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songbirdsingingthings · 3 years

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Heartbeats - Levi Ackerman x Reader

WARNINGS: Season 4 Spoilers, Mentions of Blood, Stitching up Major Injuries, Somewhat Angst, Ending In Fluff, FLOCH SLANDER

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I REPEAT - SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!! Okay, so basically in this, you replace Hange in the little ride that she, Floch, and the rest of his little group takes out into the wilderness when they end up finding the remnants of the cart explosion. This also means you find out what happens to Levi (poor bby). I hope you enjoy, I had a lovely time writing this!

To put it simply, you were pissed off. If anyone could do a deep dive into your brain, navigate your nervous systems, and land themselves straight into your amygdala, they would find out just how livid you are. Being betrayed by your comrades was one thing. You’ve seen corruption in the military before whether it be in the Military Police or in the Garrison, so you knew it was only a matter of time that a seed of deceit sprouted within the Scout Regiment. However, you didn’t think that there would be so many to purposely go against their oath and betray the core values and people who helped the Scouts become who they were. But the real kicker was that you and Hange, two of the highest ranking people in the regiment, were being led out by gunpoint by Floch. As one of the last remaining captains of the Scouts, you were almost humiliated at the thought of cadets technically holding your life in their hands as the group of you rode on horseback.

“Move along Y/N, we don’t have all day.” Floch said. You didn’t have to turn your head to see the power hungry grin donning the red head’s face. Instead, you scoffed and moved one of your hands up to tug the hood of your cape lower over your face. The rain was pelting your back relentlessly and you shuddered a little at the chill that ran down your back. Of course the rain had to come to make this experience even more miserable than it already was. You wished that Hange was by your side on this little outing, but of course, the little group headed by Floch would only take one of you out at a time. Pay no mind, just try to get through this, you tell yourself, gritting your teeth. You turn your focus onto happier thoughts to try and propel yourself through this little “mission”. Your mind flitted to random, somewhat material things; a freshly washed and dried long sleeve shirt, a cup of soothing tea, and using your ODM gear just for fun. But, like all thoughts of yours tend to do, they all turned onto the man that had been stationed out in the woods for weeks. Levi Ackerman. Four, maybe five years ago, you never would have thought that the gray-eyed man could become anything closer to you than a colleague, much less a boyfriend. But, things just fell weirdly into place, setting up your relationship. Oh, what he would say when he finds out what has been happening back at HQ, you muse, your mouth twitching into a small smile. However, your somewhat appeased expression morphed into one of confusion when a sudden cracking noise reverberated through the air and landed on the ears of you and the group of traitorous scouts.

“Uh… Floch?” You hear one of the scouts say, their voice laced with concern.

“What the hell was that?” Floch asks.

“Thunder maybe?” Another scout chimes in, not sounding confident in their answer. Your eyebrows knit in perplexity as your eyes narrow in the direction the sound came in. Then, it all comes together. A Thunder Spear. You conclude. A lump in your throat forms. But why? The only people out in the woods would be… Levi.

“Let’s head in that direction.” The redhead concludes. The group wordlessly kicks their horses into a canter as everyone heads toward a more northern direction. It’s only when you get closer to the forest’s tree line that you see where that sound came from. In the short distance, a somewhat mangled titan was laying down on its stomach, but closer to you was the wreckage of a wooden cart. Planks of wood were sticking out haphazardly, and to your sorrow, so were two horses. You heard the murmurs of confusion from Floch’s group, but your focus remained on one of the horses. Why was your attention captured by such a sad sight? This poor, jet black horse was on its side. It almost reminded you of Levi’s… no, it looks exactly like his horse. Hurriedly, but not so fast as to draw attention to yourself, your eyes and head dart around the surroundings of the wreckage. Over the drenched plains and tall grass, nothing was out of the norm. Until your eyes landed a green Scout Regiment cloak with its hood up, definitely covering a person’s body that you recognized immediately. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Without hesitation, you hopped off your horse - your feet almost getting tangled in the stirrups of the saddle - and sprinted towards the cloak-wrapped body.

“CAPTAIN Y/N, DO NOT RUN OFF!” Floch shouts over the downpour of rain. Paying no mind to the mud that caked your boots and the stinging of the tall grass as it cut and pricked your face. You reach him and flip him over immediately. As soon as you see his face, you audibly gasp. A long, slightly deep cut stretched from just on top of his right brow, over his right eye, over his mouth, and then finally stopped at his chin. Substantially sized wood chips were buried into his left cheek. What made your hands shake, though, was the fact that all over his pale face and stuck in his silky black hair was his blood. You jostle him once, then twice, and then finally a third time to yield no movement from him.

“ARE YOU ALIVE?” You shout into his ear, your voice trying to reach his eardrums. “ANSWER ME, PLEASE!” You feel your heart breaking as his lips don’t move and his eyes don’t flutter with movement. Never did you think that your time with him would run out. Humanity's strongest soldier, the captain of the special ops squad, and the love of your life taken out of the world just like that? No. He was too stubborn, too hellbent on avenging Erwin and making sure that you don’t get yourself into ‘dumb predicaments’ as he likes to say. You hug his limp body close to you and press your ear to his chest. You knew that Floch and his cronies would be surrounding you soon, but you just wanted one last moment with you and him alone. Your eyes closed as you nestled yourself into him in a last ditch effort in order to find some final comfort from him. All you could hear was the rain and the faint squelching of the “Scouts’” boots coming towards you. But then, as light as a feather, a heartbeat. Your eyes shoot open as you press your ear against his chest closer to his chest, trying to make sure what you heard wasn’t a hallucination. Another heartbeat, although faint, was there. You didn’t have time to react when you heard a voice from behind you.

“I don’t know what happened, but we got lucky. Our biggest threat, now covered in his own blood.” Floch’s words pierced your heart. How he could be so insensitive, so disrespectful of a human life.

“I’ll send a shot through his head.” Another one said.

“He’s dead.” You quickly say, earning silence from the rest of the group. If he’s going to stay alive, I have to act fast. I have to make up stuff on the fly. You say to yourself. “He must have been hit by a Thunder Spear explosion at close range,” you say, incorporating the cracking noise that everyone heard. “I saw something similar in a training accident when Hange was in the developing stage with prototypes. He might not look dead, but his vital organs are in shreds. He died immediately from the internal bleeding.” You say, trying your best to convince them that Levi was, in fact, ready to be buried six feet under. You look up to Floch, forcing tears to spring from your eyes in order to fully sell the effect.

“Well, I know how to take a pulse. Lemme see him and I’ll check to make sure that he is, as you say, dead.” Floch said, nonchalantly. Shit. But, like some higher power was looking down on you, the titan near the treeline produced a strange smoky-like substance, gaining the attention from the group.

“What’s going on?”

“I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“What do we do?” Comments from everyone in the group were voiced, everyone’s eyes - including yours - trained on the origin of the smoke. And there, like he emerged from a phoenix’s ashes, was Zeke. Your eyes widen, and then narrow. They’re obsessed with Zeke and Eren. This is my chance. Gripping Levi as tightly as you can and putting all of your energy into this exact moment, you launched you and Levi into the river that ran right next to you. You could hear the warped voices of the traitorous scouts as you plunged into the freezing water, but you couldn’t and wouldn’t turn your head. They had the guns, they had the manpower, and they had the higher ground. The only way you and Levi would survive this is if you swam down the river. So, you swam, and swam, and swam.

You gasp and cough up water as you resurface, immediately putting your efforts into getting Levi out of the river water. You manage to push his body and roll it a foot away from the riverbank before you get swept under the water again. FIGHT, DAMMIT! You scream to yourself, clawing your way out and onto the land next to Levi. With another cough and hack, you grab hold of your unconscious boyfriend and somewhat drag, somewhat carrying him into the woods to find what little shelter you could get. You whip your head around quickly to survey your surroundings, finding solace in the fact that it’s just the two of you.

“O-okay,” you waver, your mind strained and your body exhausted, “there’s no one here or after us right now. We’re safe for right now.” You say, hopeful that Levi could hear you. You quickly make a camp out of the supplies that you had on your back as well as the things you could find in nature. Thankfully, every scout - captain or cadet - was required to carry a full tent and sleeping pack, so as quickly as you could, you set those both up. From when you were hammering in the little pegs of the tent and unfolding and rolling out the sleeping pack, you kept a watchful eye on Levi. Finally, everything was set up and a small campfire was roaring. Now, you could officially tend to him. You peel back the cloak from his body and set in near the fire to dry it off. Pulling Levi gently over and onto the sleeping pack, you brush back his hair from his face so that you could fully assess his injuries.

“Oh Levi…” You murmur, taking in that big scar again. There was no doubt that he had gone blind in his right eye. All you could hope was that there is no infection. So, quickly, you take out your first aid kit and get to work. First, you start to remove the wood chips from his face with tweezers. “You know, you would be furious if you saw how Floch treated Hange and the rest of the leading officials within the Regiment. Probably would’ve ended him right then and there.” You blab, trying to distract yourself and talk to Levi at the same time. Pulling wood out of your boyfriend’s face was not something you loved doing. Thankfully, there weren’t that many chips and they didn’t splinter, so that work was quick. Now came the monstrous task of stitching up those gashes stretching across his face. The one on his cheek didn’t worry you, but the one stretching across his eye and mouth most definitely did. So, to try and fuel your confidence, you start with the smaller and less dependent one. After a couple of shaky tries, you finally thread the needle and tie a knot at the end of it to prevent the stitch from coming undone.

“Okay, you can do this Y/N. It’s just like when your mom used to stitch up your clothes, right? Just nice and slow…” you say to yourself, bringing the needle to his mangled skin. “Levi, I can’t believe you’re making me do this you asshole!” You whine, a few tears falling from your eyes as you finally stick the needle through his skin and stitching it together. You got into a steady rhythm, messing up a bit here and there, but eventually getting the job done. You grab the little thread scissors and snip off the end of the thread, tying the little thread at the end of the gash tightly, but not as taut as to rip the stitching.

“Now onto the big one.” You breathe, prepping yourself. With a deep breath and a scrunch of your eyes, you begin at his chin and start making your way up. It was a short distance to stitch to his bottom lip, but you hated to sew that part up. Those lips were always so soft against your skin. From pressing butterfly kisses to your shoulders when you would wake up in bed, quick ones to your forehead before leaving for a mission, and passionate ones to your lips when you would finally get back, those lips comforted you and helped you through the tough reality of living. Now, you had to leave a permanent reminder on his lips that he wasn’t as invincible as he might’ve once thought. You tie that part off before starting at his top lip, making your way up to his eye. This was the part you were dreading. Those silver irises drew your attention in whichever situation you were in. Whether it be a meeting of the minds or just a quick glance his way, you would get absolutely lost in those gray pools. Now, he would have only one and his vision would be used through a single eye.

“Come on L/N, you’ve got this.” You whisper while starting to stitch his eye. It was a rough, uncomfortable experience, but finally you made it over his eye and to his forehead. And, with one last tie and a snip from the scissors, you were done. The last thing you had to do was wrap his right hand. You discovered, when dragging him through the river, just how far his injuries extended. Two of his fingers, his middle and index, were cut clean off. It pained you to know that he would have to relearn how to use ODM gear again. The tool he was a master and artist at using, making himself look graceful and deadly at the same time, he would have to relearn. You just covered his hand and wounds quickly, and let your mind veer from that. You cleaned his face again, swiping a clean strip of your shirt, a piece you ripped off, and went carefully over his stitches and took extra care in the more tender areas. Then, you threw it to the side and plopped down at his side, staring at the grass in front of you.

“What the hell do we do now…” You say, your voice dry and void of life, your eyes sullen. “We can’t stop Zeke between you, me, and the rest of the scouts we have on our side. Eren’s on this weird and insane rampage, ostracising Mikasa and Armin from himself, as well as the rest of us. The Yeagerists are becoming this crazed cult by seizing control over everything… I just do not know what to do.” You confess, laying all of your feelings out for him to, hopefully, hear. Glancing back at Levi, you see he’s still motionless. However, you see the shallow rise and fall of his chest, and that comforts you for now.

Levi is still unconscious when you begin formulating ideas on how to get him back or get help in general. Armin, Mikasa, and the rest of the 104th cadets were being kept somewhere, you knew that much. You had no way of knowing where they were keeping Hange or how she was doing, and the other top ranking officials of each of the different regiments were either colluding with the Yeagerists or being beaten to a pulp by them. Even Hitch, a member of the Garrison that everyone had taken a large liking to, was probably still guarding Annie who was stuck in her crystal for four five years and counting. Your thoughts were put to a hold, though, when a beam of light and a booming sound erupted from the walls. You spun around to face the light, absolutely dumbstruck at the sight. You had seen something like this before, for example whenever Armin or Eren changed into their respective titans, but this was something different.

“Oh my-” You begin to say, but then a strangled sounding groan was voiced. Levi. Whipping your head to face him, you find the black-haired man sitting up slowly and grumbling.

“The Beast… That piece of shit… where is he…?” You quickly make your way over to him, pressing a gentle hand to his stomach.

“Hey, easy, lay back down.” You order softly. To your surprise, he complies. “Zeke went back to Shiganshina with the Yeagerists.” You explain, trying to answer Levi’s question. You see the absolutely defeated look in his eye, but was not able to see his frown through the wrappings you had placed around his head to dress his wounds. “Levi,” you ask softly, bringing your hand to lightly hold his left hand, “what happened?” His gaze left yours to look beyond yourself, maybe towards the sky.

“I screwed up. I didn’t take into question whether Zeke was ready to die or not. I guess he was since he triggered that thunderspear I had aimed towards his neck. I let him get away. Again.” His eyes went back onto yours.

“I… I know you’re upset and you want your revenge, I really do. But, for right now, I think that we-”

“If we keep running and hiding, where the hell will that get us.” Levi interrupts. You press your mouth into a tight line and look away from him.

“I know, I agree.” You say, sighing. “We’ll get back there, back into the action. We’ll make things right.”

“My goal is to kill Zeke.” He says. You know that killing Zeke has been on his mind ever since Erwin, and you know it will never leave it. However, you can’t stop the worry that rises within you when you think about how that may be Levi’s only goal. How after he completes it, he won’t make new goals or find new dreams to carry out within life. Your body goes a bit rigid and now you turn away from him completely. However, if you could see Levi’s face, you would know that he realizes how his wording found a way to hurt you, and he hated that. He hated the thought that you had to risk your neck for his, take care and stitch him up, and now put up with him. “Y/N-”

“No, I understand.” You say, turning your face back to his and pressing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes onto your face.

“Y/N.” He says more forcibly now, causing your fake smile to drop. “Killing Zeke is my goal. It’s not my entire life's purpose.” Tears start to well in your eyes as you bite your cheek, willing them to stop.

“Okay.” You croak, grasping onto his hand tighter. You feel his grip on you tighten as well. “Levi Ackerman, we will get through this, do you understand me? You are not allowed to die on me until we are both old and gray and on rocking chairs outside on the little patio in front of our house, got it?” You say, letting the tears flow freely.

“Until we’re old and gray.” He repeats, nodding. You sigh out of pure exhaustion and lay down next to him.

“It fucking sucked stiching you up. I don’t understand how medics do that.” You say, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah, well, I could tell the stitches are shoddy at most. You’ll probably leave me with an ugly ass scar across my face.” He bites back. This earns a smile from you as you turn your head, pressing a kiss to his left cheek.

“You could prove to be a whole lot nicer to me. I had to drag your ass through a river.”

“I would’ve paid money to see you swim.” He muses, earning a drop of the jaw from you.

“Hey, I can swim fine!” You reason. A few beats of silence pass.

“Thank you. For dragging me away from those little shits and cleaning me up.” You nod and let one of your hands fall on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It’s steady and consistent this time, causing a smile to spread across your face as you close your eyes.

“I love you.” You say, grasping onto his shirt.

“I love you too. And I promise, for the rest of your life, I’ll be there for you too.” Unfortunately, the last part of confession falls upon deaf ears on your part since you passed out into a much needed sleep. That’s okay to him, though. He would be there by your side to tell you that again, and again, and again.

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arashikitten · 3 years

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Dark Danny Should’ve Come Back at Least Once

I think most of the Phandom can agree that The Ultimate Enemy was one of the best Danny Phantom episodes ever made, and for good reason. It was incredibly dark of a kid’s cartoon, especially one made by Bitch Hartman, and on top of that, it provided some very interesting lore and characters. We get to see Danny pushed to his absolute emotional limit in a way that I don’t think the show ever did before, save maybe for My Brother’s Keeper in season 1, and we get our first glimpse at Clockwork, who thanks to @five-rivers fanfic Mortified, has become one of my favorite DP characters. And of course, we get to see Dark Danny, or Dan.

But there’s one little thing about this episode that’s always bothered me: the very ending.

Because at the very end of TUE, we get a shot of the Fenton thermos that Dan is sealed away in rocking back and forth, before Dan’s face forms a massive dent in the side, his laughter echoing as the screen fades to the end credits.

You would think, with an ending like that, that Dan would come back in a later episode. That he would return in the series finale is this last big bad, this final demon for Danny to confront once and for all.

But that’s not what happens. And it kinda pisses me off.

Dan should’ve come back. We should have gotten at least one more episode with this guy, exploring more of his character, more of his side of the story, anything at all. And you know what would be a great way to do this?

Vlad.

Imagine this, if you will.

Dan makes his escape from Clockwork’s lair, dead set on finishing what he started. Eventually, he discovers Vlad’s portal (let’s say that Vlad decided to rebuild his here) and, upon coming face to face with the man who made him like this in the first place, freaks out. Dan makes an attempt on Vlad’s life, and Vlad just barely manages to escape.

Once Vlad is sure this strange new ghost won’t find him so easily, he realizes that this new ghost had Danny’s insignia on his chest, and puts it together that Danny must be involved in this somehow.

So Vlad makes his way to Amity Park to confront Danny about this new ghost. Danny assumes that Vlad is there to try to kill Jack or whatever, the two get into a massive fistfight, before Vlad finally tells Danny that he’s only here because a strange new ghost wearing Danny’s insignia popped out of his portal this morning attempting to kill him a second time.

And Danny freezes. He goes from snarky and flippant to sheer, raw terror that has Vlad actually worried. Danny demands to know what this new ghost looks like, and Vlad’s concern turns to fear when Danny’s face goes white with horror because this is the same kid who went up against Pariah Dark without a second thought, who has faced countless ghosts who’s powers could be considered godly with a fearless smile on his face, and Vlad may not have much respect for Danny but he knows what the kid lacks in intelligence he more than makes up for in bravery.

Meaning that whoever this new ghost is must be incredibly powerful, incredibly horrific, and incredibly dangerous.

Danny tells Vlad to go to Danny’s house and tell them to put the ghost shields surrounding the town up, to not try anything funny, and don’t. Leave. The Shields. No matter what.

For once, Vlad decides to take Danny’s lead. He appears on the Fenton’s doorstep, Armani suit ruffled and hair disheveled, telling them that there is a very powerful ghost making it’s way toward Amity Park and they need to put the ghost shields up now, or risk a Pariah Dark-level threat again.

Then Vlad makes his way toward the edge of town, because he still hasn’t gotten an answer from Danny as to who exactly that ghost was, and he’ll be damned if he can’t get an answer.

Meanwhile, Danny is just outside the ghost shields, waiting for Dan to arrive. He’s absolutely terrified, because what if Danny isn’t strong enough this time? What if he fails again, like he almost did before Clockwork turned back time? Would Clockwork do that for him again? Would he have to watch his future burn down this present that he’s taken so long to keep up?

Then Dan arrives. Right as Vlad makes it to the edge of the shield.

And Vlad watches with awe as the two fight. He watches as Danny holds his own against this ghost that had almost decimated Vlad barely 2 hours prior, watches as Danny outmaneuvers, outsmarts this menace, watches as Danny fights tooth and nail in a way that Vlad is sure he’s never seen before, and he realizes that Danny has been holding back. Maybe not at first, maybe not during those first few months, but definitely for a while now, because Danny is holding his own now when Vlad couldn’t.

But then that leaves the question as to why? Why is Danny going all out now? Why was he so scared of this new ghost? More importantly, when did Danny encounter this guy?

Because he had to have fought this ghost at least once before, to have had that reaction to Vlad’s description.

And then, he hears the other ghost’s voice, one that sounds like a strange mixture of his and Danny’s, and he hears him say “It doesn’t matter what you do, Danny. You might’ve stopped that explosion, but there are still so many other things that lead to me. A car crash, an unlucky ghost attack, the ecto-filtrator, Vlad getting lucky, all of them could still happen. Your friends, your family, all gone, and you still turn into me.”

And suddenly, everything makes sense. That ghost that Danny’s fighting, that ghost that attacked Vlad, that is Danny, or it was, before something twisted him into an unrecognizable monster, and Vlad has a creeping suspicion that it has something to do with him. And he realizes that Danny is so much more than he ever gave him credit for. He sees Danny, fighting his own future with a hope that Vlad would call naive if not for the fact that Danny had already thwarted whatever horrible future lead to this at least once before, and he understands that he was wrong about Danny.

Because this? Fighting against the personification of all the worst parts of yourself not once, but at least twice? It would require a maturity, a strength of will that Vlad knows he himself lacks, and he comes to the stunning realization that for all the childish quips and petty pranks, Danny is far more mature than Vlad ever was, far stronger than Vlad ever was.

And then, Danny does the ghostly wail.

And if Vlad was surprised before, then he's absolutely terrified now. That’s enough power to destroy an entire city, that single wail, and the sound is a bone-chilling scream that rubs the older halfa wrong in every way possible because that sound should not come from someone as young as Danny.

And now Vlad is caught between two realizations: that Danny is so much stronger than Vlad could ever be in every sense of the word, and that the only reason Danny is that strong is because he has to be, because he’s a child being forced to go against all manner of ghostly and cosmic horror all on his own, and Vlad suddenly feels intensely guilty because he should’ve been helping Danny, and instead he’s done nothing but make his life harder.

At that point, Jack and Maddie arrive. They freak out because Vlad is so close to Phantom and this other extremely powerful ghost, what the hell is he thinking!? And Vlad is trying desperately to get them to leave, because Danny looks exhausted and Vlad might be an ass, but he’s starting his redemption arc now and that means making sure Danny’s secret, and by extension Danny himself, is safe from his parents. Vlad knows what it’s like to be on an examination table, knows how terrifying it is to have doctors looming over you with knives and bright lights while you have no idea what’s going on, and he’ll be damned if he lets Danny (who he again reminds himself is very much still a child) go through that with his own parents.

But it’s too late. Danny detransforms right there on the street, in full view of Jack and Maddie and everyone else who’s gathered there (Dan’s been sucked back in the thermos at this point).

Danny turns around, covered in scratches and burns and bruises, blood in his mouth from where Dan punched him in the lip, left arm hanging in an unnatural angle, and he sees everyone: He sees Vlad, icy blue eyes so similar to Danny’s own filled with uncharacteristic worry.

He sees Sam and Tucker, both with wide, scared eyes, and he can just barely see the faint shimmer of tears gathering in their eyes.

He sees Jazz, face pale and her knuckles white as she grips the Fenton peeler with all her strength.

He sees Valerie, her helmet down and exposing a flurry of emotions ranging from shock to anger to horror to pain.

He sees his mom and dad, clinging to each other as they stare at Danny, at their son, and come to the realization that their son is dead, their son is a ghost and he has been for a while now and how did they never notice? How could they not notice that they had been shooting at their own son for at least a year now, that their boy had been putting his afterlife on the line for them while also trying to keep up with school, and evade capture by the GIW, all at the same time?

And Danny is scared, he’s so scared, because his parents look horrified of him and they think he’s a monster, and they hate him, because why else would they be looking at him like that?

He feels his fathers arms wrapping around him and he’s sure, he’s so sure that they’re about to haul him off to their lab to be pinned down and dissected by his own parents, because they saw Dan, they saw what he would become, they saw what he is now, they know now. But then his mom and dad start apologizing, because they never noticed, and they should’ve, they should’ve seen that Danny’s low grades and missed curfews and skipped classes were because he was putting his life on the line for everyone in this town over and over and over again. They apologize for not making him feel safe in his own house, because how many times did they rant about dissecting their own son right in front of him? How many times had Jack and Maddie shown Danny a dissected blob ghost and effectively told him that he was the next one on the list? How much hell did their own son have to go through on his own, because his own parents couldn’t see what was right there?

And Danny finally realizes that no, he’s not going to end up on a dissection table, that his parents do accept him as he is now.

But there’s still this lingering fear because they don’t know. They don’t know what Danny might turn into, and he can’t keep that from them anymore, because Dan is a secret he can’t keep anymore.

Jack and Maddie are confused when their son pulls away, and for a moment they’re worried that Danny’s upset with them, that he’s angry at them, because why wouldn’t he be?

Then they see this nervousness, they see how he’s shaking and tense, and they might not always be able to read the room that well but they can tell that there’s something else going on here that Danny wants to tell them, even if he’s scared to.

So Jack and Maddie ask Danny if he wants to talk about whatever it is back at the house, and Danny says yes, but Vlad, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz should also be there, because Danny needs some level of support and he knows that Vlad won’t stop pestering him about Dan until he tells him.

Valerie steps in at this point, finally getting over her shock to demand to know what the hells going on, was Danny Phantom the whole time? Who was that other ghost? Why did that other ghost say that Danny would turn into him?

Sam and Tucker, who have been through the emotional wringer watching their best friend fight his evil future self, then reveal his identity to his parents, are kinda pissed at Valerie, because Danny’s already stressed out enough as is, she doesn’t need to be adding on to it. A fight almost breaks out between the three of them, which only stopped when Vlad of all people, steps in saying that while Valerie does have a right to know what’s going on, all of this yelling will do nothing but cause problems.

The three simmer down, and they all head over to the Fenton’s house, where Danny tells them everything: the portal, Pariah Dark (Vlad suddenly finds a particularly interesting spot on the floor), and Dan. He tells them about how Jack, Maddie, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker died in an explosion in that timeline, how that timeline’s Danny turned to Vlad to take him in, how Alt!Danny asked Vlad to remove his human half so he wouldn’t feel that pain anymore. How Alt!Phantom had been driven insane by the separation (he leaves out the part where Phantom fuses with Vlad’s ghost half: he’s not sure Vlad wants him to tell them about his halfa status), killing his human half before destroying most of humanity. How Danny had been forced to fight Dan a year ago, when he had attempted to blow up his friends in family in this timeline to ensure Dan’s recreation here.

When he’s finally done, about an hour and a half later, Danny looks around the room: at Valerie, at Vlad, at his best friends, at his sister, at his parents, and he sees not only acceptance, but respect. Pride. Because they saw that Danny was willing to look his fate in the eye, and say that he would change it no matter what. They saw him fight tooth and nail to protect them, they saw him defend them from his own demons with a bravery most grown adults don’t have, much less a 14 year old boy.

And they accept him.

#Danny Phantom #long post #how I think the finale shouldve gone #Dan Phantom #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #jazz fenton #jack and maddie fenton #sam manson #Tucker Foley #valerie gray #angst #Dan shouldve been the series finale villian and I will fight anyone who says otherwise #Vlad could’ve gotten a redemption arc where he realizes that Danny is technically a kid and is so much stronger than Vlad gives him credit #like yeah I made a post on how Vlad is both an incel and a boomer not two days ago #but like #his character could’ve been so much better?#Danny could’ve gotten a mentor dammit!#BAMF Danny

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cd-head · 3 years

Text

Two brothers, one word

Xisuma and EX, modern (minecraft like world tho) power AU - Xisuma is a powerful man who is immortal, having been alive since the start of the Universe - EX is a powerful man as well, but he lives off of eating others memories

Same speech as ‘As time clicks’, look there for it

I just. Really wanted to do this

Lets get started, my doves

~~~~~~~~

The cold iron bars kept them apart. Two brothers, not just brothers, twins. Forged since the start of the world, each going their own way. Until one, a Admin separated from the twin, creating his own world. Having people over.

While the other was left to burn and suffer, turn into a glitch. Turn into a dangerous man.

And here they were. One in a forest green suit and helmet, one that had a purple visor and hide his face from the his twin. So much was different about them, they looked different now. They behaved different. Everything.

The other was in bright orange clothes, chains holding him around the ankle. Long dark hair fell down to his shoulders and it was pulled into a raggedy ponytail,. His cold blood eyes stared at his twin who stared calmly back before he reached up a hand and set his helmet down, sitting down on the floor in front of the bars, across from his brother. Dark locks of black hair that was neatly taken care of, his lilac eyes were a calm and pleasant force of nature, yet singling he could be dangerous when wanted.

“Can you hear them?” The admin finally asked, looking up to the devourer who tensed at the words, having not expected to hear the British man speak. “All these people, who lived in fear of you and your judgement?” The admin hummed out, the question looming in the air. The words spoken so sharp yet so gently.

“All these people whose ancestors,” The admin paused, thinking of the right word “, devoted themselves, sacrificed themselves to you.” His gaze sharpened a bit, the gaze that was soft and questioning merely a second ago hardened on the other man.

“Oh, you like to think yourself as a god!” The admin chuckled darkly at those words, his gaze hardening into a glare. A small wash of magic swam around him. His dark hair fluttering a bit in it while his beautiful eyes stared at the body of his brother. “But....” The admin tsked “You're not a god.” He said matter of factly, his eyes darkening even more.

“You're just a parasite!” He watched as the devourer shot up at those worlds, glaring harshly at the admin who stayed seated but the deadly glare remained. “Eaten out with jealousy and envy!” He hissed while the devourer slowly lowered himself back down. “And longing for the lives of others...” The admin’s glare weakened, the gaze in his eyes being replaced by a look of pain.

“You... feed on them.” The man hummed out. “On the memory of love,” Soft music played in the house while a man led a beautiful woman into a slow dance, her perfect giggles and his chuckles. She wore a soft pink dress that fit her perfectly, but the gaze on other man was unknown. A dark figure, faded from memory ((I dont believe Stress has a husband or boyfriend and such and I don't ship hermits so-))

“and loss,” The portal jump faded around them, a new world fresh and new in front of them. They all split off, getting ready for their builds around. But a man stood standing, pain wavering in his chest as he stood tall in his suit clad form, a soft breeze whisking the mustache on his face. He shook himself out of it, there was no time to think of the pain of the world jumps, losing all the builds he had before.

“And death,” A loud scream rang out before a message in the chat appeared, announcing a death to the fellow hermits. They ignored it mostly, it wasn't anything new but the smaller hermit who was due to that shot forward, a hand clenched on his chest as he breathed heavily. His sweater wrinkling under his tight grip.

“And joy,” Laughter rang out between the three men, each one different in their own way, but yet. They were great friends. A loud explosion rang out behind them and they high fived. A big grin on each of their faces, another job well done.

“And sorrow!” The flowers wrinkled around their feet before a man looked to his brother, for what he believed was the last time. He gently patted his brothers shoulder before he was yanked into a hug, both of them bursted out into tears. Neither wishing to go but, they had to. Both put on their suits, and departed their ways.

The admin put a hand on his chest, glaring harshly at his twin before he stood up, the twin following. The harsh glare from the admin disappeared. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath “So.....” He hummed, pain wavering a bit in his voice before he steeled it. Anger and hatred fulling his voice at last. “So, take mine.” He looked to his twin.

The admin chuckled darkly. “I hope you have a big appetite.” The twin’s eyes darkened and his arm darted out, grabbing the admins hand and magic swivelled around them, the red magic reaching up the admins arm before the purple one overpowered it, shooting the twin back. “Because... I’ve lived a long life....” The admin’s voice corrupted a bit, soft yet powerful. His voice carrying in the deep winter breeze.

“And... I’ve seen a few things.” The admin looked up to meet his twin brothers eyes once more, purple magic trickling around the suited man. Before he gave his brother a chance to speak, he spoke up himself.

“I walked away from the last great Time War, I marked the passing of time lords!” The admin’s voice was slowly raising, a hand grabbing onto the cold metal of the iron bars. Pain wavering in his eyes, his emotions so clear and yet so hidden.

“I saw the birth of a universe and I watched as time ran out.... moment... by moment... until nothing remained!” The admin slammed a gloved hand onto the harsh cold metal of the iron bars. “No time, no space. Just me!“ The admins voice wavered a bit, anger and pain mixing together so perfectly, so horrifyingly open and carrying his voice out through the cell.

“I walked in universes where the laws of physics were devised by the mind of a madman!” Memories flashed before the admins eyes, his magic getting stronger by the moment and more of it danced around him. As if mocking him for his pain while the twin stared at him in pure shock.

“And I watched universes freeze and creations burn!” Pain rippled through him so openly, his voice cracking a bit as the pain and horror got to him once more. The flashes of the dead bodies. The pain of respawning. The running...

“I have seen things you wouldn't believe!” The admin screamed, banging his hand on the bars again. His magic getting stronger, pulsating almost with pure power that grew more each time the admin spoke. “I have lost things you will never understand!“ The pain carried through his voice. In his eyes showed the pure pain and torture the admin had gone through.

“And I know things, secrets that must never be told, knowledge that must never be spoken!” The admin screamed, yanking himself from the bars and lifting his head to look to his twin brother in the eyes once more. “Knowledge that will make parasite gods blaze!“ A sudden burst of magic surrounded the admin, before it formed in almost paper around him, the admin floating as his eyes flew a bright purple.

“So come on then!” The admin nearly screamed at the top of his lungs. “Take it!” The magic grew stronger, his eyes glowing brighter, the papers spinning faster and faster around the powerful man. Pain carrying his voice along with anger, misery and pure hatred.

“Take it all baby!” Tears ran down the admins face, staring at the horrified face of his brothers that was now dripping tears down itself. “You have it all!” He reached a hand forward and a magic bursted shot at the twin before he felt like he was being held under lava. He panicked and tried to get to the top, get air. Get out of the burning rage of pain he was feeling.

But then he was out, he was curled up on the floor in front of those horrid iron bars. He watched as the admin, his brother. No. They weren't brothers no more. They were nothing to each other. Not even the blood in them would change the admins mind.

He was not related to that mind, and that was finale.

The admin looked at his twin. At EX, before the admin, Xisuma, left completely.

And never came back.

~~~~

Thoughts?

#Hermitcraft #Evil Xisuma #Xisuma #Stressmonster #Iskall #Grian #Featured around X and EX #Mumbo Jumbo #bdoubleo100 #TangoTek #Impulse #Hermitcraft boomers #fanfics #Tyler writes #My writing #Angsty #Mentions of death #Mentions of blood #Mentions of abdoment

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dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard · 4 years

Text

Chapter 5–BLACKBOX; Scene 5

master of the heavenly yard pages 115-123

Arth took refuge inside the palace with everyone who had been nearby.

It was a spur of the moment action, but it appeared to be a fairly correct decision.

“We should be able to hold out here for a little while.”

“…But there’s no guarantee we’ll remain safe here,” Anne replied, remaining calm even as she listened to the illusory palace creak.

Someone staggered as they came down the stairs.

“Miss Lily!”

Yukina went to go greet her, supporting her by the shoulder as she walked her over to Arth and the others.

“Looks like you’ve been through an ordeal, young miss Muchet.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be much use, Your Majesty. …What is that box?”

“Not sure…But we figure it’s the ‘method for erasing souls’ that Mariam was talking about. Judging by the fact that its effect seems weaker against this palace—an imaginary object that souls have created—”

“So it really is a weapon that specializes in the erasure of souls. I wonder what’ll come first, the destruction of the palace or the abatement of the box’s power…”

“Nothing’s going to get resolved from wishing. We have to do something about it…”

But there was no one who could make any suggestion to the king on how.

“…”

Despair.

The word that Arth hated the most.

But he couldn’t think of any other phrase that could convey their current situation.

Is there…is there nothing we can do!?

“—My my, look at the man who was king of Lucifenia of all people making such a timid expression.”

Everyone present turned to look toward the voice they could hear from the entrance.

The first to give a cry of surprise was Yukina. “M-miss Gumillia!?”

But the other woman shook her head.

“…No. It’s just an accidental resemblance?”

“B-but, even so you look just like her—”

“In this world, people who resemble each other come in threes.” Then she briskly walked up to Arth. “King, don’t lose hope. The more agitated everyone becomes, the faster the palace will be destroyed.”

“…What’s the meaning of this?”

“The palace has taken shape by the imagination of everyone here. If their will wavers then naturally—"

“I’m not asking about that! I want to know why your appearance has changed.”

An expression of shock came to her face at those words. “--! You—know my identity…”

“Though it sounds like I’m the only one who’s realized.”

“Looks that way…But please, call me ‘Nemesis’ for right now. I want to avoid riling everyone up any further.”

“Alright. Well then—Nemesis. Do you have some idea?”

“I do. Just leave everything to me now. I shall safely put a stop to that box.”

“…Then I will rely on you. Try not to do anything rash.”

Nemesis nodded and then walked past Arth.

--She was heading for the roof of the palace.

The force of the “Blackbox” had not grown weaker, the black vortex continuing to spread.

The box itself had gotten quite close to the palace.

Nemesis looked upon it with an air of composure.

At this range…it should connect.

The “Blackbox” could make use of a power that was unrivaled when it came to souls.

However, when it came to a soul like Nemesis, protected by a physical body—a “spirit cage”—it had no effect.

That “black box” wasn’t a weapon to start with.

It’s simply a device for use in experiments. It’s delicate equipment.

Kyle had been unable to destroy the box.

A monster making use of the power of the “Demon of Pride” was without a doubt the strongest around—but ultimately he was nothing more than a soul himself.

I’ve come to know…quite a bit about that box, and the rules of this world.

It was true that even if one was a soul, they could still touch physical objects, and have an effect on them.

But it seemed this had limits.

If a soul were to attack an item or person that actually existed, their power level was reduced dramatically.

I was never really the type to play computer games, but…

Nemesis recalled a conversation she had once exchanged with a friend long, long ago.

“—Ah, that’s not right, Miss Barisol. Magic doesn’t work on that guy.”

“…Hey. Do I have to keep doing this? I want to get back to my research soon.”

“You need to take a breather every once in a while. Play a game, even.”

“…Feels like I’m getting more stressed, not less.”

“Anyway, the cyclops has a magic resistance of 90%, so you’ve gotta attack him with physics.”

“I don’t get this. How can such a puny man as the protagonist have any effect on such an enormous monster just by swinging a sword around?”

“It’s a game.”

“Sigh…”

“You should learn the combat system of this game first, Miss Barisol. Generally attacks on things with opposite attributes doesn’t work in this. Use physics for physics, and magic for magic!”

“Alright alright, I got it…Miss Hazuki—"

Evillious, Lucifenia, Elphegort—

All of these names had been given by Hazuki.

She had said that they were names that featured in her favorite game.

If this is like the “Blackbox” that I know, then its structure should be largely unchanged. The frailest point in it that’s the easiest to break should be…”

Nemesis readied her gun.

The bullets were loaded.

But she only had five shots left. She didn’t have any spares.

She couldn’t waste a single one.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…

She carefully set her aim.

She aligned her sight towards a gap in the box…a place where wiring could faintly be seen.

…Physics for physics!

As she cried that out in her mind, she pulled the trigger.

The tremors in the palace stopped.

Upon seeing that, Arth looked up to the ceiling.

--Did you succeed, Elluka!?

Yukina ran to the window, and immediately let out a cheer.

“…She did it! The box is falling to the ground!”

Allen looked on in amazement as the box ceased functioning and started to fall, shooting out fireworks.

--But he quickly regained himself and shouted at everyone, “Fall back! It’s heading this way!”

Germaine and the others heeded his words and started to run in the opposite direction from the box.

A few seconds later—

BOOOM!

With an enormous thud, the box crashed to the ground.

“…There was no need to get so worked up,” Leonhart muttered, turning around. The box had landed farther away than they’d anticipated, as though it had changed course mid-fall.

They all decided to watch it for a little while, to be on guard against any explosions.

“—It’s over,” Mariam said to Allen, her expression one of great suffering.

“Yeah. But…at the cost of a lot of victims.”

“…I wonder what happened to the people who were sucked up into the box?”

“Nemesis said that the ‘Blackbox’ might have the function to shift souls to an alternate dimension.”

“Nemesis?”

“Ah, erm…I mean Elluka. Some things have happened, and that’s the name she’s going by now.”

“--! Where is she now--?”

“She came to the battleground with me. I’m positive that she’s the one who brought the box down just now.”

“I see…Then well done, Elluka,” Mariam whispered earnestly.

But then her expression immediately grew grave again.

“If it can move them to another dimension, then that means—”

“…We may never see them again…”

The battle had ended in favor of the improvised Lucifenian army.

But the souls that had been swallowed up by the dreadful box would never return…

…Or so they thought.

“Heeey, yannow!”

They could hear a careless shout from the direction of the box.

Everyone there immediately knew who it was from.

“Chartette!”

Germaine broke into a run, and others followed suit.

--Chartette was walking towards them, supporting a once again human Kyle on her shoulder.

<<prev------directory ------next>>

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spectraspecs-writes · 3 years

Text

Korriban - Chapter 93

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 92. Chapter 94.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

-------------------

There are a grand total of four tombs in the Valley of the Dark Lords, two on one side and two on the other side. There are smaller Sith graves here and there but nothing too spectacular about them to my layman’s eye. One of them has to be the tomb of Naga Sadow, and I won’t be able to get in there until I pass the final test. The other three seem to be fair game. The only way to know anything is to ask one of the archaeologists myself.

A human is standing near the first tomb on the right, notating things in his datapad. Looks like some runes, but I wouldn’t know either way. Archaeology is not my field of interest. Sure, I’d hang out with anthropologists from time to time, but archaeologists would come later, if at all. My interest is in the here and now, maybe the evolution of an ecosystem. The human seems to know something, given his frantic interest. “How old are these runes?” I ask.

“Aren't these tombs fascinating?” he says, “These ruins date back to a period when the Sith were first formed, before their exile into the far reaches of space. We had no idea the Sith were here so long ago!”

“And whose tomb is this?”

“I've been working on a translation of some of the runes here. I'm quite excited - this may very well be the tomb of Ajunta Pall!”

The name itself excites him and he says it in a way that sounds like I should know who that is. But all I know is the gossip from the library. “You’ll have to forgive me, my knowledge of history isn’t what it should be - who was Ajunta Pall?”

“Ajunta Pall was one of the first of the great Sith Lords. He rebelled against his Jedi Masters and led the way for the rest of us that followed.” I’d imagine that would have been quite troubling for him. I mean, now, anyone who turns against the Jedi has the Sith to fall back on, a whole different philosophy to study and learn. But to be the first, to have nothing else but just knowing you want to try something more than just what the Jedi teach, to carve your own way. It must have been confusing. And lonely, at first. I kinda feel for the guy, even though he’s been dead for thousands of years. “These runes claim that he was interred here… and I wonder if his sword might not be here, as well.”

“I heard something about his sword,” I say, “What makes it so special? Does it have powers or something?”

He shrugs. “The legends don't say anything about it. It may have had powers for Ajunta alone.”

I take a look at the tomb. “I’m surprised no one’s gone in to get it,” I say, “Something like that would probably be prestige worthy.”

“A few of the bolder students have tried,” he says, “They did not return. As I understand it, the tombs are quite dangerous. From what I've been told, the tombs have old traps and machines that are still active.” After all this time? “They were designed to keep out intruders when they were made and still do.” He shrugs again. “I suppose if the academy wanted to make a concerted effort, the tomb would be opened, but I think Master Uthar prefers to keep it as a challenge for the students.” He shakes his head. “The sword may be tempting, but I'm not about to risk my life to find it.”

“Well,” I say, “I’m gonna go for it. If I find it, I’ll let you have a look.”

“You would forego prestige for me?” he asks, “Not very Sith-like.”

Well, if Yuthura holds up her end of the deal, I’m not worried about prestige. “Between you and me, I don’t have anything to worry about.” He still looks at me strangely and goes back to his datapad. Carth, Jolee, and I head into the tomb.

Eating seems good for the tuk’ata that are obviously here - the droppings are a good size and shape for a predator this size. I’m not studying them so I’m not about to go digger in it, but they don’t look like the droppings of a fibrous diet. More a meat-based one. I need some light. I should have grabbed my flashlight from the Hawk during lunch. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I was so focused on Carth. Out with my blue lightsaber again.

Whoops - what did I just step on? A gnawed datapad - the tuk’ata must have tried eating it before deciding it wasn’t tasty enough to be worth the effort. Looks like it still works, at least a little. It’s an archaeologist’s datapad, so it went through heavy use. A quick skim tells me that this dude was really into rocks. There aren’t a whole lot of words I recognize - rock dudes weren’t a staple to scouting teams, and while I could recognize a fair few minerals it was by no means my specialty - but there is one that stands out. Therangen. I hung out with enough anthropologists to know that one. It’s a fuel found on most planets. Cleaner burning and provides more energy than wood but way more dangerous. If there’s therangen here, then I want to avoid setting off any explosions. Blaster fire should be fine but no fire-fire.

Tuk’ata ahead. They aren’t as open as the matriarch was, I won’t be able to persuade them away. An explosion would scare them off, but since I have no idea where the therangen is localized, it could also kill us or destroy the tomb. Not something I want to do today. After all if I’m going to die there are cooler ways to do it. So I guess that means going into attack. I activate my other lightsaber and head for them. Carth is right behind me - watching me again, the flirt - but it takes Jolee a few seconds to react. I’m not usually a head first attacker but there aren’t a whole lot of ways for me to attack from another angle in a tomb. But that also means there aren’t too many places for the tuk’ata to go, so we take care of them pretty quickly.

The tomb opens up to a large chamber. Two bridges cross a large chasm, but both are blocked by obelisks. One bridge is free and clear past the obelisk. The other has four large assault droids. The droids look defunct, but I doubt they are. Say what you will about the Sith, but their droids hold up. Republic droids tend to trade longevity for versatility, while SIth droids tend to be the opposite. (And Czerka droids have neither. Aratech has both, but they’re pricier. Smaller brands, it’s anyone’s guess what you’re getting. Any droid I’ve built is certainly versatile but since I use a hodgepodge of parts, they aren’t guaranteed to last without repair. But by that same token, they’re easy to repair. For me, anyway. I’m rambling.) So if we can we’re going to want to use the other bridge, if we can figure out how to go around the obelisk. If it were just me, by myself, I could just jump across. I’ve made worse jumps with the Force. And I could probably teach Jolee how to do it, if he doesn’t know already, but that would leave Carth over here alone and I don’t want to do that. So obviously, we have to figure out how to get rid of the obelisks.

There’s a lever. It’s never going to be that easy.

“I’ve never seen a rock like this,” Carth says, looking at the obelisk.

I take a look myself. Oh, so this is where the Therangen is. “This is Therangen. Which means getting past it won’t be a problem, but it could create a few,” I say.

“How do you mean?” he asks.

“Therangen is a fuel, burning it creates a lot of energy,” I say, “Which means it’s highly explosive. We can blow it up but there’s no telling what damage that could do to the tomb. Plus there’s the other matter of those assault droids over there who will probably activate when the thing blows up. Getting over there wouldn’t exactly be easy so we’d have to rely on ranged weapons to take them out and my aim sucks.”

“Hang on,” he says, “I’ve seen you make all kinds of jumps, are you telling me you can’t make this one?”

“Not easily, I’d need a straight shot, so I’d have to be on the bridge, and in order to do that we’d have to blow the obelisk, so the droids would activate and they’d shoot at me while I was making the jump. It’s an ill-fated endeavor.”

“Maybe going that way,” Jolee says. We both look at him. “What if you went over the other obelisk?”

You know, I hadn’t thought of that. I take a better look at it. That’s a jump I could make. “Yeah, I could make that.”

“Perhaps you could deactivate the droids as well,” he says.

Four droids? It would take a hot second, but yeah, I could do that. Depending on how old the droids are, I could either use my override code or just break a few wires. “I could do that.” I position myself and jump. I almost crash into one of the droids but I miss it by, like, an inch. “Wait by the other obelisk,” I shout back to them, “I’ll give you a signal.” They both move towards the Therangen obelisk.

Wow, these droids are old. I’ve never seen an interface like this before in my life. Not that I need to be familiar with it to deactivate the droid. I don’t even need to be delicate - there are exposed wires on the back. And I don’t need my droid toolkit, either, I can just pull these out with my hands. I’m not sure what wires go to what, since I can’t read ancient Sith, but it’s not like the droid’ll blow up on me, it’s not a bomb. So I just unplug everything, just to be safe. Five wires for four droids takes a little bit but when I’m done, the easiest thing to do is just jump back to the other bridge and blow up the Theragen myself. “Stand back, guys, this should be a pretty big boom!” I get some distance myself, lob a frag grenade, cover my ears, and wait a few seconds. One… two… three… BOOM! A few rocks fall from the ceiling but other than that the tomb is no worse for wear. The droids stay deactivated. Yay. The boys cross over the bridge and we move on.

That seems to have been the only security between the tomb entrance and the crypt. Doubtless, Ajunta Pall’s sword is buried with him, in the sole sarcophagus. But as I slide the stone sarcophagus open, and see the three swords inside, the crypt door closes, locking us in here. And the crypt gets cold. Not a normal cold, either. I turn.

This is weird. Something with the shape of a person, but not exactly a person. “Too long…” it says, “… too long in the cold and the dark. I am disturbed again? A human…”

“Now this you don't see every day,” Jolee says, “This… this is an old spirit full of the Force.” Hang on, buddy, ghosts aren’t real. Well… I guess the Force is weird like that. “I sense great sadness and regret. Walk carefully.”

“A… Jedi?” the spirit says, “Here? Why have you come to this dark place, Jedi? Why… disturb my sleepless rest?”

Hold on a moment. I think… “Are you… Ajunta Pall?” Boy, would that be a trip.

“I… had a name, once,” the spirit says, “Ajunta Pall. Yes, that was my name.” This day is getting weirder and weirder. “I was one of many. We were servants of the Dark Side… Sith Lords, we called ourselves. So proud. In the end we were not so proud. We hid… hid from those we had betrayed. We fell… and I knew it would be so…”

“Those you had betrayed,” I repeat, “Your Jedi Masters.”

“Yes,” he says, “Those who had taught us to use the Force… who warned us against the Dark Side. Yet we embraced it in secret, reveled in its power. We were… discovered? Or did we act? I can no longer remember. But here is where we came… to hide, to grow. And here we fell.”

“Why here? What was so special about Korriban?”

“Our temple…” he says, “… our tomb. Built far from our enemies. We revered power and threw off the teachings of our old masters.” Not really the answer to my question. “It… we were not the first to fall to the Dark Side. But we… had more power than those before us. It… came from elsewhere…”

“Elsewhere?” What does that even mean? The Force comes from within and without - it doesn’t exactly come from anywhere, it’s everywhere. “What do you mean?”

“Our oldest secret.” Ooh, secrets! “Only… only we would know, we lords. Only we would know where our power came from…”

“Where? Tell me.” No, I’m not seeking that power. But, one, I can’t resist a secret, and two, the whole “elsewhere” thing doesn’t make any sense.

“I cannot, human,” he says, “It is a secret of so long ago… I no longer remember. You who bristle with the Force… you must find this place…” Is he talking about the Star Forge, or the map? Something about destiny, that’s for sure. But then he looks at me, like he can’t place me. “Or… have you? Or did you? Or… will you? Oh, so… many images…” I guess when you’ve been in tune with the Force so long, the past and the future start to blur together. “I… see your heart, human Jedi. I see your power, your pride.” I’m not that prideful. “You… you will find the old place, the dark place… and you will regret it.”

This is getting creepy. “Why? What’s there?”

“So much power… it is blinding. I… I remember so little…”

“This secret…” I ask slowly, “…is it the Star Map?” Well, this will go one of two ways.

“I… I do not remember.” I should have expected that. “A map? Perhaps it is a map. But it has not been buried with me. All I have now is my sword. My sword…” He gazes past us. “I filled it with my pride. And it is… buried with me, now. A corpse as I am a corpse. I am dead, as my faith… is dead. And I shall remain here… surrounded by blackness in death as in life…”

Even for a ghost, he’s depressing, geez. “I feel sorry for you,” I say.

“Most of my brethren would desire… only to take what power I have left. Even if it would destroy them.” He pauses, like he’s considering me. “I wish my sword to be… taken away from here. I do not wish it to rot away as I have. I command this of you.”

“What should I do with it?”

“If… if you are wise, you will not keep it,” he says, “In the end, it is what destroyed me…” Definitely not taking it back to the Academy, then. “There are… three blades within my sarcophagus. Only one is truly my sword, but it has been so long… I do not remember which. Find the sword that is mine and… place it on the statue.” Which he indicates. “If it is truly mine, then it is yours.”

“How do I know which one it is?”

He pauses. “I do remember one thing of my sword…” he says, “… listen to me carefully… ‘I am that which grips the heart in fright, hearkens night and silences the light.’ It was… written on my sword long… long ago. Go, then… find my sword and place it on the statue…”

His body is long gone from the sarcophagus, but the swords remain. I may be a relative newcomer to the Force, but I do know a thing or two about swords. I unbuckle my lightsaber belt and hand it to Carth, before pulling the swords one by one from the sarcophagus. The best way to get a feel for any sword is to see how it handles.

The first is a vibrosword, which hints to me very strongly that it’s not the one. There’s nothing especially “Dark Side” about a vibrosword, and they aren’t particularly powerful. Granted, any sword can be powerful depending on whose hand it’s in, but vibroswords aren’t that special. They’re not too heavy, you can equip them with bells and whistles, but they’re cheap. This is not a tool of the Dark Side.

Now this is impressive. A silver-lined sword that feels like it’s in touch with the Force. It has a warmth to it - like fire, it’s a good warmth and a bad warmth. It would keep your hand from cramping, but it could also burn unarmored flesh. This could be an impressive weapon for a Dark Jedi. But Ajunta Pall’s creepy poetry said something about “silencing the light.” I wouldn’t say a white-hot sword silences the light.

Which leaves the final notched steel sword. Even if process of elimination didn’t tell me this was the one, I don’t like this sword. The blade is black. It looks like a giant sawtooth. It has some weight to it that would cause a lot of damage but makes it hard for someone like me to handle. It’s cold. There are markings on the blade itself, but they’ve been worn away by use and time. This is the one. I can feel it. I take it to the statue and place it where it belongs.

“You…” Ajunta Pall says, breaking his silence as I put my belt back on, “… that is the one. That is the blade that destroyed me. Take it… take it and the other blades, even… take them and go. My darkness awaits me…”

“There’s no need for you to remain here,” I say, “With the blade gone, you don’t have to stay.”

“No… need?” he repeats slowly, “What choice have I?”

“You could always return to the light. End your torment. Go haunt a few younglings or something.”

“Return?” I see he’s ignoring the younglings comment. “But… I betrayed my old masters. They would never let me return to the light side. It is too late… too late…”

“It’s never too late,” I say with a shrug, “The Jedi are nothing if not forgiving. You’ve suffered long enough, and it couldn’t hurt to try.” He’s dead. The worst that could happen is he can’t go back and he suffers like he planned to.

What does hopeful even look like on a ghost? “If… if I could return. Oh, my Master…” Sounds like success to me. “… it has been… so long… and I regret so much…” His spirit fades, and the door opens.

We cross the bridge back. Something is waiting. What now?

I don’t even need light to recognize this sleaze. Shaardan.”The spineless worm actually made it through the tomb? I'm impressed.”

“Here for the ambience?” I ask sarcastically.

“I've been hoping that someone would do the dirty work in retrieving the sword of Ajunta Pall for some time.” he says, “It's been quite a wait.”

Jolee huffs. “Typical. Always ready to jump at what they perceive to be the easier path.”

“You wouldn't have considered, oh, I don't know,” Carth chimes, “… getting it yourself?”

Shaardan ignores the both of them. “Now that you have it, I just thought I'd relieve you of it,” he says, trying to flirt it out of me. No way, bud, I’m the queen of flirting persuasively. You can’t beat me at my own game. “It must be quite a burden, after all.”

“No, I think I’ll manage with it fine,” I say, “Kind of you to offer.”

“Oh, but I insist,” he says, practically dripping with snake oil, “I'm not about to let a chance to impress Master Uthar pass me by.” He scoffs. “Especially not for a pathetic excuse for a Sith like yourself.” Oh, we’re not flirting anymore? “Hand over the sword, worm. You know I'm the superior, here.” Even if he is the better fighter, which, he’s not, can he not see Carth and Jolee? I’ve got numbers on my side. I glance back at Carth, who has clearly been waiting for the chance to smack Shaardan upside the head.

But come on. There’s an easier way to do this. “Just let me get it out,” I say, and I set my pack down.

“Fine,” Shaardan says, “No tricks, though… I’m watching you.”

Idiot. I give him the silver sword. “Smart move” he says, “You're obviously more pathetic than I could have even imagined. Thanks for the sword… worm.”

“It’s always a dream, Shaardan,” I say sarcastically.

He’s gone by the time we exit the tomb. The archaeologist is still outside working on his datapad, but he does a double take when he sees the sword. “I don’t believe it - you actually did it!” he says excitedly, frantically moving like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “That's it, isn't it?! How did you ever acquire it?!”

“Ajunta Pall himself told me to take it from the tomb.”

He looks a tad annoyed. “You’re joking with me, aren’t you? The Sith Lord can’t still live.”

“Well, no, it’s not a tomb without a dead guy in there,” I say, “He’s definitely dead but he still told me to take the sword.”

He thinks about this, I can see the gears in his head turning. Then, “Oh, this is quite interesting! My mentor told me that Sith apparitions might be possible, but I never truly believed it!” Believe it, baby, they talk. “Thank you for the information! I must go and inform my mentor at once of this strange news!” He starts to leave.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I say, and he turns back. I hold out the sword to him.

“You’re giving him the sword?” Carth says, “We could have used that!”

“Ajunta Pall said he didn’t want it rotting away,” I say, “Who better to care for it than an archaeologist?”

“I still can’t believe you would just give me the sword and pass up the prestige for yourself,” the archaeologist says.

“My competition is drying up pretty quick, don’t you worry about me. You just made the find of a lifetime, after all.”

He’s too excited to think anymore about it. He pulls off his outer tunic and wraps the sword in it, before rushing back to the Academy.

I look back at Carth. “Ajunta said the sword basically doomed him. The power of the sword could easily corrupt me, or anyone who uses it. Giving it to an archaeologist, even a Sith one, pretty much guarantees it’ll never be used again.”

“I think it was a wise decision, lass,” Jolee says, “Probably the best in line with Ajunta’s wishes.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Carth says reluctantly, “I guess I just never saw the point in preserving weapons like that. But if it’s that powerful, maybe it’s for the best that nobody uses it.”

I take a deep breath. “Well,” I say, “I’ve still got another tomb in me - you guys?”

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” Carth says. God, the romance in a statement like that - you’re killing me, Bunny Man.

“You’re just going to drag me along anyway,” Jolee says, “Might as well go willingly.”

One more tomb on this side of the Valley. Let’s go.

#star wars #knights of the old republic #kotor #autistic artist #fiction #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #carth onasi #jolee bindo #shaardan #ajunta pall #korriban #chapter 93

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spoon-writes · 4 years

Text

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 5

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 5 - Tatooine

Sinead turned the memory bank over and over, the metal warming up between her hands. Most of her life she'd found herself in close proximity to a mechanic, so learning proper droid maintenance had never been a priority, something she regretted now, looking down at the lifeless box.

A pleasant and familiar hum surrounded her as the ship hurtled through the dark void, lulling her into a sense of calm she hadn’t felt since leaving the ruins. Even now, hours later, she felt the presence of it lurking in the back of her mind.

Suddenly, the world tilted, and Sinead crashed to the floor. The memory bank few out of her hands and skipped across the floor. She pushed herself up on her hands and knees, when the ship rocked violently, making her cling to the bunk to keep from being thrown clean across the ship.

Two alarms started wailing in tandem.

She gritted her teeth and grabbed hold of a rung on the ladder, climbing into the cockpit before the ship shook and tipped wildly.

The Mandalorian was in the pilot’s seat, his hands flying across the dashboard, flicking switches and trying to stabilize the ship. The kid was strapped into his seat, his head swirling around to look at all the light coming to life.

Sinead sat down and pulled the safety harness over her shoulders.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Company."

The Mandalorian jerked the steering handles and the ship spun away, a volley of blaster bolts whizzing past the window.

According to a screen on the console, a small starfighter flew directly behind them, firing every time the Razor Crest was still for long enough. They'd never be able to outrun or outmaneuver it.

Cold dread expanded from the base of her spine, making her muscles twitch and tense. Every sound seemed dull, like she was hearing it from inside a vacuum.

The starboard turbine was hit, showering the cockpit in sparks as the shock traveled into the main engine. A third alarm joined the cacophony.

Sinead swallowed hard and found her voice. "Doesn't this hunk of metal have any shields?" She grabbed the armrests so hard her knuckles turned white.

The stars turned into streaks as the ship careened to the side, another round of lasers streaking past the window.

It had to be pirates, not many were brazen enough to attack a gunship, even out in the Outer Rim. Maybe this time she’d die instead of-

A shadowy figure flickered to life above the dashboard. "Give us the child, Mando," it said, its voice clipping in and out. "I might let you live."

Sinead looked at the child, who gurgling nervously to himself. She wanted to reach over and reassure him, but the harness was too tight. Why would anyone want the kid badly enough to attack them for it?

And explosion rocked through the ship, and underneath there was a sound of metal groaning.

Flashing lights danced on the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Hold on.” Mando sent them into a wild spin, the stars turning into white streaks as all sense of direction spun away as quickly as the ship.

It felt like Sinead had been dropped down a bottomless well.

The hologram warped as power redirected. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” it said before cutting out completely.

There was no way the other ship wouldn’t blast them to smithereens the first chance it got.

Mando hit the brakes, and the ship hung unmoving in the air, before the starfighter screamed past it, scraping against the Crest with a sound like an old hovercart in a trash compactor.

Mando fired once, and the laser ripped through the small vessel before it had a chance to spin around and attack. The ship exploded, leaving glittering debris like stardust in its wake.

Sinead sat back in her seat. Her entire midsection felt bruised from the harness, but the alternative was being a smear on the window so she couldn’t complain.

“Nice flying.” She didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so sarcastic, but fear and adrenaline still coursed through her veins, making the blood rush in her ears.

The Mandalorian either didn’t hear or ignored her, as he checked the status of the ship.

“Losing fuel,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

Sinead undid her safety harness and reached over to the child. “Are you okay there?”

The kid laughed as the power went out and they found themselves in complete darkness.

“I think he’s okay,” Sinead said, gently booping him on the nose. “Please say we’re not stranded out here.”

“I think I can redirect the power,” the Mandalorian said, getting up and flicking a switch at the back of the cockpit.

The ship came to life, a sad, sputtering one that wouldn’t last long, but enough so that Mando could propel it towards the nearest planet, an orange dust ball hanging in the void.

“Are you gonna tell me who’s after the kid?”

Mando glanced at her over his shoulder.

“You know, this whole silence thing is getting old. At least come up with a lie like the rest of us.”

Mando glared at her, and Sinead offered him a sharp smile.

The planet was getting closer and closer when Sinead leaned forward. “What is this place even? Or are you not going to answer that either?”

“Tatooine.”

“Oh, that’s just great.”

The Mandalorian adjusted their course toward a small smidge on the planet’s surface. “The Hutt’s been dead for years, and he hasn’t been replaced yet.”

Sinead made an uncertain sound. “Yet, but I’m sure the clan’s just waiting until the region is stable again. They’re not exactly the type to give up a planet without a fight.”

“You been here before?”

“No, but I’ve heard it’s a desolate hellhole.”

Gold-orange crags and sand dunes took form as they cruised over the surface, the ship groaning with the effort it took to keep them in one piece.

Sand. She really hated sand.

The comm came to life and a scratchy voice filled the cockpit.

“This is Mos Eisley tower, we’re tracking you. Head for bay 3-5. Over.”

“Copy that. Locked in for 3-5.”

Mos Eisley was nearly impossible to see, a sandstone city poking up through the sand which piled up at the walls making the squat houses look like igloos in the desert. A communication tower rose from the center of the city, its blinking lights the only reason most travelers spotted the city from the air.

The ship wobbled as it made ready for landing, and new alarm blared. The Mandalorian turned it off with an irritated slap on the console.

The kid had fallen asleep sometime after the excitement of the dogfight died down, and the Mandalorian left him sleeping on the bunk, while Sinead retrieved the memory bank, which had ended up on the other side of the ship and stowing it away in the nearest compartment.

Mando looked at her. “Maybe you should stay in the ship.”

Sinead blew out a deep breath. “As you said, the Hutt’s long dead. I can take a look around his old palace, see if there’s something we can use.”

“Just be careful.”

Sinead snuck a glance at the Mandalorian. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Sure.”

Even before the ramp was down, Sinead felt the hot, unyielding fingers of the desert close around her throat. Dry heat snuck under her clothes, making her mouth feel as dry as the surroundings. Cold, unwanted memories pushed to the forefront and she took a second to put them back where they belonged, a dark and unused corner of her mind where they wouldn’t get in the way.

Three pit droids hurried toward the ship the second the ramp touch down, their rusty bodies bouncing over dusty ground like springs.

The Mandalorian pulled his blaster and shot once at the ground in front of the droids, who screeched and collapsed into small heaps, cowering in f-ear.

Sinead yelped and pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Fuck, Mando! What is it with you and droids?”

“Hey!” A shout rang out from inside a cluttered garage, and a short human woman wearing greasy overalls stormed out from behind a safety barrier. Her short stature was almost made up by her rather gravity defying hair. “You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!” The way she was brandishing a heavy wrench left exactly how he’d pay for it up to interpretation.

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Mando ground out, shooting a look at the droids who scurried away.

The mechanic gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? Do you think that’s a good idea, do ya? Let’s take a look at your ship.”

She walked around it, noting every dent and scratch on her datapad. “Look at that,” she said, holding a scanner up to the ship. “You gotta lotta carbon scorching building up top. If I didn’t know better, think you were in a shootout.”

Sinead stepped forward before the Mandalorian had a chance to reply. “We ran into a meteor shower out by the Torq. Barely made it planet-side, to tell you the truth.”

“Uh-huh,” the mechanic lifted an eyebrow, but she stopped asking questions, turning around to continue her inspection. “… a special tool for that one. Oh yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that.”

The Mandalorian rolled his shoulders, and Sinead bit the inside of her cheek. That all sounded very expensive.

“You got a fuel leak! Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

“Like I said, just barely.” Sinead shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “How much for it?”

“The repairs you need ain’t exactly cheap-”

“I’ve got five hundred Imperial credits,” the Mandalorian said.

The mechanic grabbed the credits and have them a good look. “That’s all you got?” When the Mandalorian didn’t magically procure more money, she looked at the droids. “Well, what do you guys think?”

The droids tittered in unison, and the mechanic shrugged. “That should at least cover the hangar.”

“We’ll get you your money.”

“Mm, I’ve heard that before.” She gave both Sinead and the Mandalorian a skeptical look.

“Just remember- “

“Yeah, no droids. I heard ya’. You don’t have to say it twice.”

Sinead looked back at the ship as they left the hangar, a thin pillar of smoke was rising from the turbine and the mechanic had already started banging around underneath it.

The second she stepped out into the blaring sunlight, her face stung with sand being blasted through the street. If she never had to step foot in the desert again, she'd die a happy woman.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked the Mandalorian, who didn't look bothered in the heat. Of course, since she couldn't see his face he might be dying underneath the helmet. The T-visor seemed completely black in the sunlight.

"I’ll head to the cantina, see if I can find work. Don't get too close to the palace, the Hutt's guards might still be around."

Sinead gritted her teeth. "Right, I have been in these kinds of situations before you know: I'm not helpless."

"That's not-" the Mandalorian blew out a sharp breath and shook his head. "Never mind."

Sinead made her way to the Hutt's palace alone, reminding herself to breathe regularly, not too deep and not too shallow. She was just a tourist walking alone, not a runaway slave from the very clan that until recently had an iron grip on the planet. The people walking past her weren't staring, they didn't recognize her at all.

She clenched her hands so they'd stop fidgeting. It felt like someone was watching her, a burning spike to the back of her head.

A market had been raised in a big square, rows and rows of hastily put together stalls crisscrossed in a confusing jumble. Shouts from the many vendors mingled in the air into an incomprehensible wall of sound. A Besalisk was grilling sweet meats over an open fire, holding a skewer in each of his four hands. The meat sizzled as Sinead walked past.

Two Jawas screamed in unison at everyone who came close enough to their stall, doing little to entice anyone to stop. Piles of scrap spilled into the street, and the Jawas screeched in indignation whenever anyone accidentally stepped on it.

Sinead ambled down the rows, trying to look like she was browsing the goods without attracting so much attention that anyone would talk to her. Most of the wares being sold were practical, tools and dried food, spare parts for droids. Under a moth-eaten pavilion that offered little in the way of shade, she found a small booth filled with trinkets that looked like they had been ripped straight out of the bowels of a ship. There were brooches made of twisted metal and rings that doubled as lug nuts.

An old woman sat on the other side of the stall. She wore ragged clothes that at first glance made her look like a scarecrow left out in the sun for too long, and it wasn't until she moved that Sinead noticed her. Her face was disproportionately small for her body, resembling a walnut someone left on top of a pile of old laundry.

"See anything you like?" Her voice sounded like a trash compacter filled with rocks. "I make 'em myself."

That wasn't hard to believe. Sinead hummed politely and picked up a brooch made from cogs and a rubber binding. "I’m afraid jewelry isn't that high of a priority right now."

Her wrinkles deepened as she pursed her lips. "Meh, people don't even know what they need until it's right in front of ‘em. Tell ya’ what, I'll give you a good deal, okay? The earrings for fifty creds."

Sinead couldn’t help but snort. The earrings in question were made from old circuitry, the hooks so rusty that wearing them was a surefire way of getting a nasty infection. "Fifty is a bit steep, don't you think?"

The old woman grinned, showing her one snaggletooth poking over her lower lip. “Low price to pay for beauty, innit?”

Tapping on the table Sinead though for a second before saying, "tell you what, I'll buy one of your-" she gestured to the assorted jewelry- "wares … if you can give me some information in return."

The old lady grinned again, her tooth a terrible distraction, looking like a broken roof shingle. "Let's hear it then. What'ya want?"

"Oh no, information first, then the sale."

A shadow fell across the woman's face as she glared Sinead, her watery eyes studying her face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn’t trust me."

Sinead kept her face carefully neutral. "Past experiences have taught me to hold payment until after I get what I want. I’m sure you understand, right?"

There was a cruel glint in the old woman's eyes. "You bet I do. Ask away, dear."

For one long moment, Sinead blanked on what to ask her. She wanted to talk about the Hutt, but the old crone had done nothing to inspire trust.

"The entire galaxy was turned upside down when the Empire fell. How was it here?"

The old woman cackled and folded her wizened hands over her stomach. "You haven't seen our little art project out by the wall, have ya’? A little parting gift from us to the Empire."

"Who controls the planet now? The New Republic-"

The old woman spat on the sand.

"... right."

"We control ourselves, dearie." Sinead had never heard a term of endearment used with so much venom. "We ain't need anyone come here and tell us how to run our own damn home. After they got the message, most of the bucketheads left. The ones who didn't, well, they make a good decoration, don't they?"

"A place outside the grip of the Empire and the Republic sounds nice."

"Sounds like you have something to hide."

Sinead shrugged. "I don't like tyrants or bureaucracy."

"We got rid of our old tyrant years ago, ain't ever looked back since," the old woman sneered,

There we go.

Sinead shifted her weight and leaned closer. "Heard about that on the subspace, that's nasty business. Any chance the Hutt's head is hanging with the others? I'd like to go give my goodbyes in person."

The old woman peered at Sinead. "Sounds personal."

"As far as I'm concerned, hating the Hutt clan is everyone's business, and those who don't are either terminally stupid or, well, part of the Hutt clan.”

"That kriffin' piece of blubber is probably still out in the Dune Sea somewhere. I doubt even the bloatflies'll touch his stinking corpse."

"He was killed in his palace? I heard that place is a fortress."

"My boy went out with some of the others, just to have a little lookie-loo at the place, but the slaves didn't wanna let nobody in. Said they’ve taken over. Been coming in from all over the galaxy, the buggers."

"They still out there?"

The old woman seemed to remember herself. "You ask an awful lot of question, dearie. Maybe it's time you hold up your end of the bargain, hmm?"

Sinead opened her mouth to protest. If Tatooine had managed to rid themselves completely of Hutt control, then maybe other systems would follow suit. The dangerous look in the old woman's eyes told her, however, that pressing on would be a bad idea.

"Sure," she said, looking earnestly at the merchandise. "Uh, yeah … how much for the necklace?" It was the only thing that, if you squinted and stood five meters away on a foggy day might resemble jewelry. It looked like an old optic unit ripped from a droid and attached to a leather string.

"Hundred creds."

"You're joking."

"My information doesn't come cheap, girl. I can always call the guards, say you robbed me of my hard-earned knowledge."

For once, Sinead was momentarily lost for words. "That doesn't-"

"Since the Empire left, we've had to handle justice ourselves, you see, and sometimes the new guards can be a little rough."

Sinead bared her teeth in a smile. "I'll give you twenty."

"Eighty."

"Thirty."

"Seventy-five."

"Thirty-five."

"Seventy-five."

Sinead tossed some credits on the table. "Forty. That's literally the last credits I own."

The old woman snatched the credits with remarkable speed, squirreling them away in her dirty cowl.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Sinead said, stuffing the necklace into her pocket before moving on from the stall.

When she got back to the hangar, the suns had reached the top of the sky and it had impossibly gotten even hotter.

Mando came walking from the other side, his gleaming armor standing out between the bedraggled denizens of Tatooine. He sped up when he saw Sinead.

"You should stay in the ship," he said, when they reached the door to the hangar at the same time.

"You know, people usually greet each other before starting to bark commands, you should really try it."

The Mandalorian shook his head, grumbling under his breath.

“Did you manage to find work, or do we have to go back empty handed? I have a feeling that won’t go over too well with the mechanic.”

“I did, but look … does the name Fennec Shand mean anything to you?”

The color drained from Sinead's face.

"She's hiding out in the Dune Sea with a bounty on her head. I have to bring her back."

"Alive?"

"Yes."

"What a shame."

Fennec Shand’s name brought with it a very special kind of dread. Every Hutt slave had heard stories of Shard bringing back runaway slaves in a condition where they wished they were dead.

“I’ll stay in the ship.” Sinead looked around, like she expected Shand to jump out from behind the nearest hover-cart. “How long will it take?”

“I don’t know. I’m bringing this kid … it doesn’t matter.”

Sinead bit her lips. “Just make sure you get her. I don’t want her coming to Mos Eisley in a murderous rage.”

The Mandalorian moved towards the entrance to the hangar, and when the door opened, the smell of oil and metal hit them.

She wanted to get off this planet, doubly so now she knew that a vicious killer for hire had made this her home. There was nothing to do but wait.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x oc #mando x oc #din x oc #din djarin x oc #fanfiction #ends of the earth #oc: sinead

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whump-with-wren · 5 years

Text

Whumptober Day Two - Explosion

Fandom: Marvel, Spider-Man, Iron Fist

Characters: Peter Parker, Danny Rand

Word Count: 2,215

A/N: Okay so Disclaimer, this is Bad, I had like two hours spare time to write today. But hey, I wrote words so there’s that. Also I was combining it with another prompt from another prompt list, so that’s why it’s less whumpy and a bit weird in places.

___

Two figures sat on the edge of the building, watching an apartment building below them. They had been there an hour already, waiting for any sign of the gang that supposedly had dealings in one of the third story rooms.

Peter Parker was beginning to get bored. At first, he had thought a stakeout with the Iron Fist would be exciting, but so far nothing had happened. There was a reason he usually dealt with crimes once they were underway, but Mr Rand had invited him along, seeing as his gang lead had led him into the middle of Queens.

Now, an hour later, Peter sat against the lip of the building, tapping on his phone. Mr Rand was sitting on the edge of the building, focused on the apartment below. Peter’s phone was becoming less and less interesting (there was like, one Poke-centre in range, and no raids were happening nearby) and the Spider-Man suit was beginning to get uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Peter said, finally sick of the silence. They had talked a little at the beginning, but Mr Rand had seemed very focused - which seemed unusual. What small dealings Peter had had with him had given him the impression that he was always ready to talk. This stakeout must be important to him. “You got Pokemon Go on your phone?”

Mr Rand turned to him, frowning slightly under the mask over his face.

“That’s a thing - Pokemon’s still around?”

“Oh dude!” Peter said. He scrambled to his feet, moving to sit beside Mr Rand, his feet hanging off the edge of the building. “There’s so many Pokemon now. And Pokemon Go is great, you totally need to get it!”

Mr Rand was suddenly very interested. Peter was happy to tell him about the previous fifteen years of Pokemon content as he downloaded the game. It didn’t take long to get Mr Rand set up with his starter, (Charmander, a choice Peter frowned about but didn’t say anything - the best in his opinion was Bulbasaur) and once he was set up Peter quickly gave him a rundown of basic gameplay.

“So when you join a team - you gotta join Valor - add me as a friend, I can send you gifts! My username is, uh…” He paused for a moment, checking to make sure giving it away wouldn’t give away his identity “Darth_Parkour02.”

(Ned had told him to just go with Spider-Man. Peter had said that would give him away to all his classmates. So Ned had tried to claim the username, only to find it had already been taken. They later found it had been taken by Flash.)

“This is pretty cool,” Mr Rand said.

The slightly awkward silence and boredom Peter had been experiencing before had evaporated, and as they sat, discussing the merits of each starter (“Bulbasaur is the best though! He’s super strong, and you need a plant type for the first gym.” “Yeah, but Charmander’s a dragon. Dragons always win in my book.”) Peter began to enjoy himself again.

“Hey, there’s an ice-cream cart down there,” he said suddenly, pointing. Mr Rand looked up from his phone and seemed to light up. “I can get us some.”

“Ice-cream sounds great, see if they have banana curry flavour.”

Peter shot him a weird look that was probably covered by his mask but turned to swing down when something caught his eye.

“Is that your guy?” he asked quietly, slipping off the edge of the building and resting his elbows on the lip. Mr Rand frowned, following suit, peering in the direction, all thoughts of ice-cream suddenly gone. Peter had Karen zoom in on the suspect, analysing his face.

“Damion Charles, 35, served time for selling drugs,” Peter read from his screen.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Mr Rand said, his voice hard. Peter glanced at him in surprise, dismissing the information from in front of his face. It always gave him a headache when he tried to focus on both the information and anything else.

“You’re mad at him,” he observed. Mr Rand nodded.

“Yeah, his gang has been selling drugs to kids around my neck of the woods. They’re making a real mess of them. My girlfriend is about ready to kill someone over it.”

Peter nodded, understanding the brewing anger he’d been experiencing from Mr Rand all evening.

“Well, he’s here now. Do you want me to swing down and nab him?”

“We need more than that - does your fancy suit have recording abilities?” Peter nodded, and Mr Rand continued. “If you go up the outside of the building, I’ll go inside - we can try to catch him in the act, or at least get something to go on.”

Peter nodded again, turning to his backpack. He rummaged through one of the pockets for a moment, withdrawing a small com-unit and holding it out.

“Here, I, uh… borrowed this from Mr Stark last time I was visiting. It’s synced with my suit, we should be able to keep in contact.

Mr Rand nodded, taking it from him and slipping it into his ear. Peter made sure his backpack was securely webbed to the building, then nodded to Mr Rand and launched himself off the edge.

For a moment, he felt the intoxicating sensation of falling, the air rushing around him, feeling powerful and insignificant at the same time.

Then, he threw out his hand, letting a web fly and feeling the familiar tug on his arm as he pulled up. He swung, landing lightly on the side of the apartment building, catching himself before he slammed into it. Pausing a moment, he caught his breath, looking back across the street to see Mr Rand rapidly making his way down the fire-escapes lining the building.

Turning to the task at hand, he began to crawl along the side of the building, keeping close to the side, pausing to analyse the blueprints of the building Karen had brought up for him.

He made it to the window he was aiming for, standing lightly on the fire escape and slowly peering around the corner of the window. From what he could see through the half-drawn curtains, the room was empty.

“Karen, can I hear what’s happening in that apartment?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” she answered, and a moment later Peter could make out the murmur of a TV.

“I’m in position,” he said through the comlink, hoping Mr Rand had turned his end on. A moment later, he got an acknowledgement. A moment after that, there was a knock at the door.

Peter shifted to a more comfortable position, flicking on the recording software and waiting. There was no reply.

After another knock, and still silence, Peter began to wonder if something was wrong. He shifted, trying to pry his fingers under the window. To his surprise, it came open easily. As quietly as he could, he lifted it, his practice of sneaking home late coming in handy as he slipped through the window, ending up on the roof.

The room was empty, the TV showing reruns of some old show Peter wasn’t interested in. He frowned, dropping lightly to the floor. At his request, Karen ran a quick scan of the apartment. No one - the closest person was Mr Rand still waiting outside the door.

Peter was moving towards the door to open it when something caught his eye. A box, resting on the kitchen bench. A sinking feeling filled Peter’s stomach as he flipped open the lid.

It was a bomb, slowly ticking down the time. Five minutes.

Peter stumbled back, heart pounding, mind racing. He hurried to the door, wrenching it open in a surprised Mr Rand’s face. Before the man could say anything, Peter started talking.

“There’s a bomb. I can try disable it, you need to get after him - he went out the window, I missed him somehow. If you go now you might be able to catch him.”

Mr Rand swore, rushing to the window. He was about to leave when he paused.

“There’s people in the building - if you can’t disable the bomb we need to get them out.”

“He’s getting away though!” Peter cried. He gently lowered the bomb to the floor, sitting beside it and staring at it. This was way beyond his amateur tech skills, he was good at science, not whatever this was.

Mr Rand growled, clearly torn.

“Can you disable it?” he asked. Peter hesitated, taking another look.

“I - I don’t know,” he admitted as he began to pull the bomb apart. That was enough for Mr Rand - he pulled himself away from the building and began to raise the alarm in the hall. Peter focused on the bomb, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves.

The clock was ticking down scarily fast. Despite his best efforts, Peter just couldn’t figure it out - everything he did only seemed to make the time speed up. Finally, he let out a growl - thirty seconds left. He wasn’t going to be able to do it.

“Is everyone out?” he asked, hurrying towards the window. “She’s about to blow.”

A dangerously long pause, then Mr Rand’s voice responded.

“No - the apartment beside you, there’s a kid. She was down for -” But Peter didn’t listen to what he was saying, turning and sprinting out the door.

He slammed his shoulder into the door of the next apartment, heart pounding as he rushed through the rooms. The girl was sitting up on her bed, looking like she had just woken up. Peter didn’t hesitate, scoping her into her arms and speeding towards the window. It took him a second to throw the window open, then, without hesitating, he leapt, arms wrapped protectively around the girl.

This time, the fall wasn’t intoxicating - it was terrifying. For a sickening moment, he hung in the air, then everything around him exploded. Hot air threw him away from the building, rubble from the building slamming into his back and arms. The girl screamed in his ear, and then he began to fall.

He had enough sense to blindly shoot a web, hoping that it connected with something. It was enough to slow his fall, and he stumbled hard to the ground, his legs giving way. He collapsed, rolling so the girl fell on top of him, gasping for breath.

His head was ringing, both from the explosion and the girl screaming right beside him. He could tell he was bleeding, even the suit wasn’t enough to protect him from being that close to the blast.

Voice caught his attention and he groaned, pushing himself up. The girl was sitting on his chest, crying softly. As he was beginning to make his slow brain work to reassure her, a woman suddenly appeared, pulling her into a hug. Peter slumped back again, satisfied his job was done.

“You alright?”

The question caused him to open his eyes and groan in response, making out the face of Mr Rand through his mask. The older man looked worried as he crouched over Peter. He had taken his mask off, his curly hair dusted with ash, a bruise forming on his cheek.

Peter allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position, his head spinning.

“Did everyone get out alright?” he asked. Mr Rand nodded, crouching in front of him.

“Yeah, we managed to get everyone. He knew we were coming though.”

“And he got away,” Peter muttered. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He stood, holding out a hand. Peter stared at it for a moment, then clasped it and let Mr Rand pull him up. “You know what the worst bit is though?”

“He got away and a bunch of people are now homeless?” Peter asked as he swayed slightly. He would have to get Aunt May to check if he had a concussion when he got home.

“That too. But we didn’t get any ice-cream.”

Peter looked in the direction Mr Rand had nodded, noticing the ice-cream cart they had been eyeing up earlier. It had been knocked to one side, the ice-cream that had survived being distributed to the kids who had escaped the apartment. Peter grinned slightly.

“They gonna be alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll get Rand to send them some money through. It was partly my fault anyway.” He laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder, the sudden pressure sending the young man stumbling forward. He winched, a stab of pain rushing through his head. “You want to get that checked out? I know someone who can help, she’s a nurse.”

Peter hesitated - doing so might be a good idea, but he was hesitant to go to a stranger. And Aunt May would be worrying as soon as she heard what happened here.

“Thanks, but I should be getting back,” he said. Mr Rand shrugged, still eyeing him suspiciously.

“Alright, but if you ever need a nurse visit her - she’s discrete. She won’t give you away.”

Peter nodded, taking a few steps away.

“Been a pleasure working with you, Spider-Man.”

“Likewise, Mr Rand!”

“Call me Danny - I’ll let you know if I need your help again!”

Peter gave him a quick salute, launching a web and in a moment, he was flying over the city. He definitely needed to check if he had a concussion - he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.

#whumptober 2019 #no.2 #explosion #whump #spider-man #spiderman #peter parker #iron fist #danny rand #my fanfics

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v01d-ch1ld · 6 years

Text

If Bitterness is My Cancer, Fire is My Cure

If Bitterness Is My Cancer, Fire Is My Cure

Sirens could be heard in the distance, the flames licking the sky, shrapnel everywhere it was glorious! The night was ablaze with fire and screams, and the aching in her head finally eased. The voice was pleased with the current spectacle and Rebecca was in no position to deny it anything if she wanted to maintain basic mental faculties. Her father was laughing just about as loud as she was as she danced while singing “Funhouse” by P!nk. People were running in all directions, cars were crashed in the middle of the road, and another explosion rang through the Gotham night. The violence inspired a new fit of giggles from Joker, Harley, and the Jester. Her new name sealed her fate. She smiled her wider than normal smile and leered at the frightened civilians. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying this. The adrenaline coursed through her veins lighting up her senses, making everything brighter and sharper than before.

Flames licked at what was her old apartment. She was done with that life and this was the last step in becoming what she was meant to be: free. Her feelings were shallow, and she could only keep up the happy face for so long. Laughter turned to open tears as she broke down inside, the last fragile remnants of her sanity being severely taxed. That was her life. She was happy and now she can never have it back. A part of her was mourning while the other part was laughing. On her knees, she cried in the center of the chaos around her. The Joker looked on his protégé without emotion as she shed the last of her normalcy down her pale cheeks. He felt almost nothing looking on at the beast that he created mourn the civility it once had. Bitterness was raging inside his heart for the life he left behind, the family he was denied, the love that left him, the child that denounced him, and the God that forsook him. He felt no pity toward the wayward monster crying in the street, only happiness because he took back something that he had lost. She was like a child’s toy to him.

It had almost been two years since Rebecca went missing and, on this night, she died. There would be no funeral procession, no priest, no coffin, and no grave. She died with the exhalation of breath and smoke into the sky and flames burning her a funeral pyre. From the ashes, came a new being, the Jester a creature of pure pain and malice. There was no sympathy, no feeling, just emptiness, and self-satisfaction. Jester stood up, laughing once more, and got another bomb threw it into another building and howled when it blew, sending debris and broken burned bodies everywhere.

“Gotham is going to burn tonight!” She shrieked, twirling around. Joker looked on at the spectacle of the monster he created revealing in her newfound power of lawlessness and chaos. He was almost proud in a way.

Fire trucks came rushing down the streets, screaming along with them were police sirens. On the other side of Gotham Batman was getting a police signal. Arson in the Narrows. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the Bat Computer because he thought the fire department could handle it, but he kept it on in case things complicated themselves. Then the words “Joker” “girl” “psychopath” “advanced civilian casualties”, and “bombs” came in through the transmission and he was set on his feet hard staring the police radio. By now, the Bat signal was up for sure. Damian was out of town with the Titans and had been for weeks. Tim came down the elevator in costume already, but without his mask.

Tim looked like he hadn’t slept in a century, which was close to the truth. He grabbed his gauntlets, mask, and bo staff from his corner of the cave. After him, Nightwing came down without a word. Things were still tense between them and Bruce, but Dick was at least allowed back in Gotham after Rebecca had been pronounced dead. Dick got on his bike and left without a word. Tim got in the Batmobile proceeded to tap on his wrist computer. Bruce sighed pulled down his cowl and got in the driver’s seat, tearing rubber after Dick. Sometime between the mansion and the Narrows another motorcycle made up the procession to the crime scene.

Jason had been relatively missing except for a few bloodbaths in the last few months but he sped behind the Batmobile and popped a wheelie. The Red Hood looked like he meant business, more guns on him than usual and it looked as though he had procured some new toys. The plumes of black smoke guiding them to where Jester was having her debut bash.

At the scene of the crime, the police and Jester and Joker plus their goons were in what was basically a small war. Joker gas was flying over cars and tear gas came flying back. Volleys of bullets were being exchanged between officers behind riot shields and Joker gang behind cars with gas masks on. Jester was shooting with the advanced precision the tutelage of Deadshot can get you. Her .50 caliber custom purple and green pistols were tearing through the small blockade of officers. Joker was lobbing gas grenades and calculating an escape route, Harley was shooting her bazooka, creating a diversion for Joker to sort a way out of this. The many henchmen were trying to stay alive and watch for the Bat. Officers were unable to get back up due to Joker and company blocking the only route that it could come from due to the wreckage behind them, and they were also scrambling to keep civilians away from the danger zone. Gordon was in back trying to strategize how they were going to take down the Clown Prince of Crime, his Princess, and his whore.

Jim Gordon wasn’t a fool. He knew that there was no way to put this down without the help of the Bats. He just hoped that they would hurry. More and more property was being damaged and more and more officers were dying with every minute. Suddenly, there he was: Batman and three of the four of his entourage.

“Hello, Commissioner Gordon.” Batman greeted his friend. Nightwing was on top of a police car trying to gauge the enemy, Red Robin was calling Batwoman and Robin for backup and Red Hood was loading his guns with rubber bullets, per his agreement with Batman, and putting his hollow pointe magazines in his pockets for safe keeping.

“Thank the stars you’re here. The Joker came here with Harley and a new girl and they lit the place up and then the new girl began to blow up other buildings in the vicinity. She is just as crazy as Joker and extremely lethal. She has been laughing that horrible laugh all night,” Batman looks over to see Jester in near convulsions laughing as she shoots with deadly accuracy, “They have Joker venom gas grenades as well as bombs and we have been doing all we can just to hold them here.” Batman nods.

Nightwing calls out, Jester just disappeared. Then a bullet comes dangerously close to nailing the Commissioner in the head. Batman tackles him to the ground just as Red Hood uses his helmet’s head’s up display to see that the Jester has taken a sniping position on top of one of the buildings that aren’t burning. Red Hood then runs through the burning cars and wreckage to find a fire escape, leaving the others to deal with the Joker and Harley Quinn. This new chick was good. He needed to know how good if he was going to kill her. Switching to his hollow bullets her made his way up the fire escape of a building that was adjacent to the one that Jester was firing from. Making it to the roof he takes aim and fires, but she moves right as he takes the shot, the bullet missing by millimeters. She takes out her .50 caliber pistols loaded with mercury charge bullets. Of the two the mercury charge was the more lethal. Both had exploding bullets, but the mercury fulminate acted like a crystal of pure nitro in the center of the bullet, actually exploding inside the body instead of shattering causing about double the damage of a normal hollow bullet. Jason figured this out when he dodged and the ac unit behind him imploded, almost blowing him clear off the ledge.

“Hey! You have good aim, but I bet you that I’m better!” Jester called to the vigilante hanging off the side of the roof. He pulled himself up and back on to the roof.

“Trust me, honey, you don’t want to put up that kind of wager with me.” Red Hood barked back.

“You’re all bark and no bite, babe, I’ll have you ragged and bloody in five shots. Bet.” She smirked. Tossing her short hair over her shoulder and unholstering her other pistol from her left shoulder.

“You’re on! But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a shame to have to ruin- AGH!” He was cut off by a bullet in the shoulder. The pain was blinding, and he knew that arm was completely out of commission despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins in alarming volume. Switching to his left pistol, he took aim and fired.

“FUCK! That hurt!” A bullet had caught her in the calf of her left leg while she was trying to dodge. She put a bullet into his thigh and hit behind some scaffolding. The bullet was hollow, so she pulled out what she could and prayed that the rest wouldn’t hit her bloodstream for the next ten minutes, otherwise she was fucked.

Thunder cracked, and the rain came down in sheets. Drenched and irritated, Red Hood leaped onto Jester’s roof. He walked over to where she ducked and found nothing. Two gunshots, two bullets in his torso. Whipping around at speeds not good for his now busted ribs, he saw only a pair of high heels disappear behind a ventilation unit.

“One shot left, sweetheart,” he looked around,” and I know that you won’t do it!”

“Bet,” came from behind his ear before blinding pain and the sound of something shattering. His helmet lay broken on the rooftop. She had hit the butt of her gun right into the crown of his head. Dizzy, he looked around with his gun cocked hoping to get another shot in before he had to retreat. His legs were swept from under him and he looked up to see her with a gun to his forehead. Jason was cocky and looked her straight in the face. He wasn’t scared of death.

Rebecca was in shock. Jason. Jason. The Red Hood was Jason Todd. Memories painfully burst in her brain, overwhelming her. She screamed and collapsed as her head felt like someone was spreading acid into her neural synapses. Curling into the fetal position she started to wail like someone going through the worst torture possible. For her, it was. She had just tried to kill the last ground she had to stand on. Jester in her brain was elated but she was horrified. She had just tried to kill the last thing she had to love in this world. She was going to go stalk him tonight as she had been for weeks. Just to make sure he was okay. But now she could only scream as memories buried under a year of torture came warring to the surface.

Jason had no idea what to do. He hadn’t even touched her, and she was screaming her head off. He was pretty sure she was crying. His leg collapsed under him from blood loss, and from this vantage point, he could actually see her face up close. Through the ugly pallor and the dark circles around her eyes and the black lips, he could still see her. Rebecca. No. After all the Joker had done he still was always able to top himself. He made normal criminals look like misdemeanor offenders. This took child abuse to a whole new level. Jason swore.

“This has to be a trick.” He said to himself

“It isn’t,” said that horrible voice in the back of his head. It was right no matter what he had found in his years of vigilantism.

“Jason! H-help me.” Her voice came weakly through the tears. She curled in on herself tighter. There was no mistaking it. It was her in the flesh.

“I will. I promise.” He picked himself up off the flooded roof and looked down at the pool of bloody water surrounding them. It looked like a murder scene. He hooked a grapple onto the other roof and swung down, leaving her up there to bleed.

Jason collapsed on top of the Batmobile. Harley Quinn was inside and unconscious. In a grand show of endurance, he peeled himself up off the hood and limped over to where Dick was ducking from bullets.

“Dick.” He called softly. It was forbidden to use each other’s real names while they were in costume per Bruce’s rules, but he figured now was a good time to bend the rules a little.

“What happened to you?” Dick looked concerned for his little brother. He was bleeding through four bullet holes and there was a steady stream of blood coming from his mouth.

“I-I found her. Rebecca.” He gasped out before he was forcibly hunched over in a coughing fit. “Jester s-she is Becca. I shot her. She’s up on the roof.”

Dick was flabbergasted. Everyone thought she had been dead for months. It had been two years since she went missing. He and the others had mourned for her. Now he finds out she is alive and bleeding on a roof. He nods to Jason and grapples up to the roof, avoiding bullets from all sides on his way up to rescue his little sister.

Jason chuckled to himself. His life was such a clusterfuck. Smiling, he heard Tim calling to him as he passed out.

Tags: @nxttime @dcuniversefanatic @dcdweeb @ravennightingaleandavatempus

#batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #robin #bruce wayne #harley quinn #oc #batman #red hood #red robin #nightwing #angst

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lovelyyyoongi · 6 years

Text

kryptonite i.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

genre: super!au; fluff / future angst

length: 3.0k words

warnings: mild language

summary: Sometimes, a weakness isn’t just some disadvantage or fault you might have that prevents you from accomplishing something. In fact, it could be a person who just makes you feel and act a certain way and you can’t even control yourself. When you met Kim Taehyung, you didn’t expect him to be your weakness. But when he met you, he knew you were his. You were his kryptonite.

a/n: it’s a super!au series!!! This isn’t going to be a whole series like Terminus or Sophrosyne so hopefully these won’t take forever to post heheh. i’ve been wanting to write on of these for agessss but i never got around to thinking of a plot until now! Also, i edited the picture you see below and I wanna know what you think? Should I stick to gifs or do you like the picture with the title? Hmm, please let me know!

“Y/N, you’ve got the papers handled,” your boss’ voice rose an octave higher by the end of her statement as you watched her flick her eyes up from the magazine she was reading to you, “don’t you?”

Clearing your suddenly dry throat, you sent her a pressed smile, “Of course, Miss Hwang.”

“Good,” she mused, casting her eyes back down to the magazine. When you thought your assistance was no longer needed, you turned to go, swiftly grabbing the large stack of papers at the edge of her desk.

“What do you see, Y/N?” Her voice caused you to jump and you turned your attention back to her. Noticing her holding up a magazine, In a Flash, you squinted your eyes, peering at the front page.

“The Blue Bandit robbing another bank.” Your reply was blunt, but your eyebrows creased in concern at the mention of the thief.

“Mhm, that darn Blue Bandit,” Miss Hwang tutted to herself, shaking her head. “I know we’re not a magazine of bad news but don’t you see how well this news is doing?”

Frowning, you looked around, wondering why on Earth she’d be asking you, an intern, about such a thing as publications.

“Uh––”

“Of course I understand it,” Miss Hwang waved a manicured hand nonchalantly before licking her index finger and turning the page. “It seems what the people want are super stories.”

“Well, it does bring a certain excitement to society,” you tilted your head to the side, tightening your grip around the stack of papers which began to grow heavy.

It was true. Since as long as you could remember, you’ve heard stories of the men and women with inexplicable powers who saved the world everyday. You used to believe they were just stories made by people and a big budget––just some people wearing costumes connected to wires behind a green screen.

But now? Everyday there was some sort of bad happening in your city which ended with some person flying out of nowhere to kick the crap out of the culprit. You’ve seen the explosions. You’ve witnessed a super flying over your city to fix it.

It was all over the news.

Magazines were made solely for the purpose of spreading Super News! as it was called. T.V. shows were made to tribute these heroes and yet, what was one thing you could never understand was how society didn’t know who these people were behind their masks by now.

I mean, come on. You’re interviewing some dude who can spit fire, literally, and you never once try to pry off his mask?

Maybe I’m just too curious, you thought.

“Hm, I suppose you’re right,” she looked up and gazed at you with squinted eyes. “Do me a favor and call in Seokjin into my office. Let’s hope he’s found anything worth reporting that’ll bring this decline to an end.”

“Yes ma’am,” you looked down and scurried out of her office.

Plopping yourself at your desk, you placed the stack of papers in front of you and released a long sigh.

“You were in there for a while.”

Rolling your eyes toward your best friend and colleague, you snickered. “She’s going crazy,” you revealed, turning your swivel chair so you were facing his desk.

“She’s been going crazy. This isn’t news,” Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips together with raised eyebrows.

“I feel kind of bad, you know?” You frowned, looking toward the glass doors you had just exited out of. “Mr. Choi is practically killing her with his good sales.”

“We just need to find a good superhero and have one of our guys stalk him,” Yoongi shrugged, turning in his seat and began to click away on his desktop.

“Shoot, that reminds me,” you stood up and walked across the office.

“Ah, Y/N,” Jin greeted with a playful smile, “What can I do for you?”

“Miss Hwang wants to see you.”

Groaning in frustration, he stood up and muttered, “If she makes me walk the streets and look around for any suspicious looking people who could be a potential super, I sweat to on all that is green...”

“Sorry buddy,” you frowned, patting his shoulder assuringly.

He left his desk and walked past you without another word and you turned to go before a voice rang out, “You busy today?”

Turning your head, you raised an eyebrow toward Namjoon, another coworker of yours. He was in the editing department. While Jin went out and got the inside scoop, Namjoon would edit Jin’s findings before they made it into the magazine.

“Not really. Miss Hwang mentioned a new intern coming in today so I’ll have to show him around,” you sighed with a tired smile.

“Him?” Namjoon pressed, looking at you suspiciously.

“Don’t get jealous now, you big baby. He’s probably young.”

“You’re young, Y/N,” Namjoon reminded, pouting.

Sending him a pointed expression, you deadpanned, “You know what I mean.”

“Alright, alright. Go have fun with the new intern,” he shooed you away, playfully, “But we’re still on for dinner tonight, right?”

Walking around the desk, you pecked his cheek softly and smiled, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t just another coworker of yours.

Smiling satisfied, Namjoon nodded and gestured toward your desk at the far end of the room. “Wouldn’t want Hwang on your ass today so you should handle that mountain of paperwork she gave you to do.”

“Aw, my hero,” you rolled your eyes sarcastically, “saving me from the pure wrath of our boss.”

“Hey, thank me when she isn’t making you go on a third coffee run this morning––”

“Y/N! I need a caramel macchiato, venti, skim, extra shot, extra-hot, and extra-whip!”

Looking away sheepishly, Namjoon mumbled, “Spoke too soon.”

“Now I’m off on a coffee run,” you sighed, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. “How many coffee runs do you think I’ll go on ‘till I get promoted?”

You didn’t wait for Namjoon to answer. Turning your body away from him, you hunched your shoulders and grabbed your purse from your desk.

Walking into the coffee shop, the strong scent of freshly bakes pastries and, of course, coffee engulfed your senses. Approaching the barista at the cash register, you sent a polite smile. “Miss Hwangs usual please?”

Nodding her head, as if having the order memorized, she wrote down a name on the cup and handed it off to another barista before pressing a few keys onto the register. “$4.56.”

You handed her the five dollar bill and something caught your attention in the top corner of your eye. In the corner of the store, above the breakfast bar seating was a small t.v. with a news program playing. You were used to the usual heroics of the well known supers residing in your city but this super, no, he was new.

“Do you know who that is?” You asked, pointing to the t.v. where a man was seen pulling a bus from hanging off of a bridge.

Looking up to catch a glimpse at the t.v., the barista shook her head. “Nah, this is a rerun from what happened last night down by the Greenlight Bridge. Apparently some guy tried to knock a tour bus off of it but this dude, whoever he is, saved them.”

“Huh,” you nodded, pouting in approval. With the rising crime rate in your cty, you were grateful another super was helping out. “Hopefully we see more of him.”

“Yeah, our city could use as many superheroes as we can get,” the barista agreed, handing you a brown paper bag. “Here’s your change, Miss.”

After thanking her, you headed back out and walked back into the office building just a few blocks away from the coffee shop.

“Y/N!” A voice shouted when you walked into the lobby, and what followed was the sound of footsteps hurdling toward you.

“Don’t knock me over, I have coffee!” You warned, closing your eyes, expecting what was to come.

“I learned my lesson before,” Hoseok smiled with a raised brow, stopping in front of you.

“What’re you doing here? Aren’t you on super watch taking pictures?” You referred to the Canon camera hanging off his neck.

“Well, I was, but then I got nothing so I sent Jimin to finish the job for me,” he shrugged.

Tutting disapprovingly, you scolded, “Sending a younger boy to do your work? Bad Hobi.”

“Hey, he’s my apprentice. He’s the one who wants to be a big shot magazine photographer so this is a minor job I’m giving him to test his skills.”

“Fair enough,” you nodded at his excuse to get out of work.

“You?” Hoseok eyed the bag and smirked. “Coffee run?”

“Oh, shut up,” you scowled, moving the bag so it was out of sight. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hwang needs her coffee.”

“Mhm, I bet she does,” Hoseok agreed with a pressed smile. He was never good at hiding how amused he was. He just loved to rub in your face how you were still doing coffee runs. Especially after you’d told him on your first day that within a few months you’d be promoted and working right alongside Miss Hwang.

Well, you were nearly six months in and...nada. You’re still getting coffee.

Stepping into the elevator and clicking the button for the top floor, you straightened your posture and took a deep breath. Walking into Miss Hwang’s office, you took the coffee out of the bag and gave it to her to test. Crumpling the bag into a ball, you tossed it into the recycling bin in front of her desk.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N dear,” Miss Hwang took a long sip of her drink and smacked her lips a few times, making sure the order was right. Nodding her head to herself in satisfaction, she set the coffee down beside her and gestured to the young looking man standing near her desk.

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet Mr. Kim Taehyung. He’s the new intern I told you about.”

“Oh!” You smiled politely, shuffling over to him and extending your hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” he took your hand and shook it with a light squeeze.

“I expect you to give him a thorough tour of the office and make sure he knows all the rules by lunch. Yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded with a confident smile.

“Okay, now shoo. I have heaps of work to do,” she looked back down at her desktop computer, waving you off with her hand.

“Yeesh,” Taehyung mumbled once you two had exited the office, “Is she always like that?”

“Yes,” you replied, curtly, “but you’ll get used to it. She’s really not that bad.”

“That’s reassuring,” Taehyung admitted, looking back at Miss Hwang’s office for a split second.

“Here’s your desk,” you pointed toward the empty desk beside Yoongi’s and you smacked his head when he didn’t even bother to acknowledge the new intern.

“Ow, what was that for?” Yoongi groaned, rubbing the spot where you hit him.

“This is the new intern and I expect you to be friendly and not scare him off like you did the last––”

“Woah, woah,” Yoongi interjected, holding his hand up to stop you, “I did not scare him off. Sure, I might’ve intimidated him but it’s business!”

“He was quivering in fear when you were in the same room as him,” you stated flatly and brought up a warning finger. “And that better not happen to Taehyung or else.”

“Don’t worry about me, Y/N. I’m not usually scared by most things,” Taehyung cut into your conversation with a grin.

“You say that now,” you raised an eyebrow, eyeing Yoongi with a glare, “but wait ‘till you’ll have to sit next to him everyday.”

“Now, you’re just ruining first impressions, Y/N,” Yoongi scolded, placing a hand on his heart as he feigned being hurt. “Not cool.”

“Sorry about him,” you apologized, standing in front of Yoongi so he was no longer in the view of Taehyung. “He’s great, too, don’t worry. A lot of working here is getting used to the environment. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the break room.”

Taehyung trailed behind you, looking around the halls of the well maintained building. “Have you lived here your whole life?” Taehyung asked breaking the silence between you two as you walked.

“Psh,” you scoffed, slowing your pace so you were walking beside him, “I grew up in a small town a few hours away from here. All I wanted to do was to move to the city and work in a tall building like I am. So after college, I packed my bags and left.”

“You’re brave,” Taehyung mumbled, smiling at how headstrong you seemed.

“My parents hated the idea, so of course, I had to prove them wrong,” you added with a chuckle. “What about you? You from the big city?”

“Me? Oh, no. I was raised on a farm far away from here. I didn’t come until recently when I thought about making a difference.”

“Hey, at least you have a moral reason to be here. I came here for my own selfish reasons,” you shrugged.

“Selfish? I don’t think leaving a place you weren’t happy in is being selfish. I find it admirable you’d pick up your things and leave.”

Stopping in your tracks, you blinked at the man beside you. Admirable? I’m...admirable?

“Sorry, was that too mushy?” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.

“No, no! It’s just...no one’s ever said that to me before,” you said, lowly, fighting the grin fighting to spread on your face.

“I find that extremely hard to believe,” Taehyung smiled, coyly, at you.

Was he flirting with you?

And if so...why was it affecting you so much?

Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze to the light blue door you stopped in front of. “Here’s the break room. Usually people come in here to talk crap about Miss Hwang...Don’t hang out with those people. She has ears everywhere,” you warned, staring at Taehyung with utter seriousness.

Taehyung coughed and nodded, “Got it.”

“Now, let me show you the printing room.”

“So, you think you got everything?” You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, watching Taehyung walk toward his desk.

“Like I said the four other times you’ve asked, yes, Y/N, I got everything,” Taehyung reassured, offering a thumbs up and convincing grin.

“Okay, well,” you sighed, patted your hands onto your skirt, “if you have any questions, just ask.”

“I do have one,” Taehyung piped, looking away bashfully. At this, Yoongi slyly looked up from his computer and looked between the two of you, curiously.

“Mhm?”

“I just moved here and I’ve only been to one restaurant before and it’s a pretty damn good one. So, I was wondering if you’d be willing to go to dinner with me...as colleagues, of course.”

Smiling at his offer, you were about to nod your head when you remembered your plans. Smacking your forehead, you sighed, “Gosh, Taehyung, I’d love to but I have plans with Joon tonight.”

“Joon?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Her boyfriend,” Yoongi answered, flatly. It wasn’t that Yoongi didn’t like Namjoon. Being your best friend, he tried to but he always felt you could do better. But then, you’d immediately shush him and assure that no one was better than Namjoon and you were happy. Finally Yoongi let go, accepting the fact that you were with a guy that made you happy.

“Oh,” Taehyung’s voice formed an ‘o’ shape and he nodded slowly. Cracking a smile, he offered, “Another time?”

“Of course,” you grinned, relieved that he didn’t pry into your love life by asking questions.

The three of you sat in your shared area of desks, occasionally talking about yourselves in attempt to get Yoongi to warm up to Taehyung.

And man, was it working. That boy was so charming, you could notice Yoongi engaging in more conversations than he’s ever engaged in before aside from the ones you’ve shared.

“It’s getting pretty late, Yoongs,” you gestured out the windows, revealing the night sky above the flickering lights of buildings across from yours, “You sure you’re staying? You’re going to be so tired tomorrow.”

“I’m always tired,” Yoongi stated, not bothering to look up at you. “Besides, Taehyung offered to stick around and get my coffee when I need it.”

Raising your eyebrows in surprise, you turned toward Taehyung for confirmation and he nodded his head with a pleased smile. “It’s the least I could do since you two have been such a great help today.”

Man, this guy was perfect.

“Uh, okay,” you stammered, unsure of how you felt about Yoongi’s unusual welcoming behavior. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Mhm,” Yoongi hummed, making a kissing noise and blowing air out of his mouth, still not bothering to turn to you. Even this boy’s flying kisses were lazy, you thought with an eye roll.

“Bye, Y/N,” Taehyung waved before hovering over Yoongi’s shoulder, watching closely at what Yoongi was writing.

You stepped out of the office and shivered instinctively as a cold gust of wind blew past you. Checking your watch, you debated on taking a cab to the restaurant or simply walking.

Determining that it wasn’t that cold and you still had enough time to go and not be late, you decided to walk. Only, what you didn’t know was the eventual danger coming your way.

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villainousvillains · 6 years

Text

Loki x Reader - Lesson Four: It’s Important to Feel Comfortable

Requested by Anon: I have an idea for another aura fic where she is in a big battle with everyone else, and as she is almost killed by a bad guy, her aura pulsates like a supernova and sends everything in a ten foot radius flying! She doesn’t know how she did the aura pulse, nor does she have control over it, so another lesson ensues to try and master the pulse!

A/N: *whispers* I love this one so much. eep. Also this title took me 20 years to come up with and I don’t like it I’m sorry. It doesn’t do this fic justice. In the process I came up with a title for another “lesson” so. Request away so I can use it. And another also, I’m posting this at a different time than normal bc I just finished it and I want to get it out as soon as possible bc I love it but then I had laptop troubles but I’ll probably reblog it tomorrow to make sure ppl see it bc I’ve seen other writing blogs do that... phew I’m kind of a crazy mess right now but writing this aura reader made me feel a lot better.

Other aura reader stuff:

Lesson One: Know Who You’re Up Against

Lesson Two: Leave the Past Alone

Lesson Three: Choose Your Words Wisely

Introductions

Ghost

“Have I taught you nothing?” Loki’s annoyed voice rang into my ear.

“Essentially!” I spat back, wiping debris and sweat off my face. Loki had been pissing me off so much today, and the fact that I was losing every battle I engaged in did not help.

“Get away from that one; I’ll handle him,” Loki barked. I sat straight up.

“No! I got it!” My feet slid in the dirt as I stood up, but I managed. My head swirled when I got to my feet and it took me a few seconds to catch my breath, but I quickly reengaged with the guy I was fighting. He was a scrawny dude, but his weapon was the biggest problem. He kept knocking me off my feet and catching me off guard, not giving me a chance to recompose.

“Stay one step ahead of him! Don’t let-”

I shut my earpiece off with a short growl, and summoned my aura to launch my body into the air, shooting wing-like shapes into the air in the color of my aura. I dodged the shots fired at me with ease, then dove in, trying to knock the weapon out of his hands. My efforts were in vain, and with a huff, I hovered back up in the air. Before I had time to react, I felt a surge of pain throughout my body. My focus was interrupted and I fell to the ground with a thud. I looked down and saw I was wrapped in some electric wire that the guy had shot from his weapon. The more I struggled, the tighter it wrapped, and the more my vision got blurry. I summed my aura the best I could, but it kept fading away. I groaned in pain, but I wasn’t about to give up. With a final burst of energy, I shut my eyes, suddenly getting my second wind. I was overwhelmed with energy and auras, consuming everything that surrounded me, then I felt no pain.

My ears rang, and I slowly opened my eyes. The wires that had previously been causing me so much pain sat beside me in useless strands, but the more surprising thing I saw was the barren wasteland that now sat in front of me. I wheezed, trying to catch my breath, as I looked that the circle I had created in the dirt and debris around me. Every bad guy we had been fighting was on the ground, which was good, but so was every avenger who had been grounded. I saw Cap sit up, dazed, and Nat laying face down.

I threw my hand to my ear to turn my communications back on. “Loki?” I breathed. “Where are you? Are you-”

“Y/n, are you okay? You weren’t near that explosion, were you?” He called back, voice frantic.

“I… I think I was the explosion.”

. . . . . . .

I never wanted to move again. My legs were sore, my arms were sore, muscles I didn’t know existed where sore. It was awful. It had been three days since the mission and the soreness had only dulled a little.

I rolled out of bed like a burrito and walked to the kitchen for breakfast, wrapped in a blanket that made me feel secure. Loki was there as I walked in, like he usually was, eating the leftover breakfast casserole we didn’t even know who had made.

“Hey,” I muttered, opening the freezer, looking for sausage biscuits.”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice sounding slightly concerned, but I ignored it. He hadn’t spoken to me much since after the mission. He was probably still mad at me. I put the biscuits in the microwave and turned around to lean against the fridge, facing Loki.

“You’re still mad,” I stated.

“Extremely,” Loki grumbled, pushing his food around with his fork.

I pursed my lips and nodded. “You’re not exactly reacting the way I thought you would.” Loki took in a deep breath, pondered saying something, then didn’t. “I’d rather you yell at me.”

“I’m not going to scold you.”

“Well, you should do something. I don’t know. You’re being annoying.”

Loki let out a grunt, making my eyes widen, not sure why I had asked him to react normally. “You are… absurd!” he exclaimed. I licked my lips and pressed them together in nervousness. “You don’t listen to me, you haven’t been using any of the skills I’ve taught you, and now you refuse to use your powers at all because of what happened last time! And you won’t talk about it with anyone! Not even me.” The last part was more of a mutter than anything else, but the rest was what I expected to hear immediately after the mission. Except for the part about me not using my powers. I didn’t think he had noticed.

“I have used my powers…”

“A blatant lie? Really? You usually try to mask it more than that,” Loki hissed, all fired up now. He stood up in a huff and threw his plates in the sink.

“I’ve only been resting,” I said, trying again. Loki turned to face me with a scary smile.

“See? Now that’s more like it,” he said with false pride, pointing a finger at me. “That one is more difficult to see through because that’s a lie you’re also telling yourself.” I rolled my eyes, exasperated by his ability to see through me. “If you believe it, then so should I,” he continued. “But the problem for you,” He came close to me and put his hands on both of my arms, “is that I know you too well.”

I looked up at him then down as I let out a sigh. “I really don’t want to use my powers again. That was… something I didn’t know I could do, and if I trigger it again... “ I trailed off and looked at Loki for reassurance.

“We’re going to have another lesson,” Loki told me, and I shook my head, fear coursing through my veins. “We’re going to have another lesson because you need to get over this fear. You’re not going to hurt anyone.”

I trusted Loki with my life, but I absolutely did not believe him.

. . . . . . .

“Start with the small stuff until you feel comfortable again,” Loki instructed. My hands shook, and I hated it. I had never been afraid of my powers. Even when I was still with my parents and they were afraid, and I still couldn’t totally control it, I knew I would never hurt anyone with it. It wasn’t like a weapon I possessed. It was my aura. It was a part of me and a part of everyone. I wasn’t creating anything out of thin air, I was using what already existed.

“I really don’t feel comfortable at all, Loki.” I couldn’t bring myself to do anything with my powers. It suddenly hurt to look at the auras that surrounded me. I wanted to crawl back in bed.

“Alright. New approach,” Loki announced, rubbing his hands together, evil villain style. He looked around at the gym. “It’s a bit tight in here, isn’t it?”

I shrugged and nodded, but Loki didn’t even look at me for a response. His aura dashed to his fingers, swirling around his palm as he raised his arm. Slowly, he moved his arm, rotating his body around the room, and as he did, the entire location changed. We were suddenly in an open, grassy field. I looked at Loki, confused.

“Where-”

“It’s actually quite hard to explain, but you won’t hurt anyone here,” Loki answered, looking around at the open field, breathing in the fresh air.

“I could hurt you,” I pointed out.

“You won’t,” he replied, not a care in the world. “Now, let’s figure this out.”

He helped me get comfortable again. He let me lift him up, talked me through relearning illusions, flying, picking up inanimate objects.

“You feel better?” Loki asked as i guided myself back down.

“Yeah,” I replied, breathing hard. I had tried to do tricks in the air.

“You really need to better your stamina,” Loki observed.

I reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, I know,” I grumbled. “I’m using my energy, though. I can’t just… make more.”

Loki picked up a finger. “Ah, which reminds me. Do you have any idea how you created that… pulse? If that was all your own power, you should have passed out or-”

“No, I should have died,” I corrected him. Loki fell silent, but I didn’t let the air stay quiet for long. “I think I used the energy from the electric rope around me? Or just from the auras around me… I’m not really sure. It was a blur.”

Loki nodded along, thinking. “I have an idea.”

“I’m not doing that again,” I said, stopping any plan he was forming.

“You need to know how to control it and how to do it,” he told me while I shook my head vigorously. “It could be very useful.”

“No, Loki. If something goes wrong I don’t know what could happen.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I might!” I barked. “Once again, I don’t know-”

“I can protect myself.” Loki’s voice felt like he was putting a spell on me. So firm and confident but also soothing and gentle.

“You haven’t in the past,” I argued, thinking back to the two times I launched him across a room with barely any effort.

Loki tilted his head with a smirk. “You think I would let you push me over that many times and not figure out how to defend myself? Don’t forget our first lesson.”

“How could I ever?” I said dryly, shaking my head. “You only bring it up every five seconds.”

“Trust me,” Loki said, tilting his head down, forcing me to look in his eyes. “It’s better for you to do this.”

I bit the inside of my lip and looked around that the open, harmless area. “Fine!” I gave in. “Okay. Fine. Let’s do this. What’s your… stupid idea.”

Loki let out a laugh. “Alright. I’ll summon as much magic as I can. I’m not completely sure how the summoning works. Usually I just… do things, but I’ll try, then you use that energy along with some of yours to create the pulse.”

I sighed and nodded.

“But,” Loki continued, remembering something. “Not too much of your own.”

I continued nodding, then shook my arms out, getting ready. “Okay,” I breathed. “Okay, okay, I’m ready.”

Loki gave a short nod and shut his eyes. I watched him more intently than I every had. His aura became a deep green and flowed around him like a current. It was beautiful. I snapped out of it before I became to dazed and focused his energy the best I could. I felt awake again, like I had during the mission. Loki summoned so much power, it was almost more than what I had felt before. I shut my eyes, quickly becoming overwhelmed. What I previously had thought was just a second wind, I knew now was just pure energy. Pure aura. Whether it was Loki’s natural aura, his magical aura, or my own aura, I had it all. I felt a rush, then a familiar ringing in my ears that meant it was over.

My eyes stayed shut longer than they really needed to, but I almost never wanted to open them again. I was scared of what I might see. When I finally managed to open my eyes, I wasn’t too surprised. The grassy field was now mainly dirt and upturned plants. I whipped around, trying to find Loki, but he wasn’t where he had been.

“Loki,” I said, almost growling. He had promised I wouldn’t hurt him. He had told me he would be fine. If he even had a scratch, I was going to kill him. “Loki?” I called, louder this time.

“Here.” I heard a gravelly voice call from behind a small hill that used to be covered in grass. I ran over to the voice despite my legs being jelly. I jumped to the bottom of the small hill and found Loki there, on his back, face covered in dirt.

“You said you wouldn't get hurt!” I screamed, angrier than I had ever been. “Fuck, Loki, you said!”

“I’m fine!” He assured me, trying to sound confident but it failed when he grimaced slightly as he sat up. I fell to his side, conflicted between being concerned or furious. “I’m really fine. It happened more suddenly that I thought it would, so I was just a bit late in deploying my shield.”

“I swear to god, Loki, I’m so pissed right now I just-” I growled through clenched teeth. Loki laughed and put his hand on my arm. I glared at him in response.

“That was impressive,” he said, looking at me in admiration.

“Thanks,” I muttered in response. “I don’t like doing it.”

“But now you know how. It could be-”

“Very useful, I know.”

Loki nodded and looked down, then back at me. “No one is going to force you to use it. We don’t have to tell the others about this.”

I licked my lips. “I’d rather not.”

Loki and I looked at each other in understanding and in… something else that I couldn’t pinpoint.

“You have so much dirt on your face,” I said with a small smile. Loki only kept staring at me, one eyebrow ever so slightly cocked, as if I hadn’t said anything. I cleared my throat. “Hello? Earth to Loki?” I waved a hand in front of him, snapping him out of whatever trance he had been in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Shall we return?”

I nodded, eyebrows furrowed, and he put us back in the gym within seconds. Loki’s aura was still fairly active as we stood up, and mine was as well, despite having recovered from my aura pulse. But it was strange because I didn’t feel energetic or frantic or overwhelmed like when I was about to release the pulse.

I suddenly reached my arm out and grabbed Loki’s sleeve, forcing him to look at my distraught facial expression. “Oh my god,” I said, heart racing. “I forgot my sausage biscuits in the microwave.”

Another A/N: Okay wait wouldn’t “Pulse” be a cool superhero name for aura reader? Maybe that’s just me? Idk I feel like that’s pretty damn cool.

TAGGED:

@sarahivi @ilvermornyqueen @gladerb5 @tbetz0341 @1800-fight-me @nowitsyourturntocry @lokilover2000 @emergenciesstory @savemealoevera @frostymoon11 @stayfrosty-royalsunshine @scarred-neptinite @phonegalhelp @cruisingheightswithdragons @lusty-loki @ourdeliciousfoxcollector

#loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki x aura reader #aura reader #aura!reader #loki x aura!reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfcition

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ben-j-man · 6 years

Text

Secret War: Chapter 21

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

I was wrong, Garrakson's Autocannon hadn't pinned them, they'd just fallen back. The four-metre wide corridor was ablaze with the blinding blaze and the defining sound of shooting. Dozens of Edracian's mooks had laid in wait behind sandbag walls for our advancing forces. Not just that but further down were two Heavy stubber emplacements, laying down a constant barrage that should've left us completely and utterly pinned. But like lightning I dashed through It all, weaving side to side with a speed and agility I'd no idea I was capable of and fell upon five of Edracian's mercs as they cowered behind one of the sandbag walls.

Two were dead before they realised I was there, the first I decapitated, the activated edge of my powersword cutting through his neck with ease, the second I impaled, kicked him off the blade and smashing into his comrade behind him. The fourth took a swing at me with the butt of his rifle, but he seemed to move in slow motion, and I effortlessly weaved underneath it, then cut his torso in two with a backhanded blow. The fifth tried to raise his rifle to shoot me, but before I could even blink my body moved and I was abruptly behind him, and he was cleaved in twain. The third, I hauled to his feet, just in time to use as a human shield as his comrades further down the corridor tried to shoot me. His body was torn to pieces in a few seconds by the concentrated fire, but it mattered little as I was safe behind the sandbags well before that.

Arlathan, Torris, Arlathan and Garrakson used this opportunity to advance, joining up with me. Arlathan and Torris fired their shotguns from the hip as they ran.

"What the bloody hell was that?" demanded Torris over the din.

"What?" I asked.

"You, just running forward through that hell without telling us anything!" he roared. "You suicidal or something?"

I shrugged, I wasn't suicidal; I just knew deep down that I could make it, that my newfound speed and agility would get me through it all.

Torris sighed, shook his head and blasted over the wall, "well good work I guess, just tell us next time, kid. It'd be appreciated, thanks!"

I cut my reply short as I saw more figures emerged from around the corner we'd came from, ten metres down the corridor, their weapons raised. Before any thought I was moving, power sword activated.

"Attelus stand down!" came a yell over my vox link. "We're on your side!"

I stopped. "Olinthre!" I spat the name then dived for cover as they opened fire.

Twelve more guns joined in with Torris and Arlathan's as the mercs advanced past me.

I vaulted over the sandbags, twisting to shoot blindly over the lip in an attempt to provide cover fire for the mercs.

The Olinthre-thing joined me, while he fired bursts of his auto gun.

"Good work at blowing the wall!" It yelled.

I didn't reply, just clenched my jaw and gave it a glare.

It shrugged and smiled, "well I guess we can't always get what we want, right?"

As if by its own volition, suddenly my hand shot out and clutched it by the throat, slamming it against the sandbags.

"You made the timers five seconds instead of ten," I growled. "I'm lucky that Garrakson looked at it or I might be dead right now."

It smiled, grabbed my wrist and tore my hand away, "yeah I did, I did the same for the others as well. I don't know what happened, exactly but I guessed you betrayed Glaitis, and I bet they did too."

I glared at It and shook my head, "I don't get it, why do you care so much? You didn't seem to care before."

"Because I've thought it over and I think I owe her," It said. "If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be what I am today."

I looked it in the violet eyes, "really? And what you are today? Did you want this? You truly wanted to be this? You owe her nothing! Nothing at all!"

I didn't wait for its reply; its gaping wide-eyed look was enough. I vaulted over the wall and sprinted like mad, weaving through the fury and the fire to join back up with Torris, and the others.

"Emperor damn it!" snarled Garrakson as he jumped in fright at my sudden appearance. "How the frig can you move like that? You're like one of those damn Eldars!"

I clenched my jaw and said nothing.

"And Emperor damn it!" Garrakson said again. "If you'd let me use my damn Autocannon we wouldn't be like this!"

My eyes narrowed, "we can't risk you using any more ammo, Jeurat! We don't know what we'll encounter the deeper we go! You've only got, what? A hundred rounds or so left?"

"More daemons!" yelled Torris. "It'll most definitely be more daemons!"

I was up then, firing my shotgun, trying to draw a bead through the chaos on an enemy, any enemy, but just like the ambushers in the alley, they hugged their cover way too well, and I was never the best at ranged combat.

With a smug smile, I pulled out one of my four frag grenades.

Garrakson gave me a tired look, "y'know doing that, kid. Might give 'em ideas."

I shrugged, thinking there was no point in hiding my new found enhanced strength anymore, pulled the pin and with a grunt, threw it. The grenade flew, it flew a good forty-five metres and landed almost in the lap of the merc manning one of the Heavy Stubbers. The explosion and the man's scream I could barely hear over the din of battle.

All three of my acquaintances had seen it and gaped at me with wide eyes.

"When the hell did you get that strong?" said Torris.

I shrugged, "don't know! About the same time, I could move this fast!"

"Wait! What?" Torris was in the midst of shouting as I was up and moving, lunging over another sandbag wall and in my descent, kicking one of the three defenders in the face, throwing him flying back. His features now a bloody, ugly ruin. The second twisted with impressive speed, rifle raised to fire. Only so my sword could slice through it, then impale his face. The last threw himself back just out of range of my next slash and drew a laspistol from its holster. My instincts somehow knew the exact second he'd pull the trigger, and my body weaved, feeling the laser kiss my cheek, and I smelt it as it fried some of my hair, then I slipped in, so fast he couldn't get another, then my powersword sliced him two.

Next thing I knew, I bounded behind the sandbags before the rest could shoot me, their fire tearing into the sandbags a mere millisecond after I was in safety

I frowned and looked at my hands, was this new ability just from my, Wraithbone bones? I'd heard from Glaitis of assassins who could move like this. Highly experienced, trained and skilled far beyond normal human parameters. The elite assassins of the Officio Assassinorum were the first which came to mind.

A sigh suddenly filtered through my thoughts making me jump in fright.

+Again I did that, Mon'keigh. I didn't just enhance your bone structure but brought you to a physical peek that would normally be almost impossible for your slow, clumsy kind ever to attain. You with your genetic lineage may have been able to reach it, through years more of training but I fast forwarded you through it, saving you the time and effort.+

"Why?"

+Is that not obvious? Even for you with your simple, slow mind? That is because I need you at your best to be in proper service to me, you are lucky I care so much. Now shut up, you have a battle to fight, oh and watch your left.+

I turned just in time to see the soldier sneaking up on me, his knife already in the midst of swinging at my skull.

I leaned back, so it sliced slightly through my nose instead then sidestepped his stab. The range was terrible for my powersword effectively so instead I elbowed him in the face, it connected with a crunch, and he screamed, blood spraying from his nose like a geyser.

"Nose for a nose you son of a bitch!" I snarled, and my front kick caused him to stumble further back, allowing Torris a clear shot, the round blowing through his torso and sent his limp corpse smashing hard against the sandbag wall.

I smiled as Torris, Garrakson and Arlathan joined me.

"Why would he try to take me in close quarters?" I asked.

Torris shrugged, "outta ammo, maybe? He almost had you, though. You were very deep in la-la land there for a second or two. I would've warned you, but it all happened way too fast for me. And what did I tell you about running forward all on your lonesome without telling us, again?"

"I did tell you," I said.

The corner of his mouth twitched, "well, yeah, but not very well."

"Alright! Enough of the damned talky!" roared Arlathan as he fired. "and more damned fighty!"

And for once I agreed with him.

The explosion sent the large double doors flying off their hinges and falling into the enormous old dining room beyond.

We were ready for the inevitable counter, hugging the cover of the sandbags as the mercs fired through the kicked up smoke.

There were fifty of us, mostly made up of Taryst's mercs. There were more before, but we'd lost over two dozen men overwhelming the well-entrenched enemy in this corridor alone. I couldn't help wonder how many more were going to die attacking this place.

For what felt like forever we waited for a lull in the storm, when it finally came that's when Garrakson opened fire with the remaining working heavy stubber along with the rest of us.

The enemy had set up their defences well; they'd turned over the long, thick dining tables for makeshift protection and reinforced them further with more damned sandbags, which made me wonder how the hell on a hive world like this did they get so much sand? Was it rockcrete sand? Or...?

I smiled and shook away the thought, now was the worst time to get hung up on such details.

Fighting the urge to flinch from every sight and sound, through the utter chaos I did a very quick, very rough headcount. There were two balconies situated along each length of the room, gunfire rained down from them, but they were too elevated for me to make out anything of importance and on the floor were three makeshift walls four metres separating each.

"I count approximately twenty-five on the floor!" I shouted. "Nine behind the first, eight behind the last two!"

"Twenty three now!" roared Garrakson as he cut down two with a withering hail of fire and I treated him to an equally withering look, which he ignored entirely.

"What about on the decks?" asked Arlathan.

I just pursed my lips and shrugged, wondering why he thought I'd know.

"If we give you covering fire, you think you can get onto one of them?" yelled Torris as he fired a flurry of shotgun shells.

I smiled, "you were all upset about me running off by myself but now asking me to suicidally climb up there?"

Torris shrugged, "I only get upset when you do it without telling us about it! We can't help you if you don't! Your teamwork skills kinda suck!"

I clenched my jaw, wanting to point out how Castella and had worked together well against the daemons earlier and remind him of how Elandria and I used to team up all the time.

I frowned, and my gaze fell to the floor at the thought of Elandria.

"Kid! I wouldn't ask you this if I didn't think you could do it!" he yelled, taking me from my reverie.

With a sigh I looked over the sandbags again, the balconies were a good two and a half metres off the floor, and both ascending staircases situated at the other end of the room. Three, half metre wide, dark wood pillars held them aloft, but I could tell they were only there for decoration. Taking them out wouldn't collapse them at all, which was my initial hope.

I slipped back into safety and shook my head.

Torris gritted his teeth and growled with incoherent rage.

Just then we heard Garrakson cry out and throw himself to the floor as his heavy stubber was abruptly torn apart by concentrated fire.

"We've gotta do something about the enemy on those damn verandahs!" snarled Torris. "Even if we take care of the ones on the floor, we try to advance we'll be caught in a damn crossfire! From enemies on an elevated position no less!"

Garrakson climbed to his knees, brushing himself off as though he'd just had dust thrown on him, instead of potentially deadly, jagged shards of shrapnel.

"Well why don't we have Mr little freaky speedy here just run through them, to the other side of the room and climb up the stairs, while we lay down cover fire," he said.

I sighed and placed my hand on my face, why did all these plans involve me rushing forward through gunfire. I guess it was my own frigging fault for showing off so much before.

"Could actually work," said Torris.

"Only if we can bloody coordinate properly," said Arlathan.

"Or if I could use my bloody autocannon," said Garrakson, as he not to subtly glared at me.

I sighed and glanced back at the other mercs taking cover behind the sandbags further down the corridor; pinned down, just as we were, I wasn't going to get any cover fire from them, sure as sure.

With a frustrated growl, I turned to Garrakson and mumbled something.

"What?" yelled Garrakson, but I could see him smiling slightly.

"I said, damn it! You get it your way!" I bellowed through clenched teeth. "Use the frigging autocannon!"

Garrakson's face lit up like a child who'd just been told all his birthdays had been rolled into one.

"Alright!" he said rubbing his hands together eagerly, then began gathering up the oversized bullet hose. "You ready kid?"

I swallowed and only nodded nervously.

"Be aware, kid I'll only be able to pin the bastards on the floor. The ones up there on the balconies, not so much!"

"Torris and me could throw some grenades," suggested Arlathan. "We could try to get them onto those balconies!"

I looked at him, eyes wide with surprise, glanced at the room beyond, seeing just how high and how bad the angle was, then back to him.

"But you'll have to expose yourself to do it," I said.

Arlathan frowned and furrowed his brow, "why are you so worried? You've got to run through that hell!"

I turned to Torris who shrugged and said, "I agree, kid. It's an idea. I'm willing to give it a go."

I nodded and glanced at Arlathan still surprised he'd risk himself so. Whatever had happened to him during his unconsciousness must've changed him somehow.

My eyes narrowed, as another thought hit me, perhaps I wasn't the one Brutis should be worried about.

"We ready?" asked Garrakson eagerly.

"Yeah, we are," I said as I tossed Torris and Arlathan a grenade each. "Jeurat, blaze away."

"With pleasure!" he beamed, climbed to his feet and began firing over the sandbags, ignoring the countless munitions flying his way.

"Wish me..!" I yelled but stopped as simultaneously both Torris and Arlathan were standing and throwing their grenades.

I didn't wait to watch where they went as I was up and sprinting into the room, knowing that Garrakson with all his skill would miss me.

Everywhere, I saw the devastation wrought by Garrakson's autocannon as it tore through everything, punching holes through the sandbags and turned over tables as though they were made of paper. I saw at least five defenders torn apart as they cowered behind the first wall. Inwardly, I cursed that we'd been forced into using it so damn early in the peace, but desperate times, I guess.

It must've taken me less than a second or two to sprint to the first wall, but it felt like forever it was even more intense than the siege outside than even in the close confines of the corridors.

Just as I vaulted over the first wall, the grenades Torris and Arlathan had thrown went off. I heard no screams, no nothing; I couldn't even tell if they'd been thrown right, but I had no time to dwell on that.

I just had to have "faith" in my friends they'd done it right. Well, the definition of "faith" meant belief without evidence. I didn't have "faith" in Torris he'd proved time and again that he was skilled and highly competent. It was bloody Arlathan I had to put faith in, and I didn't like that.

The defenders behind the first wall were already dead and the ones behind the second and third were pinned down by Garrakson's fire.

I could see in my peripheral vision and somewhat feel the gunfire from above, and my heart sank as I realised that it was a frigging crap ton of them and most of them automatic.

Despite this I didn't break my stride, I just kept sprinting forward hoping my insane speed would outdo them.

As I ran, an idea hit me, and with quick hands, I took out my last grenade, pulled the pin just before lunging over the wall and in mid-air, dropped it amongst the five defenders as they gaped up at me in shock and awe.

I bounded onwards as it exploded, covering my ears so barely heard the screams of the defenders as they died.

The defenders behind the last wall started to peer over it, so in the blink of an eye, I drew my auto pistol, firing with utterly no accuracy in the hope to pin them back in place, unloading the entire clip faster than I thought possible. Much to my relief, it worked and with no time to reload; I vaulted over the wall, pistol-whipping one over the skull in flight.

I landed and drew my sword, simultaneously roundhouse kicking one in the face as he turned to attack me. The other three, still crouched raised their guns to shoot but before they could even think, I'd dashed forward, right into their midst, so their shots only cut through the empty air. One on my left, two on my right

My powersword sliced through the torso of my left side attacker and I slid into a sidekick that connected the first right's sternum with a crack somehow audible over the chaos, and he was thrown onto his back so fast, and so hard, I could've sworn it broke his spine. The last had backed up about a metre and showered a frenzied point-blank, full auto burst that I barely managed to weave out the way of. But in his panic, he'd stood, exposing himself and my with allies no longer pinned, so a tidy shot from Emperor only knew who took off the top of his head. Which was lucky, I was pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to dodge anymore.

Next thing I knew I'd retrieved one of the Auto guns off the floor and was moving, sprinting up the left side staircase, laying down a barrage of automatic fire that caused the merc guarding them to him throw himself out of its path.

Then I was at the top, smashing the butt of the rifle hard into his throat, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and utilised the poor bastard as yet another human shield, allowing me a second or two to take in my surroundings as he got shot to hell.

I saw four smaller sandbag walls only two metres in length and three apart, four mercs were behind each wall, except the furthest, they were already dead. I dropped my borrowed autogun, took my new shield's one and over his writhing shoulder, sprayed a wild flurry that was so inaccurate, no one bothered to duck for cover, and soon I found my human shield torn from my grasp.

With a desperate roar, I dashed forward, firing the last of the autogun's clip from the hip in a spray not much more accurate than the previous but somehow still caused them to duck.

I vaulted over the first wall, my power sword relieving two mercs of their heads before I Ianded and sprinted on, their fire missing me entirely in spite of such short range, my insane bravado and inhuman speed taking them off their game.

I reached the next wall in a split second, only now were the men behind it getting up. So instead of vaulting over, I slid to the side and around their wall, my reloaded pistol drawn and firing. I fired six shots four for the mercs in front me two for the remaining two at the first wall before; then I bound back behind the safety of the second sandbag wall.

There, despite the tiredness and exhaustion that was starting to wear on me, I threw back my head and laughed. I laughed at the insanity of it all, of how I could do all this. Was I even really human anymore? What other transformations had the Farseer wrought on me? I guess I had to wait and see.

I was tired of it already, scared I'd pushed my luck too much and wished not to move even an inch as the remaining four mercs fired my way.

I looked to the other balcony, seeing that they were more concerned with exchanging fire with my colleagues as they advanced into the dining hall than trying to kill me, thank goodness.

As I clenched my teeth, I tried to glance around the wall but was quickly forced to flinch back from the shots whizzing my way, and I cursed savagely, wishing I hadn't used all my damn frags.

Then an idea hit me; I still had grenades just of the "krak" variety, didn't know why I'd just grabbed six frags instead, but oh well.

With quick hands, I opened my flak jacket and pulled one out, not even bothering to pull the pin, stood and threw it as accurately as I could before throwing myself to the floor.

"Grenade!" I heard the yell and needed no more prompting before I was up again with pistol raised. All four had scattered two moving left, two right. In a rush I opened fire, my first two shots went wild, but my third winged one on the right and my fourth blew a bloody hole through the bicep of his mate behind him.

Before I could draw a proper bead on the left two, they'd already realised my ploy, and their withering fire caused me to duck behind cover again.

Perhaps I should've pulled the pin it may've been a krak, but it still could've frigged them up a bit. Once more I glanced at the other balcony and down into the dining room below. I could see we'd lost at least three more men down there while they hadn't lost any. I would've liked to shoot at them, but I had enough attention on me already, didn't want anymore. At least I'd diminished the casualties a bit by risking my arse to get up here.

I breathed deeply and took out my mirror from its pocket in my flak jacket and raised it on an angle to allow me to see the muzzle flares of my enemies.

One was left, the other right, they were advancing, trying to flank me. It was hard to tell this just from listening alone as there were so many munitions exchanged in here I couldn't tell high from low.

With another deep breath, I was up again and shooting at the right one. My first shot missed the merc but my second hit him in the stomach, the manstopper round blew through his flak armour and with a pained cry he reeled limply and fell onto his back.

I switched my aim to the second, just as his auto gun pointed at me.

In that split second, I realised he had me and I dived to the floor, throwing myself to the other side of the wall, just before his full auto flurry cut through the air where I'd stood.

Then I shot him through the skull.

I lay there for what felt like an age, eyes wide and gasping for air, not daring to move, not even daring to blink as the battle raged. Emperor that was insane! And close, so frigging close! I barely noticed when the fire finally died and was in the midst of climbing to my feet when Garrakson, Torris and Arlathan appeared at the top of the stairs. Garrakson now carried a Lasgun.

"You alright, kid?" asked Torris as he approached and helped me to my feet.

"Yeah," I sighed, shaking my head to try to regain my composure, all the shit that I've been through over the last day must've been really wearing on me, not just physically but mentally as well. "You run out of ammo, Garrakson?"

"Yeah," he said with a guilty grin as he scratched the back of his shaved head. "Sorry about that."

"How many lost?" I breathed through clenched teeth.

"Sixteen dead," said Arlathan. "Three wounded, but I'm sure we would've lost more if you hadn't run the gauntlet, shit you're insane."

I gaped at him, unsure what to make of that...compliment? But despite myself, I felt a smile cross my face.

"Please, Arlathan, tell me something I don't know," I said.

"What? That you're a complete screw head?"

"No, both."

Arlathan shrugged and shook his head.

The Olinthre-thing with a few other soldiers arrived at the top of the stairs, "yeah, yeah stop the dilly dally, no time to waste we have a building to capture. Oh and next time you decide to pull a stunt like that, tell me beforehand. I am y'know, your commanding officer."

Torris and Garrakson turned to face It, but it was hard to miss the hatred in Garrakson's eyes.

"I..." started the ex-guardsman.

"Sorry, sir," Torris quickly interrupted. "We've just been working independently for so long it's easy to forget, right, Jeurat?"

"Right," Garrakson growled, hesitantly.

The Olinthre-thing smiled and looked at me, "yeah right, whatever. Just don't do it again. Now move your arses, Let's go!"

It turned and began to descend the stairs, waving us after It. It was really enjoying this command shtick.

I grinned as we followed it's wake, "well, enjoy it while it lasts," I hissed under my breath. "It isn't going to last much longer."

For a long time, we moved through the maze of corridors kicking in a door after door, clearing out any enemy within. Thanks to Arlathan's auspex we were able to tell where they were, but at my insistence, we checked every room even the ones lacking heat signatures, just in case. It was slow going, gritty and tedious work but it needed doing. We cleared out a total of thirty rooms twenty of which had enemies, killing at least thirty enemy mercs who'd attempted to fortify themselves within. We lost about twenty more of our own in the process, twelve of which were injured, three fatally Luckily for us there seemed to be a constant flow of reinforcements to replace the men we'd lose. The rooms without signatures were all empty of course, but I just had to be sure.

Most of the time I listened into the comm chatter of our other forces, keeping the others updated on their progress. Casualties were mounting, well into the hundreds now. Brutis Bones' force had it the worst, they were made up of the less well-trained Hammers, and it seemed his side had the highest concentration of enemy numbers. Ours was doing the best much to my surprise, we were advancing the fastest and of the four forces, suffered the least. I also kept track of Hayden, Darrance and Castella's activities; unsurprisingly they were on the front lines each performing admirably, killing countless and preventing numerous casualties single-handedly.

I just hoped they'd get through it. But what really bugged me was; why were we doing the best? Was it because we were facing the least numbers? That was the only reason I could comprehend, which was interesting, very interesting indeed. Yes.

The Olinthre thing didn't seem to mind this fact, though. It just choked it up to us being the best, but I doubted that.

Finally, we arrived at the end of the corridors to a pair of large, ornate doors, that according to the schemata led into a large ballroom beyond.

"Arlathan?" said the Mimic as we lined up at the wall, there were sixty of us total now. "What we got?"

Arlathan cursed as he fiddled with the auspex, "nothing! Can't pick up anything! It's like the dining room back there!"

I nodded, for the more essential areas the enemy had a way to block out our scanners that or there was no one in there, but I doubted that. Quickly, I echoed this find to the other forces through my vox link.

'Olinthre' sighed and turned to me, "what about your psyker girlfriend? She able to help us?"

I shrugged, "I haven't heard from Karmen since I was scouting outside. I don't know even if she's alright or not. She's probably still locked in an invisible war with whoever that psyker was she'd mentioned before."

It cursed colourfully, "we got flashbangs?"

Three of the nearest mercs nodded and pulled out one each from pouches on their belts.

"Good! Now we've got a plan!" It exclaimed and then it turned to me. "Attelus Kaltos, would you kindly cut a hole..."

"What? Through the doors?" I interrupted.

It gave off no outward sign of emotion, but it's next sentence blatantly sounded like it was through clenched teeth, "no, through the wall, there!"

It pointed to a part of the wall about two metres left of the doors, "you said earlier that your powersword could cut through the wall, right?"

"Uhh, yeah," I said dumbly, quickly seeing the genius behind the Mimic's plan.

"Well then cut a hole that'll allow them to throw their grenades through!" It snapped impatiently. "Hurry!"

I nodded and approached the part of the wall indicated, activating my power sword in a blaze of blues as the three mercs followed.

"Garrakson! Torris!" snapped the Mimic, "get ready to take out the doors on my signal!"

With surprising obedience, both of them nodded and set themselves on each side of the door.

I exchanged glances with the three mercs, then clenched my teeth and with four quickfire slashes cut a hole just large enough for one person to fit through.

The enemy fire was almost immediate, but that didn't stop them from blindingly throwing their grenades through.

The Olinthre-thing then lifted its hand with three fingers raised and one by one It lowered them then pointed to the door.

Torris nodded grimly and with one shotgun shell, blew out the lock allowing Garrakson to kick them open and with Las gun raised he, Torris and five other mercs advanced inside, firing.

The Mimic turned to me, pointed to the mercs and waved us through my makeshift entrance.

I nodded and immediately two of them fired their auto guns on full auto through it, pinning fire. Then with shotgun raised, I slipped inside, weaving quickly leftward, toward the nearest pillar. There were seven thick, pillars which held up the big balcony overhead, the two closest were about six metres from the door, and two dead men lay in pools of blood just behind them. I could see the enemy had turned over tables and reinforced them with more sandbags, all set in between the farthest four pillars, which were another good seven metres away. I could just make out the twelve mercs cowering behind the middle two barriers, six behind each. All of them still reeling from the flashbangs and Garrakson, Torris and the others were advancing, as they exchanged fire with enemies further into the huge room.

I pressed my back against the pillar, trying to get a better assessment of the situation. The room was huge, easily one of the largest of this infernal mansion-fortress, the balcony above must've been at least three stories off the floor and who knew how high the ceiling itself went.

Amazingly ornate, golden chandeliers hung every few metres (much to my annoyance none were situated anywhere near the enemy fortifications) And the walls and floors were polished white and silver marble, lined with silver and gold.

It was all in surprisingly good condition, emphasis on 'was' as now it was pockmarked, torn through by the countless munitions being exchanged.

Two small staircases were set after the enemy fortifications about leading two metres upward, there were handrails, but they were already being shot to shit by Garrakson and his men.

I watched as they converged on the just recovering mercs and couldn't help wince as they brutally executed them with point-blank fire.

The rest of our force was now advancing into the room taking up cover behind the barriers and pillars. I had to admit, the Mimic's plan had worked extraordinarily well. Perhaps It was worth leaving alive after all.

With the three from before, I moved up as well, pushing my back against the furthest left pillar, gaining a better view into the place. I could see the huge staircase leading to the balcony above now and the further three fortifications at its base. Nine enemies took cover behind them, three behind each. Six more were on the balcony, raining fire down on us with their excellent angle and elevated position. The sound was deafening as it echoed through the huge, cavernous room and even the barriers were little protection as six of us were quickly cut down, and the rest were forced onto their bellies, pinned. Only those of us behind the pillars were immune, still pinned but we were safer.

I clenched my jaw and sighed, glancing around the left side of my pillar as I struggled to think of a plan. I saw that the two-metre tall wall extended to each width of the room that another pillar sat atop it. I could climb the wall easily but beyond that may be a wall of fire that not even I could sprint through. I also suspected there were more mercs on the balcony above, waiting for us to advance to catch us in a crossfire. I glanced up seeing the balcony finished just near the staircases but extended about five metres more beyond on my side.

"What do you think we should do?" asked one the mercs, his expression hidden behind his helm, but his voice sounded dishearteningly young.

I shrugged, "I really can't see how we can get through this without losing many more of us! This place has been designed to be defended, and our enemy know how to defend it, damn it!"

"You could try to run through it like you did before!" said another.

I growled and glanced around again, "I think I've tried my luck enough for today!" I exclaimed. "Hell! I'd say I'd tried my luck enough for a frigging lifetime! Besides! I'm pretty sure they've got more men on the balcony above us, and the only reason why I've done so well is because they've only shot from the front or the sides! Not from all around!"

The plan was for all of us to converge on this room, most of the paths on the ground floor like a labyrinth led to this ballroom, which was effectively in the epicentre of the huge building. On the balcony, just over my head was the entrance to a large circular staircase which climbed up through the remaining seven stories, zig-zagging to the main chambers on the top floor and where we thought Edracian might be.

There were a few elevators scattered throughout the building, but we'd found them shut down by the defenders before we got here.

That thought sent a shiver up my spine, what if the enemy reactivate them, then use them to flank us? As I thought this I remembered that there were more of us advancing and securing the building in our wake. I clenched my jaw; I saw there was nothing we could do, not now anyway.

I sighed and turned to the three mercs, "I don't see any other way to get around this than wait for the rest of the force then rush them; there's nothing we can do."

"Yeah, thought as much," said the third merc

I cursed savagely and activated my comm link to the 'general' channel, "this is Attelus Kaltos of the western advance force! We've made it to the ballroom but meeting heavy resistance! I repeat heavy resistance! We're pinned down!"

As though to emphasise my point, a merc only about a metre way took a bullet in the neck, exploding the poor bastard's throat in a shower of blood and he fell, clutching at his neck, despite the cacophony, I could still hear him gurgle as he spasmed and struggled for breath

"We need reinforcements, now!" I snarled.

"Acknowledged, Attelus," said Wesley over the vox. "We are on our way, meeting heavy resistance ourselves! Will be there in approximately five to ten minutes!"

I clenched my teeth, wanting to swear back profusely, but held my tongue and said instead. "Yeah got you, over and out!"

"Nothing?" asked the first merc.

"Yeah nothing," then an idea hit me, and I turned to Garrakson.

"Jeurat! I need the schemata data slate, now!" I bellowed.

Garrakson didn't need any more prompting as he lay on the floor, behind the sandbags and he slid it over to me.

I snatched it up and began looking over it, my plan was risky and more than a little bit insane but it might work, and any plan was better than where we were now. Quickly, I found what I was looking for, the perfect place and switched my vox link's channel.

"Major!" I snapped over the vox, seeing Olinthre behind the furthest pillar glance my way.

"Yeah? What?" it said.

"I've gotta plan! I'm gonna need at least ten men and a shit ton of frag grenades and a distraction! Can you acquiesce?"

"What are you scheming this time, apprentice?"

"What I'm scheming?" I said with a smile despite myself. "No this was all your idea; I'm just refining it a bit."

"Okay, sure tell me what it is you've got."

I told 'Olinthre' my plan, needless to say; it made it quite happy. The bastard.

I finished the last enemy by embedding my throwing knife through his visor and firing flurries wildly; he fell to the floor. Just my frigging luck that the room I'd decided on using just had to have frigging enemies holed up in it.

"Nice throw," said one of the mercs, "I'd say you are better at throwing them than shooting a gun, but that's not saying much."

Many of the nine others sniggered heartily at that.

I shrugged, "well, none of us is perfect," I said and approached the left side wall, placing my ear against it. I could hear nothing of the firefight on the other side, which didn't bode well.

I clenched my jaw.

"So how are we going to play this one out?" said the same merc. "You use that fancy power sword to cut us an opening, and we'll rush in just to get mercilessly cut down?"

"Yeah pretty much," I muttered. "but without the 'mercilessly cut down' part, hopefully. That's what we got all those grenades for."

"Has anyone ever told you, you're insane?" said another.

I smiled, "yes, many times, actually. Even once very recently."

The merc sighed.

"Alright!" I yelled, pulling out the bandoleer of grenades, "take one each!"

"There's, thirteen here," said one.

"Yeah three for me," I said, then pointed to the wall. "I'm gonna cut through there! I need five of you on each side."

They shared glances that looked confused even with their expressions hidden.

"Uhh okay," said one hesitantly.

I sighed, really wishing Garrakson or Torris had come as well, "look! The more time we waste, the more chance more of our comrades are going to die! Once I cut open the entrance, I need each of you, one by one, to throw your grenades at the enemies behind the sandbag walls on the floor, they'll be right in front of us. After that, just provide cover fire for me., I'll need you to pin down the hostiles on both left and right side balconies so I can advance."

"What are you going to do with that cover fire?" asked another.

I swallowed, realising how dumb it was going to sound, "I'm going to try throw a grenade onto each balcony, hopefully killing a few, allowing us to advance a little easier."

They exchanged glances.

"You're right, Huarit, he is insane," said one.

"Yes, completely," agreed another.

I bristled, "just trust me!"

"Those balconies must be at least three stories up," said another. "you really think you can throw that far? And that accurately? All while moving and not to mention you're gonna have a crap angle."

"Yes," I lied, stone-faced. "After that, then wait for my signal and advance Now are we gonna do this or not?"

The nearest merc shrugged, "yeah. Sure, kid," he said. "You're the one risking your arse in this."

I sighed, typical merc mentality.

"Alright! Get in position!" I yelled and activated my sword with a flourish. "And wish me a shit ton of luck!"

"Luck? Why not ask for the Emperor's blessing?" asked one as he jogged up and leaned against the wall.

Because I don't believe in that bull shit, I thought and with a snarl, thrust my sword into the wall.

It took me a good half a minute to create a two-metre wide entrance, which was longer than I liked. I struggled a bit as the wall was much thicker than the last and despite the powerfield, there was a lot of resistance. I just hoped the enemy was too distracted by the firefight to notice.

Once finally frigging done, I didn't bother to hold back my relieved sigh, and with a roar I spun into a sidekick, knocking the bit of wall over with a large crack and crash!

Immediately I darted into cover as the first two mercs leaned out and threw their grenades. I couldn't see the result nor even hear it over the shooting inside I could only hope to hell it'd work. The first pair slipped back and away from the wall allowing the next to throw theirs, in quick, professional succession they did this while I watched with bated breath, expecting in any second enemy fire to cut one down in mid pin pull or throw, but it never happened much to my relief.

The last one finished his throw, watched it results and turned to me, "the floors cleared, kid. Now there's six on the left balcony and four on the right; all spread out in pairs though! With a good three metre gap between, don't know how good your grenades are gonna be! Can't see how many are over us!"

I nodded, really sweating now, and the tiredness replaced my massive amounts of adrenaline, and I started jumping on the spot, "alright! Get ready to lay me down some cover fire! Anyone wanna swap an auto gun for a shotgun?"

One shrugged, handed me his and two clips of ammo, "yeah sure! Don't know how good it'll do ya!"

"Thanks!" I shouted, "I'll make sure to give it back later! What's your name?"

I asked this even though I'd forget it later.

"Jevven Farnoth!" said the soldier, "and don't worry about giving it back, the shotgun will do fine!"

I nodded again, relieved I didn't need to remember his name, "alright! Open fire in three, two, one!"

Immediately the four at the edges of the makeshift door leaned out and fired their auto guns on fully automatic.

I took out a grenade, pulled the pin and sprinted into the huge, brightly lit ballroom.

It took me all of a second to gain my bearings, but the first throw made me pivot, and with a grunt, I threw it at the balcony overhead, the eastern one so to speak. I didn't have time to see where it went as I turned again, pulled the pin of the second and threw that at the closest pair on the left. Then I sprinted to the right, running on a thirty-degree angle to make myself harder to hit and threw the third at the pair positioned near the top of the stairs than before I knew it I was under the northern balcony, and behind a pillar.

My vox link beeped, "Apprentice!" came Olinthre's voice. "We're advancing! Provide cover fire against the south balcony.

"That was the plan!" I exclaimed, and before It could reply, I cut the link and signalled the soldiers at the breach to move in.

They did and without hesitation, moving along the edge of the room, from pillar to pillar under the comparative safety of the balcony, they advanced, exchanging fire all the while.

I smiled, maybe I'd earned a modicum of respect after all. Then leaned out, spraying sporadic bursts that had no hope in hell to hit anything and surveyed my damage. I could only see four were actively fighting now; perhaps my grenade was on target!

I slipped back and spun to shoot a brief salvo at the enemies on the east balcony.

"I can't believe that actually worked!" said a merc as he and another pressed their backs against the pillar beside me.

Me too, I thought but only shrugged and smiled and fired.

I could see now Garrakson, and the others were advancing, pinning the enemy mercs on the balcony overhead with a constant withering hail.

Despite this I couldn't help but frown, it was working, working a bit too well for my taste.

As if summoned by this thought, I saw them; it happened almost too fast to follow as two zip lines suddenly descended from the balcony behind Garrakson and the others and a pair of lythe figures dropped to the floor. I didn't even have time to activate my microbead before seeing the familiar blue light of power weapons and heard the sound of screams.

"Shit! Frig! Cover me" I roared through clenched teeth and without a further word I was moving, sprinting from cover.

Garrakson and the others reeled as the two figures swathed a whirlwind of a blur of blood and body parts. At least ten were more mercs were mercilessly cut down, but I couldn't tell who. I could only hope that Torris and Garrakson weren't amongst them.

Finally, I got a good view of the attackers, both were female with supple amazing bodies and wore tight, ornate crimson and black bodygloves, and wielded duel power blades. They fought back to back as one. It was beyond beautiful to behold despite them slaughtering my allies. It made me not want to kill them, how could I put an end to such perfection? Such art, such poetry in motion. They also reminded me of Elandria; they fought with a similar style of acrobatic fancy. Brilliant! And they would be my end, of that I had no doubt.

I smiled despite this and only activated my sword's power field in the last second, lunging into a horizontal slash that'd have cut them both through.

As one they cartwheeled back and just out the way, I slid to a stop on the other side, cutting vertically down at the left one. She leapt to the side, spinning through the air with breathtaking grace as the right one thrust her blade at me. I sidestepped it, just and was forced to duck as the left one's horizontal slash blurred for my skull.

I laughed, my blood sang in my veins as I parried the vertical slash of left and weaved under a decapitating cut from right. I sent a swift kick at right as she riposted, which she dodged with a cartwheel and smashed aside another thrust from right. From that, I brought my blade into an overhead strike which she parried with her spare sword. I back peddled right's counter, and tilted my head to the side, out the path of left's stab.

Right suddenly lunged at me, a blur as she slashed horizontally at my torso, simultaneously left cut horizontally at my head, both from opposite directions. I cursed seeing what they were doing but had no choice but to leap back, exactly as they wanted and right attempted to catch me from behind with a backhanded blow.

But I'd leapt back faster and farther than she'd expected so by the time she'd attacked I was already out of its path. The assassin faltered slightly in surprise, but that was all I got as the other one was on me, spinning into a butterfly kick that I ducked. Her forward momentum, allowed her to slip behind me as the other sliced vertically at my skull. I blocked the blow, twisting to bring my blade on top of her's and pushed it into the floor, allowing me to face them both again.

Only in the very last microsecond did I catch right's thrust and I leaned sideward desperately. Cursing in pain as the powerfield skimmed my torso, cutting a horrific gash that made me reel and stumble back.

They gave me no respite, both lunged at the same time, each thrusting with one blade and cutting horizontally with the other.

I leapt to the left and well out the way, but too far too allow me a counter and immediately they darted my way. I snarled in frustration; now they'd found their damn cohesion! I wasn't going to last much longer if I didn't ruin it! Moving faster than I thought possible, I slipped left as they fell on me again, parrying left's thrust and countered by cutting down diagonally at the back of her head as her momentum carried her onward. With gravity-defying grace she somehow leaned out the way and twisted into a kick that smashed into my arm, sending pain coursing through it and me stumbling to keep my feet.

Right was already there, cutting vertically up with her left blade and diagonally with her right. I could see it now, both blows were not quite at the same time and despite the huge risk, lightning fast I parried them, the superior strength and stability of my two-handed grip allowing me to smash them way off course, opening her up for my front kick to connect with her solar plexus in an audible, crunch! Despite the cacophony of gunfire through the hall. She cried out in pain, the first sound I'd heard from them yet and fell to the floor.

I doubted that'd stop her, they were both amped on combat drugs I was sure, but it'd slow her, and their cohesion was now gone.

I'd have thanked the Emperor if I wasn't the one responsible for it.

Left leapt at me, her roundhouse kick aimed at taking my legs out, but I back stepped and flicked my left wrist, ejecting a throwing knife into my hand and threw it point blank at her face.

She tilted her head out the way with an almost contemptuous calm, defying my hope that she'd smash it out of mid-air with her sword so getting a face full of shrapnel for her trouble.

I slipped forward, slicing down at her but her backward cartwheel made me miss.

Right was finally back on her feet and with what seemed to be in a rage, snarled as she thrust at my side.

I back stepped it, cutting at her horizontally but she parried with her spare blade. I ducked left's spinning hook kick, and sidestepped right's downward slash then leapt back from her next cut.

I furrowed my brow, dearly wanting to check on my friends fights going on around but didn't dare. The Assassins paused in their offence and looked at me, tilting their heads curiously. It was then I realised I was grinning, almost from ear to ear and a sharp pain suddenly coursed through my face with this realisation. I was enjoying this, perhaps a bit too much for my liking.

This was one of the few things I was truly good at, sure as sure.

Abruptly I lunged, slashing at left who leapt away, spinning through the air. I parried Right's pair of quick-fire thrusts, then sent a sidekick she dodged with a pirouette. Left dashed forward, slicing high at my head which I weaved under, then she spun into a low cut at my legs that I barely managed to dance away from. She was lucky; I had my boot knife extended.

I cut out at right as she lunged at me, which she barely managed to duck. Despite being distracted by this, she was still able to dart back from my following roundhouse kick. Left's spinning side kick forced me to sidestep, and I blocked her horizontal blow as it blurred at my flank then slid aside of her next thrust. I countered with a diagonal cut which she stopped short with both blades, trying to entrap mine in between, but I kicked out, forcing her to abandon the trap and spin away.

With a growl of frustration, I barely managed to back step Left's spinning hook kick; I could start to feel the adrenaline was waning, the exhaustion, returning. I couldn't keep this up for much longer. Hell, I was surprised I'd lasted even half this long.

However long that was exactly, I could only hazard a guess.

Both lunged at me, left pirouetting into horizontal slashes with both blades. I bounded backwards their powerfields missing my nose by the barest of margins. Right was on me a microsecond later, stabbing with each edge, one after another. I barely managed to parry them and countered with a desperate thrust of my own. Forcing her back, then I pivoted into a slash at Left, she blocked, twisted, forced my blade over her head and down to her right, then cut with her offhand blade, at my skull.

My eyes wide, teeth clenched, I threw myself away, stumbling to keep my feet as the blade missed slightly. The cut on my side was really beginning to hurt now, and I had to fight the urge to clutch at it.

Right reposted, cutting her swords simultaneously, horizontally. I ducked that and wound to the side, turning to face left as she bared down at me. Weakly I parried her thrust, then clumsily backpedalled her diagonal slash. But her roundhouse kick caught me off guard, connecting hard into my wound which sent razor-sharp agony coursing through my entire being and with a cry I fell onto my side, so hard it knocked the wind out of me, and my sword flew from my grasp, clattering away somewhere.

I groaned and began climbing to my feet when a weight abruptly fell on my back pinning me down, and a rough hand grabbed a clump of my hair and painfully pulled my head back, allowing a blade to be placed at my throat. I saw a pair of stilettos walk into my vision and the assassin towered over me.

She looked down at me, a slight smile playing on her full lips, then she nodded, nodded in what almost seemed in admiration and respect. Which made me smile and despite the state I was in, I nodded back. I'd fought well; I'd tried my best, I didn't mind dying now. I just wished I'd taken one down with me.

She nodded again, gave me a gorgeous full-fledged grin, it was a shame most of her face was hidden as I was sure she was beautiful. The one on my back let go of my hair, and the other activated her power sword, raised it over her head and cut down in a decapitating arc. Another powered blade abruptly blocked it in mid-swing and suddenly with a cry of pain the weight thrown off me. Darrance with his power scimitar appeared in view, causing the assassin to lung back from his vertical cut.

"Nice work apprentice!" he yelled. "Now let us take it from here!"

Gaping in dumb surprise, I rolled over to see Castella was now locked in combat with the other Assassin.

Despite myself, I sighed as slowly, laboriously I climbed to my feet and searched for my sword, yet a-bloody-gain I was getting my arse saved, seems to be a theme around here.

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letitrainathousandflames-archive · 7 years

Text

And It Echoes

Rating: Mature

Warnings: medical horror, torture, violence, blood, mutilation (tagging it like this to be safe - it is a darker fic)

Characters: ARC-0408 | Echo, CT-7567 | Rex, ARC-5555 | Fives (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Echo didn’t die did he? :)) of course not :))) and why again this isn’t exactly good? :)))))

He needed to secure the shuttle for them. For once, Fives was the one to scream for him not to go. For once, Fives obeyed protocol. But Echo needed to secure that shuttle. It was their only way out, and those clankers would explode it if he didn’t do something.

The gunfire was deafening. Echo keept shooting at any clanker on sight. He aimed at that metallic little bastard at the cannon. If he got that shot right, everything would be fine. He fired several times against the droid, but the thick plating of the tank held any damage he’d try to inflict. The canon turned it’s aim towards the shuttle, towards Echo. He drew in a deep breath.

Fives… Brother…

The impact of the blast knocked Echo back into the shuttle with such violence his helmet slipped out of his head; his body hit the back wall hard, so hard all the air left his lungs as the explosion rang in his ears loud enough for him to believe he’d never hear anything again. There was pain, and then, suddenly there was darkness.

Echo woke up in so much pain he thought he was dead. Even if he wasn’t, he was sure he was dying. He heard the faint voice of a droid. Everything sounded distant, as if he were underwater. The blast must’ve really damaged his hearing.

“…won’t survive, boss.”

Then he heard an equally metallic-sounding voice but deeper; a voice that carried a certain darkness within itself. He’d heard that voice in person only once, in a mission with general Skywalker, but he’d heard it many times in transmissions and datapads. That was General Grievous:

“I survived with less. He will make it. Prep him for surgery and get rid of these meat stumps before they get infected. We need this clone alive.”

“Roger roger.”

Echo tried to talk, but it was like his tongue was made of lead. Everything hurt so much. He opened his eyes, flinching at the bright white light coming from the ceiling and he blinked a few times to adjust his sight. Clankers all around him, plus two… No, three medical droids. What was going on? Had he been captured? But why would the enemy be concerned about a clone’s health? Why was he still alive?

He tried to piece everything together in his head. There had been the ambush, and the shuttle, and then an explosion, bright like a sun and almost as hot. There had been the taste of blood in his mouth, and the flames all around him…

Echo tried to move his arm, but agony ran all over his body and he gasped at the pain. He could feel straps restraining him to the table, over his chest and torso. In an effort that had almost made him faint again at the pain, he lifted his head up to see the extent of the damage he’d sustained at the blast. Breathing was very painful, and he believed at least two of his ribs to be broken.

When his gaze fell on the bloody, mutilated stump of his right arm, he gasped and his eyes went wide. His breathing grew ragged, and he coughed on his own spit. He looked further, at his kicking legs—No. There were… There were no legs. He could feel himself kicking but… His right leg had been crushed into a nauseating sight of exposed bones, scorched flesh and blood, while his left one… there was nothing below the knee.

Echo’s head fell back violently against the table, a ragged scream ripping through his throat into a long, horrifying sound. He trashed and screamed, no matter how much it would hurt him even further. That was a nightmare, had to be… He should be back at the GAR with Fives, should be safe, not with these goddamn clankers, mutilated and almost dead. It couldn’t be real. No.

Four large metallic fingers held his head down in place, and the upside-down vision of Grievous’ yellow eyes came into sight, adding to the nightmarish atmosphere.

“No anesthesia.” the General said “I handled it just fine back in my time. I’m sure you clones are tough enough to handle a little cutting and burning, aren’t you?”

Echo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not as he heard the electrical saw powering up and filling the room with a sound similar to a drill’s. He was breathing so fast his vision was getting cloudy.

“What are you gonna do to me?” he gasped

Grievous’ eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh, clone trooper. We are going to turn you into a fine machine of our own.”

Echo wanted to spit at Grievous’ face, to throw every single curse he knew in Mando’ and Basic (and a few others he knew in Huttan and Twi’lek, because he was Echo from the 501st, he knew a little bit of everything he’d ever came across), but when the saw touched the skin of his right thigh, all he could do was scream between his clenched teeth.

He held Grievous’ gaze. He wouldn’t go down whining and crying, he was a ARC trooper, a 501st, he was a decorated soldier of the Republic. He was Echo of Kamino, he was the Rishi Moon survivor, he was Fives’ brother, he was…

“Aaaah” he coughed, gasping between his screams “AaaaAAAAAH!”

Griveous was laughing. Laughing in delighted amusement, his hand holding Echo’s head down in place and almost breaking the skin of his forehead with its sharp metallic digits. By the time they had seared a prosthetic leg in place, Echo wasn’t feeling much coherent anymore. He wanted – needed – to rest. That was when Grievous said:

“The left one now. Hurry up. He’s bleeding out, and this clone is worth fifty of you. Move on.”

“No…” Echo huffed out, and he hated the begging in his own voice “No… No, please…!”

The electric saw was powered on again, and he swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes to then run down the sides of his face, into his still-ringing ears. He had believed he was numb to the pain after the first procedure. He had believed his senses would be unable to process any new discomfort. Kix had told him something like that before, that the human brain could only process so much pain.

Echo had always hated being wrong, but he’d never hated it so much as he did now. He stopped putting up a brave face. He sobbed and cried and begged for them to stop. He felt faint and weak and wished he’d bleed out enough to faint or die – neither happened. When the smell of burning flesh subsided after the connections to another prosthetic leg were made, Grievous ordered absently:

“The arm now.”

Droll was oozing free out of Echo’s half-open mouth, as were the fluids out of his nose and the urine wetting his blacks. He raised his brown eyes to Grievous’ cold, yellow irises and he whispered weakly:

“You have… no use for me… I won’t say a word… so you might as well just kill me… kill me now… kill me…”

Grievous blinked lazily to then pet Echo’s head almost kindly.

“Oh, but you will say it. You will tell us everything. I wouldn’t discard an ARC trooper, not with all the strategies and schematics this little head of yours must hold.”

The electric saw started to buzz again, and Echo turned his head away not to face whatever they would do to his right arm. The tears out of his wide-open eyes were now running over the bridge of his nose and he held back a sob.

“Kill me. I’m begging you, kill me. Strike a victory to the Separatists, kill me now.”

Grievous was still petting Echo’s head.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he purred “Becoming one with a machine?”

He grabbed hold of Echo’s head in a vicious grip, forcing him to look at the saw diving into the flesh of his mutilated, bleeding arm. And as Echo screamed in agony, Grievous’ continued:

“I will enjoy witnessing a prized clone of the republic becoming no more than a machine, with his mind wide open for me to explore, to ravish. And when all your friends are dead, I will wake your mind from its slumber just to show you what’s left of their corpses. Ah, yes, do imagine… Kenobi and Skywalker’s lightsabers as part of my collection, and all thanks to you.”

By the time the medical droid cut off the broken, charred stump of flesh out of him, Echo felt suddenly very distant of himself, as if he were out of his body and yet tethered to it. The pain subsided and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He gasped one last time as unconsciousness wrapped its hands on him and he begged, as his mind shut down, for this to be the end of him.

It wasn’t. he couldn’t understand exactly how, but he could feel them. Probing and digging through his mind, through his knowledge. There was nothing he could to. The pain and fear of the many previous surgeries had nothing similar to the disgusting sense of violation as they scavenged through the data in his head. He hated himself. Hated himself for being such an obsessed idiot – he knew more than the average clone, and for that, he could provide the separatists with so much more than any other would; schematics, strategies, codes, all out in the open for them to use, and there was nothing Echo could do as they invaded his mind over and over, much like Grievous himself had said, ravishing him. He wanted to die, all he wanted was to die and not even that they would give him. Instead, he’d float in that forgotten tank, losing sense of time and digging deeper into insanity. And then it came to him - a plan. A way out.

But they wouldn’t come for him. Nobody would, except… Fives. Fives would come back to him.

And he did, Echo thought as he woke up on the arms of a brother, a clone trooper. He blinked several times until Rex’s face came into focus and for the first time in… he didn’t actually have a clue of how long, but he smiled, and it felt like his face hadn’t done this in forever.

“You came for me, Rex…”

“Of course I did.” Rex’s eyes ran over his broken body, a reflection of his mind too “We’ll take you home, Echo. You’ll be fine.”

Relief washed over Echo and he curled up closer to the captain despite the pain in his body, unused to moving around out of the tank. He had missed seeing a brother’s face. He had missed the white armor. He had missed it all so much. And he missed…

“Fives.” he mumbled as tranquility lured him into sleep faster than any drug could “I can’t wait to see… Fives…”

#medical horror/#blood/#mutilation/#torture/#arc trooper echo #captain rex #arc trooper fives #my fics #tcw #ayyy this is far more horrible than i expected lmao

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gyromitra-esculenta · 6 years

Text

Synchronicity 13

F.E.A.R.!AU And we are out of the Talon blacksite by the end of this chapter. This is mostly combat porn. Also, introducing Sombra as Paxton and Jesse as Point Man. Jack's dissolution of reality is really fun to write. On the other hand, the most tedious (and secretly entertaining) thing is keeping track of his inventory.

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(...)Lips pressed against his back, just below his neck; a thumb lazily rubbing circles into his arm; their legs tangled together.

Something skitters on his palm and Jack flicks it off absentmindedly.

“Have you ever thought about later?” (...)

***

(…)

A man with a grudge and a case

A man with intent on his face

And if a man walks into place

Let it be known I won't hesitate

(…)

The mechanical hiss makes him glance over the makeshift cover – one of the hatches in the ground opens giving way to the rising black matte container – big enough to contain a human, barely. The coffin. That’s how they call it. He can feel the visceral knowledge claw at his insides, the acidic panic, the claustrophobic pressure on his mind.

It stops with a jerk. Jack tightens his grip on the Seegert.

The container opens slowly, agonizingly so, and from the inside stumbles out a masked figure dressed in a strangely familiar uniform yet nondescript enough he cannot place the affiliation. There is an ‘S114’ printed on his left breast in bold white letters. The man almost trips and then straightens, his posture undergoing a complete shift in the split second between the actions.

Jack has his eyes on the rifle held ready in the enemy’s hands, waits for the barrel to swing away from his position as the man scans the room. There is only a slim window for action, growing even smaller with two other hatches activating.

He climbs over the wall in one fluid movement and launches himself at the enemy, sending them both sprawling to the ground, twisting his pistol to the man’s neck and firing several times, lets go of the grip and grasps for the rifle, tears it away from the twitching fingers.

“Enemy sighted.”

Shit. Jack clenches his teeth and ducks behind the coffin offering close to no protection. They will flank him, it’s the basic maneuver. Any movement will put him in the line of fire, and even this cover is fleeting, the whole container shudders when the lid closes, and it starts to sink back underneath the surface of the training range. Inhale.

He dashes to the right, not bothering with blind cover fire, to lean against the concrete partition. Ignoring such risks as negligible is well within the usually calculated simulation parameters. Soldiers like this are expendable. Exhale.

The rifle, Patten – he smirks, lines of it fluid under his touch, not their usual loadout, but he’s familiar with it – should have the full magazine in. Thirty rounds. Good stopping power, moderate armor piercing capability. Bad news if the others are armed with those, still more of a fighting chance for him.

Inhale. Listen. A crunch to the left. Around ten paces back. His hands are wet with sweat. Visualize the height and the posture. Reconstruct the room. A sound of fabric from the right side. Build the replica in your mind. Exhale.

Inhale, prepare, rise up. Hold your breath. Shoot. The man jerks back and breaks in half when the bullets from the short burst impact with his mask. Chips from the concrete brush Jack’s cheek. Duck behind the cover. Exhale.

His heart is thudding in his chest. Close, too close. Again, the whirr of the machinery, two more coffins. He won’t last here long. There is a touch of hysteria to those thoughts, he knows, but knowing is different from managing. His fingers are becoming jittery, spasming on their own without control. The Beast grips his left wrist. Grounds him.

“Remember, Sunshine,” the oily sound coils itself around his mind. Inhale. The magazine should have around twenty-six bullets now. Three targets. Exhale. Accumulate the tension in the muscles. Prepare. The sound of the coffins popping open simultaneously. Inhale.

“Flanking.”

Jack springs out of the cover to the left, keeping low. The sound of the gunfire chases him as he moves in a semicircle. He passes the body on the ground and flings himself behind another partition. The dead soldier lies halfway out of the cover, he grabs his leg and hauls him closer with a strong jerk of his arms. He snags the two grenades, pulls the pin on one, counts down, and throws it over the cover blindly. The other one follows just as the dust brought up by the first explosion flows over the concrete to his side.

“Compromised. Need reinforcements.”

This gives him the time to eject the magazine from the dead man’s rifle. Around fifty-six bullets now. Two targets. Inhale. Jack leans out of the cover. He can see one enemy, crawling on the ground, one leg torn off above the knee, the other just a bloody mess under the ragged fabric. Lucky throw. The second soldier is hidden from his view now.

The man manages to lift his gun with one hand, the other bracing for purchase on the ground. Fuck. Do they even feel pain? Do they even register it? Jack cannot wrap his mind around the concept. Exhale. Shoot. One bullet through the mask. Fifty-five left, rough estimate. He notices three more black shapes in the gaps between the obstacles, at least two of them already open. No time to panic. Need to change position. Four targets now, minimum. Inhale.

He maps out the layout, the explosions still ringing in his ears. Exhale. Move on the outer rim of the range, sprint along the wall, pass the car. Inhale. He moves with the purpose, changing position, in the open…

“Target sighted.”

With the electronic voice comes the impact. It feels like a jackhammer to his side, then a short blackout as he topples down. Desperately, he drags himself forward. Hyperventilating. He rips off the helmet – his head is buzzing, his vision swims – the thing is dented where the bullet hit.

Every breath hurts. The vest held on the chest. His left side is numb and cold. Don’t look. He traces his fingers over the hole, its ridges already wet. He’s going to die here. Jack cranes his neck down.

“Don’t look, Sunshine,” the voice stops him, ghostly fingers rest over his hand. Don’t look. Might stave off the shock. It’s still numb, does not bode well. He’s behind the damned burned out car frame, it offers little protection. He grasps for the dropped rifle. His hand is slick with blood. “Hold your breath.”

He can hear them converging on his position. He’s going to die here.

The screen on the wall, he can see it from here, and there is a movement that catches his eye, a swath of color, purple, violet, pink? The person – woman – stops before the nightmarish chair holding the misshapen twitching human. There is a snap of neon lines in the air and the creature is literally ripped apart into pieces that fall separately around the contraption raining blood.

His lungs begin to burn.

“Exhale,” the Beast orders and Jack does as he is told to do. The next breath comes slowly, unfurls in his chest at the same time the pain in his side slowly comes into focus, stabbing, living. Good. Pain means time.

“My Los Muertos, they dared, they dared to belittle them with… with this!?” The woman’s voice booms over the speakers. Jack pulls himself up a bit, to look back through the window of the frame. No, he won’t question why the soldiers now just stand in place, swaying lightly, like dormant hanging marionettes with no-one to pull their strings. “This fake?”

“Feeling obsolete, bitch?” Another voice, thick with the accent, joins in. His head snaps to the side, searching against reason. McCree.

“Oh. I’ll show you obsolete and shove it up your ass, dear brother. But first,” she turns to the screen, her movements somehow birdlike in how her limbs snap into place viciously, “you killed them, but now you will die because they are with me as they should be.”

“Proceed,” comes from behind before the hail of bullets rips into the car. Jack curls on himself. Bullets perforate the brittle metal, something singes his cheek. Metal shavings bite into his skin. He’s going to die here, there’s too many of them. There is a new side of aggression in their offense. No space to act.

“Do you remember your training, Sunshine?” The Beast whispers insistently, but the training won’t help him now. Only the rifle, almost two magazines. Last stand. Force down the panic. You’re going to die, take them down with you. All soldiers are is lambs led to slaughter. A future banquet for worms. “Remember your training, Sunshine,” the Beast paces restlessly along the old gnarled tree. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not.” Jack feels the calm descend upon him, like a blanket, his breath slowing. His heart stills inside his chest. “You will take me with you when you go, won’t you?”

“It makes it easier, Sunshine,” the Beast smiles with all its fanged mouths, dark tongues lolling out in mirth. Clawed hand cups his bleeding cheek and for a moment Jack looks into crimson eyes. “You are always with me, and I, I am always with you.”

He glances to the side, at the bullet slowly sailing by his head, the air behind it stretching the prismatic luminosity in its wake, metal fragments exploding in points of unexpected brightness. All sounds distort and dampen. Jack inhales even as the wet stringy darkness tugs at the corners of his vision. He stands up with Patten braced against his shoulder.

Six targets total. Two shots per each, accuracy and precision. Watching the impact, the strange whiplash as he hits the targets – their bodies jerked violently with enough force to rip them apart at seams – is strangely satisfying. He feels the passing bullet ruffle his hair.

“This is it, Sunshine, this is how we are together, this is how we were meant to be, always,” the Beast coils between his fingers, nips at his neck, breathes the words into his ear, and he listens. “The hatch on the left,” its voice points out and Jack turns, runs, slides over the gravel and slips into the opening, his back contorting when he hits the lowering coffin. When he tumbles to the cold floor, the time and reality slam back into existence. Jack curls over the rifle, hands clutching at his side, the vicious stabs of pain bringing tears to his eyes. He feels saliva gathering in his mouth in reaction, and whimpers. No. Swallow even if it hurts only to think. He is dehydrated and bleeding. He cannot afford to… “I know, Sunshine,” claws rest on the nape of his neck almost non-threateningly, but the points dig into his skin deep, “you can’t rest here. You have to go.”

Yes. He can’t stay here, there are black coffins stacked on one another along the sides of the corridor, one of them actually being moved along the transportation line above him. It snaps into place below the hatch he used to escape the training range.

Jack moves to his knees, his grasp on the rifle faltering, and small whines of pain making it past the clenched teeth. With difficulty, he heaves himself up, left hand clasped over the bullet hole, and unsteadily follows forward. Each step burns. His breath shortens.

“You… you will take me with you… won’t you?” The darkness creeps into his vision as his right leg almost sinks under him. He manages to stabilize himself, leaning on the wall.

“I am always with you,” the Beast whispers back when he sinks into the grass, into the smell of a warm sunny afternoon – the richness of the green and the earth soothing in their onslaught. Lips pressed against his back, just below his neck; a thumb lazily rubbing circles into his arm; their legs tangled together.

Something skitters on his palm and Jack flicks it off absentmindedly.

“Have you ever thought about later?”

“You’d miss it.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Too broken and too intertwined to ever find another way, yet here, in this place, at this time, perfect and content, wrapped in each other, breathing in and out in symmetry to the music of the buzzing insects. Jack closes his eyes.

“Turn around.” The voice, it’s wrong, doesn’t belong here – wherever and whenever here is – sends shivers of cold down his spine. Nails sink into the skin of his arm. “Turn around.”

“…no,” he answers, the word breaking in half on the hitch of a breath.

“Remember your…”

“No, please, don’t make me do this, don’t take this from me,” Jack pleads with the inevitable. His fingers dig into the dirt, into the clumps of roots below, into things slithering under the surface. Cold hands close around his throat.

“This does not belong to you,” his doppelganger snarls at him spitting blood. “It never did! It never will!”

No, this is not his, and when the pressure lessens he opens his eyes to artificial light and the smell of cordite and ozone in the air along with the stink of burning plastic and circuitry, and something else he cannot place due to the strange haze that makes his fingertips tingle. Railing, he’s leaning against the railing, on a slightly raised platform over the rest of the chamber, and to the left, there is a half empty IV bag hanging, hooked to the metallic balustrade, the needle feeding its contents into his arm. By his side lies an emptied field kit, bandages and tape strewn around, some stained with blood.

Jack clenches his hand and starts. Morphine syringe. Used.

His vest is open. He lets go of the syringe and cautiously feels around the wound. It’s dressed. The touch makes him inhale sharply in pain. Past the threshold. Movement is going to be troublesome. Slowly, hissing under his breath and bracing against the railing, Jack stands up. The strange alien tug inside his stomach… the bullet is still in.

Now he can see the bodies below and still-smoking remnants of a powered armor.

“Do you understand now, Sunshine?” The Beast purrs snugly pressed against his chest. “Together, we are unstoppable. We will bring about the end.”

His hand hovers for a moment over the blinking console. No other time than now. He touches the prompt and looks up when he hears the grind of machinery. The enormous hatch in the ceiling opens raining dust and the platform starts, then laboriously moves upwards.

He can hear the feedback from his comm unit grow stronger.

“I’ll just find…” Lena. She stutters. “Jack!? That bloody you?”

“Yes. I think so.” He can’t keep the weary smile out of his voice.

“Bloody hell, you daft bugger, I was getting bloody worried…!”

“Lena.” It’s Winston, still calm and composed. “If anyone was going to get out of there on their own it was Morrison.”

“Bloody fucking right, Papa Winston.” Jack can hear the gears in her head turning. “I managed to hail Bunny, she’s working on bringing the meat wagon around but it’s the bloody apocalypse out there and traffic is killer. GPS is dead as fuck, but I dare say you’ll find the bloody stadium, right?”

“We will tear, we will rend, we will feast, together,” the Beast chortles, its maw pushing against his cheek in a needy way, and his hand pets it eliciting little whines of contentment. “Nothing will stand in our way.”

“Yes,” Jack confirms.

#sometimes I write #fear!AU #r76 #reaper76 #proper part #combat violence #Yass #this is a rewrite of less than 500 words #and finally we can go into the streets

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Running from the Past: Prologue

Summary: Reader is a mutant who was experimented on by HYDRA. Due to her unique powers, she escapes without being seen when the Avengers attack the Hydra compound she’d been kept in for the last 5 years of her life. Her mutations and Hydra experiments allow her to blend in with her surroundings (like a chameleon/cuttlefish/octopus) and change her appearance in minor ways (such as hair, skin, and eye color), though the changes are only temporary. She’s now on the run, avoiding both Hydra and SHIELD. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1,483 Warnings: Swearing, past torture/mentions of torture, Angst, violence/fighting Rough Translations: “Милосердие, пожалуйста! Пожалуйста!” - Mercy, please! please! Где это? - Where is it? Эксперимент отсутствует - The experiment is gone J'espère que tu brûle dans l'enfer, les cochons! - I hope you burn in hell, pigs!

Masterlist // Next Chapter

One Year Ago

You sat bolt upright on the hard mattress in your cell. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. You raced to the door, bare feet slapping the freezing concrete, and peered out the small eye level slat in the door. Outside, Hydra soldiers ran past your room and down the long corridor. Red lights flashed and alarms blared. The ground shook under your feet as a large explosion went off somewhere else in the compound. The single dingy light bulb in your cell swung ominously from its cord on the ceiling. A voice barked orders on the PA system and you could only hear a few words over the din:

“Under attack... All hands prepa-... Avengers, I repeat, the Avengers-”

The voice cut off suddenly and didn’t come back. Your mind reeled.

The Avengers? What on earth is an “Avenger,” and why were they stupid enough to attack a fully functional and very deadly Hydra base?

The ground shook again, more violently this time. You backed away from the door as the sounds of gunshots filled your ears. A chill ran down your spine and it took you a moment to realize why.

You could hear screams over the cacophony of noise. You could make out a person pleading.

“What have I done? Please, no! NO!-” bang.

“Милосердие, пожалуйста! Пожалуйста!” came another voice, full of the same desperation, closer than the last, and followed by another loud discharge of a firearm.

You backed away from the door. Hydra was killing their assets. Your mind kicked into overdrive. You looked around your small room for only a moment. There was nothing to help you in here; Hydra made sure there was nothing you could use as a weapon. The tiny window was too small for you to fit through, even if you could get up to it... which was unlikely, as it was twelve feet off the ground. Knowing it would do you no good to panic, you took a deep breath and focused.

You ripped off your clothing and shoved it under your tiny, lumpy mattress, shivering against the chilly air. The frigid cement wall instantly raised goosebumps on your skin as you backed into it, plastering yourself across its surface. The door was a few feet (a meter) to your left and you prayed it wouldn’t open, already knowing it was a fool’s hope. Your skin prickled uncomfortably as it changed colors. First red, then a lined green that resembled grass, then finally the dirty, slate grey of your cell wall.

A hysterical laugh came from the cell across the hall. “J'espère que tu brûle dans l'enfer, les cochons!” came the voice of the woman who you knew only by the color of her eyes which you sometimes saw through the slat in her door. A terrifyingly loud bang sounded a moment later, instantly cutting off her crazed laughter.

You focused harder and mimicked the dirt and grime that painted the miserable room. For the first time since your capture you sent a fervent prayer up to anyone who might be listening. You barely had had a moment to get your plea out when your door banged open, slamming hard against the wall, flooding your room with the wailing sirens and flashing red lights of the alarms.

Three soldiers stood in the doorway and peered into the cell, guns raised, fingers on the triggers.

“Где это?“ the one in the center asked. His voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore.

“What’s the problem?” came a fourth voice from somewhere out of your range of vision. Your stomach plummeted. You recognized that voice. It was always present whenever you had a new test done on you. From what you could tell, she wasn’t the one who came up with the sadistic experiments... but she performed them with barbarous glee.

“Эксперимент отсутствует,“ said the man in the middle, motioning to the cell with his automatic rifle.

There was a brief pause. The woman glanced in the room past the soldiers and then at the number on the wall next to your door. You didn’t dare breathe.

She grinned viciously and you felt your blood go cold. “Oh, it’s in there. It’s hiding from us. Just shoot at the entire room,” She said malevolently before turning on her heel and walking away.

This is it, you thought to yourself as the men saluted the woman before taking position. You closed your eyes and cursed the gods (each of them, every single one you’ve ever heard of- and even the ones you hadn’t). You’d been so close to fooling them. Fate had played one final, cruel trick on you: It had given you hope. You took a deep, shaky breath that the men didn’t even hear over the sirens.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat, You felt cement fragments from your walls hit your body as their well-aimed barrage made its way across the room. You hoped the sheer amount of bullets would make it painless.

But then, the bullets stopped. You waited for them to resume, to tear your body to shreds where you stood, shaking, in the corner. Your eyes refused to open until you heard boots thumping on concrete a short way down the hall- people running towards your room. You gasped at the sight that awaited you. The three men lay in a bloody heap on the floor, their lifeblood painting it a grisly red.

You froze again as a man dressed in black stepped into view. The sight of him almost set you screaming when you recognized who it was. His metallic arm gleamed in the gloomy light, scattering the red alarm light everywhere. A red star on his shoulder assuaged any doubts you might have had. His dark hair curtained his face and his bright blue eyes searched the area for something. You felt light-headed. You thought you might pass out.

No, truly, this is Fate’s greatest joke, you thought to yourself bitterly. The Winter Soldier, here. The Fist of Hydra. The legendary assassin.

He peered into your room, down at the men at the ground, and then back into your room. His eyes searched it critically and you swore you felt his eyes meet yours, but, to your immense relief, his gaze swept over the rest of the room, and he made no move towards you.

A second man appeared next to him. He wore a spangled outfit and even you, with your hazy memories and drug-induced thoughts, recognized the man that the world knew as Captain America. You expected them to fight, but they simply looked at the carnage around them. The Captain glanced into your room before addressing the Winter Soldier.

“What is it, Buck?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and concerned light in his eye.

The Soldier stared at the dead Hydra agents at his feet, then threw one last sweeping gaze into your room before shaking his head. “We were too late,” he said in his deep voice before he turned on his heels and continued down the hallway. The Captain sighed heavily, pulled the shield off of his back and, in one fluid motion, threw it down the hallway the way he had come. You heard pained grunts and the cracking of a few bones before the shield flew back into view. He caught it easily with one hand and returned it to the spot on his back. He looked around, and you knew what he saw. Your fellow prisoners, dead, a bullet to their heads. His face remained impassive for a moment before, in a flurry of movement almost too fast for you to see, he pulled his arm back and let it loose, punching the cement wall next to your door. To your dismay, you saw the cement crack. With one last sad look around him, he jogged off after the Winter Soldier.

You didn’t move for what felt like hours- long after the explosions had stopped and the alarms and sirens had been turned off. Long after the last Hydra scientists and soldiers had fled, been killed, or captured. Long after the Avengers had left, leaving the base a half-destroyed mess. You finally let your skin return to its usual color and stepped away from the wall. Your mattress squeaked ominously when you grabbed your pitiful excuses for clothing from the bed and pulled them on. The scratchy fabric ran over your goosebumps and you shivered. Your adrenaline high had run out long ago and you were feeling the chill in the air. You stuck your head out of the door apprehensively. You half expected to be shot, but the halls were empty.

You made your way around, moving as quietly as possible. The exit didn’t take too long to locate, thanks to your knowledge of the facility from your time spent there. You made it up from the lower levels to the ground floor, only getting lost twice.

You smelled the fresh air before you saw the door. Forgetting the danger, you ran forward and shoved your weight against the heavy, reinforced metal. It creaked open an inch before it simply fell off the hinges, clattering loudly to the ground. You toppled down on top of it with a yelp. And then, for the first time in five years, you looked up at the sky and saw the beginnings of a sunrise. You took a moment to take in the world around you. You were free.

And then you ran.

Chapter 1

If you like this series and want to be tagged in others like it, check out this post!

☕ Buy Me a Coffee! ☕

#Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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yukiwrites · 7 years

Text

Fleeting Smile

Some time ago I asked you guys if you would read any original work I had, and since I got a very good response, I decided to type it! I don’t really know how to tag it, but feel free to ask away anything you wanna know about the plot, characters or sequels. This one will probably have only 3 chapters since it’s a short story, but depending on how you guys like it, I might post another originals later ;v;) I got inspired to write this after I watched the Shelter anime (it has absolutely nothing to do with it btw, only the song inspired me, so I highly reccomend listening to it as you read), so here you go! Please tell me what you think ;D

This is a land where magic is widely known, but hardly ever practiced. The reason for such is because the most powerful magical beings, the witches, were born without the ability to have feelings. Most of said witches do not concern themselves with human matters, though it is not uncommon for some of them to respond to human's strong feelings and make a contract with such human.

While the contract lasts, the witches are able to perceive emotions through their human host. As such, those magical beings curious enough to experience these sensations resonate easier with the human kind.

One of them, however, never once tried such fleeting and dangerous pass-time. Not because she never felt like it, no, but because the power contained inside her body was of a such great extent that not a single human's managed to demonstrate feelings strong enough to summon her throughout her ever-lasting life.

Witches are known not only by their deeds but by the contracts they have made -- and their aliases become their true names after they've forgotten their birth ones. This particular Witch, however, has had no name from the start of her life, and, because of that, she was known as The Void (or Devoid, depending of who was speaking of her).

Despite being some sort of legend around the magical world (dragons usually kept to themselves, but they loved to test their magical strength against witches from time to time, so their gossip was the one who flew faster), Devoid hasn't been heard of for over seven years.

Coincidentally, during that time, a single young man has been rumored to have incomparable power...

The wind had been strong at the wasteland, kicking up sand and making it difficult to travel as well as see the path ahead. From the distance, a single figure could be seen through the dust, its figure tall but hunched over, the steps strong and resolved.

Upon closer inspection, the figure was composed of not a single man -- he was carrying something, or rather, someone, on his back, hence the reason why he was hunched over.

Worried, he kept looking over his shoulder to the sleeping blonde little girl he carried. "Damn this place; there ain’t a single tall rock! How can I make camp, now? I don't want Suzu to be scratched all over by this fucking sandstorm." He grumbled.

The girl's white dress fluttered around the strong wind, her body as unresponsive as always. But he heard something inside his head and almost tripped due to the mental ear-pull.

"Aight, aight, sorry, Suzu." He laughed and groaned after rolling his eyes, "I ain't saying bad words anymore."

His black, tattered overcoat danced with the wind, though in a completely different direction, as though it had a life of its own. The long, eastern sword he carried on his hip did not move at all; like such measle wind was going to make it budge.

Once again, the man groaned. "Okay, fine, I give up." He crouched and placed Suzu on the ground right beside a wilted tree trunk. He let out a faint and tired smile as he put some strands of hair behind her ears before his eyes turned somber as he looked to the dark shadow far, far ahead into the wasteland. "If you're not letting me find a good place for her to rest, I gotta finish you off right away."

The air crackled around him and the figure, as though the sandstorm itself had breathed in and out, preparing itself for battle. Without taking his eyes off of the approaching darkness, the man took off his overcoat and placed it over the little girl. Her hair and clothes stopped fluttering; the coat served as a barrier against the climate, making Suzu look like she was simply sleeping peacefully covered with a tasteless black blanket.

Swiftly, the man took his overgrown sword out of its scabbard only to place the sheath beside the tree trunk. "Protect her, you hear?" He whispered and immediately a purple barrier enveloped the area around the sleeping girl.

The long sword he carried -- it had a deep, black blade.

No, it couldn't be called as such since it wasn't made of steel; it was made only of raw power. He had chosen his weapon to look like a sword because it was similar to what he was used to wielding in the past -- but it could shape itself in virtually anything he wanted it to.

Sensing his strong feelings and tight grip, the dark blade started to sway, ready to take the shape of anything its master ordered through their bond.

Free of his coat, the man could be seen on his entirety -- he had short, black hair and had countless scars around his body as well as a single cut in the middle of his face. Each step he took towards the darkness made his heart thump more.

"You knew I was coming, right? You guys always seem to." He yelled, his steps getting faster, his legs making him run.

Once he was close enough to the darkness, it towered over him by at least 30 meters, but he didn't cower.

He had but one fear, and that only surfaced after each fight he picked.

Without needing words to communicate, an Earth Dragon finally made itself seen through the sandstorm: It had a large turtle-like beak protecting its mouth, and, out of all of its species, it was the most physically strong dragon. Its scales were deep brown, contrasting with its hooves. It didn't have a tail and its wings couldn't take it out of the ground, but it had total control over each and every thing that belonged to the earth -- even the smallest shard of stone -- making it a terrible foe to winged enemies.

The Dragon let out a roar, accepting the challenge, already aware of the conditions.

"Ya'll are some gossipy grannies, ya know? Sheesh." The man complained, effortlessly jumping twice the Dragon's height so as to dodge a stalagmite it had created on the ground right in front of him moments before.

The sound leaving the Dragon's mouth could be heard as laugh, though its jaw wasn't made for speech. As soon as the man was vulnerable on the air, the Dragon made the hundreds of thousands of sand grains to condensate into earth needles before he shot them all at him.

"Oh!" The man let out an exclamation of false surprise as his sword moved too fast for the eye to see -- soon there were no shards around, though one or two made their way to scratch his face.

He never really researched about the foe he was going to battle, hence the amount of scars he carried throughout the years. He never really minded the physical pain, since any wounds on his body could be recovered.

As long as he held onto hope, nothing could faze him. Not pain, not giant dragons, not never-ending wastelands.

Not even death.

As long as he could avoid the fear he felt after each fight -- as long as he could hold onto the hope of being successful in his endeavors… He would defeat any foe in his way.

The Earth Dragon, despite having the best physical defense out of all, also had an incredible magical affinity, as every dragon in the world. The man's sword was made out of magic, though he himself used it as a melee weapon.

The battle was bound to last a while -- the man would try to cut his way through the physical and magical defenses by blindly hitting his overgrown enemy. If he had spared a thought and made an effort to look into the Earth Dragon's weaknesses, he would have found out about the five crystals engraved into the Dragon's scales: one inside each leg and another under its tongue.

But alas, the man was as brute as always, and his sword swayed impatiently. Having none of that, it abruptly raised itself over his head. He frowned and looked up to it. "Hey!"

A magical circle began to appear around the sword's hilt and the dark blade melted into a black smoke, bleeding into each and every symbol the circle created.

The Dragon felt a sudden chill over its spine -- if the next attack hit it, it would cease to be.

The magical circle grew and grew, until it covered almost the entire wasteland around them.

Then, time stopped.

Rather, it seemed to. It was the fickle time between breathing in and breathing out -- the calm before the storm.

The man held his breath, his hand still bound to the sword's hilt, now merged into the circle, before countless rays of darkness flew out of it at the speed of sound.

To protect itself, the Earth Dragon erected wall after wall around its weak points, but they were shattered to pieces under the immense dark power leaving the circle.

More sand kicked up, making the man cough and look over his shoulder to the place he had left Suzu: the barrier had held everything out, even the tiniest spec of sand. As though his hand wasn’t shooting a dark ray of death, the man breathed out in relief and cracked a smile looking at the little girl.

After everything was done, the circle bled back into being a sword and the man slowly glided back to the ground. His ears rang with the sudden silence after such tremendous explosion and he glared at his hand before taking a step towards the Earth Dragon.

However, no matter how many steps he took, he couldn't find the gigantic body. "Great, did you pulverize him to death, Witch?" He spat on the ground.

A weak laugh was heard a few paces away from where he stood. "Ahaha, nay, she did not. It was a close call, however."

"Oh, yer older than I expected." The man said bluntly to the shadow that made itself seen through the dust in front of him.

Once again the Dragon laughed, but now on its humanoid form -- it was a tall, black and old man, his beard treading over the ground in front of him -- as he approached the winner. "I should say 'watch your tongue', but alas, I have lost a fight against you once; I cannot fight again that soon."

The man scratched his head, fear finally creeping into his heart. He stuck his sword on the ground and approached the Earth Dragon while checking his pockets. He was looking down, afraid to hear the same answer he had been getting for the past seven years.

Feeling the young man's anxiety, the Earth Dragon simply shook his head and looked towards the purple barrier, far behind the human.

"So, uh, since you already know what this is all about..." The man started, finally raising his gaze to meet the dragon's. "Please... please, save Suzu!"

Unlike witches, dragons were born with feelings -- and theirs actually resonated with human's more easily. The weight of that young man's feelings; the intensity with which he begged to save the little girl's life... it all struck the Earth Dragon deeply. He grimaced and spared a glance at the sword before opening his mouth.

"I'm afraid there is only one way--"

"NO!!" The man yelled, covering both ears with his hands, his body instinctively hunching over. "DON'T... Just... don't say it!"

The Earth Dragon's lips trembled as he looked at how the man pitifully kneeled on the ground, his entire body shaking. From the side of his eyes, he could see when the sword evaporated into a thick smoke and flew to the man's side, now showing itself on its true form.

"You have had the answer alongside you all this time, have you not, young man?" The Earth Dragon mourned, looking at the witch standing beside him.

She had deep purple skin, and her hair and clothes were of such a deep black they couldn't be discerned from each other. Her once expressionless face now only weeped.

"It has... it HAS to have another way! It can't be just this..." The man clenched his fists and hit the ground with all of his strength.

Without taking his eyes off the witch, the Earth Dragon pursed his lips, his heart aching. "For someone so powerful to be known as The Void to be seen like this..." He whispered, his eyes looking into the bright purple iris of Devoid's, the black sclera of her eyes of such a depth that could suck a lesser man inside. "You shall be known as The Weeping Witch from now on."

Tears fell down tirelessly from Weeping's eyes, as they have been for the past seven years. "A fitting name," she agreed, her voice sounding despite her mouth staying shut.

She cried the tears her human did not, for his feelings were now hers. She hadn't stopped crying from the moment they were united, all those nights seven years ago.

The tears his heart shed every single day for his slumbering little sister.

Controlling his sorrow, the young man finally stopped trembling and reached out once again for his pocket -- to a dismantled map he had been using since the beginning of his journey.

He got up and handed it to the Earth Dragon, his jaw hard and his eyes escaping reality. "Anyway, mark here. Ya should know what, right? Ya gossiping pussies and all."

Suzu was far away, but he could almost feel the mental ear-pull for the curse word, but he ignored it. The Earth Dragon looked down from his tall height to the small human.

"Young man, you already--"

"JUST-- MARK IT!" The man yelled, looking away. "I won't give up. There has to have another way."

Once again the Earth Dragon looked at Weeping. Her tears streamed down in spite of her as she woefully looked at the human's back. "... Very well," the Dragon said, taking the map and using magic to mark a path on it to where they should go next.

For the past seven years, man, girl and witch had been challenging powerful magical beings -- to the point of such beings looking forward to the challenge and waiting in specific locations for them. The Earth Dragon was waiting for him after he had defeated the Water Siren. Now, the Dragon was marking one of his sibling's lair -- the Lightning Dragon's domain -- so the man could once again ask a single answerless question.

After the older man was finished, the young man snatched the paper away and turned his back to the Dragon, heading towards his sister.

"Young man," the Dragon called and the man stopped without turning away. "Might I ask what do you go by? Surely a human such as yourself was given a birth name."

He looked over his shoulder, his deep brown eyes without a single glint. "Hohoe. Though that's not my birth name." He said and went back on his way.

'Fleeting Smile', the Earth Dragon thought.

It was the name his little sister called him long ago -- the most precious person in her life, her beloved big brother, Hohoemaru.

#Original story #writers on tumblr #oc #original fiction #Yuki's oc #my writings #Fleeting Smile #微笑まる #雀 #Hohoe

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