Stella had been sitting in the park for a while, just staring at the greenery surrounding her and the people slowly making their way through the area, when something plopped itself into her lap. She tensed, leaning as far back as possible while looking down at the pink round thing that was staring up at her. What was it? It would have been cute if she’d known what it was. What if it was dangerous? Why was it staring at her?
Blue eyes darted around, looking for someone to help her and finally landing on another girl. “Please get it off me.”
Something was familiar about her. Just what was it? He couldn’t quite put a finger on it right away. The hair and style of outfit reminded him of something. He quite possibly knew her from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember fully. As much as it bothered him, he didn’t feel himself getting anywhere with his memory. Was it something from long ago? It was possible considering how long he had been in the city. Popping a jelly bean into his mouth, a thought came to him. Sweets ... that reminded him of someone. Was it-- Ah, that’s right. He knew who she was through that girl.
“Oiy... You’re name is Miku, right? Friends with Gumi?” he would ask as he moved over to confirm what he believed. It’s been so long since he last seen that hyperactive, green-haired child. He also had a lot more sweets around without her stepping by each day.
TRUE END - Bittersweet ending. Some things go right, other things go wrong. Some sacrifices have to be made, but most people are happy in the end.
[ Since I have no idea how his story in Citta will go, I’m just gonna do a drabble about how things would’ve gone if the game’s story had ended a little better for him, but otherwise the same as the real true ending. ]
[ Based on the setting established in a fic I wrote, where he never came into contact with rads and was later rescued and taken to join the campfire mutants. Also using my own headcanons for everyone, which def shouldn’t be taken as law. ]
[ Also also this got long, and what the heck, I’m gonna put this in the tag. I was planning to write a fic about these two reaching the true ending together, so I guess this’ll be an early draft of the end of it? ]
And kings and queens of Wasteland we still are,After so many fights, the ground all in blood;Today is the day we will call ourselves free,And we’ll throw all our weapons into the sludge.
[ - HQ3 L1 - ]
…
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
Silence rang in the air for a few moments, before the bitter follow-up.
“Shoot me. This…is why you came all this way, isn’t it?”
A series of rattling coughs followed, more blood spat onto the once-pristine white tile. Still, there was no response.
She was a sad sight to behold, truly–a figure all in blue and gold, medals pinned to her lapels and a broken emblem on her helmet. On her hands and knees on the ground, breathing heavily, coughing and wheezing and spitting blood through the cracks in her visor, the strange blue energy-pack on her back that she’d used to attack them fizzling and sparking with arcs of cobalt electricity.
And yet, even as the Captain knelt before them, dying, her glare still held a sort of cold triumph behind her shattered visor.
“…C-cowards…To be honest I…thought better of you two…”
The Captain let out a bitter, wheezing chuckle, “Your…your idea of morality…not even letting you kill someone who’s already dying…p…pathetic…”
His small fists curled tightly around his rifle, and he could see his companion clenching her weapon’s tiny remote–she still had one charge left that would blow their greatest adversary to kingdom come.
But neither of them moved.
The Captain took a rattling breath, and spat onto the ground at their feet, letting out a string of Finnish curses. “And to think, all those worlds…you killed each other. A-and you. You laughed about it. Now you won’t even spare me this trouble…”
Rogue looked as if she wanted to say something, but Hunter cut her off, stepping forward and raising his rifle slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“It isn’t like that now. That isn’t the point.”
“Well what is the point, then?” Another long string of coughs, “…T-tell me…what are you going to do now?…Give me some idea of the future of this place…or can I not have even that.”
Hunter opened his mouth, then closed it with an audible snap. He glanced over to Rogue, but she seemed just as lost.
“…Life is full of…t-tough choices. Like I said…” A couple of deep breaths. “You’re in a position like me, you learn that fast…You can’t even make this one…”
Hunter took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He checked his ammunition, knelt, and raised his rifle so it was pointing directly into his old superior’s face, setting it to single-fire. His eyes held their own hard light, and yet he seemed far more tired than someone of his supposed age should be. He was drawn, wrung out, empty. There was nothing left.
“…Let me put it this way, ma’am,” he said, his voice flat, “…If things go the way we want them to, this is the last time I’ll ever have to do this.”
The shot rang deafeningly, so loud that neither clearly heard the woman crumple. Hunter stood and turned away from the sight as quickly as he could, the rifle fumbling from his hands and clattering onto the ground. He stared at the ground for a few moments, taking several shaky breaths, before looking up at his friend.
She looked as tired as he felt, but she nodded, once.
They both stumbled towards the Captain’s desk. The floor of the large room was blackened in many places, from many explosions, dented and buckled; bullet holes riddled the walls and windows. A single potted plant was overturned in the corner. Papers were scattered everywhere, most of them burned to near-ashes. Among the ruins of the Captain’s overturned desk was a broken tablet with the department’s emblem, a pictureframe face-down, and what looked to be the remains of a shattered mug sitting in a puddle of coffee, the nearest piece of which had a heart painted on it. In the middle of it all was a great blue flame, some manner of power source–and everywhere around were strewn chunks of mahogany and shards of broken glass.
Neither of them seemed to care about the state of the room, however, as they both sat down behind the blue flame, both of them protected from the glass by their respective armors. He watched her quietly for a long few moments, as she stared into the fire. Her respirator hung around her neck by one strap; she’d taken it off shortly after they’d arrived, just like he had. Blood was dried on his upper lip, his nose crooked from where his face had violently met the airbag of the van they’d jacked to get here.
“…Well…” she mused, shaking her head, “…The struggle is over.”
He nodded, crossing his legs as best he could under him. Both of them tried to avoid catching a glimpse of the Captain’s body.
“…We should probably feel bad about this,” Hunter mused with a bitter smirk. “I just…can’t, though.”
“Heh. You too, huh?” Rogue finally glanced over at him, “Maybe later?”
“Maybe later.”
A long silence passed between them; not uncomfortable, just unbelievably exhausted, both too drained to feel anything at all.
Finally, Hunter spoke. “…At least we’re both alive.”
“Yeah. We are.”
That wasn’t enough and he knew it, as her hand went to the bloodstained, ratty scarf she’d kept around her neck, their only memento from the IDPD’s bloody ambush at the campfire, when they’d fought that…that monstrosity that might’ve been the Nuclear Throne.
And yet…it was more than they probably should’ve gotten. Before the fight had begun, she’d lectured them; told them about all the times they’d ended each other’s lives, when he’d become a radhead and lost his mind. He didn’t know if any of it was true or not. But if it was…was this the good timeline? The good ending? The best one they could get?
“…I don’t get it,” Rogue said, with a sigh, stirring him from his thoughts. “We were supposed to protect people. So…”
“…Why is everyone dead,” he finished. He tilted his head, considering. “…I guess…in the end, we really can’t change time…some things’re just…supposed to happen. I don’t really like leaving a trail of blood behind me, either, but…apparently…that’s what I always do.”
His chin dropped to his chest, and he felt her hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t get like that, half-stack. That isn’t now.”
“What is now?” He didn’t even bother looking up, “What about what she said–what do we do now? Do we take over this place or–”
“I have no idea and honestly, I am too fucking tired to care. We’ll figure it out later.”
Hunter leaned his head against the side of his friend’s armor, and they just listened to each other breathing for a few moments, confirming that despite everything, they were still alive.
“…M-maybe we can save them…” he mused. There had to be some other world, some other time…
Rogue flinched, reaching up with her free hand and curling it in the scarf, a look of pain in her eyes.
“Maybe. Maybe we can.”
“I’m tired.”
She ruffled his hair a bit, with a very weak smile. “Me too.”
Hunter laid down and rested his head in her lap, and she clung to him as if afraid of what would happen if she let go. They were alive. That was all they could really say for themselves right now–they were alive, and the Department wasn’t going to be continuing its tyranny…but with all the destruction left behind, he couldn’t help but wonder how much it mattered. The mutants they’d run with were dead, the world they’d left was collapsing in on itself. The apocalypse hadn’t been reversed, and after seeing the Throne that they’d assumed would be able to make it so, they weren’t sure if anything could fix that.
But they were alive. Out of all the timelines and all the possibilities, they were alive at the end of it.
As soon as he spots her, he’s there in a flash, his expression tinted with some awkward excitement. These parties are new.
“You’re here too...! Ah, I didn’t think-- I mean, it’s something fun to do, right? I just... I-I’m hoping I don’t look too out of place here.” He gives a brief gesture to his attire, laughing softly.
@cv01android ❤'d for a starter ll Still open! -0- Adam brushes by the girl and then stops, looking to her, "Ah apologies I was too involved with my..." he shuts the book in his hand and laughs lowly, "You're a machine too, aren't you?"
Oh god he’s so lost. Lost with a map he’s having difficulties reading, a handful of currency which he has no idea how long will last, and a very empty stomach. Just great. If he had his assortment of items on him, he could probably scrape together a few emergency rations, but as is?
He was going to starve.
Great.
And everyone here was much taller than him, so he hasn’t been able to get any of their attention.
This is when he notes someone walking by with very long hair-- right in range of his hands. He really shouldn’t..... But at this point, he’s desperate.
Ixtharion jogs after the lady and very gently tugs on one of her pony-tails. “Um, do pardon the rude way of getting your attention, miss, but could I please ask for some help? I arrived here last night, and so far I haven’t managed to find my assigned living quarters.”
