#write.void

"What do you want?"

Her voice comes out rough, scraping past her throat painfully. The crude metal mask covering the right side of her face makes it hard to place exactly how far away the mercenary is standing, but she knows it's far too close for comfort. If he decides to attack, she's not sure her improvised flail will help much. Especially not in her current state.

Hank grunts, jerking his head as if to say "come with me". Flare bristles, practically snarling at him.

"What, so you can kill me off in some dark alley, out of the way of everyone? Since when did you care about that?"

Her aggressive tone just makes Hank groan. She can tell he's rolling his eyes behind his red-tinted goggles, which makes her all the more angry. How dare he. After that fight, after what he did, after she left the team-

The anger vanishes in a flash, replaced with bone-chilling dread as he takes a step forward, grunting something. Flare doesn't pay much attention to what's being said, too focused on stepping back without tripping over rubble and winding up with her weapon, watching his hands intensely.

She sees Hank pause, almost as if worried, and raise his hands slightly to show that they're empty. The movement does little to comfort her as she steps back even more, finally finding her voice.

"Stay the fuck away from me. Don't you dare come closer"

A beat.

Two.

Hank lowers his hands, stepping back. Surprisingly enough, he doesn't seem to be looking for a fight. At least, not yet.

"Just... Just tell me why you're here. No funny business. None of that mission stuff. I know damn well there aren't any agency buildings to raid around here"

Hank lifts his hands again, and it takes Mike all he has to not flinch

"The team wants you back"

Mike almost drops the sack he's holding. Why? Why would anyone want him back? He wasn't providing that much to anyone. Not as much as he could have. Not as much as he should have, given the inconvenience he brought. It's why the argument happened. It's why the fight broke out. It's why she's been surviving in the wastelands on her own for months now.

Who would want her back? Her? The defective agent who couldn't even follow simple orders?

She doesn't realise she spaced out until a gunshot brings her back.

She throws herself to the side, towards an alley, ignoring the cracking noise her right arm makes as she pushes herself up and runs, trying to remember where she is.

Right. City. Street. Supply run. Hank. Hank?

Hank is beside her, cursing under his breath. It takes a minute to register that he wasn't the one shooting. But if not him, then who-?

Another shot hits the box in front of her face, forcing her to scramble backwards. A sniper, then. Great.

Another moment goes by before she realises how cramped their hiding spot is. Between the wall and all the crates, there's just barely enough space for both Hank and her. Provided, of course, they don't mind having to squeeze in

And yet...

He still hasn't reached for her throat. Why isn't he attacking? She can't help but flinch when he lifts a hand to shield his eyes and search the buildings for where the sniper is. Flare allows Hank to take over doing that while she tries to find a way to escape this situation before Hank changes his mind about killing her.

Mike thew himself behind a toppled table as gunshots echoed elsewhere in the building, pressing a hand to where his head got slammed into the wall minutes ago.

Great. Just what he needed. As if the day wasn't going badly enough as is.

Not only has he woken up with a killer headache, still sore from his last mission, he also managed to get into an argument with Hank before even arriving to whatever agency building they were sacking this time.

And now he's gotten himself injured, and managed to split up with Hank. Not to mention that the gun he's picked up from some agent's corpse is jamming.

Just great.

He bites back a groan, sitting up and peeking from behind his makeshift cover.

No agents in sight. Good. That's... something.

Mike probably has a few minutes before the agency realises that he and Hank split up. He just has to pray that by then he finds a decent weapon and some bandages. And maybe a way out, since he has no idea where he currently is. He starts heading to the closest door, holding his gun like a bat, ready to swing if the need arises.

Unfortunately, that's the moment it decides to unjam and, for some god forsaken reason, shoot.

Mike curses, throwing the gun across the room and trying to not think too hard about how much worse that could have been if his arm was angled just a little bit lower. Great. Now all the agents nearby have been alerted to his location. Fucking perfect. He wouldn't be surprised if there were soldiers in this building too. Hell, maybe even a few MAGs. Why not? At this rate the Auditor himself could materialize in front of Mike and he wouldn't be surprised.

Loud footsteps jolt him from his thoughts. Right. More pressing matters. Of course. Mike quickly glances around again, ignoring the way his vision blurs with the motion. Spotting a door, and only taking a moment to make sure there weren't any sounds behind it, he tears it open and slips inside.

It's... A broom closet. Shit. There was a different door not far from this one. Maybe if he's fast enough, he can-

"Clear the perimeter. Search every nook. We can't have it escaping to rejoin with him again"

Ugh. Well, there goes that plan. He can hear the agents spread out to search the room he was just in. Judging by the footsteps, at least a full squad of agents, probably with a soldier leading them.

Mike takes note of the equipment at his disposal. Buckets, brooms, rubber gloves... What sort of agency broom closet doesn't have any weapons?! Well, at least none of the agents have bothered with checking this broom closet. Yet.

Mike moves, silently, climbing onto the boxes in the corner of the room. It's getting harder to think, and the ringing in his ears is telling him he needs to sit down. He pulls himself inside some box, shoving aside the mops already in there as quietly as possible, and pulls a different box partway onto the lid.

With any luck, the agents won't notice the bloody prints he's left while hiding. Or the bottle of soap he's spilled when shifting the other box. Not like he can do anything but hope, now. His body is already going limp, passing out without his permission.

He just has to get lucky. For once today.

It takes a few minutes of monologuing for Mark to realise his captain was motionless, slumped over, and definitely not listening anymore. It takes a few more moments for his head to clear. What did he just do?

It all felt like a fever dream. He hoped that's what it was. Really, sincerely wished it wasn't real, that that didn't just happen. I didn't. I wouldn't. Not the captain. I wouldn't hurt him. Not again. Gods, not again. Please. But the gravel poking at his knees through his uniform pants; the red sticky liquid covering his arms and front, pooling around his friend and soaking into denim; the strong metallic smell in the air; the heavy weight in his right hand all dashed those hopes. This was no dream.

He recalled watching the light fade from his captain's eyes. Remembered watching it slump to the side, eyes fluttering closed. Remembered not caring, too drunk on the pride of his idea "working"

He panics now, quickly shoving the object in his hand back in his captain's chest. It's fine, he's FINE, just don't think about it, it'll all be ok. His captain doesn't react when he calls out to it. He only realises he's shaking when he reaches out to touch the captain's cheek, staining it even more red

It's cold

When Celci answers on the third ring, the usual "asshat" is said with a tinge of worry. She knows he wouldn't call her unless it was important. Not during work hours and especially not on her personal phone.

"I... I killed the captain" Mark surprises himself with how calm he is as he confesses. He gives Celci the details of what happened and where he is, and stays on the line until the ambulance arrives, watching as they rush the captain to the hospital. He doesn't even remember taking out his phone.

He doesn't know why the second ambulance is there, or why it takes him to the hospital. He shouldn't be around people, what if he hurts someone again? The room he's put in looks like any other room. The only differences are part of the wall connecting to the hallway being made from thick glass, and a guard waiting outside the room door. A nurse takes samples for a few tests before pointing Mark in the direction of clean clothes and a secluded bathroom area and leaving him alone

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

He doesn't sleep

It doesn't matter how comfortable the hospital bed is, or how tired he was from working overtime for the past month

It's been a few days now, or so he thinks. It's all blurred together

He couldn't sleep, because every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the captain– his captain– looking at him, silently pleading "don't do this". Every time he drifted off, even for a moment, he could hear its scream as he cut its heart out. No, he won't sleep any time soon. Maybe not ever again

The hospital is silent. Only the hum of the cooling units keep him company. The guard outside his door left to get snacks some time ago, asking him if he wanted anything from the vending machine beforehand. Mark wasn't sure why they trusted him to not just get up and leave

He turns around to check the clock on the nightstand. 1:18am. Time dragged on. He wonders if there's any of those tables with lots of magazines on them somewhere near his room. It would be better than doing nothing

He gets out of bed, turning back towards the door, intending to see if he can get the guard's attention. He makes it a total of two steps before freezing

This can't be happening. No way. This isn't possible

His arms lower from the defensive position they instinctively went up to

"...captain?" His voice sounds broken, barely above a whisper. Almost like he's been crying, he realises, even though he hasn't shed a single tear. He has half a mind to run to the door and hug the captain, just to make sure it's real

But a different, louder part of his brain sneers at the thought. You killed him. How do you expect him to be here if he's dead? Do you see how pale it is? How much it's not leaning against the IV pole? This is a ghost. And he's come to haunt you for what you did to him

Mark doesn't realise he's backpedalling until he trips onto his bed. He quickly sits up, pulling his legs up and locking his eyes back onto the ghost in the corridor

But... There is no malice in its face. In fact, it looks concerned. Why is he concerned? I killed you! You should hate me! Hate me, godsdamnit! Mark doesn't break eye contact until the ghost does, and even then he watches it until it's out of sight. Why did he leave? Why did he leave again? Come back. Come back come back come back come backcomebackcomebackcomeback-

He stares out into the hallway for the rest of the night

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

David woke up with a start, the beeping of the machine next to him picking up together with his heart rate, going almost fast enough to alert the medics.

He's.... back?

It took a lot of strength just to sit up. The digital clock next to him showed 0:47AM. What a great time to be awake.

It only took a bit of fumbling with the buttons for David to call his attending nurse. It wishes he could say he was surprised when Celci entered the room

"David" all formalities thrown out the window. She sounds concerned. And tired. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak, mostly" his smile is rather humourless "where's...?"

"Mark's fine. We're running a few tests to see what might have caused... that... reaction. Should be getting the results back any day now"

"I want to see him"

"David-"

"No, CC, I need to see him. I have to know he's ok." Despite being the one in the hospital bed, its stare was quite defiant, and Celci had to relent.

"Fine. But only after you-"

"No. I have to. Now"

It took a few more minutes of back and forth arguing for Celci to finally agree and let David see Mark. She sends away the guard to give David and Mark some semblance of privacy.

It doesn't like how Mark looks: tired, and numb. And him stumbling away from it in horror is something it likes even less. This is going to be a long healing process. For both of them

He leaves after another moment, though it feels like a hundred years. He knows Mark's eyes don't leave it until it's out of sight

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

"A... flower? A flower caused this?" It was morning, about a week later. David was back in his room, looking over the med test results together with Celci

"Yes. Apparently, it causes dimorphous expression to become a lot stronger. Kind of romantic, if you think about it"

David had to think about it for a minute. "...cuteness aggression? That flower caused cuteness aggression?"

"Not quite. The flower caused all of Mark's emotions to become stronger. It just so happened that at the moment those emotions were 'upset about work overload' and 'missing his captain'"

David paused for a second, processing this information.

Mark... missed him?

"Huh. Well. Maybe next time he'll ask me out normally. Or I'll ask him out myself. Either way, there will be way less stabbing"

Mark has been getting better nowadays, especially after seeing David around during daytime: talking to other people, eating, and overall acting very much alive.

"Captain you know-"

"That it's against regulations? Yes. Yes I do. But what base doesn't know won't hurt them. Besides, what are they going to do? Fire me?"

"Finally, almost done!"

David stepped away and marvelled at his work. He had the day off today, something Celci suggested to give him the chance to sleep in and relax. He was wearing casualwear, a tank top and sweatpants, instead of his usual uniform.

Unfortunately, Celci underestimated how much David didn't like sitting around doing nothing. Instead of sleeping in like he said he would, it decided to work on one of the projects it had to put on hold while fulfilling duties as the captain.

With Valentine's Day right around the corner, it seemed fitting for him to finish making the gift for Mark that it'd been working on for the past month. Valentine's would be the perfect time to give it, and there's even space to store away some chocolate and a note for Mark.

He just had to wait for tomorrow and do one final check, and the gift would be ready. David moved to put it out of the way for now. Would be a shame if Mark saw it before he's supposed to. That would ruin the surprise. He moved it back to the top shelf where it's been collecting dust for a few weeks. Now he just had to wait.

The colony has gotten very busy recently. Between new projects needing his approval, and plans and preparations for a Valentine's Day celebration parade, he barely had any time left to sleep, not to mention working on any of his own projects.

He wondered if Mark was under the same sort of pressure. They haven't had the chance to properly talk in over a month now, only exchanging a few words over the coffee Mark made in the morning, before each heading off to start their day.

Speaking of, Mark has mostly been wearing his turtleneck recently. Makes sense with the weather changes, but David couldn't help but wonder how his head engineer's arms were so well toned.

The crunching of gravel brought him out of his thoughts. Speaking of...

David turned around, pulling the garage door down behind itself; a bright, closed eye smile on his face.

"Mark! I didn't expect to see you today! What a pleasant surprise!" He opened his arms in an invitation for a hug, walking forwards "How you doing? Any problems with--?"

He cut off at the sudden stabbing pain in his stomach, freezing in place, eyes flying wide an face falling. Almost choking on his words. Well this is new. His scar hasn't acted up since they've landed. Phantom pains were nothing unusual of course, but this time felt different. More solid, somehow. Real.

He moved to grab at the scar and steady whatever was causing the pain, not expecting his hands wrap around one of Mark's.

Trailing his eyes down, it lets out a quiet "oh". Mark was holding a knife hilt deep in David's abdomen.

David stumbles forward, ignoring the knife digging in further with the movement, his hands flying to Mark's shoulders, grabbing on for support. He feels faint. It's getting more and more difficult to move with each passing moment. That blade was poisoned. A strong poison too. Wh…..?

He recalled now how his coffee has been tasting weird for the past few weeks. He was unsure then, but now it was rather clear.

Those weren't the coffee beans going bad, or the plants growing weird in the climate of the new planet. It was poisoned too. Weaker poison, but definitely still there. Still on purpose.

But why would Mark...?

David wraps his arms around Mark's neck as his knees start to give out, some part of his brain vaguely noting the knife getting removed.

"....w..hy......?" Why would he...? What reason....? He isn't like this. Mark wouldn't do this. So why......?

He barely registers that Mark has lowered him to the ground, leaning against the garage door and carefully– carefully– cutting through and taking off its tank top. Its house was a bit away from the neighbouring ones (a precaution for when David had nightmares), and the two were in the backyard. No chance of anyone spotting them any time soon.

"Don't worry, captain" Mark's voice was weird. Deeper. A dangerous edge to it. "This won't hurt a bit"

David refocused its attention at that. The question of whatever he ment died at his lips when he met Mark's eyes. Danger. Its whole body was screaming at it to run. To fight. To do something. But the poison did its job. David could barely move his lips enough to form coherent words. Running away was definitely out of the question.

Mark's grin is predatory, eyes gleaming just like the knife he's twirling around in his hand. There's a sudden blur of movement, and David feels a dull ache start in his chest and spread through the numbness coating his body. It doesn't dare look down, choosing to gaze into the distance instead, eyes defocusing briefly.

"m..mark-"

"I did my research, Captain. I know that's just the shock. I know it doesn't hurt. Golden Pale Laurel poison works as an anaesthetic. I did have to up the dose for you, since my previous... antics... went so unnoticed I thought the drugs went bad" he stopped whatever he was doing and the dull pain in David's chest subsided a little.

Mark reached a blood coated hand up to cup its face, forcing it to look him in the eyes. "You're doing so good, David~"

It almost recoiled. This isn't Mark. Mark wouldn't do that. Mark wouldn't say that. Not like that. David's fingers twitched at his sides, the pain in his chest slowly growing stronger. Mark didn't dose it correctly. The poison was wearing off already. Good. Maybe he'll be able to defend himself after all. Just a few more seconds...

"This might hurt a little," Mark warned. David could barely hear him over the heartbeat pounding in his own ears. Almost there. The last of the poison wore off, the pain in his chest now only dulled by adrenaline. He carefully inches its arms closer to Mark. It just had to wait for the right moment to strike, and...

The scream that leaves its throat is sudden and loud, almost inhuman. Mark is quick to gently shush him, an index finger landing on David's lips. It could feel the hot blood on it. His own blood.

"Shhhhh..... it's ok... the pain will go away soon…" Mark moved his hand to once again cradle David's face "You're doing so well, captain. All for me."

David barely restrains another yell when Mark resumes digging in its chest. A high-pitched, pained whine escapes him instead, despite his best attempts to stay quiet.

"......m.ark..." David's voice was hoarse. Begging. Getting desperate. "Mark it... i-it h- hurts" he doesn't know when he grabbed onto Mark's upper arms, sage painted nails digging into flesh, drawing blood. He didn't care. It hurt

Everything was starting to blend together. His vision blurred, something warm trailing down his cheek. The pain was blinding. David can barely focus long enough to look Mark in the face, its expression pleading

For a brief moment, Mark seems concerned. That doesn't last, his expression quickly becoming predatory again, if with a softer edge this time. "Awwwwww, it's ok my love. It'll stop hurting in a bit, I promise."

Mark leans forward, capturing David's lips in a kiss, his hands not straying from its chest cavity. David tastes blood. His senses are overwhelmed. He wishes the kiss was under better circumstances. He wishes it never happened in the first place. He wishes Mark would snap out of it soon. He wishes this would end. He wishes the moment would last forever

Suddenly there's a sharp pull and bright pain in its chest, as Mark pulls something free. Its vision swims and another scream tears from his throat, partially silenced by Mark's lips.

"There we go," Mark whispers, leaning back ever so slightly, his expression adoring. "That wasn't so bad now, was it, my love?" He sits back on his heels, and David almost misses moments ago, when that distance wasn't there. Almost.

Mark triumphantly raises something in his hand. David's vision is already fading out, but he can guess what it is.

A heart

Still beating

"Now I've captured your heart, just like you've captured mine. I have something you need. We won't have to stay apart. Anywhere you go, I'll always be right there. No more being split up because of work, or the whims of the universe. We'll be together forever now. No matter what~"

Mark couldn't sit still. They were already arriving to some old abandoned house, but it was taking too long, and he couldn't stop thinking about Starry who was passed out, bleeding, in the back seat. He didn't dare look for the fear of accidentally locking eyes with Thea or David. (Starry'll be fine, she's strong, it's fine)

‎

He hopped out of the car before it even fully stopped, tripping on his way and recieving a concerned squeak from Zara. He opened the back door, got Starry out of the car and started walking towards the house (Zara quick to follow him) before the sound of the engine had the chance to die down. He tried to ignore how limp and cold and small Starry felt in his arms. (They're still breathing. It's fine. Everything is ok. It's gonna be fine)

‎

He was halfway to the house when he realised something was wrong. Behind Zara's constant stream of quiet apologies and how loud his own thoughts were, he didn't notice it sooner.

‎

There were only two sets of footsteps crunching on the gravel: his and Zara's.

‎

This realisation caused him to stop in his tracks, earning another startled squeak from Zara as they almost crashed into his back.

‎

Why haven't Thea and David gotten out of the car yet.

Something was wrong

‎

Despite his brain yelling at him about Starry, Mark turned around and started taking long strides back towards the car. Thea. He can't lose two of his friends in one day. He won't. He refuses to

‎

He could see from afar how David lifted its head at the sound of footsteps getting closer. Mark tried to keep his voice level when he started speaking

‎

"Get out of the car."

‎

No answer

‎

"David, wake up Thea and get out of the car."

‎

Mark could see how much effort it took for David to shake his head.

‎

"I can't do that. I'm sorry, Mark," his voice is quiet, but Mark still felt his world get knocked out from under him

‎

This isn't really happening. It can't be happening. It must be joking

‎

Mark reached forward, opening the car door and somehow not dropping Starry in the process (some part of his brain was screaming that her pulse got weaker. He hoped he was wrong)

‎

"David. David ge--" he had to stop and swallow hard before continuing with a shaky voice, "get out of the car. Both of you. Ple- Please"

‎

David was smiling, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It shakes its head. His voice is barely above a whisper now

‎

"It's too late for us, Mark. You know that. Go save Starry, they still have a chance" David weakly flaps his hand. Mark is pretty sure it was trying to wave him off.

‎

Mark's brain chimes back in at that point, agreeing with David (Starry's breathing was definitely more uneven now, he can't afford to waste any more time-), but his body refused to move.

‎

"Thea?"

‎

The pause drags on forever. He already knows that it's no use, but that doesn't stop him from hoping

‎

This is taking too long

‎

Just as Mark turned and started walking away he heard David speak up "...hey, I think... I think you should go to Stan's after this. It's safe there. He'll look after you."

‎

Mark stopped walking, but he didn't dare turn back around. (The adrenaline was wearing off and he was already tearing up, turning back to face his friends? One of whom is already dead and one who's actively dying? He would have broken down right there and then)

‎

"Just.... Tell him I'm sorry, could you? You don't have to stay with him, but, please-"

‎

"Sure"

‎

And with that, Mark started speeding towards the house, where Zara was already nervously standing in the doorway, twisting their arms in uncertainty of what to do next. He shouldn't dwell. Life is for the living, after all.

‎

‎

‎

.

.

.

A good while after the sound of footsteps disappeared into the house, David tilted its head and pressed a kiss to Thea's forehead, before resting his head on top of hers

His voice was barely there now, a sound that could easily be mistaken for the rustle of the wind, or maybe a calm exhale.

.

.

.

art.void, craft.void, and write.void — pretty self-explanatory, it's the things I make!

oc.looks and oc.lore — also exactly what it says on the tin! For oc.looks, be aware that I often use Gacha Club and picrews since I can't really draw humans too well

yelling.voices — asks!

requests.to.the.void — what it says on the tin

lovely.moots — interactions with mutuals, including stuff I make for them, or what they make for me

progress.report — WIPs

not.mine — reblogs

void.speaks — unrelated updates and everything else