound surrounded him and his lungs started to ache.

“I might give you another chance, Fett,” the low, robotic voice echoed through the room.

The bounty hunter felt his legs give out and he collapsed to the ground, knees first. He held himself upright with one arm, the other one was still clutching at his throat. A pained sound left his lips.

Boba felt his head spinning and his vision began to blur. The red light of the star was mixing with the destroyers artificial lights. His rifle was laying in front of him. His survival instinct was screaming at him to take it and shoot, but Boba knew that this would get him in much more trouble. He tried to suck in more air but the iron grip on his throat didn’t let anything come through. The air that was left in his lungs was spent and if Vader didn’t let go of him soon, he would pass out.

The Sith knew just how much he can make the Mandalorian suffer before really hurting him. He was amused by the sounds that came from the hunter’s mouth. Sadly, he couldn’t see his face but he could just imagine the pained expression on Fett. He knew how the man looked, he had seen his face a thousand times, but not on this man.

Vader let go of Boba and took a small step back.

Fett took a few ragged, painful breaths to get back the much-needed oxygen in his system. Boba tried not to seem too miserable, it wasn’t easy though. He felt like he couldn’t even stand on his own feet anymore. The grip on his throat was gone but the cold shivers didn’t go away and his skin burned as if he was laying in ice water.

“But you better not disappoint me again.”

Boba Fett felt hot rage blossoming in his stomach. It bubbled up to his chest, making his heart rate pick up even more. It made it’s way up into his head. Bobas cheeks grew hot. His tone was filled with venom when he started to speak in a raspy voice:

“...always treating your partners like this?”

The hunter always had issues controlling himself. Anger was the most he felt and he could never find a place for it other than towards other people. He knew that spitting words at Darth Vader like this would get him in much more trouble. But he wanted the trouble. He always sought it. It was who he was. Anger was his fuel for and even if Vader hurt him more, he needed it.

“I can sense so much anger in you, Mandalorian,” the Dark Lord was standing in front of him, Boba was still on the ground, panting.

“You’re glowing just like this star outside. Bubbling with rage.”

Boba glanced upwards at the Sith Lord. His artificial body was terrifying. It made Boba physically ill. He couldn’t picture how a human being can turn into something this horrifying. Just how much flesh was left of him? His robotic arms and legs could snap Boba in half without much effort. People say that Fett himself seemed like a droid sometimes, only because of his armour. But at the end of the day, Boba could take the beskar off and feel his skin, and he was grateful for that.

Vader stared at the T-Visor of Fett’s helmet as the Mandalorian slowly got up from the ground.

“You know nothing about me,” Boba spat. His rage was free and taking over. He was furious. It pained him just how much Vader had control over him.

“You’re a fool, Mandalorian.”

The Dark Lord’s hand twitched and Boba was hurled through the air, backwards against a wall. A loud clang echoed through the room when beskar hit the durasteel walls.

The air was knocked out of Boba’s lung. His armour’s backplate was digging into his spine, he wasn’t wearing his jetpack. His muscles were paralysed for a few seconds as he was pressed to the wall with such force, he thought his ribs would give out. The feelings of ice on his skin returned. Vader had him in his grip, again. He should’ve shut his mouth. Kriff.

Pain blossomed in his back and spread over his ribs to his chest. Boba cried out and struggled against the force holding him down.

Vader took a few steps in Fett’s direction. He wasn’t trying to hurt him badly, he wanted to teach him a lesson though. Failure wasn’t acceptable. And second chances were rare.

“You are an open book, Fett,” Vader let the Mandalorian slip down the wall. Just a little more…

Boba felt the pressure on his throat again. He panicked. What if Vader had enough of him? He tried to break free from the invisible grip but of course, that wasn’t possible. He never even had a chance to catch his breath now he’s being choked again. His vision turned to a blur immediately and he fell to the ground again.

The Sith watched the hunter struggle, pained little sounds were picked up by the vocoder in his helmet. Vader wanted to see just how far he could go. The fear he felt radiating from the bounty hunter pleased him so much he felt like he couldn’t stop.

“A lonely hunter who tried to fill the void in his chest by killing people. You just want to be like your father. His death pains you every day. You can only deal with this loss by keeping up his memory. Wearing his armour. How pathetic,” Vader knew what this man went through and he knew he could use it to make him his puppet.

“Boba Fett, the strong Mandalorian bounty hunter, only able to sleep when he is exhausted enough. Because if he lays awake at night, his thoughts run back to his past. To his father who brought him into his world as a son, though you are just a clone, Fett. Nothing more.”

Boba’s vision was black by now. He couldn’t feel his limbs anymore. The only thing he felt was the cold aura of ice on his skin and the strong grip around his throat. His lungs were flaring with pain and all his instincts to survive kicked in, again, stronger than before. He always thought dying was peaceful. But this was far from peaceful.

The Sith Lord’s words were like knives stabbing at his heart and he felt deep sadness rise up in him. He never talked about his father and what had happened to him. Vader was inside of his head, reading him like an open book. He poured salt in Boba’s open wounds and whipped him with every doubt at him that was making him the mess that he was. Vader continued:

“There’s no place for you to be, Boba Fett. No one to call a family. Aurra Sing acted as if she cared, and she left you too just as your father did. I understand her. You’re nothing but a lost and broken wreck. Why would anyone care.”

Boba tried to cry, to lash out or at least do something. But all he could do was lay on the floor and struggle. Kicking his feet, gripping his throat, pulling at his flight suits collar. He felt tears stinging in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t know where they came from. The choking or the miserable feeling that took over his chest. It was more than just a feeling. it was an ache. It stung his insides and outsides. All this life he tried to avoid it after his father Jango was murdered and now it came all crashing down. Boba had never felt like this before. Cold, he was so cold, alone, dying.

Darth Vader felt the aching sadness that took over his victim. He had reached his goal. He knew after this, Boba Fett will be a stronger man. Vader had gone through just the same. Loss and pain are what makes you stronger, stronger than everybody else. He felt unconquerable while he was inflicting this type of suffering on other people, this was what made him the Sith that everybody feared.

“Boba, I know how you are feeling. I can see what you went through. I can make you go through this again. Again and again,” Vader realised that if kept choking the hunter like this there wouldn't be much left of him, he was already only hanging by a threat. So he let go of him.

It took Boba a second to realize that Vader let go. On autopilot, his muscles worked and his lungs filled with oxygen. If Vader hadn’t talked to him, Boba would have thought he had already suffocated. He broke into a fit of coughing and gagging while also ringing for air. His face was wet with tears, but gladly, no one could see. He wasn’t able to control himself for a few seconds it all took over him. While still trying to get back the much-needed oxygen he choked on sobs as he tried to scramble away from the danger of Darth Vader. But his muscles didn’t listen to him. He always thought of himself as the hunter, but now he was prey. He was a victim. How pathetic must he look? Laying on the ground, crying, gagging, coughing, not being able to hold himself together. He felt humiliation, sadness, fear, all at once. Vader had brought it all to the surface with just a twitch of his hand. Maker, he was so weak.

“I hate you,” he choked out, his voice barely there, more a whisper due to his ragged windpipe.

“Me? I think you hate yourself more,” Vader felt amused by Fett’s struggle. Everything was going just as he expected it.

Fett slowly calmed down, at least his lungs weren’t screaming at him anymore, his head stopped spinning and his vision was more or less clear again. The stabbing feeling in his chest didn’t go away though and the pinpricks on his skin were still there. He was still cold and his cheeks were heavy with drying tears. Vader wasn’t wrong. Boba hated himself for the anger that was written in his every muscle. He was a broken wreck. Hatred was what defined him and he knew that this wasn’t what he was supposed to be, wanted to be. His father had been gentle. He had been caring and soft. Still a hunter but never burning with such rage. Maybe this was what was holding Boba back. He was blind with anger.

“Stand up, young man,” Vader ordered. Fett obeyed and got up on his wobbly feet, taking his rifle with him. He stood up to his full height and held the weapon close, just as he was when he entered the room. Though, his fingers trembled and his breathing was different. He had changed.

“Finish what you started. Show me, that you are the best, Boba Fett.”

Boba stood up straight. His body was still in pain but his mind had cleared. He reminded himself of who he was. The bruises on his back and neck will heal but this memory had carved itself in his brain. He was strong, stronger than his past, and stronger than the hatred that tried to reach him.

He bowed down to the Dark Lord.

“As you wish,” slowly, Boba Fett turned around and left the room. His steps were heavy and confident. He won’t mess up this time.

Vader watched the Mandalorian leave the room with a steady and powerful strut. Boba Fett reminded him of his past. He burnt with the same passion as he himself once did. He wants to be a good soldier, just like Anakin Skywalker once was. Vader turned to the raging lava ball outside of the star destroyer and bathed in the orange light that it radiated. Boba Fett was a product of the Clone Wars, a brother to all the soldiers that once stood next to Skywalker, and yet he was not. He was different.

#boba fett #star wars #boba fett x darth vader #mandalorian #darth vader #star wars fic #fanfiction #dont judge me lol #trigger warning

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pandoraborn · 3 years

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AMARANTH chapter one

(please ask if you want to be on the tag list!)

The area around them is in chaos. Death and destruction rain everywhere around the duo, houses collapsing, people screaming, people trying to run, only to be licked by out-of-control fires. An island village, burning to the ground, all the while the pair at the core of it just stand and watch. They wear dark clothing, and skulls to shield their faces. One, with a cape flapping in the fire-generated breeze, wears a deer skull. The other, wearing all black and covered in blodo, wears a moose skull. The skulls are both cracked and painted red, as if they were members of an occult coven, summoning the very king of hell himself.

It takes very little for the buildings to crumble to ash. The screams from the victims inside fade into nothingness, with the embers as the only source of light and sound now. The figures stand and watch, before turning away from the destruction.

The figure with the skull raises a fist, then jerks his arm to the side. The fire that surrounds them is snuffed out instantly. He then raises his other fist, conjuring up a portal. They step through, disappearing from the scene.

On the other side, they enter what looks like a dingy sewer. Concrete walls and dim, broken lighting make for home, sweet home, and the skulls are removed from their faces. One shakes his hair back as he hangs his skull on the wall. “I don’t want to do that again,” he says quietly, taking his cape off. “I don’t think destroying the entire village was necessary.”

“They were soft, Marvin.” The second figure takes his own skull off, tossing it to the side carelessly. He flops down on a single mattress on the ground, tucking his hands behind his head. “If even one is against us, then they’d all have turned against us. Don’t fall for their pity, I taught you better than that. Besides, it’s a remote island village, no one’s going to notice anything until days later.”

“That woman was pleading with me,” Marvin says as he sits down in the opposite corner. He presses his fingertips together, conjuring up a small amount of food for himself and Anti to split. “I could see the look in her eyes, she was scared.”

“They’re all scared of death. Are you going soft on me?” Anti turns his head to the side. “You’ve done so much, why does one woman scare you now?”

“She was holding her child in her arms.” Marvin shrugs as he tosses an apple in Anti’s direction. “There was something about the way she was looking at me. I don’t think I could face that again.”

“So, next time, close your eyes before you start a fire. This conversation bores me anyway.” Anti giggles as he catches the apple, taking a bite out of it. “I will have complete obedience from people, and I’m not afraid of killing them in order to get what I want.”

“I’m not so sure on that front anymore. This village hadn’t even done anything to us.” Marvin picks at the sandwich he’d conjured up, not certain he’s very hungry to begin with. “I think I might be tired.”

“They call you a demon, Marvin. You prance around with that skull on and cast spells that devastated the land. Why the fuck are you going soft on me now? You scare people.”

“No.” Marvin’s biting back a wave of irritation. “I just carry out your whims. I’ve never questioned your orders before, but you’re the one who demands death.”

“Are you questioning me now?” Anti sits up, narrowing his eyes in Marvin’s direction. “We’re supposed to be a team. I can’t have you straying from my side now.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t want to do that again. That village was filled with innocent people. Children, Anti, and I butchered them on your orders. So if you want complete honesty, I feel fucking lousy right now. Can I eat?”

“Fuck your food.” Anti chucks the apple in Marvin’s direction, snickering when it bounces off the magician’s shoulder. “If you’re so morally good now, then you should go off on your own. You wouldn’t last two days without me. You might as well be my puppet, for all the care I do for you.”

“I’m not your fucking puppet,” Marvin snaps. He crumbles his sandwich in his hands, ignoring the crumbs and bits of meat that fall to the floor. “I thought we were partners this whole time. You intimidate and threaten, I kill. How do I know I don’t have to watch your ass?”

Anti’s upon Marvin in a flash, gripping him by the throat and pinning him to the wall. Marvin recognizes the anger in Anti’s eyes, given by the way he’s glitching manically. “You wouldn’t last two days without me, Marvin. Dont’ forget, I’m the one who taught you everything you know. All your magic, all your skills, I’m the one who created you. I turned you into my weapon, so yes, you are my fucking puppet, and I’m telling you: don’t go god damned soft on me, understand?”

Marvin holds still, silently counting to five. Unlike Anti, he can control his temper, and it shows when he presses his hand to Anti’s chest, impaling him with shards of ice to get him to back off. Marvin knows it won’t kill Anti, but he’s expecting the pain. “I’m not your puppet,” Marvin repeats.

With Anti no longer pinning him down, Marvin gets to his feet, stepping sideways away from the shrieking demon on the floor. Anti’s writhing in pain, kicking and thrashing as if that would get the ice out of him. “You shouldn’t have helped me hone my magic, Anti, because I can just as easily use it against you as I do Jane down the street.”

He opens a portal, not sure where he’s planning on going next. Anywhere outside of this stupid location where they have to conjure scraps for food.

“Are you leaving, Marvin?” Anti wheezes. He tries to grab at Marvin’s ankle, but misses. His loud shriek has Marvin pressing his hands to his ears and grimacing at the shrill noise, but he says nothing until he’s got one foot through the portal.

“I’ll make it without you, asshole,” Marvin snarls. “If you try to follow me, I’ll just kill you. No one calls me a demon for nothing, and you’re not exempt.”

“I’ll kill you!” Anti shrieks, trying to get up. “I’ll destroy you! No one turns their back on me! NO ONE!”

Marvin steps through, instantly closing it behind him. He gazes at the area around him, finding himself next to what looks like a small shopping center. By the looks of it, he seems to be in England somewhere.

Why England?

It doesn’t matter. He presses his back against the wall and breathes heavily, covering his face with his hands. He’s strong, he’s powerful, and Marvin knows he can be a threat to anyone he meets. He doesn’t need anyone to stand with. He especially doesn’t need some control freak telling him what to do or dangle him like a puppet on a string.

And yet- he feels so lost.

#new fic: amaranth #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #morally!grey marvin #writersofjack #jacksepticeye #fanfic #septic egos #septic ego fanfiction #alternate timeline #alternate history #marvin and anti used to be close #long post #miishae writes

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alternatewarning · 4 years

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All The Kings Horses Chapter 2 - Whumptober 2020 Fic

Entry Number 14 and 19 for Whumptober 2020: Branding/Fire and Grief/Mourning Loved One

Title: All The Kings Horses Chapter 2 Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairing: Gladio/Prompto, Ignis/Noctis Rating: M Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death, Burning Alive, Branding, Racism/Fantasy Racism Summary: Everyone handles grief differently. As he, Noctis, and Ignis recover from the shock of Gladio's death, Prompto leaves to spend some time alone. However, some citizens of Insomnia are none-too-friendly to outsiders.

Cross posted on Ao3

Prompto and Noctis were both released from the hospital with nothing more than scrapes and bruises. However, the doctors could do nothing for broken hearts. Ignis had taken them both back to Noctis’s apartment in an oppressive silence; Noctis in the back, watching his breath appear on the glass of the window, Prompto in the front, unfocused eyes letting the city lights dance across his freckles. The empty seat in the back felt heavy on all of them, a painful reminder of what once had been.

For the next few days, Ignis did his best to care for the bleeding hearts, at the very least taking care of their bodies. While he had seen Noctis morose more times that he wanted to admit, seeing Prompto curled up on the side of the couch, his eyes rimmed red from crying was a spear to the heart. He looked like a pale doll, broken and soulless, nothing more than a fading phantom.

“It’s getting late, I think I’m gonna go home.” Noctis looked up from where he had been watching the television with a dazed expression as Prompto spoke. It was the first time since that night that his voice didn’t carry a sob.

“You don’t have to! Stay here.” The prince shifted on the couch as he spoke, getting onto his knees as he reached out to wrap his hand into the fabric of the blanket Ignis had thrown over Prompto a few hours prior.

“I know I can stay. But I kind of want some time alone. Don’t worry.” Prompto smiled even though the pain was still clear across his face. “If I get lonely or something I’ll call for Iggy to pick me up. I’ll see you tomorrow though?”

“Ya, sure, I guess.” The young prince sighed, slowly letting go of the blanket as the blond untangled himself. There was a little more of his spirit than there had been before, a little more sunshine seeping through.

“Would you like me to drop you off at home?” Ignis walked toward the front of the apartment, reaching out for the car keys hanging from a hook to the right of the apartment door.

“Ah, no it’s okay. I want to walk. It’s not too chilly outside so I’ll be fine, really. I just gotta think, ya know?” He patted Ignis on the shoulder with a bit of a skip in his step as he grabbed his bag from beside the door and let himself out. Tension hung heavy in the air as Noctis stared at the now-closed door.

“Everyone mourns in different ways, Noct.” Ignis spoke quietly, as if his voice would shatter something. He locked the apartment door before coming over and sitting in the empty chair across the living room. Prompto’s empty seat felt almost sacred, for now.

“We were almost always together, I’m sure the two of us are just a reminder. Give him some time. Prompto feels everything very deeply.” Noctis huffed in response, which was as good of an affirmative as Ignis was going to get. It was clear that the prince was a rage of emotions right now: fear, hurt, grieving, and loneliness. He had lost not just a bodyguard, but an older brother of sorts, a friend. Ignis had tried to get him to talk about it but so far all he’d gotten were bouts of silence or tearful ‘I don’t want to talk about it’s.

“Fine. I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up in the morning.” The retainer just nodded in silence, watching the boy go into his bedroom, a blanket trailing behind him. More than anything Ignis wanted to hold him close, tell him it would be okay, heal his wounds. But he knew better than to lie.

_________

It was a little colder outside than Prompto anticipated, but he didn’t mind. The chill of the wind against his face reminded him that he was still alive even if he didn’t feel that way. He didn’t really want to walk home just yet because he knew the house would be empty and lonely and he had enough loneliness to last him for the next few weeks. Instead he just started to walk in any direction, letting his feet carry him through the streets of Insomnia.

As he walked, he pulled his camera from his bag, almost on instinct. The thought of looking through pictures from before made his stomach tie itself in knots and lodge in his throat. But at the same time, he ached to force the memory out of his head, the memory that kept replaying over and over like a broken record unable to skip past the chorus. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was that, was Gladio’s broken body shattered on the ground. The blood and the pieces of brain and skull pooling out. The memory made him want to vomit but he just locked his jaw, refusing to give in.

He needed to wash the bitter aftertaste out of his brain. The blond wandered until he found a bench and sat down, dropping his bag at his feet. As much as it would hurt, and he knew it would, he needed something, anything to remember. To remember the man who saw him, who was kind to him even if he had no reason to be. Prompto was nothing, just a pathetic commoner who was more of a mess than any of his friends. And while Noct was his best friend, one of his only friends, Gladio was different. If Noctis was his prince charming, then Gladio was his knight in shining armor. And he had always had a thing for knights.

The camera clicked on with a mechanical clack, the screen lighting to life. In the setting sun, the glare from the display hurt his eyes so he blinked a few times, waiting for them to adjust. Slowly, his thumb tapped over the backwards arrow, pulling up the last picture he took. It was from only a few days ago and yet it felt like a century. The four of them had been visiting a new little cafe that had just opened and the giant coeurl stature in the front had just looked so regal. The first picture was just the statue, the white cat looking up into the cloudless sky. But the very next one was Gladio pretending to punch the statue in the face. Prompto couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, even as his eyes filled with tears.

He continued to cycle through his pictures, stopping on any of them with the Shield. He was always so big, so strong. He looked like nothing would ever stop him. Nothing could stop him. Until it did.

“Hey! Blondie! This ain't your turf, go home!” Prompto wasn’t intentionally ignoring the voices, he was just too wrapped up in his memories to notice the insults. His blue eyes blinked, confused, as a small rock hit him in the face. There was a group of six people standing a few feet away. Everything about them screamed that they were the ‘wrong crowd’ that everyone was told to avoid a child. The one in front picked up another rock and threw it, causing Prompto to yelp as it smacked him in the head.

“Hey, hey! Okay, okay I’m going, jeeze.” He wasn’t sure what ‘turf’ he’d stepped into but clearly he wasn’t wanted. He grabbed his bag from the floor, setting it on the bench so he could safely pack away his camera. It was all he had left, after all.

“We don’t want you Nifs here!” The blond froze mid-motion, as if he was trapped in time. How?! No one, and he meant no one, should have known that he was from Niflheim. His throat felt dry and his bones frozen but he forced himself to keep putting his stuff away. He stood up stiffly, as if he was a puppet with knotted strings.

“Look I don’t want to get into a fight with you. I’m just going to be on my way, okay?” He held up his hands in front of his body, a show of surrender. Slowly Prompto started to back away from the angry pack as the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise. They were watching him but more than that, they were moving towards him.

“You’re the little blond who’s always swooning over the prince, aren’t you?” The man who had thrown the rocks seemed to be the group’s leader as they all followed behind him like a pack of wild dogs.

“Excuse me, I was not swooning. We’re friends, that’s all.” The photographer huffed with a little more indignation than he should have. It only seemed to anger them more.

“So what are you, a spy? An assassin? Doesn’t matter, we won’t take this lying down. Go back home, Nif!” He threw another rock, larger this time, and Prompto just managed to stumble out of the way. Gladio’s training was coming in handy, even if he was still a little too startled to really put it to good use.

“Look, I’m going! To my house, here in Insomnia, where I live!” He turned on his heel, intending to book it down the path and into a more populated area. But just as he started to run he realized that his backpack wasn’t on his back. It was still on the bench. Normally he would just leave it and run, but that backpack had his camera. And that camera had his last pictures of Gladio. He couldn’t let it go.

The gunman bit down on his lip as he suddenly swerved, running back towards his abandoned bag. He should have just left it, just run, just escaped. But he couldn’t. Those pictures, those memories, he needed them. He couldn’t let go of the few things that he had left. Just as he reached the bag, the mob reached him. He didn’t even have time to register exactly what was happening before he was thrown to the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him and knock the bag from his hands.

“You don’t belong here!” “No one wants you here!” “Fucking scum!”

The words started to blend together as all six of them started to yell and scream. Prompto just curled as tight as he could, protecting his face with his arms and his neck with his hands. Just like Gladio had shown him. Eventually they would get tired of punching him, kicking him, spitting on him, and they would just go away. He wasn’t sure what the Empire did this time to build up such a rage but right now he didn’t care. He just wanted to live through this and go home. Or maybe back to Noct’s house. It would hurt to be with them again but at least it was safe.

One of the group, Prompto had squeezed his eyes shut so he didn’t know which one, had grabbed his hair and was starting to pull. But not just the ‘pulling on his hair because it hurt’ way but the ‘dragging by the hair’ sort of way. Even as he was being unceremoniously dragged through the street by a small mob they kept attacking him, a boot to his face so hard his lip was bleeding, a kick to his gut that made a sickening crack.

“Let me go! I didn’t do anything wrong! Noct’s my friend, I’d never do anything to hurt him, please! Please someone help, help!” Now it was clear they were not going to just ‘move on’. This wasn’t the type of anger where people got in a few good hits, felt like they had the last laugh and then just left. This was the type of anger that had been burning for years and years and wasn’t going to be put out by a young man screaming for mercy.

Prompto kicked and wiggled, trying to pull free of the white-knucked grasp of his hair. His back was starting to burn from being dragged across the cement, a hole already torn open in his shirt. He grabbed the arms holding his hair and tried to claw and pull, anything to get away.

“Don’t do this, please don’t kill me! Really we’re just friends, we went to school together! You can ask him! I’m not a spy, I grew up in Luc-” He didn’t finish his plea as one of the group shoved some sort of cloth in his mouth. He shoved it in so deep that Prompto started to gag, now focused on freeing his throat over escape. Once the gunman pulled out the rag the grasp on his hair dropped, letting his body thud into the harsh gravel. He knew it was his only time to escape.

The blond relied on all the training that Gladio had given to him. He rolled onto his side, keeping low to the ground, and tried to launch into the space between two of the attackers. It worked and he burst free of their circle. For a short moment he felt freedom, the panic pushing his legs to run even as the skin on his left leg was torn open from cement and gravel. In a flash his freedom was taken away with the clang of metal and a shock of pain in the back of his head before his body fell to the ground with as much force as he had used to try and escape. The leader now stood over him, a metal pipe in his hand.

“You’ve killed so many, broken up families, made us hide away behind the Wall. Now it's your turn to be afraid.” Prompto wanted to say something back, to tell him he had it all wrong, but instead everything just faded to black.

The sensation that forced Prompto awake was nothing but pain. A searing, burning pain that tore a scream from his throat even before his consciousness had fully kicked back into gear. His blue eyes snapped open as he tried to twist, pull away, kick, fight, anything. But every twitch, every turn, resulted in nothing. His senses kicked back into gear all at once in a moment of panic. He couldn’t pull away because he couldn’t move, his hands were tied behind hid back so tightly that he couldn’t really feel his fingers. But they weren’t just behind his back, something, a pole or a plank or something, was digging into his shoulder blades and his arms were trapped behind him, the structure in between. His feet were also tied in place with the same sturdy cord, wrapping him to the rod with so little movement that he was sure his feet were going to lose circulation, and soon.

“What are you doing, let me go! Please!” Now acutely aware of how dangerous a situation he was in, his mind was just starting to catch up. He wasn’t in the same place that he had been when he’d been knocked out, now he was surrounded by dirt, sand and ruin. Outside the Wall--there was a small flame flickering in front of him, but not from a magical haven. Just a mound of sticks and dried grass. Something was sticking out of the fire, long, the tip blazing orange. Pieces started to fall into place in his mind. The same six from before were watching him, a sick pleasure across their faces. They were confident that they were cleansing their city of something that shouldn't exist.

The leader grabbed the long handle from the fire and lifted it up. Prompto hissed, realizing that his first thought had been right. The end of the metal stick was twisted into an “L” shape, leaving the tip flat instead of brunt, a molten hot line perfect for branding skin. Slowly the blond looked down, his panic overriding any sense of pain. His shirt had been ripped open, his pale skin now a mural of purple and red, faint bootprints clearly visible. But there was also one vertical long black burn across his chest just about the size of the bar. As the man stepped closer he just closed his eyes and tried to set his jaw.

Even knowing what was coming, Prompto couldn’t help but scream. The red-hot metal pressed against his chest, hissing loudly he tried to thrash away from it. Once the metal started to fade back to black the man pulled it from his chest, the metal nearly tearing the skin that it had melted too. Now the former line was joined by another, starting at the top of the previous bearn and running in a diagonal to the right.

With a haggard scream, the blond let himself sag, trapped in place by the cords around his wrists, feet and under his arms. By his count there were 5 more burns coming. As if on cue, the leader came back, pressing the metal into his skin for a third time, completing the first letter in blacked, charred skin. N.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” Prompto choked out between sobs that were slowly swallowing his screams of pain. “I didn’t do anything to you, I never hurt anybody! Please stop, please!” The fourth round of branding was placed right against his sternum, pressing not only the molten metal into his skin, but forcing his back into the board behind him, an “I” now branded to his skin. All six seemed to be taking a sick delight in his pain, looking among each other with pride instead of disgust. As the iron was pulled away from his skin he let out a heavy groan.

“Noctis! Noctis save me, please! Noct!” He screamed and thrashed, torn between closing his eyes and watching the iron heat up so he would be prepared. “Iggy! Please, save me! Help!” His screeching bounced around the abandoned ruins, fading into nothing but a voiceless echo as it traveled out of the valley.

“Someone, anyone help me! Gladio!” The boy’s voice was starting to go hoarse as he screamed, the metal pressing into him again until all Prompto could smell was burnt flesh. No matter how much he screamed, no one was coming to save him.

_______________

Ignis watched the sleeping prince, his heart torn in two. Did he wake up Noctis to the horrible news, or let him stay in a peaceful dream. His green eyes slowly dropped to the newspaper in his hands. The headline was bold across the front page, dotted with pictures so grotesque they were pixelated for distribution. But if anyone was interested the full pictures, in bright and living color, were easily found online.

The retainer slowly sat on the edge of the bed, reading over the article again as if he could force the words to change.

“Niflheim Spy? Charred body found outside the wall, NIF branded into his chest!” It read like some sensationalist tabloid. The journalist clearly didn’t care about the remains that once belonged to a soft and sensitive boy. Even though the body had been burned at the stake like some sort of historic criminal, there was enough left that one glance at the picture and he knew. Even with the picture pixeled out to hide the worst of it, Ignis knew those freckles, that form, those clothes. All he could do was pray that the boy had died quickly even though his logical mind knew that he likely suffered through almost all of it before either dying or passing out.

He couldn’t bear to awaken Noctis, not for this. He folded the paper in half, placing it on his knees as he leaned forward, the weight suffocating him. They had only been apart for an evening and yet now the prince would wake to a world without his best friend. Without the spirit and smile that could drag even Noctis out of the depths of his own sadness.

Yes, he was going to let the prince sleep a little bit longer. Hopefully it was peaceful in his dreams.

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ortegatrash · 5 years

Text

FH fic - Euthanasia

Name: Léon Bellandini | Puppet: Simba | Villain name: Pride Daring/arrogant/fighter/lots of contacts/gang leader.

Trigger warnings: Elaborate descriptions of death, graphic violence, disassociation/derealisation, PTSD flashbacks, memory problems, mentions of past abuse and dealing with the aftermath.

The world of heroes and villains is not a nice one. It’s messy and painful and complicated. Sometimes innocent people get hurt. Sometimes people die.

Léon has blood on his hands and can’t always remember why. Dark.

A mind flickering in the distance, like a dying candle.

Pain, fear, so scared what's happening? This can't be happening to me it's not real

You don't even flinch. Death is routine to you by now. There are only so ways to die and only so many reactions to it and it blurs into one big mess of emotions after a while. Shields help, but the thing is you've just seen so much of it you've mostly just become...well, used to it.

I'm too young this isn't how I wanted to go I'm too young to die!

It's always distasteful when civilians get involved. You try to keep them out of things, but... the honest truth is that collateral damage happens. The underworld is not a kind place and people end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. People who dip their feet into your world know what they're signing up for, know that death can come at any moment. You've signed your lives away to it and once you enter the darkness the only way you truly leave its depths is through a body bag.

There's a certain resigned acceptance that comes with that. People still aren't happy, but it's not the same as the complete shock that innocents get when they realise they're just as mortal and as fallible as everyone else.

Normal thugs you can go easy on. It takes too much effort to bother to make it painless for every single one that falls in the row of faceless masses, but you at least take pride in being a professional. It's just business, nothing personal, no need to make a mess of things. You despise getting blood on your suits; your dry cleaner is discreet and reliable but you'd rather not make a habit of ruining them often enough he begins to think you're completely incompetent at this whole thing.

Now people who have wronged you, that’s another story. The guilty and the corrupt. The so-called heroes. People who indulge in this cruel game of society built on the blood of those underneath them…

Despicable.

It's them you have a personal vendetta against. Let them feel everything they've done to you, let them suffer as you did. Their pain won't do much to ease your need to destroy them, it won't satisfy the void in your heart or make the scars you have disappear.

But their screaming is so, so sweet.

You're certainly not an angel but you would never give someone the disservice of pretending they weren't people too. That they didn't have their own lives and dreams and hopes that dissolve once and for all at your own hand. You've had your own personhood denied and you won't be so heartless as to deny that small acknowledgement to others.

You won't ever be like Them.

That's why you do this. Maybe these people are going to die alone drowning in their own blood and their only witness to their end an enemy who's going to crush their face into the concrete and enjoy it. That doesn't mean you won't take a moment to reminisce over their last moments, to witness the flame of their mind go out and never come back.

The dead can't hurt you any more. They can't.

What have you done, Léon? You're better than this.

...Stop it, Anathema.

...You shake your head. You shouldn't get caught up in your thoughts, you tend to go blank and lose your train of thought.

There are a lot of ways people deal with death. Most tend to go through the stages of grief - not always in order, not always all of them. But there are patterns.

This can’t be real whose legs are those? why are they pointing the wrong way why are they attached to me that’s so horrible

Denial. She didn’t think anything was going to happen today. She thought bad things only happened to someone else, not people like her.

Help me it hurts it hurts please someone help me how could they do this to me! This isn't fair I'm not ready I'm not ready I wanted to kiss him I wanted to tell him I liked him I've never even had my first kiss this is not fair!

Anger. She's just a kid, her sweet 16th is supposed to be next week and now her world has fallen down around her, crushed her underneath its weight. She just wanted to take a shortcut through the alley after school. Her parents don't know she's here, she lied and said she was going to study at the library to sneak to a boy's house. They've been sending sweet messages in class but she got her phone confiscated because of it and couldn't call 911 and now it's too late.

Please, anyone! Anyone...can you hear me? Please save me I promise I'll be good I have so many things I wanted to do so many regrets, I'll reform myself just please

Bargaining. There is so much she wanted to do, so much she dreamt about. She wanted to be a nurse, she wanted to help people and join a charity because she's seen the way people are turned away from hospitals because they can't afford it. That's how her little brother died and the hole in her family never quite healed. The empty chair at the dinner table is going to have one right next to it soon and this is going to crush her parents. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children.

Someone- Who's there? An answer to desperate prayers? A gleam of gold, a red flutter in the wind who is that? Fear, adrenaline - villain come to finish me off?- So so much blood why is it outside of me that's not right...I'm not going to make it, I have so many regrets I want to cry

Depression. She told her parents she hated them, of course she didn't mean it. It was just anger, she was just frustrated at failing biology and the threats of repeating a grade and being left behind and she hasn't even done anything with her life before it's already ending. They won't know what happened here until the knock on the door, the officer in blue. She's so sorry she loves them she wishes she could tell them that but it's too late too late too late.

You are not cruel, despite what people say. You save it for the people who have wronged you and this, this child is just an unfortunate victim. Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, after all. You hadn't planned for this but you're not some sort of barbarian. No needless suffering for people who don't deserve it.

She's too weak to resist, too weak to even lift her head up. There's a procedure for animals that are too badly injured to make it, you make their last moments comfortable and their deaths painless.

Idly, you wonder why humans never get that mercy. It seems backwards to you to let humans suffer when supposed 'lesser' animals were given relief.

Maybe it's fitting. Humans can be such bastards capable of so much cruelty that perhaps they should suffer. Not this one though. She’s just a little lost duckling who got got smashed up against the rocks of life.

It doesn't take much tweaking usually; a quick in and out of their minds, cutting the pain off and letting their brains either go dark or grabbing their last thoughts and twisting them into whatever greeting they expect to come after death. A light, an soft white wings beating, the voices of loved ones long gone greeting them with open arms and promising reunion. Usually something typical like that. That's for the ones you bother being nice to, if you have the luxury and time of being merciful.

Sometimes all you have time for is a quick twist of the neck or bullet through the brain before you need to move on. There's no use wasting energy using your nanovores on ordinary people and besides, they don't cut through flesh quite so neatly. They shouldn't, at least, you've made many, many precautions to keep them neutered, you don't ever want to see them disintegrate flesh-

-Anathema's eyes; so shocked, flesh melting peeling. The smell of flesh bubbling up and frying.

You can't- you can't deal with burning meat anymore, you pretend you're vegetarian because you're on a diet and maybe it surprises your team because they’ve seen you murder in cold blood before but it's because you can't deal with the consequences with cooking and accidentally leaving the heat on too long-

-No. No, you have a job to do, you don't have time for this again.

She looks so small at your feet all curled up, her body unconsciously trying to protect herself by going into a fetal position. You tut and ready yourself to dive in. Honestly, you expected better of a hero. He may not have intended this but he should follow through once he’s done instead of leaving her to suffer. He should have finished the job.

Time to put her out of her misery.

Her mind is panicking, she's dying and putting all her energy in trying to do something about it. That means it all redirects onto you, the intruder seeing her at her most vulnerable. Not that she can actually hurt you, she's just lashing out. Her hits might as well be a child’s play ball she's hurling at you for all the impact it makes on you.

You wrap yourself in her mother's embrace like a veil, soft tones and lullabies and kisses on the cheek. Memories of comforting words, stroking her hair like she’s little again and having nightmares; she doesn’t want to be alone. Her father's crackly stubble as he hugs her close, bright golden sunlight as they play backyard baseball and a sticky little brother with golden curls and a dimpled smile, the smell of warm milk on baby breath.

"Mama," she sobs, trembling as she buries her head in your chest. "Mama, it hurts, it hurts so bad."

"Shh, it's okay, baby. It's okay. Do you want me to take the hurt away?" You feel almost bored, dutifully acting out the behaviours you see dancing through her memories. When did you become this cold to normal people? Sure, you don’t really care about her…but.

Once upon a time you used to be able to feel a little bit bad about people outside your circle. Now there is only You and Your people and Other and you’re not sure when you stopped giving a damn about anyone who wasn’t yours.

"Yes, please please please! Make it stop, make it stop!" She can’t take much more of this before, she’s never felt such pain before.

"Yes dear," you soothe. "It will all be over soon."

Disguising yourself in memories is good, it makes her willing. She trusts you now and you don't feel any qualms about manipulating her at all because this is the only kindness you can grant her. The thread you want is frayed and almost unravelling, it takes only a moment to materialise a pair of scissors and snip away the excess. Can't feel pain if your pain receptors are cut off from the mind, after all.

She settles down now, snuggling into your arms as the small child she feels like again. Things are becoming disjointed, her mind is beginning to dissolve around you both.

Shit. You're running out of time.

"I love you," you lie with her mother’s warm voice, because people would rather hear sweet lies over cold, cold truth.

She sniffles into your sleeve and urgh, all you can do is to keep from recoiling from the mental snot on your arm. Now is not the time for your own distaste to be acting up, now you have to be strong to honour this girl's life and death.

"Mama, please,” she begs. “I don't want to die."

It's time.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay," you tell her, infusing your voice with milk and honey and warm sleepy summer days. You can feel her relax, beginning to drift away in your arms. "You go on ahead and take care of your little brother for us, okay?"

"...Okay." She sniffs, letting go. "Okay."

…Acceptance.

Time to go. You're just about to head out through the fading frame of her childhood bedroom door before you feel a tug on your sleeve.

When you glance behind she's still there. She’s still there and she’s looking at you with a strangely knowing look in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers. "You didn't have to do that."

-And then you're ejected from her mind with a thud as the fragments begin to burn up and drift away in the wind.

You think you smell burning toast. Wha- What was that?

Did she… no matter. You need to finish this quickly before what’s left of her starts to get uncertain and confused again.

Silver metal, cold under her chin. A deep inhale as you plug one ear with a finger, your other hand cocked and ready.

The ringing in your ear resounds through your head, your arm shaking from the recoil.

...There. She's gone.

What a sight you must be, your beautiful golden armour now thoughtfully decorated in still-warm blood. It's messier than you would have liked, but that's life.

Are you proud of yourself?

You're not sure if you can answer that, truthfully, and that infuriates you. You were supposed to steadfast, you are supposed to be Pride, you are not supposed to doubt or question if you're doing the right thing.

No!

You don't regret doing this, this was a kindness, this was mercy, you are not a barbarian that would let animals suffer needlessly.

Isn't it your fault that this happened to begin with? Who are you trying to convince, the world or yourself?

Shut up, Anathema. You're dead. Ghosts can't talk.

Blinking, you shake your head. What…

What was it you were doing again?

He gurgles as the blood fills his mouth, spills over onto your arms while you crush his neck. The whites of his eyes spasm in their sockets as pierce through the fragile flesh of his throat, you don't know your own strength anymore.

Good.

The world is cruel and you've just had to adapt to survive. Now it will be you at the top sitting on the throne, now it will be you forcing them to bow at your feet and acknowledging them.

Now one will ever be able to hurt you again.

This is wrong. This is so wrong, Léon.

Fingers dance loosely trying to pry you away and weak as a newborn kitten. He's not getting away that easily, you want him to suffer for what he's done; for what all the heroes have done to you, for what the world has done to you.

Stop. Stop. You're torturing him.

Maybe if he didn't want to die he should have been more careful, you sneer. Heroes were no different than you so-called villains. The only difference was that you've accepted the truth: that you are just as bad as the rest of them. They still have delusions about the concept of 'good' and 'justice'.

STOP IT

They don't know the truth. You are all pawns to be sacrificed at their amusement and you refuse to play their game when it’s rigged against you.

No. Now you will be the one in control. There's no one who can stand in your way, there are no voices-

S T O P I T

-There is no such thing as justice given to people like you, so you are going to take what you need by force. That's why people like him need to suffer, that's why they will have no choice but to pay attention to you, you need to break, break, break him just like they broke you-

THAT.

IS.

E N O U G H!

...What?

Nothing works. You can't move, it's like something has come over you, all your muscles feel like they have frozen in place.

What. Have. You. Done?

...Go away, Anathema.

WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE?

Please. Please just go away.

...What was that just now. Did your mind just blank out for a second?

You drop the man to the ground, too shaken to hold on. Distantly, you become aware of the fact that you're reaching for your gun. Your hand is guiding the gun to his forehead, your finger almost moving of its own accord as you fire again and again

and again and again you need to make sure you need to make sure

And

And your heart is racing and breaking all over again and and and-

And end this.

You want to end...you.

Yes.

You don't have to do this anymore. You can finally rest. It feels like sweet, sweet relief-

-Your ears are ringing, someone is coming for you.

"Someone get the boss!"

"On it!"

"He's not responding, I think he's hyperventilating again-"

Need to go. Goodbye, Ortega. Goodbye, everyone

-Someone is grabbing you and you are shaking, you're not supposed to do that. You need to you need to..

..to..

You need to go, you need to MOVE

"Someone help restrain him! He's too strong!"

"Boss, boss, it's okay! You're safe, there aren't any more enemies, they're all dead!"-

Glass in your skin, it hurts it hurts the pain feels like relief and you shatter all over again and again and again

-Screaming, primal and terrifying in its distortion. Is that your voice? Your throat hurts. You don't care you can't care, you can't hear properly right now

And the birds have taken flight and your team are cowering and covering their ears and you can't you can't youcan'tYOUCAN'T-

Léon.

…

Oh, Léon.

...Leave me alone.

You need to stop doing this.

Please leave me alone.

...Why won't you just. Leave. Me. ALONE?

Stop doing this. Stop lashing out like this, stop hurting people. Léon? Don't ignore me.

Léon?

"-Boss? Are you back with us?"

Worried looks. You resent it, you resent falling apart in front of your Family. You are supposed to be strong. If you show weakness, they will start to doubt. You need to be good enough, you need to be perfect or they will lose confidence in you and you refuse to have that.

That's why you just give a curt nod. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You don’t seem fine, that looked really intense-"

Your body is moving and your mind is along for the ride. "I. AM. FINE!"

Footsteps backwards, you were too much. Regret is apparently the emotion of the day because you're flooded with a whole heap of it. You don't mean to yell. You didn't mean to get angry at their concern. This is so messed up.

If they lose confidence in you, they might leave.

And you can't. You can't let your Family leave. They are all you have, they are yours. You hate that you're what The Farm made you sometimes, that this is your reflexive reaction to anything and everything.

You just…

Why couldn't you be normal and show them you love them the normal way? You want to hold them close and yet you're so afraid of closeness that you just push them away again.

They're still just waiting. Waiting for an explanation. Maybe an apology that will never come - because you are Pride and you are all too proud to ever willingly admit weakness, admit that you messed up, that you were wrong.

...Nothing important happened today, everything went according to plan.

You ignore the looks your team are giving you, walking past and slipping a handkerchief out of a hidden compartment in your armour. Where did all this blood even come from? Urgh, you hate getting dirty.

You are not haunted by blank spots in your memory. You are not going crazy and you are not ever going to question if you're on the wrong path.

Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it will become real.

You're already falling into the darkness, there's no stopping your course now. Like a circus performer walking the tightrope, you have to keep walking. You can't sway. If you question or hesitate you are only going to lose your balance and end up plummeting into the depths below.

You can't look down, you mustn't turn your head. Eyes forward; focus on the goal.

Léon.

So what if your hands are painted red?

So what if the hero hadn't meant to kill her, that he'd been a bit too overenthusiastic with his crushing abilities and didn't take into account that the wall he took down was a load-bearing one?

So fucking what. People die.

Get over it.

You can't escape what you've done, you know.

Please.

Why do you keep hurting people? Why do you keep hurting yourself?

Don't. Don't. Don't.

Silence. The faintest whisper, the creeping feeling of unseeing blank eyes that cast judgement and you are not cowering under them because you do not cower, you will not cower any more, you are strong you won't be a victim you will not apologise for what you are-

Why are you even doing this?

-You will never apologise for what you are. You are proud of it. You are Pride and that same pride would never admit allow you even consider being wrong.

Oh, Léon.

...You have absolutely no idea why, but you feel like crying.

#fallen hero #fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero retribution #fh:rebirth #fanfic #fic #dark fic #no seriously #read the warnings #sidestep #mobboss!sidestep #OC sidestep #Pride (OC)#Léon Bellandini (OC)#conflicted feelings #angsty drama #mental issues

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ben-j-man · 5 years

Text

Secret War chapter 25

Link to chapter 1- http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/180097372453/secret-war-chapter-1

Sickening, unnatural blue light coveted the surroundings, and even still Etuarq laughed.

As quick as a cat Darrance darted back, for all the good it'd do.

I closed my eyes, that was all I could do. I was too exhausted, too exhausted even to move my pinkie finger, but this it wasn't just exhaustion, no. It was more than that it was as though my very soul was drained, Faleaseen's shield, it must've done this to me. That on top of my actual fatigue, all those hours, all this time, pushing myself to my very limits. Fighting.

But now it was all for nothing; we were dead, defeated, no destroyed, completely and utterly. Inquisitor Etuarq had won, and he was right. I was nothing, nothing but a pawn. A pawn who'd passed his use by date.

A pawn who deserved to die, I felt the overwhelming heat in my face.

"Karmen! Now!" I heard Brutis roar, and as fast as it expanded, the horrifying heat began to go away.

+What!?+ roared Etuarq, his voice shrill with surprise.

Despite myself, my eyes snapped open, and I gasped at what I saw.

I was right, the blue globe of fire had retracted, writhing and raging against some invisible force.

I felt the heavy footfalls approach and saw Brutis walk past, his hands raised forward.

Brutis grinned over his huge shoulder at me.

"Heh! Sorry! Forgot to tell you that I was a psyker to!" he said.

My eyes widened.

+And I apologise, Attelus. I lied! Came Karmen's voice. +I hadn't actually used all my power!+

+NO!+ roared Etuarq. +Why didn't I foresee this! Why! Won't! You! Just! Die!+

Brutis' attention snapped back to the explosion.

"Did you think us stupid?" he snarled. "Did you think we didn't see this for the blatant trap it was? I don't care who you are, nor how powerful you are! You will not win, you will be found, and you will pay for your crimes! I am a servant of the God-Emperor of Mankind; I am a weapon of His will! And everyone here! Everyone who've fought tooth and nail to get this far, they are as well! Every one of them has earned my respect and trust and His too I trust! Even 'little Attelus,!' And I swear, I will not stand back and let any more of them die! The Emperor's will is with us!"

Etuarq's reply was just more shrill, insane laughter.

+Attelus,+ said Karmen. +It doesn't matter the why or how you were born; it doesn't matter what this Etuarq claims. You are nobodies puppet! You are you! Nothing will change that! Nothing! You are one of the strongest, most amazing people I've ever met! You survived in the ruins of Varander, you survived against the Arco Flagellant and saved those people! If you can survive that you can survive anything! Keep going! Keep fighting! I know you have the strength! I know it!+

I smiled and slowly began to climb to my feet.

"Thank you for the great, amazing, awe-inspiring speech, Karmen," I said. "You could compete with Brutis' in that department, but I didn't need it!"

Brutis grinned at me, "Attelus! Anything you want to say before we send this scum back whence he came?"

I threw back my head and bellowed out a loud laugh, so loud that Etuarq stopped his, this despite my sore, raw throat. "Yeah! Hell yeah! I'd like to thank you, you son of a bitch! For so long I've struggled for a purpose in life! Something to truly fight for! And finally, you've given it to me! I'm gonna hunt you down, and I'm gonna stop you! Once and for all, even if it's the last thing I do! But before that, I'll stop this Exterminatus! Screw you and screw your fate! I'll do it for Elandria, for Castella and most of all, for me!"

Brutis laughed, "you could've been a little less cliche, you know? But I'll give you points for the spirit! Karmen!"

I frowned, and who was he to accuse me of being cliche? Bit of a double standard, I'd say.

+Got you!+

No longer could I keep my feet and I collapsed to my knees as together they roared and the explosion shrunk and shrunk. Still writhing and rumbling and struggling.

Then, two people appeared on my flanks and helped me on my feet, laying my arms across their shoulders, and I was shocked to see it was Verenth and Selg.

"Yeah! Up ya get," said Verenth and we watched as the explosion slowly faded into nothingness.

+You've done well my little puppets,+ said Etuarq; his voice was fading with the light. +But it makes no difference you will die with Omnartus now matter what you do!+

Then he was gone, and the church was in darkness, the only thing left of it was the deep, five-metre wide crater in the floor.

"Is it, is it dead?" asked Selg as Brutis "Bones" approached.

Brutis shook his head wearily, "no, Selg. We just sent him and his witch explosion back into the Warp."

Selg nodded as Brutis activated his vox link, "This is Inquisitor Tybalt, Edracian is defeated I repeat. Edracian is dead we are victorious."

Dead In more ways than one, I thought.

I am tired; I must return to my body, said Karmen.

"Now what?" asked Verenth.

"Mercs are still holding floors six through eight," said Brutis. "The elevator's active and we are transporting troops up and soon will have enough strength to catch them between us. We've still got fighting to do."

"Great," I sighed. "Of course we do."

"No, I think yours and Darrance's struggle is over," said Brutis. "You're in no condition to fight anymore."

I sighed again as Darrance approached, with Hayden helping him walk.

"Do you...do have an ecclesiarchy priest?" asked Darrance, his face dark

Brutis furrowed his brow and folded his arms, "yeah, he's back at Taryst's tower, why?"

I gasped, and my eyes widened, realising what he meant, then had to fight back the sudden welling tears.

"Our friend," managed Darrance. "She...died, she was deeply religious, followed the Emperor and that. I think she deserves a proper send off. She gave her life to stop that...thing. She died in His service. She was the best of us, and now she's dead."

Brutis stood in silence.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore as they freely flowed.

"Please," I hissed. "Darrance is right. I know so many have died other than her and I know we were enemies. But please. She'd have liked that, please give her this! She was like the sister I never had."

"Where did she die?" asked Brutis.

"There," said Darrance, pointing.

Brutis nodded and began walking to the rubble.

Darrance yelled, "her name was…!"

"I know her name, Darrance," Brutis interrupted. "I made the effort to learn all of your names! Her's was Castella Lethe; it seemed a fitting name from what little I knew of her."

I nodded, and we followed him.

"I'm not a priest," said Brutis. "But I am an Inquisitor, the next best thing, I guess."

"Yes," I said. "Thank you."

"Boss," said Verenth with uncertainty.

"Verenth!" said Brutis. "I know time is short and know she's one of them, but I feel I've gotta do this, anyway she wasn't one of them who killed so many of us. It won't be long."

He looked over his shoulder, "besides once finished here I'm gonna have this place levelled if it's going to happen, it's going to now."

For a few minutes, we stood in respectful silence as Brutis recited the Litany of The Emperor's peace, his hands raised over the rubble. It was a rushed version, but Brutis never left anything out and the entire time tears flowed down my face. I hadn't been to an ecclesiarchy service since before the war on Elbyra but still remembered when to say the responses. Usually, I would've mouthed it, but for Castella, I wouldn't show such disrespect.

Once he finished, Brutis turned back, approached me then much to my surprise placed his gauntleted hand on my shoulder.

"For a cold-hearted merc killer, you seem to cry a lot," he said, smiling and looking as haggard as hell. "She must've been close to you, I am sorry."

All I could manage was a nod.

Brutis stepped past me, "alright! That's enough! Selg! Take your men and scout the rest of the tenth floor! Hayden! You're with them! I doubt there's anyone else up here, but we've got to look anyway! The rest of you with me! We'll take Attelus and Darrance to the elevator so they can get back and we'll rejoin the reinforcements there! Move! Move!"

Selg slipped away, and another Hammer took Hayden's place helping Darrance.

"Thank you," I hissed as we walked to the exit. "Your name is Verenth, right? Thanks."

Verenth clenched his teeth, "I only do it 'cause the boss ordered me to, nothing personal."

I sighed and said, "I'm sorry about killing your brother, I am truly sorry. But...but I only did it because my boss ordered me to, as well. It was nothing personal also. I'm not trying to justify it, and I do deserve your anger, but there are others who are far more deserving of it than me."

"Yeah, like who?" he growled.

"Inquisitor Etuarq," I answered without hesitation. "it was all because of him that this happened, it was because of him, so many have died. He manipulated us all; he manipulated all of this. I would've suggested Taryst too, but he's already dead."

Verenth said nothing.

"I've suffered much to get here," I said. "I've been through hell, Verenth."

"Yeah? Like what?" he growled. "I doubt it has anything on having to mourn your younger brother."

"I wouldn't know," I said. "I'm an only child, but I do know what it's like to lose a mother and that was hard as hell. How about just after finally getting up the courage to confess to the girl that you loved, that you loved her, for her to be shot in the back, then she bled out in your arms? Just after a life and death fight with her? Or the woman who was like a big sister to you just being crushed horribly, abruptly under a falling pillar? Or how about finding out you may be indirectly responsible for the potential deaths of billions? Or…"

"I get!" said Verenth as we finally walked out onto the stairs. "I get it! But that doesn't make up for…"

"No!" I Interrupted. "I never said it did, but I suspect before this is all done, especially now with this new revelation, that it's just beginning. That I've got a shit ton more trauma to go through before this is done, but if I have to go through that so someone else doesn't have to if I have to go through that so that maybe, one day I will earn some forgiveness from those I've done wrong. I will, and I will bear it. So you can hate me all you want, it's fair enough, I understand. Please don't kill me. There's still much for me to do. Once I'm done, once I'm finished, and if you don't deem it enough, then you can put a bullet through my brain, and I will let you. And perhaps, by then, I'll even welcome it."

Verenth smiled, "if that's the case, then you'll never be done, and I'll never get to blow your head off."

I laughed despite myself, "I'll be done if I end up crippled and destroyed in the process. Confined into a wheelchair or whatever. Then I suspect I'll truly welcome that round."

Verenth said nothing, just clenched his jaw, perhaps the idea of him killing me without me minding didn't appeal. Fair enough.

"What are you?" asked one of the Hammers. "Some kind of masochist or something?"

"Perhaps," I said with a shrug, genuinely surprised a moody Hammer knew what a 'masochist' was. "But I never said I'd enjoy it."

"You've changed," said Darrance.

I looked at him, expecting he'd say more but he just stayed silent, his attention fixed forward.

We were the last out, Brutis leading the way, Wesley on his flank and the Inquisitor reached to his ear.

"Gerral, we're about meet you at the bottom of the stairs, stand ready," he said.

Brutis paused and held up a hand for us to halt.

"Gerral! Respond!"

Brutis waited for a few seconds before glancing at us, grim-faced he shook his head then waved an advance.

Slowly and in surprising silence we walked the stairs, everyone but Darrance and I with weapons raised. We reached the end of the curvature and saw the corpses, ten of them, all cut apart by a power sword. There was no sign of weapons discharge, no smell of las-fire or gunpowder, no holes or scorching in the walls.

I didn't like this, to take out ten men, even lowly Moody Hammers like them, without even one getting off a shot? And with all the lights intact? They were good, really, really good; my question was why hadn't they struck until now?

With points of his fingers, Brutis ordered the Hammers to fan out. I could tell Verenth wanted to move up too, but we were forced to watch on.

The Hammers surprisingly calm secured the perimeter, covering the corridors with their assortment of guns and Brutis reached for his vox.

"This is Inquisitor Tybalt, I've got ten men dead on the ninth floor. Professional killers, none of my men managed to get off a shot, power sword wounds. We've got more assassins it seems, three maybe four, watch out."

"One," said someone and everyone looked to the voice's source, it was only then I realised it was me who said it.

"What?"

"There was one killer," I said with certainty. "Inquisitor Etuarq said he was delaying for when someone special was going to enter the building, who would be that special?"

Darrance's eyes widened, and he flinched with realisation, "shit! She's here! Glaitis is here!"

The light above Brutis and the Hammers suddenly smashed out, leaving them endowed in darkness and I could hear a slight clatter as what I guessed was a throwing knife fell to the floor.

Immediately the Moody Hammers opened up, the light from their weapons revealing everything in blinding flashes of white, despite Brutis bellowing to cease fire.

Two on the right abruptly cried and reeled then collapsed, knives jutting seeming appearing in their chests, then another two on the left, with blades jutting from the bases of their skulls.

I would've shouted a warning, but there was no way they could hear me over their roaring weapons as Glaitis was suddenly among them, dual swords slashing she gutted another two. A third tried to bring up his Lasgun, but she kicked him in the face so hard the crunch! Managed to eclipse the roaring gunfire around and the poor bastard collapsed like a ton of bricks.

She threw another two knives, one impaled the eye socket of a Hammer the other, Wesley ducked.

With a roar Brutis dropped his bolter and drew his elaborate powersword, igniting it as Glaitis activated both hers and he barely managed to smash her slashes aside, he would've been unable to parry her following thrust if Wesley's shots hadn't forced her to dart back.

It all happened so fast that Verenth only now had slipped me off and drawn his auto pistol. My limbs were like lead so without complaint I collapsed onto the stairs, as did Darrance as Verenth's colleague unslung his Lasgun and desperately they tried to get a clear shot at Glaitis.

"Don't," I said with finality.

"What?" snarled the other Hammer.

"Don't even try," I said. "If you shoot, you'll only draw her attention, and she will kill you. You're way over your heads here; I'm sorry to say."

The Hammer gritted his teeth but nodded and hesitantly lowered his weapon, but Verenth didn't.

"I can't just stand here and watch!" bellowed Verenth.

"You can and you will!" I snapped. "You'll only get in the way! That I assure you. Right now those two are the only ones in any condition to stop her. As much as you want to help, helping them will only do more harm than good."

"Yeah! And what about you? Would you make a difference?" snapped Verenth.

"Of course I would," I stated, "but I can barely move, I'm no help to man nor beast."

"How can you be so frigging calm!" he roared. "I heard you panicking like a little girl in the elevator shaft! Don't you wish you can help!"

I grinned, and it must've been more than a little unnerving as it made both Verenth and the other Hammer to flinch and exchange fearful glances.

"Of course I do," I said. "This is the first time in a long time I've seen her fight, and I'm pretty sure…"

"Sure of what?" Verenth stammered.

"If I were to fight her, even one on one, I'd kill her," I said. "It'd be hard fought, the fight of my life I'm sure. But Feuilt was better than her, Elandria was better than her, not by much mind you but even still. She's spent too long sitting idle at her desk scheming and planning, I'm afraid. She's lost her edge. Oh, how I wish beyond wish that I could help. I really, truly do. To be the one to end the infamous Glaitis, to be the one to finally kill her, oh what a privilege that'd be. To truly prove I've finally surpassed her in skill."

"You're messed in the head," Verenth said. "And more than a little bit frigging terrifying."

"I am," I said, "I really, really am."

Verenth furrowed his brow yet still, very hesitantly, lowered his weapon.

Glaitis flipped and wheeled through Wesley's shots then lunged at him, slashing horizontally for his head. Wesley, with surprising speed, leaned back, just out the way, then sidestepped her thrust, while attempting to smash the butt of his Stubb revolver into her insane, grinning face. But she cartwheeled back and pirouetted just in time to parry Brutis' vertical cut.

He rallied and cut horizontally, she ducked it and countered with an awe-inspiring cavalcade of feints, slashes and stabs. I could tell Brutis Bones was quite skilled, he'd practised for years, perhaps decades, but compared to a dedicated sword wielder like Glaitis or me, he was an amateur. So it was all the more impressive he wasn't sliced to ribbons, he managed to parry a few but was forced to back step most of it, some attacks were just too fast, slicing gashes in his armour which drew blood. All the while Wesley reloaded his stub revolver.

Both Verenth and the other Hammer watched on, their jaws twitching and fidgeting in impatience, although they weren't quite able to follow it.

Brutis, reeling and bleeding from the onslaught, with a bellow desperately slashed diagonally after parrying Glaitis' thrust. She weaved away, then sidestepped his viciously powerful front kick. Finally, Wesley was finished reloading his Stubb revolver, and his shots sent Glaitis darting and winding. She snarled and threw a knife which flew straight and true, smashing Wesley's gun from his grasp.

Roaring, Brutis was on her, slashing down, Glaitis sidestepped it and spun into a horizontal cut that Brutis barely backstepped. Wesley had retrieved his pistol, and his desperate shots were what kept Glaitis' thrust from impaling Brutis' skull.

Glaitis snarled again; I could see she was mad, frustrated she wasn't able to take them out yet. If Wesley and Brutis could hold out for long enough, perhaps she'd make a mistake, create an opening.

Or at least I hoped she would.

Glaitis darted and flipped through Wesley's fire as she blocked and parried Brutis' slashes and stabs.

She should've been kept on the defensive, but somehow she was still able to counter. I could see her tactic; she was focusing on Wesley mostly, preventing him from firing at her and wearing him down. She knew she could kill Brutis once Wesley was out of the picture, his Stubb revolver was the more significant threat to her now.

I watched Brutis as he barely blocked her latest horizontal slash, the inquisitor must've known he was outclassed, that if it weren't for Wesley he'd have been dead five times over, yet still here he was, fighting not giving up. I could sympathise with that; stubbornness seemed to be something we had in common.

"Shit!" snapped Wesley as his pistol clicked dry yet again. "I'm out! Verenth!"

Verenth's eyes widened and after a moment's hesitation threw his auto pistol to Wesley.

Glaitis ducked Brutis' counter then cartwheeled his next thrust and darted toward Wesley, immediately seeing her opportunity.

But as she did I saw Wesley smile, and he flicked open his revolver, slid in one bullet and spun to face Glaitis as she came on him. Pistol raised right in her face.

"What the hell is going on here?" roared a voice.

It caused Wesley to hesitate, and he lost his arm from the elbow down because of it.

His scream was cut short as Glaitis' sliced his torso in two.

My jaw dropped, and my eyes widened in shock as did everyone else while Verenth's pistol clattered on the floor.

"Wesley!" roared Brutis.

From the left side corridor, "Olinthre" walked into view, looking bloodied and beaten and grinning from ear to ear, with a las gun raised.

"It looks as though I arrived just in time," It said.

Glaitis smiled but said nothing.

"Major! What the hell are you doing?" demanded Brutis.

"Brutis!" I yelled. "That's not major Olinthre! Its…!"

"My servant!" Glaitis interrupted with an insane laugh. "The only one with the sense to stay loyal to me!"

"Frig!" I snapped, truly regretting failing to inform Brutis of "Olinthre's" real identity now.

Brutis' clenched his teeth as he realised the situation he was in, glancing back and forth between Glaitis and "Olinthre" a few times uncertainty.

"I can't stand by any longer, sorry, kid!" snarled Verenth as he raised his Stubb revolver and the other Hammer, his Las gun.

I sighed and said nothing, knowing it was pointless to argue, we were dead either way now.

"Aim for the major!" I yelled as an idea hit me, It wasn't as fast as Glaitis so perhaps they could actually kill it.

"Really?" It said, grinning insanely at us and in a flash of light. It transformed into Wesley, "are you sure?"

Verenth and the Hammer gasped, hesitating.

Glaitis laughed and threw two knives, one stuck fast into Verenth's arm as the other embedded in the hammer's shoulder and with yells of pain they fell on their arses.

She would've thrown more, but with a roar Brutis was slashing at her, forcing her to cartwheel back.

"I will not stand by and watch you anymore kill any more of my men!" he bellowed. "You bitch!"

He tried to slash again but the Olinthre-thing's Las fire smashed into him, the burst caused him to reel. In the next second Glaitis smashed into him, knocking him off his feet and to the floor, then he screamed as she impaled his sword arm to the hilt.

Glaitis laughed and flipped back, out of his reach, leaving one of her swords to pin him on his back.

"Well! Be careful what you wish for, Inquisitor!" she grinned. "If you cannot stand back! Then you can just lie back and watch instead! While I slaughter all your pathetic subordinates!"

Brutis roared and reeled and tried to reach for Glaitis' sword, but Glaitis drew another knife and stabbed it into the soft gap in the elbow of his free arm; eliciting another agonised scream from him.

She laughed again and twisted the knife, "there! There!" she snarled. "Don't even think about trying to be one of those willful fools who pulls the blade out and continues to fight! Trying to be a hero! You should know that it's overrated!"

"You! Fething! Bitch!" he screamed through clenched teeth.

She laughed even harder, stepped back and said, " oh how imaginative! But I guess you are not in a good condition to think of anything better. Oh well! I'll end your suffering, eventually, Inquisitor. Once I'm done with your friends!"

Glaitis turned and grinned insanely at us, causing both Verenth and the Hammer to cower in fear.

And I couldn't blame them.

"Mamzel!" said the Mimic as It approached her, still in Wesley's form. "Great job. I am glad you managed to get me over the vox so I could help."

"Oh shut up!" she snapped. "I am not in the mood for your arse kissing!"

"Sorry, mamzel!" It stammered, "but may I ask a favour?"

"Yes, what?" she said.

It grinned a disturbing grin that didn't fit Wesley's face, "can you allow me to kill the foolish apprentice? I'll make sure to make it long and painful; he humiliated me! Made me look a fool! Please? Would you, please?"

"No," she said without hesitation. "He humiliated you, but he betrayed me, turned the others against me. He's dodged the consequences of his actions thus far, but no longer. No longer, besides..."

"Besides?"

She grinned, "besides, how can you do it, if you're dead?"

"Wha…?"

Before it could finish, she stabbed It through the chest.

Wesley's eyes widened with shock and surprise as did mine.

"Why?" It gasped. "I have served you all, my life. I stayed loyal..."

"You co-operated with the apprentice, even after knowing he'd betrayed me!" Glaitis snarled as she twisted the blade. "As far as I'm concerned you are just as responsible as he is. Just be glad that I'm sparing you the same fate I have in store for him!"

She abruptly pulled out her sword, and it fell to its knees.

"Oh!" she said. "I almost forgot, 'Wesley,' I have been lying to you, all your life, in fact. You were never a Xenos, an alien. No, you're something even worse, something even more lowly and pathetic, yes. You are a mutant, a twist, a scourge on society, the lowest of the low. Nothing special at all! So die, die like the piece of gutter trash you are."

She laughed and walked toward us, turning her back on the dying Mimic as it fell on its face and the pool of blood began expanding beneath it, red blood, human blood. Yet it still kept Wesley Jeksen's form.

I kept gaping, unable to say anything, to comprehend anything and that was when Darrance walked past me, power scimitar limply held at his side as he gasped for breath.

"Oh?" she said, stopping, tilting her head in insane curiosity. "Darrance? What are you doing? You are in no condition to fight me."

"I finally see you, for what you truly are," he managed. "A monster."

"A monster? Really? That's a little harsh, especially coming from you," she said. "Sure, I must admit I'm a little manipulative and cruel, but I was never quite a monster."

She grinned even wider, "that's until now, of course. It's all the apprentice's fault; it was his betrayal that pushed me over the edge, drove me past the brink and into insanity. It's because…"

"Shut up!" interrupted Darrance. "Stop blaming him! You always blame others for your own actions, and mistakes, always! It was your own pride that pushed you this far; you were the one who allowed the apprentice to get kidnapped in the first place! You were the one who took him from Elbyra and to here! It's just as much your fault as his, if not more so!"

Glaitis' face turned murderous, "you did this to me too, Darrance. My most loyal servant…"

"Shut it!" he snarled. "No one did anything to you! This is your fault! I think this isn't you being driven insane I bet this is you! The real you! I bet you lost your sanity a long time ago and have been putting up a mask ever since!"

Much to my shock, I saw Darrance had tears in his eyes.

"I looked up to you! Hell! I even think I loved you! But now I realise just how stupid I was; I put you on a pedestal. Lied to myself for so long about who and what you truly were! But I see the truth now! I see you're nothing but a pathetic old woman who is so overtaken by hate and the lust for revenge there's nothing else left! I...I"

Darrance clenched his free hand into a fist as tears flowed freely down his face.

Glaitis raised an eyebrow, "so? Are you done now?"

Darrance grinned through the tears, "yes, and I'd like to thank you, thank you for being stupid enough to listen to my rant rather than just killing us."

Glaitis' eyes widened, and she turned just in time to dash out the path of the Las fire erupting from the left side corridor.

The fire strafed after her, and she slid to a stop, her power sword a blur of motion as it smashed aside the shots raining her way.

Then I heard the familiar sound of a shotgun firing and watched as she sidestepped through the shot gunshots, all the while still deflecting the laser fire.

Cursing and snarling she darted back, trying to get some range from the shotgun then the attackers emerged into view.

It was Garrakson, Torris and Arlathan. Both Garrakson and Arlathan laid down the constant barrage of with their las guns, Torris with his shotgun.

"H-how!" I said.

Darrance grinned, "as you just sat there watching and looking like an idiot I raised those guys over the vox, told them what was going on. You know, like a smart person would."

I frowned, "I hope you're aware I can't move, not even slightly, right?"

Darrance shrugged, "you still didn't think of it, did you?"

I just clenched my jaw and said nothing.

Verenth and the other Hammer got to their feet, grasping at their useless, bloody arms and watched with expressions of awe.

"Is she...is she even human?" asked the Hammer.

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "As much as she wishes she wasn't."

Both Verenth and the Hammer furrowed their brows and exchanged bemused looks.

Glaitis snarled, I could she was gasping for breath and slowing down now. Not even she could keep this up for much longer.

I grinned to myself if she hadn't stupidly killed the Mimic she wouldn't be in this predicament.

But soon Garrakson and Arlathan would run out of ammo, and I had a bad feeling that'd come first.

As if on cue, almost simultaneously their guns clicked dry then Glaitis was on them.

Her front kick knocked Torris' shotgun from his grasp, and he barely managed to back peddle her throat punch. Arlathan, reacting with impressive speed, swung the butt of his lasgun at her skull but lightning fast she darted back, then in again and cut his rifle in half. Arlathan countered with a hook punch she barely weaved under, then she threw a roundhouse kick he just managed to block with a forearm, but I heard a crack, and he cried out in pain grasping at his limp limb and stumbled away. Leaving him open for the killing thrust.

Before she could, Torris was on her flank and throwing a powerful front thrust kick, a disparagingly reckless attack that made me involuntarily hiss through clenched teeth.

Glaitis leaned out the way and slashed horizontally at his stomach, forcing Torris to throw himself clumsily backwards to keep from being disembowelled.

All of this time Garrakson reloaded and moved away a few metres. His blurt of las was what kept Glaitis from decapitating Torris with her next attack.

"So finally I get to meet the infamous bitch in person!" he roared.

Glaitis didn't deign to reply, she only got to full height and eyed him contemptuously.

"You're the one responsible for the death of Taryst!" he snarled.

Glaitis still didn't say anything; she just glanced sidelong at the Mimic's corpse pointedly.

Trying to use Glaitis' distraction Torris lunged at her, throwing a punch straight at her head, but in the blink of an eye she drew a knife and stabbed him in the arm, before sidestepping and smashing a front kick into his side. The sickening crack of his breaking ribs made me wince in sympathy, and he slid on the floor before stopping, curling up and crying out in pain.

"Bitch!" he snarled and fired another flurry, which she simply smashed aside with her powerblade.

"Could you please say something original? Please?" she sighed, breathlessly.

"Shut! Up!"

"Or what?" she snarled. "You'll kill me?"

Glaitis threw back her head and burst out in laughter, "do you really think you're capable of it? I am Glaitis! Master assassin with decades of experience in bloodletting! I have trained my body and mind beyond the capability of normal humanity! You! You are just some pathetic ex-guardsman nobody like the dozens, no! Hundreds of others that I've slaughtered over the years!"

Garrakson clenched his teeth and fired again, forcing Glaitis to sprint sidelong his fire strafing her wake.

"How does it feel Jeurat Garrakson?" she yelled. "How does it feel to know you're incapable of killing the one who is responsible for the death of the one you loved? How does it feel to be incapable of killing the one responsible for the death of your last remaining war buddy? The man who was the only other survivor of your regiment? The comrade who was your commander?"

Garrakson's reply was only an enraged roar and more las rounds.

"That's right!" she laughed. "Major Olinthre once of the 801st Cadian regiment! It was my loyal servant who strangled the life from him, just like he did to Taryst! The man you loved! The man who saved you and him from the Nightlord ambush that slaughtered the rest of your regiment!"

"Shut up!" he roared.

"On second thought, I won't kill you, Jeurat!" she laughed as she darted and flipped through his withering bursts. "Not yet! Along with the pathetic Inquisitor, I'll make you watch as I kill your comrades, your friends! Marcel Torris! And the apprentice! I'll make them suffer slowly and die in front of you to make up for you being unable to watch the deaths of Taryst and Olinthre! Once you're broken, only then will I kill you! It'll be beautiful! Amazing! Oh, I can't wait!"

Abruptly Garrakson stopped shooting, ejected the lasgun's clip and slammed another home despite not being out of ammo. The look of anger and determination on his scarred face was terrifying.

Glaitis tilted her head and smiled, "oh, what's this now?"

Garrakson clenched his teeth and tears rolled abruptly down his face, "this is for you, Taryst and you too, Olinthre."

Then he flicked his lasgun onto 'full auto' and with a roar, charged firing a constant stream from the hip.

Glaitis laughed, dodging and parrying the shots, "what do you want to die, now?"

Garrakson just roared and continued forward, firing and firing.

"Jeurat! No!" I heard Torris yell.

As he closed in, Garrakson suddenly dropped his rifle and drew his knife, then with one swift stroke, Glaitis decapitated him.

In shocked silence I watched, and it took me a good few seconds to realise I was crying. He was my friend, a good friend who I'd fought alongside for months. A friend who'd tried to help me, a true friend.

"Garrakson!" I roared.

Glaitis stood stock still, grinning from ear to ear, then suddenly she screamed a shrill scream of utter agony and abruptly she fell to the floor. Writhing, trying to reach behind her back.

My shock was replaced by confusion, then I saw it, the bloody hilt of Garrakson's knife jutting from the base of her back.

For a good ten minutes, Glaitis lay screaming and writhing as she slowly, painfully died. No one moved to put her out of her misery. It was the very least she deserved.

"So passes master Seylit Glaitis of the cult of the Blades of Vengeance," intoned Darrance. "May we never see her likes in this galaxy ever again."

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khrow-shinku · 3 years

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The Great War S19

D&D 5e Campaign

The Great War

Session 19

We return to our “heroes'' with Ara noticing several children dead in soldiers' uniforms. Ara’s anger and power had already started to escalate beyond Thefa’s ability to calm her and as such Ara was actively changing the weather with her heat at this point unbeknownst to Ara. When Ara realized just how many children were dead on the field, it was obvious by the size of the foot print on their flattened corpses it was Rooklus’s handywork. This drove her rage beyond her mental capacity to withstand it causing her to lose her sanity. Upon losing her sanity, her power went out of control. The power both of her parents knew was unawakened within her suddenly awakened violently against her will and judgement because without her sanity there was nothing to keep the massive well of power in check. It began to transform and morph her body in new and unusual ways. Her eyes began to glow crimson, her tail swelled up and became more muscular as the heat inside her burned her skin black as charcoal and turned her clothing to ash before the charred skin began to peel off revealing the glowing form underneath that looked like magma. Thefa at this point was unable to stand and was forced to kneel and bow to Ara as the aura being emitted by Ara pushed her down. At this point the dragon was burned alive and tinkerman was melted into the ground. Rooklus grabbed the rest of the party and ran as fast as he could away from Ara except Rin and Baruch. Baruch turned ethereal hoping to avoid the damage and be there to heal anyone alive when it was over. Rin stayed behind, intentionally putting herself directly in harm's way, she then fell to her knees and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Grandpa I know you’re watching I need to talk to you now! Face to face and I do mean hurry!” With that Rin blinked out of the realm.Rooklus ran for several hundreds of yards hoping it was enough, he collapsed to the ground tired and turned to look to see if he made it far enough away only to see he had not. It was at the moment Rooklus looked back to see a giant ball of fiery plasma that was shrinking and turning darker. A few moments later it implodes and sucks everything in this and 2 other solar systems into it, destroying all life within them except Baruch who is now floating in space, still ethereal. Baruch’s inner monologue “Oh shit, when this spell ends how am I going to breath? Welp this sucks.”

Meanwhile in a realm outside of time and space a very panicked and frightened Rin tries to compose herself. “Ummm Grandpa, if I’m allowed to call you that? I mean I’ve been told not to use your real name, hell I don’t even know your real name… anyway… you here?” Rin questioned hesitantly. “Yes little one I am here, and yes you may call me that. Why did you ask me to bring you here?” He asked. “Well I know you were watching and… I know it's more than likely a taboo but can you please rewind time just a little? Just right before that battle. I know I can fix it so please, If you do I swear to come stay with you once my journey is done so please just please do this just this once. Please!” Rin begged. “Heh my dear child how many times have we made these deals before? You wish to add to it now in a different way? Sigh…” he said exasperated. Rin looked at him with a puzzled look, “What do you mean before? I’ve never come to you asking for anything before. What are you talking about?” He chuckles to himself, “Oh that’s right this is the first time, this time. How easily I forget that. Anyway pay no mind to that, yes, yes I’ll do it. I have nothing but faith in you deary.” With that Rin blinked back to the battlefield at the beginning before anyone had done anything.

Rin appears on the battlefield, turns to the party and looks at them. “Ok everyone stop, no one do anything. We’ve done this before.. It did not go entirely as planned. To prove it, JJJ you were just going to ask Rooklus to throw you at the main enemy, over the soldiers.” JJJ’s eyes got wide and he nods looking at everyone before Rin continues. “Ok Rooklus I want you to still do that however do the same to me right after you throw him but aim me at a 45 degree angle so that I go a bit higher. JJJ. you do exactly everything you are thinking of doing. Rooklus shrugs and throws JJJ then throws Rin at a 45 degree angle towards the enemies. (HAH Mammoth 1 Fox 1 Fire, Fox 2 Fire! Hahaha, right DM!) JJJ does the exact same attack as before breaking the leader’s shield. Rin while in the air transforms, sprouting her incorporeal wings as she draws her katana flipping her the speed switch on her katana. With a swift blur she ascends skyward til only the twinkle from light reflecting off her sword is seen and she dives down and slams her katana through the leader's neck. The blow results in a complete beheading and his entire body is sliced into tiny perfectly congruent cubes.(Hey DM you should give her that as a permanent move, call it “Sky Gullotine” you know that sounds fucking awesome right? Everyone has to name their moves, it's just a part of the hero thing isn’t it?) Seeing the tyrant fall the soldiers ran away screaming “..don’t kill us.. ..we never wanted to fight.. ..thank you for killing him.. ..aahhhh!”

Rin then took this time to walk back over to the party and fill the party in on everything that happened the first time and explained why she took over the party for a moment and had them completely scrap all of the plans they had made before. However before doing so she looks at the dragon and tells him to sit and asks him to put down tinkerman. To the party’s amazement he listened. Rin also notices as she rejoins the party and Ara arrives on the scene that Ara’s mood circlet has changed. Where it was previously, there is now the top part of a dragon skull embedded into her skin going into her hair. Only it is no longer her hair it seems as though the illusionary flame has fully merged with her hair and the flames now are her on the top of her head however the back still looked the same. During all of this a blue haired female appears standing on Biska's tail however Biska feels no weight on her tail as if the girl is weightless. Biska then asks her politely to get off her tail and she does. The soldier’s come back to get their weapons cautiously. One of the elders among the soldiers thanks the party for getting rid of the tyrant and asks who they are.

Rin and Thefa nudge Ara forward gently yet forcefully and Rin whispers to her using the tongue rings, “Now is your time, talk to your people and tell them who you are. You can do this queenie!” Thefa just nods to Ara and motions her to do it as well. Ara clears her throat and then begins speaking in a very royal manner, “ Hello citizens of Aeldari. My name is Aravari Domarien..” Thefa chimes in through the tongue ring, “Use your mothers maiden name!” Ara then bounces back quickly and charismatically, “Or as some of you may better know me, Aravari Nishimoto, daughter of Bekari Nishimoto and rightful heir to rule of this country.” As soon as they hear the name Nishimoto all of them take a knee and kneel recognising her as their queen. “I came here with my friends to free you from this hellish nightmare and take back the throne. I will put an end to all of this and you will never live in such dire straits like this again. I will bring this country back to its former glory and beyond. You may now stand.” Ara commands. As they all stand upon her command Ara whispers through the tongue ring, “I could get used to this queen business.” After standing an elder chimes in “So does that mean you’ve taken care of the council?” “What council?” Ara asks. The elder further explains that there is a council of business owners, known as the council of nine hands, who are running things and that those two idiots were nothing more than puppets that acted as the figure heads. Ara quickly responds, assuring them she will take them out too, she promises, and she sends them on their way to go home to their loved ones.

The party then goes back to the castle to do some planning on how to approach this council situation. Once the castle comes into view the party notices it is almost completely repaired, the specter butlers had been very busy while the party was away. The dragon, Biska, and mysterious blue haired female, also come back to the castle playing a round of Tinkermanball, that is to say they were throwing him around like a giant ball. Baruch talked to his deity to find out if he had any offspring in the area. Turns out he had a lot so he left to go talk to them about what they knew if anything. Thefa, Rin, and Ara started going through the books in her castle library. However before they could hit the books the head knight of the guy Ara one shot, shows up. (Yeah DM not your best moment, still salty about how anti-climatic that one was.) She asks who killed him. Ara speaks up and announces herself as future queen, daughter of the queen that shirked her responsibilities as queen that lead to all this. She then adds saying, “I am the one who killed him. I intend to retake what was intended for me and fix this mess.” The knight responds, “Ok well I should warn you I work for the council you are going to have to go against to achieve your goals.” Ara then asks, “Is there is some way I can convince you to work for me instead as a double agent. Keep me informed of the council’s movements etc.” The knight thinks for a moment. “Perhaps as long as you can do something for me once you’ve taken over. Pardon my brother of his crimes and free him from prison.” Ara asks, “Depends, what did he do to get in there?” The knight answers, “He tried to impersonate a member of the Nishimoto clan in order to get rid of the council.” Ara chuckles, “Is that all? Yes yes, once I have control he will be fully pardoned and rewarded for being an outstanding citizen who attempted to help his people. Given the way things are I do not blame him and I understand his reasons.” With this the two struck a deal and the knight left to continue her duties.

Baruch on the way to meet up with his family was able to talk to his offspring in the city through his deity and ask them all to meet up at a tavern in town. He then arrived at the tavern one of his offspring owned and he had a secured room that Baruch could do research in and he had lots of books on sensitive topics. It was odd to say the least to find such a room in a tavern. Baruch then talks with all of his offspring and sends them out to collect info for him. Baruch then chimes in using the rings and informs the party that he has found some more books and lets the party know his location if anyone wishes to join and assist. Rooklus and JJJ feeling there was too much estrogen here decided to go help Baruch. Baruch notices that the door and only exit to the room he is in looks strong enough to withstand a mammoth with no issues, curious to say the least. Rooklus and JJJ finally caught up to Baruch and joined him in the back room and helped him with the research.

The girls found books with updated laws on how the caste system actually is in the country at the current time. The boys found an older book of that same caste system dated around 100 years prior to the book the girls found. At this point the boys contacted the girls through the rings and they began comparing notes on the books. During the conversation Rin and Baruch both suddenly are able to see both copies side by side through some magical means that neither of them had activated to their knowledge and their tongues were itching for some reason right around the tongue rings. (Really divine intervention? All because they are connected to celestials? Ugh, what is this hallmark?) They noticed the writer of both was different. The newer copy was written by Alfonse Le Darc about 31 years before his death. Rin gasps, “Oh shit guys, that’s the scumbag whose ass we kicked who was doing shady shit behind the queen or Urildyr’s back? He was on that list of assholes trying to start the war.” To be continued...

#d&d #d&d5e #campaign #the great war #session 19 #homebrew #dnd

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mirkwoodshewolf · 7 years

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Your best chance pt. 2

Here is the second part of Your best chance, I know this 2shot was a long one esp. during the first part but here is the end, be prepared for some MAJOR FEELS. I hope you guys enjoy the second part and look forward to my last 2 part oneshot series.

Taglist:

@evyiione

_____________________________________________________

*3rd Person POV*

As Steve continued to fly the quinjet Bucky said.

"What's going to happen to your friends?" Steve remained silent and he said.

"They chose this path, they'll deal with the consequences proudly".

"I don't know if I'm worth all of this to you".

"What you did all those years, wasn't your fault. You didn't have a choice".

"I know. But I did it. And now because of me, I've lost the one innocent thing that ever truly kept me sane". Steve remained quiet and kept his course to Siberia where they had found out that Zemo was hiding in the old facility where Bucky was once kept and trained as the Winter Soldier.

Unaware that they were being followed by King T'Challa in a separate jet underneath them.

When Bucky and Steve entered Siberia and were now at the doors of the old facility, they entered inside and took the elevator down. Steve stood at front with his shield and Bucky at his back covering him with his gun pointed straight forward to defend his friend. Suddenly the doors began wiring like someone was trying to get through them. Bucky and Steve stood on the defensive ready to attack or defend at whatever or whoever came out that door, when the doors opened it revealed to be Iron-man himself.

Steve stood down and Tony's face revealed himself as he said to the cautious Captain.

"Captain, you seem a little tense".

"Well it's been a long day, what are you doing here Stark?"

"Secretary Ross said I needed to bring you in, but I'm making a different call, it would seem your old war buddy was framed by Zemo. Don't make me regret my decision".

"It is good to see you Tony". The two men nodded at each other softly. When Tony took notice of Bucky ready to fire at will he stated to the protective soldier,

"Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. We're on a truce. Put the gun down". With the truce states, the three men walked along following the heat signatures that FRIDAY was providing for Tony and soon they came upon another door. When Steve an Bucky opened the steal-tight door and the three of them entered inside, they were shocked to what they found.

Dozens of men and women frozen inside cylinder cryo-tubes with wires all sticking out from their bodies.

"What the hell" Bucky muttered softly.

"If it's any consolation, they all died in their sleep" Zemo's voice echoed through the speakers. The three of them soon turned to see Zemo standing behind a see-through window and Steve said knowing the accent.

"You're Sokovian. Is that what this is about?"

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise". Zemo stated coldly.

"You lost someone".

"I lost everyone, and so will you".

"The bombing in Vienna. You caused them, for that?"

"I had to make a big scene in order to draw out him," Zemo gestured to Bucky with his eyes then he continued, "I've thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you, I followed you, but now that you're standing here I just realized... there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes" he chuckled softly then ended with, "How nice to find a flaw. And now I've finally gained what I've wanted. Mission report; Dec. 16th, 1991". Soon a small TV turned on and a tape began playing that was recorded on the same date that Zemo had said on an old country road.

"I know that road" Tony said as he saw a car crash right into a light post. The video then showed Bucky in full Winter Soldier uniform and he pulled an old man out and the man said weakly.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Bucky then proceeded to beat the old man to death by repeatedly punching him in the face against the car. A woman's voice cried out the man's name weakly as Bucky placed the man back in the driver's seat, his dead body laying limp on the seat as Bucky then proceeded to choke the woman until she drew her last breath. Once both of them were silent, Bucky shot the video camera erasing all evidence.

Tony was enraged that he had found out what truly happened to his parents.

Before he could go in full rage against Bucky, Steve stopped him and said.

"Tony hold on, it wasn't him he didn't know what he was doing". Tony paused then muttered angrily.

"Did you know about this?"

"I didn't know it was him—"

"Don't shit with me Rogers did you know?" Tony snarled."Yes". Stark backed away and looked down in disbelief before his anger took control and he punched Steve in the face which soon caused the three of them to break out into a three-man war while Zemo snuck out and just sat out in the cold looking at his phone sadly.

Zemo was listening to an old message from his wife when T'Challa snuck up behind him quietly setting down his Black Panther mask as he said.

"I almost killed the wrong man".

"Hardly an innocent one" Zemo stated bluntly.

"Is this all you wanted? To see them rip each other apart?" T'Challa asked as he now stood beside Zemo.

"My father lived outside the city, and I thought we would be safe there. My son was excited. He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, "Don't worry. They're fighting in the city. We're miles from harm." And the dust cleared, and the screaming stopped. It took me two days until I found their bodies. My father still holding my wife and son in his arms... And the Avengers? They went home. I knew I couldn't kill them. More powerful men than me have tried. But if I could get them to kill each other... I'm sorry about your father. He seemed a good man, with a dutiful son".

"Vengeance has consumed you. It's consuming them. I'm done letting it consume me". T'Challa retracted his claws on his suit and stated, "Justice will come soon enough".

"Tell that to the dead". Zemo quickly held out his gun and pointed it to his mouth but suddenly his hand was twisted at a very uncomfortable angle dropping the gun. Zemo's arm then looked like it was having a seizure as it twisted and forced him to turn his upper body around. Zemo tried to take control of his arm but it was pointless as he was then forced to stand up, turn around and stand as straight as pin with his arms at his side. T'Challa turned around to see a familiar young girl controlling Zemo's body.

*My POV*

Hearing his story made me feel angry. Bucky and I were happy before he ruined everything. Now because of him, he and I will be separated and the government will take me away and put me in some lab to be abused once again for my abilities while they imprison Bucky forever.

My eyes stared at Zemo with nothing but pure hatred as he looked at me with the same look that everyone gets when they realize they're the next victim of the Puppet Master.

Fear.

I moved him around side to side, then raised and lowered his body like he was stretching painfully until I slowly and torturously got him down onto his knees crying and begging like a sad, empty man. His cries and groans of agony were like music to me as my heart seem to grow cold as my powers were finally being used what they were meant to do be used for.

Something inside of me snapped as I wanted nothing more than to end his life right there for everything he's done. He didn't deserve to live, he murdered innocent lives, framed my hero and only person I looked up to almost like a brother maybe even father figure, and he's forced good people to fight against each other in order to make him happy for his family's death. I forced Zemo's upper body upward so that I could look into his eyes and he would look into mine, knowing that the last thing before I snapped his neck would be my eyes.

"Child, enough!" T'Challa's voice cried out firmly. I turned to Black Panther to finally see his face. I glared at him and almost went to blood bend him as well but before I could he told me, "The living are not done with him yet, he will get the proper justice. If you go through in killing him, how will you face Barnes knowing that the child he tried to keep innocent has murdered a man?" As I looked back into Zemo's eyes filled with fear I suddenly had a vision of Bucky.

All the memories we had together, him being so good to me and protecting me, raising me to almost the point where I would act like any normal 5 year old child.

I then released Zemo from my grip and collapsed onto my knees and sobbed softly. I then felt gentle arms bring me close and I was soon crying into a black vibranium suit.

It was all over. Zemo was taken back to Germany to face charges of murder and framing, the rest of Team Cap still had to face jail time for going against the Accords, Tony Stark and his team tried to make it on back to their normal lives, while Steve, Bucky and I were taken to a sacred place in Wakanda thanks to T'Challa.

T'Challa guided me to a room where Bucky and Steve were at and when I saw them, I immediately took notice that Bucky had lost most of his metal arm and only a stub of it was left and covered up with a black patch. I ran towards him and hugged Bucky as tears fell down my face. His human arm wrapped around me as tightly as he could and he leaned his head against mine kissing my hair.

"I leave you two alone for a bit". Steve said as he walked out of the room. I looked up at Bucky's metal limp and I asked him.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not really. How's your arm doing?"

"It's fine, Mr. T'Challa had some nurses put some medicine on it earlier". I looked down sadly and felt my tummy twist and turn with regret. I wanted to tell Bucky what I almost did to Zemo but I was afraid he'd get mad at me and never want to see me again. "Bucky, Zemo—I....."

"I know, T'Challa told me what happened," I looked down but I felt his human hand gently lift my chin up and he continued, "I know how badly you must've wanted to kill him. But I am so proud that you let him go and allowed true justice to catch up to him".

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not, in truth if all of this were the other way around focused on you, I'd probably beat the shit out of him myself too".

"Bucky no bad words around me!"

"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry". He rubbed my head softly and kissed it. After a while of silence I just had to ask him fearing of a gut instinct of what was going to happen now.

"What do we do now?" Bucky looked down sadly then he said.

"(Y/n), I talked with T'Challa and he's agreed to let you stay with him for a while here. I can't trust my own mind anymore, so until his doctors find a way to get this stuff out of my head—" he stopped wanting me to piece the rest together.

"You're going back under aren't you? No Bucky please you can't!"

"(Y/n) I have to, if someone else got a hold on how to bring back the Winter Soldier, they could use me to kill you, and if I ever awoke to see that I don't know what I'd do. I want you to be safe with T'Challa".

"All I need is you Bucky, please stay". Tears were forming in my eyes. The thought of losing Bucky broke my heart. He was the only one who truly understood what I went through having been through the same nightmare I did.

"Come here, I know". I softly sniffled into Bucky's right shoulder as his arm was wrapped around me. His thumb gently rubbing my back and his head leaning against mine. "I'm sorry baby, I have to do this". As I separated from him I said to him.

"Just promise me you'll come back. You have to promise!"

"Of course" Bucky said with a smile.

"And you won't forget me when you wake up, right?"

"Never. I could never bring myself to forget you. I want the first face I see when I wake up to be yours when the time comes". Bucky stated as he placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye with strength and love. He kissed my forehead and lingered there for a moment before separating due to Steve and a few doctors coming in.

"Mr. Barnes, it's time" said one of the doctors. Bucky looked down at me and smiled sadly then he stood up with me in his arm as he handed me over to Steve and walked with the doctors to a cryo-tube. He got in and as it closed, he looked at me and Steve with sad eyes and a smile.

I waved to him and he nodded back to me then closed his eyes peacefully as the ice formed over him until he was fully in a frozen sleep. I turned my head into Steve's neck and softly whimpered while Steve held onto me rubbing my back in comforting circles.

We then saw T'Challa looking out from the large window walls in the hallway and Steve said.

"Thank you".

"Your friend and my father, they were both victims, I'm glad I could help one find peace, and protect his most precious secret". T'Challa then turned to me and gently took me from Steve's arms and I was leaning against his.

"They'll come for him, both of them should they find out she's here too".

"Let them try". As we looked out I began to see from the thick fog, a rock formation of a large cat in the shape of a Panther.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x child reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #captain america civil war #fluff #angst

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swlbarnes · 7 years

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Invisible - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Okay so you guys apparently love newt scamander as much as I do which is great but I don’t actually have any newt oneshots on hand atm and i’m super duper busy so have this funny bucky oneshot instead that I just posted on my wattpad the other day

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

When you were 10 years old, your hometown was attacked. Aliens rained down from the skies and destroyed everyone and everything in their path and you narrowly escaped them by making a run for it and "luckily," you found a group of people who knew what they were doing. The only problem was, they knew what they were doing because they had planned it all.

You were soon shoved into the dark world of HYDRA, where you spent all of your time either in a cell or on a lab table. You were one of many that were brought to the labs that day, but you're also one of the few to survive. You had been injected with so many serums and put through so many tests that you weren't quite sure if there was any scrap of your old self left. At the young age of 16 you were sent off to begin your missions. Your brain fought against your body when you took your first shot, your true mind fighting and screaming and pounding inside of your skull. It drove you to the brink of insanity in a single day, and that's when the mind wipes started.

You were curled up in your cell, shivering and clutching at the roots of your hair as the pain radiated through your skull. You let out loud animal-like screams with each pulse of pain, which the HYDRA agents could not allow. They grabbed you by the arms and dragged you, kicking and screaming, to the chair. You were strapped in, and the process began.

Every mission after that with HYDRA was immediately followed by a mind wipe. Your conscience was far too strong to withstand the acts that they put you through for too long. And just like that, you became the perfect soldier. A ruthless, heartless killing machine that could take down a target without a second thought. You never really had a code name, the agents simply called you Project 270. They once had a full on debate about what your code name could be, but you never remembered that, of course.

Your life was a constant cycle of death and destruction, followed by a swift and painful memory wipe that would leave you broken and alone again and again. Your mind wasn't too loud anymore, it was too quiet. Your thoughts were virtually nonexistent, and even in your state as a puppet for HYDRA, you knew this was wrong. You knew that you weren't supposed to feel this way. You were going insane again, this time from the constant silence plaguing your mind.

Boy were you missing that silence. You sat on a large leather couch in the Avengers Tower, hands clamped over your ears as Tony ran around the house singing horrendously and blasting random songs through the speakers. Your face was steely and intense as you stared at the wall in front of you. He suddenly slid across the floor in his socks, directly in front of your face as he played air guitar to the solo blasting through the tower. A low growl rumbled out of your chest, and you launched yourself at the man. Tony let out a high pitched scream as you both fell to the ground.

"If you butcher one more song, then I swear to god I'll put one of Clint's arrows through your eye," you seethed, knowing your face was bright red with anger. Tony's eyes were wide as you glared down at him.

"FROSTYYYY! COME GET YOUR ATTACK DOG PARTNER OFF OF ME!" He yelled, smirking as you smacked his shoulder with a huff. Bucky's footsteps followed quickly after, finally reaching the room.

Bucky's urgent eyes found you two on the floor, and he sighed in exasperation as he realized the situation. You were sat on top of Tony, arms crossed over your chest. Bucky's muscles relaxed, and he ambled over to you slowly. "Tony, you can't do that to me. I thought you were serious, you almost gave me a heart attack," he muttered, kneeling down next to the two of you. You gave him a sad smile as you realized that he was afraid that you were having flashbacks to your HYDRA days again. He returned the smile before looking at Tony. "So what did you do this time, Stark?"

"I didn't do anything! I was just singing and dancing and they got all feisty!" Tony replied innocently. Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"Is that what you were doing? I thought you were torturing a cat or something. You might need a little work, buddy." Bucky patted Tony's shoulder in false sympathy before turning to you and smiling again. "C'mon, let's get out of here." With that he stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it and he helped to pull you up. He dusted off your shirt, turning and leading you by the hand out of the room.

"What's your plan?" he asked once you were out of earshot of Tony. You grinned, swinging your hands back and forth and basking in the feeling of the cool metal or his hand against your skin.

"I was thinking we could bust out the secret weapon for this one," you replied simply, tracing the lines on his arm as you walked down the hallway and to your shared room in the tower. He looked down at you with a loving smile, yet the concern was obvious in his eyes.

"(Y/N), are you sure? You've worked hard to keep that a secret. Are you sure you want everyone to know?" His voice was soft and he stopped walking, turning to you instead. You turned to look at him as well, laughing lightly.

"I know I have. Trust me, I know. I don't think I've ever tried so hard to keep a secret in my life. But I think it's time, you know? I've been on the team for two years now, I'm really getting the hang of normal life again, and I haven't had an episode in six months. I'm better, Buck. And I trust them. They deserve to know." Your voice was almost a whisper, looking into his deep blue eyes. He gave you a small, proud smile and pulled you into a hug, planting a kiss in your hair. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. "Plus it would scare the utter crap out of Tony, and that's something I want to see."

He pulled back with a smirk, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Then let's do this."

It was two days later, and everything was prepared. You got up as early as you could stand, knowing you could never get up before Tony. You opened your closet door as Bucky sat up groggily on the bed behind you. You pushed every article of clothing out of the way, digging around until you found the old dusty box in the back of the small space. Your hands grabbed onto the edges and pulled it out, opening the flaps and sucking in a breath as you laid eyes on the suit that you planned to put away for good. You sat on the ground staring at it for a moment, trying to slow your heart rate to its normal pace.

"Hey..." Bucky's voice came from behind you. "Listen, you don't have to do this, okay? I understand if it's too much, it can wait. We can come up with something else to do that'll scare Tony, you don't have to do this again." He sat down on your left (eyebrow wiggle) and rubbed your back soothingly.

You shook your head. "It's now or never." He smiled and nodded, getting up and walking over to his nightstand to look through some papers. You changed quickly, Bucky facing away from you and obviously itching to turn and see if you're okay. "You can turn around now, Buck." He turned and looked at you. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it once more with a gulp. You looked at the ground, face reddening with each passing second.

"W-wow... I-I don't really... know what to say... I just- wow..." He stuttered, making it very obvious that he was maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, looking down at the skin tight suit and adjusting the belt. It was solid black and very similar to the uniforms given out to SHIELD agents. The biggest difference between your suit and theirs was the capabilities. Their suits were just for general stealth and to maximize agility and flexibility. Yours was more than that: it had the ability to go invisible just as you did.

The serums that HYDRA injected you with over the years were more than useless alone, but as they mixed together within your bloodstream, the chemicals built up into a cross of the super soldier serum and an invisibility serum. The biggest issue with your abilities was that you weren't able to make objects invisible, so you were useless with normal clothing on. HYDRA developed the suit to allow you to use your abilities in the field. It wasn't something that you were particularly proud of, but you wanted to change that.

"Is that a good wow or a bad wow?"

"Good wow! Definitely good wow. Wow." You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, smiling.

"You're drooling, pretty boy," you teased. He snapped out of his state of shock and scowled at you. He looked down at the box, eyebrows furrowing when his eyes landed on the black mask inside. It was like his old mask, made to cover your nose and mouth. Bucky shook his head, grabbing the mask and tossing it in the trash. You grinned and he smiled back.

"No more of that. Let's go scare ourselves an Iron Man."

Turns out, scaring Tony isn't as hard as you thought. You allowed yourself to go invisible for the first time in a while, your skin tingling as it disappeared from sight. You tiptoed into the lab as Tony tinkered with an old suit hand. It sparked, causing him to jump back and mutter a string of curse words. You had to hold back your laughter as you made your way behind him, running your fingers along some of the items on his desk before finally knocking down a cup of pencils.

Tony's head shot up, eyes widening as they searched the room. "Pietro, if that was you, I swear to god I'll put hair dye in your shampoo!" He called, turning around to see behind him. You grinned, walking around him and letting your shoes scuff against the ground as you began breathing loud enough for him to hear. A breath caught in Tony's throat, his muscles tensing as he stayed completely still.

At that moment, Bucky walked in with a stack of papers in hand. His hair was messed up and he rubbed his eyes as if he was still trying to wake up. You knew he was completely awake, but Tony was smart. He knew that Bucky was able to sleep nowadays, and he would never get up this early and actually be completely awake. Bucky looked up, brushing a hand through his hair as he made his way over to Tony.

"Hey, Stark, I completely forgot about this mission report for the undercover op in Romania last week, and Fury was wanting it today. Could you help me out?" He muttered, rubbing his eyes as he held up the papers. There were a few lazy scribbles scrawled across the pages, but it was obviously far from finished.

"O-oh, yeah, whatever, sure," Tony stuttered, picking up his pencil cup and putting everything back inside. He set the bionic hand off to the side, swiveling his chair around to look at Bucky. Bucky pulled up his own chair, setting the forms down on the desk. "Okay, so what do you have so far?" You could tell that Tony was shaking off you previous actions, so you got ready to do a bit more.

"Well, I have the drop off point and the time of the drop off, along with a kinda sorta outline of the original plan. Do you think I need to elaborate on that any more?" Bucky pointed at each item on the paper, and Tony leaned forward to read it.

"I mean, you can, but it doesn't mean Fury will actually read i-"

You dropped a handful of bolts onto the ground, letting them hit the ground slowly. Both men looked in your direction at the sudden noise.

"What was that?" Bucky asked, false confusion lacing his words. Tony's face was horrified as he pointed at the bolts on the ground.

"That. How did those... There's no way those could fall like that, they were five feet away on a table!" His voice slowly got higher and higher in volume, and it took everything in your being to keep from letting out a chuckle. Bucky seemed to be having the same issue as he visibly fought to wipe the smile off of his face.

"Well, obviously that's not true, because there they are on the ground!" Bucky pointed out the obvious, taking a step towards the bolts spread out across the floor and gesturing to them with a wave of his hand. Tony scoffed.

"Shut it, frosty! I know where I put those bolts, and I put them right in the middle of that table over there!" The billionaire exclaimed. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and his eyes darted around the room as he leaned towards Bucky. Bucky leaned in as well, prepared to listen. "Bucky... I think this place is haunted..."

You slapped a hand over your mouth to suppress your laughter, and it much to your surprise Bucky was able to maintain a straight face as he looked at Tony with a serious gaze. "I think you're right," Bucky agreed quietly. "So, what do we do?"

It was getting harder and harder each second to keep up your little charade. This had taken a turn that neither of you had expected, and at this point everything was improv. You knew you couldn't keep this up much longer, and when the time finally came that a snort of laughter escaped your nose, Tony whirled around on his heels faster than you could register it.

"What was that?" He shouted, reaching out and snatching a large metal pole from the table in front of him. Bucky raised an eyebrow from behind him, a small smirk on his face.

"I think it was the ghost..." The metal armed super soldier whispered. Tony's face paled, and he gripped the pole tighter and tighter until the skin on his knuckles threatened to tear.

You tip toed around the pair and walked up next to Bucky. You waved your hand near him to cast a slight breeze in his direction. His eyes flickered in your direction, and you carefully placed your hand on his arm to let him know you were there. His lips curved upwards ever so slightly, but he remained silent.

You took one more step towards Tony, carefully leaning in and placing your lips right next to his ear. "Tony..." You whispered softly, your breath barely ghosting over his ear. The engineer let out a petrified screech and swung his arm behind him in retaliation. You jumped back just in time to feel the wind from his swing rushing past you.

You and Bucky both could no longer keep up the charade. The two of you threw your heads back as bouts of laughter took over your bodies. Tony froze in place, his eyes shifting around the room warily.

"Wait, wh-what?" He stuttered out in disbelief. Bucky began to compose himself and wiped a finger underneath his eye to catch a falling tear.

"You're not haunted, Tony," he told the man in amusement. Tony's brows furrowed, and Bucky looked over in your direction. "Alright, the gig is up. Come on out, doll," he called to you.

You focused on making yourself visible once again, and slowly you began to appear once more. Tony's eyes grew wide in realization, and his jaw dropped with shock.

"No," he muttered. "No, that's not possible!" He was shouting now, and he hurriedly rushed forwards to inspect your suit. He snatched your arm from your side and scanned over the fabric for answers. "How did you do that?"

You rolled your eyes and tugged your arm out of Stark's grasp. "Well, it wasn't the suit, so give that back," you scolded. He blinked up at you and took a step back.

"Sorry, it's just... Invisibility isn't possible! Even from a superhuman standpoint, it's scientifically impossible for you to be able to be invisible. You would go completely blind! The light reflecting off of objects can't hit your eyes!" He rambled, waving his hands around wildly. Truthfully, you had never seen the genius billionaire so frazzled. It simply wasn't like him to be this way.

You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged. "That's what I thought, but here I am," you commented passively.

Tony continued to stare at you in awe for a few silent moments. Bucky shifted his gaze back and forth between the two of you, ready to step in just in case Tony got defensive over the discovery this information.

Surprisingly for the both of you, Tony straightened up moments later. He cleared his throat and turned on his heel to walk back to his lab station. "Good to know you've got something on your side then, kid," he replied in a nonchalant tone. You huffed and rolled your eyes, knowing that this wasn't anything close to what was happening in his mind at that moment.

Bucky chuckled and made his way to your side, taking your hand in his own and leading you towards the door. You both stopped and turned when Tony called your name.

"Yes?" You acknowledged.

"Would you mind if I did some tests on your little super suit to figure out how it works?" This was more of a statement than a question in his mind, but you were still reluctant to agree.

You let out a chuckle. "I'll think about it."

With that being said, both you and Bucky made your way into the kitchen to eat breakfast and watch the sun rise. You made a few comments about how cheesy your situation was, what with watching the sunrise together and all, but you truthfully could never be happier.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #captain america

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iamsarsa · 7 years

Text

Untitled Fic.

Setting up my OC for Stormblood. Thancred/OC, past Haurchefant/OC mentioned. I couldn’t for the life of me, figure out a good ending line to this. I still feel like its awkward but oh well.

It was surprisingly easy to find her - she was in the first place Thancred looked. He knew that her Inn room would be empty, she didn't have many things stashed there and he knew she preferred to travel light anyway. No, he knew where she would be and despite the cold, he made his way to Camp Dragonhead to inquire. While he had made the trek to Dragonhead once or twice, he had never gone... there, where he knew she would be, most assuredly alone. It only took a few words with Emmanellain to find out the exact location, and he set out in the cold despite the chill settling into his bones. Coerthas was a far cry from the warmth of Ul'dah, and today in particular the wind seemed to have a particular bite too it. To distract himself, he mulled over the encounter that led to this possible fool's errand - an encounter from what he had thought was the least likely person to tattle on Selphie. "She wants to leave." Thancred glanced up from his near empty mug, raising an eyebrow at 129A, "She wants to what now?" She stood next to him, rigid, those odd red eyes boring into him and repeated herself, "Selphie wishes to leave Eorzea. She is planning to travel with Yugiri and Gotetsu to Doma." Thancred let out a laugh, "Well, if she wishes to help - I think Doma would do her well, although you need to be sure she doesn't get in her head to study the art of the samurai, I don't think she'd do well with such a weapon." 129A shook her head, almost patronizingly as though she were trying to talk to a very small child, "I was not finished. She intends on leaving the Scions, and..." she stops for a moment, searching for the right word, "She wishes to leave everyone behind. She intends on disappearing and hoping you all take her for dead." Her bluntness startled him, and he could only look at her in confusion trying to make sense of what she had said, "So what you're saying is... she intends on faking her death? What kind of nonse-" She interrupted, "She intends on disappearing and letting you fill in the blanks. She thinks it will be better this way, and I do not have the ability to convince her otherwise." That sparks anger in him, and he slams his drink down, "Letting us 'fill in the blanks'? What in seven hells does that mean? What in god's name is she thinking?" 129A offers him a shrug, "I do not know. She is not thinking logically, I agree, it is why I came to you." she stops herself, an odd look of confusion spreading across her usually stoic face, "I do not wish to leave the Scions, and I think perhaps she does not either. But I think her emotions are overriding her senses, and I do not have the capacity to reason with her. I do not understand the feelings she has in regards to all of you, she says it is what is "best to protect you all" - and I am unable to understand her reasoning." Thancred lets out a sigh, reaching a hand up to rub his forehead, "No, it's alright... I can guess why she'd be acting like this. I'll talk with her," he looks at 129A... no, Aea, curiously, "Thank you for telling me." "You're... welcome. I hope you can help her." By the time he finally reached Providence Point he felt like he had become one giant ice block, and for one brief second he thought this journey had all been in vain - and that she wouldn't be there; she was already halfway to Doma and he had already lost her. But he saw her, sitting in the snow, one knee up and her head resting on it, her tail curled protectively around her shivering body. In one hand was a bottle, and scattered around her were empty ones. He cringed, noting the snow that had begun to pile up on not only the bottles, but also on her frail frame. And then... in front of her was the memorial, his memorial - the man he only really knew of as a ghost that his lover had once loved and that had given his life to save her. He could hear her mumbling to herself, punctuated only by the occasional choked sob that was forced back with a swift drink from her bottle. Not wanting to frighten her, he walked up slowly before kneeling beside her to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You really should consider warmer clothes when you come here, my love." She jumped, falling backwards into the cold snow, her eyes looking at him with a wild and surprised look. "Thancred?!" Her eyes faded from surprise to one of guilt, "What... what are you doing here?" He sat down beside her, taking the bottle she held and taking a swig out of it before speaking, "A little bird told me you'd be here, before you left on your journey." "Oh, right... yeah, I'll be leaving for Doma. I just wanted to pay um, my respects and all that before we left with Yugiri." He looked at her, taking another drink before speaking, "But you weren't planning on saying goodbye to the living?" She looked at him, her expression turning to one of hurt and it stung him to see. But he didn't regret the words, after all... it was true, wasn't it? Besides, it hurt him having to hear from Aea that what Selphie's intentions were. He loved her, and it hurt to know she didn't feel she could come to him to talk - that she felt it better if she disappeared from his memory as thought it would be easy to forget the love of his life. "N-no, I..." "Selphie, please do not lie to me. I did not walk in this godforsaken weather to be lied too." She took a deep breath, grabbing the bottle away from him and taking a deep drink. It was quiet, the only sound was the wind blowing past them as the snow began to drift down in larger and larger flakes. "It's better this way." her words were so soft they were almost swallowed by the swirling winds of Coerthas and he struggled to hear her quiet admission. "Have you told yourself that so much that you've actually begun to believe it? Or do you know that you're lying to yourself every time you say it?" he looked at her with a mixture of bemusement and annoyance at her cliched answer. "I'm not lying, dammit!" Her eyes flashed with anger, but behind the anger he could sense the anguish behind her voice, "Do you really think it's safe for us to be here? To be with the Scions? Do you think it's so great to parade me around as a Warrior of Light when I am a weapon created by the enemy?" she let out a bitter laugh, "Yeah, tell me how well that'll go over with Eorzeans when they find that out. I'm sure that Nero bastard will make that happen sooner rather then later. And then what? Will you be able to stop both the Garleans from forcefully taking Aea and I back? Or will you just let the people of Eorzea pass their judgement on us?" "It's not the people who chose you as the Wa-" She cut him off, "Oh yes, it was Hydaelyn! That makes it all better, that will make the people understand. That will give them pause to think rationally when they find out their supposed hero is nothing more then a mechanical puppet that can be ready to help invade at the switch of a button." She gave him a harsh glare, taking another swig of her drink and daring him to speak. "So, then you have it all figured out then?" he asked quietly. "No, I never said I had it figured out. But, I'm not going to let anyone else die. I'm not... I don't want anymore stupid sacrifices. Enough people have died, Thancred. I don't want to see anyone else I care for die because they believe in what I may or may not be able to accomplish." This is what made him explode with anger, grabbing the bottle from her hands and throwing it aside, ignoring her protests of seeing her alcohol spilled, and grabbing her by the shoulders, "Do you think you are the only one to have lost someone!? Do you think you are the only one afraid of losing what means the most to them?!" His voice was strong, but beneath it was the wavering fear of truly losing her, just as he had lost Minfilia. He looked at her, his shoulders heaving from his outburst, the swirling emotions filling him and making him shake, and he studied her face, becoming frustrated by the empty look she was giving him. He felt his eyes burn, and wasn't sure if it was the blinding snow, or tears threatening to come out. His voice softened however as he spoke again, "You are not the only one to have lost loved ones... we all have, Selphie. But we must carry on in their memory, or what will have they have sacrificed themselves for?" She was quiet, staring up at him with empty eyes, and he noticed she wasn't wearing the patch that normally covered her whitened eye and he became aware of just how light she felt in his arms, and he wondered if she had been taking care of herself... if she had been bothering to keep up with her aether treatments. Or if she had allowed herself to subsist only on a liquid diet... "I'm just... so tired..." she murmered finally, turning her head to face the plaque and shield left behind as Haurchefant's memorial. She went quiet again for a moment, studying the broken and battered shield bearing the Fortemp's sigil. But her face soon began to crumple and tears started to make their way down her face, "I'm so scared and tired... all I know is running, don't you see? All I know is running... I told you that from the beginning. I ran back then, and I'm running now. Because it's the only way I know." He felt her body collapse against his, and he pressed her sobbing body against his, wrapping his arms tightly around her. What she had said was true - it was only a matter of time before her, and Aea's past came to light. But it hurt him to see just how little she thought of her accomplishments... it hurt to see that she couldn't tell she had forged her own path, one that was far removed from the path her creaters had set her on. "I couldn't... protect Haurchefant. I couldn't protect Aea. They believed in me, Thancred. More then anyone else, they believed in...in me, and I couldn't protect them. Th-they died thinking that I was something to believe in. There were times that I thought I could, that I could protect everyone... that I was invincible. But I'm not... I'm not and neither is anyone I love. I'm scared, I don't want to lose anyone else." He held her close, his head resting on the top of hers, his hand gently brushing the snow off her pale lavender hair, "So in your quest to not lose anyone else... you choose to lose them on your own terms? Selphie you've come up with some admittedly odd plans in the past, but this one is truly absurd. Running is not all you know, far from it... I've seen you stand up against the odds before, even worse odds. You're not a runner... you're a fighter. You've been fighting to make your own path your whole life." Her tears had slowly begun to subside, but she still clung to him, and he could still feel her body trembling in his arms. "Please... just come home with me," he whispered into her ears, "I don't want to lose you... I don't want you to leave me. And I don't want to leave you - I would fight the whole of the Garlean army to have you stay by my side. I would defend you from all of Eorzea-" “Don't say that... you'd be slaughtered. And don't say that your love would protect you. It didn't... it didn't protect him." Thancred was quiet for a moment, taking a moment to look at Haurchefant's broken shield. In his mind it served as a symbol of the lengths the man had gone to protect the woman both of them had loved, but to her... he supposed it served only as a symbol of death, "No... but his love protected you, did it not?" He held her tighter in his arms, "You think you are not worth the love others bestow upon you... and I'm telling you that you are." He pulled away slightly, using a hand to turn her face up so she was looking at him, "I first met you far before you were ever the Warrior of Light, when you were just a ruffian on the streets of Ul'dah, stealing riches and giving it the poor, and I'm telling you that you are worth it. You have always been worth protecting, there is good inside of you." "But what if-" "Stop worrying about the what if's for once," he brought her face to his, kissing her gently, "Let yourself rely on others... don't close yourself off to others who care about you just as much as you care about them. No one expects you to figure things out on your own."She sighed, leaning her head against his chest in defeat, "Alright... I get it. I won't, I won't leave. I mean, I'm still going to Doma but I won't-" "Fake your own death and leave me devastated?" She offered him up a grumpy stare, "I wasn't going to fake my own death... I was just gonna, y'know, disappear, and let you-" "Fill in the blanks, yes, I know. And I would've assumed the worst, and would've been heartbroken." He smiled at her, kissing her forehead, "But you're not doing that, so it's alright." A voice broke out behind them, "We're staying then, with the Scions?" They both looked up startled, peering through the thickening snowfall as 129A's form emerged, thankfully holding two blankets. "Aea? What are you doing here?" Selphie pushed herself up from the cold ground, gratefully taking one of the blankets. "I followed Thancred to assure all went well with you two," She looked at them carefully, "And I am making a guess based off your conversation, that we will not be leaving the Scions and faking our deaths?" Selphie let out a frustrated groan, "We were never going to fake our deaths, okay? We were just gonna slip off into the night, never to be seen again." 129A simply stared at her, and then gave a half shrug, as if to say "Alright, if that's what you tell yourself." "Wait," Selphie paused, and looked at the other girl carefully, studying her before turning to Thancred, "She was the one who told you right? I mean she had to be, I didn't tell anyone else." Thancred nodded, "She did, why?" Selphie turned back to stare at 129A, who simply stared back not betraying any sort of emotion on her face, "Well, it's just... why did you tell him?" "I did not wish to leave." "Yeah but, you didn't have to you know - come with. You could've said no." 129A shook her head, "I am unable to disobey orders from any S-Type model." Selphie looked at her, then began to laugh, "S-so wait, you're telling me... you're telling me, you tattled on me to Thancred, so he would get me to give up my plans?" "That is correct." Selphie began to laugh harder, and Thancred glanced at her, confusion written on his face, looking for an explanation for her sudden laughing outburst, "Oh...oh man, that's, that's GREAT... you, you did something totally and utterly selfish! You did something for your own interests instead of just blindly following me!" 129A shifted on her feet, looking for once... slightly uncomfortable, "Your plan was not a logical one I only wished for you to see that, I-" Selphie clapped a hand on the other girl's shoulder, shaking her head, "No, no... Aea, it's a good thing. You need to be a little selfish sometimes, you need to learn it's okay to say no to me, cos sometimes it's for my own good." she smiled gently at her, "I'm proud of you." 129A turned from her,ignoring what she had said and instead looked back towards the path to Camp Dragonhead, "We should head back, Thancred looks like he needs to be warmed immediately." Selphie glanced at Thancred who was in fact shivering heavily despite the blanket, "You're right, let's head back,” she said with a small sigh. As Selphie and Thancred began to walk down the winding snow covered hill, 129A lagged behind, taking a moment to glance at Haurchefant's memorial. "Selfish..." she thought for a moment, thinking back to why she had told Thancred... it had been in part due the stress and sadness she had sensed coming from Selphie - while she wasn't able to place these emotions in herself, she knew that it meant the other girl was in distress. But there had been that other feeling... and that had been the overriding factor that led to her going to Thancred. She truly hadn't wanted to leave behind the Scions, she had grown to enjoy the missions given, the order it had given her new life. So she had gone to Thancred in the hopes that he would stop Selphie from going through with her plan, if only so they would continue to work the Scions. "Self...ish." She repeated the word... perhaps that was what that odd feeling was. The feeling that had nothing to do with her feelings towards protecting Selphie. "Aea! Are you coming or not?" Selphie's voice rang out from the bottom of the hill, "Hurry up! I think Thancred's getting frostbite and he's getting awfully cranky." 129A nodded, and began to run down the hill to catch up. Yes, perhaps she had been selfish... and it hadn't caused her to malfunction... the thought gave her an odd sense of satisfaction that she was not yet used too.

#ffxiv #thancred/oc #ffxiv: selphie #ffxiv fic

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adventk-blog · 7 years

Photo

— ARE YOU WHO YOU WANT TO BE,

introducing BAE SUJI, a MUTANT, under the moniker of SUZY — and currently a believer of CO-EXISTENCE. age ( twenty-four ) and gifted with the ability of ILLUSION MANIPULATION, they are currently working as a PSYCHIATRIST.

WE ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN STORIES,

Existence

It was the way the girl with the big heart viewed life; a source of energy as delicate as a baby canary, just learning the outside world from the nest. It was the way she believed in it, the power life unknowingly holds; the same energy that allows the moon’s gravitational pull to make the tides dance and sing at her will. And it was the way this outlook on life changed, that made the girl the way she is today

Loss

She was born and bred in tragedy. A mother, too weak to give birth to her without a price for present, and a father of high importance, a usually cold man with family being his only weakness. He promised to save their precious baby girl, if the love of his life couldn’t be saved. Her mother, aware of the outcome, selfishly decided to trade the life of her own for the life of her daughter, leaving her husband to take on the job of both parents.

Growing up with only a father and herself had many challenges of their own, but at the end of the day, they were all each other had. The man, only knowing himself as family before meeting a woman who would change his whole perspective on it, had to love and care for something so small, so delicate all by himself. The cold businessman, a well-respected figure, and a beautiful baby girl, whose smile melted the ice around his cold heart, gradually.

“What a dream.” He thought, as he tucked his young daughter into bed.

Who would’ve though it all would change as she grew older?

Perfection

There was no room for anything less, and she was going to learn it, no matter the method.

Suji grew up to be nothing like the father she knew and loved, but instead possessing the qualities of the mother she never knew. She was amicable, meek, and charming. Her buoyant character was never ignored, even at a humble age. She had potential to many friends, a father she loved and adored, and a beautiful childhood like most would dream of having. But it’s a cruel world, and her father wanted to shield his precious and only child from it.

“Break time is over.”

“You can’t even spell a word as easy as this?”

“Sit up straight, girl.”

Oh, were those the nicest words that had ever graced those ears of hers from her father. Being subject to growing up prim and proper was less than desirable. Fun and games were limited to none. There were the educators but no fellow pupils to confine into. Her home had become her prison the moment she entered grade school. He drilled those ugly little lies into her head. But it was for her own good.

“Remember, girl. The only friends you have in this world is me, and those torn books.”

All she could do was nod, he was right. He was always right.

Dreaming

His face, more and more distinct as she grew older. Almost a blur to her as the young girl had grown up to be a beautiful young woman. A prisoner in her room with only her creative mind keeping her afloat, she began to imagine the ideal life. Dotting father, Caring Mother, maybe even a sibling or two. The life she imagined was so vivid and awe inspiring to the point where it felt real.

The young girl’s imagination brought the things to life that were unattainable in the real world for her. From a successful ballet recital to the first snowfall in Paris, she imagined it all, and lived through it. Thanks to her extensive book collection, it wasn’t hard for her to do.

But it wasn’t real. None of it. But oh, it most certainly did feel real.

It seems as if all her illusions disappeared the moment the ending became a happy one.

THERE IS FLESH AND BLOOD BEHIND THESE TALES,

She

The shadows were to stranger to her, as long as she could remember. They were what the girl could always confine into. The many shapes and symbols with a slight of hand, slightly bigger and imperceptible against the eminence painted walls. It was something she could control, and give circumstance to.

Puppet master, now that isn’t so bad.

Suji is no different than those wonderful subtle shadows. There’s a certain mystery always surrounding her. The girl never seems to step out her zone of comfort, nor does she desire to. The soft-spoken girl, almost always observant and tranquil, even in the middle of pure and utter chaos.

Although intelligent as can be, Suji seems to lack in thinking ahead. She trusts her gut feeling more than her logic, and trusts what her heart feels more than what her mind says, which branches from the fearless aspect of her personality. There is no bad in any given situation to her, even in the midst of danger. Many people question the girl’s sanity, or wonder if Suji even feels any other emotion because of her default exterior, which she doesn’t mind.

Her frustration or anger are hidden in the safety of solitude. Suji feels as though any sign of emotion is weakness which is why she often hides her true self. There’s more that meets the eye to “The girl of the shadows”. Fragments of her personality from the childhood she once had remains. Somewhere deep inside lies the innocent girl; amicable, meek, and charming. Yet, only a select few know what lies beyond the layers of Suji and she plans on keeping it that way.

AND EVEN MONSTERS CAN LEARN TO WEEP.

Illusion manipulation- Suji can create, shape and manipulate illusions, causing targets to see, hear, touch, smell, feel and/or taste things which do not actually exist or cause them to perceive things differently from what they truly are. Suji can create complex and detailed worlds, or alter the way that herself or the target is perceived. Her illusions can be based off the target’s deepest thoughts or an illusion of their own. Depending on the intensity of their illusions, they could even deteriorate a person’s mental health. APPLICATIONS :

Time Stretch Illusion – Suji has the the ability to make minutes outside of an illusion feel like several minutes to hours inside of the illusions.

Pain Illusion – This gives Suji the ability to trick an individual’s mind into thinking they are in physical pain. This proves useful for Suji when she is in immediate danger and has to act fast.

Mind Image Reading – Suji has the ability to read the minds of others, but they only show up to the her as “pictures”. This is a fairly new development for Suji, but can prove to be useful sometimes. She must use their imagination to piece together the stories told by the images.

Illusive Appearance – This gives her the ability to alter her their appearance by the use of illusions, appearing as anything or anyone she wants to.

LIMITATIONS :

The moment her opponent is aware of the illusion being bestowed onto them, it wears off completely until she can conjure up enough mental strength to create another illusion.

As of now, It could take hours depending on how vast and complex her illusions are for her to regain the mental strength she needs to be able to bestow another one onto a target.

There’s a chance of her target’s ability to clash with hers. If the target has a mental ability as does she, it proves a challenge to be able to bestow an illusion onto them. It causes more of a mental strain, thus increasing her charge up time.

If she plans on using her ability, the target(s) must be in her eyesight for the initial pull.

Her illusions are not perfect. The image-based illusions are based mostly off of memory, so there is a chance the target could sense something is wrong and shake the illusion off.

As of now, Suji can pull 5 beings at a time into a group illusion and only 3 into separate illusions at the same time. Both require all of her concentration, thus leaving her unable to protect herself and vulnerable.

Her most complex illusions (i.e whole worlds) only last up to 3 minutes for now.

The use of her ability can even cause Suji to lose a piece of her mental health as well. Her mental health will continue to be her greatest risk as she continues to use the ability, it has been deteriorating since she first discovered the ability in her late teens.

In order to see the images in a person’s mind to shape illusions personal to the target, Suji must make eye contact.

THREAT LEVEL TWO. 03+ BRWN, 04+ RSLNC, 06+ INTLCT, 03+ WLLPWR, 04+ FGHTNG, 04+ SPD

#avt: follow #krp #kpop rp #bae suji #tw: death #tw: manipulation #tw: child mistreatment

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[FN] Father and Son

u/reverendrambo: The Chosen One was defeated, but not killed. As punishment, he/she must live among their peers, tormented with the shame of letting them down.

My father was an important man. A powerful man that many looked up to and worshiped. But apparently he felt that he wasn’t being worshiped enough, because he was always jealous of the ruler of the other place. The other man felt the same way, so they made an agreement: the two would battle for the right to rule everything.

Despite what others say, my father and his opponent aren't opposites but are remarkably similar. They’re both cunning, secretive, deceptive, and most importantly, egotistical. Seeing how alike they are, it should be no surprise that they came up with the same idea of using their children to do their dirty work for them.

My followers and my brother’s followers have a tendency to sugarcoat our fathers’ actions. For instance, they call the rape of my mother a “blessing” or her being “chosen,” but make no mistake, it was rape. To this day I still don’t know why my father and my brother’s father chose the same woman. Maybe they wanted only one person to have to suffer (although I doubt this “generous” interpretation), or maybe one of them wanted to play mind games.

Can you imagine what it’s like to have to be enemies with your twin? The memory of seeing him from across the battlefield is still burned into my mind. A man and his dark reflection, except I couldn’t tell which I was. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After our poor mother gave birth to us, we were both adopted into different families and wouldn’t meet again until that day on the battlefield. I lived a fairly normal childhood filled with cartoons, toys, holidays, and vacations. Like most adopted children, I always wondered where I came from and how my life would’ve been if my parents had kept me. Little did I know that I wouldn’t have a say in the matter, and my father fully intended to claim me as his.

The week before my bar mitzvah, I had a dream about my father. I’ve always grown up hearing about him, but I wasn’t really religious enough to give him any thought. Truthfully, I was scared of him. The stories about his wrath and treacherous ways always terrified me, but this fear vanished after the dream.

In the dream, there was a handsome muscular man leading his army of winged soldiers, and there was something familiar about this man. With a start, I realized he shared a resemblance to me.

This man’s voice echoed as he talked, and I could tell that his soldiers feared him and respected him. This man was the one I had grown up hearing about, but he had no trace of angry or evil in his eyes. He was about to head into battle, but all I could see was a calm leader, ready for anything. I would have given anything to be like him back then.

I left home, and without any assistance, was able to find my father’s home. Not his real one obviously, but close enough. Once I performed a couple of miracles for the followers, they were ecstatic. They cried at my feet and praised my father and me. I was only a child, but adults- the same ones who were supposed to lecture me, punish me, look down on me- were worshiping me. I had found power.

The night of my 13th birthday, I had the dream again, except it kept going. I saw my father’s horrible struggle as he fought in Heaven.The golden blood of angels and demons dripped from their bodies, hitting the ground like raindrops. Flaming swords cut the wings of unsuspecting soldiers, causing them to fall and scream in pain. The smell of smoke was thick in the air.

I saw my father and his opponent fight viciously with their blades, and after their weapons were shattered, with their fists. They were the most powerful men in the world, but I felt none of their authority as they clawed each other with their nails, tumbling on the ground like wrestling adolescents, not war generals. As father and son battled, I felt the fear for the first time. The fear that I would follow my father’s footsteps and be forced to continue this pointless fight for him.

I kept a low profile for the years that followed, and traveled around the world to perform miracles and recruit followers. My brother was doing the same thing, but we never crossed paths. I always made sure to never go where he went, and I’m positive he did the same. My father- in the few times we would communicate- would always warn me to never get close to my brother, that he would whisper lies into my ears and betray me. My father was a liar himself, but I followed his advice and stayed cautious.

I was around 30 when it finally happened. Cases of a virus were being reported around the world, a virus that was managing to kill millions. It got so bad that people were ordered to stay at home, and wear masks if they went outside. I knew this was the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, and that my true task had begun.

I went to hospitals and showed the world the miracles I’ve been keeping hidden for years. I healed the sick, I gave faith to nonbelievers, and I even managed to raise the dead. People were begging to join my cause, and suddenly my small group of followers became an army at my command. The only reason the world didn’t bow at my feet was because of my brother, who once again was doing the same thing.

It was the first time I really hated him. I always knew that we were destined to be enemies, but I’ve never felt this jealousy and rage before then. Instead of turning to me, there were millions that said my brother was the chosen one and I was the false prophet. I wanted to burn them alive, flood them, torture them and their families in excruciating ways. I guess you could say the forbidden fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.

My brother and I had our war, but we never fought ourselves. That was going to happen later. Our followers were the ones who bled for us. The first time I heard reports of fallen troops, I felt a tremendous sadness for not being able to aid them, not being able to revive their bodies, too torn to pieces in battle. But as the war went on, this sadness melted, and as their body count increased, so did my frustration. They were tools under my disposal, how dare they die uselessly! Instead of mourning them, I felt like spitting on their graves and cursing them for not being better.

Food became harder and harder to come by, and I did my best with my miracles to feed my followers, but even my powers weren’t enough. Many had to resort to cannibalism, eating enemies or even their friends and children if they had to. I punished my followers if they turned against each other, but I turned a blind eye to them eating enemies. I reasoned that not doing so would’ve been a waste.

I never engaged in the eating of human flesh myself, but I could feel every soul cry out as their bodies were bitten into. They couldn’t feel the teeth marks, but their souls still felt tarnished by the abuse of their corpses. The ghosts looked at me, not in anger but more in confusion of how I could let this happen to them. I had no answer.

One day, my soldiers told me that the opposition’s leader wanted to meet with me, face-to-face. The conditions were that we would call off our soldiers, and meet in the middle of the battlefield, far away from each of our camps. We were allowed to bring twelve of our guards, but no more than twelve.

I heard my father’s voice in my head- couldn’t be sure if it was real or imagined- telling me to not trust my brother. That he would use this to betray me. I don’t know if it was arrogance or loneliness, but I accepted to his terms and left for the battlefield.

As I walked out of the camp with my men, I thought about what I would say to him. Would we talk about our lives and how we ended up where we were? About our overbearing fathers, who viewed us as puppets instead of children? Or would we be like them and declare each other enemies and fight for an eternity? Whatever was fated to happen, I was determined to see it through.

When I reached the battlefield and saw him, a flush of memories hit me at once. I remembered my parents who loved and supported me, who I had tossed away immediately once I learned who I really was. Parents who might have been dead at this point. My simple life as a regular child, my friends who viewed me as an equal instead of their king. That world was gone now and replaced with blood and ash. And it was our fault.

I wanted to cry out to my brother and beg him to stop this war. We didn’t need to fight, we didn’t need to be our fathers’ sons. Instead of being mortal enemies, we could be brothers and bring back that world I had almost forgotten. Before I could say any of these things, I heard an explosion behind me.

I turned around with my men and saw my camp burning in flames. I felt the souls of my followers scream as they burned alive, their voices hitting me like a volley of arrows. Distracted by the screeching of my followers, I didn’t even notice the war cries of my guard. Fearlessly they charged at my brother and his men.

I didn’t see them fight, but once I heard their voices join the phantom choir, I knew that they had fallen as well. I made no resistance as I felt my brother’s knife plunge into my back.

After my death, I was greeted by a winged figure grinning cruelly at me. He called me “Prince” sarcastically and shoved me roughly down the stairs. It was so dark and I kept tripping over the steps, but the winged figure didn’t care. Their response was to kick me until I stood on my own and continued to walk down.

Mercifully, we reached the end of the stairs. There was a door, and I could see light spilling out from it. I was glad about leaving the darkness at first, but then my tormentor laughed. They opened the door, and I was blinded by a room filled with fire. Before I could shield my eyes, my tormentor threw me in and locked the door.

My soul is in constant pain from this fire, but this is still more bearable than their voices. My followers scream in their own prisons and ask how I could fail them, how I could betray their faith. As I’m trapped in this room, doomed to forever burn while hearing my followers curse me, my only solace lies in the fact that my father will one day join me when he loses the war. It’s about time father and son had a little chat.

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