#hybrids and similar count as human for internal monologue and legal purposes so long as they are naturally occurring and native to earth

[factorialsotherfandoms]

XCOM AU, set a bit before the whumptober exhaustion prompt (and maybe gets a chapter 2 covering either Mike's PoV post-rescue, or Pac's PoV of the rescue, but... well, I'll leave it 1/2 on ao3 until I have time to write it. It might be this evening, it might be in months, who knows). By this point the first of the eggs have been recovered, but Mike /does not know about them/. Because he was caught before then. As such, his info on what some things are is incorrect.

How the soul-bond works is not something I've explained and not something Pac and Mike quite understand, but tldr the further apart physically they are the harder it is to do anything with it, and more faint the 'passive' bond is. As in, what they just feel and get without putting effort in. Also the further they are apart the quicker doing shit like 'shielding each other from psychic powers' will tire them out. Pac absolutely ends up unconscious not long after Mike the first time around.

TW: torture, magical mind manipulation, serious head injuries

Pac is faint in Mike's brain, and for once it is a blessing. He hangs onto that fact, onto the fact he can tell his soulmate is safe - safe and not nearby - and bares his teeth at his enemy. It's been weeks now, if not months, pinned to the wall, tortured and starved and unable to move. The muscles in his arms are past strained, hands long number and still up there.

His glasses are shattered on the floor and, for some reason, it makes him even angrier than the rest.

One Cucurucho sits in the corner, a desk dragged into the cell in a mockery of professionalism. It has a tablet and stylus at the ready to take notes.

Mike refuses to give it anything of use.

And then the aliens. Two Sectoids are held on leashes by a Federation Guard, ready to be unleashed at any moment.

And then the Hunter, the Federation's pet sniper, something once human, twisted and corrupted and changed. Faster, sharper, with eyes that see further and hands too steady and psionics the likes of which not even the Order have seen before.

The Hunter, the Assassin, the Warlock, the Federation's three perfect soldiers. Human DNA spliced with alien, then turned out to destroy the world.

He holds a pistol under Mike's chin, pressing up and into the soft flesh just there. Still Mike hisses and snarls and refuses to give in. His body is littered with scars and injuries from the torture, his nails broken or gone, his teeth bloody, his skin torn.

Still he does not give in.

"You will tell me," the Hunter demands. "Where are the eggs. We know your people stole them, boy..."

"I don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about," Mike snarls back, trying to push forward and only catching himself on the gun.

There's some few surviving chickens who live on Kristin's farm - Philza's mentioned them before, and sometimes they get a delivery for the canteen - but he slipped last week and mentioned that. Whatever eggs the Federation want, it's not them.

"Of course you do," the Hunter continues. "How could you not? Hasn't your little friend let something slip to you? We all know about him. We all know you two do the..." his tongue flicks across his lick, and for a horrifying moment Mike remembers the Cell of years ago "/research/."

How dare he, how fucking dare he bring Pac into this. Of course they know about him - about them - but how /dare/ he.

"Haven't done research in years," Mike just about manages to gather some spit, aiming it at the Hunter's eye. He misses, but does hit his deathly-blue tongue. "Neither's he. Tubbo and Aypierre took over R&D years ago. You know this. You tortured him, too."

Cucurucho's blank eyes are watching them now, the tablet placed down and hands folded atop the desk.

"Are you sure about that?" the Hunter's fingers move over the trigger.

"We're not so stupid as to let field agents know the details of R&D," Mike lies through his teeth. Like you could ever keep him and Pac from the labs. "Moron."

"Then I guess we have no use for you."

The Hunter's finger twitches. Mike fucking dares him to try.

He definitely went to pull the trigger, but then freezes.

"Wait."

The robotoic, familiar voice of Cucurucho says. The creature - fuck knows if its an alien, a robot, or some lab-grown abomination - slowly stands.

Slowly walks over.

Keeps its hands clasped before it.

"I will take over this investigation," Cucurucho says, completely bland.

The Hunter lowers the gun.

The Federation worker and both sectoids drop dead.

Cucurucho's eyes glow purple, and it reaches one set of claws to Mike's cheek.

He throws every secret he can from his mind, throws it all back at Pac, along their strained and distant bond. He hides the core of himself there, too, everything he should be or could be or wants, hiding in the security of his soulmate as a creature of the Federation tries to break into his skull.

Even so distant, even so far apart, Pac manages to throw a shield around them.

Keep the information safe.

Keep everything that Mike /is/ safe.

Keep Mike from dying once again.

He can feel Pac's questions now, now he's forced himself into their bond, and their terror merges into one. Mike's still linked to himself, can still feel his brain bleed information as Cucurucho rips through it, reading not just his mind but his very soul. Steals everything there - or rather copies it - from schematics of old weapons to the identities of the prominent Order members to Mike's memories from before the war.

Claws scrape along Pac's shield. The essence of Pac's being holds the essence of Mike's being closer, entwining them and the truly /dangerous/ information together for as long as he can, keeps the shield up as long as he can.

It's agony, agony, agony, to feel something tear through Mike's very soul. But he's also closer to Pac than he has been in - in months, he reads from Pac, closer than he's been in months - and he drinks the comfort he can from his soulmate.

Even like this, even expending so much energy to twine over continents, Mike still cannot feel Pac's words.

Mike tires the faster, torture and mind fuckery taking their toll, but even Pac is flagging before Cucurucho pulls away.

Mike is aware of all of himself at once, of course, starts instinctively placing memories back in their proper place while Pac tries to cling to him longer.

"Useless," Cucurucho deems him.

Relief he didn't let anything slip floods Mike, even as Pac grows in terror. The grip they have on each other is slipping, slipping, slipping..

Cucurucho returns to its desk.

The Hunter raises the pistol.

Mike readies himself to die, and Pac refuses to let him go.

It's not a gunshot that comes; the pistol slams into the side of Mike's head.

The force is too much; Mike's head cracks to the side, and he feels something break.

Everything goes black.

When the world comes back, there are hands on him - he doesn't get it, doesn't understand, but Pac is still distant - reaches to cling to him as soon as the black fades - so Mike doesn't care. He doesn't have the energy to reach along the bond for Pac, but he knows how to fight and fight and keeps on fighting.

His skin is torn and he tears skin in turn and he doesn't know what is happening, but the hands are not human hands and the claws are distinctly monstrous claws so he fights and he fights and he keeps on fighting.

He sees but does not understand, touches but does not feel, listens but cannot hear, so he keeps on fighting.

A rifle butt cracks across the back of his skull.

This time he can hear Pac's scream as light turns black once more.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp mike #qsmp pac #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp au #qsmp x xcom #hybrids and similar count as human for internal monologue and legal purposes so long as they are naturally occurring and native to earth #the hunter assassin and warlock are actually proto-eggs #proofs of concept before they started making eggs for purposes of possession #they became too individual to overwrite and so are now the federation's genetically engineered supersoldiers #its not actually seconds between the two cracks to the head its days #mike is... really not in a good way by the time people find him