An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Less than a week away from the end of the world, Mike begins to see The Clock.
Which means he must have some deep-seated guilt – or shame. Something Vecna can leverage against him. But the problem is: he doesn't.
So what if he's terrified of losing Will again? That's not weird. That's normal. It's called being a good friend.
Which Will obviously isn't, because he refuses to tell Mike what HIS secret is that's making him vulnerable to Vecna's possessions. And now it's Mike's job to keep Will tied up and blindfolded at his side at all times, just when Will inconveniently starts having very soft-looking lips and gleaming hair and-
It's fine. This is fine.
---
This fic has taken, with permission, some liberties with this and this prompt
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku
Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku
Additional Tags: During Canon, Fast Burn, Autumn, Festivals, Sneaking Out, Late Night Conversations, Pining Bakugou Katsuki, Romantic Bakugou Katsuki, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, they both get their hug!, Fix-It, kind of tehe idk, Drunken Confessions, Midoriya Izuku confronts his emotions, Not Beta Read
Summary:
The hallway light spills into Katsuki’s room, plunging his best friend into shadow that the blonde has to work a little to figure out. He’s dressed in the same sleep shirt and shorts he wore all the way back in first year, though he’s filled the clothes all the way out now, Katsuki can’t help but notice. Hair slightly mussed, as though he’d been sleeping just a little while before he knocked for Katsuki. The scar on his cheek wrinkles a little with his precocious smile. To say he looks good would be an understatement, but Katsuki has long since exhausted his vocabulary trying to describe Izuku.
Izuku and Katsuki sneak out to watch a movie... Ish.
Click "keep reading" to read here, or you can read on Ao3
Summary: The dust had settled on the corpses of Millennium’s soldiers 30 years prior but Alucard, still bound by Schrödinger’s power, remained trapped within himself. He’d slain countless souls, each one a reminder of a life he stole when he was the No-Life King. As the waves of enemies wane and Alucard’s mind clears, his body starts to fail him, finally giving in to his decades-long starvation. But just as he’s given up, Alucard must face one last demon from his past before he can finally be put to rest. A piece of the vampire’s long-forgotten human life given sentience by Van Helsing’s experiments. A part of him that was locked away along with all of Alucard’s greatest abilities: Vlad Drăculea.
Alucard panted softly as he lowered his arm, eyeing one of the humans as it died. Its body collapsed around the hand-sized hole in its chest before withering away to dust. The blood dried in an instant and flaked off of Alucard’s hand, taunting him for the thousandth - no - millionth time. He licked his lips; he could hardly remember what blood tasted like. How long had he been stuck in this wretched place?
He raised his hand and a shadowy tendril crept out from the depths of his coat, spearing another shambling ghoul as it tried to attack him from behind. The ghoul’s cry cut through the silence, then just as quickly cut off as its body withered away. Alucard groaned and knelt to the ground, the shadow receding. He shouldn’t keep using his powers like that, not when he was so exhausted. He might need them if he encountered another horde, though they’ve been few and far between for… well, he couldn't tell how long.
He eyed the nothingness before him, the stark white as harsh on his eyes as ever. There’d been fewer and fewer creatures for a while now, and even with his vampiric abilities, he couldn’t see or sense any other living thing within the blank expanse. He should’ve felt relieved; without a million things trying to kill him, he could finally focus on trying to find a way out of here. But after countless times scouring the vast prison, he had never found a single identifiable marking or object, much less a way in or out.
What, then, was the purpose in all this? Why did he keep fending off these enemies? Whether human, ghoul, werewolf, vampire, animal, or any other worthless creature, what was the point in fighting them if they might bring him some sort of escape from this Hell? Or maybe he was in Hell already and there wouldn’t be an escape. That mad Major had finally killed him and this was his curse for all eternity, fighting all the souls within him. Only, he had yet to see any of his victims return to try and kill him again. Between this and the sudden silence, he had reason to believe he was nearing the end of his purgatorial sentence.
His body was weak but his mind became clearer with each dead enemy. The power bestowed by the souls he once hoarded within himself had slowly diminished as they continued to attack him, leaving a different sensation growing in their place. Alucard felt his body flicker at times, causing him to quickly disappear and appear elsewhere without his knowledge or control. It wasn’t something he had dwelt on until now, though, and as he thought of this power again, a feeling of unease crept into him.
“I don’t have time for this,” he said, sweeping his gaze over the endless void for what must’ve been the thousandth time. It was too quiet now, his ears ringing in the absence of noise. The groans and screams that had been ever-present since his arrival were completely gone and he still saw no sign of escape in this vast expanse. He knew it couldn’t be as simple as killing them all. He must find a way out. There had to be a way out.
Alucard stalked the endless boundaries of his prison for as long as he could stand, every second weighing on him as the adrenaline from the fighting finally began to wear off. The feeling of unease continued to gnaw at him, growing stronger as he grew weaker. His very being felt unstable, like his soul was trying to tear itself in two. At times his thoughts wandered and it felt like he was in two places at once, his brain struggling to comprehend either in his exhausted state. Still, he tried to push it to the back of his mind, struggling against this strange feeling in an effort to focus on his escape.
It was fruitless. When the old vampire finally collapsed to the ground he clenched his jaw, a fresh bout of fatigue washing over him. It had been a long time since he starved to death, and this time there wouldn’t be a Hellsing to save him. He would’ve laughed at such a pitiful thought if it weren’t for the odd feeling gnawing at the back of his skull. So much for killing all those souls. He couldn’t even have a moment to enjoy the mental clarity before his body started giving out.
He tried to steel his mind, gathering the last of his strength to focus on the ground in front of him. There must be a way out. He must get back to them: his Master, his servant. Alucard had longed for death for longer than he could remember, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He couldn’t die after abandoning them like that. No honor, no bravado, just turning to dust because of the antics of an insane Nazi. If he couldn’t be slain by a creature more worthy than himself and if he couldn’t make his long un-life worth something, it would have all been a waste. The thought made him sick.
There was no telling how much time had passed since he was stripped away from the mortal realm. The moment of his disappearance still weighed heavily on him even as he lay in a heap. He wished he could tell the others how he tried to return, how he struggled against the hordes in the hopes of finding a way to go back home, but now it all seemed so hopeless. His chance for escape had drifted away into the same nothingness that swallowed up every creature he’d slain while stuck in this place. He sighed as he laid on the ground. Now, it seemed, it was his turn.
“Are we to die like a piteous dog?”
Alucard lifted his head. The voice was his own, but different. Maybe he really was losing it.
The voice spoke again: “I’ve waited a long time to say my piece on your actions. Or rather, your inaction.”
“It’s you, then.” Alucard’s eyes narrowed. “Me.”
“Us,” said the voice, deep and heavily-accented. A silhouette formed out of Alucard’s shadow, stepping away from his body as it took the shape of his long-dead self: the Voivode of Wallachia. Vlad stood before Alucard, arms crossed, matching the vampire hunter’s distasteful look with one of his own.
Alucard’s mind was sent spinning. He knew he had recognized that feeling somewhere. Though if his Level 0 form - his ancient self - was truly here, he couldn’t be sure. He vaguely remembered something about the brain’s last-ditch attempt at survival, all its chemicals consolidating to form a vivid hallucination to help ease the body into its final sleep. Alucard’s life wasn’t flashing before his eyes now, though. Not like it had when he was first sent here.
Alucard lifted himself up on his elbows. “So you decide to show yourself. I don’t have time for your lecturing.”
“Do you not understand yet, Alucard? Has the solitude done nothing to sharpen your mind?”
Alucard looked past him, still searching for an escape. “Can’t say I do. Fighting for your life doesn’t leave much time for ruminating.” He continued crawling along the ground, still trying to wrack his exhausted brain for any inkling of an escape. Then, another wave of dread swept over him and he gasped, his whole body feeling like he was in free-fall. Without warning, the endless void disappeared for a heartbeat and he was somewhere else. It was noisy there, the blank space replaced by a slew of sights and sounds, but before Alucard could grasp what it was, he was in the void again. He looked around and this time Vlad was far away, nothing but a speck against the endless white.
“The Hell?” Alucard’s mind reeled as the feeling of unease slowly abated. He hadn’t seen anything like that since he’d been here. Was this place fucking with him somehow? Now that all the ghouls were gone, was he the only one subject to the void’s strangeness?
‘Look at you.’ Vlad’s voice was in Alucard’s head, then just as suddenly, he could hear Vlad speaking from behind him: “Tattered and torn, one would think you weak for letting a few ghouls bring you this low. And to think this all could be avoided if you hadn’t given up so easily.”
Alucard glared at him. “And what help have you been?”
“None.” He grinned. “You are our source, the only one who can free us. I am powerless except to guide you to the answer.”
“How convenient. I think you just came to waste time so we’ll die faster.”
“If you say so. Though you know you haven’t yet exhausted all your escape routes.”
Alucard swept a clawed hand at Vlad and the ancient Voivode’s form flickered, the shadows briefly warping before resuming their original shape.
Vlad raised his eyebrows. “You’ve enough strength for anger, so you must have the strength to escape. Yet you purposefully ignore the solution that is right in front of you.”
“Convenient that all you can do is scold me.” Alucard continued crawling, his mind running through at least a dozen different ways he’d like to eviscerate the specter of his old self. The feeling of unease started to claw back into his mind again and he tried to push it aside, urged forward by his rising anger.
Vlad was silent for a long moment, then: “Are you afraid, Alucard?”
He set his jaw. “You know already. You’re in my head.”
“I do, but if you won’t admit it to yourself, you will continue to hold us back.”
Alucard pulled himself up onto his knees. “I didn’t know I carried a smart-ass old sage in my brain. Where was all this wisdom when your kingdom fell apart?”
“That time is past us.” It was Vlad’s turn to narrow his eyes. “If you are not afraid, then what holds you back?”
Alucard rose to his feet. “What about Radu? What about your execution? Weren’t you afraid? Where was your wisdom then?”
“We have suffered and learned from my failings already, we don’t need to-“
“ I have suffered from them!” Alucard stepped towards Vlad, jabbing a finger at him. “What about William? Arthur? Where were you then? Why pester me now?”
“I did not have a choice. The restrictions forbade me from appearing.”
“That’s never stopped you from giving your thoughts. Disapproving but never helping; your arrogance knows no bounds.”
“I am trying to help you now!” Vlad loomed near Alucard, his figure broad and imposing with his armor.
“Your usefulness died with your army,” Alucard spat. “If all you’re here to do is wax lyrical about dying, then I’ll have to kill you, too.”
Vlad pursed his lips.
“There’s nothing different now.” Alucard gestured to him. “One mad King without his kingdom and nothing useful to provide. It’s a wonder William allowed you to exist.”
“But there is something different. We can both feel it.”
The words gave Alucard pause. Aside from the feeling of unease, there was something else fundamentally wrong about this whole situation. For one, his ancient self was here in the flesh, talking to him in a way he never had before.
Vlad’s gaze softened. “The restrictions. Our Master released them before we came to this place, but they appear to have remained unlocked. Or, I fear…”
Alucard swallowed, his dry throat sticking uncomfortably to itself. “There might be no-one left to hold our leash.”
Vlad nodded. “Of course, there is no way of knowing for sure. But we will never find out if you cannot get over yourself and try .”
“Try what , exactly?” Alucard glared at Vlad again. “I’ve tried everything since coming here. Scoured every inch of blank space, killed every last enemy before me, and yet here you are: wasting my god-damned time!”
“There is one last way. You felt it before, when you first came here. And again as you grow weaker. Yet even now you are too conflicted to use it, even when we may be wasting precious time.”
“Watch yourself, Mad King,” Alucard scowled. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“What? That you may not truly want to return?”
“Enough!” Alucard raised his hands, calling upon the dark powers sequestered within him. Shadows roiled around him and Vlad’s form wavered again.
The ancient king stood his ground. “Are you afraid of what it might do to you? Or are you afraid of what you might find when you return?”
Alucard swept his hands towards Vlad, commanding the shadows that made up his body. They rose at once without a sound, grotesquely stretching Vlad’s form before splitting off to either side, ripping him in two. Alucard gasped with the effort and collapsed to the ground again, the shadows quickly retreating back towards his body. His past self’s voice no longer chastised him; Alucard was alone at last.
Finally, some peace and quiet. He sighed again, his energy somewhat rejuvenated from the spat, but soon, the feeling of weakness began to creep over him again. His mind still toyed with the questions Vlad posed to him: was he afraid of returning? Why return in the first place? If it was to appease Integra, why bother if she might not be alive?
Alucard shook his head, resuming his stalking through the blank expanse. After all this time, was there any real reason why he was fighting to return? Was it just an animal instinct? Had anything really changed to make him no longer crave death? And so what if he did manage to return, would they be there to greet him? Would anything be the same with them? With him?
These questions crashed like ocean waves in his mind when suddenly, the feeling of dread welled within him again and he groaned, unable to focus his mind to hold it back. The endless void disappeared again, replaced by the place he’d visited during his earlier episode. Noise filled his ears like the collection of a hundred different conversations taking place at once, but it soon faded into a dull roar. As he regained his focus he could see a hundred glassy surfaces displayed before him, each one containing a moving image of some sort. Alucard stepped closer and he could see various people and places, each one like a self-contained moment in time playing before his eyes. The longer he looked the more he realized something was off; each place or person was connected to him in some way. People and places he’d visited or seen in the memories stolen from other’s blood were on full display. It was eerie, like a camera was always positioned overhead.
“Amazing, ja? You get used to it after a while.”
Alucard whipped his head around at yet another new voice. It was sickeningly sweet, and if he didn’t recognize it, he might even call it ‘innocent’. It was the unkillable cat-boy that Millennium cooked up, the wretched were-creature sauntering towards him as he curled a lock of his hair. Alucard’s hand twitched and he found himself missing his firearms more than ever.
Schrödinger grinned, sitting on the ground next to Alucard. “I thought it would be boring staring at someone else’s scenery for all eternity, but yours is very entertaining!”
Alucard narrowed his eyes but turned his attention back to the wall of moving pictures. He couldn’t tell if these were the past, present, or future, or if he was just imagining it all. What was the boy implying? Is this how he traveled to and fro, avoiding death? Was this the ticket home that Vlad oh-so-helpfully tried coaxing him towards?
“You’re the last one standing, then,” Alucard said, still not looking at the Cat.
“Silly vampire.” He tilted his head. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. It’s no fun waiting for your turn to die.”
Alucard gritted his teeth. He scoured the wall for something more familiar than a brief acquaintance or a place he’d only visited once, trying to recognize a pattern within the chaos. He reached out for one of the visions and as he touched it, the feeling of unease clutched at his mind again, forcing him to withdraw.
Schrödinger yawned. “If you won’t let me escape, you could at least give me a quick death. You really can’t blame me for trying to do the same to you.”
Alucard snapped his gaze towards the Cat. “What the Hell are you on about?”
He giggled. “Aw, like a lost doggie trying to find its way back to its owner. Would you bark for me if I gave you a treat?” Schrödinger drew a finger across his neck where the knife wound still split his skin and his head lolled to the side at an unnatural angle. He stuck out his tongue. “My last treat didn’t agree with you.”
Alucard ignored him at first but then his eyes widened as a familiar smell punctuated the air. Blood. Real, warm blood. Alucard waited with bated breath for one heartbeat, then another, to see if Schrödinger would disappear like all the other corpses had, but the boy remained, bleeding all over the floor.
The were-creature opened his mouth again but his voice died in his throat. Alucard was upon him in an instant, tearing into the boy with teeth and claws until the Cat was reduced to a pile of gore on the floor. Blood at first pooled around the body but soon retreated towards Alucard, reinvigorating him as he absorbed it. Clarity washed over his mind within seconds, making him feel as though he’d woken up from a long slumber. It wasn't much blood, but it was much more than he'd had in a long time, and now, as he stood before the fall over reflective portals, he slowly came to realize the true purpose of the room that the Cat had sequestered himself in.
Alucard watched the innumerable moving images. One displayed a picturesque view of a nighttime city. Another, a woman decorated with white body paint. And another, the inside of an imposing Catholic church. These scenes were all initially unfamiliar to him but as his gaze lingered, the details crept up from the depths of his brain: Seattle, Washington, viewed from the top floor of The Westin. Jedda, an Aboriginal and mother to two sons. And finally, St. Stephan's Cathedral in Austria, a hallowed place even older than the King of Vampires himself.
Alucard narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t unfamiliar with accessing memories from the souls he’d absorbed; he would commonly call upon them for missions or for his own amusement. It was, however, unusual to have them accessible all at once with such clarity.
He looked back to the image of the Aboriginal woman. His borrowed memory told him something wasn’t right about her; Jedda’s face was older with wrinkles where there were none before and when she smiled, a few of her teeth were missing. This was all wrong; things never changed in these stolen memories. The blood of his victims could only conjure images from the past, never the present or future. But maybe this person’s memory was flawed.
Alucard felt his gaze drawn over the other scenes, unease rising within him again - a truck rolling down a gravel road, a snow-covered car park - both older and more disheveled than he remembered. Other images flashed before him - a dark alleyway, a moaning woman, twin siblings sharing a beer - he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Munich, Zhouzhuang, Tromsø, Fort Smith - his mind was quickly filling with a cacophony of memories, none of them his own - forests, graveyards, bullets, sunlight, flowers, ho-
Alucard was in the void again. His heart ached; no, he was on that hill again, watching his final sunrise. He blinked. No, that can’t be right. He’s somewhere enclosed; he reached out into the darkness and felt the cool wooden wall of his coffin. Then, just as quickly, all these scenes began to overlay and blur together as the feeling of unease reared its head. It was like the sensation of staring at oneself in a mirror surrounded by other mirrors, each one infinitely warping the reflection until the reflection disappears into darkness. His mind and body were trying to separate from one another, each pulled in a hundred directions at once. Alucard cried out and a dozen deafening echoes followed. The pain was too much. All of this was too much.
Suddenly, the feeling of unease abated and Alucard collapsed to the ground. Bloody bile rose in his throat and he voided the measly contents of his stomach. It took a few minutes for him to recover, his body wracked by the onslaught of information. He was still shaking and his ears were still ringing when he stood again and realized he was back in the room where he found the Cat. The moving images peeked at him from the corner of his eyes and he quickly looked away.
What was all of that? Was this somehow the Cat’s doing?
Alucard strode away from the wall of images, and as he drew further, his mind became clearer. He could feel Schrödinger’s blood steadily permeating his body, lending him strength. He called upon the Cat’s blood, searching for a memory that might explain what the Hell any of this meant.
The boy’s strange life flashed before him: endless experiments, maniacal laughter, the sound of boots stomping one-by-one, Schrödinger flitting from place to place at will, then… Alucard narrowed his eyes. Millennium, the experiments, the Cat’s role in his untimely downfall, all were made plain to him. So the void was a purgatory of sorts, intended by the Nazis to lock Alucard away within himself for all eternity. Clever, he had to give them that. Too bad they didn’t factor in Schrödinger surviving long enough to reveal their secrets.
So that meant… He glanced at the wall of images. They looked so similar to the room that the Cat would use to appear and disappear at will. Was it possible that Alucard now had access to this power after killing Schrödinger once and for all?
The feeling of dreadful anticipation rose again and he averted his gaze. These strange sensations and random bouts of teleporting were easily explained by this revelation, but it still didn’t explain the discrepancies with the memories. If the Cat were a vampire it might make slightly more sense for his powers to function based on the memories gleaned from drinking blood, but even if Schrödinger weren’t a were-creature, Alucard knew of few other vampires that were capable of harnessing blood in such a way.
It must be something different, then. The Cat’s powers must rely on the present time, otherwise he’d be infinitely more useful as a time traveler rather than an intangible - albeit annoying - messenger boy for Millennium. A sinking feeling hit the old vampire; it was evident from his earlier excursion that time had passed, since his victim’s memories didn’t match up with what was shown in this room.
Doubt welled within him again. Would there be anything left for Alucard to return to, if time truly had passed? His memories didn’t provide any gauge of how much time had gone by, and being stuck in the endless void didn’t afford Alucard many chances to guess how long he’d been there. For the better, maybe.
Vlad’s words echoed in his mind again. ‘Are you afraid of what it might do to you? Or are you afraid of what you might find when you return?’ The damned warlord had a point, unfortunately, but Alucard didn’t want to waste more time considering his guilty conscience’s thoughts on the matter.
He looked back to the wall of images. His mind didn’t stir with unease this time, though the sheer amount of information staring back at him was enough to set his head spinning. He assumed the feeling of dread was somehow linked to his ability to disappear and reappear at will, given his tendency to teleport whenever his mind lost focus. Which meant he would have to be sure of himself to travel anywhere with this power, or he’d risk getting hopelessly lost amongst the hundreds of thousands of places he had within his reach. There wasn’t any room in his mind for turmoil or second-guessing. Either he would escape, or he’d lose himself to the endless void for good.
He couldn’t be sure what would happen if he tried to use Schrödinger’s powers. He never tried to do so with any of the werewolves or other vampires he’d absorbed before, but none of them had affected him like the Cat’s had. He might create an existence even worse than his current one, stuck somewhere as a featureless thing barely existing on the edge of reality and unreality. Or, he could never try and instead starve to a point of hibernation, essentially dying within the void without anyone to resuscitate them with their blood.
Schrödinger’s power was his only avenue for change, even if it wasn’t effective as a means of escape. No matter if there was nothing waiting for him on the other side, no matter if using these powers might leave him fundamentally changed, he had to try. Even if it killed him.
With Schrödinger’s life-blood fueling him, Alucard had renewed energy to begin his search. He turned to look at the wall again, gradually accustoming himself to peering into the vast amount of visual information without becoming overwhelmed. He touched a hand to one image and it moved with him, shifting the others around it. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their organization, each scene as hopelessly jumbled as all the souls had been when he unleashed them upon Millennium. Though the longer Alucard stared, the more accustomed he became to parsing through them.
It wasn’t long before Alucard found scenes directly relating to him; first it was locations in England, then the countryside, then Hellsing employees, then the Hellsing manor itself. It took him aback when he first saw it. Last he knew, the building had been completely destroyed during Millennium’s petty little war stunt, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. Yet here it stood, rebuilt as if nothing had happened.
How long, then? How long would it take to rebuild such a structure? Months? Years? Alucard wasn’t familiar with the logistics of planning and executing such a large project but he hazarded to guess it would at least take several years for the whole ordeal. It was here where he was again faced with the reality of his situation: how much time had passed?
Even worse, he wasn’t able to see into the manor upon first examination. It was as though a dark cloud was cast over the entire building, blocking him from entering. The same happened whenever he tried to find someone he knew. Integra, Seras, the Frenchman, all were obscured from him. He could at least tell that they were still alive, which lifted some weight from his shoulders, but it was no less reassuring that he was unable to see them. He pushed it aside for now. At least he knew that Hellsing and its occupants still stood.
Now, with his mind somewhat put at ease, he could focus on harnessing the Cat’s powers. He looked to the opposite end of the ‘room’ where the wall of images seemed to cut off and he closed his eyes, searching in his mind for the feeling of dread that had been bugging him since his escape from the void. It seemed to hide from him now that he was actively trying to use it. The Cat’s endless annoyances now extended to the powers he’d inadvertently bestowed upon Alucard. He cursed the boy and again tried to focus on that strange feeling, picturing where he wanted to go in his mind’s eye.
Alucard gasped, stumbling back. It was as if the Cat’s powers were controlling him and not the other way around; his body felt strained and fragmented, like it was being pulled apart again, and Alucard was losing his grip on himself. His mind felt numb, like he was in a drunken state. His thoughts wandered aimlessly; would it be so bad if he just gave into that feeling? Wouldn’t all this pain and stress disappear if he just allowed himself to stop existing?
Then, he was falling and the room was closing in around him, everything growing dark except for a tiny speck of light at the corner of his vision. It wouldn’t be so bad to let go, now that he thought about it. At least he wouldn’t have to starve to death anymore…
His body jerked and he was suddenly himself again, his mind snapping out of the stupor that he nearly lost himself to. He looked around, realizing that he hadn’t gone anywhere, only stumbled to the ground in his confusion. He scowled and stood again. How the Cat managed to manifest and use this power was beyond his understanding, much less how its powers worked to begin with. But if he were to escape, he had to be determined to master this ability.
Alucard continued working at it for a long while, keeping track of the passage of time by the changes he observed in the outside world. Trees grew greener, then wilted, and died a dozen times over, carrying many seasons along with them as the old vampire became increasingly frustrated with his attempts at escape. He would not leave this prison until he was sure he could harness the Cat’s powers. As much as he wanted to leave, the risk wasn’t worth it.
Years dragged on and Alucard still found himself feeling unsure. His control waxed and waned, sometimes causing him to appear back into the void and other times causing him to lose himself entirely, making days pass by as though they were minutes wherein he no longer existed. These incidents were always the most concerning; Alucard had no recollection of the time in-between and only knew about it due to the changes observed on the wall of images. Even then, he couldn’t be sure exactly how much time had passed, only that he’d been gone for a long time. So he continued, day in and day out, working out the kinks of the Cat’s powers and trying to find a way to safely return home.
Alucard paced along the wall more frequently, his body and mind alike starting to deteriorate as the strength afforded from Schrödinger’s blood diminished. When he grew tired of toying with the Cat’s powers he passed the time by searching the Hellsing manor again, trying to find some weak point in the impenetrable darkness surrounding the building. Then, one day, as if hearing his silent pleas, he was suddenly able to peer into the mansion as well as any other building he’d seen.
Unfamiliar faces littered the building from staff, to soldiers, to what appeared to be Vatican agents, with the latter hurriedly leaving. Alucard’s lips pursed as one familiar face appeared within the hallway: the Frenchman, though something was very wrong. He materialized from the wall as if he were a shadow, his form wavering as he shook his wrist in what appeared to be… pain? Then, another familiar sight: Seras running down the hall to greet him, talking quickly as she looked Pip over, concern written on her face. Pip soon shook his head and the two of them shared a laugh before they went their separate ways again, Seras waving as Pip chuckled and disappeared back into the wall.
Strange wasn’t even close to describing what Alucard saw. Concerning might be a better word. Whatever powers Seras and Pip had developed over the course of an unknown amount of time was the least of his concern at this point. For all he knew, this could be an alternate version of events, and he may not even be returning to his own home. But, really, what else did he have to go on?
As the Frenchman melted away into the wall, a black haze came over Alucard’s vision. He glanced at one of the other images along the wall and, seeing that nothing had changed, he returned to looking at the place where the Hellsing manor once stood. Whatever these new powers were, Pip or Seras must have some ability to protect the manor if he was blocking Alucard’s view. It seemed that Alucard was not the only one who had changed in his time away from reality.
An uncomfortable thought gnawed at the back of his mind all throughout his excursion through the manor; what was his excuse, now? There was no longer any uncertainty about the others’ survival and no uncertainty about their safety, but he still didn’t know how much time had passed, and it gave him pause. If Alucard had changed so much in this intervening time, how much more had the others changed?
He put it out of his mind for now, concerning himself with the mechanics of his return. He was able to see what the manor looked like in the present, so he should be able to travel there without issue. Of course ‘without issue’ was a loose term when it came to his newfound powers, but the trip at least shouldn’t be as difficult as it once was. Alucard now faced that same choice from years ago. He sighed: there were no more excuses, now. Time was running out for him, and if he didn’t try, he’d just rot away in this place, gone without a whisper or a care.
He searched the wall of images as he’d done many times before, each fragment of reality now familiar to him. He couldn’t be sure he would be able to appear in the manor due to Pip or Seras’s restrictions. Hell, he had only recently been able to teleport to-and-fro within this prison room with any amount of consistency. And with the weakness creeping back up on him, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep control of this power for long.
It was now or never, whether he wanted it to be or not. He warily eyed the place where the manor once was. If he were to try to get back to reality, he would have to go somewhere familiar. He was still unsure of how these powers would affect him if he attempted to return, and though he hated the idea of calling upon the others for aid, it might be necessary if he botched the return trip.
Alucard weighed his options and an unusual amount of emotion welled within him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed existing until now, how much he missed having a purpose in his un-life even if it was to serve the design of humans. He smiled as he recalled the first time he met Integra, protecting the fearful little girl who would grow into the proud woman he’d become so fond of. He even smiled as he thought back on the other Hellsings: Arthur, William, Abraham, each one a strong leader in their own way. Then, he thought of Seras. How proud he’d been when he watched her accept her own powers and come into her own as a fully-fledged vampire. The thought of seeing how she’d come along in the intervening years excited him as much as it tugged at his heart; he hadn’t been there to witness it. He wasn’t able to help foster that growth, even in his own begrudging way. Alucard even found himself missing England itself. Though it had been his unwilling home for many decades, he’d come to appreciate it and the people living there, along with all their quirks.
Alucard’s smile faded as he stepped towards the wall of images, extending a hand to touch the one that displayed the grounds surrounding the manor. The image wavered with his touch but remained in place. This wouldn’t be much different from the times he teleported inside this room, or at least he told himself that. Once he was nearer to the manor, it would be simple to find a way inside, and then maybe he could finally rest…
He drew a deep breath. No time to waste, now; he could feel his control over these powers waning with each passing second as his body strained to give him its last bit of strength. Alucard focused his mind on the image before him, his thoughts filling with a desire to go home, with a desire to see them again, to have a purpose again. Then, his hand sank into the image as if it was drawing him in, the now-familiar feeling of unease seeping into every cell in his body, and Alucard disappeared for a final time.
Chapter 7 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 3.4K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags) and discussion about a traumatic real-world event towards the end.
June 26, 2016
No one slept well, but I had a feeling it had to do with more than just the poor bedding situation.
Steve got up and left the apartment at dawn. Once the door closed behind him, I cautiously opened one eye.
"Doll, are you awake?" Bucky whispered.
"Yeah?"
He rolled over to face me and gave a small smile. "Morning."
"Morning," I returned the greeting. "Do you know where Steve went?"
Bucky shook his head and we both went quiet for a couple minutes as the early morning stillness wrapped itself around us.
"Bucky?"
"Mmhm," he grunted in acknowledgment.
"Was I a good fighter?" I asked quietly.
His first response was a sad laugh and a wistful smile. "You were the best."
I waited for him to continue.
"You handed my ass to me more than once, including yesterday."
Frowning, I asked, "I fought you yesterday?"
He nodded. "Nearly beat me to death."
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I don't remember doing that."
"Listen, it's okay," he assured me. "You were scared and confused. Could've happened to anyone."
My shame and embarrassment shut me up while I berated myself. How could I have come so close to taking the life of someone who has shown kindness to me?
As sunlight steadily crept into the apartment, I saw the damage that had been done to his face—the damage I had caused.
"Bucky, I'm so sorry," I breathed.
"Don't worry about it." He tried to comfort me by saying, "You didn't do all of this. I was already pretty beaten up before you got a hold of me."
I had not only hurt someone who was trying to help me but also injured a man with one arm who had recently been assaulted.
Angry with myself, I began violently picking at my fingernails. The light brought my attention to the dirt and blood that was caked under them. Even after last night's shower, a red tinge clung to the skin around each nail.
I asked suddenly, "Do you have any nail clippers?"
"I assume Steve has some in his hygiene kit," Bucky said as he got up and went over to the bags in the corner of the room.
After a minute of rummaging, Bucky handed me the desired item.
"Sorry, I got my blood on you, Doll," he apologized once he saw my left hand.
"It's not just yours," I thought to myself.
I remained silent, unsure how to respond to someone apologizing to me because I had wrongly attacked them.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Bucky murmured before pulling something else out of Steve's things. "Little soap on the nail brush and some scrubbing, and everything should come right off."
"Uh - thanks," I faltered and then made my escape to the bathroom.
I made quick work of cutting off my five fingernails. After running the nail brush over my bar of soap, I scrubbed my fingers until they burned with pain.
I was able to breathe easier now that there literally was no blood on my hands. After splashing cold water on my face, I looked up into the shabby mirror. Common sense told me that the face that stared back at me was my own, yet I did not recognize it.
Steve and Bucky were both standing around the small kitchen island when I came out of the bathroom.
Steve called out cheerfully, "Good morning! I have breakfast!"
"Sandwiches?" I asked with a raised eyebrow after looking at the food laid out before the two men.
"Breakfast sandwiches. I would have got coffee to go with them, except these were kind of expensive," he replied.
I unwrapped the wax paper from around the bundle Steve handed me. Generous slices of warm whole grain bread, tender cuts of dark roast beef, thick pieces of juicy red tomato, and rich slices of creamy white Swiss cheese made an appealing and hearty combination.
After sinking my teeth into the sandwich, I told the two boys, "I have a lot of questions."
Steve nodded. "I'm sure you do."
"First off, where are we?"
"Odesa, Ukraine," was the answer.
I asked, "Okay. How did you two find me?"
"Steve and I got you out of a facility in Siberia two days ago," answered Bucky.
Steve added, "A man named Zemo came there to kill you."
Bucky's sad blue eyes met mine as he said, "You've been frozen for nearly 25 years, Doll."
"W-what? Frozen? 25 years? The hell are you talking about?" I choked out.
"You are a Super Soldier just like us. And for the past 25 years, you have been in a Cryostasis Chamber, which kept you in a state of suspended animation by lowering your entire body temperature to absolute zero," Steve elaborated.
In barely a whisper, I said, "So, I've been unconscious for the past 25 years?"
The pair nodded simultaneously.
"Then what year is it?"
Steve replied, "It's 2016."
"20? 2016?" I stuttered the information I could hardly comprehend.
"I know it must be a shock to you. There's a lot you need to catch up on," Steve told me. "But we'll get you up to speed."
Turning to Steve, Bucky asked, "Are you going to start with the Avengers or -"
I cut him off. "What's the 'Avengers'?"
Bucky chuckled, "You are probably the last person on Earth not to know who the Avengers are."
"It's sort of an 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' type of thing," explained Steve.
"That's not overtly arrogant at all," I muttered.
Steve laughed. "I'm just on the team. I didn't come up with the name. Fury did."
"Fury?"
"Nick Fury, former director of S.H.I.E.L.D."
Steve's answer only left me with more questions.
"Who is Shield?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. was the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. It was an American-based extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency tasked with maintaining both national and global security. It was founded after World War II and was the most powerful and secret military intelligence agency on Earth for decades."
"Oh."
Steve continued, "Nick Fury was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and founder of the Avengers Initiative. His goal was to form a team of 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' to protect the world from whatever threats it might be faced with."
"Was he able to do it?" I asked, curiosity welling up inside of me.
Steve smiled. "Yes, he was. Six members were recruited. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and myself."
The way he said the names told me these were obviously important people, but I did not recognize any of them.
"But you wouldn't know who any of those people are. So I'll just go through the list and tell you about each of them."
I nodded in agreement and continued eating my sandwich.
"Tony Stark was the very young and extremely successful C.E.O. of Stark Industries, which sold advanced weaponry until 2009 when he was kidnapped by a terrorist group in Afghanistan. They wanted him to make them a weapon and held him captive for three months. He did build a weapon, only he used it against them to escape to freedom instead of handing it over. Eventually, he perfected the design and became known as 'Iron Man.'"
Steve handed me a small, flat device with a screen. There was a picture of a well-dressed man with a unique goatee and a flashy smile. Steve swiped to the right, and then there was a picture of a red and gold armor suit with a hand extended out in front of it. A circle of light came from its palm, and another light was set in the center of its chest.
"He wears a suit of armor?" I asked.
"Yes," Steve confirmed.
"What's he like?"
"Eccentric genius, outgoing perfectionist, cocky billionaire, showy playboy, sarcastic pragmatist, and a brave fighter. Tony is a lot of things. He has his flaws and demons, but he is a good man and a good friend." Steve paused. "We just don't always see eye-to-eye."
I could tell that Steve and Tony had a close bond, but for some reason, right now, they were far from being on good terms with each other.
Talking about Tony unsettled something in Steve, so he moved right along, saying, "Then there is Thor Odinson. He is strong, blond, royalty, a few thousand years old, a mighty warrior, and has this hammer that lets him control lightning and thunder. You might know him from Norse mythology."
My mouth hung open for a moment until I remembered my manners. I swallowed my bite of food before blurting out, "Mythology?! He's a god?!"
"No, he is an Asgardian. Centuries ago, when he came to visit Earth, the Norse people mistook him for a god, and that is why he and his family are in Norse Mythology," Steve corrected me kindly.
"Oh... What's an Ass-guard-again?" I hesitated.
Bucky tried to hide his laughter but failed.
"Someone from Asgard," Steve stated.
"Ass-guard?"
My question drew more laughter from Bucky; even Steve was having a hard time keeping a straight face.
Steve replied, "It's one of the Nine Realms."
"The Nine Realms?"
These answers to my questions only confused me.
"It's a little complicated. He's not from Earth. Sometimes, he can be out of place here and have a temper, but ultimately, he wants to do what's right and keep things peaceful."
Steve swiped again at the little picture box, and a picture of a tall, muscular man with a beard and long blonde hair wearing an interesting maroon sports blazer appeared.
"No wonder they thought he was a god," I said under my breath.
Bucky and Steve chuckled before the latter changed it to another photo. In this one, the blond man was wearing a red cape and a set of armor unlike any I had ever seen. He was holding a large silver hammer in his hand like it was nothing.
"Next is Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Raised from infancy in a Russian-run 'academy' called the Red Room, the girls there were made into the best spies and assassins possible. She graduated top of her class, and because of that, the K.G.B. recruited her, but fortunately, she ended up switching sides and defecting to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Steve showed me a picture of a beautiful red-headed woman wearing a formal suit.
Running my finger along the image, I felt a connection with her.
"And her Russian name?" I asked in a whisper.
For once, Steve did not have an answer to my question.
"You must mean 'Наталья Романова,'" I corrected him. "'Романов' is the male form of the last name. 'Романова' is the female form."
["Natalia Romanova."] ["Romanov"] ["Romanova"]
Bucky just shrugged.
"What is she like?"
Steve changed the screen to a picture of her in a black full-body tactical suit before answering, "She's smart, funny, strong, and a huge flirt, but once she trusts you, she will always be there for you."
"I wish I could meet her."
"I hope that you will get to very soon," Steve said with a sad smile before moving on.
"Couldn't forget Natasha's best friend: Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. He was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., or I should say assassin of S.H.I.E.L.D. and still is a master marksman. Clint can do more with a bow and arrow than anyone else I've ever met can do with a gun," Steve told me before showing me a picture of an unassuming man in jeans and a long-sleeved flannel.
Confused, I asked, "So he's just a regular guy who is good at archery?"
Steve chuckled, "No. He is also a skilled martial artist, acrobat, and spy, not to mention a very valuable member of the team."
The next picture was of the same man wearing a black sleeveless uniform and holding a bow loaded with three arrows.
"Clint is brilliant, humorous, very competitive, extremely loyal, a caring friend, and a loving family man," Steve stated.
"Finally, there is Bruce Banner, the most gifted scientist of this century."
"A scientist?" I asked, unimpressed, looking at the picture of a very average man who wore glasses and a purple button-up.
In response to my question, Steve pulled up a picture of a huge, green, muscular monster.
"Holy crap! What is that thing?!"
Steve said, "He's the Hulk, a strong and primitive-minded creature who is fueled by rage. Bruce was exposed to high levels of gamma radiation, which changed his body and mind. Bruce and Hulk are both always in there; it's just a matter of who is in control."
"So he can turn into that whenever he wants?"
"He has to be triggered to transform into the Hulk," Steve explained.
Concerned, I asked, "But every time he gets angry, does he change?"
"Not necessarily. Bruce has gained considerable control over the Hulk and is still learning about him. Bruce is very intelligent, sometimes shy, and always kind."
"In 2012, Thor's adopted brother, Loki, entered the Joint Dark Energy Mission Facility in the Mojave Desert via some kind of portal; used a Scepter to mind control several agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., including Clint Barton; stole the Tesseract; and destroyed the facility and the surrounding area," Steve recalled.
"The Tess-er-act?"
Steve explained grimly, "It's a blue cube with unmatched power."
I nodded, and he continued.
"Fury met with the World Security Council, and they told him to forget about the Avengers Initiative, but he went through with it anyway."
"Natasha recruited Bruce, Fury recruited me, and Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited Tony."
"Natasha, Bruce, and I were brought onto S.H.I.E.L.D.'s first Helicarrier, which is a flying command center and an aircraft carrier. We found Loki in Germany, forcing a crowd of people to kneel before him. Tony and I were able to bring Loki into custody."
"That was the first time Tony and I ever met," Steve said quietly, reminiscing over the memory.
He ended the moment by resuming his story.
"Anyways, Thor boarded our Quinjet and took Loki with him. Tony and I followed. It took a bit of convincing, but Thor agreed to join us."
"When we returned to the Helicarrier, Loki was put in a cell and we discussed what Loki's plan was. Natasha interrogated Loki, while Tony and I separately but simultaneously discovered that Fury's 'Phase Two' was using the Tesseract to create weapons. We all had a big argument." Steve shook his head at this recollection.
"Clint and the other brainwashed agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. attacked the Helicarrier and took out one of our engines. It took a while, but Tony and I fixed the engine. The attack triggered Bruce to turn into the Hulk, and Natasha had to flee for her life. Thor stopped Hulk from hurting anyone until they were able to get him off of the Helicarrier, and he turned back into Banner unharmed."
"Loki escaped and then tricked Thor into his former cell. Agent Coulson tried to save Thor, but Loki ended up killing him."
I noticed a tear slide down Steve's face.
"Loki then ejected a still-trapped Thor from the Helicarrier. Fortunately, Thor was able to escape uninjured, but Loki got away."
"Fury told Tony and I that Agent Coulson was dead, and he also came clean to us about how his true plan was the Avengers Initiative, not Phase Two."
"Natasha had to fight and restrain Barton until he was finally free of Loki's control." Steve paused after saying this, as if the weight of his own words would not allow him to speak.
A moment later, he carried on, "Tony and I discussed Agent Coulson's death and realized Loki planned to open up a portal above Stark Tower in New York City."
"I found Clint and Natasha, and we took a Quinjet, which is an advanced piece of S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft, and followed Tony to New York City."
"Tony tried to talk to Doctor Erik Selvig, a renowned astrophysicist and also another one of Loki's personal puppets at the time, about shutting down the portal device he had created using the Tesseract, but it didn't work. So Tony took off his suit and faced off against Loki mind to mind."
"It didn't go well. When Loki couldn't control Tony with the Scepter, he just threw him out the window. Tony was able to get into one of his suits and not fall to his death, but the portal had opened, and Loki's alien army had already arrived."
"Thor took his turn at confronting Loki, but to no avail. Loki took out one of the Quinjet's engines, and we were forced to crash land."
"Sirens were going off everywhere. The police officers and firefighters were doing all they could. Debris dust was thick on everything. The aliens just kept coming. Seventy-four civilians died, along with several NYPD officers and National Guard members, though I don't remember the numbers for them," Steve said quietly with a faraway look in his eyes.
No one spoke until Bucky gently said, "It's okay, Steve. What happened next?"
Steve blinked a couple of times. "umm- Thor and Bruce joined us. Bruce turned into the Hulk. I helped Natasha catch a ride up to the top of Stark Tower."
"There were a bunch of civilians cornered in this bank. The aliens had this bomb. It went off and blew me out of a window. I think I ended up landing on a car," Steve laughed dryly.
"Selvig was free of Loki's mind control when Natasha finally made it to the top of Stark Tower. He told her how to shut down the portal. And Hulk beat Loki down."
"The World Security Council decided to nuke New York City as the solution to the alien problem."
"I'm sorry! They decided to 'nuke' New York City?!" I interrupted.
Steve nodded and continued, "Tony took the nuke up and into the portal even though it was a suicide mission. When Tony hadn't come back out, Natasha was forced to close the portal. His suit had run out of power, but thankfully he free fell back to Earth before the portal fully closed. Once Tony came to, we finished our business with Loki."
"Thor took the Tesseract and Loki back to Asgard. We all went our separate ways after that. The world has never been the same since that day," Steve finished.
"Why would someone attack New York like that?" I asked soberly.
Steve and Bucky looked at each other.
"Actually, this wasn't the first time New York has been attacked since you were put under," replied Steve.
"On September 11, 2001, nineteen members of the terrorist group al-Qaeda hijacked four commercial airliners. One plane crashed into the World Trade Center North Tower. The second crashed into the World Trade Center South Tower. The third plane was flown into the Pentagon."
"The fourth plane's target was either the Capitol building or the White House, but it never made it to either. The crew and passengers of the flight fought against the hijackers after they had learned about the fates of the three other hijacked planes. When the hijackers realized that the passengers and crew would likely overcome them and gain control of the plane, they rolled the plane and intentionally crashed it, which killed everyone on board."
"Both of the towers ended up catching on fire and came down. Nearly 3,000 people were killed, over 25,000 were injured, and we will probably never know how many got sick or even died because of all of the contaminants and carcinogens that were in the air," Steve said, his voice filled with nothing but sadness.
I had no words. I could not even cry. I was in so much shock over the tragedy.
In a firm tone, Bucky said, "I think that's enough history for today."
I do not remember much about the rest of that day.
Steve went out again and did not return until after dark.
Bucky made himself a peanut butter sandwich around noon and offered me one, but I declined.
Steve brought back three thrifted sleeping bags, some basic groceries, and three takeout servings of okroshka. The cold summer soup was good, but I only ate my portion to appease Steve and not because I was hungry.
As I crawled into my sleeping bag that night, so many thoughts churned in my head.
- I had hurt someone and had no recollection of it.
- Someone had tried to kill me.
- I had missed 25 years of living.
- A beautiful city and the innocent lives of its people had been devastated by evil men.
For the first time since he was created, Robotboy did something against his own will, while being aware of it.
It was horrible when he walked, when he listened to Kamikazi, when he was instructed to kill Tommy, how could anyone even think of something so horrible?
When he Superactivated and started shooting at the boy.
In that moment, Robotboy wanted to shoot himself.
He felt like he was locked in a cage with no key, and he could only stand and watch.
He was sure that the screams of the ten-year-old would keep him up at night. He wanted so badly to stop, to stop shooting, to tell Tommy that Robotboy doesn't do that!!! It's not Robotboy!!! but his own body wouldn't listen to him.
His little metal heart was breaking in half when Tommy screamed and cried and asked him Robotoboy, it's me Tommy! and he couldn't do anything. If he had hair it would probably all be pulled out by now with all his frustration.
No matter how hard he tried to give his body the commands, stop shooting, leave the boy, stop, go back to normal mode, it didn't work.
"*When I break free, you can be sure Kamikazi, I'll get my revenge," he promised himself in his head, and his eyes glowed red for a moment.
As Tommy ran into the room with no way out and the clones caught him, Robotboy (mentally, of course) fell to his knees. This is it. The end. Robotboy is about to kill his best friend, without being able to stop it. He felt like screaming and crying and to think that it was the crying that led him to where he was, because he wanted to cry, because he wanted to be like a real boy and-
Tommy started crying.
Robotboy cried mentally along with him, but something changed.
He felt one solitary tear run down his cheek and....
He could move.
HE COULD MOVE!!!
Without wasting another moment, he dealt with all the clones nearby then returned to normal mode.
"Tommy?" he spoke up, frightened that maybe something had happened that he hadn't noticed, if he had accidentally hit Tommy after all and-
"Ro?" Tommy replied, leaning out of his hiding place, and Robotboy was never so happy to see the boy.
"Tommy!!!"
They both rushed to each other, meeting in the middle. They hugged each other tightly after which Ro let himself be held by Tommy.
"Ro! Boy am i glad to have you back to normal. "
Robotboy at that moment wanted to tell him so many things. I'm sorry, please forgive me, I should be more careful, it's my fault.
But in the end he put on a joking tone.
"Robotboy happy Tommy crybaby."
"Wait, I'm..." he sighed, but smiled slightly "me too, buddy."
Yes.
Robotboy was definitely glad that Tommy was a crybaby.
that episode really scared the crap out of me when i was a kid lmao that and the tune up (they really did a number on me) i love these little beans with all my heart
*a little callback to what tommy was also saying while running away from ro
