Teyvatian Idiot (Part 2 Episode 1 Part 3)
Summary: After overexerting yourself to the point of collapse, you find yourself awoken by the first friendly face you see, ever. What complicates things, however, is that said friendly face works for the very organization that wants you dead. Great.
Out of the blue, you feel something cold wash over your face, and it feels as if you were drowning. Waking up from unconsciousness, you jolted and coughed out as if you choked on water, which you did.
“Cough, cough, cough! Bah, fuck! Shit… fucking hell…”
After letting loose a flurry of profanities, you snap back to reality. Blinking a few times, the first thing you caught in your vision was what seemed to be a young, bigger man, crouching in front of you with a canteen in his hand. He seems to be observing you.
“That took longer than I had initially expected. You should know that it’s quite dangerous here when you’re this deep into these trails.”
Wait a damn minute, is that…
You rub your eyes, and holy shit.
That’s Al-Haitham. Al-Haitham Genshin Impact.
He’s supposed to be a damn video game character, but here he is in the flesh, literally looking down on you, squatting down on your level, and of course, insanely hot as ever.
Damnit, you shouldn’t be thinking that! He’s about to kill you!
You then try as inconspicuously as possible to search for your weapons. Those efforts prove to be for naught, as for starters your rifle is nowhere to be seen. Your pistol? Definitely not in your holster. He must’ve disarmed you while you were out cold. Almost forgot he’s like, really smart.
Realizing violence will be a REALLY BAD idea, you try diplomacy.
“You… ehem… you’re not gonna kill me, right?” You plead, your throat exceptionally dry.
“Kill you?” He scoffs. “That’s something I should be asking you.”
As soon as he said that, Al-Haitham assumed a fighting stance and his sword appeared right before your very eyes; your heart almost stopped beating right when the scribe pointed the sharp blade under your chin.
“Judging from your odd attire, you’re clearly not from this area. In fact, I've never seen a uniform like this before.” His head tilts to the side. “The artillery you have is definitely not familiar either, what’s your purpose here?”
Oh man, now you really are doomed. Thinking your throat’s going to get filleted, you try and explain your situation in an attempt to make sure that does NOT happen.
“Man, I-I don’t know alright?! Hell, I don’t know how the hell I got here to begin with!” You plead, understandably not wanting your neck to be scored.
The blade suddenly leaves your chin, making you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Right then and there, your heart felt like it had returned after it had fallen out of your own body. The scribe then does a more thorough inspection of you, studying your kit, and especially your equipment.
And as for you, you can not believe that worked, but here you were, still alive (shockingly). Now, to get answers and hopefully survive.
You rubbed your neck to try and make yourself feel a bit more comfortable after having the scribe’s sword close to your throat. You then forced yourself up back on your feet, this time having a suspiciously easier time than usual. You look back at yourself, and just like that, your rucksack is gone. Now missing three important items in your kit, your eyes dart the surroundings again.
They’re nowhere to be seen.
Not wanting to risk death, you continue your diplomatic overtures, albeit with a more commanding tone.
“Thank you, now… what do you want from me? And where the hell are my guns and ruck?”
“That will be elaborated on later,” he coldly responds.
His hand tightens on the handle of his sword, and nods to a direction indicating where your stuff might be.
“As for your items, they are hidden in those bushes, you’ll have to fetch them yourself.”
You force yourself up, now a lot easier without that 10 ton (not really) rucksack constantly weighing you down. However, you’ve still got some burning questions you need answers for, so you don’t go retrieve your stuff just yet.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet, anyway? You’re Akademiya, right? Aren’t you losers supposed to take me to Azar or something? And what’s this ‘bout me needing you?”
“I can’t just kill the Creator of All Teyvat. That’d be incredibly sinful on my end, wouldn’t it, Your Grace?”
Even though that was meant as a joke, you couldn’t help but have chills from just how serious the scribe sounded, did he even take his own job seriously? And that “Creator of All Teyvat” and “Your Grace” part, is this all some insane PSYOP that the Akademiya’s pulling on you? No matter, you should probably focus on getting your stuff back.
Al-Haitham then looks up at a nearby tree; seems like he had thoughts of his own. “Seeing how you've handled the Matra, I must say I’m impressed. Having you taken away would waste such talent.”
“Right…” You mutter to yourself.
Knowing, Al-Haitham, your questions aren’t going to be answered now, so you give up and go retrieve your stuff. You begin to make your way to the bush that should have said stuff, occasionally glancing back at the scribe to see if he’ll jump you. This paranoia makes you begin to overthink, causing you to monologue in that noggin of yours.
”Shit, is he gonna kill me yet? I mean, if he wanted to, he would’ve done it long ago. But like, what if he’s waiting for a better time to serve my head on a silver platter to Azar? Wait, isn’t he, like, not loyal to Azar anyway? Why’d he do that then? Ah, hell, he’ll probably give me a better answer down the line anyway.”
With that messy mental gymnastics performance ending in a flop, you finally reach said bush and start digging into it to relocate your stuff. First, your rucksack. It doesn’t take that long to find it despite the thing being dyed in woodland camo—it was huge after all. Learning from your first attempt, you manage to wrangle the rucksack back onto your back with less hassle, only stumbling once. Good job.
With one out of three vital pieces of kit relocated, you rummage back into the bush to find your M16A2. You’re forced to feel around for the damn thing blind as the bush limits your visibility, but you manage to fish it out after poking yourself on the bush six or seven times. Wearing the rifle via its sling, you give it a quick inspection like those first-person shooter games (learn from the best, right?), looking at the rifle’s left and right side before pulling the charging handle slightly back to see if there’s any ammunition remaining.
To your dismay, there’s only one, singular, round.
“Come the hell on…” You mutter to yourself.
There’s nothing you can do about it now, so you let the rifle rest on your body via its slinv and go in one last time for the pistol. Luckily, Al-Haitham hid the two firearms close to each other, so it doesn’t take as long for you to relocate your sidearm. Like the rifle, you give the M9 a quick inspection, and unlike your rifle, it turns out that there’s more ammunition in the pistol. Finally having relocated and reassembled your kit, you shove your pistol in its holster and turn to the scribe, your arm resting on the rifle.
“So… uh… now what? Obviously, you’re not gonna fuckin’, y’know, serve my head on a silver platter to Azar, but seriously what do we do next?” You ask.
“Simple. You lay low in my house while–”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.. Your house, right?”
“Are you insane?! That’s in Sumeru City; I’ll get spotted like hell in there!”
“Azar put a curfew in place ages ago in anticipation of your arrival. There’ll be less people that will be alerted of your presence.”
“Well that’s just fuckin’ great. If I get spotted there, I’ll get my head served on a silver platter to Azar for sure thanks to that uptick in Matra goons roaming the streets.”
“Which is why I’ve come up with a plan to smuggle you in.”
You stay quiet. Is it really the wisest of choices to trust the guy who not only tried to kill you, but is working for the organization who is hellbent on putting your head on a pike?
“Yeah, no. I’m not going through with whatever the hell you’ve got planned for me,” you reply.
And just as you’re about to continue your trek to Port Ormos, Al-Haitham interrupts you at the last second.
“Fine by me, then. Keep going by yourself. Based on the footsteps you left, and the direction you passed out, you were headed from Port Ormos. Azar put in a curfew for every city, you know, and the one on your destination is exceptionally harsh,” the scribe says in that infuriating, iconic tone of his.
You stop, take a heavy breath of frustration, look up, and then look at him.
“Fine. What does your little operation entail, o wise scribe?” You ask, sarcasm dripping from your mouth.
You swear you can see that little shit smirk.
“As I was saying, you lay low in my house while I figure out how to integrate you into my investigation regarding Azar’s project. Based on my findings, you appear to play a critical role,” he explains. “Reaching my house will be a simple task; the guards rotate from day shift to night shift in an hour, and it takes a considerable amount of time for the night shift guards to arrive at their posts, and the day shift guards would have been gone by now. And with the curfew in effect, all of Sumeru City will be virtually empty.”
“Meaning… they have a blindspot we can use to get in,” you realize.
“Correct. Are you in?” Al-Haitham asks.
“...sure,” you answer reluctantly. Based on the information he gave you, it’d be stupid to refuse.
“Glad to hear, Your Eminence. If we start now, we can make it with around ten minutes to spare.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you answer dismissively.
Just now, you remembered that nearly everyone in Sumeru uses the Akasha system. And knowing that you still left that one Matra guy still alive, you deduce that information about how you look, fight, and sound has already spread like wildfire. So with that, you try to conceal your identity with the gas mask you have on hand.
“Actually, give me a minute, I have to put on some stuff,” you add.
“Alright. Make it quick,” Al-Haitham orders.
With that, you take off your PASGT helmet and set it off to the side before you find the gas mask pouch. It takes a while, but you eventually find it and grab the mask. It’s a M40 gas mask, and much like everything else in your kit, it hasn't been issued since the 2000s. You pull back on the strap and put it on your head. Immediately, it becomes harder for you to breathe. It takes a while for you to readjust the mask so it fits snugly on your head, but eventually you do. Once snug, you quickly adjust the M40’s filter with your palm before throwing the MOPP suit’s hood over your head and tighten it so, like the gas mask, it fits well on your head. Like the mask, it takes a while for you to adjust the thing, but it eventually does what you want it to do. With all that out of the way, you put on your helmet and you’re ready, breath heavier than it should be.
“Okay, for real this time, I’m ready,” you say, speech muffled by the gas mask.
Without saying another word, Al-Haitham begins walking to Sumeru City, and you follow close behind, rifle in hand.
“Into the fuckin’ fire I go…” You mutter to yourself under the mask.
author’s notes: i counted to three guys!1!1!1!1!!!! i also got some help writing al-haitham from a good friend of mine, so that explains why some lines may seem a different. also² if you want to be tagged in the next part, do comment and i’ll be sure to tag you.
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