Lemme hold your hand when I tell you that Lord of the Rings is, in fact, ONE HUGE BOOK, split in 3 parts,each part has some side quests, plots for secondary characters, it's multi pov etc, but the main plot is Frodo getting to Mordor to destroy the Ring.
Acotar 6-8 is literally the same format. SJM talked about the LotR format in the CHD interview.
masterlist
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summary: tensions continue to rise between the RDA and the Na'vi, especially as Major tyler Bukowski returns to Bridgehead to make a new plan.
cw: canon-typical violence | injury | angst | more tags to come
TYLER BUKOWSKI
It's not like him to come running home with his tail between his legs. Literally and figuratively.
Tyler Bukowski is not one to fail his mission.
Yet there he stands in General Ardmore's office, tuning out the tantrum that she's throwing about her ship being at the bottom of the ocean, when all he can think about is how to finish what he's started.
He knew Quaritch was trouble the minute he laid eyes on him. The Sully woman, too. He'd been briefed on what to expect from the first batch of Recoms that had been revived for Project Phoenix, and that there may be behavioral abnormalities, since the science was still relatively new. He'd been warned that they might defect, because even though their memories were uploaded from their human version, there's no way to cut out the animal part of their brains to keep them from empathising with the Na'vi.
It was a malady that was supposedly remedied with the new batch that was being decantered while he was getting chewed out by the General.
This tiny, insignificant human General. It was almost comical how small she was compared to his new form. His one hand alone was almost the length of her abdomen. He could crush her spine with a pinch, if he really wanted to.
Just food for thought.
"Are you even listening to me? You just had your ass handed to you by a fucking lab coat, some kids, and a rogue Colonel. You lost one of my best asset producers, not to mention all of the weapons on that damn thing- and you wanna sit there and fucking grin about it?" Her lisp thickens as her frustration grows, and she rounds the corner of her desk so she can stand right in front of him. She cranes her neck to meet his eyes, doing her best to be as intimidating as possible.
It doesn't work, but he won't let her know that.
"Ma'am, I don't think it's funny at all. They killed two of my guys and still managed to get away. And I fully plan on catching them and forcing them to pay for their crimes. A public execution is inevitable now."
He couldn't care less about the Sea Dragon, or Hanes or Smith. They were just collateral. Nothing more than faceless names on a report that he had to fill out for later. No, bringing in Quaritch and killing his girl had nothing to do with revenge. For Bukowski, it was all about power.
For years, he had to deal with Quaritch and his insatiable need to prove that he had the biggest dick in Pandora. That he was top dog, King of the Hill. And no matter how hard Bukowski fought, no matter how many missions he completed or ranks that he climbed, he never got the recognition that he deserved.
Quaritch had Selfridge whipped like a good little bitch, and he was practically eating out of Quaritch's palm there at the end. It wasn't until the war with the Na'vi reached its boiling point that Selfridge realized his mistake in letting Quaritch have all the military power he requested, because once he mobilized all of Hell's Gate- civilians and all- Quaritch was unstoppable.
Well, almost unstoppable. Until a certain fucking Marine switched sides and rallied the other clans on Pandora to fight back.
Mutiny runs in the fucking Sully family, apparently.
And then Quaritch failed to subdue the Na'vi, and they got the better of the RDA, and sent them home with their tails between their legs, and Bukowski lost out on a billion-dollar deal that was supposed to buy his baby girl a ticket to heaven.
Quaritch cost him everything. And now he's not going to stop until he's taken everything back.
"No. I'm not going to waste any more resources on him or Jake. They're in the wind, and so long as they think you're coming for them, they'll stay out of town. No, I need you here coordinating with the new team. You'll be running protection and security for the Bridge. The last of the installments is dropping from the Venture as we speak, and as soon as it's assembled, I want it up and running."
"The Bridge, ma'am?"
"The Beta Bridge. If this is supposed to be the new home for humanity, the first step is to start making it home. I'm not gonna explain the science to you, it's above your pay grade. All you need to know is that I can't have any of those savages messing with it, so I need you out there as my eyes. Shouldn't be hard for you, though. There's one asset in particular that I think you'll be especially interested in keeping safe."
Right.
Lena.
When Bukowski first signed his contract with the RDA, Lena was just a little girl. Six years old, full of energy and curiosity, but starving thanks to overcrowding. Bukowski took the opportunity to buy her a better life by flying to Pandora. The money was too good to turn down, even if it meant leaving behind his baby girl. Six years to fly out. Five years to serve, and then another six for the return journey.
Only his tour was interrupted by a certain fucking failure of a Colonel and an AWOL Marine-turned-blue-monkey. So what was supposed to be a billion-dollar contract turned into a fraction of that, and when he landed back on Earth, Lena had already signed away her life to debt collectors.
She said her education was more important than living in a house or eating, because she knew she could suffer through the present if it meant making a better furure for herself. When he got home, she was sleeping in abandoned buildings and surviving off of that spirulina-protein shit that the government pumped out to feed the masses, since even the governments of the world couldn't afford anything better. He was supposed to be set for life. He never thought he'd live long enough to see retirement, but once he saw all the zeros on the checks that he had been promised, he thought that maybe gettin' old wasn't such a bad idea.
Then that got fucked up, too.
And after everything that he had sacrificed, after all the lives he had taken in the name of Greater Good, they were both subjected to couch surfing at friends' houses, then to shelters, and eventually, dilapidated buildings. He swears that if he ever smells a plankton-sourced protein cube ever again, he'll burn down the building.
He was meant for more. He had a purpose. A destiny.
And that shit just wasn't it.
So when he got the letter notifying him that the government had sanctioned for the RDA's return trip to Pandora, he was one of the first to volunteer. Especially when they offered him a spot for a new experimental Black Ops nicknamed Project Phoenix. It was off the books, for now, and he was strictly informed that he would never be allowed to return to Earth when his mission was complete. He wasn't mad about that, especially not since Pandora will be the new home for humanity. The pay was more than double what he was making as just another grunt doing the legwork in the jungle, and Lena had hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt thanks to her taste for a finer education.
An education that led her down the path of astrogeology and xenobotonay.
There was no denying that Lena was a Bukowski, born and bred, because they prevail, no matter the obstacle. Finances be damned, Lena got herself to Pandora one way or another, despite his failure.
"She lands tomorrow." Bukowski grunts, acknowledging Ardmore. "She'll be on the ground team out there?"
"Well, her Avatar will. Just as you asked. Whenever she's ready, I've authorized the transfer without any genetic alteration, unlike the other Recoms on the Blue Team. She'll help get the Bridge up and running." Ardmore sighs, gulping down the last dregs of her coffee as she leans against the desk, stretching out her legs. "I'll run a debrief once she's topside. For now, go get cleaned up and report back tomorrow, oh-eight-hundred. First order of business will be gettin' you and your team locked in with some banshees. We tranqued a few the other day and have them in holding."
He doesn't bless her with a verbal acknowledgment. He presses his fingers against his forehead in a stiff salute and then spins on his heel, retreating from the room at a brisk pace, all the way to the infirmary.
He was lucky to walk out with just a few cuts and scrapes after the whale came crashing down on the Sea Dragon, and everything else that followed. Honestly, he's the only one who escaped almost completely unscathed. Things could've ended up the way they did for the captain of the Sea Dragon. What was his name, Colbey? Korbey?
Whatever his name is, it doesn't matter. He's down an arm and a ship, and Bukowski doesn't see him serving any other purposes than taking up precious oxygen that could be spared for someone else worth the air he's breathing.
When he first got here, Bridgehead was a confusing maze of processing plants, administration buildings, and housing divisions with a booming population of almost 43,000 people. It should've taken fifty years to build something this complex at this massive a scale, but thanks to the latest advancements in AI robotics, the swarm assemblers quadrupled what a human crew was capable of.
And the fact that they could 3D print building materials out of carbon polymer compounds on demand only made things that much faster. But for all of its glory, it still wasn't a place for living. They were still strictly in survival mode. But not for much longer.
He jumps out of the way as a vehicle barrels down the roads, wading through crews of humans as they return to their lodging for the night after a long day of labor. Massive screens on the sides of the buildings boast news broadcasts of Earth updates, and a woman's voice echoes off the metal buildings as she announces whatever headlines they've been force-feeding the masses back on Earth.
"Pandora: Humanity's Last Frontier! And in the heart of this untamed land, General Ardmore valiantly builds the new home for humanity; Bridgehead City!" The light of the billboards is almost blinding as they flash bright and dizzying images of the sprawling jungles, floating mountains, and dazzling lakes in an attempt to lure in more volunteers for the workforce.
More target practice, it was more like.
Grunts were dropping by the day, thanks to the ever-present raids on their supply trains. Although the massive blast radius of the drop ships provided a spacious dead zone that surrounded the city, it did nothing to protect the Mag-Lev from any attacks from the Na'vi. The supply drops had to remain a safe distance from the city to prevent damage from the rocket's exhaust, and despite being under heavy military protection, the Na'vi were designed for this environment. He's still not sure how they manage to stay on top of the drop schedules, but he's determined to find out.
If Ardmore wasn't going to let him go back out after Sully and Quaritch for now, then he'd have to divert that energy elsewhere. After all, he can't have these kinds of raids happening on the Beta Bridge once it's up and running.
He's still not 100 percent sure what it does, but Lena does her best to explain it over the video call, which he answers as soon as he is in the sanctuary of his room inside the Recom Facility.
"It's a rig-based machine that'll help us get a jump-start on terraforming the moon. Because of Pandora's intense magnetic fields, continental shifts are a little more drastic and frequent than what we've seen on Earth. Which, honestly, is perfect for us, because all we'll have to do is find a small continent, set up a perimeter of the betabridge, and from there, we can start creating a greenhouse dome and get to work on lowering the Xenon content of the atmosphere. The plan is to start small and then expand as we can."
Bukowski is trying, really trying to listen to her, but it's hard when she drones on like this. She must see it in his eyes, because she switches gears, dumbing down the words into simpler phrases so he can better grasp the idea. "Pandora's atmosphere is twenty percent more dense than Earth's, so if we start small and manipulate the atmosphere, we can create a breathable pocket space for humans to hopefully be able to live in long term."
She continues to ramble on, but cuts herself off suddenly. "Dad! Focus!"
"Sorry, darlin', I just... It's been a long day. Yesterday, we suffered an attack from the natives, and they destroyed one of our water vessels and killed about 200 of our guys. Things have been a little chaotic lately." To emphasize his exhaustion, he rubs a hand down his face, leaning on his elbows towards the screen.
In the bottom corner, he catches a glimpse of himself. The sight of his new face still gives him a shock every time he looks in the mirror.
Blue skin, dappled with white translucent dots and faded stripes. Wide flat nose. Massive feline eyes, with ears and fangs to match. Not to mention his towering height. He clocks in at about 2.5 meters of pure lean muscle. Not to mention the energy. It felt good to be twenty-something again. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
Lena looks uneasy, and by the way she avoids his eyes, he knows that she's still not used to it either. She'll have to get over that eventually, though, 'cause he didn't fight his ass off to make millions to pay for her Avatar body for her to wuss-out at the last second.
"It'll get easier," he reassures her, and she scoffs, shaking her head lightly.
"I don't know, it's all just so... weird. When you said 'make Pandora sustainable', I was hoping that I'd be able to do it as a human."
"Sweetheart, you and I both know that this project is going to take years, possibly even a few generations, before we're able to start properly colonizing here. But for those of us who are doing the grunt work, we can't be held back by human stamina or exo-packs. Trust me, this is the best step for us."
"I'm just worried about being mistaken as one of them," she sneers the last word, and he knows exactly what she means. Even he has a hard time telling the difference at first glance. It's only until he's really looking that he can spot the minuscule differences between a Recom and a Na'vi. Smaller eyes. The extra finger. More hair. "I mean, did you see that broadcast from earlier? I almost couldn't watch; it made me feel sick."
While he had been riding back to Bridghead on the lifeboats with the other survivors, another attack by the Insurgency had laid waste to another maglev. Thankfully, it was just building supplies for the new housing division- not weapons, food, or the Betabridge- but the human escort team had been absolutely slaughtered by the savages. Ardmore gave the green light to share the footage that had been recovered from the black boxes with Earth, spewing out more hateful propaganda against the Na'vi.
Although, because of the Interplanetary Commerce Administration, mass production of weapons is still prohibited. Ardmore is hoping that broadcasting the attacks will encourage them to change their minds on that front. The more angry recruits that land on Pandora, the better. If troops have revenge in their hearts, then that means that his job will be easier when it comes to flushing out the enemy.
Things just get messy when morals and empathy start getting thrown into the mix.
"Anyways, I think I'm going to turn in. I still feel off from Cryo. But, I'll see you in the morning?" She smiles up at him, still looking over his shoulder- through him- but for a second, he sees the little girl he left behind, all those years ago. How had she become a woman so fast?
"I'll be waiting for you on the tarmac," he grunts, giving her a tight-lipped smile before switching the camera off.
With her, he'll also be greeting his new Blue Team, although they'll still be in their incubation pods when they land. Five new recruits: Ramsay, Garcia, Cotton, Melby, and Marston. Four males and one female, and supposedly, this team would actually follow orders.
Despite the late hour and his bone-deep exhaustion, he taps the screen of his desktop and pulls up the video files that had been saved in an archive titled Blue Team Training. The file opens up with a list of security-style footage, and at the center of the screen is the Sully woman. Quaritch's woman.
She must've been a fine piece of ass to make him turn that easily. Bukowski's gotta admit, she is beautiful- was beautiful. It's a shame to have killed her before he could have a taste for himself, but it was him or her, and he chose the latter. If only he had been able to kill Quaritch. Jake Sully was right there. Half of his problems could've been solved in an instant, but now... not so much.
The first video starts playing with the touch of a button, and her voice fills the cavernous space of the room. "As I'm sure you've noticed by now, Avatars and Recoms are affected by their Human DNA in many distinctive ways..."
Her voice is soft and soothing, and there's something so different about the woman on the screen than the one he had grown familiar with on the ship. This woman still held the calm and poise of a human. Fresh, unperverted by the jungle outside and Na'vi influence. The woman on the ship? She was one step away from being full-blown savage. Seeing her face painted in a spray of human blood like warpaint after she mowed them down with a staff... It was almost laughable to say that that woman was the very same as the one on his screen now. Preaching about the balance of nature, the beauty of the world around them.
No wonder these files are locked.
He's got a lot of editing to do if he plans on filtering out the hippy-shit she's spewing right now. The new Recoms don't need any influence other than basic survival. He's got his work cut out for him.
Just as he was ordered, he struts into the Admin center, where holographic screens were already up, displaying projected images from the subs surrounding the now shipwrecked Sea Dragon.
A voice crackles overhead, corresponding with the two figures in the center of the holo-screens. Ardmore, and another that he hadn't realized was already topside.
Parker Selfridge.
"There's pretty much nothing left. I mean, the equipment for Amrita harvesting is damaged beyond repair, the hull is torn to shreds from crashing into the rocks, and all of our weapons are gone. It looks like they got here before us."
The face-cam from inside the diver's mask pops up in the corner of one of the screens, and he recognizes the human doctor from the ship. The Marine Biologist, Ian Garvin.
Ardmore shakes her head with a scoff. "Fucking rats."
"So, what are the financials looking like? I need to know what to put in my report back to Corporate." As always, Selfridge only cares about the money.
"I'll have to run the numbers. I've already got the factory working on printing another ship, but it will be a few weeks before it's operational." Ardmore grunts, and Selfridge shakes his head.
"No, no, no. That's not gonna work for me- look, Amrita is the only resource left we have funding this thing! Unobtanium is basically worthless now that the RDA knows that there is something more valuable out there, so I need that ship up and running A.S.A.P.!" Selfridge crosses his arms and turns to face Ardmore, who looks less than unimpressed with his antics.
Despite what he thinks, Selfridge has no real power here. His only purpose is to make the RDA feel better about having a voice in the happenings on Pandora, and to keep the ICA in the dark when they have to use tactics that are deemed "inhumane". Maintaining good rapport with the humans back on Earth is just as important as money and supplies, because all it could take to pull the plug on the entire operation is one too many negative humanitarian reports.
Which is why people like Dr. Sully needed to be taken off the board.
Sympathizers are just as dangerous as a bomb around here.
Bukowski clears his throat to announce his presence, interrupting Selfirdge's little fit. "With all due respect, we lost a lot of men and women in that battle. Forcing them to go right back out would come off as heartless to those who died in the fight."
Selfridge's nostrils flare as he fumes silently, and Ardmore smirks from under the rim of her hat. Garvin ignores them completely, paddling through the wreckage as he takes pictures and scans of everything he can see, while crab-crews scuttle along the surface of the ship, cutting the material up to salvage the scraps.
Bukowski doesn't see the point in wasting time on moving the metal, because the Na'vi won't touch the stuff. The weapons were the result of Sully, and now that he's armed with an unmeasured amount of RDA-issued guns and ammunition, it should be the Na'vi that Armdore is worried about.
"General, once again, I would like to propose the idea of taking a team back to the islands and starting a search grid for Sully and Quaritch. With those guns missing, he could be arming them as we speak for an assault."
"No, he's not stupid enough to attack the city outright. But he will attack any squads we send out. So, Garvin, I need you and your team back to Bridghead as soon as you've got it stripped down to the skeleton."
"Uh, sure." Dr. Garvin grunts awkwardly, although Bukowski can see that his attention is on a squad of alien fish that have already made the shipwreck their new home as they flit about between the gaping holes left behind from the assault on the ship.
Ardmore closes the communication line, and she turns her attention back to him. "The new recruits will be landing shortly. While they are recovering from being decantered, I'm going to use our satellites to scan the moon for available candidate islands that have low population and small surface area to get a start on the Beta Bridge project. When I come up with a list, I'll send you and your team out, with Lena in tow. She'll need to collect samples and take more thorough scans of the island, but I'll leave it up to her to pick the one she thinks will suit our needs best."
"Sounds like a plan."
"If you happen to come across hostiles," she glances sideways at Selfridge, who is watching the two suspiciously, "make sure to take care of them. Leave no trace, all that hippy shit."
"I can only turn a blind eye to so much before things start getting back to the ICA. We're already on thin ice after what happened at Hell's Gate. I was only able to get this operation sanctioned under the promise that there would not be another incited war, like before."
"What they don't know won't kill them," Bukowski rolls his eyes. To Ardmore, he says, "There's nothing I can say to convince you to give me the green light for hunting down Sully?"
"No. And I won't say it again. Leave it alone, Major. Or you'll find yourself at the end of a needle."
She sure does like to flaunt the fact that the Recoms are under her control. But his life isn't in her hands, not like the others had been, because he wasn't resurrected from a memory card. He had chosen this, and his human body was now ashes. He had pressed the button to start the flames himself and laid his human self to rest.
She can't euthanize him because that wasn't in the contract. As a matter of fact, there was no contract. The only thing keeping him in line was his respect for her authority, which was growing smaller by the day.
Maybe in the near future, he can work things to his favor and become General Bukowski.
"Yes, ma'am. As you wish."
Again, he salutes her with a parting wave before ducking out of the room, weaving through the crowded hallway full of humans as he navigates his way to the tarmac. Overhead, he could hear the rotors of the Valkyrie thumping loudly, alerting him that his daughter was now in Bridghead's airspace.
Hello! This is the first actual novel (or trying to be a series) I've been dedicated to, so yay me! Below is the first chapter!
Title: Do NOT Leave Me.
Link!
Description: Surviving isn't always easy, with creatures that may be your allies, and people you must protect. You must promise one thing. Do NOT leave me. Stay.
General Content Warning: Contains themes of emotional trauma, violence, apocalyptic events, grief, memory of child abuse, grief, profanity (cuss words), and gore.
Run, Little Birds (Part I)
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"Oh my God Kael, you stupid—"
< Kian >
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Note: Above shows the POV it's in!
"RUN!" Max shouted, clenching his arm. Run. That's all we can do. A low snarl echoed through the city—once full of bustling life, now a barren wasteland.
My breaths came ragged and painful as I searched the chaos for Kael. He was always the slower twin, so naturally, I worried.
"KAEL! Where the fuck are you?!" I yelled, my voice almost giving out. Kael grinned at me. "I'm running, Kian. Calm down!" He hollered, with a laugh.
I glanced back at Max, who was running quite fast with an injured arm. He was dragging Piper, who looked like she was seconds away from bursting into tears.
I heard Ashlyn ahead of us shout. "Come ON! We're almost there! The entry is just up ahead!" She points at an old bunker. It had been abandoned in panic, which we stumbled upon and set up as our base.
"Ashlyn! Play the alarm!" I barely choked out. "On it!"
As me and Kael rushed under the heavy doors, we whirled around to Max and Piper. Max's arm was bleeding out at an alarming rate, as Piper began to cry. Ashlyn quickly turned the alarm on and a loud, shrilling screech echoed through the town.
"MAX! Piper! HURRY! IT'S COMING CLOSER!" Ashlyn cried, her hands trembling on the close switch. I glanced behind them, my eyes catching a glimpse of something.
There it was. A Proxy. It still looked mostly like a woman—the "survivor" we thought we saw earlier. But its eyes glowed a deep red, blood dripping from its arms. The blood quickly twisted and formed into a long, sharp blade. Fuck—they need to hurry their asses.
"MAX—" Ashlyn's panicked shout was cut off by Max's ragged voice. "CLOSE IT—NOW!" Without hesitation, Ashlyn slammed the switch down, causing the door to quickly begin closing. "Fifteen seconds!" Ashlyn shouted.
The Proxy lunged forward. Its blood blade scraped the concrete, leaving a messy trail. With seconds to spare, Piper and Max slid under the door, relief washing over their faces. A loud slam filled the bunker as the door closed on the Proxy. That was too close.
We all caught our breath, Max closing his eyes for a moment to breathe, Piper looking terrified for Max, Ashlyn sighing in relief.
I turned to Kael, who was lying on the floor, catching his breath. "You okay?" He paused. Then, he got up, grabbed my shoulders, and looked at me seriously. "I'm not Kael, I'm a Proxy." Oh. My. God. I smacked his head, not hard enough to hurt, but hopefully enough to knock some sense in him.
He recoiled back, placing his hands on his head in defense. "Ow..! Kian! I was just joking! I'm fine!" I rolled my eyes. I grabbed his hands and yanked him up off the floor.
I turned back to the others, Piper was sobbing, while Ashlyn and Max hovered over her. "It's my fault Max got h-hurt! I'm sorry!" She choked out, her voice small and full of guilt. "If I had watched out, he wouldn't need to p-push me out of the way!"
Ashlyn tried to explain it wasn't her fault at all, and she shouldn't be too hard on herself. Max awkwardly patted her head and muttered, "Don't cry, Piper. It doesn't even hurt that much, I'm fine."
Kael piped up. "Yeah, it wasn't your fault Piper! If it was anyone's fault, it was all that stupid Proxy's fault!! They should all die in a stinking hole..."
Kael's strangely comforting words made Piper giggle, her crying subsiding. I huffed, feeling somewhat relieved at Kael's stupid remark. "Oh my God Kael, you stupid—" I muttered, a small smirk tugging at my mouth.
I noticed Max's heavy breathing as he slid down a nearby wall, shoving his injured arm behind his back. The moment he sat down, blood began pooling beside him, where his arm rested.
The friendly discussion is over, and the gang are getting ready to leave Jayce's penthouse.
There are three differing POV's in this chapter.
Ekko when Mel makes a request.
Jinx when Sky needs to talk to her about something.
Jayce when he needs to talk to Mel over a concern he has.
The below extract is from Jinx's POV.
Jinx is almost never alone.
Sometimes she’s haunted by the quiet presence of Claggor, whilst other times it’s the shadow form of Vander, and she doesn’t mind either of them, not usually. In an odd way, they’re almost comforting, even if they do constantly remind her that she was to blame for their deaths.
But Mylo…Mylo…as in life, so in after life.
She and Mylo have always rubbed each other up the wrong way, even before the explosion. Their relationship could be categorised as spiky, which was very different to how she interacted with her two other siblings.
Claggor, unlike Mylo, was a gentle giant, at least with his found family. Plenty of shit-heads, however, after finding themselves on the wrong end of one of his punches, would have disagreed with that statement. Vi was their charismatic chief, the visionary they looked to for planning and inspiration, the executive who boldly led them into action, the commander they followed without question.
But Mylo…Mylo…liked to pick both locks, and fights with his youngest sister.
