I've not written in like 6 months due to medical stuff but I am actually very proud of this one. Crackship, I know. Chap one is up.
Ship: Shion/Emre [TigerAi?]
Chapters: 1/?
SFW
Read on AO3 if you prefer
---
Neon Junction was bright, too bright. He leaned against the wall, scowling at the wet pavement; the puddles reflected the gaudy lights, bathing everything in a sickly palette of blues, pinks, and purples. Too bright, he thought again as he adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders. The rain brought the biting cold and it seeped into the joints of his body, the scars left by his modifications.
Emre had decided this wasn't the place for him. The city charged with electricity, never pausing, never sleeping and it made him feel every inch of the exhaustion in his bones.
The job of a dutiful dog of Vendetta meant whatever choices the system within him didn't take, she did. He sighed a shaky breath as he looked into the sky, no stars hung in the inky expanse, snuffed out by the light pollution, he felt something deeply ironic at that thought; he could relate.
Vendetta had wanted a bodyguard while meeting with the leader of the Hashimoto, he wished he’d been joined by Frej, but she was needed elsewhere. Emre had a feeling there was a ploy to keep them apart as much as possible, though he couldn't prove it and what if he could? It wasn’t like Talon had a HR department that would deal with his grievances; others barely in his direction. His so-called teammates simply saw him as a machine that still thought of itself as human.
He watched as the rain started up again, drops falling from the cloudless sky, splashing in the puddles from before, causing the reflected lights to shapeshift into neon oilspill. He glared as he felt the cold pin pricks on his skin, rolling down his cheeks like tears he’d forgotten he could shed.
Emre headed inside, hopefully the boss lady was finished and they could return to their less sickly coloured base. At least Talon red suited him. He chuckled bitterly at his own joke. After all, it was better to laugh than to cry, right?
–
Shion was as sharp as she looked, those eyes scanned over everything that had the misfortune of catching her attention, which happened to be Emre at this moment. The way he dragged his feet, his downcast gaze as the glowing eye on his chest looked around, meeting her gaze. Emre looked up and saw the woman, the omnic who wore the mask of a beauty. Not his type, but he couldn’t deny she was stunning.
Emre had never held the same dislike of omics as some of his former teammates. Sometimes Frej’s reaction to them made him feel disgusted at himself. The fear that perhaps deep down she felt the same hate towards him, he was the same sort of monster on paper as any of those ‘bots’ during the crisis.
He’d always been better at seeing the grey areas in life than she had. With the blood on his hands, he could hardly judge anyone anymore. No better than those he promised to protect people from.
Emre was brought out of his thoughts when the crisp click clack of heels pricked his ears, Chernobog forcing him to focus on the omnic as she walked, no, sauntered over to him. The way he painted lips pulled into a smirk, her eyes whirling and calibrating as she examined him.
“Well, well, aren’t you the most fascinating specimen of what Talon has to offer?” Her voice was a purr, her throat lighting up red as she spoke. Her words came out in a purr despite the clearly robotic feedback that tinged her sultry tone.
Emre knew he was a flirt, he’d been told off for it back in his youth, his overwatch rookie days and even now he knew he couldn’t help himself with Feja. But he’d never been into this brand of flirting, the obvious hunger of a predator sizing up its prey. The way the omnic with the horns acted every bit of the devil she looked as her lips curled into something darker. She wanted to watch the world burn, ever squirming, whimpering, scream of agony at a time.
She didn’t want to own or claim. She wanted to play with her toys until they broke into pieces at her hands. And he wasn’t going to play that game. He’d be the first to admit his self-preservation was at an all-time low, but he wouldn't step into the jaws of disaster this way.
“Is the boss ready to leave?” he asked, keeping his voice level, he didn’t want to piss her off or welcome whatever game she was offering him a turn in.
“Aww, are you that desperate to leave?” She tilted her head to one side, the grin never shifting as her eyes glowed to match her voice patterns. She moved closer with the elegance of a tiger stalking its prey.
“We all have work to do,”
Shion giggled, unsettling with her unmoving lips, the sound never reaching those eyes that bore into his. How could eyes so inhuman reach so deep? He swallowed as she moved closer, a hand on his chest, over the glass of the ever-watching eye. “ああ、私のハンサムな息子” (Oh, my handsome boy.) She giggled again and traced the edge of his chest plate.
Emre grimaced as Chernbog translated the language he didn’t know, relaying it through their shared circuits. The wires like a second set of veins, burning within himself.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that work can be fun?” That same clawing tone, altogether too fake, as if designed to be what a man wanted to hear. How many people had this worked on? How many people would drop to their knees for her? A fly waiting for the trap's jaws to close, snuffing out its life.
Emre looked up at her, the way she looked down her perfect nose with eyes glowing dangerously, waiting for his next move. Emre took her hand into his own, pulling it from his chest. “Maybe another time,” he said as the sound of Vendetta clearing her throat split the tense air of a machine pretending to be human and a human who was more machine than anything.
