#vegadoom

In his downtime, Vega knows the Slayer will do anything that lets him use his hands. Be it repairing and washing his armory, holding a book, or anything else: he had to have his hands full and busy. Vega considers that he has been a fairly good solution to the problem as of late--as it turns out, the Slayer was fascinated by gestures of affection including, but not limited to, little things like holding hands.

It’s no different than what he’s doing now. Vega watches from the corner of his vision as the marine idly tears snippets of paper out of an old notebook and fidgets with it. Inky sits in his lap, perfectly content with where she is and the fact that Vega doesn’t have to donate any additional thought to keeping his hand stroking her back.

For as large as the Slayer’s fingers are, they appear to be quite nimble. They fold and unfold the piece in oddly-specific ways. Maybe he isn’t just fiddling around with it. He might have an end goal. He’d heard of it before--origami, he recalls--the art of masterfully working fingers and paper to create three dimensional creations. It was quite entertaining to watch.

He’s snapped out of his sidetracking thoughts by the other tapping his foot against the floor to get Vega’s attention. When the AI looks over, he knows a grin would be splitting his face, were he to have one.

“What is that?” he peers closer. Inky looks up from her nap to look as well, trilling curiously. “You made it?”

Slayer nods. He pinches the tiny ‘wings’ between two fingers and holds it out to Vega. 

Carefully, Vega retrieves it. Upon looking closer, he recognizes it as one of the creatures that had roamed a formerly-untainted Earth.

“That’s a butterfly?” he asks, bemused. He turns the folded paper over in his hand, noting how specific the crafting is.

Preening--absolutely, no way around it, he’s preening--, the other nods. He’s already tearing another scrap off the page and working on a second one.

Vega sets the little butterfly on the desk in front of him as he watches the process. Inky stirs, going through a luxurious stretch before eyeing the desk.

Both Vega and the Slayer are so focused on the man’s work that neither of them notice Inky’s growing curiosity. It’s only when the paper butterfly swishes off the desktop and onto the floor between them that they look up.

Inky’s eyes are dilated, her pupils nearly eclipsing the irises. The tip of her tail flicks excitedly, and she sits heavily on her haunches as if stalking.

Vega stoops over and picks the paper back up, setting it pointedly back on the desk. In plain sight, Inky does it again. When he fetches it off the floor a second time, he keeps it out of her reach. His nimble fingers go through the motions of making the wings ‘flaps’ as if in flight.

By the time Slayer finishes the second one, they’re both gazing at the little creations adoringly. Slayer has one in his hand, while Vega has the first.

“Quite interesting,” Vega comments.

Slayer’s gaze turns mischievous. He turns away from Vega to flick the butterfly across the floor, chuffing when Inky launches after it. She scrabbles furiously on the smooth ground, finally catching it and, surprisingly, bringing it back.

Urdak is just as much of a hellscape as he remembers it being.

This time, though, he knows where to go. 

He marches straight to the portal configuration consoles where he’d left Vega. With purpose and great strides, he makes his way to his destination. Demons try to stop him but the sheer amount of determination coursing through him gives him the strength to backslap many out of his way.

Upon reaching the consoles, he slows. Would it be Vega, still? Had he changed? What if--

“Slayer?” The voice is distorted, deeper, yet familiar all the same. He feels his heart leap into his throat as he walks closer. “You...came back.”

He nods numbly. ‘Of course,’ he signs, not knowing if the AI could even see him respond.

“I thought…” Vega trails off. “I thought I was trapped here.” His voice is tepid, shaky.

The Slayer reaches the console, gently running a gloved hand along it. Could Vega feel the tender action?

“I am guessing you are here to retrieve me?”

The Slayer nods again.

“To run the Fortress, of course,” Vega quickly adds on. “I understand not trusting Hayden to do so.”

The Slayer shakes his head.

‘Came back for you,’ he responds, ‘Missed you, friend.’

Vega is silent for a moment before speaking again. “I...see,”

“Nice to hear your voice again, Vega,” Hayden’s voice is measured and even.

“Hayden,” Vega responds stiffly. “This is all because of you.” Vega is seething now. “You did this to him,” Vega accuses. “To me.”

“I did what I had to,” Hayden retorts bluntly. 

“Really, now?”

“To him, it was to defend his own home,” Hayden starts. “Taras Nabad was under siege by the titan, the Dreadnought, and the only way to defeat it was to meet its power and capabilities head-on.”

“And did he consent to this, I wonder?” Vega sneers. Anxiously, the Slayer shifts from foot to foot as the two seethe at each other.

“Well--” Samuel stutters. “No, however--”

“You did not even know if he could accomplish the task you were assigning to him!” Vega pauses. “No offense, dear friend.”

The Slayer shakes his head dismissively.

“Based on the attributes he already had,” he cuts in, “I made the presumption that he was the best suited for the Divinity machine.”

“And once he did?”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘once he did’?”

“Remember how you treated him?” Vega snarls. “You used him as a pawn to play. On Mars. He was no divine hero to you. He was just another body to control. And, smartly, he stood up to it.”

“He was--is--foolish to go against fate as such,” Hayden sneers.

“Regardless,” Vega quickly changes the topic, “why did you help him come back, if fate had determined I was to remain on Urdak?”

“Because this man pouted.”

“I--” Vega stutters for a moment. “He…?”

“Pouted. Sulked. Wallowed in grief.”

Vega can’t help but let out a burst of laughter. “Is this so, Slayer?”

The Slayer shrugs, then nods adamantly. 

“You...missed me?” Vega tries to understand the implications of the scenario. 

The Slayer quickly attempts to cover his tracks. ‘So did Inky.’

Vega laughs mirthfully this time. “All this time--”

Hayden interjects. “Have your heartfelt reunion once we’ve returned,” he snorts. “I dislike this place and would rather leave it as soon as possible.”

The Slayer looks at him knowingly. Cranky because you were banished from here, aren’t you?

If Samuel noticed, he does not show it. “I am, once again, reconfiguring the portals back to Earth,” he announces. “Get him uninstalled quickly.”

 “Allow me a moment to disengage from the console. Has Hayden secured a way back?”

“Yes, lovebirds, I have a way back,” Haydens voice cuts in. “Are you quite done?”

Vega gives a chuckle. “I’m ready if you are, Slayer.”

The man’s hands hang dumbly in the air as he attempts to figure out how to fetch Vega from the console. He’d brought a datastick, but there seems to be no place to insert it.

Fortunately, Vega chimes in. “You should be able to simply remove the core from the console,” he informs. “I have disengaged any locks holding it in place.”

Carefully, almost gingerly, the marine removes the core from the console. The feeling of it in his hand, as well as the knowledge that Vega would be returning back with him this time, almost overwhelms him in the moment. The hand holding Vega trembles in the slightest, unnoticeable to Hayden but all too apparent to Vega. It’s tucked to his chest, large hands enclosing it completely, as if shielding Vega from the world.

A portal opens, Hayden prompting him to enter. “I can’t keep it up for long,” he warns. 

The Slayer slips through, reentering the Fortress once more. He quickly makes his way to the main console, where Vega perfectly fits back into place, where he belongs.

The lights flicker as Vega comes back to power. 

Tilting his head curiously, the Slayer looks around.

“I have fully integrated into the Fortress’ systems once more,” Vega informs.

“Welcome back,” Hayden’s voice drips with sarcasm.

Inky pads in, tail curled at the tip in curiosity as she watches. 

“Inky, dear!” Vega sounds excited. Equally, at the sound of his voice, Inky perks up and looks around expectantly.

“Go remove your armor,” Vega tells him. “I will meet you in your--our room.” The Slayer can hear the smile in his voice this time. 

“Yes,” Hayden grunts. “Have your foolish heartfelt reunion somewhere where I don’t have to deal with you.”

Inky follows after him as he turns to head back to the armory. Can she notice the sudden change of mood? Could she hear Vega over the link? He doubts that. Still, she sticks to him like a second shadow as he peels off the Praetor suit and stashes away his weaponry. When finished, he pauses to think things over. Vega is really back. Things are back to how they should be. Soon, he’ll be laying down with him once more, the two of them and Inky reunited just as before. The thought makes him excited.

Reliably, Inky trots after him as he pads down the hallway to his quarters. She waits patiently for the door to open, instantly perking up at what’s inside. He feels his own heart skip a beat at the sight, too.

Vega stands inside, hands politely linked behind his back as he waits. Inky wastes no time charging in, meowing repeatedly, as if scolding him for even leaving. She weaves between his legs, eagerly jumping into his arms as he stoops over to pick her up. 

“Yes, I know,” Vega coos to her. “Shame on me for leaving you, love.” He lets her bump her head against his before locking eyes with the Slayer. “I do promise that will not happen again,” he says purposefully.

‘You don’t think that she--’

“Of course not, dear.” Vega assures him. “She has fallen ill with what you call a ‘cold’. She has a stuffy nose and a cough. She’s not…dying.” He hopes he’s using the right terms, here. He’d only ever heard of the UAC members talk of such ‘colds’ before. It seemed to be an illness not too severe, but often played up to sound so as to earn a day off of work. “I recall UAC workers talking of such an illness. It appeared rather minor, but was exaggerated to a great degree. That’s likely what she’s doing, too.”

Inky flicks an ear in their direction, but doesn’t open her eyes. It’s obvious that she’s listening in. Her breathing is barely audible and would be completely silent were it not for the slight rasp in her chest. Vega knew cats were considered dramatic creatures. He hadn’t understood to what degree the statement went until now.

Slayer still looks unconvinced. His brows are furrowed and his face is tense, belying the composed façade he’s trying to put on. Belatedly, he holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers enticingly.

Inky responds hoarsely, rumbling out a pleased sound and standing. He’s at least soothed by the fact that she’s still active. If something truly was wrong, she wouldn’t be up and moving. She still curls her tail at the tip; she still moves rather silently; she still hops up on the bed and assumes her rightful position in the Slayer’s lap.

Even yet, he looks concerned. Vega assumes that now that she’s close, the rasp of her breathing is more noticeable. He watches as the marine gently strokes down her back, making her arch into the touch happily. His face is still furrowed in worry.

Inky seems to know how to soothe him. She sits up in her lap, does a luxurious stretch (there’s no way she had gotten that comfortable in less than a minute, right?), and raises herself up to bump the Slayer’s chin with her head. It seems to work at making him relax as the tension visibly leaves him. As he slumps over further, Inky takes to crawling up his torso to reach his head. She rather sternly licks a few rogue strands of hair back into place before butting her head with the Slayer’s rather forcefully.