Dark Mage
Sanity is really overrated...
- Location
- Out of My Mind
This was under 2K?
The intensity of the scene made it feel twice that!
Good writing!
Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power] [Complete]
- Thread starter Lithos Maitreya
- Start date
- Crossover Users' Choice!
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
The intensity of the scene made it feel twice that!
Good writing!
KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
I wonder if people are appreciating the fact that the character who's thumbing their nose at Nazis is basically pulling a Moses. Not only is Moses a major Hebrew figure, one of the most important in their history as I understand it, but Moses also did his thing in opposition to the Egyptians. Who were most definitely not white.
It's at least 2 extra layers of insult. Which, I mean....**** Nazis.
It's at least 2 extra layers of insult. Which, I mean....**** Nazis.
Radiant 13.1
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @BeaconHill, @GlassGirlCeci, and @dwood15 for betareading.
The wind whispered around me as I crept along the balcony. The only light in the deserted street below streamed from the windows of the ground floor. A muffled clinking of glasses and nervous laughter could be heard within.
Carefully I slid open one of the second-story windows, and slipped inside a hallway, closing the entrance behind me. "I'm in," I murmured into my radio.
"On my way," came Sophia's voice. "We're sure this is the place?"
"Absolutely," confirmed Dragon. "Hookwolf's dogfighting ring is in the cellar."
"I can't believe they didn't call it off," I said. "Kaiser's feeling a bit cocky, isn't he?"
"I'm not sure Kaiser was involved," Dragon said. "The crowd tonight is mostly Hookwolf's inner group, not the usual blend from across the Empire's organization. I have a feeling this is happening in spite of Kaiser's concerns."
"Never thought I'd be jumping at the chance to prove Kaiser right," Sophia growled.
"He'll get his turn," I promised, padding silently down the hallway towards the elevators and the stairwell. "Aegis, is your team in position?"
"Yep," Aegis reported. "Vista's in position to deliver us right to their front door whenever you give the word."
"Great." I said as I quietly opened the door to the stairway and slipped inside. "Dragon, how are things with the Protectorate?" The sound of my voice, even at a whisper, echoed painfully inside the concrete walls.
"Armsmaster is currently chasing down an Empire smuggler, and Assault and Battery just captured a couple of thugs harassing a black family in the old Merchant territory," Dragon reported. "The rest of the Protectorate is on active patrol. It's going to be a long night."
"It's going to be longer for the Empire," I promised, gripping the stairway's metal railing. "Okay. Shadow Stalker, where are you now?"
"By the cellar window in the alley," Sophia said. "It's barred and shuttered, but I don't see any sign of an electrical current. I should be good to breach."
"Okay. Wait for the signal."
"You never told me the signal."
I smiled. "You'll know."
I swung my legs over the railing and leapt down. The two-story drop whispered by, and my boots touched down with an echoing clack as I hit the bottom. Through the frosted glass pane in the door to the cellar, I could see indistinct figures moving. Laughter and jeering echoed from inside, alongside the yelps of angry and wounded hounds.
I stood up, stretched, and crossed to the door. With a single, brutal kick, I splintered the wood around the latch. The door swung wide open, slamming against the adjacent wall. Silence instantly fell in the room beyond, and I was greeted by the sight of—I took a moment to count—two dozen assorted skinheads, men and women alike, staring at me with wide eyes.
There were cages in the middle of the room, and the floor beneath them was slick with blood. Dogs which had been rattling furiously at the bars, snarling and baying, now stared silently at me. Above them, overlooking them like a throne, was a great seat of metal and wire, and on it sat a thickset man painted with tattoos, a mask on his face in the shape of a snarling wolf.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," I said, drawing Sunrise, lighting the room with a pale orange glow. "I'm afraid the party's over."
Guns emerged from belts, holsters, and bags, but I was already moving. I dove forward, driving the hilt of Sunrise into the belly of one ganger. I felt something give—hopefully not his spine—and he was thrown backwards with a scream, bowling over several of his compatriots. Bullets sailed past me, but I was already moving again.
Sunrise was a whirlwind of shimmering black and silver as I wove among them. Bullets pinged harmlessly off of the alloy, or glanced off of my armor. I struck no one with my blade; I dealt no lethal blows. That did not mean I was gentle. Bones broke in my grip, joints snapped under blows from the flat or the hilt of my sword, blood flowed from beneath my fists.
And then Sophia was at my back, tranquilizer bolts spreading from her in a fan. Darkness cloaked her, smoke shadow pouring over my shoulders as she phased, neither fully material nor entirely shadow.
"Some signal," she growled, barely audible over the staccato of gunfire and the orchestra of screaming Nazis.
"I told you you'd know," I said, turning my head back to give her a wink.
She narrowed her eyes at me. Then they widened. "Move!"
I already was, and she quickly dissolved into mist. Not a moment too soon, as the metal barbs that comprised Hookwolf's body sailed through the space we'd been in. He howled, a sound neither human nor animal, the sharp points of his limbs sending sparks up as he turned on a dime. His eyes practically glowed as he glared at me.
I cracked my neck. The gunfire had mostly stopped by now—those gangers who could move were running up the stairs, and those who could not lay curled and groaning, cradling whatever part of their bodies I had mangled. "I did warn you," I told Hookwolf, rotating Sunrise idly in my grip.
He bared his teeth—blades that were as long as shortswords. The sound that emerged was halfway between a wolf's snarl and a man's furious bellow.
I could show him what a real werewolf is capable of. The thought bubbled up from some deep place in my heart. Sunrise grew cold under my fingers. My tongue snaked out, unbidden, to lick my lips. After all, it wouldn't even be wrong. He's a beast. He's vile. He deserves it. He's been lashing out at man and beast alike for years. Let him taste his own poison.
Then Sophia was beside me, Amauril in her hands. The sword lit the room, and Sunrise warmed again in my hand. "Why don't we take this outside, big boy?" she taunted, a sneer on her lips.
Hookwolf screeched and dove for us. We separated, darting around him and dashing for the stairs. I heard the scraping as he spun around. Sophia phased through the broken door, swinging loose on its hinges. I pulled it aside a moment later, just in time to see the trail of shadow she left behind her as she sailed upwards. She solidified on the landing one floor up, reaching down, her hand open. "Come on!" she shouted.
I jumped, grabbing her hand as my feet caught the very edge of the landing. She swung me up, over the railing, just as Hookwolf burst through the masonry of the wall behind me. "Go!" I shouted, and we went.
This was the plan. Drive the Empire out into the open, where the rest of the Wards could close around them. Hookwolf was no exception to that plan. In fact, he was its most vital target.
We dove out of the building's front door just as Hookwolf exploded onto the ground floor. The Empire was scattered—I could see several pockets being contained by the other Wards and a few PRT troopers with containment foam. But all that was secondary to what was right in front of us.
"Out of the way," growled the girl atop the massive hound. Bitch wasn't bothering with the mask anymore, probably because she no longer had a team to keep happy. She looked for all the world like an ordinary teenage girl, if a little stocky and ruddy, dressed in ratty jeans and a t-shirt. The lizardlike dog-creature she rode on chuffed at me, its breath staining the air around me with a faint, rank scent.
"What—" Sophia began, but Bitch ignored her, whistling to the dog beneath her. I grabbed Sophia and pulled her aside just in time.
Bitch charged. Hookwolf met her halfway. They met in a cloud of debris and crumbling stonework as he dove through the wall. The two twisted creatures snarled and tore into one another, biting and clawing in a primal ritual of dominance and hate.
But only one was bleeding. Bitch's beast might have been unnaturally powerful and resilient, but Hookwolf was made of metal. There was a reason he was considered one of the most powerful capes in the Bay—he had no obvious weaknesses.
That wasn't going to stop me.
"Hold him down, Bitch!" I shouted, shifting my grip on Sunrise.
"Brutus, hold!" she barked, and the dog obeyed. It sank its teeth into the wiry tangle of Hookwolf's neck and shoved its weight down onto him. Blood sprayed from its mouth as the flesh was pierced, but Hookwolf was forced into stillness, struggling and throwing himself against the hound.
I rushed forward. Sunrise trailed behind me in my double-handed grip. Hookwolf's eyes flickered to me—and there it was. The fear, glittering in his eyes like reflected firelight. I bared my teeth and drank it in. Then I leapt. The sword rose behind me, and I brought my weight down with it as I fell. It sheared deep into the metal—but no blood emerged, and though Hookwolf yelped, it seemed a sound of surprise more than pain.
I pulled the sword out and reached into the gash it had left. My fingers peeled away at the overgrowth of blades—and then I felt it. A surface of smooth crystal, radiating icy cold through the metal. As I touched it, Hookwolf screamed, thrashing in a frenzy, primal terror and pain shocking through him as the Shard's panic reverberated in the very mind of its host.
"Yield," I ordered, my voice hard. "Now!"
Hookwolf's maddened struggles only grew more fierce.
"So be it," I hissed. I reached out into the Unseen. As I had with Noelle, I found the barb where the Child of Ungoliant had anchored itself into the mortal man. I seized it, twisted, and pulled.
Hookwolf wailed in agony. Razorblades and twisted wire scattered from him like rain from the coat of a dog. The crystal under my fingers warmed and morphed, softening into human flesh. Brutus recoiled as the metal under its paws shattered like glass, fragments sprinkling in all directions. In the middle of a circle of blades and points, Hookwolf staggered on all fours, bleeding from a thousand cuts, some shallow, some deeper. He took one step, then two, his hands and knees growing still bloodier as they landed on sharp steel. Then at last he fell, leaving a streak of crimson on the asphalt as his side struck the street. For a moment he struggled, his hands clawing at the air above him. Then they fell to his sides, and he was still, his naked, hairy chest heaving.
I stood up and sheathed Sunrise. The sharp sound as it slid into the scabbard seemed to rouse Bitch from a daze. She looked at me sidelong through narrowed eyes as her hound pawed at its wounded snout. "What did you do?"
"I took his power away," I said, waving at a nearby PRT trooper who was fixing handcuffs onto an Empire ganger. He caught my eye and nodded when I gestured down at Hookwolf. He finished securing the ganger, then started coming our way, pulling out a containment foam canister.
"That's fucked," Bitch said succinctly.
"Only way to disable him without killing him," I said. "At least once he'd successfully transformed."
"Sorry I didn't tranq him earlier," Sophia said, coming up beside me. "I tried, but he was already transforming as soon as you busted in."
I nodded. "I half expected as much."
She glanced at me. "If I'd gone in first…"
"Then he might have been able to keep his power, at the cost of increased risk to you," I said, meeting her eyes. "His power wasn't worth that to me."
She looked away.
"So, what now?" Bitch asked, glaring down at me. "You gonna try and take me in?"
I raised my eyebrow at her. "If you thought I was going to do that, why did you come?"
"Had to make sure." She spat down on Hookwolf's prone form, which was already half-covered with foam. "Asshole needed to be put down."
"And that was worth being captured?"
She just continued glaring at me without answering.
I sighed. "I'm not taking you in just after you helped us. It's not like I can't find you if you commit a major crime. You're safe for tonight."
She nodded, still looking wary. She whistled, and her dog turned, padding down the street.
"Feel free to say hello to Fume while you're here," I called after her. "He should be in that direction."
She didn't respond verbally, though I saw her shoulders tense. As I looked after her, I saw her turn aside in the direction of her former teammate.
"Sure it's a good idea to let her go?" Sophia asked.
"I'm not a fan of punishing people for doing a good deed," I said, turning away. "Come on—let's get going. Some of these gangers will need medical attention."
And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.
-x-x-x-
The wind whispered around me as I crept along the balcony. The only light in the deserted street below streamed from the windows of the ground floor. A muffled clinking of glasses and nervous laughter could be heard within.
Carefully I slid open one of the second-story windows, and slipped inside a hallway, closing the entrance behind me. "I'm in," I murmured into my radio.
"On my way," came Sophia's voice. "We're sure this is the place?"
"Absolutely," confirmed Dragon. "Hookwolf's dogfighting ring is in the cellar."
"I can't believe they didn't call it off," I said. "Kaiser's feeling a bit cocky, isn't he?"
"I'm not sure Kaiser was involved," Dragon said. "The crowd tonight is mostly Hookwolf's inner group, not the usual blend from across the Empire's organization. I have a feeling this is happening in spite of Kaiser's concerns."
"Never thought I'd be jumping at the chance to prove Kaiser right," Sophia growled.
"He'll get his turn," I promised, padding silently down the hallway towards the elevators and the stairwell. "Aegis, is your team in position?"
"Yep," Aegis reported. "Vista's in position to deliver us right to their front door whenever you give the word."
"Great." I said as I quietly opened the door to the stairway and slipped inside. "Dragon, how are things with the Protectorate?" The sound of my voice, even at a whisper, echoed painfully inside the concrete walls.
"Armsmaster is currently chasing down an Empire smuggler, and Assault and Battery just captured a couple of thugs harassing a black family in the old Merchant territory," Dragon reported. "The rest of the Protectorate is on active patrol. It's going to be a long night."
"It's going to be longer for the Empire," I promised, gripping the stairway's metal railing. "Okay. Shadow Stalker, where are you now?"
"By the cellar window in the alley," Sophia said. "It's barred and shuttered, but I don't see any sign of an electrical current. I should be good to breach."
"Okay. Wait for the signal."
"You never told me the signal."
I smiled. "You'll know."
I swung my legs over the railing and leapt down. The two-story drop whispered by, and my boots touched down with an echoing clack as I hit the bottom. Through the frosted glass pane in the door to the cellar, I could see indistinct figures moving. Laughter and jeering echoed from inside, alongside the yelps of angry and wounded hounds.
I stood up, stretched, and crossed to the door. With a single, brutal kick, I splintered the wood around the latch. The door swung wide open, slamming against the adjacent wall. Silence instantly fell in the room beyond, and I was greeted by the sight of—I took a moment to count—two dozen assorted skinheads, men and women alike, staring at me with wide eyes.
There were cages in the middle of the room, and the floor beneath them was slick with blood. Dogs which had been rattling furiously at the bars, snarling and baying, now stared silently at me. Above them, overlooking them like a throne, was a great seat of metal and wire, and on it sat a thickset man painted with tattoos, a mask on his face in the shape of a snarling wolf.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," I said, drawing Sunrise, lighting the room with a pale orange glow. "I'm afraid the party's over."
Guns emerged from belts, holsters, and bags, but I was already moving. I dove forward, driving the hilt of Sunrise into the belly of one ganger. I felt something give—hopefully not his spine—and he was thrown backwards with a scream, bowling over several of his compatriots. Bullets sailed past me, but I was already moving again.
Sunrise was a whirlwind of shimmering black and silver as I wove among them. Bullets pinged harmlessly off of the alloy, or glanced off of my armor. I struck no one with my blade; I dealt no lethal blows. That did not mean I was gentle. Bones broke in my grip, joints snapped under blows from the flat or the hilt of my sword, blood flowed from beneath my fists.
And then Sophia was at my back, tranquilizer bolts spreading from her in a fan. Darkness cloaked her, smoke shadow pouring over my shoulders as she phased, neither fully material nor entirely shadow.
"Some signal," she growled, barely audible over the staccato of gunfire and the orchestra of screaming Nazis.
"I told you you'd know," I said, turning my head back to give her a wink.
She narrowed her eyes at me. Then they widened. "Move!"
I already was, and she quickly dissolved into mist. Not a moment too soon, as the metal barbs that comprised Hookwolf's body sailed through the space we'd been in. He howled, a sound neither human nor animal, the sharp points of his limbs sending sparks up as he turned on a dime. His eyes practically glowed as he glared at me.
I cracked my neck. The gunfire had mostly stopped by now—those gangers who could move were running up the stairs, and those who could not lay curled and groaning, cradling whatever part of their bodies I had mangled. "I did warn you," I told Hookwolf, rotating Sunrise idly in my grip.
He bared his teeth—blades that were as long as shortswords. The sound that emerged was halfway between a wolf's snarl and a man's furious bellow.
I could show him what a real werewolf is capable of. The thought bubbled up from some deep place in my heart. Sunrise grew cold under my fingers. My tongue snaked out, unbidden, to lick my lips. After all, it wouldn't even be wrong. He's a beast. He's vile. He deserves it. He's been lashing out at man and beast alike for years. Let him taste his own poison.
Then Sophia was beside me, Amauril in her hands. The sword lit the room, and Sunrise warmed again in my hand. "Why don't we take this outside, big boy?" she taunted, a sneer on her lips.
Hookwolf screeched and dove for us. We separated, darting around him and dashing for the stairs. I heard the scraping as he spun around. Sophia phased through the broken door, swinging loose on its hinges. I pulled it aside a moment later, just in time to see the trail of shadow she left behind her as she sailed upwards. She solidified on the landing one floor up, reaching down, her hand open. "Come on!" she shouted.
I jumped, grabbing her hand as my feet caught the very edge of the landing. She swung me up, over the railing, just as Hookwolf burst through the masonry of the wall behind me. "Go!" I shouted, and we went.
This was the plan. Drive the Empire out into the open, where the rest of the Wards could close around them. Hookwolf was no exception to that plan. In fact, he was its most vital target.
We dove out of the building's front door just as Hookwolf exploded onto the ground floor. The Empire was scattered—I could see several pockets being contained by the other Wards and a few PRT troopers with containment foam. But all that was secondary to what was right in front of us.
"Out of the way," growled the girl atop the massive hound. Bitch wasn't bothering with the mask anymore, probably because she no longer had a team to keep happy. She looked for all the world like an ordinary teenage girl, if a little stocky and ruddy, dressed in ratty jeans and a t-shirt. The lizardlike dog-creature she rode on chuffed at me, its breath staining the air around me with a faint, rank scent.
"What—" Sophia began, but Bitch ignored her, whistling to the dog beneath her. I grabbed Sophia and pulled her aside just in time.
Bitch charged. Hookwolf met her halfway. They met in a cloud of debris and crumbling stonework as he dove through the wall. The two twisted creatures snarled and tore into one another, biting and clawing in a primal ritual of dominance and hate.
But only one was bleeding. Bitch's beast might have been unnaturally powerful and resilient, but Hookwolf was made of metal. There was a reason he was considered one of the most powerful capes in the Bay—he had no obvious weaknesses.
That wasn't going to stop me.
"Hold him down, Bitch!" I shouted, shifting my grip on Sunrise.
"Brutus, hold!" she barked, and the dog obeyed. It sank its teeth into the wiry tangle of Hookwolf's neck and shoved its weight down onto him. Blood sprayed from its mouth as the flesh was pierced, but Hookwolf was forced into stillness, struggling and throwing himself against the hound.
I rushed forward. Sunrise trailed behind me in my double-handed grip. Hookwolf's eyes flickered to me—and there it was. The fear, glittering in his eyes like reflected firelight. I bared my teeth and drank it in. Then I leapt. The sword rose behind me, and I brought my weight down with it as I fell. It sheared deep into the metal—but no blood emerged, and though Hookwolf yelped, it seemed a sound of surprise more than pain.
I pulled the sword out and reached into the gash it had left. My fingers peeled away at the overgrowth of blades—and then I felt it. A surface of smooth crystal, radiating icy cold through the metal. As I touched it, Hookwolf screamed, thrashing in a frenzy, primal terror and pain shocking through him as the Shard's panic reverberated in the very mind of its host.
"Yield," I ordered, my voice hard. "Now!"
Hookwolf's maddened struggles only grew more fierce.
"So be it," I hissed. I reached out into the Unseen. As I had with Noelle, I found the barb where the Child of Ungoliant had anchored itself into the mortal man. I seized it, twisted, and pulled.
Hookwolf wailed in agony. Razorblades and twisted wire scattered from him like rain from the coat of a dog. The crystal under my fingers warmed and morphed, softening into human flesh. Brutus recoiled as the metal under its paws shattered like glass, fragments sprinkling in all directions. In the middle of a circle of blades and points, Hookwolf staggered on all fours, bleeding from a thousand cuts, some shallow, some deeper. He took one step, then two, his hands and knees growing still bloodier as they landed on sharp steel. Then at last he fell, leaving a streak of crimson on the asphalt as his side struck the street. For a moment he struggled, his hands clawing at the air above him. Then they fell to his sides, and he was still, his naked, hairy chest heaving.
I stood up and sheathed Sunrise. The sharp sound as it slid into the scabbard seemed to rouse Bitch from a daze. She looked at me sidelong through narrowed eyes as her hound pawed at its wounded snout. "What did you do?"
"I took his power away," I said, waving at a nearby PRT trooper who was fixing handcuffs onto an Empire ganger. He caught my eye and nodded when I gestured down at Hookwolf. He finished securing the ganger, then started coming our way, pulling out a containment foam canister.
"That's fucked," Bitch said succinctly.
"Only way to disable him without killing him," I said. "At least once he'd successfully transformed."
"Sorry I didn't tranq him earlier," Sophia said, coming up beside me. "I tried, but he was already transforming as soon as you busted in."
I nodded. "I half expected as much."
She glanced at me. "If I'd gone in first…"
"Then he might have been able to keep his power, at the cost of increased risk to you," I said, meeting her eyes. "His power wasn't worth that to me."
She looked away.
"So, what now?" Bitch asked, glaring down at me. "You gonna try and take me in?"
I raised my eyebrow at her. "If you thought I was going to do that, why did you come?"
"Had to make sure." She spat down on Hookwolf's prone form, which was already half-covered with foam. "Asshole needed to be put down."
"And that was worth being captured?"
She just continued glaring at me without answering.
I sighed. "I'm not taking you in just after you helped us. It's not like I can't find you if you commit a major crime. You're safe for tonight."
She nodded, still looking wary. She whistled, and her dog turned, padding down the street.
"Feel free to say hello to Fume while you're here," I called after her. "He should be in that direction."
She didn't respond verbally, though I saw her shoulders tense. As I looked after her, I saw her turn aside in the direction of her former teammate.
"Sure it's a good idea to let her go?" Sophia asked.
"I'm not a fan of punishing people for doing a good deed," I said, turning away. "Come on—let's get going. Some of these gangers will need medical attention."
And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.
-x-x-x-
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
Please also consider supporting Wildbow's Patreon, and purchasing the original works of J. R. R. Tolkien.
Please also consider supporting Wildbow's Patreon, and purchasing the original works of J. R. R. Tolkien.
- Location
- United States
*cackling*
And so, the Long Night begins...
And so, the Long Night begins...
JuliusClonkus
Scatterbrained Speculator
- Location
- Federal Reichspublic of Karlsland
Can't wait to see the reactions when people realize Taylor can't just kill you, but that she can also strip you of your powers.
I don't think that's publicly known yet. After she's done with the Empire, think someone's going to ask her to pull out the Butcher's Teeth or something?
I don't think that's publicly known yet. After she's done with the Empire, think someone's going to ask her to pull out the Butcher's Teeth or something?
Timerider
That guy who really should get out more.
- Location
- The End of the World.
This right here.
It showcases perfectly that, even though Taylor has committed to being a noble person again, she still struggles with her darker urges.
Her ability to remove powers will likely make her even more feared by the supervillian community then she was when she killed. Death is something they face constantly. They're used to it. But the idea of being make weak and helpless is a special kind of terror.
Finagle007
[Verified Great Old One]
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Good work, Sophia... and I can't believe I just said that.
- Location
- United States
Get used to it, my dude. I've been saying that for a long time.
- Location
- United States
So! Lithos, in a PM convo, revealed that there will indeed be a resolution to the Taylor/Sophia teasing!
Even better, if all goes according to plan, it should be within just two more arcs!
I was granted permission to tell you this, so don't jump on me
Even better, if all goes according to plan, it should be within just two more arcs!
I was granted permission to tell you this, so don't jump on me
So! Lithos, in a PM convo, revealed that there will indeed be a resolution to the Taylor/Sophia teasing!
Even better, if all goes according to plan, it should be within just two more arcs!
I was granted permission to tell you this, so don't jump on me
I think this is a good thing. I also hope for more updates soon...
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Yeah, sorry. I've mentioned it on SpaceBattles, but I suffered an injury while skiing a few weeks ago and my left thumb is currently in a cast, making typing more difficult. I'm still working on the story, but it's slower going.
Arcane Howitzer
Serial Arcanist
- Location
- United States
I have finally caught up with this story, and all I can say is: You certainly don't dream small, do you? Not only are you trying to redeem Sauron, to whom most Evil Overlords of the past twenty years can trace at least some inspiration, you're simultaneously shipping Taylor and Sophia, perhaps the third most unlikely pairing in fanfiction I've seen to date (numbers one and two are Smaug X Princess Celestia and Twilight Sparkle X Dr. Nefarious, in case you were wondering).
And from this foundation of impossibilities you have built, and continue to build, a masterpiece easily comparable to Tolkien himself. I mean, maybe you're not quite his equal (yet), but the comparison is there and you're certainly a lot closer than many of the authors whom I've still thoroughly enjoyed.
Looking forward to more, and particularly looking forward to what happens with the Nine. And before you ask which Nine I mean: Yes.
And from this foundation of impossibilities you have built, and continue to build, a masterpiece easily comparable to Tolkien himself. I mean, maybe you're not quite his equal (yet), but the comparison is there and you're certainly a lot closer than many of the authors whom I've still thoroughly enjoyed.
Looking forward to more, and particularly looking forward to what happens with the Nine. And before you ask which Nine I mean: Yes.
- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
I regret not being able to give you an Insightful rating as well, so have your damned hug. ^^
- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
This is a bit off-topic, but is anyone else having a bit of a 'like issue'? I can't give someone a Hug rating on this thread anymore, but other threads don't seem to be affected. o,o
- Location
- The Middle of the Howling Wilderness
Yeah, I can't give hug ratings in this thread either anymore. Weird.
- Location
- not here any more
Confirmed, also having this issue. Guess it's time to head toward Forum Technical Support.
BlackLantern2814
Hello darkness my old friend.
- Location
- Earth
Fourthed for the hug bug.
That is a really weird bug.
- Location
- not here any more
Seems to be intentional for a yet-unknown reason.
- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
Great, not only did we loose the Hug rating, now we need a Confused rating.
Dantalion
Insight: 362
- Location
- A Guest Room at the Brass Embassy, dying of Frenzy
- Pronouns
- Any
Or at the very least, superuser error rather than system error.
Radiant 13.2
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @BeaconHill, @GlassGirlCeci, and @dwood15 for betareading.
Dawn was fast approaching as the last van wheeled back into the Rig. From my perch on a balcony overlooking the garage, I watched the troopers file out, yawning drowsily and clumsily stripping away their Kevlar and plating. My knees were drawn up to my chest, hands curled loosely around them as I considered the movement below.
Footfalls rang against the metal platform behind me, and Carlos sat down beside me, his legs swinging over the edge. "You all right, Taylor?"
My eyes darted over to his face, though my head didn't move. He'd changed out of his costume, and his nut-brown forehead was furrowed with concern. "We did well tonight," I said.
"Yeah," he agreed, still looking troubled. "Took down Hookwolf and a few dozen Nazis. So why are you up here on your own?"
I shrugged, looking back down at the garage. "Just… uncertain."
"About what?"
I sighed. "It's really nothing. I'm just feeling broody, I guess."
He paused for a moment. "If it's bugging you, I'm happy to listen," he said.
"I appreciate it," I said. My mind wandered back to a few hours before.
"If I'd gone in first…"
"Then he might have been able to keep his power, at the cost of increased risk to you," I said, meeting her eyes. "His power wasn't worth that to me."
She looked away.
Sophia's expression flickered in my mind's eye. In that one moment, she had been unreadable, even to me. "Do you think…" I began aloud, then trailed off, staring down at the garage.
"Do I think what?"
I blinked. "Never mind—what's going on down there?"
The troopers were unloading something out of the back of the van. No—someone. Two someones—a man and a woman, both glowering impotently at the PRT officers leading them, handcuffed, toward the holding cells.
Carlos followed my gaze. "Prisoners, I guess?"
"The Empire mooks were taken to the jail," I said. "Why are these two here?"
Carlos glanced at me. "And more importantly, why weren't you told?"
I pursed my lips. It was… unsettling, to remember just how much sway I now held in the local PRT/Protectorate hierarchy. Thinking about it always reminded me of how I'd seized that power. But I couldn't ignore Carlos' point. "I'm going to find Piggot," I decided, reaching up to the handrail and pulling myself to my feet. "Or Dragon. Either of them should know what's going on."
"You want me to come?"
I shook my head, smiling slightly at him as he floated to his feet. "No, you get some sleep. We have another operation tomorrow. Or, well, today. You need your rest."
"So do y—" he paused, then chuckled sheepishly. "Oh. Right."
I laughed. "Go to bed, Carlos. I'll wake you if anything happens."
"Okay. Later, Taylor." He drifted back to the ground and strode off towards a door.
I turned away, grabbed the handrail in both hands, and swung under it, dropping towards the floor twenty feet below. I struck the concrete with barely a sound, though several troopers around the room started at my sudden appearance. With a nod to a few of them, I followed after the two prisoners.
They'd gone down a corridor towards the elevators. By the time I arrived, they had already taken it down to the cells, but two other people were standing beside the closed doors.
"Director," I called, drawing their attention. "Sam. Shouldn't you both be asleep?"
Piggot gave me a faint, dry smile. "Believe me, An—Taylor, that's my next stop. Just…" She glanced at Sam. "Some last business to take care of."
I raised an eyebrow. "What sort of business?"
She grimaced, her eyes on Sam. "It's…"
"Long story," he interrupted. His eyes weren't quite meeting mine. "It's… it's not a problem. Just something I have to figure out."
"Can I help?"
He started to shake his head. "No…" Then he stopped, hesitated. "Maybe," he allowed, glancing at Piggot, then back at me. "Yeah, uh…" The elevator doors opened behind him as he hesitated. The chime startled him, but as he turned back to me his face was set. "Yeah," he said. "Can you come down with me? We should talk."
I nodded, walking forward. "Is this about the prisoners?"
"Yes," Piggot said, looking from Sam to me and back again. "You sure about this, Browbeat? If you want, I can…"
"I'm sure," he said firmly, holding the door for me. "Thanks, Director."
She nodded and watched as the doors shut behind us.
Sam pressed the button for the first sub-basement and the elevator began sinking. Then he leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, and looked down at his feet.
I mirrored him on the opposite wall. "So, what's up?"
He glanced up at me, then looked away again. "I'm sorry I haven't told you all this before," he said after a time, during which the elevator passed the basement. "It's… not something I like to talk about. I'm not proud of it."
"I can empathize." As the doors slid open, I held my hand out to hold them. "After you."
He walked past me into the lobby, and I followed him. The room was largely bare, except for a few uncomfortable metal benches along one wall, and a fenced-off desk on the other side where a bored-looking officer was shuffling papers.
Sam went up to the desk. "Browbeat here to see the new prisoners," he said.
The guy looked up. His expression sharpened with interest. "Right, yeah," he said. "They're being taken to cell block D. Minimum security, what with them not being capes. If you go now, you might be able to catch them in processing."
"We'll take our time, but thanks." Sam turned and led me through a door labeled with a capital 'D' painted on the metal.
As it shut behind us, he stopped and turned to me. "You've probably already figured out what this is about," he said.
I gave him a small smile. "The prisoners. Family of yours? Friends?"
"My parents." He looked away again, his eyes fixed on the wall beside us. "The Keene family is pretty closely related to some of Empire's big names," he said. "Or so I've heard—I was never old enough or important enough to know the civilian IDs of the capes."
A great many things were coming together in my head. "I can't imagine that made for a pleasant childhood," I said quietly.
He chuckled hollowly. "You'd be surprised." He cleared his throat. "They were… good to me," he said. "They weren't distant, or violent, or neglectful, or abusive in any way, really. To them, there wasn't any conflict there. And there wasn't for me, either. Not for a long time."
"You were a child," I said gently. "Children learn from their parents. It's not your fault."
"I know." He met my eyes. "I'm proud of where I am," he said quietly. "It's been hard. I've… I've lost things. But I pulled myself out of that, and I'm proud of it." He sighed and looked away again.
"What started it?" I asked. "Was there a moment when you realized something was wrong?"
His lips twisted. "It's a cliché, but…" He huffed a dry, mirthless smile. "The moment I started wondering was when I realized I was a lot less interested in sneaking glances at the girls' locker room than I was in hanging out in the guys'."
"That would do it, yeah."
"It didn't, though. Not by itself." He swallowed visibly. "I thought I was going crazy, I thought something was wrong with me. I doubled down. I made fun of other guys for being gay. I got a girlfriend. I threw myself into football, did everything I could to be… masculine, I guess."
"And nothing worked, of course."
"Of course," he agreed dryly. "And everything changed when…" He stopped. Chewed his tongue for a moment. Started again. "His name was Jackson," he said quietly. "He was on the football team with me. Thoughtful, funny, gorgeous… and black.
"I tried to push him away. He wasn't having it. He wasn't like you, but he saw right through my shit. And eventually I couldn't keep lying to myself."
I had a feeling that if this Jackson was still around, I'd have met or heard of him by now. "What happened to him?"
Sam hugged himself, and in spite of his broad shoulders and thick arms, he looked as small as Missy in that moment. "I don't know how the Empire found out," he said. "They didn't even talk to me. Never said a word. I just came to school one day and Jackson was gone. I should have figured it out when my parents asked if anything had been different at school that day, but I didn't get it until the news broke the next day. Some Empire recruit had been sent after a high school football player for his initiation. They caught the recruit, but not before he'd done what he came to do."
"I'm so sorry, Sam."
He nodded woodenly, looking down at the floor. His cheeks were dry. "My parents never mentioned it again after that hint, the first day," he said. "And I didn't, either. I just… shut down. Closed off. I wasn't sure if I hated them or myself. I didn't know what to do. The world just didn't make sense anymore." He glanced up at me. "You know what my trigger was?"
"Not that?"
"Not right away." He breathed out heavily—not so much a sigh as a purging of air. "I don't think I was suicidal," he said quietly. "I don't… it wasn't that deliberate. I was on a boat—a yacht, really—at an event with my parents. Probably an Empire hangout. And I was just looking over the side, at the bay. It was the middle of winter. And I just thought—what if I jumped? What would happen? Would my parents miss me? Would they be relieved? Would things be normal again, if I wasn't a part of them? It wasn't really a decision. It was a moment of morbid curiosity, and before I knew it, I was in the water. When I woke up, I was in a hospital, and my cousin was trying to sell me on joining the Empire. They knew I'd triggered—there must have been a cape on the boat."
"And did you?"
"I played along for a couple days, then ran away and joined the Wards the moment I had a chance." He looked up at me with a wan smile. "Triggers are horrible," he said, "but in my case it was the end of a horrible part of my life. It shook things up. It made me look at things, really look at them. And I realized that I was never going to be an Empire kid again, even if I wanted to. And I didn't. They'd—they'd killed Jackson. I hadn't really let myself think that before, but once I did—I hated them. And that was what let me break away."
I studied him. His eyes were dry, clear and hard like burnished bronze. Though his posture was still small and vulnerable, there was steel in his spine now. "Thank you for telling me," I said quietly. "Have you seen your parents since then?"
"Not really," he said. "I think I caught glimpses of them, at Empire events, once or twice. Never went face to face with them or talked to them. I'm not even certain they know I'm Browbeat. Probably do."
"And now they're here."
"Yeah. When Piggot realized, she had them transferred here. Thought I should at least have a chance to talk to them without making it a thing for the whole jail to talk about, if I wanted to."
"And… do you?"
He snorted. "That's where you come in. Taylor—do I?"
I blinked. "You're asking me?"
"You're the one with super-empathy. Everything's mixed up in my head. I hate the Empire now, and I loved my parents once. Where does that leave my parents now? I don't know how I feel about all this. Do I need closure? Do I even want it? Can they give it, even if I do?" His voice rose almost hysterically as the questions flooded out, but at the last one he gritted his teeth, swallowed, and deflated. "I don't know what to do, Taylor."
I reached out and pulled him into a hug. "Sam," I said quietly. "It's six in the morning, you've been up all night, and you've gone from a cape fight to pouring your heart out in under six hours. I'll tell you what you should do—get some sleep. Your parents will still be here this afternoon if you decide you want to talk to them. They'll keep."
He chuckled roughly, his arms closing around me. "Not sure I can sleep right now," he said.
"Try?" I asked. "Please. For me. You're in no condition for a really heavy conversation right now. Get some rest, please."
"…I was kind of hoping you would help me," he said quietly. "Help me find the right words, help me say the right things."
"You told me you were proud of how far you'd come, of who you'd become," I said. "If you want to do this—you can. You, not me."
He let out a shuddering breath in my arms. "Okay. Thank you, Taylor."
"Thank you, Sam." I pulled away. "Go get some sleep. If you want to talk to me, I'll be here when you wake up. Well," I added, glancing out at the concrete corridor. "Not here. On the Rig."
"Got it," he said with a chuckle. "I'll see you in a few hours, Taylor."
"Good night, Sam."
-x-x-x-
Dawn was fast approaching as the last van wheeled back into the Rig. From my perch on a balcony overlooking the garage, I watched the troopers file out, yawning drowsily and clumsily stripping away their Kevlar and plating. My knees were drawn up to my chest, hands curled loosely around them as I considered the movement below.
Footfalls rang against the metal platform behind me, and Carlos sat down beside me, his legs swinging over the edge. "You all right, Taylor?"
My eyes darted over to his face, though my head didn't move. He'd changed out of his costume, and his nut-brown forehead was furrowed with concern. "We did well tonight," I said.
"Yeah," he agreed, still looking troubled. "Took down Hookwolf and a few dozen Nazis. So why are you up here on your own?"
I shrugged, looking back down at the garage. "Just… uncertain."
"About what?"
I sighed. "It's really nothing. I'm just feeling broody, I guess."
He paused for a moment. "If it's bugging you, I'm happy to listen," he said.
"I appreciate it," I said. My mind wandered back to a few hours before.
"If I'd gone in first…"
"Then he might have been able to keep his power, at the cost of increased risk to you," I said, meeting her eyes. "His power wasn't worth that to me."
She looked away.
Sophia's expression flickered in my mind's eye. In that one moment, she had been unreadable, even to me. "Do you think…" I began aloud, then trailed off, staring down at the garage.
"Do I think what?"
I blinked. "Never mind—what's going on down there?"
The troopers were unloading something out of the back of the van. No—someone. Two someones—a man and a woman, both glowering impotently at the PRT officers leading them, handcuffed, toward the holding cells.
Carlos followed my gaze. "Prisoners, I guess?"
"The Empire mooks were taken to the jail," I said. "Why are these two here?"
Carlos glanced at me. "And more importantly, why weren't you told?"
I pursed my lips. It was… unsettling, to remember just how much sway I now held in the local PRT/Protectorate hierarchy. Thinking about it always reminded me of how I'd seized that power. But I couldn't ignore Carlos' point. "I'm going to find Piggot," I decided, reaching up to the handrail and pulling myself to my feet. "Or Dragon. Either of them should know what's going on."
"You want me to come?"
I shook my head, smiling slightly at him as he floated to his feet. "No, you get some sleep. We have another operation tomorrow. Or, well, today. You need your rest."
"So do y—" he paused, then chuckled sheepishly. "Oh. Right."
I laughed. "Go to bed, Carlos. I'll wake you if anything happens."
"Okay. Later, Taylor." He drifted back to the ground and strode off towards a door.
I turned away, grabbed the handrail in both hands, and swung under it, dropping towards the floor twenty feet below. I struck the concrete with barely a sound, though several troopers around the room started at my sudden appearance. With a nod to a few of them, I followed after the two prisoners.
They'd gone down a corridor towards the elevators. By the time I arrived, they had already taken it down to the cells, but two other people were standing beside the closed doors.
"Director," I called, drawing their attention. "Sam. Shouldn't you both be asleep?"
Piggot gave me a faint, dry smile. "Believe me, An—Taylor, that's my next stop. Just…" She glanced at Sam. "Some last business to take care of."
I raised an eyebrow. "What sort of business?"
She grimaced, her eyes on Sam. "It's…"
"Long story," he interrupted. His eyes weren't quite meeting mine. "It's… it's not a problem. Just something I have to figure out."
"Can I help?"
He started to shake his head. "No…" Then he stopped, hesitated. "Maybe," he allowed, glancing at Piggot, then back at me. "Yeah, uh…" The elevator doors opened behind him as he hesitated. The chime startled him, but as he turned back to me his face was set. "Yeah," he said. "Can you come down with me? We should talk."
I nodded, walking forward. "Is this about the prisoners?"
"Yes," Piggot said, looking from Sam to me and back again. "You sure about this, Browbeat? If you want, I can…"
"I'm sure," he said firmly, holding the door for me. "Thanks, Director."
She nodded and watched as the doors shut behind us.
Sam pressed the button for the first sub-basement and the elevator began sinking. Then he leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, and looked down at his feet.
I mirrored him on the opposite wall. "So, what's up?"
He glanced up at me, then looked away again. "I'm sorry I haven't told you all this before," he said after a time, during which the elevator passed the basement. "It's… not something I like to talk about. I'm not proud of it."
"I can empathize." As the doors slid open, I held my hand out to hold them. "After you."
He walked past me into the lobby, and I followed him. The room was largely bare, except for a few uncomfortable metal benches along one wall, and a fenced-off desk on the other side where a bored-looking officer was shuffling papers.
Sam went up to the desk. "Browbeat here to see the new prisoners," he said.
The guy looked up. His expression sharpened with interest. "Right, yeah," he said. "They're being taken to cell block D. Minimum security, what with them not being capes. If you go now, you might be able to catch them in processing."
"We'll take our time, but thanks." Sam turned and led me through a door labeled with a capital 'D' painted on the metal.
As it shut behind us, he stopped and turned to me. "You've probably already figured out what this is about," he said.
I gave him a small smile. "The prisoners. Family of yours? Friends?"
"My parents." He looked away again, his eyes fixed on the wall beside us. "The Keene family is pretty closely related to some of Empire's big names," he said. "Or so I've heard—I was never old enough or important enough to know the civilian IDs of the capes."
A great many things were coming together in my head. "I can't imagine that made for a pleasant childhood," I said quietly.
He chuckled hollowly. "You'd be surprised." He cleared his throat. "They were… good to me," he said. "They weren't distant, or violent, or neglectful, or abusive in any way, really. To them, there wasn't any conflict there. And there wasn't for me, either. Not for a long time."
"You were a child," I said gently. "Children learn from their parents. It's not your fault."
"I know." He met my eyes. "I'm proud of where I am," he said quietly. "It's been hard. I've… I've lost things. But I pulled myself out of that, and I'm proud of it." He sighed and looked away again.
"What started it?" I asked. "Was there a moment when you realized something was wrong?"
His lips twisted. "It's a cliché, but…" He huffed a dry, mirthless smile. "The moment I started wondering was when I realized I was a lot less interested in sneaking glances at the girls' locker room than I was in hanging out in the guys'."
"That would do it, yeah."
"It didn't, though. Not by itself." He swallowed visibly. "I thought I was going crazy, I thought something was wrong with me. I doubled down. I made fun of other guys for being gay. I got a girlfriend. I threw myself into football, did everything I could to be… masculine, I guess."
"And nothing worked, of course."
"Of course," he agreed dryly. "And everything changed when…" He stopped. Chewed his tongue for a moment. Started again. "His name was Jackson," he said quietly. "He was on the football team with me. Thoughtful, funny, gorgeous… and black.
"I tried to push him away. He wasn't having it. He wasn't like you, but he saw right through my shit. And eventually I couldn't keep lying to myself."
I had a feeling that if this Jackson was still around, I'd have met or heard of him by now. "What happened to him?"
Sam hugged himself, and in spite of his broad shoulders and thick arms, he looked as small as Missy in that moment. "I don't know how the Empire found out," he said. "They didn't even talk to me. Never said a word. I just came to school one day and Jackson was gone. I should have figured it out when my parents asked if anything had been different at school that day, but I didn't get it until the news broke the next day. Some Empire recruit had been sent after a high school football player for his initiation. They caught the recruit, but not before he'd done what he came to do."
"I'm so sorry, Sam."
He nodded woodenly, looking down at the floor. His cheeks were dry. "My parents never mentioned it again after that hint, the first day," he said. "And I didn't, either. I just… shut down. Closed off. I wasn't sure if I hated them or myself. I didn't know what to do. The world just didn't make sense anymore." He glanced up at me. "You know what my trigger was?"
"Not that?"
"Not right away." He breathed out heavily—not so much a sigh as a purging of air. "I don't think I was suicidal," he said quietly. "I don't… it wasn't that deliberate. I was on a boat—a yacht, really—at an event with my parents. Probably an Empire hangout. And I was just looking over the side, at the bay. It was the middle of winter. And I just thought—what if I jumped? What would happen? Would my parents miss me? Would they be relieved? Would things be normal again, if I wasn't a part of them? It wasn't really a decision. It was a moment of morbid curiosity, and before I knew it, I was in the water. When I woke up, I was in a hospital, and my cousin was trying to sell me on joining the Empire. They knew I'd triggered—there must have been a cape on the boat."
"And did you?"
"I played along for a couple days, then ran away and joined the Wards the moment I had a chance." He looked up at me with a wan smile. "Triggers are horrible," he said, "but in my case it was the end of a horrible part of my life. It shook things up. It made me look at things, really look at them. And I realized that I was never going to be an Empire kid again, even if I wanted to. And I didn't. They'd—they'd killed Jackson. I hadn't really let myself think that before, but once I did—I hated them. And that was what let me break away."
I studied him. His eyes were dry, clear and hard like burnished bronze. Though his posture was still small and vulnerable, there was steel in his spine now. "Thank you for telling me," I said quietly. "Have you seen your parents since then?"
"Not really," he said. "I think I caught glimpses of them, at Empire events, once or twice. Never went face to face with them or talked to them. I'm not even certain they know I'm Browbeat. Probably do."
"And now they're here."
"Yeah. When Piggot realized, she had them transferred here. Thought I should at least have a chance to talk to them without making it a thing for the whole jail to talk about, if I wanted to."
"And… do you?"
He snorted. "That's where you come in. Taylor—do I?"
I blinked. "You're asking me?"
"You're the one with super-empathy. Everything's mixed up in my head. I hate the Empire now, and I loved my parents once. Where does that leave my parents now? I don't know how I feel about all this. Do I need closure? Do I even want it? Can they give it, even if I do?" His voice rose almost hysterically as the questions flooded out, but at the last one he gritted his teeth, swallowed, and deflated. "I don't know what to do, Taylor."
I reached out and pulled him into a hug. "Sam," I said quietly. "It's six in the morning, you've been up all night, and you've gone from a cape fight to pouring your heart out in under six hours. I'll tell you what you should do—get some sleep. Your parents will still be here this afternoon if you decide you want to talk to them. They'll keep."
He chuckled roughly, his arms closing around me. "Not sure I can sleep right now," he said.
"Try?" I asked. "Please. For me. You're in no condition for a really heavy conversation right now. Get some rest, please."
"…I was kind of hoping you would help me," he said quietly. "Help me find the right words, help me say the right things."
"You told me you were proud of how far you'd come, of who you'd become," I said. "If you want to do this—you can. You, not me."
He let out a shuddering breath in my arms. "Okay. Thank you, Taylor."
"Thank you, Sam." I pulled away. "Go get some sleep. If you want to talk to me, I'll be here when you wake up. Well," I added, glancing out at the concrete corridor. "Not here. On the Rig."
"Got it," he said with a chuckle. "I'll see you in a few hours, Taylor."
"Good night, Sam."
-x-x-x-
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- Location
- NY
- Pronouns
- Ve/Ver/Vis
It took me a minute to remember who "Sam" is; I'm used to seeing that name assigned to Battery, not Browbeat.
I liked seeing Taylor having to consider how much oversight she ought to have; anomalous prisoner movement could be something bad, but it could also be something authorized that's just not her business. I think she made good choices here, but I do wanna see people pushing back on her being inquisitive in the future.
I liked seeing Taylor having to consider how much oversight she ought to have; anomalous prisoner movement could be something bad, but it could also be something authorized that's just not her business. I think she made good choices here, but I do wanna see people pushing back on her being inquisitive in the future.