#his second in command his most efficient recruiter who believed in him who left the cause as soon as it became clear they would lose

[buffyspeak]

the lightwood siblings are literally like. "what if three siblings who genuinely love and would die for each other lash out with the cruelest thing they can think to say when hurt because none of them ever learned proper emotional regulation or communication skills" and that's SO real of them. tbh.

(notably they're all pretty good at/about apologizing when it's called for)

#sorry to exclude max from this but the show did it first #he is simply not around enough to be part of this dynamic #shadowhunters #the lightwood siblings #the lightwoods #do you ever think about how valentine sent jace to MARYSE. TO MARYSE!!! #his second in command his most efficient recruiter who believed in him who left the cause as soon as it became clear they would lose #bc she is first and foremost a Survivor #because he said he sent jace to people he knew would take care of him #screaming crying throwing up. actually #bc that led jace to his siblings!!!!! #like valentine sucks obvi but. wowza there is a lot to unpack there #people might disagree about izzy #but i am thinking about “i'm not your baby sister anymore alec i don't need you to protect me” or something along those lines #and hears the thing #maybe that doesn't SOUND cruel #but she's taling to alec #who knows really well and is a big brother who needs to be needed through and through #she said the cruelest thing to not just anyone BUT TO /HIM SPECIFICALLY/ bc that's how well she knows him #anyway. this is not a hate post. legitimatley i'm so obsessed with all of them

[rocketzealot]

PERFORMANCE REVIEW Pt 2

“It is as Executive Petrel says,” she said, voice deep and coarse, with much restraint. “We have long been considering your position in Team Rocket, as you well know. The truth is, we are always short on Agents, and once we promote grunts to fill those positions we become short on grunts. That is why people like you are so important. Do you understand?”

Fred replied with a clipped “yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Team Rocket has mercifully decided not to demote you. Giovanni does not believe in waste, and nor do I. But we also do not tolerate underperformance.” She spoke with a little more vigour, cold green eyes twisting the knife into Fred as he flicked his vision back in her direction.

“As such,” she continued, voice becoming calmer and quieter once again, “we have arranged somewhat of a reshuffle in your duties. Elite Agent Wyatt has informed me that despite your lacklustre numbers, you are a positive representative of the Rocket brand. You will continue to recruit in your own time, more specifically when you are given days without orders. You will be expected to convene with potential recruits as long as you are sleeping under Giovanni’s roof. However, we have agreed that you would be made more useful if you were given more focussed missions.”

Fred listened in carefully, finding himself looking more and more at the Elite Agent, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he leant forward. This seemed to be a life ring… perhaps the last one he would get. To think… almost nothing would change… he had gotten away with—

“In addition to this, we will be assigning you a partner, with a view that he will provide you with much needed focus and motivation during missions. Although he is newly promoted, he is one of our most efficient and obedient Agents, and comes with a plethora of skills that I think it would be generous to say that you could not hope to possess. Although I don’t expect the pair of you to be as friendly as some of our Agents, I expect you to become a unit quickly. No arguments.”

Oh. Well, that wasn’t really so bad. The best Agents came in twos! Butch and Cassidy, Atilla and Hun, Annie and Oakley… Perhaps Fred and his new partner would be just like them. The woman opposite him stared him down intensely. A biro had appeared in her hand whilst Fred had been daydreaming about being famous in the halls of the Rocket base. It was as if she was preparing to record his reaction, especially given her request for no arguments. Fred was in no position to argue. Agent Wyatt had moved behind him to the door. An eyebrow quirked on the face of the Agent whose name he could not remember as she saw the beginnings of an optimistic smile begin to creep onto Fred’s face.

“Very well, invite him in, Lee.” 

Like a school child turning to see who their new classmate would be, with that fizzy mix of apprehension and excitement, Fred shifted in his seat, feet moved around in readiness to get up and shake the hand of his new partner.

Yet his blood froze.

“I believe you are acquainted, but allow me to reintroduce you to Theodore Falsey, your new partner.”

The doorway was occupied by a slender young man, so thin it created the optical illusion of great height. Like Fred, he donned the white uniform given to Agents to differentiate themselves from the rabble. Unlike Fred, he held himself with such an air of respectability, it verged on parody. It was no doubt that the person who stood with his heels clicked together like a good little soldier was Ted. 

As if nothing had changed.

Ted bore the marks of years passed- a little more facial hair, a few more lines under his eyes, less colour in his cheeks- but he seemed the same as ever. That same haughty demeanour, a posture so upright it could have been mistaken for a spine problem. Although, something was different about him, about the way his eyes stared blankly ahead through the lenses of the goggles he seemed to be wearing now. And yet for all the differences in the world, Ted was still there. That was enough. 

Don’t cry.

The heat around Fred’s eyes told him that it was too late for that, though. He spun his head towards the Elite Agent. 

“Th-this… You can’t. I can’t—“

“No arguments, Ellsworth. I expect civility. Or did you really want that demotion that badly?”

Fred didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, let alone speak. Suddenly, it became very clear why Petrel had wanted to clear out so quickly. He didn’t want to have to deal with the messy emotional fallout of this arrangement. Fred gripped the back of the chair to stop him throwing a punch at Ted, whose eyes he felt boring into him from behind. Yet as his fingers sunk into the padding, all he could think about was throwing the chair. The last time he had seen Ted, the only way they had managed to be in the same room together was by virtue of the extreme violence Fred had been able to exert on the once smug scientist. Fred knew about the demotion, but liked to pretend he knew nothing of Ted. He didn’t want anything to do with him, least of all… partnership.

As he stared into the space of the room, things briefly became very, very clear. Fred was underperforming because he was too comfortable in his position. He was so content to be mediocre, he never strove for improvement. Of course, there was the promise of the fabled glory of Team Rocket if he did well. But any manager knew that the one thing more effective than a carrot was a stick. 

And Ted was the stick.

Suddenly, Fred was very mad at Team Rocket… furious. This wasn’t a reshuffling of his responsibilities. This was a punishment. A punishment they wanted to convince him was a favour. He huffed through his nose.

“Your orders will be delivered to you the following morning. Is there going to be a problem? Should I call Executive Petrel all the way back here?”

The Elite Agent leant forward, her biro hovering over an ominous looking box in Fred’s paperwork. He frowned back at her, but his brows instinctively curved backwards into a frightened look. Her eyes met his with the same expressionless glare Ted had often given him when there was no choice… Besides… Fred never really knew how to fight back.

“No, ma’am.”

“Very good. Given your penchant for misplacing and destroying paperwork, I will have your orders given to your new partner. I expect the two of you to organise time to meet up and coordinate. From now on you will report to myself first, Petrel second, under your new code names as Agents Seraph and Nidhogg. Seraph,” she said, giving a pointed look at Fred as she began clearing the desk, “you are to report to Agent Wyatt when convenient, or should he request a report from yourself.”

Folding the file under her arms, she stood tall above Fred. 

“Dismissed.”

Like a clockwork toy, Ted set to, marching out the office at the sound of his command. Fred glared at him, narrowing his eyes as he watched. Something was definitely up with him, but Fred couldn’t put finger on it. Seeing his new superior (whose name he should definitely learn) waiting for him to leave, he reluctantly did as he was told… like a good little Houndour, tail between his legs. 

The Elite Agents followed their juniors out of the office calmly, saluting as they left. Ted returned the salute so fast it could have happened before they started. Ted hadn’t been doing that the last time Fred had been with him. Even so, Fred returned a salute their way, albeit with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. 

“Glory to Rocket,” Agent Wyatt croaked, barging his shoulder into Fred’s as he stalked away. Fred watched the pair leave, fists balling up beside him. Neither of them spoke as they trooped down the corridor, Wyatt pulling out his PokeGear, to flick through what was doubtlessly a barrage of texts from his recruiters, informants and associates, the woman walking straight forward, likely with the intention of offloading Fred’s grotty file. 

Once they had disappeared around a corner, Fred swung his attention to Agent Nidhogg. At the very corners of Ted’s mouth, he was sure he could see the beginnings of a smile, the tightening of cheeks, the pull of lips, the tiny little crevice beginning to form where they met.

Before either man could say a word, Fred had Ted pushed up against the wall. He was too short to lift him off his feet, but had no trouble making Ted scrabble for his balance. He shook and pulled him straight, forcing him to look him in the eye, the taller’s arms halfway up in defence. That was when Fred noticed them.

Ted’s eyes were all wrong. Where he had once had delicate, ice blue eyes, he now had artificial, electric blue eyes, the colour flooding the whole eye. Instead of perpetually full stop sized pupils, thin, pointed slits bisected his eyes. What had he done? This wouldn’t have been the first time Ted messed with his own eyes before… but this was entirely not his style… This was monstrous. 

His rage was dampened with enough fear to make him stop, but Fred didn’t let it make him pity Ted. Not that. Not again. He shook it off, shook Ted.

“We are not friends. We’re not. I don’t know what you did, don’t care— I never wanted to see your ugly mug again, Ted.”

Whilst Fred breathed hot breath, Ted only looked back with that befitting, cold stare. “This is an assignment.”

Ted even sounded different. The same… but different. There was something odd about how he said his consonants. Still, he stared back, so almost expressionless. 

“Bull. SHIT.”

“We have been assigned to work together. I am only doing as I am—”

“BULL. SHIT!”

“… I am only doing as I am asked, as should you. I did not choose this assignment any more than you did.”

Ted’s arms had dropped by his side, limp, unthreatening. But just like a doll dropped in the rain, just because he did not move, it didn’t make him any less frightening. There was every bit of purpose in the way he fell limp as there was in the precise choice of his words.

Fred let go of him with a shove. “Outside of work, I still don’t wanna see your face. Not even on lunch breaks. I don’t even want you to text me.”

Silence hung in the air as Fred swayed away from him, desperate to tear his gaze away from the puzzling form of Ted. The ex-scientist stood patiently, staring unblinkingly at him, lips parted a millimetre. He pulled himself up to his full height, and unstrapped something from his belt. A medium-sized tablet sat in his hand as he calmly entered some details. 

“Tomorrow morning I will relay our orders to you. I have arranged for one of the small office spaces to be ours so that we may convene to discuss how we will proceed at eleven-hundred hours.” 

Without protesting Fred’s assertion, or awaiting protestation of his own, Ted strode off in the opposite direction, Fred aghast.

#☆ r e p o r t e d ☆『drabbles』 #//heehoo heehoo #//is FINISHED #//now i finally have them all #//what did it cost? tedverything

[sir-renfelt]

[Lord of the Lord Defenders: Princeps Kinine Falco]

Bio in Brief

Name: Kinine Falco Rank: Princeps Legio: Implacablis [The Lord Defenders] Age: 87 Standard Height: 6’ 4” Hair: Black, greying. Eyes: Green right eye, augmented left eye God-Engine: Warlord-class titan Imperator Ajax

Pict-Capture

History and Backstory

Kinine Falco was born on Forgeworld Antilles to parents listed in the records of Antille’s data-stacks by only their serial identification number, birth and death dates, and labor designation as mid-grade assembly menials. There are no records of other offspring, and it is likely Falco was conceived and born as part of Antille’s rotating child authorization program intended to promote the growth of its future workforce without the risk of overpopulating the planet and straining resources. Whatever role his parents played in his early life, it was likely minimal, as Falco can hardly remember their faces. He left their care at the age of ten when his own identification number was drawn from the Tithe of Common Recruits and he was sent off to begin training as a titan princeps with Legio Implacablis.

While the bulk of Legio Implacablis’ recruits come from Antilles’ Mechanicus nobility, sometimes the yearly influx does not provide enough numbers to account for expected failure rates to keep the Legio in fighting status. When this happens, the Tithe of Common Recruits is enacted, the necessary remainder pulled from Antilles’ common youth who meet the age requirement to begin princeps training. These recruits are often expected to be those that end up washing out, serving as the bottom rung for noble recruits to step on and achieve graduation into the Legio. But occasionally common recruits surprise their sponsors and surpass their noble peers, earning princepture. Currently, about 2% of the Legio’s active princeps came from the Tithe of Common Recruits.

Falco quickly set expectations for himself high, consistently placing in the top 10% of his cohort in the first five years of his training. While he excelled at most subjects, his forte appeared to be grand strategy, the boy having a knack for seeing the whole battlefield in his mind’s eye even without the help of manifold overlays. The favor this drew from his instructors often made him the target of his jealous noble peers. The bullying was a constant presence, even in his final year of studies, but Falco refused to let anyone intimidate him into dropping out. Each bruise and black eye was a reminder that they were scared of him, and he harnessed that spite to eventually graduate second in his class.

Post-graduation, Falco’s first assignment was as steersman to his sponsor, Princeps Tachion Evera on the Warmaster titan Gloria Excelsis. He was 18 years old. Like other graduates, Falco would spend the next several years working with his sponsor, rotating between command positions to gain experience at each level of titan operation. Under Evera’s eye, Falco grew, but the disdain from his noble counterparts did not lessen, and Falco was largely an outcast within the Legio when not seated within Gloria’s cockpit. Only the other Common Tithe princeps showed him any mercy and kinship, but they were few and far between with the Legio’s combat obligations.

Falco finally received the title of princeps at the age of 27. His first command was the Warhound-class titan Targus. Armed with twin turbo lasers, Falco and Targus typically ran as a pair with the Warhound Kumona and Princeps Adrianna Vex. Though Vex was of noble birth, she became impressed with Falco’s efficiency on the battlefield, especially when it came to hunting and taking down larger prey, and became one of his few allies in his early days as a princeps. Over time, the pair continued to mirror each other as their careers progressed. When Falco was transferred to the Reaver titan Saggitarum, Vex was given the princepture of Mordatus Espum. When Saggitarum was ambushed and disabled by a hunting party of Warhounds during the March for Ostien Prime, Vex stubbornly refused to leave the stricken engine until recovery units were able to arrive and retrieve Falco, who had been unconscious for almost forty-eight hours at that time. She and Mordatus Espum claimed no less than seven engine kills in defense of the incapacitated Reaver.

Falco was able to repay the favor a decade later. By then he and Vex had both been placed in command of Warlords, Imperator Ajax and Rogue Queen respectively. The titan-ark carrying Rogue Queen and her maniple was shot down on atmospheric entry over Quiaxus VII. Initially it was believed everyone aboard was lost when the ark crashed, but an hour later a garbled distress call came from Rogue Queen, hinting at Vex’s survival at least. But the problem was the crash sight was in the middle of greenskin territory, and they would undoubtedly not give up their prize without a fight. Falco insisted on and ended up leading Myrmidon battleline maniple, spearheading a massive assault to claim the crash site and retrieve Vex. With the greenskins on the back foot, Falco was able to rescue his friend, though Rogue Queen would have to wait another seven weeks for fighting to stop so she could be properly salvaged. By then, the orks had looted her of most of her component pieces, but enough was saved to be recycled into a second Warlord dubbed Rogue Queen II.

Today, Falco is a noted figure within Legio Implacablis’ command structure, and rumors abound that someday he will become Princeps Primaris once Alaria Sourn passes away. If asked about the subject, however, Falco will dismiss it, claiming his common status precludes him from consideration. If Vex is around, however, she will enthusiastically support the notion, sometimes to the point of Falco’s embarrassment.

#[Lord of the Lord Defenders: Princeps Kinine Falco] #mobile profile

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 3

[I finally finished this. I knew because it had combat in it, it would take me a bit longer, but surprisingly, that part wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. And was pretty fun to write. :3

Anyway, long one here but we’re makin’ progress!]

Nabooru

Only Nabooru’s innate sense of direction and memory from Zarbon’s tour helped her find her way back to her room once she came to after the procedure, and the numbers that once seemed foreign on the pad next to her door felt as innate as if she learned them alongside her basic arithmetic in her youth back home. A sign the chip worked, if nothing else. Small and windowless, her room was as inviting as a prison cell and only half a foot remained between her fingertips and each wall when she spread them out. The bed in the corner at least looked long enough, but was less than half as wide as that she slumbered in back home, and a press of her palm on the thin mattress made her miss the plush pillows and blankets that cradled her along with the feather-filled mattress all the more. A counter spanned along the wall across the foot of the bed adjacent to the door and she rested her bag there where she would unpack it at a later, more wakeful time. 

Had she not sat on the edge of her bed and considered whether she had the energy to strip down before falling asleep, she noted the set of mirrored double doors across from her. Curiosity defeated her drowsiness and, with the press of the button, she opened it up. Inside, she found spare changes of her uniform in the same colors and styles as well as a few sets of a drab gray fabric. Unfolding them revealed them to be sleepwear of sorts with shorts in the same style and fabric as her armor and a sleeveless top that, when she swapped her armor out for the new outfit, found the top to be looser and more comfortable for sleep than the skin-tight battle suit. The top was a little on the short side, a quarter of her toned midriff on display, but, even if she did care, she didn’t have the capacity to consider taking it up with Zarbon or anyone else.

The sleep Nabooru managed could only be attributed to the residual drugs left in her system as her nerves over not understanding how to tell time woke her several times. After the third, she fought the remnants of exhaustion and remained awake, changing back into her uniform and heading to the classroom where she would begin her lessons. Sunshine or something like it eventually glimmered through the window, but she could only guess how long she waited there in the empty space, fiddling with the device fitted to the side of her head in the meantime. 

A signal sounded what she guessed was the first meal and, after another half hour, perhaps, the whir of the door pulled her from a confusing rabbit hole of commands she had sifted through on the scouter. A short, squatty alien with yellow-splotched orange skin and at least a half dozen tentacled arms dangling around him like a frilled collar shuffled into the room, casting her little more than a haughty, disapproving glance through watery and bulging eyes. He introduced himself as Plumme and steamrolled straight into the first lesson. Despite his demeanor, Plumme proved more patient than she expected. Still, by the time the signal for the second meal sounded through the complex, her head was pounding from hours of cramming nonstop and new information about the technology she would become familiar with, how the business worked, the history of the Cold Empire and the PTO, and the limitless depths of space. 

Once dismissed until the same time the next morning, she trudged to the mess hall, using both her memory and the map function in her scouter for practice in using it outside of lessons. With a full afternoon of training--a far more exciting prospect than her morning regimen--she would need her strength. She ignored the expected stares and not-so-discrete comments about her looks or newbie status in favor of focusing on the array of strange foods and scents laid out along the line and piling them onto her tray as others in front of her did. She skirted around the tables and soldiers to commandeer an empty one. With limited time, she didn’t fuss with what she shoved into her mouth, only sliding something to the side if it threatened to lurch back up before it could make it to her belly. 

Out of both excitement for the prospect of training her combat skills over bombarding her mind and concern over the consequences of being late, she followed the example of other soldiers in disposing of her scraps and tray and hurried back to the classroom where she was instructed to meet her trainer. From there, they would take her to a training area of their choice. Plumme suggested it would be one of the multiple training rooms with infinite virtual simulations for any combat situation one could dream up. Convenient, artificial,  and efficient, as everything seemed to be there. 

When she turned the last corner, she couldn't help but snort at the irony of who she found leaned against the wall outside of the classroom. The fluorescent lights overhead reflected off his bald dome, and his folded arms over his broad chest and frown that followed the growth of his mustache denoted less than excitement for the task set to him. She supposed she would have a hard time heeding Zarbon's warning to stay away from him and his cohorts--Saiyans, he called them--if he was to instruct her for the next month.

Turning his head, his sour expression melted away, a smirk replacing it in a split second. "I was beginning to think you chickened out," he said as she halted by his side. "Would have been unfortunate considering we don't get many lookers like you around here."

Nabooru's eyelids lowered, and she considered putting him through the wall. Not five seconds into their first meeting and he already had the gall to flirt with her. "I noticed. I haven't seen one person around here that isn't a total eyesore." Recognition dawned slow over his features, and Nabooru adopted his smirk in light of it. Before he could retort, she cut him off. "So you're the one training me, huh? Where are the other two who were with you?"

"Sure am. I'd be more upset about another nanny gig if they had shoved anyone else on me. Looks aside, your power level is something else for a new recruit, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in seeing what you're made of. Frieza said your people are similar to Saiyans, too. Now I get a front row seat to see just how well that holds up." He turned and signaled for her to follow with a crook of two large fingers. "You mean Vegeta and Raditz? Off on some job or other s'far as I know. I'm sure they'll be missing me when they realize how much slack they have to pick up. And jealous when they find out I get to spend half a day with you instead of having to look at their ugly mugs."

Nabooru bit her tongue to stifle a sassy retort, deciding it best to stay on his good side for the time being. He seemed easy-going enough, but she wanted to get the most out of her training, not give him reason to sabotage it. "Guess you're getting a nice little vacation then until I get to beat the tar out of you in a spar," she said, grinning in the face of the sneer he shot her. So much for not poking the molduga. "What do you have planned for me, er...what should I call you?"

"Master Nappa has a nice ring to it." They halted in front of a pair of doors. Nappa and the guard on duty exchanged a nod. The guard opened up the doors to a ramp sloping down to a desolate, red-soiled surface. Craggy cliffs and spires of rock jutted into the teal skyline. "Or just master is great, too."

"I'm not calling you master," Nabooru quipped, following him down the ramp. Rust-colored dust stained her once pristine boots upon reaching the planet's surface, but she welcomed it along with the first hint of a proper breeze on her skin and passingly fresh air in her lungs. "Let's compromise the other way and go with Nappa. That or I'll think of something you won't like."

Nappa rubbed a hand along his square jaw. "You drive a hard bargain, lady. But fine. I'm still going to refer to myself as your master though, and you as my pupil." His feet left the ground to hover above it. "You can at least fly, right?"

She followed his lead in answer. "My name is Nabooru. Not lady."

“Not a bad name, I guess. A little weird...” 

He took to the sky and Nabooru followed suit, using the silence between them to observe the planet she now called home, even if only temporarily. It sounded like she would move around quite a bit. Outside of the complex, the further they flew, the more sure she became that it was completely barren and devoid of other life. The remnants of what could have been buildings and civilization suggested it may not have always been that way. Optimism had her wanting to believe Frieza and his men had found the planet already abandoned, but the bits of knowledge she had scraped together from Zarbon and her morning lessons suggested the planet was purposefully and violently cleared to harbor this base.

“Here’s a good spot.”

Nabooru nearly collided with his massive back in her sightseeing, narrowly avoiding the embarrassment by floating to his side instead. “Is there something I’m supposed to see here?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow, arms folded. It looked much the same as the rest of the planet. “Plumme mentioned a training room. Why aren’t we using that?”

“You ask too many questions,” he muttered gruffly, facing her and mirroring her cross-armed posture. “We’re training with ki, we need the room, and I’m not here to half-ass your training. How’s that for a reason?”

“Touchy.” 

The Saiyan grumbled more, and her lips twitched in another smile when she just made out a threat to make her suffer through this training. Though she wanted a good challenge, she decided to wait and see what he might throw at her without egging him on for more. She wanted to give him a fair chance to put her to the test of his own accord.

“From what I understand, you’ve got the basics of ki under your belt, right?” Nabooru nodded.  “Good then this will be fun.”

Nabooru raised an eyebrow as Nappa scanned their surroundings, searching for she  could only guess what in this barren wasteland. His roving eyes eventually halted, and she followed his gaze to a stalagmite twice her height jutting out of a field of smaller ones surrounding it. "Perfect.”

Her brows lowered, lips turned down in a baffled grimace, observing the stalagmite and the field of smaller ones surrounding it. Were they going to spar over it? She faced a bloody demise if he knocked her into it hard enough. She shuddered at the image of her mangled body pierced on the formations. "What does a bunch of rocks have to do with ki training?”

"Are you questioning my teaching methods?" She started to reply with a snarky affirmative, but the Saiyan cut her off. "You’re going to use your ki to keep yourself levitated over that rock there." He tilted his head toward the largest of the formations. “And no, not by flying before you try that on me. You’re going to concentrate your energy into your finger and use it to keep yourself from being impaled and without destroying the rock. You’ll do that for an hour. You cheat, boost yourself too high, or fall, we start the hour over.”

She hoped for a challenge, and Nappa had delivered. Controlling her ki in such a way, keeping it at a low enough level while also strong enough to keep herself aloft would take skill and focus. Controlling her ki for a long period which would benefit her ability to maintain it in a fight. While it wouldn’t utilize the maximum reaches of her ki power wise, she could see the benefit of learning to use it in more concentrated ways. With this exercise likely serving as a warm up, she both dreaded and looked forward to what else he had in store for her. 

Boots lifted from the ground and she drifted up to the stalagmite. With at least an hour of this ahead of her, she wanted to waste no time. She doubted failing to measure up to whatever standards Frieza had in mind for her would bode well for her. She needed every minute she could glean to improve herself. Learn how to utilize her ki to the very finest uses and in the ways best for her new station.

Gripping the tip of the stalagmite, she hoisted herself up onto it, legs extended to the sky and one arm holding her up. The stone that made up her pedestal was sturdier than she imagined, her touch doing little to disturb its integrity. Bolstered, she shifted up onto her fingertip and adjusted her body's balance accordingly. She had to approach the next phase with the utmost care. Too little energy would fail to lift her, and too much would destroy the pillar entirely. Neither conducive outcomes toward her training as both would waste time. Thus, she fed the barest amount of ki into her fingertip, orange light flickering at the tip of her glove. Again and again she repeated this process, adding minimal increments of energy until it lifted her finger from the point. Not until an inch of orange-yellow light glowed between leather and rock did she pause, memorizing how it felt and what it would take to maintain the pose. Ensuring it was only that point that held her aloft. Keeping an eye on the stalagmite itself for signs of breakage.

"This high enough?" She asked Nappa at last, lifting her head to find the Saiyan lounging on a boulder, arms folded and observing her with the hint of a smirk. Sweat already beaded on her forehead, embarrassing after only a few minutes. If she made it through the hour, she would be drenched before they did anything active. 

"Sure is. You got that faster than I thought you would." He tapped his scouter. "I was pretty sure we'd have to find at least one more rock to use. Guess you're a whole lot more patient than Vegeta when he was a kid. Hell, probably now, too."

She dropped her head again, not wanting to waste any energy on holding it up. "So this is a regular exercise for your training camp, huh? Here I thought I was special."

"Heh, yep. Vegeta and Raditz went through this as brats. Vegeta obliterated the first three rocks we tried with, probably on purpose. Raditz got caught in the crossfire and would have to start over with him." He chuckled, the memory obviously a fond one. "Finally got 'em to do it right, but it only lasted a week. You'll get to start each session this way for a month."

"So you're saying I could throw a temper tantrum and get out of doing this?" 

"Not a chance."

She blew out a puff of air. "Worth a try." 

Silent minutes ticked by, the sound of the breeze between the canyon walls and Nappa shifting in his seat once in while all that interrupted them. She had begun to feel the strain the constant flow of energy took on her, and it began to overtake her attention to remaining aloft. She glanced to Nappa. "So are you their father?" she asked, hoping the conversation would take her mind off of the settling fatigue. 

He snorted. "Hell no. You really think either of them could be my kid?" She rolled her eyes and he continued. "Nah, I was just the only adult Saiyan left so I got stuck with caring for the two squirts."

"Wait." She lifted her head again and righted the flutter of her energy before her surprise got her impaled. "You three are the last of your race? What happened to the rest of them?"

Nappa grunted and frowned, eyes closing beneath a furrowed brow. "Planet was destroyed by a meteor years ago. S'far as we know, we were the only survivors. The prince, his retainer, and a bushy haired runt that just got lucky. Though, I guess we all did."

Her stomach churned. She knew what it was like for her people to be on the brink of potential destruction. These three lived through the worst case scenario of it. The actualization of the doomsday scenes her mind had conjured for her race in dream and waking alike for the last several years.

"How did you survive?" Though only two days into her career, she did understand that people couldn't breathe in space. Not to mention the survival of a planet's destruction would be slim so she thought.

"Like I said. Luck, really." Nabooru lifted her head enough to see the tinge of what she assumed was pain or regret flash over his otherwise neutral expression. "The three of us were off planet at the time. The king and Frieza had made some kind of agreement. For whatever reason, his power I'm guessing, Frieza wanted Vegeta close by. Maybe for grooming to be one of his generals one day, who really knows. That meant he got me, too, as the prince's caretaker. The king's request so I could keep an eye on him. He was just a brat back then, you know. Raditz was off on a mission. We found him floating where the planet used to be. His pod's autopilot took him back there."

Nabooru breathed out a sigh and watched a drop of sweat drip from the tip of her nose and into the stalagmite trap below. She bit her tongue on her sympathy, knowing had their roles been reversed, she wouldn't want to hear some stranger's apologies or endure their coddling. Once more, she felt an innate pull to Nappa and his cohorts with little information on them, the need to form bonds with someone in this new, daunting environment rearing its head as it had in their first, brief encounter. She couldn't afford those relationships, flimsy attachments that could disappear in the blink of an eye and be used against her.

Besides, they had each other. The last three of their kind. She was the one perfectly alone there.

"What are your people like, huh? Frieza said you guys reminded him of us."

The question felt like a twisted dagger in her heart. She hadn't realized she felt homesick until that moment, her new schedule keeping her busy and her mind occupied. She felt a hitch upward in her ki and she quelled it quickly before it could send her skyward or damage the stalagmite. She shook her head to erase the visions of the desert, the temple, her friends, mother, and lover. She had to stay strong. For them. A whiny baby begging to go home would be met with a cold shoulder at best.

"We're warriors. The greatest on the planet without contest. Even more so now that we can use ki. All women save for the one male born each century." She heard a curiously pleased rumble from the Saiyan and she snapped, "Don't get any stupid ideas. And don't think too much into the plausibility of that. The legends point to one of our goddess but no one really knows how it happens. Hyrule doesn't have much in the way of technology or all this scientific advancement. So if there's a more concrete reason, we wouldn't know of it."

"Heh, sounds like that male is pretty lucky, then." Nabooru shot him a glare, causing him to chuckle. "Alright, keep your shorts on. So what lucky happenstance put you guys and your planet on Frieza's radar? With no technology and warriors with no knowledge of ki, that leaves little left for him to take interest."

Had she not been afraid the motion would throw her off balance, she would have shrugged. “Resources are what the scouts concluded, I think. I guess with so much of the planet untouched, they found plenty they could use.” She bent her legs at the knees for a few seconds before straightening them out again. “They found out about our troubles with the other races on the planet, and Frieza made us a deal: his soldiers teach us how to use ki so we could overthrow the current monarchy in power and free ourselves, and in exchange, they rule the planet in his stead and he gets me to add to his ranks.”

Nappa pondered her explanation, tapping his fingers on his bicep. “There are worse deals, I guess. I don’t suppose you know how that turned out?”

“No. We had undergone about a month of training before Frieza showed up and said he wanted me.”

“Lucky you,” Nappa said with a snort, and Nabooru didn’t disagree with the evident sarcasm. Before either could continue, Nappa’s scouter beeped thrice, and he tapped the button on the side. “Well, congratulations. You completed your warm up.”

Nabooru sighed in relief and eased herself back down, grasping the top of the stalagmite again and righting her orientation. She floated back down to land in front of Nappa, a slight drain on her reserves of energy evident with just that simple task. A kink to work out if she wanted to last and become a true force to be reckoned with.

"Now what? Are you going to spar with me?"

The Saiyan snorted again and reached into this armor, bringing out a glass vial. Small, green spheres floated in a paler shaded liquid. "Maybe another day. For now, you'll be fighting these Saibamen. Should be around your power level. Unlike me, these are expendable."

"So you're scared?" Nabooru taunted with a grin as Nappa squatted down and pressed the spheres into the ground and sprinkled the liquid over them. Curiosity stifled the rest of her taunts. "Are those plants? You're making me fight plants?"

“Heh, something like that.” Not a moment later did the dampened ground crack where he placed the seeds. What resembled bulbous cabbages plowed through the ground. Three-clawed hands raked along the ground and pulled out short, gangly bodies. They let out a cacophony of ear-splitting shrieks, and Nabooru clapped her hands over her ears.

"What are those things?" she shouted. She let her hands fall back to her sides when the creatures closed their mouths, devious little grins on their faces.

Nappa dropped the vial back into his armor. "These are called Saibamen. They’ll be your opponents. I want to see how well and how much you already incorporate ki into your own brand of combat." He grinned at her. "And what better way than with multiple enemies."

Her initial impression was that they didn't look like much. Scrawny and fragile things easily disposed of. However, she remembered that he said they had a power level close to her own, and though she still didn't quite understand what sort of statistics composed a power level, she knew better than to take them too lightly. Nappa's warm up exercise hadn't been a walk through a field of flowers, after all.

With a nod, she drifted out into a wider space, creating distance between herself and her new opponents as well as her spectating instructor. She bent her knees and shifted into a comfortable fighting stance, her weight balanced and both arms raised. "Ready when you are."

"You heard her. Go have some fun, ya runts!"

They needed no convincing. The six Saibamen shot straight for with another chorus of those shrieks, their speed notable but nothing she couldn't handle. Instinct kicked in as she dodged and blocked their flurry of kicks and punches while bearing the brunt of those she couldn't contend with, the pain of them registering for no more than a moment as she focused on taking down her opponents. The first order of business being moving from defense to offense before they wore her down and overpowered her with their numbers. 

She caught one of them by the wrist and slammed it into the one nearest one, sending two skittering off several meters from her and the rest of the mob. The bite of claws dug into the meat of her thigh and another landed a kick to her opposite side before she could block the next punch aimed her her face with a raised forearm. Orange-yellow energy built in her free palm and she shot a sphere of it at the one who had drawn blood. She swung a powerful kick at the one in front of her, catching it and another up in the sweeping arc and sending them flying away from her. 

Though only one remained in her immediate vicinity, she knew she had very precious few seconds before the other piled back in. Orange energy enveloped her and she shot backward, eyes flitting to each enemy and noting their location, how quickly they would recuperate to continue their onslaught. The first two had recovered and fired toward her, one with its own yellow ki blasts forming in its hands. The others were already regaining their feet.

She thought back to the desert, to the first time she did some real damage with her newfound abilities. The feeling of the energy it took to blow the top half clean off one of the larger plateaus dotting the desert landscape flowing from the vat of it within her to the palm of her hands. A similar attack could deal with the two speeding toward her. If not completely, it would weaken them enough to give her an opening to finish them off.

Her orange-yellow ki built in her hands at her sides and pushed them both out in front of her, firing the blast toward the advancing Saibamen. The light swallowed the fired blasts from one and the plant creatures followed suit, their shrieks of pain short lived as they disintegrated into nothing. A third had hastily tried to hop into the fray and gotten caught in the blast, leaving only the right half of its body to fall to the dusty ground. A gruesome sight that made her insides squirm, but she didn't have time to stare or consider how many more she would mutilate in such a way in this new position. How many wouldn't be just training fodder like these creatures.

The remaining Saibamen reminded her of the miniscule window in punishing fashion. A fist caught her side and knocked her off balance and sideways, her armor only seeming to absorb some of the blow. A second waited to boot her straight into the air. Before she could right herself the third zipped upward to bash his joined hands into her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her and sending her careening to the ground. Her back slammed the surface, spittle and blood emitting from her lips on impact and a spiderweb of cracks cascading outward from her body. 

Another beep of her scouter told her what she already knew. Ignoring the pain in sore muscle and bone, Nabooru rolled to her feet as one of the monsters slammed a fist into the ground where her head had been, the indentation left deep. She threw her elbow back into another that tried to sucker punch her in the spine and used the moment of surprise in the first to fire another wave of ki at it. Another shriek and it was reduced to dust, leaving two alive and her patience running ever thinner.

She flipped around to face the one behind her, only just recovering from her elbow connecting hard with its face. He was chattering angrily in its nonsensical language and brushing the last bit of bluish ooze from its face. Nabooru fired forward again. Energy surged to her right fist as she aimed a heavy punch for its gut. She saw the confusion on its face when her punch landed and tore through green flesh, bone, muscles, and organs like paper and through to the other side. Once more she had to suppress her own surprise and the lunch she ate when she considered what she did and yanked her arm free of the creature to engage the final opponent. 

It was just a beast. Just like the monsters in Hyrule.

She flicked the cyan blood from her glove and faced the final Saibaman, the fear on its face palpable and it's desire to flee written in its eyes. To prevent the chance, she closed the gap between them, gathering energy as she did. Once at point blank range, she released it. Awful as it felt to some degree, she preferred this tactic. Complete obliteration that felt less personal. Less messy. Less to look at in the aftermath and feel guilt over.

When the dust settled, she heard the applause of large hands and Nappa's boisterous laughter. "You really give new meaning to the term bombshell! You did better than I expected, honestly." He folded his arms with a smirk. "There's still work to be done, but I'm glad I have a better base to work with than I was expecting. You handle yourself like a true warrior out there. Nappa's pupil, the next up and comer in the Frieza Force. Has a real nice ring to it."

"It's only what I trained my whole life for," she replied, though the proud smile was more than apparent on her lips. She hoped it made her look less worn out than she felt. "So what's next?"

"Heh, raring to go, are ya?" Nappa pulled the vial out of his armor again. "Alright. I like it. We're going to do the same thing, but this time, I want you to stay airborne as much as possible. Think you can handle that?"

In truth, the Gerudo wasn't certain. Her experience with fighting while flying were minimal. Not to mention the ever-growing exhaustion. But she refused to tell him that. She would rise to the challenge. 

“Plant another round, Nappa. I’m ready.”

#fic: recruited #:: nabooru ☀ #// vegeta ♅ #| nappa ♅ #i worry i didn't make her struggle enough but #whatever :'D #next chapter she'll really get put through the ringer promise

[gothicdevice]

I'm trying to finally, definitively figure out Miklos' military career.

Hasn't been easy cause trying to make sense of Russia's military, paramilitary and intelligence infrastructure is the most complicated thing I've ever attempted for the sake of ocs lol. The military reorganization in 2008/2013, the formation of a central authority for special purpose troops, the SOF and the competing interests and unclear jurisdiction of the GRU, FSB and SVR don't help either. I'm also willing to believe about 80% of the material on their military and intelligence apparatus is paranoid disinformation, so let's just think of all of this as intelligent (?) conjecture based on extensive (frustrated) reading.

After high school Miklos enrolled in the State Institute for Applied Sciences and Engineering (fictional. Amusingly an earlier incarnation of this institution is probably the same one that Vadim taught maths at) for a degree in industrial engineering. About midway through the course he decided to enlist in the VDV, the airborne troops. He finished his degree while enlisted. He could have dodged the 12 month mandatory draft courtesy of Katya and more particularly Arseny, but instead opted to enlist in the professional division.

Miklos' motivations are nebulous. Certainly part of it is a boy's outward turned rage and despair, a youthful sense of invincibility, a lack of interest in the conventional post university career path. Another part of it is detached impersonal curiosity. As a boy he had been fond of reading about historical engagements, the history of long distance shooting, the exploits of snipers in the Second World War. He was more physically fit than most and he wasn't a bad shot. The most father-like things Arseny ever did for Miklos was to teach him to shoot and pay for his judo training. Supporting his shift to MMA came out of his own pocket. His reasons are vague yet his decision seems logical when seen in a certain light, and once he became a paratrooper it seemed increasingly likely that he would follow Arseny's career trajectory.

Katya tried to convince him to go into the engineering or logistic corps, but after his time at Ryazan and several months of training he went into the Air Assault Division. Miklos called home several times in between active deployment in Chechnya and Georgia. After a few short lines of calm, slightly stilted conversation with his son, Arseny would offer the phone to Katya. She would always refuse to speak to Miklos.

After a year in the Division, Miklos applied to the 45th Special Recon Brigade, passed the punishing evaluations and began to train as a spetsnaz operative. At this point I would say that Miklos had plans of joining the GRU Spetsnaz, as it traditionally recruited from the 45th. It's still early to say, however, because he would need at least three years of service in the 45th to be considered for the division. He was 22 at the time.

At 25 Miklos left the service following some injuries sustained in Syria from a land mine. He had also witnessed, from the distance of six and a half feet away, the death of the man in his unit who had triggered the explosive in a fall. An accident. A tragedy, but only one of thousands. His commander was surprised by the request for discharge and tried to convince him to stay on. It seemed unlike the calm, laconic operative to throw it in after witnessing a fatality close up. It's not as though it was the first time.

A somewhat aimless six or eight months followed wherein Miklos went back to fighting, padded the automotive mechanic training he'd received in the service by enrolling in an automotive engineering course and working at a mechanical parts fabrication shop. In the interminable gaps between these various pursuits he drank; efficiently, silently, and without company in pursuit of insensate intoxication. This time it was his turn to mostly ignore his parents' phone calls and requests to see him.

Unable to stay away, Miklos finally applied to the Special Operations Forces where he received additional specialized training and worked in small units. On orders from his superiors he specialized further as a paramilitary intelligence operator able to work independently in enemy territory and without contact with command for extended periods of time. His superiors fond him quick, competent, resourceful, aloof and highly intelligent. Not particularly creative, in their estimation but a hell of a shot. An impressive unarmed fighter. He had no sentiments and never flinched, willing to do anything— within reason— to fulfill mission objectives.

Miklos had lived outside of normal society for years, but living in the gray zone wasn't like anything he experienced before. It was isolated and isolating. There was nothing or no one to depend on but himself. Here even the tenuous party line of defense of his country's foreign interests was left behind, and interchangeable enemies and allies shifted almost hour to hour. Here the idea of power was even more abstract, and there were never any clear winners or losers. Sometimes Miklos felt that he was operating for the purpose of high level political gangsterism. He negotiated the sale of weapons with war lords, ferried bales of US currency to tribal chieftains, met with the leaders of dissident military factions, dealt and worked with mercenaries, thieves, human traffickers and drug mules. Miklos trained guerrilla fighters and provided them with weapons, acted in an advisory capacity to struggling, patchwork militias. On orders he sold and bought contraband and traded them for information, loyalty, manpower or other resources. Several times, to his great amusement, he also escorted and facilitated the transport of British and American covert operatives into zones where they were not supposed to be on the ground, via drug trade routes as part of a high level exchange of information that he was not privy to. He carried out assassinations, quiet operations with little fanfare. More conventionally he sometimes worked in concert with Russian armed forces, going into enemy territory and identifying targets for air strikes. Most of these tasks required that he not identify as working for SOF and if he was killed on assignment he would have died anonymously, his body unlikely to be recovered.

Eventually Miklos leaves the SOF. Here I have to fudge things a little because I am unable to decide whether he leaves after a botched mission wherein he's presumed dead or simply turns in a resignation and, eight months later, turns up on a SOF watchlist of dangerous private contractors. If that happened SOF would simply continue to hire him on contract for tasks they don't wish to be connected to.

Miklos is neither a nationalist or a patriot. He barely thinks of himself as Russian. His motivations are strange but he gains satisfaction from physical mastery and the extremely demanding parameters of his work. It's not unlike being an elite athlete; the vocation requires the same amount of dedication, practice and discipline. Most military forces yearn to instill that kind of workman's pride in a job well done in their own troops for the act of killing. The all consuming mental and physical demands of the work also (almost) ensure that Miklos isn't drowned by his own low grade depression and mounting cynicism.

As for why Miklos becomes a contractor it might be as simple as "the private sector always pays better than the government."

• Arseny is a senior SVR officer. Yeah it makes things awkward.

• Miklos is the name he used when he starts to work as a contractor.

#text #Miklos #RAMBLINGS #apparently I don't understand the idea of brevity #just exploring the ADKOB set up and my hand slipped #damn I saved on the wrong blog #this is messy but eh

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Daughter Series - Soldier 76

Fifth part of the ‘Daughter Series’ I’ve created in response to @i-am-not-daredevil‘s fantastic Overwatch headcanons that I requested - they can be found here.

This one gave me a bit of grief, but hopefully it turned out alright. It’s 5800ish words with a break in the middle. I’ve never written much angst either so you fine folks have unwittingly signed up to be my guinea pigs. MUUHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!

Thanks for reading! Just one more after this and then I’ll have to figure out to do next. Drop me a line if you have any suggestions :D

More Daughter Series: Hanzo, Roadhog, McCree, Reaper, Genji

Soldier 76 installments: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

masterlist

               Another hour had passed, and 76 was beginning to get antsy. When Dr. Ziegler had radioed ahead to warn the old man that the Overwatch team was going to be late, he had not expected them to be this late. Evening was quickly turning into night, and the cloudy London sky was too smog ridden to allow for a colorful sunset. “I’m not getting any younger,” he grumbled looking at the horizon. Ana wasn’t even here to take his mind off things with a biting remark or embarrassing story he’d almost forgotten. Instead, he was left waiting on a rooftop for a bunch of kids he had very little faith in.

               If it hadn’t been for Angela’s prodding, Soldier 76 never would have agreed to work with Overwatch again. He’d known it would be risky to contact his former compatriot, but he had to make sure the doctor was doing alright – he didn’t trust the new organization to keep her safe. It wasn’t long before she’d put the pieces together, despite 76’s best attempts to be discrete. The woman was adamant! And a determined doctor is a formidable thing. Having his identity discovered had proved to be less problematic than the soldier had anticipated since Angela had agreed to keep to keep the secret. Eventually. After a very long discussion. The most trying part of being ‘alive’ again was dealing with the consequences of his former life.

              When the aging man had asked if there were any fresh faces in Overwatch, the last thing he’d expected was hearing that the new medic was a young woman named Natalia Morrison. His daughter. A girl 76 had never met, but a DNA test proved was his child. The man had honest to god blacked out when Angela told him.

              “A daughter,” he’d sputtered out. He was silently praying that the comm was just glitching out.

              “Yes, Jack, a daughter,” Angela said quietly.

              “No, no, that can’t be right.”

              “Science doesn’t lie.”

              “R-run the test again,” he whimpered running his fingers through his silver hair. “I don’t have any kids, doc. I don’t.”

              “I did run it twice,” she sighed, “three times, in fact. I’m absolutely sure Talia is yours.”

              “I can’t – I don’t – . . . Doc, what am I supposed to do? I have no idea what to do with a child!” He was shaking.

              “Well, she isn’t a child. She’s 22,” the woman said matter of factly.

              “That doesn’t help, Ang!”

              “It’s not as if I know what to tell you! Family counseling is not my schtick,” she replied. He could see her tight-lipped frown in his mind. “I just thought it would be best if you knew about her.”

              “Does she know about me,” he asked weakly.

              “Yes, and she’s quite fond of you.”

              “Fond of me? But I’ve never met her . . . right?”

              Soldier 76 could faintly hear Dr. Ziegler drumming her fingers on her desk. “No, you’ve never met, but she’s heard all the stories about you. Have you forgotten that you’re famous? Or at least Commander Morrison is.”

              “Oh,” he said softly, “So, what, she’s read the history books about Overwatch?”

              Angela laughed, “Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, I know Natalia be a bit embarrassed, but she’s read all the books. Little darling admitted she was a bit obsessed as a kid.”

              “Um . . .” He didn’t quite know how to feel. Honestly, the idea of anyone obsessing over him was disconcerting, much less her.

              “Jack, old friend, don’t hold it against her. She just wanted to know about her father,” she cooed.

              The soldier shuttered. He was a father. A very, very terrified father. “Angela, you didn’t tell her I’m alive, did you?”

              There was nothing but hesitation on the other end of the line.

              “Doc, you there? Doc!”

              “No, Jack, I didn’t tell her,” the doctor sighed, “and it was damn hard not to! You should see the way Talia talks about you! It’s all admiration and wistful smiles. She would adore meeting – ”

              “You can’t tell her! Ever!” The old man’s shoulders curled in on him. He was in no position to meet her. He was a ball of anger, regret, and bitterness. There was a reason the no longer went by Jack – he wasn’t that man anymore.

              “Jack . . .”

              “Please, Angela. It’s better this way,” he sighed.

              “Better for who,” she grumbled just barely loud enough for him to hear through the earpiece. Before he could retort, the doctor continued, “Very well, if that’s what you wish. I still expect you will keep your promise of assisting us during our missions on occasion though, yes?”

              “Well – ” 76 wavered.

              “You may not be the Jack I remember,” Dr. Ziegler said with an angry edge to her voice, “but I hope you’re still at least a man of your word.”

              She was a goddess of guilt trips. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll still help,” he mumbled, “If I’m in the area. And we’re focused on the same goal, but I’m not coming to rescue every time something goes wrong.”

              “Understood.” She sounded detached or maybe disappointed, and it caused a knot to form in his gut. “I’ll keep an eye on your activities and contact you if I believe we can be of assistance to one another. Hopefully you will do the same.”

              “I will, Ang.”

              “Then perhaps I will see you soon, Soldier 76,” she replied before quickly hanging up.

              There were no more light laughs or gentle ‘Jack’s from Angela after that. It was always a purely professional ‘Soldier 76.’

              The first time he’d run into a group of Overwatch operatives Dr. Ziegler had been there, but not Natalia. He’d been overly relieved. The second time was entirely different. The young woman’s wild red ponytail had bobbed all over the battlefield, taking care of anyone who needed her. She was good. Really good. If circumstances had been different, 76 might have even admitted that she was a decent recruit. Instead, he’d only gotten distracted and shot in the arm. Nothing too drastic, but Angela had insisted that someone look at it. Natalia had offered to patch him up, and the old man had never been more uncomfortable in his life. As she disinfected and covered the wound, she spoke calmly and casually in an attempt to put him at ease. It hadn’t really worked, but seeing her grin and laugh with her teammates put a few of his lingering worries to bed. At least she seemed to be happy.

              When the masked vigilante saw Natalia next, the mission had gone much more smoothly. Soldier 76 had been keeping an eye on a group of underground weapon manufacturers when Genji, McCree, and Natalia popped up on his tactical visor. The three had cleaned the place up with surprising efficiency before the local law enforcement came by to sweep the criminals away. Ana wouldn’t shut up about the ‘impressive little Morrison girl.’ The sniper hadn’t stopped dropping hints about 76’s daughter since she found. Although, Ana knew she had no room to talk, considering how long she’d hid from Fareeha. The former Overwatch captain always called Natalia ‘the Morrison girl,’ just to get under 76’s skin. It worked infuriatingly well. In the end, the old man had stormed off without a word to any of the Overwatch operatives while Ana chased after him, whining about his tantrum.

              Now here he was again, another run in with the organization he used to lead on the way, and a nervous twitch making him bounce his knee. Up and down, up and down. Faster, then slower. Faster then slower. “Where the hell are they,” he hissed.

              “Sorry for the wait, sir,” came a bright voice from 76’s left side. He rose to his feet and peered over the ledge of the building to see a pair of pale blue eyes staring back at him. Natalia stopped climbing the ladder to give him a small wave. There was no one behind her or on the ground below.

              “Where are the others,” he asked with a frown.

              “Doing a bit of surveillance. We received some worrying intel on the way over here that a large influx of personnel arrived at the objective. It looks like we may be encountering some resistance today and my team was hoping to get a peek at what we’re up against,” she explained.

              He hadn’t ask because he was concerned about the mission, he asked because the idea of being alone with Natalia scared the shit out of him. “I see,” the old man said slowly.

              “They sent me to fetch you,” the redhead explained. “Someone has set up a scrambler or something near the facility, so the communicators aren’t working.”

              “Wonderful,” he grumbled, forcing himself to keep his mind on the task at hand. The sooner they were done busting open this unsanctioned omnic research lab, the sooner everyone could go their separate ways. “Let’s go,” he said with a nod.

              Natalia quickly went back down a few rungs of the ladder before sliding the rest of the way, hopping out of the way of Soldier 76. “Wish my knees still recovered like that,” he thought to himself. The two of them ran through alleyways and quiet streets to avoid making too much of a scene, but then gunshots and a blast rang out. A siren blared and the residents of London were quick to scatter, giving Soldier 76 and Natalia plenty of room to sprint toward the rest of the team. As they passed the streets of King’s Row, memories of the Null Sector attack pushed the old soldier to move faster.

              By the time they arrived a firefight was already in full swing. Overwatch’s agents were reciprocating attacks from a group of unidentifiable assailants who held themselves like a trained militia. They were likely one of the many sets of mercenaries that cropped up to take advantage of the boiling tensions between omnics and humans in this country. This lot were particularly well organized and equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry. Natalia and 76 wasted to time jumping into the fray. She used her small SMG to take out anyone in her way, tossing out debilitating traps in her wake before darting off to slap a healing nanobot onto any teammate that needed one. The masked soldier covered her, launching rockets at any attacker that was causing them extra trouble. It wasn’t long before they were pushing the struggling enemy into a corner. Natalia was suddenly by his side, taking cover behind the car he’d been using to shield his lower half.

              “You good she asked,” reloading and taking inventory of her nanobots.

              “Always,” he replied, “you?”

              “Peachy keen,” she smiled up at him before shooting at a slippery bastard who had finally leaned out from behind a wall. He fell limp.

              “Nice shot,” he mused without thinking.

              “Thanks,” she said with an air of shock. The soldier was thankful for the mask covering his red cheeks. A few men came from behind an upturned truck across the way, and 76 instantly let loose a trio of rockets, blowing them all back. “You’re pretty damn impressive yourself,” she grinned.

              “I’m just doing my job,” he responded. An onslaught of bullets pointed in their direction silenced the banter. The car suddenly began to spark, and they both darted away, 76 kicking down a door to an old shop and slipping inside, Natalia close behind. They shot out the window together and the young woman continued to fire back as 76 reloaded.

              “Oh shit,” she whimpered quietly. He’d never heard that frightened strain in her voice before. The sound made his trigger finger itchy. Ready to helix rocket whoever was making fear creep into his daughter’s voice, Soldier 76 turned his rifle back to the fight. A massive man was aiming a plasma cannon at them. It fired.

              “Oh shit,” 76 whispered as he pulled Natalia close to him, placing his body between her and the blast. A rush of heat brushed over the top of them before they started falling. The old soldier felt something sharp pierce the flesh above his brow as the air was stripped from his lungs.

              He sputtered and gasped until he could breathe normally again – his giant electronic mask was great most of the time, but not at the moment. After a few moments of clutching his chest and listening to the ringing in his ears, the soldier looked around the dark hole he’d tumbled into. The only light in the basement came from the soft red glow of his visor, casting everything in a dismal light, especially Natalia’s crumpled body. He scrambled over to her in a horrified frenzy.

              “Natalia,” he said shakily putting a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move. He turned her over and scanned her for injuries, not at all relieved when he saw none. His mind instantly went to worst-case scenarios of internal bleeding and swelling near her brain. Staying as still as he could, the grey-haired man waited for her chest to rise and fall. After an excruciating few seconds, it did. She was alive. He sighed heavily and slumped forward. She was alive! “Thank God.” With a quick motion, 76 reached for his earpiece and tried to get someone, anyone on the comms. Just has Natalia had said, only static from a jamming signal greeted him. “Well, fuck,” he snarled, the pain from the injury above his eye was starting to give him grief now too.

              A soft groan escaped from Natalia as she twisted back onto her side, tucking her head under her arm. Her face was calm, as if she were just taking a nap on the sofa. If only. “Come on, little lady, time to get up,” he urged her gently. The tenderness in his voice took him off guard.

              “What now,” she said blinking back into consciousness. She looked around in confusion. “Where in the hell . . .” she began, then rubbed the bridge of the nose. “Oh right. Guess this place isn’t up to code, huh,” she said sarcastically before looking up to 76 with a wary smile. “You alright?”

              “Fine,” he lied. “How are you holding up?”

              She leaned forward to sit upright, rubbing her head. “I think I’m okay. I’ve got a bump, but it doesn’t seem to be too serious.” Natalia reached down to her belt and produced a small flashlight, pointing the beam above them. A pile of rubble was plugging the hole they had fallen through, but nothing else was coming down on top of them at the moment.

              “I suppose we’ll either have to wait for help or wait until – what happened to your head,” Natalia blurted, shining the light in 76’s face.

              “Nothing. We need to focus on – ” he tried to deflect.

              “That is not nothing,” the young woman said moving the flashlight along with the soldier’s attempts to hide his wound. “Good grief, you’ve got blood running past your chest,” she gasped.

              Soldier 76 looked down to see that she was right, and it wasn’t just a small trickle of red that had made its way to his stomach. “Oh,” he muttered as his brows flew up. He winced as the skin on his forehead moved.

              “We need to get you stitched up immediately,” she said professionally, grabbing a pack she always had strapped to her side.

              “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “We need to get out of here.”

              “You’re bleeding from your head due to a protruding piece of dirty metal. I have what I need to prevent an infection and keep you from passing out from blood loss. That’s the priority,” she said firmly.

              “Look, I’ve had a lot worse than this. I – ” He tried to get to his feet, but a wave of nausea forced him to sit back down with a huff. Maybe he’d lost more blood than he thought.

              Natalia had a hand on each of his shoulders and a worried look on her face when he looked back to her. “I – I’m okay. Just need a minute under the biotic field,” he grunted unconvincingly.

              “What you need is stitches,” she said scooting to his side, closer to the shrapnel lodged in his flesh. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “This won’t take long, I promise. Then we can work on getting out of here as much as you like.” He nodded. Her fingers felt warm and comforting against his sore forehead until the cool, numbing gel wiped all feeling from the area.

              “Can you feel that,” she asked.

              “No,” he responded.

              “How about that?”

              “No.”

              “Good,” she said inching closer. “Try not to move, I’m going to try to get this thing out.” A long minute passed in silence, Natalia’s hands still close to his face. The display of 76’s mask flashed a small warning symbol just as a tugging sensation made his upper body twinge.

              “That I felt.” He leaned away from her as she let out a strained noise.

              “It’s hooked under your mask or something,” she explained. “I need you to take it off.”

              His entire body tensed. “No,” he said, his voice almost cracking.

  ��           Natalia’s body shifted into his field of vision. “I get that you’re an anonymous vigilante and whatnot, but – ”

              “That’s not – ugh, just no,” he said more firmly.

              Natalia scowled. “I am helping you one way or another, whether you let me or not. Either you remove your mask now, or I pinch a pressure point until you pass out and then I remove it. Your choice.”

              They both frowned at one another until 76 went a little lightheaded and swayed backward just a bit. Natalia was quick to steady him.

              “Hey,” she said gravely, “you still with me?” He nodded sluggishly. “Then work with me here,” she pleaded. “I swear I won’t tell a soul what I see, you have my word.”

              The old man hadn’t felt this apprehensive about anything since he was offered the title of Strike-Commander, but he had to make sure Natalia got out of here. He wasn’t going to let this strong, talented, courageous young woman die in a hole just so he could keep his secret. With a shaky pair of hands, he pressed the buttons on the sides of his mask and began to slide the faceplate down the tracks that kept the visor so firmly in place. One of her hands clamped over his, making him jump.

              “That’s far enough,” Natalia all but whispered. She was trying to keep his privacy intact, but he was convinced it was already too late. The swiftness and confidence of her movements were gone, her fingers almost jittery as he watched them rummage around in her supply bag. She knew. What in god’s name was he going to do now?

              After a seemingly impossible amount of time, 76 felt a swath of cloth and medical tape cover his brow. “I’m finished,” Natalia said scooting away from him. The playful moxie that usually accompanied her speech was nowhere to be found. “The area is still going to be tender, but you should be able to put the mask back.”

              “Thank you,” he said gruffly, clicking his mask into its spot. He already felt better now that he was covered again.

              “Not a problem,” she said rolling her shoulders, looking more at ease than he was. “Just glad you’re not keeling over on me.”

              “Right,” he said awkwardly. Maybe she didn’t know. Natalia had probably only seen his brow, maybe the tops of his eyes, and the years had not been kind to him. Plenty of wrinkles and scars had spread across his skin since he had ‘died’. Maybe he wasn’t recognizable anymore. It wasn’t impossible, but his luck wasn’t usually that good. “You feeling okay,” he asked timidly.

              She shrugged, placing her flashlight so it illuminated both of them as much as possible. “Just sore. Guess I hit my head harder than I thought.”

              Soldier 76 plucked a biotic field canister from his arm and tossed it onto the ground between them, a soft golden glow circling them. “Better,” he asked after a moment.

              “Definitely,” she smiled, working the elastic out of her hair. “Thanks.”

              He nodded in response and looked around the room from his seat in the dust. They were walled in, rotten stairs laying in a heap in one corner and nothing but cobwebs in the others. “Much as I hate to admit it,” he grumbled, “I think we’re stuck waiting for an extract.”

              Natalia made her own survey of the room before agreeing. “Looks like it. Hopefully the rest of the building doesn’t come down on us in the meantime,” she said plopping her arms on her knees and resting her head in her hands. She gave him a curious once-over that made his palms sweat. “I bet you’ve been in stickier situations though,” she hinted.

              The soldier groaned at the dozens of memories bombarding him. “That I have.” He returned her questioning look with one of his own. “You?”

              “Me what,” she said toying with her fiery hair.

              “You haven’t been in Overwatch all that long, but I bet you’ve been caught in some shit with them.” He scolded himself for cursing in front of his daughter, then felt mortified for doing such a fatherly thing.

              The young woman laughed. “Yeah, we’ve gotten into the weeds once or twice, but nothing too rough. I learned my trade in the field though, long before I joined Overwatch, so nothing’s rattled me up too much yet.”

              “Military,” 76 questioned.

              “Yep,” she said staring off into the distance, gnawing her lip.

              “What made you do that,” he asked before he could bite his tongue.

              She gave him a slightly perturbed look. “You got a problem with it?”

              “No! No,” he said recoiling, “I just, you know, was curious.” Her glowering eyes didn’t move from him. “All I meant was that you don’t see a whole lot of people your age making that choice these days, what with omnics taking up most of the battlefield these days.”

              Natalia’s head bobbed to the side understandingly. “Good point.” She sighed and looked back to 76 with a sad look on her face. “Everyone else said things like that when decided to sign up, trying to change my mind, but I still went through with it.”

              “It’s not a bad thing to do,” 76 assured her, “to fight for your country, not the kind of thing people should chide you for.”

              “It wasn’t like that,” she replied shaking her head, “they were my friends, and they knew me. They were just trying to keep me from doing something for the wrong reasons.”

              “What do you – ” He stopped himself before making the same mistake twice.

              She chuckled quietly, “You can ask if you want, but only you promise not to judge me too harshly.”

              A ball of concern welled in Soldier 76’s gut, but he couldn’t convince himself to stop prying now. “I won’t judge you at all,” he said honestly.

              “Promise,” she said with a fake serious expression, grin still trying to pull up the edges of her mouth.

              He smiled and drew an ‘x’ over his chest. “On my honor.”

              “Says the masked man,” she scoffed.

              “Oof,” he said with a laugh, pretending his pride was wounded. “Now fess up, why’d you go and join the army if your heart wasn’t in it?”

              She laid down on the cold floor and looked up for a few pensive moments before letting out her sentence in one long exhale. “I joined up because that’s what my dad did when he was my age, not because I wanted to.”

              He froze in place, partly because her voice was so utterly filled with disappointment and partly because he was evidently the cause of it. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly, hoping he wasn’t pushing too far.

              Her head rolled over to look at him. “It’s a whole, long, dumb story about a stupid little girl feeling like she had to prove herself to a dead man.” She moaned, running her hands over her face. “I guess these days it’s about a stupid grown ass woman trying to prove herself to a dead man.”

              Natalia continued to stare at him, scrutinizing him, testing him. Or maybe he was reading too much into it. “Well,” he said clearing his throat uncomfortably, “I’m sure wherever your father is, he’s proud of you.”

              She snorted. “I don’t know about that.” They both sat in the silence, 76 at a loss for what to say. For a brief moment, he almost broke, nearly letting the truth spill from him in an attempt to make her feel better. Luckily, she spoke before he did. “But hey, there are worse things I could be doing with my life than fighting for peace.”

              “That’s true,” 76 said rubbing his neck. He suddenly felt very tired. “You ought to ease up on yourself, though.”

              “Ease up on myself,” she repeated with a quizzical look.

              “You seem like a good kid, and I’ve seen you do some real good work out there,” he said gingerly. “At the very least, you should be proud of yourself, no matter what anyone else thinks – dead or alive.”

              A wide, beautiful smile spread across Natalia’s face as she flushed. She was stunning. “Thanks, 76, that . . . that helps.”  

              He shrugged, “I do what I can. Taking down gangs, causing trouble for criminal empires, helping young women realize their potential – all in a day’s work for a renegade vigilante like myself.”

              Natalia burst out laughing, hugging her sides. “Holy shit, did you just make a joke?!”

              The old man frowned. “Is that so hard to believe?”

              “Um, yes. Yes it is,” she assured him. “Last time I worked with you, you hardly had two words to say to anyone, much less a light-hearted one. Even Torbjorn said you needed an attitude adjustment.”

              “That grumpy little man doesn’t get to whine about anyone’s mood,” 76 snapped. Natalia laughed again.

              “All I’m saying is you haven’t always been the most sociable man,” she clarified.

              “Yeah well,” he huffed, reverting back to his crochety ways, “maybe you’re the only Overwatch operative I can stand these days.”

              “These days?”

              He twitched, mind scrambling to recover. “I, um, worked with some of the old team years ago.”

              “Is that so,” she said narrowing her eyes.

              “It was ages ago, doubt they’d even remember me,” he lied a bit too quickly.

              “Uh-huh,” she said skeptically, “Guess you’d rather just not give them the chance to recognize you, yeah?”

              “Exactly,” he said feebly.

              “Whatever you say, hot shot.” Natalia stretched, rolling over onto her stomach. The silence that fell around them was more peaceful this time, and 76 allowed himself to enjoy the pleasant moment. The longer he sat with his daughter, the more he liked being around her. A loud rumble from above pulled the solider from his temporary reprieve. They both got to the feet and peered up.

              “Oi, Talia, can ya hear me,” came Lena’s excitable voice.

              “Tracer,” the young woman called in response, “is that you?”

              “Talia! I’m so glad you’re okay! You are okay, right,” the pilot asked in a concerned tone.

              “Yeah, I’m good, but I’d love to get out of this dank hole,” Natalia beamed.

              “We will have you out momentarily, my friend,” Reinhardt bellowed. Everything shook violently.

              “Be careful,” came Angela, sounding shrill and panicked. “We don’t want to drop all this debris on top of them!”

              “Calm yourself, Dr. Ziegler, I’m almost – ” Another crash. “Through!” The massive man rejoiced, laughing wildly.

              Light poured into the basement causing both Natalia and 76 to cover their faces. Tracer zipped to Natalia side and Angela floated down next to her.

              “You two took a hell of a spill, didn’t ya,” Lena laughed elbowing Natalia with a grin.

              “Meh, I’ve had worse,” Natalia said with a shrug, “but I do hate feeling trapped.” She looked up to Reinhardt. “Thank you for the rescue!”

              “My pleasure, missy, my pleasure.” The tall man bowed like a proper knight. “I will go alert the others that all is well. Join us at the ship when you are ready.”

              “Hey, don’t run off before giving us a way back up,” Tracer called after him.

              “Oh right,” Reinhardt said before using his shield to push an amalgamation of rubble over the edge of the hole in the ceiling, leaving a pile large enough for the others to clamber up. They all coughed through the dust.

              “Delicate as always,” Angela muttered once the man in plate mail had left. “Now, Natalia, are you feeling alright?”

              “I’m good,” the redhead said. “Better now that I can see the sky again.”

              “She hit her head,” 76 interjected, sending the blonde doctor on a quest to examine Natalia’s skull. Tracer ducked out the way.

              “Doc, Ang, I’m fine. Really,” Natalia said desperately trying to worm away from her mentor’s tight grip. Soldier 76 felt a little bad for selling his girl out.

              “I’ll be the judge of that,” Dr. Ziegler retorted.

              “He’s the one who needs a check-up,” Natalia said gesturing to the aging man, “Look at him! Man’s still covered in blood from his head wound.”

              Angela’s head whipped around and 76 stopped dead in his tracks. The soldier had been trying to back away – this was not the first time he had been on the receiving end of this doctor’s inspections, and he knew very well how through she could be when worried.

              “Goodness, Jack! Look at you!” Angela clearly hadn’t realized her mistake, but 76 had. He swallowed hard as Lena’s face contorted in confusion.

              “Jack,” the young Londoner questioned. A burst of clarity made her eyes go wide, as if something had clicked into place in her mind. “Jack! JACK! Holy shit, Jack!” Her long arms wrapped around the old man and he nearly toppled over as Lena hugged him. He didn’t know what to do, but one of 76’s arms automatically draped over the brunette’s back. Angela was looking between the soldier and Natalia frantically.

              Natalia’s body curled in on itself as if she’d been punched in the gut, arms wrapping around her chest. “Jack,” she choked out, “I thought I was just seeing things but . .  Jack?”

              “Yeah,” Tracer giggled, holding her former commander at arm’s length. “As in Commander Jack, damn, Morrison! What the hell, boss man, we all thought you were – oh.” Lena turned to Natalia with a worried look. “Talia, honey, you alright?”

              The redhead sputtered out a mess of syllables that made no sense before exploding out, “No I’m not alright! You’re, you’re not dead?!”

              Soldier 76 couldn’t find anything to say.

              “Nah, nah, nah,” Natailia said waving her hand furiously, “That’s not even the problem here. You,” she said storming up to Angela, “you knew about this?”

              Dr. Ziegler deflated, shrinking away from Natalia before nodded sheepishly. “Yes, I knew.”

              “And what, you just figured I didn’t need to know?!” The young woman was fuming, screaming incredulously.

              Angela fumbled over her words, which was something she never did. Soldier 76 stepped between them. “I asked her not to tell you,” he explained.

              Natalia’s fierce gaze snapped to him. “And just how long have the two of you been talking, huh? And,” she faltered, “and what has she been telling you?”

              The soldier had to force himself to breathe normally, the guilt clawing his chest making him shake. “She told me about you,” he said quietly, unable to look at anyone.

              “You. Told. Him,” she seethed. “You told him about me, but I didn’t get the same luxury!”

              “Talia, dear, I’m not saying what I did was right, but – ” Mercy said trying to find a decent excuse.

              “All those times I asked you about him, all those times you told me stories about him, all those times you comforted me when I felt overwhelmed by the fact that I was walking in the same halls he used walked in . . . I thought you were helping me, but you were just hiding. Lying to me.” Tears were slipping down her cheeks, making 76’s heart shudder.

              “No, Natalia I wasn’t lying to you,” Angela said putting a hand on the redhead’s arm just to have the young woman pull it away.

              “Don’t touch me,” Natalia whimpered. “I just – I don’t understand! You know how much this means to me, how much he means to me. Even if he wasn’t running to meet me, didn’t I at least have a right to know he was out there? Maybe it would have helped me move on, get past all these feelings of not being good enough. If he was out there and I knew he didn’t care, maybe I could finally accept it . . .” Natalia was hugging herself, rambling at the floor, voice heavy with impending sobs.

              “It wasn’t like that,” 76 said softly, “Angela wanted to tell you, but I convinced her not to. And it’s not that I didn’t care, I – ”

              “Don’t get me started on you 76,” Talia growled, “You sat down here with me and chatted like there was nothing going on! Like you weren’t keeping one hell of a secret! You even made me talk about how I felt about you! Son of a bitch,” she groaned turning red.

              “Natalia, just, try to relax for a second, please?” The second the words left his mouth 76 knew he’d made a mistake.

              “Relax?! What right do you have to tell me to relax?! You know what, enough. Enough of all this! I’m done with you two bastards.” She began to clamber up the pile of rubble and 76 instantly tried to pull her back. Natalia swatted him away and hopped over the ledge before running out of sight. The soldier and doctor were quick to follow, but Lena grabbed both of them.

              “Hey,” Tracer cooed gently, “maybe you guys should give her a sec.” Soldier 76 had almost forgotten she was there.

              “I have to go after her,” he said firmly. He’d pushed her aside for months and now that he’d been forced to spend some time with her, all the old man wanted to do was have her closeby again.

              “Hey,” Lena huffed angrily, “you went and gave yourself all sorts of time to adjust, but Talia just got bombarded. Let her wrap her mind around everything and I’m sure she’ll be back.”

              Soldier 76 sighed, all but rolling in his own self-pity. “I hope so.”

              “I know so,” his former cadet smiled, “She already loves you – always has.”

              That hurt. Because it was true. Natalia had always thought of him as family, but he had treated her as another burden to avoid. Screw avenging Overwatch, he was going to make things right by his daughter if it was the last thing he ever did.  

#they can't all be happy right?! #mine #writing #overwatch fanfic #overwatch drabble #drabble #my drabble #soldier 76 #reinhardt #tracer #mercy #natalia #daughter series

[the-real-d-sandman]

Ayy I finished the first thing I’ve written in awhile!  Well finished the prologue, but that’s an achievement for me!

It’s a BNHA fanfic technically, but it doesn’t really matter much yet.

That being said, I’m gonna post it, because I want feedback! It’s pretty short (1700 words).

- how do you like my writing style?

- how do you like the idea of the story (because if people like it, I’ll be more likely to finish it)

It’s below the cut obviously

Prologue:

Friday, December 5th. 1820 hours, Outskirts of Vladivostok, Russian Federation

           A thick coating of freshly fallen snow covered the ground outside the mayoral residence, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange hue to the wintry scene. Cars carrying the last workers home for the weekend could be heard off in the distance. Closer to the home, birds called from the trees and fluttered about, disturbing leaves and branches. And in the front yard, 2 boys, about 6 years old, played in the snow.

           One of the boys, wearing a quilted winter jacket and tuque with 2 tassels covering the ears, hovered about a foot off the ground with black feathered wings. The other, stood a couple feet away from him and looked to be concentrating.  Suddenly, a cartoonish dragon appeared out of thin air, and breathed a puff of smoke.  Laughing, the floating boy started to awkwardly move through the air away from the beast.  The dragon chased after him, doing somersaults through the air and occasionally letting out a spout of fire.

           The impromptu air show continued, both children laughing, and even the boy on the ground was chasing the pair around, despite being earthbound.  Through their laughter, the distant rumble of a car coming up the drive grew louder, and up the hill rolled an old maroon GAZ sedan with military plates.  The children stopped their game to look quizzically at the vehicle, and the man stepping out of the driver’s door.  Even the dragon looked over, before dissipating silently.

           Out stepped a tall gentleman, wearing a woolen overcoat and a flat cap.  His boots sank into the snow and he stretched before closing the door behind him, not bothering to lock it.  He glanced over at the children, having not noticed them before, and tipped the brim of his hat, passing them a friendly smile.  The boys waved back and followed the man with their eyes as he quickly strode up to the front door of the house and knocked briskly.

           A stocky man with a thick mustache opened the door, turning his head up to meet eyes with the taller man.

“Ivan! It’s been a while since I last saw you.” He chuckled nervously, “Longer still since we’ve met off an army base.  Did you need something? I would’ve expected you to call ahead.”

The taller man looked side-to-side, “I know, I’m sorry Mikhail, it’s just not something I’d want to speak about on the phone.”

This only seemed to confuse Mikhail more. Ivan clarified quietly, leaning in to make sure only he and the man in the doorway could hear. “It’s about your son.”

Mikhail’s eyes opened wide and he spoke, quieter than before “Alright, come inside than.”

He stepped aside and let Ivan in, before closing the door; he glanced outside at his son and gave him a smile and curt wave.  The boys, who had been watching the men talk, took that as a sign that the conversation didn’t concern them and returned to their games.

 The two men walked together into the kitchen and sat down at a small table situated in the middle of the room. They sat quietly looking at each other for a moment before Mikhail, spoke up.

“Well, if this is something urgent about my son, I suppose we don’t have much use for pleasantries.”  He leaned forward in his chair, “Tell me exactly what this is about, and why you felt it necessary to have such an abrupt meeting.”

Ivan hesitated, looking to down and to the left. Perhaps, thinking of exactly what to say, or whether or not he should say it. Perhaps he was wondering if this was a waste of time. Mikhail didn’t think so, and cleared his throat loudly, staring intently at Ivan. Ivan sighed, and began.

“Your son’s quirk, it is...” he took off his hat and held it in his hands. “It is something, very interesting.  Very versatile.” He met Mikhail’s worried gaze, “To some people, very powerful.”

He paused again and looked as if he was searching for more words to say. Mikhail cut in, hoping perhaps to spur further comment.

“Some people? What are- who are you talking about?” He grabbed Ivan’s shoulder and pulled him up so their eyes met again. “Is he in danger?”

He let go of Ivan and stood up, pacing around. “I don’t understand what you are getting at, Ivan! Surely my son couldn’t be in any danger! I’m the mayor of the most important city in Eastern Russia! No one would dare come after my son or my family!”

Mikhail grabbed the edge of the table and leaned in towards Ivan, “Tell me who it is! I’ll have police detective breaking in their door by tomorrow! I’ll- I’ll get the military in on it if need be! I’ve still got enough influence with command; I could have a company down here within a month with just a phone call.” He began to reach for his cellular, but Ivan grabbed his wrist forcefully.

“No, Mikhail! You don’t understand! It IS the military!  The military want your son!”

There was a tangible silence.  It seemed to last for several seconds. Even the birds had quieted down, leaving only the sound of distant cars and trucks. Shaking a bit now, Mikhail broke the quiet and moved back into the seat across from Ivan.

“W-what? The… The military wants my son?” He clasped his hand to his mouth. “But why? He’s only 6!”

Ivan sighed again. “I’ve been working with command on a secret new project.  Right now, maybe 6 or 7 people know about it.” He folded his hands and placed them on the table. “At first it seemed innocent enough; researching the applications of quirks in the military.  How individuals with different quirks could supplement soldiers and combat.  The sheer number of possible quirks makes it difficult to create strategies to utilize the quirks of different soldiers, especially when many soldiers might only serve for 2 or 3 years.  We started categorizing quirks and threw around the ideas of targeting specific types of quirks with recruitment material.”

He looked down at the table and shook his head.

“It was looking promising, but clearly not to the higher ups. They weren’t convinced that we could truly use quirks to their greatest potential with this method, that we’d be taking too many shortcuts for sake of ease.” He met Mikhail’s gaze again.

“This morning, they presented me with a plan, not an idea, an operation that was going to happen, regardless of what I thought.” Ivan balled his fists and slammed the table. “They went right over my head!”

He seethed for a moment, but regained his composure. “They’re going to abduct children with specific quirks. Train them from a young age, to use their quirks and turn them into efficient and lethal soldiers.”

Mikhail stared, agape with disbelief, “That’s… That’s ridiculous! They couldn’t! They wouldn’t!” He looked at Ivan, hoping that maybe this was just a joke for old time’s sake, but his old friend’s grim expression betrayed no jest. “Not my son.  I’m too important! Everyone would find out! It would be an international scandal!”

“They don’t care about who YOU are, Mikhail!” Ivan responded, “They only care about your son and his abilities.”

Mikhail’s voice rose, “And what of his abilities? He can conjure images and change others, but that’s hardly the makings of a…a ‘supersoldier’!  He’d make a better magician than an assassin!”

Ivan answered, frustrated, pointing a finger at Mikhail, “You know that’s only the beginning.  Who knows the limits of his quirk? The ability to manipulate photons, one of the key elements of space, of existence, of matter!  Photons create everything we see! Photons are what allow us to communicate over long distances! Photons are the energy the sun shines down upon us, the energy that plants need to live, the energy that powers our cities with solar cells!”

Another moment of silence passed before Ivan calmed down again. “They had a list.  50 or 60 names, from all over Russia, even some former SSRs.  Your son’s was the only one I recognized.  They are going to take him, Mikhail.  There’s nothing I can do to change their minds.”

Mikhail slumped back in his chair in resignation and covered his face. “What am I supposed to do then?? How long do I have??”

Ivan stood up from the chair and put his hat back on. “I do not know.  Perhaps you can get your son out of the country. They can track you easily, but they do not know what your son looks like, since census requires no photo for children. I can’t tell you to abandon your own son.” Ivan reached for the door, but stopped and looked back.

“If you have any foreign national relatives, you could call them. If your son is outside Russian jurisdiction, he should be safe.” He stood for a moment longer, but then hurriedly walked out the door.

Mikhail sat quietly in the kitchen. He heard Ivan’s GAZ back down the driveway and disappear into the rumble of the distant traffic. Mikhail sat and thought.  He thought about his military career.  How little those 20 years of his life meant to his country.  He thought of his son, how he would grow up indoctrinated into the Russian military, a government machine, serving unquestionably.

There was nothing he could do.  He had no relatives outside Russia.  His family had lived here for countless generations. They always married Russians and never left the country, even during the days of the USSR.  He remembered his grandfather always saying that non-Russians couldn’t be trusted, that they were taught to hate us.  Mikhail never believed that.  During his military service, he worked many times with foreign units, even volunteering to help organize joint exercises.  He made one of his best friends during one of those exercises and he would trust him with his life.

Mikhail sat straight up.  “Or my son’s life.”

On cue, his son, Iosif, slowly peaked around the door to the kitchen.

“Who was that?” he asked quizzically, pointing out the door.

Mikhail pulled his son close into a hug. “Just an old friend dropping by to say hello. Nothing to worry about.  Now son…” He moved his son back to arm’s length and looked into his eyes. “…how would you like to take a vacation to Japan?”

#pls #indulge me #i beg of you #fanfiction #bnha

[inudono]

Country in the Clouds - Venus of Mer

An excerpt from a story I’ve been writing on and off again for the longest time. I felt inspired recently and wanted to share. Any commentary or feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Legends tell the story of two colossal beings; Mer and Gaia, clashing in a never-ending struggle. After eons and eons of conflict, the bodies of these mighty figures were battered and broken, on the verge of death. If not for the arrival of Sol and Luna, their existence would have ended there. The two Goddesses merged the remains of these titans into one, creating the four Continents of Gaia, and the five Seas of Mer. Two immortal enemies, now bound as one for survival.

Deep beneath the crashing waves of the Great Central Sea, lies a kingdom untouched by the surface-dwelling races. A kingdom eponymous with the God of the Tides, Mer, and his lineage, the merfolk. Fish people, for the uneducated observer, merfolk were covered in smooth scales ranging between blue, green and yellow, had webbed digits on their hands and feet; which could morph into tails on a whim, and were known to be the greatest terrors among sailors and pirates alike. Their longships were capable of underwater travel, breaching the waves as easily as they could breach the hulls of surface vessels. Reavers and raiders by nature,  merfolk bands plunder the high seas more effectively and efficiently than even the most seasoned privateer. More often than not, a raid would merely consist of crippling a ship immediately without conflict and letting it sink down to the depths of Mer’Prima; their capital city, where it would then be scoured by civilians, uncontested.

More under the cut. Tagging some people who may be interested.

@perpetuallyfallingover @dancing-sword @the-foxwolf @baldore-of-the-boros @circlesmadeofglass @chelsea-beleren-vess

The sound of drums echoed between a pair of longships rising up from the depths. Venus gripped her trident and greatshield; filtering saltwater through her bright turquoise gills. The surface was mere moments away, yet each second felt like a full hour. The raider’s gaze turned from the approaching sea sky to her fellow sisters-in-arms standing next to her. Seasoned warriors, clad in the same hardened leathers and metals as she was. Each appeared calm and patient, though the new recruits seemed anxious to get to the bloodshed. Venus wondered if any were feeling as uneasy as she was.

This was her first assault on a large surface vessel. Venus had participated in several raids on coastal outlets and small islands, but attacking battleships was somewhat trickier. Venus did not underestimate surface pirates as most of her kin did. She knew they were capable fighters, and had witnessed them cut down several of her sisters in previous raids. As the hull of their quarry drew ever closer, Venus pushed back those unnecessary thoughts for later.

“Brace yourselves, sisters!” Jayah, the band leader shouted. “Plunder and glory await us!”

A collective battle-cry erupted between the longships; but was quickly silenced as the warrior-women witnessed the battering ship crash into the hull of the surface vessel with thunderous force, and then bounce off harmlessly. The ram attached to the port of the ship crunched under the pressure of the attack.

That wasn’t supposed to happen… Venus thought to herself.

“Mithril! The hull is mithril!” One of the raiders on the battering ship shouted to the others.

“Shit!” Jayah replied eloquently. “Prepare to surface! We’ll take this one with blood!”

The war-band let out another shout of approval at Jayah’s command. Venus’ anxiety grew. She knew of mithril and its uses on the surface world. It was a rare commodity; so what sort of resistance will the reavers encounter on the decks of this ship, if it was outlined with such a valuable substance? There was no time to ponder that outcome, as the twin longships breached the sea sky on adjacent sides of their target.

Fresh air filled Venus’ lungs as she, and her sisters readied their harpoons to board the surface vessel. Thankfully, the entire ship was not made of mithril and the merfolk’s keen eyes were able to pinpoint certain vulnerabilities that the harpoons could latch onto. Venus quickly scanned the deck of the enemy ship to see what she was dealing with. The majority of the crew comprised of elves and humans by the looks of it. She identified their captain; a high elf woman with long golden hair, and wide brimmed hat. Flanking her was a short, fat man in red robes, and a much taller, bearded man who seemed disoriented and out of place on this ship.

‘Venus!” Jayah shouted to her. “Quit daydreaming and board that ship!”

“Y-Yes, ma’am!” Venus readied her weapon and charged forward; leaping from the deck of her longship to the deck of their quarry. No blood had been spilt yet, but Venus soon discovered how many crew members this ship had. Several scores of fighters were emerging from the belly of the vessel, so many that each of her sisters were locked in combat with at least two of them. Venus did not doubt any of her comrades fighting ability; a merfolk warrior could handle two, even three surface-dwellers at once.

“Have at ya, fish wench!” A gravelly voiced human shouted to her. He flailed his cutlass in such a way that made Venus almost feel sorry for him as her shield connected to his face, breaking his nose and knocking him out cold. Another human appeared before her, perhaps to avenge his fallen ally. He did not last long either, as Venus sparred with him for a few moments, before he was disarmed, and tossed overboard. This cycle continued for a time, with unskilled privateers barring her way only to be struck down immediately. Venus gazed across the small battlefield. Her sisters were gaining ground, yet she could not shake this feeling of unease. She found herself face to face with the tall, bearded man she spotted earlier. He was wielding a strange, speckled longsword; a material she could not identify, though she noticed the man was holding the blade like an amateur, and not at all dressed for seafaring.

“You do not belong here.” Venus said to the bearded man.

“Tell me about it.” He replied. “I should be at home forging blades, not using them.”

A blacksmith then. Venus thought. “Lay down your arms, human. You may be spared.”

“I’ve learned not to trust the word of pirates, fish woman.” He charged, recklessly. Venus let out a small sigh, raising her shield to bash him, yet she was caught off guard when his strange blade carved deep into the aegis, nearly severing her arm holding it. Venus backed away quickly, and noticed even the man seemed surprised by the potency of his weapon.

“What manner of sword is that?!” Venus demanded. Merfolk armaments were forged of liquidsteel; an alloy found within the deepest trenches of the Great Central Sea. Submerged in water it is near weightless, and on the surface, nigh unbreakable. At least, that’s what Venus was lead to believe. Yet here stood a man; a tradesman of all beings, with a sword that cleaved into her shield like it was made of cloth.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss my trade, pirate.” The way he said ‘pirate’ caught her attention. There was such disdain and bile coated on the word as it left his lips.

What’s your story, human…? Venus thought, though not for long. There was a rumbling down below the decks of the ship.

“FALL BACK!!” She heard one of the raiders shout. Venus looked around quickly, and noticed her sisters were retreating back to their vessels.

What happened to our advantage? She wondered. Suddenly, a bright stream of fire scorched across the deck. Venus stumbled back and lost her footing, trying to determine its source. Her eyes turned to the robed, fat man. Scarlet flames danced across his fingertips as he unleashed another torrent of fire at a group of stragglers diving into the sea.

A mage?! How did she not realize sooner? A merfolk reaver may be worth two or three surface warriors; but a magister makes short work of any soldier, regardless of race or skill. Venus backed herself against the railing of the ship’s deck; her breathing becoming heavier and heavier, as she watched the fat man in robes wreak fiery devastation upon her sisters effortlessly.

Each passing second made it harder to breathe. Why? Surely her will was stronger than this. Venus shut her eyes tightly and shook her head, attempting to retreat back to the embrace of the Great Central Sea. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed how far away the ocean appeared. As Venus struggled to breathe more and more, the reason for her battalion’s sudden retreat became alarmingly clear.

This ship was flying.

#Country in the Clouds #writing post #Venus #merfolk

[ladyemeraude]

Nephrite/Masato Sanjouin Bio (my fanbased version)

Did a bio on Nephrite years ago and thought I would refit it since I rewrote the fics since then. This is basically how he is in my little "miniseries"  fanfic.   Name:Nephrite aka Masato Sanjouin Age: appears 19 Birthday: January 3 Astrological Sign: Capicorn Height:1.80m (5'11) Weight:73 kg Hair: chestnut brown, wavy, slightly past midback Eyes: sapphire blue Favorite Food: Chinese, Italian, Greek, gourmet, cheesecake, chocolate parfait, stir-fry, the occasional glass of wine Least Favorite Food: liver, kidney..basically anything that bothers his stomach immensely Hobbies: stargazing, going to the opera, meditating, playing tennis, hanging out with Naru Strong Points: loyal to those he protects, honorable, protective, charming, somewhat proper, calm, reserved, dignified, practical, intelligent Weak Points: slightly arrogant, used to be a bit deceptive(he eventually changes that), can have a horrible temper when ticked off, stubborn Has Trouble With:his pride at times Likes: the finer things in life, music, Naru, driving his Ferrari Dislikes: cowards, Beryl, idiots, bullies, control freaks, people with no decorum Fears: certain hospital equipment (the ones that would turn him into an experiment), losing his honor and dignity, losing Naru Abilities: flight, teleportation, levitation, telepathy,telekinesis,possessing with the magical crest, tapping into the stars, variations of his Starlight Attack,hand-to-hand combat, and is a superb swordsman History: Nephrite is the second shitennou of the Dark Kingdom. He used to serve alongside his fellow shitennou as Prince Endymioin's guardians before he surrendered his soul to Queen Metallia for power. Not very long after his conversion to the dark side, he was approached by three elite youma, who were initially under Beryl's servitude and desperate to escape that fate, requesting that he allow them to serve him. He was not particularly keen on the idea at first given his preference for solitude, but gave in, deciding there was no harm in having extra minions to do his bidding. It did not take him long to see how efficient and devoted they truly were, and he gradually came to tolerate their company, eventually enjoying it,even showing concern for them following the destruction of the Moon Kingdom. A millennia later, Beryl made the decision to reawaken Metallia from her dormancy in order to continue to wreak havoc on the universe. She recruited a lower ranked shitennou, Jadeite for the task of gathering energy, much to the dismay of Miki, Yukari and Ruby. They felt Nephrite was far more worthy of that post. Despite finding the decision unwise, Nephrite encouraged the henchwomen to remain patient, reminding them there were ways to take advantage of the waiting period. During that time they monitored Jadeite's progress (or lack thereof), and Nephrite familiarized himself with the human culture, wishing to see if it was the same as before he had surrendered his soul, not to mention he had grown quite weary of Beryl's affinities. It was also part of his plan to strategize and perfect his plan for when he became commander. It wasn't long before Beryl's patience with Jadeite's failures came to an end, but using Thetis in his scheme without her permission sealed his fate. This was good news for the trio of youma, who were desperate for their master to get the position he deserved. Nephrite had been rather stoic about the matter, but showed his glee at witnessing Jadeite being cast into Eternal Sleep and reminded himself to succeed so he wouldn't suffer the same fate. He informed Beryl of his capability of gathering more energy from one person than Jadeite was able to collect from a massive crowd. Whilst the witch queen was somewhat intrigued, his arch-rival Zoisite poked fun of him for being ambitious, which earned the sakura a tongue-lashing from the henchwomen. Nephrite merely dismissed the younger shitennou, and Beryl approved his plan. He used the power of the stars to seek his victim, and Ruby provided him with a magical energy draining crystal ball that would enable him to still have the energy captured even if the senshi interfered. She and the other henchwomen were eager to aid him in any way, and although he preferred working alone, he saw how astute, proficient and efficient they were so he assured them they would be granted the opportunity to. He used helpful advice and flattery to ensnare his victims before cursing their items with the magical crest. Due to the crystal ball he received, he was partially successful in his scheme. However, Beryl was concerned about why he had so much trouble defeating the senshi when he did such a commendable job capturing the energy. Zoisite appeared and feigned concern as well, offering to assist. Beryl ordered the star shitennou to work alongside with the sakura shitennou, but Nephrite flatly refused, angering the queen with his defiance and arrogance. Zoisite, however, was thoroughly tickled, as it meant Beryl was losing faith in Nephrite. Just like previous times, the star shitennou succeeded in capturing the energy but failed to defeat the senshi. It was then Nephrite decided the failures were becoming quite bothersome and decided to take matters into his own hands, telling his henchwomen they could assist him,much to their delight. He used the stars to find out Sailor Moon's greatest weakness and was confident he would defeat her, as he was hitting her where it hurt most. He sent love letters signed Tuxedo Mask to all the girls that attended Juuban Junior High, believing he would lure Sailor Moon into his trap that way. Before that night, he crossed paths with Naru, after having met her at a tennis tournament a week prior and having a rather interesting encounter he didn't care to repeat. She asked him if he wrote the love letters, causing him to grow suspicious that she was Sailor Moon. Brushing that thought aside, he told her he would love to spend an evening with her and left. On the following night, Naru came to see Nephrite before time so she could have some alone time with him. She told him she loved him. He thought she was trying to seduce him, and so he captured her energy, rendering her unconscious in the process. He felt maybe she could be of use for future schemes and knew he would need her unharmed for that, so he requested that Ruby take her to the hospital. Soon after,  Sailor Moon showed up and he revealed his true identity before increasing his energies and summoning Leo the Lion.  At that moment, the real Tuxedo Mask arrived, furious about the trickery. He told Moon to escape, but Nephrite called for Leo to attack her. The monstrous lion proceeded its ferocious onslaught, severely wounding the heroine. Tuxedo Mask sprung into action to rescue her, but the trio of youma blocked his way and challenged him. It was an even match, but much to the masked man's horror, the moon senshi was a bloodied mess. Nephrite laughed as Tuxedo Mask took her into an elevator as it was the final part of his trap. He and his youma left in satisfaction, only to discover later from Beryl that somehow Moon managed to survive. However, he was able to escape being punished due to the love energy from Naru. He returned to his mansion, summoning an image of the red head girl. He realized his anger might make her suspicious of him and knew that was not a luxury he could afford if he intended to use her to assist him, so he did a memory wipe of the incident. He was partly grateful to her, but mostly amused that she was foolish enough to fall for his disguise without knowing his true nature. Nephrite later decided it was time he unleash his most powerful battle youma, Castor and Pollux, desperate to dispose of the senshi once and for all. Knowing it would take much energy, he sought out a victim who would be more productive than usual, who turned out to be animator Hiromi Matsuno. After possessing her pencil, he encountered Sailor Mercury standing on the roof of his car. Enraged by her audacity to do such a thing, he simply knocked her off and warned her about his powerful youma before speeding off. Feeling a bit less stressed, he treated himself to a glass of white wine and some gourmet chocolate chip cookies his henchwomen had baked before continuing to monitor Hiromi's energy progress. Once it reached its peak, Nephrite seized it and summoned the Gemini Twins, this time inviting Zoisite to watch the battle. It took everything the trio of youma had to not show their uneasiness, although they understood Nephrite's reasoning. Castor and Pollux proved to be quite formidable with their ability to imitate the attacks of Mars and Mercury. Unfortunately, they got into a heated argument over who would finish the senshi, which nearly gave the girls an opening for a counterattack. Not wanting the twins to die as a result of rivalry, Nephrite ordered them to retreat from battle. This was a subject of ridicule for Zoisite, but Nephrite shrugged it off, knowing he had gathered more than enough energy to revive Queen Metallia. Several weeks later, Beryl announced the arrival of Princess Diamond and mentioned that the princess could be in possession of the legendary ginzuishou, which peaked Nephrite's interest. Although finding the ginzuishou was originally Zoisite's job, Beryl gave it to the star shitennou so he would have a chance to achieve greater success, bringing the sakura shitennou to tears of anger. Oblivious to this, Nephrite hatched his plans to investigate, accepting assistance from his henchwomen again. Once at the party, he noticed Naru standing in a corner alone. He approached her and they  shared a dance together. The star shitennou then led her out on the balcony and flattered her before possessing her with his shadow. He then alerted his trio of youma that it was time to put the scheme into motion. Princess Diamond, possessed, came outside, and  Nephrite ordered her to hand over the crystal. As she prepared to throw it to him, she was stopped by Sailor Moon, only for the possessed princess to push her over the balcony. Luckily for the moon senshi, Tuxedo Mask caught her before she plummeted to her death. Infuriated at Moon's attempt to foil Nephrite's plan, Ruby attacked her, wounding her and retrieving the treasure from the princess. The red head youma then delivered it to the star shitennou, who gleefully accepted it. He got a feeling he should make sure it was the artifact he was sent for and followed his instincts, his feelings of exhilaration fading upon realizing it was the wrong crystal. His henchwomen were furious as well. Trying to suppress the anger, Nephrite prepared to launch an attack at Tuxedo Mask. Before he could, Mars launched her attack at the veteran shitennou. Ruby was able to create a shield to protect her master, redirecting the attack at the senshi of fire. Having managed to hold off two of the senshi, Ruby, along with the twins, turned their assault on Tuxedo Mask, causing him to nearly lose his grip on Sailor Moon and both of them to fall over the balcony. Luna quickly tossed the parasol to Moon, and so she used it to allow her and the masked man to safely glide them to the ground. Nephrite and his trio of youma fled the scene, disgusted at the time wasted. It was then they resolved to quit following Beryl's orders completely. Such defiance proved to be Nephrite's downfall as the witch queen grew extremely livid, Ruby getting a taste of it as she sassed Beryl. Nephrite was unaware of this, trying to concoct a scheme to locate the ginzuishou until interrupted by Zoisite, who "advised" him to teach his minions respect and to step aside. Naturally Nephrite would have none of it, and vowed to make the younger shitennou look like a failure. Zoisite swore revenge and left, whilst Nephrite secretly swore for allowing someone like Zoisite to rattle him. After taking a moment to compose himself, Nephrite tapped into the stars' powers, channeling his energy to create an object that would guide him to the ginziushou, the kurozuishou. The dark colored crystal glowed, revealing an image of Naru, causing the star shitennou to conclude the red head was in possession of the ginzuishou and making him freeze in surprise. He then went to make plans with his henchwomen.   An argument Naru had with her best friend over Masato Sanjouin's true nature left her unable to concentrate on her studying. However, a phone call from Nephrite asking her to meet him at a nearby park cheered her up considerably. She didn't think twice and wasting no time at all, she changed shoes and headed to the park, picking a rose on the way. She was filled with anxiety as she wondered what was up but at the same time she didn't care as she was just happy to hear from him. She gave him the rose she picked, which he gratefully accepted despite his surprise. He feigned regret for making the young girl come out late and was nearly distracted when she expressed her joy at him calling her. Her joy faded when the star shitennou said he was saying goodbye as she figured it was because he was tired of someone as young as she was bothering him. He quickly denied it, explaining he just didn't want her to be hurt, which confused Naru. He went on to say he was being targeted by dangerous people and he liked her too much to see her involved. Naru's confusion turned into worry at this, and she instantly asked what she could do to help. He made brief mention of the ginzuishou, then told her to forget it, as if to show he had doubts whether she knew what he meant. Naru, however, recalled her mom speaking of a rare gem. Thinking that might be it, she ran off to retrieve it, only to be caught by her mother. Unable to think of a decent explanation, she mumbled an apology and ran out of the store. Mrs. Osaka could only stare after her daughter and wonder what her actions were all about. She went out to look for the young teen, bumping into Usagi and Luna. She frantically notified them of the situation, and an infuriated Usagi ran off to find her friend, determined to smooth things over and make her understand.

Naru watched Nephrite intently as he tested the rare gem with his kurozuishou, looking both anxious and pleased with herself. It was all Nephrite could do not to look disgusted because it was not the ginzuishou, but an ordinary jewel.He then gave a confused frown as the kurozuishou began to glow.He saw it was reacting to the girl herself, which peaked his curiosity about her even more. He asked her to come with him, which didn't take much coaxing. He placed an arm around her shoulders to lead her away, oblivious to Yasha spying on them. However, his henchwomen spotted her and were instantly repulsed. Not wanting to give the monster too much thought, the women refocused their attention on Nephrite and Naru. Despite being disdainful of the girl at first, they couldn't help but feel slightly intrigued watching her and their master together. Before Nephrite could lead the red-head too far, they heard an all-too familiar voice yelling for them to stop. Much to Nephrite's displeasure, it was his archenemy Sailor Moon. He warned her not to meddle in his affairs, but she simply ignored him, delivering her speech. Naru grew nervous and also a bit irritated, but did her best to suppress both feelings, not wanting to get into another dispute. Instead she protested she wasn't in danger, but the blonde superheroine gave her the shock of the evening, telling her who the young man really was. Naru had her doubts about whether hearing the same speech again was a coincidence, but she felt too drained to be angry this time. She turned to the man who had her affections and asked him to confirm the blonde was lying. Instead, he fired a burst of star energy, knocking Moon off her feet with great force. He missed with his other variations of the attack. Undaunted, he vowed she would not escape again. Hearing the voices of Mercury and Mars gave the moon senshi much joy, along with a boost to her confidence. Nephrite taunted the girls that he would kill all of them at once and prepared to launch his attack. Mercury used her bubbles to disorient him, and Mars shot her fireball at which point Naru quickly pushed him out of the way. The senshi were positively dumbfounded by such an action, and so was Nephrite. Not only was the girl not frightened away, but she defended him despite his true colors.While he appeared to be distracted, Moon took it as her cue and tossed her tiara at him. The star shitennou cursed loudly as he was frozen with fear and knew he would be at least fatally wounded. Much to his and the senshi's surprise,Naru dashed in front of him and spread her arms out. He chided the teen girl for her recklessness, but she was determined to protect him.Filled with fear, Moon yelled for the tiara to stop, which it did before falling on the ground.Naru gave the senshi a hard look whilst declaring she would not allow Nephrite to be harmed by them. Mercury tried to reason with her and Mars ordered her to step aside, but the red head was defiant. Nephrite marveled at her strong desire to protect him. Mercury questioned Naru about protecting the young man. She admitted with tears streaming down her face that she loved him with all of her heart and she would rather die than see him get hurt or killed. Moon wanted to protest, but was at a loss for words. After a brief period of silence, Nephrite's trio of youma appeared before Naru, bewildering the girl.Ruby introduced all of them,and thanked her for protecting the star shitennou. Naru wasn't entirely sure what to make of the ladies, but felt warm inside by their gratitude.The kurozuishou started glowing again, and Nephrite wondered if it was possibly reacting to Naru's deep love for him. All of a sudden, he heard a shrill voice asking him if he had the ginzuishou. The creature revealed itself before trying to snatch the crystal from him. He knocked her hands away, but dropped it in the process. Naru picked it up, and Yasha lunged at the young girl, causing her to cry out in fear. On impulse, the star shitennou fired a burst of star power at the creature, splitting her mask in two. The senshi of the moon was amazed by this and for Naru, it confirmed that he indeed felt something for her. The emotional episode caused her to faint. Nephrite stared at his hands as if to show his disbelief at protecting a mortal girl. Yasha revealed her true form and unleashed her attack on the dark general,which he evaded. The creature continued to berate him, which prompted an attack from Yukari. In a twist of fate, the brunette youma ordered Moon to deliver the final blow. Wasting very little time, the moon senshi did as she was told, all the while thinking how odd it was for a Dark Kingdom agent to fight on her side. Nephrite wrote down his contact info on a small piece of paper, placing it and the rare gem into an unconscious Naru's hand before turning to leave. Sailor Moon thanked him for saving Naru's life, and he dismissed it, indicating it may never happen again. He requested Ruby to escort the young girl home before taking his leave. The twin youma left as well, whilst Ruby carried out her master's orders. During the early hours in the morning, Nephrite returned to Naru's room. Before he could get too distracted by how beautiful he thought she looked while asleep, his kurozuishou started glowing again. It was still a mystery since he never came to a proper conclusion. He wondered if maybe the ginzuishou was inside her body. To test this theory, he allowed his kurozuishou to hover over the girl's body. It projected a beam of energy, providing a transparent view. However, there was no gem resembling the ginzuishou. Nephrite was perplexed at first, but his mind replayed the encounter with Naru just hours prior. The kurozuishou reacted whenever her love for him was shown. That was when he got his answer. It did little to help soothe his complicated feelings about why the kurozuishou had not done its job, and what he would do about this revelation. Late the next night, Nephrite was still trying to ponder the previous day's events and what course of action he should take about his most recent discovery. He no longer had any use for the kurozuishou, but that was only one of several dilemmas he was faced with. Once again, his mind drifted to Naru, her smile and the deep love she had for him, despite seeing his true colors. All of that made his heart feel warm inside, which he found ludicrous. His musings were interrupted by Ruby appearing before him to find out about his next move as well as discuss what she and the twins had been thinking. She asked him how he felt about the girl and he admitted he had feelings for her. Try as he may to deny it in the past, he couldn't any longer. The cherry-haired youma also told the star shitennou he should leave the Dark Kingdom, at which he was taken aback, but she reasoned with him reminding him how fond he was of certain aspects of planet Earth. He couldn't deny that, either, and conceded he would give her advice some thought. She warned him to be careful, which he acknowledged. Nephrite recalled how vehement the moon senshi was when she warned Naru about him, and found it odd unless she knew the red-head. And he knew if he did end up leaving the Dark Kingdom, he would need to know of Moon's identity so he could see her whenever he wished. He believed who better to get the information from than Naru, and disappeared from the mansion. Unbeknownst to him, Zoisite was there and heard his musings about the kurozuishou, as well as his conversation with Ruby, and decided he would keep a close eye on the elder general. Ruby caught a glimpse of the sakura shitennou just before he left, and got a bad taste in her mouth, so she decided to go to keep watch on him. Nephrite appeared in Naru's room, spending a few minutes watching her sleep. He was moved by how peaceful she looked. To avoid getting too distracted, he hid behind the curtain, which roused the young girl from her sleep. She was surprised but also quite happy to see him. He told her his real name and how much he regretted deceiving her for so long. She assured him he was forgiven, and he proceeded to tell her how she impacted his life, not to mention that of his chief henchwomen. Naru felt her heart melting by this, and she asked Nephrite to come closer, for she also had something to tell him. He obliged by sitting next to her, having a hunch about what the red head wished to say.She told him for the second time she loved him, adding that she had since the moment they met. He told her he loved her too, and it took everything in her not to cry tears of happiness. He then asked her if she knew where to find Sailor Moon, for he wished to fight alongside her. The red-head tearfully told him she didn't, since the heroine only showed up when there was trouble. Nephrite wiped her tears away and told her to contact him when she found out. He gave her a peck on her cheek before exiting the bedroom. However, he made sure to remain nearby. He was curious to see the action she intended to take, given the tenacity she possessed. Meanwhile, Zoisite, along with three plant youma were spying on the veteran shitennou. While he made no mention of the ginzuishou, the fact that he cared deeply for a human gave them another reason to plot his demise. The plant sister known as Grape wanted to kill him right away, but Zoisite told her not to be hasty, for Nephrite was a fierce warrior and that blindly rushing into battle would only get themselves hurt or even killed. He suggested kidnapping Naru and setting a trap. Suzuran, who had only been listening, asked whether it involved Nephrite's henchwomen, too, and Zoisite said to leave them be for a bit. The Plant Sisters left to set the nefarious plan into motion, Zoisite smirking to himself. Naru was wide awake, both from Nephrite's confession and the situation he was in. She wracked her brain for a way to help him, then remembered the conversation she had with Usagi that afternoon and how her best friend had sounded slightly more supportive. She got the phone and dialed the blonde's number, feeling guilty for calling so late, not to mention worried that no one would be awake.A wave of relief washed over her when Mrs. Tsukino answered and put her on hold. Usagi came to the phone, albeit groggy, and Naru told her what occurred during Nephrite's visit, breaking down in tears at how useless she felt. Although hidden, Nephrite listened to the entire conversation, smiling to himself when Naru hung up, for he had gotten his answer. He went by the street light and made himself invisible, keeping watch for the young girl. He was pretty sure she would not deny Naru assistance, and so therefore, she would be playing into his hands in the process. Using his magic, he warped the road so that it would appear crooked and watched as his nemesis struggled. His lips curled into a smile when she transformed, and he materialized, making the road normal again. He thanked the moon heroine for revealing her identity, coercing her to admit it when she squirmed. It came as no surprise to him, but he secretly hoped she would keep it together for once, so he decided to test her. The fact that she was such a stammering mess had not helped matters, until she managed to prick his conscience, which sounded a lot like Naru. He assured Moon her secret was safe with him, to which their first civil conversation ensued. There was still a bit of tension in the air, however, so the star shitennou considered it a good thing when his trio of youma appeared. The relief faded when Ruby mentioned Zoisite and his youma were up to no good. Her warning was cut off by Naru crying out for help and Nephrite caught on to what the red head youma was trying to tell him. He told Moon they would meet again before disappearing with his trio of henchwomen. As quick as Nephrite and his trio of youma were, Naru's kidnapper was quicker because when they got to the room, it was empty, save for a small piece of paper on the bed. Nephrite picked it up to read. The writer of it demanded for him to hand over his kurozuishou if he wanted Naru's life to be spared.For a moment he burned with anger at Zoisite's level of insolence, then an image of Naru laughing and running towards him popped into his head.He crumpled the note in his hand, engulfing it in flames. Miki asked him about it and when Nephrite told her, she and the other two youma were just as enraged. Not wanting to be useless in such a detrimental situation, Yukari suggested she and the other two young women come with Nephrite just in case he was walking into a trap. The star shitennou gave them the green light on the condition that they remained hidden. The youma trio agreed, as they had heard when Suzuran ask whether to kill them too. They waited as Nephrite ordered the kurozuishou to show him Naru's whereabouts, which it did instantaneously. According to the black crystal, she was at an abandoned nightclub called Rag Time. They all teleported to the site together, the trio of youma concealing themselves as Nephrite ascended the stairs. When he was about halfway down, he saw the Plant Sisters watching him intently. He gave them a brief stare of death and then averted his eyes toward Naru, who was bound to an overturned table. The star shitennou more or less expected such a set up, but it still infuriated him all the same. Naru cried out a warning to look out, and the next thing he knew, a barrage of small grenades were headed his way. He quickly avoided the onslaught, and while Suzuran's sonic waves did little to faze him, they threw him off, causing him to land awkwardly and nearly stumble. Even with that minor setback, the sisters were simply no match for the shitennou in terms of strength and even speed. He conjured his star-sword, reducing two of the plant creatures to ribbons. Facing off against Grape was a bit more challenging, but he dodged her vine arm with ease. He chopped it off and bisected her for the final blow.  Knowing the destruction of the sisters wouldn't be enough for his rival shitennou to leave him be, he pulled out his kurozuishou and crushed it in his gloved hand, letting the shards litter the ground. He wandered over to the young girl, exchanged a loving gaze with her and used the sword to slice the ropes that ensnared her. He then picked her up and carried her out, taking her back home.Not long after he gently rested the red head down, she embraced him and thanked him for rescuing her. Nephrite told her how much he wanted to make up for having lied so much to her in the past, and she embraced him again, telling him he already had, as she got the feeling he had a good heart deep down. For a moment, he seemed a bit perplexed by her words and her affection towards him. Naru remembered back at the battle with the Plant Sisters, Nephrite appeared to have hurt his ankle. She was sure of it when she noticed him limping slightly while bringing her home. She inquired whether he felt any pain, and he confirmed that he was, knowing she wouldn't buy it if he told her otherwise. As soon as he sat on the young teen's bed, she had him remove his boot, which he did without question. She gave him a gentle massage and tore a piece of cloth from her pajama to wrap the ankle. He thanked her, retrieved the boot and gingerly stood up, deciding the soreness was nothing he couldn't handle. He gave Naru a quick hug before disappearing from the room. After giving Ruby instructions to watch over Naru, Nephrite left with the twins. Ruby took Naru to the mansion to visit with Nephrite the next day as the red head was concerned that the ankle injury was worse than she was led to believe, and bothered that he got it on her account. He considered her visit to be a pleasant surprise, but it pained him to see her in emotional distress. She voiced her concerns to him and he reassured her that she wasn't at fault. Feeling a sense of relief, Naru mentioned to the reformed star shitennou how it had always been a dream of hers to share a chocolate parfait with him. He promised they could make it happen, at which her eyes brightened. This would be the beginning of their courtship until the young girl was old enough for a long term committed relationship. In regards to aiding the senshi, he opted to keep a low profile, assisting them in an inconspicuous manner.

#nephrite sailormoon headcanon bio

[herperlo-d]

How To Be A Saviour Without Trying

In which Tseng meets Cloud way before CC and as a result, saves the future

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Interlude 1] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

Chapter 6: Get Angry, Solve a Mystery

Reno was good at being a Turk- excellent at it even. Need to assassinate someone? He’s your man. Need to get information out of a super-secure facility? Give him the name and you’ll have it within a week or less. Need to hack a computer? He could do it right here, right now. Ask, with the right amount of money and he’ll do it for you, and if he can’t, he’d ask (read: blackmail) someone to do it for you. Either way, he’ll get the job done.

Being a Turk was easy- it’s nice; a very welcomed change from the slums under the plate. He gets a roof over his head, three meals a day, a steady income and a much longer life expectancy. Not only that, the best thing about being a Turk was that he gets a family he never had- a little dysfunctional, but still a family that he treasures with all the heart he has left. He honestly never thought that he could ever get something like this; not until a scary Wutai dude he tried to pickpocket on a dare picked him off the street and dumped his filthy ass in front of the head Turk.

Gaia bless Tseng.

Reno unashamedly admits that he was a great hellion to everyone those few months into Turk initiation (A.K.A death camp). But in his defence, the initiation itself wasn’t a very nice process either and he guessed that his hellion ways had paid off, seeing that he was here in a Turk suit and the other initiates were either six feet under or locked tight under nondisclosure agreements. He concedes that he may or may not have caused Tseng early wrinkles and grey hair- plausible deniability and all that jazz. The law jargons were mostly Rude’s strong suit.

Other than Tseng (the Bossman) who he totally loves in a completely platonic way, there was Rude, his partner- the bestest partner anyone could ever wish for. Man, Gaia bless Rude too, that big softie. Rude can deny it all he likes, but Reno was a hundred percent sure that he saw him happily playing with the village kids that one time they visited Kalm.

Now, back to the Bossman. A Gaia-sent he was, a saint he was not. You should hear the company gossip about that guy. In terms of sheer intimidation, Tseng was nearly on par with the SOLDIER generals. Reno always loved to use the ‘If you don’t wanna tell me, I could always get Tseng.’ line to intimidate people into talking. Works ever time. (Shut up Rude. If it works, don’t question the method.)

Apparently, if you were to believe the rumours, the Bossman once went on a mission to Nibelheim during a blizzard and survived the sub-zero hostile conditions wearing only his Turk suit. He also defeated a feral, fully-grown Nibel dragon and a pack of mako-crazed Nibel wolves together with only his bare hands. There was a group of cadets who swore up and down that they once saw the Bossman make a notorious gangster boss cry in less than ten seconds then proceeded to single-handedly take on and destroy the rest of the man’s gang without breaking a sweat.

Reno cackled loudly to himself, leaning back on his office chair and spun around obnoxiously with his legs splayed- just because he could. How ridiculous. The Bossman was good- scarily efficient and horrendously competent at everything- but he didn’t think that any of that was possible for a non-mako enhanced person… Well, except for the one about making the gangster boss cry. That once was quite believable. The Bossman… was very good at making people cry with only his works. Veld always loved to send Tseng when that time of the year for budget meetings rolled around again. There was a reason why the budget for the Department of Administrative Research was secretly the largest behind the Science Department. The Military and Weapons Development Department may pretend all they like, but the Turk’s budget had been higher than theirs for the past three years.

Reno, being the rebel that he was, almost always gets into trouble, which leads him to getting a long rehearsed dressing down from Tseng at the end of the day. Rude, being the awesome partner he was never leaves Reno to get scolded alone. Reno was this close to proclaiming his eternal love for that guy. They must have been soul mates in another life.

Anyway, he’s getting off track. The year after he became an official Turk was one of the most blissful years of his life- until the week of the opening of the SOLDIER applications.

Worst. Week. Of. His. Life.

Seriously. It was even worse than that time he had to dress in drag and hide in the Honeybee Inn for five whole agonising days (don’t ask). It had been horrifically traumatic. Everyday was just work, work and more work. Just when he thinks that he’d finished his pile, a gopher comes by to dump another pile on his desk. Gaia damn these SOLDIER wannabes.

When day three of Hell Week dawned, Reno was so ready to set his whole desk on fire just to get away from the disgusting paperwork. But being a total mind reader, Tseng glared at him from his office and very calmly told him to get back to work. Honestly, what must a guy do to get a break around here?

Then something worse happened. The Bossman became cranky. It was Reno’s worst nightmares come true. As Hell Week progressed, the Bossman just became more and more irritable. And when the Bossman gets irritated, he gets mean. On a particularly bad day, Reno honest-to-Gaia saw the Bossman make fifteen different people cry. He would swear on his custom made electric rod that one of them was a SOLDIER Third. It wasn’t even a sniffling kind of crying, but an all out bawling, questioning-your-usefulness-in-life kind of crying. Turk recruits were dropping out left and right like flies hit with pesticide.

Reno was utterly terrified.

Rude was just mystified at his partner’s sudden good behaviour, but being the greatest partner he was, he just shrugged and went on with his work. Reno was definitely buying a wedding ring for him the moment they get some free time. Do wedding earrings count?

Reno prayed for a miracle to happen every night.

And a miracle came.

The Bossman came into the office one morning with a smile. A smile! Reno had shocked himself with his electric rod to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. The smile wasn’t really noticeable, but Reno spent a better part of the year learning how to read the Bossman’s limited facial expressions and that small tick of his lips was practically a beaming grin. Reno just had to find out what made the Bossman so happy.

Did he finally get laid? Find The One? Get the jackpot in the lottery? Reno was dying of curiosity, but he knew better than to snoop around his desk. The Bossman always knew when someone touched his stuff. He learnt his lesson from the last time he tried to snoop. (Let’s just say that the sewers are an awful place to do missions in and leave it at that)

He even calmly (not)-shouted at Reno to redo his paperwork only once. It was creepy. He asked around, but it seemed like nobody knew why the Bossman was in such a good mood. It doesn’t matter. Reno will be watching him carefully and the Bossman will definitely slip up sooner or later. He could be patient when he wanted to.

_________

Cloud glared at the innocent package resting on his bunk. It dully stared back at him. Cloud rubbed his eyes and slowly counted backward from ten. Nope, it was still there, in all its plain paper glory. Cloud paced from one side of his bunk to the other, examining the package in all directions, but nothing could prove that it was anything other than an ordinary square box wrapped in brown paper and woollen twine. It was ordinary enough, commonly found in any shop above the plate, but what had Cloud so suspicious was the fact that he knew of no reason why someone would give him a gift- and also that he was reasonable sure that this was from the same person who had given him that salve.

Once was bad enough, but twice? This was serious.

Plucking up his courage, Cloud carefully pulled on the twine and unwrapped the package. A thick blanket fell out, as well as six vials containing strange liquids and a weird bracelet that had two semi-spherical indents of about half an inch in diameter. Cloud picked up the vials first. Just as he had suspected, the same neat handwriting greeted him. The six vials were each labelled ‘Potion’, ‘Hi-Potion’, ‘Ether’, ‘Elixir’, ‘Antidote’ and ‘Remedy’.

Cloud stared, gobsmacked, at the vials in his hands and boggled at the amount of money that had just been given to him. If he remembered correctly, the Ether alone cost about one thousand and five hundred Gil and the Remedy added another thousand Gil to the whole package.

Cloud… was struck speechless. Just who was sending him these things?

He placed the vials aside- he’d think about it later. Right now he was still in shock. Picking up the bracelet, he turned the odd thing in his hands. It was made of steel and gold with titanium lining the indents, curving outwards like a mini clasp. Cloud slid the bracelet onto his wrist and it rested a little loosely on his bony wrists. Looking closer, Cloud realised that the indents were the perfect size to fit his materia. Fishing one from his locker, Cloud slid it into one of the indents and it fixed into place with a soft click. Almost instantly, Cloud could feel the power of the Fire materia swirling through the bracelet, waiting for his command. He marvelled at the bracelet, popping out the materia and popping it back in just to feel the rush of power, ready for him to use.

A memory surfaced in his mind, unbidden.

A chat beside a roaring fire, feeling more relaxed than he had for a long time- a sense of annoyance at the strange man-Tseng- sitting across him.

‘What did you equip it with?’

Cloud didn’t know what the Hel he meant by equip so he said exactly that to Tseng, watching with a bit of satisfaction when Tseng’s eyebrow rose in surprise.

Was this what he meant? Cloud took off the bracelet again and turned it here and there, watching the shiny metal reflect the artificial lights above head. The accessory looked brand new and very expensive. Cloud licked his lips nervously, rubbing the smooth face of the bracelet with his thumb. He set the bracelet aside with the vials and picked up the final item from the package- the blanket.

In contrast with the other gifts this one looked the least expensive, but it was still worth a lot, in terms of sentimental value. The blanket was obviously old and home made, soft cotton patches sewed together lovingly to make a beautiful patchwork of colours and material to form a large, thick, cosy quilt. Cloud ran a finger down the stitches. Some of them were uneven and roughly done. There were patches of cloth that were sewn together using the same thread, but they were clearly different than other patches, some looking older as though the quilt was made bits at a time then sewn together. Cloud also spotted some areas where some of the stitches were pulled out and redone or were pulled too tightly. Underneath the patchwork, a different material served as a bottom layer, sealing in the feathers stuffed into the quilt. It was a half-silky half-grainy material that shifted easily under Cloud’s hands. From the stitching at the corners, Cloud could tell that the second layer was only added recently, much later after the original layer was completed.

Cloud folded back the blanket and pressed it to his lap, thinking hard to himself. He picked at the blanket, rubbing it between his fingers. Could it be a gift from a friend? Cloud half dismissed that thought. There was no way that Lee or any of his group mates could afford any of the gifts, even if they had pooled their money together. But then, the was one other…

The foreign silky material became whole easily under his needle and thread. Cloud looked over to the sleeping man laid across the furs not two metres away and went back to mending the torn clothing.

‘Tseng of the Turks, nice to meet you.’

Cloud mentally laughed at the weird name, and offered Tseng of the Turks some wolf meat.

‘Turk is another name for the Department of Administrative Research of the Shinra Electric Power Company.’

Affection, comfort.

Don’t go so soon.

We’ll meet again.

Cloud shook his head and scoffed to himself. As if that was remotely possible. Gaia only knew if Tseng would even still remember that kid from some cold ass mountain he nearly died on.

Cloud heard footsteps coming down the corridor and quickly packed up the gifts, storing them neatly in the false bottom of his locker with the helf-empty jar of bruise salve and the box of Asfel.

Not a second later, Lee and his group mates burst the room to drag him out for their next class, chatting happily about how he had finally managed to master that flip he had been agonising over for the past week. Cloud smiled a little under the easy conversation. All thoughts of the gifts were pushed to the back of his mind for later examination.

_________

There was a prickling feeling at the back of his neck.

Someone was watching him.

Cloud casually glanced around him, but couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. His eyes narrowed. That was the third time in a day he felt that someone was staring at him. At first the feeling hadn’t been so obvious, but as he settled into his routines and became more comfortable with the area, instincts honed by years of hunting and being hunted zeroed in on the observing presence. The person didn’t have any malicious intent, if not Cloud would have noticed the person a lot sooner, but it was persistent and a complete unknown, which set Cloud on edge. His fingers itched for his knives and materia, but they were still safely stored in his locker.

Cloud’s brows furrowed in mild annoyance. The prickling feeling had come and gone for the past week or two and it was driving him to near paranoia. Lee had taken to following him around more when he realised that Cloud was flinching at nothing during random moments of the day, sometimes acting completely normal for a couple of days before that agitated buzz caught up with him again. Cloud appreciated his concern, but the situation was driving him to wits end. He felt boxed in and suspicious at everything and everyone. The mysterious, expensive gifts hadn’t helped any, even if they were useful.

The prickling sensation was back and Cloud immediately whirled around, ignoring Lee’s indignant squawk at being ignored, and scanned the long walkway. He spotted a person turning away, rounding the corner at the end of the hall, a familiar blue cloth fluttering behind them.

Cloud let out a silent snarl and sprinted after the stranger- his stalker, dodging the other cadets, Lee running after him, shouting out questions. Cloud gritted his teeth and slid past the corner, boots squeaking on the floor as he caught his footing and abruptly changed directions, only to slam headfirst into someone’s chest.

“Woah there! Careful with where you’re going, squirt. What’s gotten you in such a rush?”

Shit.

#Fix-It #FFVII #tseng #reno #turks #how to be a saviour without trying #bamf!cloud #Dork!Tseng #My writing

[dracolord1208]

The Scientist and The Revolutionary

Dracolord1208

AO3

Summary:

After years of disinterest, Tracer decides to us the recall and restart Overwatch. Two new members of Overwatch will have to deal with the hardships of being heroes in these uncertain times. A failed mad Vishkar scientist named Junkrat and a Revolutionary commander named Symmetra who brought balance to India will have to work together and bring Overwatch back to greatness.

“Are you sure about this Lena?”

Tracer had been looking at her computer screen for a while her cursor hovering over the Recall Program for some time. “The world needs more heroes I have to activate the recall.”

“But Overwatch was disbanded for good reasons. The team became too unstable. Teammates were seen as expendable and were often left for dead.”

“That’s not going to happen this time Emily. This time I am going to lead the team. We aren’t going just to be an army that only cares about winning no matter the cost. This time we are going to be heroes. We save everyone no matter the risk. No one gets left behind, no one will be forgotten.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get the team back.”

After Overwatch was disbanded the members of the team found themselves scattered around the world. Tracer finally decided that enough time had passed and that the world would have to be ready because this time Overwatch was going to be its best.

The recall fired this widespread message across the world.

“The world could always have more heroes. When you go to sleep, do you think that you have done enough or do you feel like there was more you could do? Well, Overwatch is back for that purpose. We are going to be the heroes that this world needs.”

Soon enough Overwatch was back, with old and new faces joining.

One of the first people who joined Overwatch was a mad scientist that was done being ostracized by his peers, Jamison Fawkes A.K.A Junkrat.

Junkrat had been working as a Vishkar scientist for as long as he could remember. Vishkar had provided relief to Australia during the omnic crisis allowing Australia to mount a defensive against the omnic threat. During this time Jamison was recruited as a scientist due to his interest in chemistry. Jamison took to chemistry like no one could have predicted. He loved studying the chaos of the artificial world. He found that he enjoyed figuring out how the random nature of DNA would react to different chemicals. In time Jamison discovered that radioactive materials provided him the results he desired.

Jamison’s inventions, however, were not held to the same standard as he was. Although Jamison was a brilliant scientist that produced more inventions in a month than other researchers did in a year they often were seen as failures. His project was often dismissed as unsellable or non-practical with a majority of then being thrown in the trash. With this amount of junk, he was producing he was given the unfortunate nickname of Junkrat.

Junkrat did, however, create his signature equipment during this time. Junkrat built his microwave projector, isotope turrets, and his mobile teleporter. Junkrat’s style of fighting was designed to literary microwave his victim’s from the inside out. Jamison also carried a scavenged teleporter from the shutdown omnium, on his back so he can teleport his allies to his location at any time.

Junkrat joined Overwatch due to Vishkar’s constant pressure on him. While all of his inventions were marvelous leaps in scientific advancements converting them into practical and sellable versions was often impossible or unreasonably expensive Vishkar would deny all of them. Junkrat only decided he had enough of it so he decided to quit and join Overwatch with the hope that his inventions would be appreciated.

Another new member that replied to the recall was the legendary revolutionary leader of the Junkers Satya Vaswani A.K.A Symmetra.

Satya Vaswani would have been another name lost to poverty in Hyderabad if it were not for the Omnic crisis. People say that the omnic’s only came to India twice. The first wave was a complete massacre the omnic’s aimed to bring down the government to weaken the nation then come back to destroy the survivors. The second wave of omnics didn’t know what hit them. A girl whose family was lost to the first wave quickly organized a new fighting force, to combat the second wave. At sixteen she had an army under her control and with her brutally efficient strategies the omnic’s were beaten out of India within ten years.

Satya created her army from the ground up. She started by organizing the poor around her to raid the remnants of the war zone. Her small group is earning the name the Junker’s. As time passed, the Junker’s grew their forces into an efficient and brutal strike force. Satya in time became to be known as Symmetra for her role in bringing balance to India.

Symmetra personally specialized in explosives. She was able to craft shape charges that would render identical symmetrical explosions every time. She carried a grenade launcher that she wielded like a surgeon, with each round finding is a destination to cause the most damage possible. Symmetra was known for her shaped charges that would allow for her to drastically change the flow of battle by opening new paths in the field. Satya also carried around her GBB (Good Bye Bomb), this explosive was able to bring down entire buildings in a second if she wished.

Symmetra responded to the recall because she believed in the organization’s purpose. While Symmetra did not agree with Overwatch’s method, she decided that there needs to be a force of hope. Having to lead, a war Symmetra knew better than anyone else that hope for the future was the most compelling motivation on the planet. This time, however, Symmetra would make sure that Overwatch stayed the symbol of hope that she always knew it could be.

“Welcome to the team Symmetra.” Tracer was the first person to greet Symmetra as she arrived at the base.

“Thank you. I look forward to working together with you.”

“It’s an honor to work alongside you as well. Your reputation proceeds you, your exploits and skills will be much appreciated.”

“Your reputation is also well known. Tracer the best pilot the world has ever seen with the use of your slipstream you can instantly change the flow of battle with its teleportation technology. The skill it takes to take in your surroundings instantly and to react accordingly is something that I wish to see someday.”

“Aw shucks, flattery will get you far, but unfortunately, I am already taken.” Tracer then proceeded to show off her ring. “My wife would not be that happy with me if I strayed from the path.”

“Shame.” Symmetra responded while feigning to be much more distraught than she was.

“So how about a tour?”

“That would be lovely.”

Tracer then showed Symmetra all over the base.

“And here we have the workshop. This will be where you can work on restocking on your supplies. Oh, Junkrat is in there right now why don’t we get you two introduced.”

Junkrat what kind of name is that? As they entered the workshop, they observed Junkrat working on something inside of a glass box with his arms through gloves that gave him access to its interior.

“Only 400,000 milliRem!? By my calculations, this isotope should be producing another 75,000 milliRem at the minimum.” Junkrat had moved to read the results of his experiment as the two approached. Junkrat scratched at the stubble on his chin as he lifted an arm in frustration. He then began to type furiously on his computer without even noticing the women standing behind him.

“Hey Junkrat how’s it going.”

Jumping in his seat, Junkrat responded to Tracer without looking up from his computer. “’Ello, Tracer thought I told yah to stop calling me Junkrat.”

“Aw come on we’re heroes now we need code names and cool stuff like that.”

“Whatever. So what can I help you with today?”

“Well, this here is Symmetra.”

“Hello.”

“Yip!” Junkrat had finally turned to see the two of them. As Junkrat had turned, he was meet with the vision of an angel. This woman before him was the most impressive thing he had ever seen in his life. This lady in front of him with her beautiful black hair, her dark skin, and her rudimentary prosthetic arm was perfect.

Don’t fuck this up. Junkrat began to repeat this mantra in his head a hundred times a minute.

“Hello. Ho, who, who, hello?” Junkrat cursed at himself for stuttering.

“Hello.”

“Who are you? I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting before.”

“We haven’t. My name is Symmetra.”

“Symmetra! As in the Symmetra. The Symmetra that at sixteen raised an army to fight the omnics in India and won.”

“Yes that is me, and it sounds like you know me already, it is unfair that I do not know anything about you.”

“Oh well uh, I am uh Junkrat. Well, my names Jamison, Jamison Fawkes. I don’t like the name Junkrat, but it is my call sign so feel free to use it.”

“Well, what to do around here Jamison.”

Suddenly filled with pride Jamison started to explain his role. “Well, I am the team, resident mad scientist. Hahaha. I work here to create new tech for the team to use. When I used to work for Vishkar, they would go out of their way to deny all sorts of my tech due to the cost of production. But here at Overwatch, I can make anything I want and as long as it’s useful someone will use it.”

Symmetra had since begun to go through the lab and was observing all of the different inventions that he had made. “You created all of this?”

“Yep.”

“Amazing. During the war, we had to scrap both sides of the war to get weapons and armor, if we had someone as adept as creating tools as you are we probably could have won even faster. This is very impressive.”

“No, you don’t have to flatter me.”

“No I mean it is very impressive. I can’t wait to work together.”

Junkrat felt his eyes begin to sting with the tale tail signs of tears. Jamison had wanted that level of recognition his entire life and this new woman standing in front of him had said everything like it was nothing. “I love you,” Junkrat whispered as he turned around and to cover his face with his arm.

“What was that?”

“Thank you, I am also looking forward to working together with you.”

“Have a good day.”

“You two.”

Symmetra and Tracer left the workshop and continued their tour.

“So Jamison, is he also taken?”

“Who that goof? No, why?”

“No reason, just thinking out loud.”

Notes:

Howdy. So I really like this universe, and I have a lot of ideas of what I can do with it, so there will probably be a second chapter at the minimum, and this could even be bigger depending on feedback. I hope you all have a good week and life. I love all of you. My Tumblr is http://dracolord1208.tumblr.com/

Series this work belongs to:

« Part 4 of the Draco's Junkmetra Week series

#symmrat week 2017 #junkmetra #symmrat #draco original #junkrat #symmetra #day 4 #Overwatch

[creativitytoexplore]

[AA] The Punk. https://ift.tt/3phGRux

‘Bang.’ Paul Buchanan’s ears cried out. A strong ringing resided within the walls of his skull for a moment, reverberating the obnoxious blare back and forth between his stirrup, hammer and anvil until his brain caught wind of itself. The musty smell of discharged sulphur was similar to his mother’s famous burnt steak, all the way back home in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. But Paul was far from Point Pleasant, he was currently caught in a moment of panic somewhere north of Saigon, Vietnam. You see, the year was 1972, the second to last year of American involvement in the Vietnam war, and Paul’s platoon, known as Peeler Squad, was on lookout duty, manning a small camp and acting as the first line of defence in the event that the Vietcong made a push for the capital of Vietnam, Saigon. The Punk was probably the closest thing the Vietnam war had ever seen to a real life G.I Joe action figure. Any closer to him and he would have been made of plastic. Buchanan had earned the callsign of ‘The Punk’ due to his reckless nature and his tendency to disobey the orders of his Commanding Officer, Commander Thorne. The only justifiable reason The Punk hadn't been discharged from the military already was because he was one of the most efficient, capable and competent soldiers the army had planted in Vietnam. At the adolescent age of twenty three, The Punk had already managed to earn himself a nifty scar going from the right side of his lip down to his chin back in some bar in Charleston. His eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, sharp enough to pierce military kevlar, He sported a classic military buzz cut, leaving very little of his gorgeous blonde hair left, only a coarse and rough stubble to match his face. Paired alongside his square nose and bushy eyebrows, he made quite the handsome man. The Punk never got along well with others, leaving him mainly isolated in the jungle, despite having his platoon for company. He left school at fifteen, in an attempt to join the army, not realizing he was too young. His reckless nature earned him the respect of Peeler Squad, when it usually paid off on missions, but lost the trust of Commander Thorne and became nothing more than a loose cannon in his eyes. Alerted by the gunshot that so rudely awoke him, The Punk rushed to his feet, the musty smell of gunpowder lingering in the air and pulsating through his nostrils. He grabbed his light machine gun, an M-60, which most American troops were armed with. The Punk cocked his eyes, scanning the jungle expertly for his platoon. He felt the warm hug of the sunlight, breaking through the thick jungle canopy, wrapping around the land with its great, golden arms. If Paul's past experiences could tell him anything, it would be how dangerous the Viet Cong were, once encountered within the deep recesses of the great Vietnamese jungles. The Viet Cong were expert guerilla fighters, using their vast knowledge of the local land to coordinate attacks upon the South Vietnamese and American Troops. While he searched, he saw nothing, but he was certain that the Viet Cong could see him. Whoever the mysterious shooter was, they could not be far. Examining the empty campsite for clues, the camp that Peeler Squad had settled in had three tents, each with one inhabitant that utilised the lousy excuse of bunks and tables that they had been supplied with. A single firepit brought each tent together into one communal area, in which the platoon would sit around, reciting old stories of the glories of childhood and past battles. While scanning the area for his two fellow squad members, Paul caught a glimpse of a pair of footsteps. One pair per tent. They were intertwined by a mud path that led further into the claustrophobic, damp jungle. The Punk maneuvered his way cautiously down the mud path, leaves brushing off his coarsely shaven head as he followed the ominous footsteps, ready for a fight. Not long after, Paul came to a clearing. He sensed he was heavily outgunned, and assumed the rest of the platoon was probably on their way to some rotten bamboo cage, filled with American corpses on the north side of Vietnam. Paul set down his clunky equipment and his M-60 upon the muddy, leaf covered detritus and bent down to his knees, ready for surrender. As he closed his eyes, the enthusiastic, outspoken and oblivious whistles of the neighbouring birds reverberated through his skull, like a peaceful gunshot and yet an angel's hymn simultaneously. The birds inadvertently created one magnificent symphony, briefly diverting Pauls attention away from the thought of the brutal torture he believed awaited him. The stridulation of the shrouded cicadas created an ever-present cacophony, denying any and all trespassers to their sanctuary the prospect of appreciating the silence of their jungle. The natural beauty was swiftly interrupted by a barrage of gunfire from a machine gun, darting over the space above Paul's head. Unfortunately for his assailant, The Punk was extremely well versed in his knowledge of firearms. He opened his eyes, let out a huge sigh of relief, stood himself up straight, and began to speak in his deep, but amused West Virginian accent; “All right, all right, Treeleaves, you got me, kid. You had me worried there for a hot minute though, I gotta hand it to you.” The Punk could recognise the tickle of an American M-60 machine gun anywhere. The Viet Cong only carried crude, homemade rifles constructed out of PVC pipes and copper, or they carried high class Soviet weaponry, supplied by the Reds themselves, with the sound of each being easily recognisable to any trained soldier. The man whom Paul identified as Treeleaves, was no other than his close friend and fellow squadmate. Treeleaves stepped out from the thick, emerald leaves of the nearby tree, revealing his face in the glorious sunlight. Bradley Smith, aka ‘Treeleaves’, was an Alaskan straight out of Anchorage. He gained the first half of the Treeleaves callsign from his height. The man was a giant, standing at a lumbering 6”3, making Paul look like a punk standing next to him, incidentally. As for the second half, Smith gained it from his reputation of always bringing a little fun to the party. Treeleaves always carried a few 10 gram bags of dope to share around with the rest of Peeler squad. He disregarded the military buzz cut rule as soon as he entered the deep jungle, away from commanding officers, and let his hair grow out. Bradley had healthy, brown hair that reached all the way down to his ears and matched his brown, African-American skin tone. He was only seventeen years old and one of the latest victims to conscription. His mother and father were the religious zealots of their neighbourhood, back in Anchorage and had condemned ‘the devils lettuce’ their little Bradley had found himself so fond of. Understandably, Old Mr and Mrs Smith gave the word to the local recruiters and ‘Treeleaves’ as he became known, found his way deep into the Vietnamese jungle, just to be assigned to Peeler Squad. The teenager was giddy after pulling a prank on the closest person he had to a friend, with his acne ridden face and gleaming white teeth, he stood hunched over with laughter as the kid he was, giggling like a hyena, upon exiting the bushes to greet Paul. The friendliest face of the bunch, Bradley always managed to set the mood for the rest of the squad, sometimes swapping roles between the kid of the group, into the mature, well needed leader they required, when Captain Stewart was too busy not caring about them. Captain Grant Stewart was the lazy Captain standing beside Treeleaves, with his face rooted firmly in a playboy magazine. Grant Stewart was a stern man in his early forties who miraculously managed to crawl his way up to the rank of captain and just about hung on to the military, way past the recommended age of thirty five. He wasn't a bad guy or anything, he just came off like a selfish jerk, who didn't care about anybody else. He had definitely seen some stuff though, and you could tell there was a grizzled war hero back with a heart back there, buried somewhere. But for now, the black haired, stubble covered, cigar-smoking ugly bastard was amusing young Bradley with his extreme wakeup call. Stewart hid his black, balding hair with an Olive helmet and cast the most unwelcoming look from his deep brown eyes, especially when compared alongside the grinning Bradley. Bradley and Captain Stewart stood, Bradley set his recently discharged, shiny M-60 down on the ground. The Punk gave Treeleaves a playful nudge on the shoulder. “You goddamn schemer, I coulda killed you dead, I hope you know”, The Punk said sternly. Bradley bantered back with Paul, “Nahhhhh, my grandpappy could probably shoot straighter than you and he's been dead for fifteen years! I was giving you a very special wake up call and plus, it was old Stewart’s idea in the first place.” The Punk glanced over at the moody Captain, who was nose deep in the latest edition of Playboy magazine. “Is that true, Captain?” Paul tested him to see if he was even listening. “Uhhh yeah, um sure, kid” Stewart replied inattentively, and unaware of what he was asked. “Alright, well whatever the case we oughta head back over to the camp, Thornes probaby pinging the radio like crazy for our wake up”, Treeleaves announced, as if overtaken by the need to take over the mantle of leader, seeing Stewarts laziness, as his opportunity. The platoon headed back to camp, with Treeleaves taking lead like a valiant soldier and with The Punk and the Captain not too far behind. The Punk arrived not long after retracing the footsteps that initially led him there, although this time, he had some well needed company in the form of Peeler Squad. As he set his legs up upon his bunk, the dusty, large radio that sat upon the table in Stewarts room began to signal an incoming call. “Get up and get that, captain!” Paul shouted, in a tone that desperately seemed to want to go back to sleep after all the useless commotion that had awoke him. Captain Stewart huffed. He was lazy but he followed Commander Thornes orders, like a good soldier. He arose from his bunk and made his way over to the small wooden table that the radio was resting on. He picked up the clunky, dusted technology to hear Commander Thorne’s gravely voice on the other end. In a voice not too dissimilar from a stereotypical drill sergeant, Thorne began to scream,with his voice, clearly accented from the deep south pouring out of the speaker of the radio “PEELER SQUAD, REPORT IN, YOU INTOLERABLE SCUMBAGS, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WAKE UP CALL UNTIL I MAKE MY WAY OUT THERE AND WAKE YOU BASTARDS UP MYSELF! Captain Stewart replied in typical Stewart fashion; by not giving a damn. “Awh come on now Thorne, you know better than anyone that we were up at the crack of dawn hunting for the Reds and helping your sorry asses in holdin Saigon.” Paul and Bradley had to hand it to old Stewart, he was the only one who personally knew Thorne, and knew him well enough to know how to make him go back on himself. Thorne sighed, audibly beaten and slightly embarrassed, “Alright. I suppose that's okay then. Captain Stewart, but in future I ask for you three to bring that radio with you on any future early morning expeditions and the next time we don't get a reply, I’m coming out there to deal with you fellas myself, and I will NOT be as forgiving! Anyways, I have other news to report that I hope y’all will be happy to hear, seeing as you boys love to leave that camp so much. A private, by the name of Carl Jennings has gone missing on a stealth operation to scout the area north of your camp for potential base locations.” As Thorne calmed himself, his fiery voice extinguished, turning the loud radio call to a quiet, private conversation between himself and Captain Stewart. As Stewart sat down, he took out a small, blue notepad and began writing notes for this operation. Paul hesitantly sat with Bradley by the firepit and began to play a game of poker to pass the time while Stewart was being given some sort of secret information to scrawl in his notepad. About five minutes into the poker game, Stewart sat up from his chair and began to holler orders. “All right, fellas. Special day. We’ve got to cross into Viet Cong turf and look for the private known as Carl Jennings.” Treeleaves picked himself up, took a military stance and asked eagerly; “Um, Captain, who's gonna be taking charge of this mission?” Stewart didn't want to be in charge anyways, so he responded; “Go crazy, kid, it's all you. Simple mission, about 40 klicks north of here, we’re looking for a tall, african-american guy, probably dead in some crocodile's lair, but as long as we find what's left of him, we’re going home heroes. Treeleaves grinned. The kid loved nothing more than being put in charge so he could feel like the big man and make his parents back home finally proud of him, and maybe accept him back home. “Alrighty troops, this trip is looking to be about 8 hours, but only if we keep pace! As long as nothing unexpected occurs we could make it home for nightfall. Now let's get ready to kick some ass!”, he hollered enthusiastically. Captain Stewart went to the arms cabinet he kept in his tent and tossed a few fragmentation grenades and the mysterious blue notepad into his satchel. Treeleaves grabbed the essentials, including marijuana and a spyglass, that could prove useful in surveying locations. The Punk grabbed his freshly cleaned M-60 machine gun, lugged its belt over his shoulder and into a cradle around his waist, before grabbing his swiss army knife that his mother gave him back in Point Pleasant. Paul rarely followed orders, but under Treeleaves, he felt like it’d be a good idea to play along with him, since he was only a teenager and doing so might make him feel better about himself. He enjoyed seeing Treeleaves actually enjoying the adventure, opposed to most other guys his age, who seek the adventure, but all they get is PTSD and their legs blown off, or even worse, killed. When they had all supplies necessary packed, the trio headed north through the dense jungle. As Peeler Squad trudged onwards through the dense jungle, and thick bamboo, things seemed serene. The birds were chirping, the cicadas stridulating and the sun was shining a gleaming glow through the cracks of the green canopy. After the third and a half hour of the journey, it dawned upon Treeleaves how boring an 8 hour walk could really be. The green of his surroundings poised a question, to which his response was the marijuana he had packed. As he pulled a 10 gram bag out of his satchel, He offered a joint to The Punk and to the gruff Captain Stewart , to which The Punk graciously declined out of respect for the mission. While he was reckless and didn’t usually follow orders very well, The Punk was well aware of the risks that came attached to being high on such a crucial operation, an operation that could potentially result in the life or death for Private Jennings. Paul was not prepared mentally to have the blood of Private Jennings on his hands. If his reaction time was even half a second off, Peeler squad could be wiped out in just a moment. Stewart on the other hand gladly accepted the offer of the joint and began to smoke with Treeleaves. Many drags later, Stewart began to tumble out a few words that eventually rolled themselves into a few sentences that seemed heavily out of character for the battered soldier. His speech was slurred, but he still began to speak; “You know, at the end of the day, I actually do love you guys. I really do. Soo much. So so so much. I just don't really fit in, I really don't and I know that. Like you guys are young and you have the cool soldier callsigns and you probably got loads of babes back home but I don't. My wife left me a few years ago for a girl. I’m useless. I got nobody. Not even a cool callsign like The Punk or Treeleaves or whatever, I’m just the grumpy old Captain to you guys. What's even lousier is that I signed up for this shit. I wasn't conscripted. I’m too old. I had nobody at home. I came here because if I’m gonna die anyways, I want it to be for a cause. I just want you guys to know that while I dont show it, I am happy as Larry to have you guys as my only two friends.” Bradley and Grant embraced in a goofy hug, the two of them flying as high as kites. While Paul didn’t join the uncanny new friends in their hug, he smiled, having not seen the humanised side of Stewart before. It entered Paul's head that he could perhaps make some friends, and become more than a merciless soldier. Hours passed of clawing through the dense foliage, and Treeleaves noted that the map indicated that they had left Southern Vietnam and they had entered into the North, which was controlled by the Viet Cong and backed by the Soviets. As they continued on, Bradley bantered with Grant and offered him another pull of his joint. But before Grant could accept, the trio came to a clearing, and the air went cold. The once enthusiastic and outspoken whistles of the neighbouring birds had now fallen dead silent. The cicadas had paused their humming. For the first time since The Punk had arrived in Vietnam, he heard total silence. “What had interrupted them? Something was seriously wrong.“ Thousands of different thoughts flooded The Punks brain, as he searched his mind for an outcome that didn't end with the death of him or his squadmates. The silence was ultimately interrupted violently, by a shaky barrage of gunfire from an unidentified weapon, stinging the air just overhead. The Punks lungs became heavy, as if replaced by stones. He was now certain. That was no M-60. That was the noise of a crude, homemade weapon, cobbled together from copper and PVC pipes. Viet Cong. “Alright. It's them. Fellas, lets just stay calm,I’ll…uh we’ll think of something”. The Punk was out of ideas. From the thick bushes stepped a group of shadowy figures. Stepping into the golden sunlight, there appeared to be about five or six vietnamese rice farmers, wielding homemade rifles. They began furiously shouting in vietnamese; “Bạn đang xâm phạm tài sản cá nhân! Hãy bỏ đi ngay bây giờ và chúng tôi sẽ tha mạng cho bạn, vì chúng tôi không tham gia vào cuộc chiến ngớ ngẩn này!” The Punk had no idea what any of that meant, but it couldn't have been good. “Any plans?”, The Punk asked Grant in a frightened tone, hoping his years of experience would kick in. Captain Stewart dropped his weapon. “Listen up.” The Captain began to speak in a conflicted tone, “When I say ‘GO!’, you fellas better run for your lives.” Treeleaves and The Punk shared a confused look with Grant “I hope you guys know you made this old Captain happy for one last day. Enjoy your lives, and get out of this damn jungle as soon as you can.” He shuffled around in his satchel and tugged on a fragmentation grenade. “GO!” Before Bradley or Paul had any time to reason with him, Grant lunged forward towards the rice farmers and pulled the pin on the grenade. The Punk and Treeleaves leapt their way through the air, out of the way of the explosion, missing the impact by just enough to avoid serious burns. The pair turned around, only to see the gruesome sight left behind, which had gone from being the lush, green forest floor, to a now scorched and pitch black covered waste, covered in the scarlet blood and limbs of Grant Stewart and the rice farmers. After performing a quick scan of the area to ensure their safety, Paul found no traces of extra hostiles. Paul and Bradley took the time to create a small grave sight; a cross, fashioned out of bamboo from a nearby tree and engraved with the initials ‘G.S’, and the remnants of Grant’s olive helmet resting on top and a single burnt and torn page of playboy magazine resting on the bottom, as a rememberance. What remained of the platoon mutually agreed that silence might be good for them for the time being and they could talk about the incident in the morning. They decided resting up would be smart, if they were to finish the search for Private Jennings. They hastily set up a small camp, just well enough to keep them safe until dawn. But as morning broke, so did Bradley Smith. Paul awoke to find him knelt, sobbing by the gravesite. “Listen, Treelea-, Bradley. I know it's tough. He was a good man and a hero.” Paul too began to break down into tears, “It's a shame we saw that side of him just too late. But after living in pain and sadness for years, I think we can both take solace in the fact that he died happy and on his own terms. Surrounded by his friends, the only people who he loved.” Bradley sniffled. The poor child was only seventeen and he had already experienced the true horrors of war. “Your right, Paul. Thank you, friend. That means a lot to me” It seemed that Treeleaves had made peace with it, but he was a changed man. “I think it would be best for us to keep moving”, Paul motioned to Treeleaves, “whenever your ready, pal.” Treeleaves picked himself up, and the pair began to head north once again, but not before Paul noticed a small blue notebook lying burnt on the forest floor, next to the destroyed radio that must've been blown from the explosion. As Bradley continued walking, Paul knelt down to pick it up. Not much of the notebook was left, however one legible page presented itself, one that simply read, ‘avoid th- .tell the ot-.’ There was clearly more to it, but with the page being burnt to a crisp, that's all that remained. Judging by the English writing, it must have come from Grant's notebook, and probably the same one he wrote the directions from Thorne in earlier. Keeping that enigmatic information in mind, Paul caught up with Treeleaves down the jungle trail, where the two walked in silence for a couple more hours. The jungle was not as beautiful as it once seemed. The cicadas had begun to rumble once more, and the birds were singing a beautiful tune, but the atmosphere was dry and depressing,with a heavyshower of rainfall setting the mood. As the remnants of Peeler Squad continued onwards, a small settlement poked itself out from between the trees, showcasing what appeared to be their destination. Treeleaves stood, and raised the military hand signal for ‘halt’. He took a knee and began to inspect the area expertly with a spyglass. It was most definitely a Viet Cong hideout, and judging by the information supplied to them, most likely the place of capture, or possible death of Private Jennings. Paul awaited orders from Treeleaves, loosely gripping his dirty machine gun patiently. Treeleaves turned around and began to speak in a stern and commanding voice. “This is a small camp, but I estimate that we have approximately twelve Viet Cong patrolling the area. Whatever they’re guarding, it must be important, I would wager its Private Jennings. We should set up a small lookout base, overlooking the camp on that small ridge to the east. It should shroud us from them, where we will wait until nightfall to commence the rescue, in order to preserve the element of surprise.” Paul was taken aback by Treeleaves’ behaviour. He was no longer some child, playing pranks. He was now a man and a soldier. An emotionless being, just trying to survive another day. Seeing him like this resonated with Paul, as he noticed they walked the same road, just Bradley was walking his at a later point in time. As Paul thought of the road he had to walk in life, it dawned on him just how young he still was. All his time he had been thinking of Bradley as the child, when in reality, Paul was only 5 years older than him. Before he delved further into his own psyche, The Punk snapped himself out of it. He couldn't let his emotions tamper with the mission at hand. Private Jennings' life rested upon his shoulders, and he needed to be on his A-Game if the platoon were to succeed, and survive. As the two continued to survey the camp from the ridge, nightfall crept closer and closer. The jungle never slept, like a living machine, it kept turning its cogs, working endlessly to fit in the wildlife that resided there. The time was creeping. The air was tense. Everything had led up to this moment. As The Punk and Treeleaves readied themselves for their final mission, Paul remembered the blue notebook, but before he could mention his findings, an odd hissing sound began to fill the air. The pair turned around to investigate, but it was far too late. The sound was followed up by a noxious green gas, that surrounded them from all angles and engulfed them within. The next thing The Punk heard was the cackling of six Viet Cong, giggling as they captured the two Americans, followed by the chuffing of what sounded to be a helicopter and gunshots. The darkness soon overtook them, leaving the pair unconscious, lying on the dirty jungle floor. When Paul awoke, he found himself to be alone. Treeleaves was nowhere to be seen. He took a look at his surroundings, finding himself in what appeared to be in a Viet Cong camp of some kind, laying on a surprisingly comfortable bed inside a scrappy wooden building. There was a bed next to him, with a single Viet Cong resting like an angel. Paul wondered why he wasn't tied up, was he too, a prisoner? A hostage? Where was Treeleaves? As Paul stood out of the bed, his head began to spin. The Viet Cong in the bed next to him began to wake up and took notice of his odd behaviour. He began to speak to Paul in an alarmed tone. “Anh bạn ổn chứ !? Điều cuối cùng tôi nhớ là chúng tôi đã được cứu bởi chiếc trực thăng đói!” Paul did not understand the Vietanmese, but with the large chance that the man could possibly raise the alarm, The Punk reached for his swiss army knife and mercilessly took his life with a quick slash to the throat, killing him instantly. The blood spurted over The Punk, splashing his rough, unshaven face in the crimson red. The soldier had an M-60 machine gun by his bedside, most likely stolen from Treeleaves upon their capture. He turned and grabbed the pristine machine gun, and left the room in search for his only friend. Exiting the building, The Punk was greeted by about twenty armed Viet Cong, all staring at him, confused and somewhat alarmed. Without hesitation however, The Punk gripped the machine gun, and began to open fire on the Viet Cong. As he ripped through them, he only had one objective on his mind; to rescue Bradley, wherever he may be held. The Punk watched the Viet Cong fall one by one, the clatter of his machine gun roaring, as the life left each of their bodies. The splash of the blood hitting the dirty forest floor, the lingering smell of gunpowder filling his nostrils, and fueling his bloodlust even further. Like G.I Joe, The Punk expertly weaved and dodged his way around the base, murdering every one of them. He had done it. Each and every one of the twenty soldiers were dead. But Paul began to feel uneasy. Twenty Viet Cong vs one American? Something about this didn't sit right with him. He should really be dead, outgunned to that capacity. Paul began to look around in confusion. What was going on here? He looked to his left and saw an American attack helicopter. How could the Viet Cong have stolen an American chopper? He continued to investigate the area, something was definitely up. Paul knelt down beside one of the slaughtered Viet Cong. He looked around him, but there were no weapons near him. Unarmed Vietcong? He swore they had just shot at him not ten minutes ago. Things were getting stranger. He began to inspect the soldier, who appeared to be wearing dog tags for some odd reason. They read ‘Jennings, Carl F., 411-0340-201, B-POS, Catholic’ Paul examined the Viet Cong wearing the tags once again. As he took a second glance, he was horrified. The soldier wasn't Vietnamese. He was an American soldier. He was black. Tall. Young. That was Carl Jennings. And The Punk had killed him. His head began to spin. Paul felt sick. He began to question if he was human or if he was simply a soldier. He looked around. He came to the horrified realisation. There was no Viet Cong camp. There never was. He looked around. Body after body. Lifeless Soul after soul. American after American, they lay on the jungle floor. Paul vomited, horrified by the atrocity he had just committed. He swore they were Viet Cong. He swore they had spoken Vietnamese just fifteen minutes ago. He swore they had gassed and captured him. It dawned upon Paul what events must have occurred. When Captain Stewart's died, and the radio was destroyed, Commander Thorne must have sent a platoon out to search for them by helicopter. As the platoon located Paul and Bradley, the Viet Cong ambushed them using the mysterious gas, causing the pair to lose consciousness. The platoon arrived by helicopter and rescued the two, wiped out the true Viet Cong and rescued the still alive Private Jennings while doing so. The platoon must have brought Paul, Bradley and Jennings back to a medic base for medical assessment. But the gas must have damaged Paul's brain, causing him to begin to crack between the man and the soldier within. This was mad. Paul couldn’t believe it. He was horrified by his own actions. He was a stone cold killer, and a traitor. It was ridiculous. But then it dawned upon Paul the fate of Bradley Smith. Horror-struck and sickened, Paul Buchanan entered the building he awoke in, which now appeared to be nothing but an unarmed American medic outpost. Paul knelt to the soldier he believed to be Viet Cong and had brutally murdered in bed, only twenty minutes ago. As Paul began to sob, the seventeen year olds cold, lifeless corpse dropped to the side, his ghostly, face staring Paul directly in the eyes. Bradley Smith’s face was stuck in an endless expression of horror, a poor child whose last sight was his only remaining friend in the world, slitting his throat in a fit of pure, psychotic rage. A kid who never earned the respect of his parents, and died just when he had made it into safety. As Paul mourned the loss of his friend, the loud, metallic whirring of helicopter blades sounded from the outside. The grief-stricken and mentally scarred Paul left young Bradleys side, to meet the small fleet of attack helicopters that surrounded him. Commander Thorne began to speak on a radio; “IT'S OVER, BUCHANAN! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED! IN THE NAME OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, YOU'RE UNDER ARREST, TRAITOR. LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS AND COME QUIETLY, YOU MONSTER! WE WILL NOT HESITATE TO KILL YOU ON SIGHT. YOUR REIGN OF TERROR HAS COME TO AN END! Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt a tear within himself, like the soldier inside had now fully separated itself from the human. He then began to chatter apprehensively; “No. No. NO! It wasn't me. It was the gas, it was The Punk. I would NEVER - no I would NEVER do those things. It wasn't me, It was THE PUNK.”

His brow began to twitch furiously,

“It wasn't me, it was The Punk. It wasn't me, it was THE PUNK!. IT WASN'T ME, IT WAS THE PUNK”

The punk gripped his bloody machine gun tight and stood firm, his crimson blue eyes darting savagely, up at the mechanical beast in the skies above, and prepared to take aim.

But it was him.

He was The Punk.

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#June 03 #2021 at 07:22AM

[kenzymirror]

Harvest of Evil

– End of road for robbery gang members terrorising Ondo, Ogun, Oyo, Osun and Kogi residents Chioma Igbokwe

Five suspected criminals recently arrested by the police have one thing in common: they were all former inmates of Olokuta Prisons, Akure, Ondo State. The suspects Olawale Olarewaju, Akinjide Ibitoye, Fisayo Olatubosun, Osai Amechi and Atoyebi Olajide were arrested by detectives attached to the IGP Intelligence Response Team (IRT). According to our police source, they got an intelligence report about a man with one hand that has been attacking and snatching cars across South West states. Most of these cars were later found in Benin Republic. READ ALSO: Offa bank robbery: Police arrest 5 more suspects The commander in charge of IRT, DCP Abba Kyari sent his team with credible intelligence to smoke out the suspected criminals. Luckily, Ibitoye the man with an amputated hand was arrested. He led the police to the arrest of five other gang members. They told the police that while they were in prison, they decided to join the association of car snatchers. As soon as they were released, they started snatching cars and have been stealing cars in Ondo, Ogun, Oyo, Osun and Kogi states for several years. Although the police had arrested and arraigned some of them, they regrouped as soon as they were granted bail. Life after prison At the police station, the first suspect, Olawale, a graduate of Federal Polytechnic, Ado Ekiti claimed that he was introduced to the world of crime while he was in school. “I was initiated into cultism in 2009 while I was in school. I was just a member but I knew everything that was going on whenever they decide to attack people. As soon as I graduated, my mother who knew about my involvement in cult activities tried her best to remove me from that group. She went as far as taking a loan for me since I couldn’t get a job. “With the money that my mother gave me, I relocated to Port Harcourt and started buying and selling plumbing materials. Unfortunately, my shop got burnt and I was left without a job. Sometime in December, 2013, I attended my old students association party and I met one of my old friends known as Olaniyi Olakunle. I told him that I am jobless and he invited me to join his smuggling business. I discovered that he was very successful. He owns a house, a beautiful wife and a fat bank account. The day I visited him, he gave me N50, 000 and he said that was because I drove him to another state. “I went home and decided to think about it. I decided to call him in January 2014. He told me to drive him to Eket and on our way he stopped at Osogbo with the excuse that he wanted to pick someone but suddenly, he pulled out his gun and snatched a car at gunpoint. “I was shocked but when he gave me N120, 000 for just watching him snatch a car, I calmed down. He also gave me the handset of the owner of the car. I started using it, till I was arrested by the police. They asked me who gave me the phone and I took them to Olakunle’s house but he escaped. I was charged to court and remanded in Olokuta Prison. I spent three years before I was released. It was while I was in prison that I met Amechi. He told me that he is a car dealer that I should call him if I have any stolen car.

“In March 2017, I was released from prison and my younger brother who came to pick me advised that I should stop robbery and face internet fraud. He even taught me the job and assured me that if police should arrest me, they will later release me. The internet fraud business was okay and I made at least $270 a week. I was comfortable and my family was well fed. “Unfortunately, in October 2017, one of my friends known as Emmanuel who I met in Olokuta prison Akure, called me and said that he was in Ibadan. It was a big car and I knew that I will make up to one million naira. We sold the car and made a lot of money. This was how I went back to the same trade to the point that I snatched cars and robbed people’s houses. One of my most successful raids was when we stole N8million from the house of one man in Kogi sometime in February 2018.” The second suspect, Ibitoye, a native of Erin Osun claimed that it was in his quest to improve his financial situation that landed him in Benin Republic where he was recruited. Although he lost one of his hands in the course of his evil deeds, Ibitoye said that it became a disguise, which he used to draw public sympathy.

“I used to be a carpenter before my shop was demolished by our local government. Sometime in 2014, I travelled to Benin Republic to do business. Unfortunately the Nigerian man, Obalola who allowed me to work with him buys and sells stolen vehicles. He told me that he has boys in Nigeria whose job is to steal the cars and bring them to him. He linked me up with them. “The first car that we stole was a Range Rover sports and I was given N350, 000 as my share. I was so excited because that was big money. We started moving from state to state especially in the southwest and at the end of each robbery; we will all relocate to Benin Republic and wait. We preferred Toyota cars because they can be sold easily. So many of us were arrested either in the process of snatching the car or much later. I was lucky because I normally relocate to Benin Republic. Our duty was also to raise money and help those in prison to get a lawyer. “Unfortunately in 2016, I was arrested and sent to Olokuta Prison where I spent a year and six months before I was released on bail. As soon as I was released I returned to Benin Republic and decided to steal a motorcycle. I was caught and the people in the area broke my right hand. By the time I got to the hospital, there was nothing they could do than to amputate the hand.” Expected to learn a lesson from that experience, Ibitoye said he was bitter but soon realized that it was an advantage. “I was so broke and hungry. I decided to steal a wallet and when they started searching everyone, they did not search me because they assumed that since I have no hand it will not be possible. Unknown to them, my left hand was more efficient than the right hand. I came back and continued in the car snatching business till the police arrested me and others.”

On the day of his arrest, Ibitoye said that he came to Nigeria to visit his family. “The police did not believe that I am Ibitoye till the other gang members identified me. I also took care of my wife and four children. I know that they are disappointed in me, but they should understand that I did it to make sure that they do not suffer.” Another suspect, Olatubosun, an indigene of Osun State said he decided to become a robber since police sent him to prison because of the crime of his brother. “In 2010, I was living with my elder brother who is a mechanic. I normally stay with him if I have nothing doing. One day policemen came looking for my brother. I was told that he normally receive stolen cars and repaint them. I told them that I knew nothing about it but since they could not find my brother, they arrested me. I was charged to court and remanded in prison. I spent three years in prison and while I was there, I met friends of my brother. They took care of me and also taught me how to be a successful criminal. I learnt how to enter people’s houses without waking them up. I was also told that I should avoid anything that has to do with gun. When I was finally released, I started breaking into houses. The money I made was enough till I met Olawale. He was able to convince me to join him and snatch a car. He started driving the car around and police stopped him. Since he could not prove that he can afford to buy such car he was arrested. I guess he was the one that told the police about me.”

Yet another suspect, Amechi also claimed that he was innocent but the police still charged him to court in 2016. “I am from Delta State and married with a child. I lost my job and was recruited by a drug baron to serve as his personal driver. I thought they were only into drug business but along the line, I realized that they were also buying and selling stolen cars. It was when the police caught me while driving one of his cars that I realized that I was working for a car snatcher . I was charged to court in Ondo State and remanded in Olokuta Prison.

“I spent two years in prison before I was released in 2016. While in prison, I made a lot of contacts. As soon as I came out, I joined a gang and since I knew who the buyers were, it was easy for me to be accepted by the gang. I also started cultivating Indian Hemp in Edo State. I did well for myself and family until I was arrested by the police.” The last suspect Olayide was also arrested and remanded in prison sometime in 2017. “I was arrested in November 2017 because the police in Akure saw me with a stolen vehicle. Luckily for me, my family helped in raising fund which was used to pay the lawyer and I spent only two months in prison. I decided to stop but a friend called and the offer was so good. I started snatching and selling cars till police arrested me. I am sorry, I have disappointed my family.”

  The post Harvest of Evil appeared first on – The Sun News.

The post Harvest of Evil appeared first on kenzymirror.com.

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[andinewton]

Second Chances - Avengers Redemption Series - Part One - Chapter 49

Characters:  Loki, Maia Tomson (OFC), Sigyn, pretty much everyone from the MCU appears at some point, including some special appearances by members of the X-Men!

Pairings: Loki x Maia Tomson, Loki x Sigyn,

Warnings:  Smut, so much smut, violence, swearing; listen, it’s NSFW and 18+, just bear that in mind!

Word Count: 179105

Summary: Loki has been handed over to The Avengers to pay penance for his past crimes, underpowered and underwhelmed by his post he is assigned a new ‘guide to Midgard’ by his superiors and is more than a little surprised when a petite freckled, redhead is waiting in the conference room, not at all like the previous handlers he has been assigned, who quit after a very short time with the snarky god. Maia Tomson is a trained literature teacher and counsellor, maybe not someone you would have picked out to be a guide to the God of Mischief but her mentor, Charles Xavier, knows she likes a challenge, and when The Avengers ask him to recommend someone she is top of his list. Surprised by the assignment, Maia takes it on, promising to do her best, but was not counting on a mutual attraction with her charge.

Join Loki on a journey to discover that his heart is not as frozen as he believes it to be, an adventure spanning almost a millennia of love gained and lost and rediscovered in the most unlikely of places…

Master List

Chapter 49

Summary: Sigyn gets her first chance at a proper battle.

The day before the solstice dawned to a flurry of activity. A small band of mercenaries had invaded Nidavellir and their king, Eitri, had requested aid in ridding them. Odin had charged Thor with taking care of the problem and he in turn had chosen Loki, Sif and The Warriors Three, along with one battalion of warriors. On hearing the news Sigyn made a decision. She wanted to be useful and if she didn’t ask she would never get the opportunity. She raced to Thor’s quarters in her leather pants and tunic and armed, knowing he would be going through the final preparations for the battle. She banged on his door and in moments he answered. He was fastening on his greaves and looked her over before shaking his head. ‘No.’

‘Thor, please.’ She argued as she followed him back into the room. ‘You know I can do this.’ ‘I know if anything happens to you both our fathers will kill me, not to mention what Mother will do.’ ‘Please, give me this chance.’ She continued, walking around to face him. ‘I am a capable sorcerer and swordsman. One more soldier at your side.’ ‘You are not a soldier, you are a lady of this court, my mother’s favourite, and you have never entered a true battle before.’ ‘But how am I to gain the experience if you never give me the opportunity?’   He reached out and Mjolnir came to his hand. ‘I would rather you had neither one. We will be home before you even realise, little fighter.’ ‘This is ridiculous!’ She stated. ‘At least against mercenaries it will not be as an army! Give me a chance to dip my toes, Thor, and I promise, if I fail, or fall, or struggle in anyway I will never again ask to go with you, but the opportunity, just one, is all I ask.’ He sighed and looked at the determination on her face. ‘You take my orders, unquestioningly.’ He said eventually and she fought not to smile. ‘The first sign of trouble that you cannot handle you run. Understood?’ ‘Perfectly. Thank you.’ She touched his arm. ‘Don’t thank me yet, you still have to convince Loki of the idea.’ Loki looked at Sigyn in alarm when she approached the bifrost beside Thor. ‘Please do not tell me this fool has recruited you?’ He said in dismay. ‘Voluntary. You knew this day was coming.’ She gave him a knowing look. ‘I hoped no one would be stupid enough to give you the opportunity.’ He fell into step beside her as Fandral swept in a bow to her as he always did. ‘Ah, good Lady Sigyn. You are finally going to join our merry band!’ ‘It would seem so.’ She bowed her head to him. ‘About time the girl got a shot.’ Volstagg commented as they reached the observatory. ‘I think she will be splendid.’ Sif smiled warmly. ‘I think,’ Heimdall said as they approached him, ‘if her father knew she would not be here.’ ‘I am commanding this troop, and I have chosen my warriors.’ Thor stated. ‘Open the bifrost so we may begin our task.’ ‘I did not say I disagree with your decision, young prince, but disclosure is not always best left until after the fact.’ Heimdall explained as he inserted his sword and the observatory began to move. ‘Thank you for your support, Heimdall.’ Sigyn lowered her head to him respectfully. ‘Make us proud, Lady Sigyn. Make yourself a name for more than embroidery.’ His voice held the knowledge that he knew just how bad her embroidery was and she laughed. ‘I cannot very well do worse.’ Without another word they stepped through the portal to Nidavellir. They appeared on the outskirts of a village, the sounds from which told a story of marauders causing havoc, and Thor led the charge to aid the good people. ‘Stay by me, Sig.’ Loki called to her as they approached and she gave a small nod of acknowledgement before the first mercenaries rushed at them.   Sigyn felt a swift rush of adrenaline at the sudden engagement in a true battle, and her realisation of how much she had been pulling her strokes during practice was a hard but quickly learnt one. There was no place for gentleness or fear on the battlefield and the brutal attacks by the mercenaries soon had her worrying less about harm and more about survival. To Loki’s amazement she held the conviction of her training in the field too. She was efficient and practical, dispatching foes equally with sword and magic, and what few blows they caught her with barely threw her off her stroke. After some time they were separated but neither had the chance to worry. There were more bandits than they had been led to believe and this was more of a baptism of fire than they had hoped for her. After dispatching two foes and wiping a line of blood from her temple, Sigyn looked around for the next attack, but instead found Thor, fighting with three men, as a fourth began to step up behind him, axe raised. She didn’t even think, just acted, as she sprinted towards the prince, throwing barbs of power into the back of the mercenary’s armour enough to make him turn, and as he did so she pushed off a nearby overturned crate with one foot, giving herself a height advantage as she brought her sword down and through the man’s chest before he could re-aim his blow to her. He fell with her above him, her momentum forcing him down as the life left him, but also forcing the blade to sheer from the pommel, leaving her weaponless. She rolled over her shoulder as she hit the ground, bringing her leg up and kicking out the kneecap of another of Thor’s assailants as he brought Mjolnir up on another, knocking him down before the third thought better of his life choices and turned to run, only to be struck down by Hogun as he passed. Thor swung and finished off the one who was screaming about his knee as Sigyn got to her feet, putting her back to Thor’s automatically to check what remained. Other than chaos and some minor destruction, all the bandits were gone; dispatched or fled, and the troops began to round up what they could. ‘That was foolish, little fighter.’ Thor frowned down at her as she threw the useless pommel to the ground. ‘Which part?’ She looked at him in confusion as others from their band approached. ‘Indeed, Thor, which part?’ Volstagg asked jovially. ‘The part where she saved your life or the part where she survived her first battle?’ ‘Entering into an established skirmish. I could have hurt you.’ She shrugged. ‘I stayed low enough to barely be in your eye line. And you were a little taken by the others you fought. I apologise if I, stole your thunder, shall we say?’ Thor tried to stay mad with her, it was obvious it was just out of worry, especially given how she bled from a cut on her hairline, but a smile broke over his face. ‘Very well done.’ He clapped her on the shoulder as Loki approached from the far side, relieved to see everyone, particularly Sigyn, standing and apparently well. ‘Thank you.’ ‘Loki,’ Thor called over her head, ‘take Lady Sigyn and patch her up. We will clear up here.’ ‘Patch her up?’ He frowned and as she turned he saw the blood streaked down her face where she had wiped at it. ‘Holy Valhalla, Sig. Can you not stay out of trouble?’ He teased as he took her arm and led her away. ‘I learnt it from a certain mischief maker so I am quite certain the answer is no.’ She smiled at him as he straightened the crate she had just leapt from and seated her on it, crouching before her. He shook his head, rubbing his thumb over her wound with an edge of power, sealing it, before taking a piece of cloth from his pocket and cleaning her up. ‘Has this experience at least given you a purpose?’ ‘I feel more useful than I do with a needle in my hand.’ She closed her eye nearest where he was wiping as the cloth kept touching her lashes. ‘You never were one for feminine pursuits.’ He smiled. ‘Remember when Mother tried to teach you to ride sidesaddle?’ She laughed. ‘I remember. I’m sure I still feel the bruise whenever I am in the saddle.’ He looked at her curiously as he lowered the cloth, and she blinked her eye open again. ‘Did they try and teach you while you were gone?’ ‘I learnt to bluff that skill too.’ She said proudly. ‘Is there anything you cannot bluff?’ She leant into him. ‘I am still a terrible dancer.’ ‘Really?’ He asked in amusement. ‘No, that too was a bluff.’ ‘I would still like proof of that.’ ‘Perhaps some time.’ She looked up although she couldn’t see her wound. ‘Am I done?’ ‘Nothing a good wash would not take care of.’ He started to get up but moved forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead on impulse. ‘You should be proud, Sig. You fought well.’ And he straightened fully, tucking the cloth in his pocket as he walked away, leaving her with a tingling sensation where his lips had touched her skin. ‘Are you going to tell me the fool still did not ask you to the solstice feast as his guest?’ Sif came up from the side, speaking quietly as she bent and wiped her blade on the grass before sheathing it. ‘I will be there anyway, Sif. It really does not matter.’ ‘The rose to your cheek says it does. It says that you care what he thinks and does, where you are concerned.’ ‘You know that to be true, so why mention it again?’ Sigyn got to her feet, frustrated by Sif’s comments. ‘Because you and he dance around the fact like it is a ball. Everyone can see it, at least those of us close to you.’ She leant on the smaller woman’s shoulder with her elbow. ‘Just think of the beautiful children you would have. His green eyes, your red hair. Stunning.’ ‘Stop!’ Sigyn begged as her cheeks flamed again. ‘Surely we must have something better to do than discuss…this?’ ‘Indeed we have. Thor has asked you and I return to Asgard and report to the Allfather that all is well.’ ‘Is this some ruse to get me off the battlefield?’ ‘The princes are both impressed with your skill, as you knew before you came here.’ She started them walking towards the edge of the bifrost site where they would call for Heimdall. ‘And I believe by sending the two women from the field it will make the point that you are as capable as I and that they cannot stop you being a warrior in your own right.’ ‘I suppose that would make sense.’ Sigyn agreed with a sigh. ‘And, it will give us a chance to discuss just how we are going to tempt our reluctant prince to do something about his feeling for you.’ Sigyn shook her head. Sif was relentless sometimes. A month later Loki had presented Sigyn with a new sword, crafted especially for her by the finest smith in the kingdom to replace the one she had broken. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that the hilt held a bright green stone.

Chapter 50

#loki #loki fanfiction #Loki/Sigyn #Loki/OFC #loki x ofc #loki x sigyn #Avengers #Avengers Redemption #reincarnation

[kenzymirror]

Harvest of Evil

– End of road for robbery gang members terrorising Ondo, Ogun, Oyo, Osun and Kogi residents Chioma Igbokwe

Five suspected criminals recently arrested by the police have one thing in common: they were all former inmates of Olokuta Prisons, Akure, Ondo State. The suspects Olawale Olarewaju, Akinjide Ibitoye, Fisayo Olatubosun, Osai Amechi and Atoyebi Olajide were arrested by detectives attached to the IGP Intelligence Response Team (IRT). According to our police source, they got an intelligence report about a man with one hand that has been attacking and snatching cars across South West states. Most of these cars were later found in Benin Republic. READ ALSO: Offa bank robbery: Police arrest 5 more suspects The commander in charge of IRT, DCP Abba Kyari sent his team with credible intelligence to smoke out the suspected criminals. Luckily, Ibitoye the man with an amputated hand was arrested. He led the police to the arrest of five other gang members. They told the police that while they were in prison, they decided to join the association of car snatchers. As soon as they were released, they started snatching cars and have been stealing cars in Ondo, Ogun, Oyo, Osun and Kogi states for several years. Although the police had arrested and arraigned some of them, they regrouped as soon as they were granted bail. Life after prison At the police station, the first suspect, Olawale, a graduate of Federal Polytechnic, Ado Ekiti claimed that he was introduced to the world of crime while he was in school. “I was initiated into cultism in 2009 while I was in school. I was just a member but I knew everything that was going on whenever they decide to attack people. As soon as I graduated, my mother who knew about my involvement in cult activities tried her best to remove me from that group. She went as far as taking a loan for me since I couldn’t get a job. “With the money that my mother gave me, I relocated to Port Harcourt and started buying and selling plumbing materials. Unfortunately, my shop got burnt and I was left without a job. Sometime in December, 2013, I attended my old students association party and I met one of my old friends known as Olaniyi Olakunle. I told him that I am jobless and he invited me to join his smuggling business. I discovered that he was very successful. He owns a house, a beautiful wife and a fat bank account. The day I visited him, he gave me N50, 000 and he said that was because I drove him to another state. “I went home and decided to think about it. I decided to call him in January 2014. He told me to drive him to Eket and on our way he stopped at Osogbo with the excuse that he wanted to pick someone but suddenly, he pulled out his gun and snatched a car at gunpoint. “I was shocked but when he gave me N120, 000 for just watching him snatch a car, I calmed down. He also gave me the handset of the owner of the car. I started using it, till I was arrested by the police. They asked me who gave me the phone and I took them to Olakunle’s house but he escaped. I was charged to court and remanded in Olokuta Prison. I spent three years before I was released. It was while I was in prison that I met Amechi. He told me that he is a car dealer that I should call him if I have any stolen car.

“In March 2017, I was released from prison and my younger brother who came to pick me advised that I should stop robbery and face internet fraud. He even taught me the job and assured me that if police should arrest me, they will later release me. The internet fraud business was okay and I made at least $270 a week. I was comfortable and my family was well fed. “Unfortunately, in October 2017, one of my friends known as Emmanuel who I met in Olokuta prison Akure, called me and said that he was in Ibadan. It was a big car and I knew that I will make up to one million naira. We sold the car and made a lot of money. This was how I went back to the same trade to the point that I snatched cars and robbed people’s houses. One of my most successful raids was when we stole N8million from the house of one man in Kogi sometime in February 2018.” The second suspect, Ibitoye, a native of Erin Osun claimed that it was in his quest to improve his financial situation that landed him in Benin Republic where he was recruited. Although he lost one of his hands in the course of his evil deeds, Ibitoye said that it became a disguise, which he used to draw public sympathy.

“I used to be a carpenter before my shop was demolished by our local government. Sometime in 2014, I travelled to Benin Republic to do business. Unfortunately the Nigerian man, Obalola who allowed me to work with him buys and sells stolen vehicles. He told me that he has boys in Nigeria whose job is to steal the cars and bring them to him. He linked me up with them. “The first car that we stole was a Range Rover sports and I was given N350, 000 as my share. I was so excited because that was big money. We started moving from state to state especially in the southwest and at the end of each robbery; we will all relocate to Benin Republic and wait. We preferred Toyota cars because they can be sold easily. So many of us were arrested either in the process of snatching the car or much later. I was lucky because I normally relocate to Benin Republic. Our duty was also to raise money and help those in prison to get a lawyer. “Unfortunately in 2016, I was arrested and sent to Olokuta Prison where I spent a year and six months before I was released on bail. As soon as I was released I returned to Benin Republic and decided to steal a motorcycle. I was caught and the people in the area broke my right hand. By the time I got to the hospital, there was nothing they could do than to amputate the hand.” Expected to learn a lesson from that experience, Ibitoye said he was bitter but soon realized that it was an advantage. “I was so broke and hungry. I decided to steal a wallet and when they started searching everyone, they did not search me because they assumed that since I have no hand it will not be possible. Unknown to them, my left hand was more efficient than the right hand. I came back and continued in the car snatching business till the police arrested me and others.”

On the day of his arrest, Ibitoye said that he came to Nigeria to visit his family. “The police did not believe that I am Ibitoye till the other gang members identified me. I also took care of my wife and four children. I know that they are disappointed in me, but they should understand that I did it to make sure that they do not suffer.” Another suspect, Olatubosun, an indigene of Osun State said he decided to become a robber since police sent him to prison because of the crime of his brother. “In 2010, I was living with my elder brother who is a mechanic. I normally stay with him if I have nothing doing. One day policemen came looking for my brother. I was told that he normally receive stolen cars and repaint them. I told them that I knew nothing about it but since they could not find my brother, they arrested me. I was charged to court and remanded in prison. I spent three years in prison and while I was there, I met friends of my brother. They took care of me and also taught me how to be a successful criminal. I learnt how to enter people’s houses without waking them up. I was also told that I should avoid anything that has to do with gun. When I was finally released, I started breaking into houses. The money I made was enough till I met Olawale. He was able to convince me to join him and snatch a car. He started driving the car around and police stopped him. Since he could not prove that he can afford to buy such car he was arrested. I guess he was the one that told the police about me.”

Yet another suspect, Amechi also claimed that he was innocent but the police still charged him to court in 2016. “I am from Delta State and married with a child. I lost my job and was recruited by a drug baron to serve as his personal driver. I thought they were only into drug business but along the line, I realized that they were also buying and selling stolen cars. It was when the police caught me while driving one of his cars that I realized that I was working for a car snatcher . I was charged to court in Ondo State and remanded in Olokuta Prison.

“I spent two years in prison before I was released in 2016. While in prison, I made a lot of contacts. As soon as I came out, I joined a gang and since I knew who the buyers were, it was easy for me to be accepted by the gang. I also started cultivating Indian Hemp in Edo State. I did well for myself and family until I was arrested by the police.” The last suspect Olayide was also arrested and remanded in prison sometime in 2017. “I was arrested in November 2017 because the police in Akure saw me with a stolen vehicle. Luckily for me, my family helped in raising fund which was used to pay the lawyer and I spent only two months in prison. I decided to stop but a friend called and the offer was so good. I started snatching and selling cars till police arrested me. I am sorry, I have disappointed my family.”

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