Night’s Commemoration
Tribute to the ask of ☮ + (Banner 01 waking up Typhon 05 from a nightmare)
@fireteamhouston
“Brother!” The voice cried, echoing like a massive empty room. It was hard to see and focus, once more...he was in a black storm of ash or something. Hard, even for his optics, to make immediate detail. Even when he have a distinctive sense of deja vu. “Brother! Over here!”
Typhon twisted about until he saw the one calling him with such familiarity. An armored figure with the tails of a tattered cloak fluttering to the harsh winds, rifle in hand. The streaks of passing projectiles dancing around them with more shadowy figures were advancing to an unseen enemy.
His body felt no connection of limbs, but he was moving - felt like running underwater - towards the waving figure. Closer and closer, the gilt armor that shone in muted light was almost blinding in a way. It hid the caller’s features well but male it certainly was.
However, with a voice willed from Typhon hollered, “Look out!”
Both of them turned their head to see something peering through the storm. A singular glowing eye with a droning siren-like growl. The scorch hammer charging.
“Minotaur!”
His body jolted and a mumbling scramble forced from the sleeping Titan’s vocalizers. Nearby, Banner watched. He noticed Typhon has been having these ‘nightmares’ lately. Since the celebration of the Black Garden’s decommission and temporary R&R for the Mars teams, the older mech has been sleeping uneasily.
“No.” An audible mutter. “Hm?”
“No!” Typhon roared, his body bowing to see to check on his wounded comrade. A name echoed with him, it was hard to remember. To hear. The armor was still flawless despite the scorches down, a scowling sideburned mask covered his face. Down on a knee, the fellow soldier grabbed his forearm and pulled him close. “D-don’t stop.” In response, the figure before him turned more jaded and oozing with a distorting figure. A roar ripped through the air, Typhon didn’t know from where. Was it from him?
Suddenly, pulling a weapon so black that it oozed with the same substance that ripped through the air. With an alarming swiftness that even startled Typhon in this almost natural ride as he twisted and made a savage leap from the remnants of their previous cover.
“Se-” A voice called, but it was too late. Vengeance burned in his being, hotter than anything he has ever felt. Uncontrollable and wild.
Pillars of smoke trailed under him, pelting the materializing Minotaur of silver hide.
Grabbing his weapon in both hands, Typhon crashed against the shrieking opponent. Right before it changed into a horned shadow. Red optics flaring like hell-lights and a toothy maw howling a banshee’s scream.
“Typhon!” A voice called in a quiet whisper, jerking the Exo into a barely controlled wake. He felt hot still, the heat of crackling ions caught his attention and immediately his body was rerouting and activating its cooling systems. His scalp was gripped tight by his own claws, turning it slightly to see who saved him from his dream.
It was Banner.
Immediately, he made the mimicry of a sigh and with it, hisses of steam wisped from his body. “Y-yeah…?”
“You alright?”
“...Yeah.”
There was pressure warning of continuation, but instead, the small brown mech pressed his brow and lips on the red striker’s head. A pop of connecting arc-light passed, making Typhon huff.
“Get to bed, Pup...sorry if I woke ya.” The gravelly-voiced veteran muttered.