ScatheAriiasqDrayceon
Just cause I read worse don't mean it ain't cursed
The two intros:
Literally everything else:
Writing examples:
Hello! My name is Flame, but you can call me whatever you like. I'm here to roleplay, have fun, and maybe make a few friends along the way! I'm a nonbinary minor, if that matters to you, and go by they/them pronouns. I don't really like romance, so that's a bit of a nope, though.
What to expect:
-I give what I get. Usually a bit more. This is true for story, length, and quality.
-I play anywhere from 1-10 active characters at a time, though, usually it's closer to 1-5.
-I can write in several different tones and styles.
-I don't write romance with other people, sorry!
-Pseudoscience is my jam. If I start speaking in gibberish, slap me in the face and tell me to speak English.
-I'm fairly active, usually, but it ranges anywhere from a solid 10 (constant refreshing) to a 3 (pop in every few days) School can get... stressful.
-I don't play canon characters. I just don't.
-Making more than one rps with one person is fine by me.
What I expect from you:
-Have a decent understanding of the English language, at least.
-At least 3 paragraphs. I'm all for Quality over Quantity, but you can only get so much quality in a 4 sentance post... unless you're on a comma-high and all your sentences come out half a page long. If so, please do not.
-Paragraph breaks. Please. Please. PLEASE have paragraph breaks even if the dialogue is colored.
-A respect for my rules.
-If you have triggers or something you're uncomfortable with, tell me, because I have written more graphically upsetting scenes than I can count.
-Character sheets... at least, some semblance of them.
What to expect:
-I give what I get. Usually a bit more. This is true for story, length, and quality.
-I play anywhere from 1-10 active characters at a time, though, usually it's closer to 1-5.
-I can write in several different tones and styles.
-I don't write romance with other people, sorry!
-Pseudoscience is my jam. If I start speaking in gibberish, slap me in the face and tell me to speak English.
-I'm fairly active, usually, but it ranges anywhere from a solid 10 (constant refreshing) to a 3 (pop in every few days) School can get... stressful.
-I don't play canon characters. I just don't.
-Making more than one rps with one person is fine by me.
What I expect from you:
-Have a decent understanding of the English language, at least.
-At least 3 paragraphs. I'm all for Quality over Quantity, but you can only get so much quality in a 4 sentance post... unless you're on a comma-high and all your sentences come out half a page long. If so, please do not.
-Paragraph breaks. Please. Please. PLEASE have paragraph breaks even if the dialogue is colored.
-A respect for my rules.
-If you have triggers or something you're uncomfortable with, tell me, because I have written more graphically upsetting scenes than I can count.
-Character sheets... at least, some semblance of them.
Eyyo, if you're a roleplayer put your hands up! Name's Flame and I am here to host this overtly irritated trip down my Roleplay Rules, Requests, and Regulations! Now, following along the lines of the earlier sentence, if you're a roleplayer who's just here for romance, get out. Like... now. Please leave. I've had enough of people trying to wrap my characters into noncon relationships, so go. Shoo.
'Aight. Now that I've weeded out... probably half of you, time for an introduction.
Hello, you can call me whatever you so desire so long as I know you're talking about me and you're respecting pronouns. I am nonbinary and like to keep it that way, and lo and behold, a minor. Heh... I bet another few people just left.
Annnyway. Here's some shit about me you should probably know.
What to expect:
-I give what I get. Usually more. But I ain't here to tell you a story, so if you won't contribute to the plot, I won't.
-I play anywhere from 1-10 active characters at a time, though, usually it's closer to 1-5.
-I can write in several different tones and styles. Don't think I'm limited to one.
-I don't write romance with other people. Period.
-Pseudoscience is my jam. If I start speaking in gibberish, slap me in the face and tell me to speak English.
-I'm fairly active, usually, but it ranges anywhere from a solid 10 (constant refreshing) to a 3 (pop in every few days) School's a bastard.
-I don't play canon characters. I just don't.
-Making more than one rps with one person is fine by me.
What I expect from you:
-Have a decent understanding of the English language. C'mon, guys, I had they/their/there down by the time I was like...10. It's not that hard.
-At least 3 paragraphs. Look, I'm all for Quality over Quantity, but you can only get so much quality in a 4 sentance post... unless you're on a comma-high and all your sentences come out half a page long. If so, please do not.
-Paragraph breaks. Please. Please. PLEASE have paragraph breaks. I don't care if the dialogue is colored. It takes literally two clicks of the enter button then you're done.
-A respect for my rules. Be a decent fucking human (or other, I don't judge) please.
-If you have triggers or something you're uncomfortable with, tell me, because I have written more graphically upsetting scenes than I can count.
-Character sheets... at least, some semblance of them.
'Aight. Now that I've weeded out... probably half of you, time for an introduction.
Hello, you can call me whatever you so desire so long as I know you're talking about me and you're respecting pronouns. I am nonbinary and like to keep it that way, and lo and behold, a minor. Heh... I bet another few people just left.
Annnyway. Here's some shit about me you should probably know.
What to expect:
-I give what I get. Usually more. But I ain't here to tell you a story, so if you won't contribute to the plot, I won't.
-I play anywhere from 1-10 active characters at a time, though, usually it's closer to 1-5.
-I can write in several different tones and styles. Don't think I'm limited to one.
-I don't write romance with other people. Period.
-Pseudoscience is my jam. If I start speaking in gibberish, slap me in the face and tell me to speak English.
-I'm fairly active, usually, but it ranges anywhere from a solid 10 (constant refreshing) to a 3 (pop in every few days) School's a bastard.
-I don't play canon characters. I just don't.
-Making more than one rps with one person is fine by me.
What I expect from you:
-Have a decent understanding of the English language. C'mon, guys, I had they/their/there down by the time I was like...10. It's not that hard.
-At least 3 paragraphs. Look, I'm all for Quality over Quantity, but you can only get so much quality in a 4 sentance post... unless you're on a comma-high and all your sentences come out half a page long. If so, please do not.
-Paragraph breaks. Please. Please. PLEASE have paragraph breaks. I don't care if the dialogue is colored. It takes literally two clicks of the enter button then you're done.
-A respect for my rules. Be a decent fucking human (or other, I don't judge) please.
-If you have triggers or something you're uncomfortable with, tell me, because I have written more graphically upsetting scenes than I can count.
-Character sheets... at least, some semblance of them.
-Playing romance with me.
-Trans/homophobia (though, I doubt this will be an issue)
-Ace/aro/nb exclusionists.
-Anything that'll get me in trouble with RpN.
-Trans/homophobia (though, I doubt this will be an issue)
-Ace/aro/nb exclusionists.
-Anything that'll get me in trouble with RpN.
Literally everything else:
~Current wants have an asterisk next to them~
Transformers
How to train your dragon (And most things related to it)*
Dragon heart
Avatar (both)
Jurassic park/world
Fairy Tail
The devil is a partimer
Inuyasha
Magi****
The disastrous life of saiki k
Blue exorcist
Soul eater
Wings of fire
Warrior cats
Fable haven*
Keeper of the Lost Cities
Song of the Summer King
Skyrim
Ark survival evolved (If that counts)
Gargantia on the Verdurous planet**
Lucifer
Vampyr (The game. It's great!)
I've seen/read parts of the Witcher
Supernatural
Good Omens.
Marvel (Movies)**
Parts of DC*
BNHA*
Black Butler.
Harry Potter (mainly movies, but I’ve read some of the books)
The Gone series.
Kipo; Age of Wonderbeasts.
Eragon.
More I’m missing. Just ask if I know one.
Additionally, if a fandom has a Wiki and is interesting, I’ll probably play it regardless.
Transformers
How to train your dragon (And most things related to it)*
Dragon heart
Avatar (both)
Jurassic park/world
Fairy Tail
The devil is a partimer
Inuyasha
Magi****
The disastrous life of saiki k
Blue exorcist
Soul eater
Wings of fire
Warrior cats
Fable haven*
Keeper of the Lost Cities
Song of the Summer King
Skyrim
Ark survival evolved (If that counts)
Gargantia on the Verdurous planet**
Lucifer
Vampyr (The game. It's great!)
I've seen/read parts of the Witcher
Supernatural
Good Omens.
Marvel (Movies)**
Parts of DC*
BNHA*
Black Butler.
Harry Potter (mainly movies, but I’ve read some of the books)
The Gone series.
Kipo; Age of Wonderbeasts.
Eragon.
More I’m missing. Just ask if I know one.
Additionally, if a fandom has a Wiki and is interesting, I’ll probably play it regardless.
I have more on all of these; this is just kept fairly short for convenience.
Magic!Verse: High fantasy/Tolkieny with my own spin on things. Fairly low-stakes.
The Elementalist!Verse: Everyone's got elemental magic. Dark and fairly high-stakes. Dystopian.
Skyfall!Verse: Post apoc. Mutes everywhere. It's either desert, dense rainforest, or frozen mountain/tundra and nothing in between. Don't go into the water. Everything is dangerous. Mid-stakes.
Magic!Verse: High fantasy/Tolkieny with my own spin on things. Fairly low-stakes.
The Elementalist!Verse: Everyone's got elemental magic. Dark and fairly high-stakes. Dystopian.
Skyfall!Verse: Post apoc. Mutes everywhere. It's either desert, dense rainforest, or frozen mountain/tundra and nothing in between. Don't go into the water. Everything is dangerous. Mid-stakes.
Same rule with the fandoms.
Borrowers/littles and the poor humans who just discovered them (may want to study up on G/T writing for this, lol).***
Sci-Fi!
Slice-of-Life with an idiodic Superfamily.
Modern Urban Fantasy band.
FOUND FAMILY!****
Dragons.
Fandoms but dark.
Dark, unsettling things in general.
Borrowers/littles and the poor humans who just discovered them (may want to study up on G/T writing for this, lol).***
Sci-Fi!
Slice-of-Life with an idiodic Superfamily.
Modern Urban Fantasy band.
FOUND FAMILY!****
Dragons.
Fandoms but dark.
Dark, unsettling things in general.
(I'll add to this as I please)
-The Dragon Djin:
A magi-like world in which Your Character enters a dungeon and braves through the hordes of enemies only to come into a massive room filled to bursting with gold, silver, and fine jewelry. In the center of the massive hall, a large, scaled beast stands vigil, gold eyes trained on Y/C. "Who," it rumbles, voice carrying effortlessly. "Who is the champion to bare my brand? Step forward."
Things to note:
-Flame is a young Djin, though powerful.
-Found family on this one would be awesome.
- Animalistic Djins are shifters.
-The Dragon Djin:
A magi-like world in which Your Character enters a dungeon and braves through the hordes of enemies only to come into a massive room filled to bursting with gold, silver, and fine jewelry. In the center of the massive hall, a large, scaled beast stands vigil, gold eyes trained on Y/C. "Who," it rumbles, voice carrying effortlessly. "Who is the champion to bare my brand? Step forward."
Things to note:
-Flame is a young Djin, though powerful.
-Found family on this one would be awesome.
- Animalistic Djins are shifters.
Writing examples:
No.
"No, no, no. Please. Please, please, please. No. No!"
Jet pleaded. He begged, clawing at the ground as he willed his soul to work up any semblance of magic he could summon. Something. Anything. He went so far as to trace the trailing, spiraling warmth coiled around his heart into the very energy his body was using just to get the power required for just one last healing spell. Just one more. That's all he needed.
Spells that he'd had in place for decades snapped under the pressure, the taut strands of magic he could feel abruptly vanishing without a source of energy. Even as Jet shook from fatigue and sobbed from how much everything in him hurt, he grit his teeth and reached out to feel for magic in the environment. The grass. The trees. The air. Even microscopic organisms got caught in his sweep, and everything in almost a mile radius began withering, curling in on themselves and dying.
Black swirled across his skin in response, crawling up his neck and under his eyes as bright, blinding blue overtook his vision. The cyan was painful, grating on his retina to the point where he lost track of everything but the two entities beside him.
"Please," he ground out, reaching to the very depths of his magic reservoir. "Save him. I don't care what happens to me. Just help him. Please." He didn't know who he was talking to. He didn't even know if they heard him, because the moment he released his hold on the spell, he was gone.
It was like floating in a void being completely unaware.
At first, he struggled and thrashed, a sense of urgency buzzing under the skin he was no longer sure he had. His whole existence was in pain. It swirled throughout him, and he didn't know why. It wasn't even blurry. He could feel the answer somewhere in front of him, but everytime he reached, it felt like touching dry ice.
So he didn't, letting his mind drift away slowly and losing awareness over himself over time. It was comforting, in a way. Nothing was there to bother him and he could let the warmth build slowly and send powerful energy through his bones—bones... why did that sound familiar?
The feeling of weight overtook him, and Jet dimly recognized the feeling of waking up. Jet. Jet was his name, was it? Or was it Arian. Kadoshi? No. He remembered Jet strongest. Arian and Kadoshi came after. Jet Arian Kadoshi. Master Kadoshi. Archmage. He was an Archmage. He got his diploma? When? He was still in third...
Third year.
That was past, already.
Names flooded into Jet's mind, scenes and memories came with them.
Flame Drayceon. Platinum Valaeris. Sanguine—
Platinum.
Suddenly, Jet was back in the field. That damn field... but then... he couldn't remember why he hated it so much, his face tucked in the crook of Platinum's neck as he drew magic circles on the ground. Yes. It was comfortable there. He liked it.
But then he remembered. As the buzzing panic shot up his spine, Jet remembered. Ice. Blood. Choking. He couldn't breathe. Tears. Tears ran down his face, and his hands shook. Why were his hands shaking? A heavy exhaustion was setting in, and yet still, he pulled at the warm energy centered in his core. He pulled until there wasn't anything else he could pull, but he still found something. Something. It swirled in the world around him, so full of magic and life.
And he pulled it. He pulled it from everything, including himself. The only things that were spared were living souls.
His soul was not spared. He drained his magic until there was nothing left to drain, and then he drained his body and everything around him.
So why was he alive?
And why did he feel like an overcharged battery?
A soft buzzing under his skin—which was rapidly getting feeling—answered his question.
''Rias?' he inquired slowly, having to get used to living in his own skin again. There was no way he was going to be able to speak verbally anytime soon, but mental speech was easy.
A relived feeling bloomed in his mind, no-doubt a product from Arias—or, rather, Flame.
'You saved me.'
Satisfaction.
Jet twitched his shoulder, feeling something warm under it. Warm and moving. He reached out with his mind tentatively, brushing against a familiar soul. A soul that was still thrumming.
A breath of relief followed.
He was okay. Platinum was okay.
Jet cracked open an eye, the dimness wherever he was a great mercy, despite the aching—oh, yes, everything was beginning to hurt—setting into the organs.
Green rose up to tower over the two figures, massive vines weaving together with thorns digging into the plants' bodies to make an almost-waterproof ceiling. It was dense to the point of being startling, and Jet even registered some of the vines wrapped around his and Platinum's bodies, with Jet's—thankfully—shielding Platinum from the brunt of the pain.
He was scarcely awake for more than five minutes when a rustle behind him has him turning his head in a half-circle to look. bright blue eyes narrowing in on a strangely-clothed figure carrying a sleek, black... something that, from the buzzing of anxiety around his spine, he figured was a weapon.
It looked like a pair of rectangles with a cylinder slapped on the front, and it was about the size of Jet's arm at full extension. The figure was a human; no doubt, but almost all of it was covered in a black cloth, with some sort of lens in front of its face, attached to a smooth helmet.
Jet's feathers bristled, his crest rising up along his head involuntarily. "St—sta—stay a—away," he rasped, his only free wing flaring and twitching. He clutched Platinum tighter, thanking the skies that he was regaining feeling in his muscles.
The figure tilted its head, bringing the weapon up to point the cylinder at him. It spoke something in a strange language he didn't recognize, syllables heavily annunciated.
For a moment, he focused back inward, pulling at his magic—his magic, which came as easily as water and all-but overflowed into the spell he began whispering under his breath. "Show me how long I've been dormant."
Jet's eyes glazed over as the spell took effect, a number coming to mind easily. 1, 752 cycles.
Well, that's...
Inconvenient.
"No, no, no. Please. Please, please, please. No. No!"
Jet pleaded. He begged, clawing at the ground as he willed his soul to work up any semblance of magic he could summon. Something. Anything. He went so far as to trace the trailing, spiraling warmth coiled around his heart into the very energy his body was using just to get the power required for just one last healing spell. Just one more. That's all he needed.
Spells that he'd had in place for decades snapped under the pressure, the taut strands of magic he could feel abruptly vanishing without a source of energy. Even as Jet shook from fatigue and sobbed from how much everything in him hurt, he grit his teeth and reached out to feel for magic in the environment. The grass. The trees. The air. Even microscopic organisms got caught in his sweep, and everything in almost a mile radius began withering, curling in on themselves and dying.
Black swirled across his skin in response, crawling up his neck and under his eyes as bright, blinding blue overtook his vision. The cyan was painful, grating on his retina to the point where he lost track of everything but the two entities beside him.
"Please," he ground out, reaching to the very depths of his magic reservoir. "Save him. I don't care what happens to me. Just help him. Please." He didn't know who he was talking to. He didn't even know if they heard him, because the moment he released his hold on the spell, he was gone.
It was like floating in a void being completely unaware.
At first, he struggled and thrashed, a sense of urgency buzzing under the skin he was no longer sure he had. His whole existence was in pain. It swirled throughout him, and he didn't know why. It wasn't even blurry. He could feel the answer somewhere in front of him, but everytime he reached, it felt like touching dry ice.
So he didn't, letting his mind drift away slowly and losing awareness over himself over time. It was comforting, in a way. Nothing was there to bother him and he could let the warmth build slowly and send powerful energy through his bones—bones... why did that sound familiar?
The feeling of weight overtook him, and Jet dimly recognized the feeling of waking up. Jet. Jet was his name, was it? Or was it Arian. Kadoshi? No. He remembered Jet strongest. Arian and Kadoshi came after. Jet Arian Kadoshi. Master Kadoshi. Archmage. He was an Archmage. He got his diploma? When? He was still in third...
Third year.
That was past, already.
Names flooded into Jet's mind, scenes and memories came with them.
Flame Drayceon. Platinum Valaeris. Sanguine—
Platinum.
Suddenly, Jet was back in the field. That damn field... but then... he couldn't remember why he hated it so much, his face tucked in the crook of Platinum's neck as he drew magic circles on the ground. Yes. It was comfortable there. He liked it.
But then he remembered. As the buzzing panic shot up his spine, Jet remembered. Ice. Blood. Choking. He couldn't breathe. Tears. Tears ran down his face, and his hands shook. Why were his hands shaking? A heavy exhaustion was setting in, and yet still, he pulled at the warm energy centered in his core. He pulled until there wasn't anything else he could pull, but he still found something. Something. It swirled in the world around him, so full of magic and life.
And he pulled it. He pulled it from everything, including himself. The only things that were spared were living souls.
His soul was not spared. He drained his magic until there was nothing left to drain, and then he drained his body and everything around him.
So why was he alive?
And why did he feel like an overcharged battery?
A soft buzzing under his skin—which was rapidly getting feeling—answered his question.
''Rias?' he inquired slowly, having to get used to living in his own skin again. There was no way he was going to be able to speak verbally anytime soon, but mental speech was easy.
A relived feeling bloomed in his mind, no-doubt a product from Arias—or, rather, Flame.
'You saved me.'
Satisfaction.
Jet twitched his shoulder, feeling something warm under it. Warm and moving. He reached out with his mind tentatively, brushing against a familiar soul. A soul that was still thrumming.
A breath of relief followed.
He was okay. Platinum was okay.
Jet cracked open an eye, the dimness wherever he was a great mercy, despite the aching—oh, yes, everything was beginning to hurt—setting into the organs.
Green rose up to tower over the two figures, massive vines weaving together with thorns digging into the plants' bodies to make an almost-waterproof ceiling. It was dense to the point of being startling, and Jet even registered some of the vines wrapped around his and Platinum's bodies, with Jet's—thankfully—shielding Platinum from the brunt of the pain.
He was scarcely awake for more than five minutes when a rustle behind him has him turning his head in a half-circle to look. bright blue eyes narrowing in on a strangely-clothed figure carrying a sleek, black... something that, from the buzzing of anxiety around his spine, he figured was a weapon.
It looked like a pair of rectangles with a cylinder slapped on the front, and it was about the size of Jet's arm at full extension. The figure was a human; no doubt, but almost all of it was covered in a black cloth, with some sort of lens in front of its face, attached to a smooth helmet.
Jet's feathers bristled, his crest rising up along his head involuntarily. "St—sta—stay a—away," he rasped, his only free wing flaring and twitching. He clutched Platinum tighter, thanking the skies that he was regaining feeling in his muscles.
The figure tilted its head, bringing the weapon up to point the cylinder at him. It spoke something in a strange language he didn't recognize, syllables heavily annunciated.
For a moment, he focused back inward, pulling at his magic—his magic, which came as easily as water and all-but overflowed into the spell he began whispering under his breath. "Show me how long I've been dormant."
Jet's eyes glazed over as the spell took effect, a number coming to mind easily. 1, 752 cycles.
Well, that's...
Inconvenient.
Asset 07 stood, back straight, eyes unfocused, and wings folded arrow-head style behind them. They didn't see the dull walls of the facility, nor did they feel the cold stone that laid under their clawed feet. Brilliantly gold eyes offset by an unnaturally slit pupil looked straight ahead, despite the busy background.
"Ah, Asset 07. You've come for your assignment, I presume?" Commander drawled, not even looking at them as he plucked a large syringe from the table.
"Yes, Commander," 07 replied, voice scratchy-feeling from disuse. It came out more of a rolling growl laced with a hiss, though quiet. They didn't even flinch when the syringe was plunged into their skin, the micro-tracker embedding itself into their arm. It felt the same as it always did, even a little number, this time.
"Hangar five," Commander ordered, gesturing vaguely toward the hangar doors. "Get the drive in, then come back."
"Affirmative."
07 stalked toward the hangar, clad in all-black and silent as the shadows they emulated. The tool belt around their shoulders pulled in a way they were unused to, what with the recent change in class and all. They weren't used to having other Assets drop their gaze when faced with them; it was unsettling, in a way.
No matter.
They had a job to do.
~~~
The flashdrive slid neatly into the port, the indicator glowing a faint red as it started uploading its contents and running the program.
As they turned to leave, a slight glint in the darkness of the large office building caught 07's eye, giving them pause. The shiny in question was a small disk. Occasionally, it flashed red on top and let off a soft 'beep'. 07 clicked in the back of their throat curiously, stepping over to the item silently. Beside it, just out of reaching distance, was another. And another after that. They followed the trail of little beeping disks, frowning as it went around the entire room in a large circle. The beeping for each was slightly offset from any of the others, so they were either calibrated wrong or it was intentional for some godsforsaken reason.
They didn't want to pick them up, though, just in case they were dangerous.
They needed to leave. It didn't matter what those suspicious disks were; they had a mission, they completed it. Time to go back to the dropoff point. 07 turned on a heel, dropping to a slight hunch to yank the vent grate back out.
And then it clicked.
Every beep was getting closer and closer together.
Those were bombs.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
There was a crack and sound overwhelmed 07's senses, completely wiping out their hearing as bright oranges and reds seared through their mask and into their eyes. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it HURT! For the first time in years, Asset 07 cried out in pain, the sound coming out a twisted, shrieking keen.
Black crawled across their vision, and the world faded out.
~~~
When they woke up, they were not surrounded by the familiar white walls of the Facility. No. Instead, everything was black. Black faded to grey, which gave way to the sight of stone walls and the sight of four-inch-thick rebar piercing through the side of their arm, spilling bright crimson blood to the ground under them. By now, they were coated in it, black clothing dyed crimson. It was... a liter, maybe one and a half. They'd be fine, so long as they got the bleeding to stop.
"Ah..."
07 noted their restrictor was intact, much to their relief. They didn't need an overload, too.
Since the rebar was more... very deeply grazing their arm, 07 turned on their side in the—notably tight—space and ripped off enough of their still-partially-burning suit to wrap around the wound, pulling it away from the rebar with a wince. Damn, that hurt.
Now that their circulation was thoroughly cut off, they needed to leave.
07 braced against the stones trapping them, baring their back against the hard rocks as they gathered their legs under them. They paused, eyes scrunched shut and breathing shallow before arching their spine and pushing back against the rocks, which dimly registered as part of the wall of the building they'd infiltrated.
The world exploded back into color as bright moonlight washed down onto them, fresh, clean air spilling into their lungs and clearing away the dust.
It was dawn. The skies were painted with colors and streaked with clouds. 07 could hear people in the distance, despite the fogginess in their ears. They needed to get away. Commander would find them... eventually. So long as they had the tracker, still.
07 was miles away when they realized the arm that got hit had the tracker in it.
The tracker was gone.
They were on their own.
~~~
It was years later when 07, who'd given themself the name "Arii" (meaning "fire" or "flame") to avoid suspicion, officially gave up on Commander finding them. They were one person in a massive metropolitan city. No one was coming for them. They needed to do something to get food. They may have been trained to obey, but they still had a sense of self-preservation when lacking orders.
That's about the time that a new vigilante arrived to the scene; soundless and absolutely lethal when needed, the new informant was dubbed "Seven" due to the massive "07" emblazed onto the back of the purple suit, impossible to miss even with the wings.
~~~
Seven was good at what they did. Infiltrate, observe, report. They were fast, silent, and could cover more ground in less time than any car, given they had the space. While they were a big name in the criminal underground for their "Black Book" of names and favors owed, they were almost completely unknown to the public.
And Seven would like to keep it that way.
But they always felt... bad. Yes, that was a good word. A better one would be "guilty". They couldn't rely on Commander to tell them what was right or wrong anymore. They honestly had no idea what happened after they fulfilled a contract.
So, they devised a little...
Back-up system.
Seven would fulfill a contract and then a newly-named vigilante, CrowCall, would follow them, to make sure nothing bad happened. CrowCall was the media-friendly, happy-go-lucky part of Flame that was polite and did good. They were... different. They were also much more careful.
For once, it felt good.
So, Crow got more time. They did more than Seven ever did. They got people's cats down from trees, caught sticky-handed criminals, and took down anyone who threatened the peace of their tiny little piece of Los Angeles.
Which is how they ended up here.
Night and Seven shared a cautious glance, clicking at each other in rapid succession in what could graciously be described as "conversing". As far as they could tell, the people who led them there had wanted Crow, not Seven. Crow. But that, specific day, Night needed backup and Flame was in Seven mode, so there was no real fixing it.
And now...
Now they had a bunch of papers in front of them.
It seemed appealing, yes. Very appealing... but too good to be true. Much too good to be true.
Seven looked up, narrowing their eyes under their mask. "And if we don't?"
The woman's smile was more than unsettling. "Read the packet."
A moment of pause.
Seven looked back up, tilting their head. "I doubt you can track us down."
"Do you? And are these clauses really so bad? You will be fed, housed, paid, and you don't even have to take off your mask."
Seven tilted their head back to the other side, clicking in the back of their throat once again. "I don't appreciate being recorded."
"Ah, Asset 07. You've come for your assignment, I presume?" Commander drawled, not even looking at them as he plucked a large syringe from the table.
"Yes, Commander," 07 replied, voice scratchy-feeling from disuse. It came out more of a rolling growl laced with a hiss, though quiet. They didn't even flinch when the syringe was plunged into their skin, the micro-tracker embedding itself into their arm. It felt the same as it always did, even a little number, this time.
"Hangar five," Commander ordered, gesturing vaguely toward the hangar doors. "Get the drive in, then come back."
"Affirmative."
07 stalked toward the hangar, clad in all-black and silent as the shadows they emulated. The tool belt around their shoulders pulled in a way they were unused to, what with the recent change in class and all. They weren't used to having other Assets drop their gaze when faced with them; it was unsettling, in a way.
No matter.
They had a job to do.
~~~
The flashdrive slid neatly into the port, the indicator glowing a faint red as it started uploading its contents and running the program.
As they turned to leave, a slight glint in the darkness of the large office building caught 07's eye, giving them pause. The shiny in question was a small disk. Occasionally, it flashed red on top and let off a soft 'beep'. 07 clicked in the back of their throat curiously, stepping over to the item silently. Beside it, just out of reaching distance, was another. And another after that. They followed the trail of little beeping disks, frowning as it went around the entire room in a large circle. The beeping for each was slightly offset from any of the others, so they were either calibrated wrong or it was intentional for some godsforsaken reason.
They didn't want to pick them up, though, just in case they were dangerous.
They needed to leave. It didn't matter what those suspicious disks were; they had a mission, they completed it. Time to go back to the dropoff point. 07 turned on a heel, dropping to a slight hunch to yank the vent grate back out.
And then it clicked.
Every beep was getting closer and closer together.
Those were bombs.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
There was a crack and sound overwhelmed 07's senses, completely wiping out their hearing as bright oranges and reds seared through their mask and into their eyes. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it HURT! For the first time in years, Asset 07 cried out in pain, the sound coming out a twisted, shrieking keen.
Black crawled across their vision, and the world faded out.
~~~
When they woke up, they were not surrounded by the familiar white walls of the Facility. No. Instead, everything was black. Black faded to grey, which gave way to the sight of stone walls and the sight of four-inch-thick rebar piercing through the side of their arm, spilling bright crimson blood to the ground under them. By now, they were coated in it, black clothing dyed crimson. It was... a liter, maybe one and a half. They'd be fine, so long as they got the bleeding to stop.
"Ah..."
07 noted their restrictor was intact, much to their relief. They didn't need an overload, too.
Since the rebar was more... very deeply grazing their arm, 07 turned on their side in the—notably tight—space and ripped off enough of their still-partially-burning suit to wrap around the wound, pulling it away from the rebar with a wince. Damn, that hurt.
Now that their circulation was thoroughly cut off, they needed to leave.
07 braced against the stones trapping them, baring their back against the hard rocks as they gathered their legs under them. They paused, eyes scrunched shut and breathing shallow before arching their spine and pushing back against the rocks, which dimly registered as part of the wall of the building they'd infiltrated.
The world exploded back into color as bright moonlight washed down onto them, fresh, clean air spilling into their lungs and clearing away the dust.
It was dawn. The skies were painted with colors and streaked with clouds. 07 could hear people in the distance, despite the fogginess in their ears. They needed to get away. Commander would find them... eventually. So long as they had the tracker, still.
07 was miles away when they realized the arm that got hit had the tracker in it.
The tracker was gone.
They were on their own.
~~~
It was years later when 07, who'd given themself the name "Arii" (meaning "fire" or "flame") to avoid suspicion, officially gave up on Commander finding them. They were one person in a massive metropolitan city. No one was coming for them. They needed to do something to get food. They may have been trained to obey, but they still had a sense of self-preservation when lacking orders.
That's about the time that a new vigilante arrived to the scene; soundless and absolutely lethal when needed, the new informant was dubbed "Seven" due to the massive "07" emblazed onto the back of the purple suit, impossible to miss even with the wings.
~~~
Seven was good at what they did. Infiltrate, observe, report. They were fast, silent, and could cover more ground in less time than any car, given they had the space. While they were a big name in the criminal underground for their "Black Book" of names and favors owed, they were almost completely unknown to the public.
And Seven would like to keep it that way.
But they always felt... bad. Yes, that was a good word. A better one would be "guilty". They couldn't rely on Commander to tell them what was right or wrong anymore. They honestly had no idea what happened after they fulfilled a contract.
So, they devised a little...
Back-up system.
Seven would fulfill a contract and then a newly-named vigilante, CrowCall, would follow them, to make sure nothing bad happened. CrowCall was the media-friendly, happy-go-lucky part of Flame that was polite and did good. They were... different. They were also much more careful.
For once, it felt good.
So, Crow got more time. They did more than Seven ever did. They got people's cats down from trees, caught sticky-handed criminals, and took down anyone who threatened the peace of their tiny little piece of Los Angeles.
Which is how they ended up here.
Night and Seven shared a cautious glance, clicking at each other in rapid succession in what could graciously be described as "conversing". As far as they could tell, the people who led them there had wanted Crow, not Seven. Crow. But that, specific day, Night needed backup and Flame was in Seven mode, so there was no real fixing it.
And now...
Now they had a bunch of papers in front of them.
It seemed appealing, yes. Very appealing... but too good to be true. Much too good to be true.
Seven looked up, narrowing their eyes under their mask. "And if we don't?"
The woman's smile was more than unsettling. "Read the packet."
A moment of pause.
Seven looked back up, tilting their head. "I doubt you can track us down."
"Do you? And are these clauses really so bad? You will be fed, housed, paid, and you don't even have to take off your mask."
Seven tilted their head back to the other side, clicking in the back of their throat once again. "I don't appreciate being recorded."
"So, what's the job, this time?" Shaen questioned, clinging to the length of Flame's neck as Jet stood and walked around her, impossibly light steps barely even jostling the surface he strode on. Air whipped past the two at dizzying speeds, flinging Jet's hair back against his neck and clawing at his eyes with pointed talons. It rushed by his ears, filling them with the loud white noise he'd grown so familiar with.
"No idea. They just told us we should be there," the Rider replied, walking out along his dragon's wing with the confidence of someone who had done it many times and would do it many more. Flame's keeled scales were sharp, offering him purchase even without the use of his hands. "I believe they forget I am not under them, but we will go nonetheless. It could be important. If it is another one of their political games, we go home."
"Such that it is," Flame added, rumbling deep in their throat to accentuate the statement. "Will we request payment this time?"
"Only if we should," Jet replied, returning to his pacing. The heavy staff perched between his shoulders tugged at it's holder, the weight familiar and almost comforting at this point. They had been summoned a mere few minutes ago, and it was incredibly lucky they had been in the area, otherwise it could have taken days.
"What are the chances they staged that last job to keep us near?" Shae asked, sitting up and half-turning to look at the Rider currently pacing down the length of his dragon, motions jerky and abrupt but as graceful as a bird. Their last mission had ended up with them—quite literally—chasing a goose around the forest. A goose, and though Jet kept it well under wraps, she knew that everyone was tired of being errand-people.
"I'd say a one-in-three," Flame replied with the draconic equivalent of a mischievous grin, their long fangs flashing in the daylight—yes, that was another thing.
It was daytime.
They were awake in the normal person equivalent of midnight because they all received a mental wake-up call that was the equivalent of a slap in the face.
So, just as a reminder. They were all hungry, exhausted, frustrated, and tired of getting mock-jobs that tend to be played for a joke.
Jet groaned, flopping backward and stretching across Flame's back with a frustrated noise. "On the bright side, we may be able to get food here."
"Watch them not have anything decent for those who don't eat meat." They replied dryly, mental voice dripping with cynicism.
Granted, it was a valid concern, it happened before... but Jet chose to be optimistic.
"Your capacity for finding the sun will never cease to amaze me."
Flame arched up, a clear sign for Shae to cling tighter and for Jet to get upright and into an actual riding position before they were flung off. Not moments after they had did Flame take a long breath and snap their wings shut, spines flattening to their neck and limbs sleeking close to their body to streamline their form, their riders doing the same in turn.
The three dropped our of the sky, the air tugging at Flame's wings, begging them to give into the temptation and rise back up where the air was thin and they could glide on strong, warm winds. Even so, their limbs stayed tucked close to their form. The ground rushed up to greet them, reaching out with the promise of a gentle embrace.
"Yeah, of death," Shaen snorted, catching the tail-end of Flame's thought.
They snorted, straightening their body and slowly letting the wind coerce their wings open so-as-to not break their riders' more delicate bodies. "We'll arrive on the hour," They all-but drawled, making their displeasure with that arrangement loud and clear.
~~~
Flame was less-than-pleased in the hour it took them to arrive, and though they didn't outwardly display it, they did make it very known to the pair of other travelers that soon departed from them. The dragon huffed, curling up beside the "Great Hall" as the two humanoids' footsteps faded from their auditory range.
Skies, were they tired.
Still mildly annoyed at the interrupted sleep, Flame tucked their head under one of their wings and settled, staying "awake" but resting.
"No idea. They just told us we should be there," the Rider replied, walking out along his dragon's wing with the confidence of someone who had done it many times and would do it many more. Flame's keeled scales were sharp, offering him purchase even without the use of his hands. "I believe they forget I am not under them, but we will go nonetheless. It could be important. If it is another one of their political games, we go home."
"Such that it is," Flame added, rumbling deep in their throat to accentuate the statement. "Will we request payment this time?"
"Only if we should," Jet replied, returning to his pacing. The heavy staff perched between his shoulders tugged at it's holder, the weight familiar and almost comforting at this point. They had been summoned a mere few minutes ago, and it was incredibly lucky they had been in the area, otherwise it could have taken days.
"What are the chances they staged that last job to keep us near?" Shae asked, sitting up and half-turning to look at the Rider currently pacing down the length of his dragon, motions jerky and abrupt but as graceful as a bird. Their last mission had ended up with them—quite literally—chasing a goose around the forest. A goose, and though Jet kept it well under wraps, she knew that everyone was tired of being errand-people.
"I'd say a one-in-three," Flame replied with the draconic equivalent of a mischievous grin, their long fangs flashing in the daylight—yes, that was another thing.
It was daytime.
They were awake in the normal person equivalent of midnight because they all received a mental wake-up call that was the equivalent of a slap in the face.
So, just as a reminder. They were all hungry, exhausted, frustrated, and tired of getting mock-jobs that tend to be played for a joke.
Jet groaned, flopping backward and stretching across Flame's back with a frustrated noise. "On the bright side, we may be able to get food here."
"Watch them not have anything decent for those who don't eat meat." They replied dryly, mental voice dripping with cynicism.
Granted, it was a valid concern, it happened before... but Jet chose to be optimistic.
"Your capacity for finding the sun will never cease to amaze me."
Flame arched up, a clear sign for Shae to cling tighter and for Jet to get upright and into an actual riding position before they were flung off. Not moments after they had did Flame take a long breath and snap their wings shut, spines flattening to their neck and limbs sleeking close to their body to streamline their form, their riders doing the same in turn.
The three dropped our of the sky, the air tugging at Flame's wings, begging them to give into the temptation and rise back up where the air was thin and they could glide on strong, warm winds. Even so, their limbs stayed tucked close to their form. The ground rushed up to greet them, reaching out with the promise of a gentle embrace.
"Yeah, of death," Shaen snorted, catching the tail-end of Flame's thought.
They snorted, straightening their body and slowly letting the wind coerce their wings open so-as-to not break their riders' more delicate bodies. "We'll arrive on the hour," They all-but drawled, making their displeasure with that arrangement loud and clear.
~~~
Flame was less-than-pleased in the hour it took them to arrive, and though they didn't outwardly display it, they did make it very known to the pair of other travelers that soon departed from them. The dragon huffed, curling up beside the "Great Hall" as the two humanoids' footsteps faded from their auditory range.
Skies, were they tired.
Still mildly annoyed at the interrupted sleep, Flame tucked their head under one of their wings and settled, staying "awake" but resting.
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but I just love Draco
