So’lek is the type to get really in his head before confessing his feelings. He’d invite Tamtey on a walk and force them to stay in silence for a good 7-10 minutes, just casually surveying the forest. As our little beam of sunshine, Tamtey would try to initiate small talk, but would be met with very dry responses such as a hum, a “yes” or a “no”, and maybe even a grunt. Meanwhile in So’lek’s mind; utter shambles. Bro is quaking in his boots, but in a super cool nonchalant way.
When he finally finds the words, after casually navigating them to a particularly scenic spot, the moment Tamtey turns to him, all perky eared and wide eyed, waiting patiently to hear what So’lek has to say… he’d forget himself all over again, just by simply getting lost in her eyes; the way they catch the light just right, then admiring the curve of her jaw, the youthful roundness of her face… aaaand like that his heart is somehow lodged somewhere between his collar bone and his throat and the words he’d so preciously planned to say, disintegrate into the void. Instead of the romantic gesture he’d arranged by bringing her here, he’d offer Tamtey a, “You did well today.” praising her on whatever hunt or RDA confrontation she’d had, “Remember to let yourself rest between missions.”. Maybe he’d try again in a few more days.. perhaps another week.
However our girl Tamtey is in no way oblivious to his intentions and actually gets excited to see how close he gets to truly confessing each time. This is 100% around the time she starts calling him a chicken for the first time. It’s her little secret that she likes to watch him struggle. Cheeky girl~
I just love the idea that this stoic, strong, resilient, confident, slightly older man gets all flustered and tongue tied around this young woman; whom which now has that very man she sought to impress in the beginning, effortlessly wrapped around her finger.
CW: AUTOPSY, MEDICAL ABUSE OF A CORPSE, DESECRATION OF A CORPSE, IMPLIED/REFERENCED RAPE, IMPLIED/REFERENCED SEXUAL ABUSE OF MINORS. GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. IMPLIED/REFERENCED TORTURE.
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“Once Pandora opened the box, it let out all the horrors unto the world. Her regret was as immediate as her snapping the box shut, but it was too late…” Raphael had a bittersweet smile on his face, the children gathered in close to look at the book he had cradled in his lap.
Tamì’tey te Garcia Kataru’itu didn't wake up that day expecting to find themselves in the bowels of hell TAP again.
And if you had told them they did so out of curiosity, they would have told you that you had gone mad.
Yet here they were. In the bowels of the Sarentu clan's personal hell - referencing a blueprint of TAP they had never seen before. A blueprint Teylan had dug up during one of his many deep-dives into the data they had gathered from the RDA. Some information had to be decrypted, unredacted, filled in.
So.
It took time for some things to come to light.
When the archaic blueprints of TAP-Con 2 emerged with a section labeled Sublevel Basement, it caught Tamì’tey's suspicions immediately. Why would the RDA have gone through all this effort of hiding a whole basement from the maps? Tamì’tey had memorized all the escape routes from the fire drills Alma had with them and the other children though- instead of actually going outside, they would just stand by the exits..
Tamì’tey grimaced at the memory as they made their way to an electrical panel. Much like the rest of them - it was as tall and wide as about the average human. They noted the fresh air coming out from underneath it, faint- but very much there. They could smell traces of pollen and moss.
Just as they reached for the panel , they felt the familiar soft buzz of the comms being activated, their ears picking up as Teylan's voice came through.
‘Hey! Just checking in. Um. Have you found anything yet?’
“I found the electric panel they used to hide the entrance. I'm about to go check it out.”
There was a pause from Teylan, the silence betraying his hesitation.
‘...Tamì’tey? You know you don't have to do this, right?’
Teylan's words stopped them for a moment, thinking for a moment. It was like Pandora's box, pun notwithstanding.
Once they opened this panel and looked down there to see what TAP was hiding, there would be no going back.
But they had to know what it was. They had to uncover every terrible thing TAP had done. For the sake of their one true human friend there, of the other children that didn't make it out of there alive, for their clan that died at the massacre.
For Aha'ri.
Tamì’tey exhales into the radio.
“I will not let TAP hide their atrocities, Teylan. Don't worry about me, alright? I don't think there's anything down there that could surprise me.”
Not after what the RDA had done to all their people. Massacred in a sacred place their people had been visiting for generations upon generations, then were unceremoniously dissolved by acid.
Then came the yavä that plagued the Clouded Forest in pockets around the sacred Moot site. It was more than just some terrible human-made substance that made na’vi sick and hallucinate- even kill them if the exposure went on too long… It was the result of Ewya’eveng’s attempt to purge the acid, and failing to do so- creating a thick, green fog that choked everything around it.
Tamì’tey knew something about the fog many Na’vi didn’t though, they didn’t even have a word for ghosts in their language, but the fog was haunted.
They had come to that terrible conclusion themselves when the “hallucinations” didn’t cease, but clarified themselves after Okul had inoculated them against the yavä, guided to the ruins of TAP-CON 1 to uncover the terrible truths for themself.
Teylan’s voice over the radio shook them out of their daze.
‘I-I know that… It's just- you don't have to do this to yourself, you know? You said it yourself, the past is dead. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie? No… That's not quite the phrase I'm looking for…’
Tamì’tey glanced back down the maintenance tunnel from whence they came, there was a small part of them that entertained the idea of leaving- to crawl back through the bowels of hell and out into the sanctuary of Eywa’eveng.
But… What if something down there could protect her?
“I'm already in Hell, Teylan. Might as well go down to Tartarus.”
They opened the panel, unsurprised now to find a hallway leading to an elevator instead of neatly maintained wires.. It didn't help the growing pit in their stomach however, crouching down to squeeze themselves.
His voice bubbled through the comms again.
‘Just- be careful! We're here for you.’
Tamì’tey didn't expect their eyes to sting when he said that, and their sniffle was louder than they would have liked. Thankfully, Teylan didn't draw any direct attention to it.
“Irayo, Teylan. Talk to you soon.”
‘Talk to you soon...’ He echoed in reply as the buzz from the comms ceased, leaving them with just the hum of the electricity.
Tamì’tey could hear the quiet hum of electricity from the elevator even now, despite the overwhelming plantlife breaking through. The walls were covered in an amalgamate of algae, moss, and lichen. The vines offered enough of a gap to grip the doors, grunting with effort as they pushed. The doors protested with a shrill, rusty creaaaaaaak- stuttering with resistance as they forced them apart.
They dug their feet into the floor to shove the doors the rest of the way open with a shout, the metal giving away from their hands as it disappeared into the walls.
They were grateful to be met with an elevator shaft instead of the elevator itself- the last thing they wanted right now was to be in an even smaller metal box. They shivered as they remembered the last time they were alone with Mercer in an elevator - squeezing their eyes shut as their breath caught in Tamì’tey throat.
“No- NO! Get your fucking shit together Tamì’tey.” They cursed under their breath, nails digging into their palms till they stung- forcing a sharp exhale through their nose.
Their eyes cracked open, bracing a hand in the doorway as they peered down into the shaft to see just how far it went down. To their dismay, they couldn't see the bottom. Whether that be because of poor lighting and dense growth or because it was far, far down- who can say?
Tamì’tey didn't hesitate any further.
They took a running leap into the elevator shaft, wrenching their knife from its sheath to slam it into the vines, catching themselves against the wall with a grunt as the force of the landing jars their joints- causing them to grit their teeth. Tamì’tey huffs in an attempt to shake it off, refocusing on the task at hand.
They sheath the knife before climbing the rest of the way down, a dull metallic thud echoed when Tamì’tey landed atop of the elevator, brushing aside foliage to look for the emergency exit. The handle caught on their fingers as it dragged over the plants, honed in on it now as their grip wrapped around- gritting their teeth as the rust made it difficult to budge.
Tamì’tey was more stubborn than the rusted handle however. It gave way with one final groan and they stumbled forward, catching themselves on the door as they nearly fell in.
Fuck.
They peered into the elevator. The vines had forced open the doors down here too, even leaving almost enough of a gap to squeeze through. These elevator doors didn't need as much force as the last set, giving way underneath their hands to spill them out into an atrium.
It was empty, save for the growth and the set of secure doors - locked up tighter than what Tamì’tey was used to seeing with the RDA.
Within TAP.
‘Never a good sign when the doors are that secure.’ They weren't strong enough to wretch these dense doors open, so an alternative way was needed - nothing they couldn't figure out with SID and a little elbow grease.
They fiddled around with their weapons holster, pulling out a sticker-covered SID and using their thumb to flick it on- finding a panel to work their way back from, the SID indicated to them that they were on the right track, following the inactivated wire to a junction box to make some repairs. This rinsed and repeated the process a couple of times until their ears caught the little hum of electricity in the walls as the power was restored to the subbasement atrium
The wretched white lights casting their sickly glow over the fauna, chasing away the rich bioluminescence that had illuminated the room.
With the returning power, however- another detail was revealed to Tamì’tey. Algae and moss had obscured the view of the sign before, but now its letters were illuminated.
Their eyes slid over the word in shock.
“Morgue”
Morgue?
Morgue. TAP has had a morgue, this whole time.
And it wasn't on the map…
(It.. It was more than a Morgue, wasn't it?)
The thought filled them with a level of cold dread they had never felt before, trickling down their spine and creating a yawning pit in their stomach.
It wasn't like the dread they felt on those long walks to Mercer's office.
It was so much worse than that.
(One of the very few times Tamì’tey had ever been outside as a child was visiting their sister’s grave with Alma, and only they had been permitted to do so. The other Sarentu children weren’t “family”, only Tamtey was. None of them got to say good-bye to Aha’ri, not even Nor. That’s not something you get over easily.
Especially with the memory a Sarentu has.)
Their hands mindlessly searched for the button to open the door, feeling it sink underneath their fingers as the door let out a hiss. It startles Tamì’tey into responding with their own, backing away out of instinct, tail lashing.
‘It's just a door- it's just a door…’
They assured themself of this as they observed the doors drag open, shredding up the vines in its wake. Their ears pinned back at the sound of metal scraping with a little grit of their teeth, resisting the urge to cover their ears.
There they peered into the Morgue, finding themselves unable to step past the threshold as they got a chill up their spine- they swore they heard a whisper- tiny, like the voices they heard in the yavä.
Surely that was just a trick their mind had played on them- right?
Tamì’tey shook their head with their eyes squeezing shut, forcing their trembling hands to steady themselves as one of them reached up to the comms on their neck, swallowing hard that lump in their throat before they pressed the button.
“Teylan? I have reached the, uh- Sublevel Basement…” They tried to keep their voice from wavering as the comms softly buzzed in response. Teylan was usually quick to answer - something that was especially comforting in this moment.
“You make it sound like it’s not just a Sublevel Basement… What did you find?”
Tamì’tey sighs through their nose as they peered back into the room, toeing the threshold with hesitation.
“You’re too quick for me sometimes…”
“Tamì…” He says this gently but firmly. He’s not a kid anymore, they don’t need to protect him from everything.
“It’s– It’s a Morgue, Teylan…”
…
“Morgue?...” He echoes.
…
…
“...Teylan?”
They hear him suck a shaky breath in on the other end, the speakers crackling and popping a bit- Tamì’tey could just see Teylan bowing in on himself now with his hands in his hair.
“I-I’m here. It’s just… It really doesn’t stop with them, does it?”
Tamì’tey pressed in firmer on the comms to lock the button down and keep the channel open, freeing up their hand as they processed what he said.
“No… No, I guess it doesn’t. Something is always going to find its way back to haunt us.”
“I hate that.”
“So much for the past being dead…”
“Look… You can just come home, yea? You know what it is now- we have evidence already, do we really need more?”
“Yes.”
…
“Do you want me to stay on the comms with you?”
“You don’t have-”
“I do not, but I want to. Do you want me to stay on the comms?”
Tamì’tey’s eyes stung, nodding even though Teylan couldn’t see them.
“Y-Yea- Yea. That would help… Irayo.”
“Then let's do this.”
“Let’s… do this.” Tamì’tey echoed back.
Usually they were the ones doing the hyping up and encouragement, and it got just the tiniest smile on their face. No one was around to witness it anyways, but it evaporated as they drew their bow and knocked an arrow. Tamì’tey swallowed down their fear as they took a tentative step forward, they hadn’t caught any scents nor did they hear anything within the Morgue that told them that there were threats.
The bow in their hands was more a security blanket.
Few lights still retained their function, some of them hanging from the ceiling by frayed and spitting wires. Tamì’tey was mindful and dodged the sparks and the puddles of water where they landed. First observations of the room yielded a few alarming details to Tamì’tey that already made their stomach churn. The metal wall lined with raised, squared doors, their handles being the kind that operated like a hatch, to seal whatever it was inside.
“WARNING: MORTUARY COOLER TO BE KEPT AT TEMPS BETWEEN 34 F AND 40 F”
-was emblazoned on the wall above the cooler. Tamì’tey counted nine doors in all, the size of which reminded them of the countless vents they had crawled through- just enough for Na’vi to crouch down in or… Lay down. The thought chilled them.
It made him shiver at the thought of their sister and the other children in one of those boxes. A part of them wondered if Raph had been kept here too.
“I see coolers for bodies…” Tamì’tey said, half wishing they had their camera with them. Maybe it would have been a good idea to take pictures of this place, but then again. Their photography was their hobby, TAP didn’t need to ruin that for them too. “Nine doors.”
“Why so many…?”
“I… I can’t even give you a guess for that, pal.”
Second, as they continued their scan of the room, their eyes caught on the words “CREMATORIUM” on the adjacent wall. Their eyes dragged downwards, spotting the vine covered, singular slot for cremation. That was enough to make bile rise to the back of their throat, trying to remind himself that Aha’ri had been buried, not cremated.
This was little comfort to them with the doubts they were having in the back of their mind.
“There’s… There is a crematorium.”
“Of course there is.” His tone was unsurprised, but it betrayed his quiet anger nonetheless.
“Of course there is…” Tamì’tey repeated numbly.
They didn’t know if the other children were as “lucky” as Aha’ri had been...
Third… They observed the command console, in a center that existed on a raised platform encircled in glass in the room.
‘Only one way to find out…’ They thought bitterly, keeping their arrow half-at-the-ready as they pressed onwards, forcing themselves to pick up their leaded feet as they felt the metal grate of the stairs dig into their soles. The stairs themselves betrayed the years Pandora had on them, overgrown and warped from the pushing vines and deep roots that had found their way down here.
“I found the command center, it overlooks the whole room. It’s got two sets of stairs flanking it.”
Teylan hummed in reply.
The plant life had done enough damage to the integrity of the stairwell that Tamì’tey had to jump over a small gap to get to the command center, praying they wouldn’t have to do a lot of fiddling around with SID to get what they needed from the servers.
The door was stuck open most of the way, making repeated attempts to close, blocked by a root that had crept in its path long ago. The RDA must have left the place in a hurry if the door was left open. Likely around the time they were evacuating Hell’s Gate and were all put into cryosleep.
It was hard to ignore the bitter feeling in their chest when they thought of Alma as they made their way to the console. They tentatively pressed the power button as if it would break, blow up, or both.
They sighed in relief when it did neither of those things.
There were several monitors that lined the edge of a massive screen. It was then Tamì’tey noticed the eyes lining the room - some of them having the red lights on that indicated they were actively recording.
‘Shit.’
Tucking away their bow, Tamì’tey hissed under their breath as they reached into their pouch to pull out the thumbdrive Teylan had given them earlier.
“Teylan, I’m about to start the download.”
“…”
“Teylan?” They repeated, earning no reply.
The soft hum of electricity was gone from the comms, and it then dawned on them that the RDA failsafes must have kicked in, throwing up faraday protocols to keep signals in and out of the facility.
“SHIT!” Tamì’tey snarled.
The RDA would likely be here soon, they had no idea how long they had until they showed up. It could be minutes or hours, but they usually weren’t so lucky on the latter.
Their fingers flew over the keys, thumbing the trackpad while their fangs dug into their bottom lip. A bad habit from their TAP days that lingered on even still.
The thumbdrive packed a hefty fifteen terabytes of room on it, enough room to hopefully download everything off of the servers- or at least enough of it to add to the pile of ever-growing damning evidence they had.
Evidence that they hoped would come handy one day, one way or another.
Tamì’tey braced himself as he opened the File Manager, not even reading any of the names of the files as they fiddled around to select them all and set them to download to the thumb drive.
→ “Download in progress: 12,987 files found, 1 of 12,987 uploaded.”
→ “Estimated Download Time: 25 Minutes.
Tamì’tey’s ears laced, hissing out a “fuck” under their breath as their hands reached up to tug at their ears in frustration.
‘Ma’Ewya, please don’t let the RDA show up.’ It was a silent prayer mouthed without a word uttered, trying their best to reel back in their mind- thoughts swarming like Kinglor, each scenario worse than the last.
They needed to keep their mind occupied…
Occupied…
Their verdant eyes flitted to the monitor in front of them, scanning the names of the files currently on the screen before them and that little progress bar slowly inching along.
→ “2% Downloaded”
They glanced at the files again, reaching for the trackpad before stopping just an inch from the key as their eyes darted to the screen again. They could hear nothing but the pounding of their heart in their ears.
They didn’t have to look at the files. They didn’t have to know what they said or contained. Nowadays, the horrors of TAP and the RDA were kept on three drives, duplicates of each other, and kept among trusted members of the Resistance - Alex, Teylan, Anqa. Many of them only knew the surface level of the nightmare, what the bowels hell within TAP actually hid. Even those who did dig into the files could only dig so deep before they couldn’t stomach anymore of it.
As a kid, they’d only known one person who’d been brave enough to try.
The screen blurred as their eyes stung with tears, but they quickly wiped their arm across his face, clearing their nose with a sniff as they tapped on the trackpad.
“If Teylan can handle it, I can handle it.” He tried to reassure himself, scrolling down the list, scanning the names of the files to see if anything caught their eyes. Many of the files had the default names assigned to them by the system, a string of random numbers and letters followed by a .png, .jpg, .pdf, .zip and .mov.
“Maybe if I sort it alphabetically?...” Tamì’tey suggested to themself, the cursor dragged across the screen with a few swipes of their fingers, their heart still rattled around in their chest.
They pushed past the hesitation out of habit.
Alphabetic order would be the easiest place to start.
“AHA’RI- AUTOPSY REPORT.zip”
…Autopsy report?
They read it again.
And again.
And again.
Their ears start ringing as their vision blurred, bracing a hand on the console as he felt himself suddenly get lightheaded to catch himself from falling over.
“F-fuck- get it together. Keep it together.”
They swallowed down the lump in their throat as they forced their trembling hand back to the trackpad, not even processing the other names on the screen as Tamì’tey dragged the cursor to Aha’ri’s name.
They double click.
Tamì’tey’s breath hitched sharply in their throat as the file extracts, staring at the names of the icons on the screen. Dozens of loose image thumbnails with images of her vacant expression, framed similarly to her TAP profile picture - but instead of a shirt, she wore a white sheet, tucked neatly under her chin.
As they clicked the first file, their heart dropped when a media player loaded up- the speakers crackling to life as audio rasped through the mesh, causing their stomach to churn while their eyes glued to the screen. They couldn’t look anywhere else. Black at first, but then the camera was uncovered, and a man they didn’t recognize filled the screen before he took a few steps back.
They didn’t feel like they were in their own body anymore. It’s like they were looking over their own shoulder as the man just barely obscured a body behind him on the autopsy table- Aha’ri’s body.
The unknown scientist cleared his throat as he brought a clipboard into view. Tamì’tey could catch glimpses of the images and information on it as he flipped through the sheets, skimming the pages with an idle look on his face.
Like he wasn’t about to cut open a murdered child.
“TAP Subject 002, Name: Aha’ri, Age: 13 years old, Height: six feet, five inches, 3 centimeters tall.” The speakers kept crackling over the man’s words, but Tamì’tey could unfortunately still make out what was being said.
He stepped further back from the camera as he adjusted his glasses and prepared to gown up, the camera continuing to record. And much to their horror, the other screens flickered on- providing other camera angles of the autopsy table; zoomed in on different limbs, on her face- one being a bird’s eye view of it all.
Tamì’tey felt like Mercer’s hand was around their throat. They couldn’t breathe, they couldn’t swallow, they could do nothing but watch. They were too far gone to feel sick at this point, not even noticing the progress bar on the download had been updated to 15 percent.
They watched helplessly as this scientist casually donned the rest of his PPE while he continued to idly narrate, not making even a single mention of who had killed her.
“Subject was shot with a single bullet to the chest cavity, initial hypothesis for cause of death is the bullet severed either the aorta or pulmonary artery. Expired from blood loss after approximately a minute. Will need to perform an autopsy to confirm findings and collect samples for research.”
One of the monitors displayed the tray of tools, pristine, sterile- shining under the bright white lights of the morgue as a gloved hand reached for the black sharpie, the other monitor showed his free hand shifting the sheet downwards to just below Aha’ri’s diaphragm.
Research?
Their ears flicked at the sound of the marker being uncapped as their eyes remained glued to the screen, the felt tip dragging down Aha’ri’s chest. Tamì’tey half found themself looking for her chest to stir even now. Even if they knew it never would.
“After autopsy, the subject's remains will be catalogued, documented, and remaining biowaste will be cremated.”
Biowaste?
Cremated?!
Tamì’tey only finally blinked when the speakers betrayed a new voice- muffled behind doors, yelling- no, screaming at someone. There was the faint hiss of the hydraulic doors on the speakers as Alma stormed in- with Mercer following suit.
“I TOLD YOU TO STAND DOWN CORTEZ!”
“NO! JOHN- THIS IS OUR PROJECT!” She whirled around on him, half paused on the steps leading up to the center of the room where the autopsy was taking place. “YOU CAN’T JUST KILL ONE OF THE CHILDREN AND THEN DESECRATE HER CORPSE!”
‘Our project…’ echoed in their head as something in them snapped, the trembling in their hands stilling as a quiet rage started to build in their chest. Tamì’tey gritted their teeth as the Examiner rolled his eyes at the two while they approached the autopsy table. He stole a glance at Mercer as he covered Aha’ri’s body back up with the sheet- draping it even over her face, covering her vacant stare at the camera looking down on her.
“I would hardly call it desecration, Dr. Cortez.” The Examiner replied cooly, though he did betray a little offense in his tone as he folded his hands behind his back. “It is a necessary part of the job. You signed up for this when you agreed to co-direct TAP.”
Alma squeezed her eyes shut as she stiffened for a moment, feeling Mercer’s smirk as he crossed his arms. She forced an exhale through her nose and met the Examiner’s gaze with a knit in her brows. “Dr. Tanner, with all due respect for your degrees and your job, surely even you can understand that this is desecration? If the Na’vi ever found out we–”
Mercer rolled his eyes and gave a loud groan, throwing his hands in the air before pointing an accusing finger at Alma.
“Oh Jesus CHRIST- It’s always about those fucking filth with you! Na’vi this, Na’vi that- It’s always: ‘Oh! We’ll offend them if we do that!’ or ‘That's a sacred tree! We can’t cut it down or else!’” Mercer ranted as his pale face shifted a couple hues pinker, riled up by his own words. “I’m done with it Cortez! TAP isn’t some fucking pet project, it is how humanity secures it’s future on Pandora. We need to recoup the loss somehow, it’s,” And he pauses, long enough to point to their dead sister on the table, long enough for Tamì’tey’s blood to start to boil. “Death has put us 20 million dollars down the drain alone!”
“She wouldn’t even be dead if you hadn’t lost your fucking temper, John! Aha’ri is–” The feed caught the pixels that were the tears in her eyes. “Was a child. You’re a grown man! You should know better!”
Mercer’s expression twitched, his nose crinkling with his snarling expression.
“How DARE you speak–”
Dr. Tanner rolled his eyes as he raised a gloved hand up with his palm facing out, clearing his throat.
“Now folks, we are all adults here…” Dr. Tanner tried smiling politely, but the corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle when he did so. The smile was as fake as he was. “And we all have jobs to do. I’m sure I don’t need to call Administrator Selfridge now, do I?” His cool eyes focused particularly on Mercer at that, who rolled his eyes.
“You do not need to drag my cousin into this.”
“Then we are in agreement then, I will continue with my autopsy and do my job. And you two will continue your jobs as Co-Directors of TAP. And, most importantly, The Chairman won’t need to hear of how Director Mercer wasted twenty million dollars by losing his temper. ”
Mercer’s eye twitched at that, and instead of getting Alma’s shoulders slumped as she looked over at Aha’ri, her hands balled up at her sides as she looked between Dr. Tanner and Mercer.
“What’s going to happen to her remains?”
“You know this Dr. Cortez, what we do with all the remains. Cremation.” Dr. Tanner replied plainly, lifting his glove to check his watch. “This conversation is going to make me have a late dinner.”
“No- she can’t be cremated, she should be buried like-”
Mercer looked at her again, his gaze all too gleeful as he replied: “What? Like a Na’vi? Like we did to their clan?” He was delighted in the way she looked at him. “You need to get your head out of the clouds, Cortez. The blues are not our people, they’re a means to an end, and it’s time you get with the program or I will find someone else who will- do I make myself clear?”
Alma’s face faltered as her hands loosened, a tear running down her face as she glanced at Aha’ri again- her eyes squeezing shut for a moment as she mouthed a ‘yes’.
“Oh, I’m sorry- I couldn’t hear you, what was that?”
“Yes.” Alma choked out.
Mercer smirked. Dr. Tanner betrayed no such expression on his face, but his eyes said it all.
He took just as much delight in this as Mercer did.
“Can- we at least bury something?...”
“You can bury her biowaste.” Dr. Tanner replied.
“But-”
“You can bury her biowaste.” He repeated, looking at Mercer when he said that. Like there was no point in debating this compromise he offered up.
Alma just nods bitterly, taking a step back as she takes a glance between Mercer and Dr. Tanner again, dipping her head before turning heel and making her way off the platform.
The next words chilled Tamì’tey more than anything else Mercer could have possibly said just then.
“Hey, Doc. Save me the ashes won’t you?”
Tamì’tey’s knees buckled.
Her ashes, their sister’s ashes, had been in that man’s possession - Tamì’tey dared to hold onto the shred of hope that Dr. Tanner would deny his request, but their mouth unhinged in a silent wail as the doctor smiled and nodded.
“Of course. Now, move along. This kind of thing isn’t suited to your tastes anyways.”
Their hand covered their mouth as Mercer laughed and clapped him over the shoulder. The bone saw whirrs to life before Mercer had even stepped foot out of the room while Dr. Tanner uncovered Aha’ri again with his free hand.
Tamì’tey hadn’t noticed the sound of the alarm blaring around them at this point, nor the flashing red lights swiping over the walls, casting deep shadows in the overgrown room as the RDA flooded the room from all possible exits- including the hanger door that led directly to outside.
All they noticed was what was playing out before them on the screen, mind racing with a swarm of thoughts as they watched that bonesaw pierce their sister’s flesh, the sight blurring from their searing tears while their nose twitched into a snarl.
They didn’t hear the thundering footsteps of boots from leather and metal alike, they didn’t hear the voices shouting commands at each other, they didn’t hear the sounds of guns being loaded- all they could hear was the crunch of her sternum as the metal ripped through it, her blue eyes still staring at the camera above her- unblinking, unreacting to the saw tearing through her chest as the Examiner carefully dragged it over the guideline- a line of red on her blue skin.
“A-Aha’ri–” They choked, hand dragging down their chin as they dragged themselves up to their feet, sobbing her name over and over until–
“IT’S OVER HERE! CONSOLE ROOM!”
Their eyes snapped to the window as the autopsy continued to play on the screen. Dr. Tanner’s voice droning on callously about his observations about their sister- who he kept on referring to as The Subject, like she didn’t even have a name.
The red in their vision wasn’t from the flashing alarms. It was from the rage. Searing, burning, rage swelling like a storm, ripping through their very being.
It was all they felt. In place of the grief, in place of the horror, nothing was left but the rage, the rage that they had forgiven Alma, that she had lied to them about Aha’ri’s grave, about the fate of their people, about–
Everything.
The room had swarmed with RDA now. Some poured their way up the steps to the command center, AMP suits closing the gap on the broken side of the stairs, while the grunts took aim with their rifles at the windows.
At them.
They had to move.
Tamì’tey dropped just as the bullets started to fly. The bulletproof glass around the command center only bought them enough time to pull their shotgun from its holster, ears pinned flat as they loaded Dragonsbreath bullets into the chamber. Tamì’tey wanted to feel something else, hear anything else other than the buzzing bonesaw and the tear of flesh. They wanted to feel blood, they wanted to feel the human’s fear - the same hopeless fear the RDA had subjected to all the Sarentu children.
They jumped up just as an AMP forced its way through the door, taking clumsy potshots at them as Tamì aimed their sights down into the cockpitt, spitting out a furious hiss as their bullets shattered the shutters and glass as it ignited. The AMP suit dropped its gun as the owner of it screamed, the arms flailing helplessly like the human inside.
‘More.’
A voice murmured deep inside them urged as the AMP crumpled to the side - and Tamì’tey heard the door behind them hiss with the hydraulics as it opened to allow in a pair of soldiers, opening fire as soon as they stepped into the room.
Tamì’tey rolled behind the nearest desk, drawing the fire away from the console as they pumped the shotgun - waiting until the humans were flanking before popping out and shooting. One body crumpled to the floor with a slick thud as they whirled to the next, bullet tearing through the human’s neck.
‘MORE!’
The smell of smoke and burning flesh started to fill their nostrils as they stepped over the bodies, ignorant of the shards cutting into their feet. They kept low beneath the firing line of the windows as bullets started sprayed into the room. Tamì’tey grabbed a flashbang grenade off of their chest, tore the pin out with their teeth, and hawked it around the corner.
“GRENADE!”
“GET DOWN!”
“FLASHBANG!”
They waited for the pop before they went charging out, firing blindly into the smoke with a furious scream. Their fiery bullets find their marks even if the shot wasn’t fatal. The way the bullet exploded on contact and set its victims ablaze would, regardless, take their lives.
Harding taught them that.
They charged down the stairs, swapping their shotgun for the heavy bow. A Grenadier fired haphazardly after them as other soldiers moved up, the volley of bullets following them while Tamì’tey took aim for the grenade launcher and fired just before they ducked down behind a column. The explosion that followed killed more than just the pilot of the AMP — scattering chunks of gore like bursts of spores. One of them writhed in agony from the flames as a blood curdling scream ruptured out of them, but it garnered no sympathy from Tamì’tey as their wrath only grew, replying in kind with their own seething scream as they charged out of their hiding place.
They don’t know what compelled them to hold their bow the way they did, a human would have compared it to being held like a baseball bat- their own voice in their head crying out for-
‘MORE!
MORE!
MORE!!!’
Swinging their bow as the humans reloaded a little too late.
They bore down on the grunts just as it registered in their eyes that Death on Wings was about to beat them to death, wielding it in a tight arc with such force that the air whistled- followed by a loud sickening crack as the bow made contact with the skull, if the impact alone hadn’t killed the human- the internal decapitation did.
The human next to them let out a yelp, dropping their gun as they held up their palms-
Any other time, Tamì’tey would have let them run.
Their wrath got the better of the Sarentu. They hissed as they swung the bow, catching the underside of the human’s jaw, watching as their eyes bulged out of their head from the impact and the crunch of teeth breaking. Hot blood spattered across their cheek. They were in no state of mind to second guess how good that felt.
KILL THEM ALL.
Something stung Tamì’tey in the arm and side- hissing and ducking down as they shoved themselves behind a downed AMP suit, bullets ricocheting off the metal. There was no real pain. Not significant enough for them to take heed of anyways. It was like kicking a Stingbat nest. They charged as soon as they heard the majority of them run out of rounds.
Tamì’tey hurled their bow in such a way it caught not two, but three of the soldiers in the head, causing the bow itself to splinter and break. The humans ragdolled, heads colliding with a sickening crunching sound. The bodies all collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap. At least one of them clung to life, but they were in no shape to do anymore damage. The remaining grunts were still trying to aim their guns as Tamì’tey whirled on them.
One of the grunts let out a shrill scream as Death on Wings closed the gap. Their hands engulfed the grunt’s skull as they yanked up. The others gawked in shock as their comrade had their skull crushed with a sickening crunch.
They closed their eyes in time to shield them from the torrent of blood that coated their face and neck, the warmth reminding them of the hot showers- sometimes too hot.
“Filthy vermin.” Mercer’s voice echoed on the wet tile. “It’ll never be clean.”
Their eyes slid open, meeting the terrified gazes of the humans below them with a snap as they flinched, dropping their guns and trying to run.
‘Filth. I’ll show you FILTH.’
It was a blur. One moment they were closing the gap between themselves - the next something warm and metallic gushed in their mouth, flesh giving way under their teeth.
The taste of iron and the smell of gunpowder had them right back at TAP, with Harding barking orders in their ear and Mercer’s icy gaze marking up their body without even laying a finger on them. They almost became completely blind to it all as their rampage dragged on. They lost count of the waves, but they always stopped sending people eventually, people cost money.
Another skull was crushed between their hands like a fruit as echoes of ancient commands rang in their ears, overlapping Harding’s.
Their blunted fingers rendered into someone’s flesh like clay. Their teeth found purchase in throats, arms, bellies- whatever vulnerability they could find they would take, and take, and TAKE.
They were ignorant of the glass shards embedded in their knuckles as they ripped the bastards out of their AMPS, burying their knife in their bellies and ripping upwards to their throats, disemboweled like prey- but not given the dignity of a quick or clean death. It didn’t matter what the humans threw, nothing stuck- nothing could break them from their ceaseless wrath as more humans foolishly poured into the fray.
Out of habit they tried for their shotgun-
The sensation was like their skull got cleaved into two when the AMP Pyro yanked them up by their kuru, a screech of pain tearing out of their throat as the pilot held them up high for the others to see. The cheers and jeers of the humans filling their ears as tears of agony welling behind their shut eyes.
They managed to force themselves through the blinding pain enough to reach for one of the grenades strapped to their chest - not knowing whether it was the explosive or flashbang - but it was a gamble they would have to take.
A metal hand clumsily tried to grab them just as they pulled the pin, their finger curled tight around it as they allowed the metal hand to snatch away the grenade.
Tamì’tey dropped the pin from their hand with a ting.
The grunts panicked in their few remaining seconds. Tamì’tey and the grenade were dropped by the AMP Pyro in the chaos, the concrete jarring their knees.
Sheer instinct kicked in, just in time for them to push themselves up and dive.
Tamì’tey caught the heat and the force but none of the fire, flung forward with the humans. Their ears were ringing, and they dazed from the splitting headache, but alive.
The ringing muffled the wails of agony around them from some of the soldiers unfortunate enough to survive the blast. Tamì’tey crawled to safety as smoke started to fill the room, bringing with it the scent of gasoline that seared their nostrils and throat. They found somewhere to duck away while fumbling with their gear, hand desperately feeling around for the exopack as their eyes stung with the smoke. Rage still boiled in their chest, hissing as they flustered themselves with the straps.
A gunshot rang out before Tamì’tey could even get the straps over their ears. The hiss turned into a screech as more pain bloomed across their shoulder. Their furious gaze snaps to the direction of the gunshot.
“Shit.” They heard a voice say, and it was then followed by “Shitshitshit” under his breath as the Na’vi rose to their full height with hardly a stumble, teeth gritted as they bare them in a snarl. Tamì’tey stalked their way through the smoke, not even giving a damn about the exopack as they heard the sounds of a gun being frantically reloaded, empty shells clinking on the concrete.
The barrel of the shotgun emerged from the smoke pointed up at their face, the human letting out a terrified scream as Death on Wings loomed over him while his finger hovered over the trigger- his eyes as wide as moons as he met their enraged but tearful gaze.
…They didn’t know they were still crying.
The tears had cut tracks through their warpaint and the blood coated on their face. The human stared back at Tamì’tey’s wide, unblinking gaze as his finger hesitated over the trigger.
They didn’t know why the human hesitated. They didn’t question it as they nabbed the barrel of the shotgun, ripped it out of his hands, the other grabbing the human by the throat.
Desperate hands clung to their wrists, his face turning red and eyes bulging with the burn of their grip. Tamì’tey bared their bloodstained teeth as they seethed.
They saw the man’s mouth moving, but heard no words.
He was pleading for his life, they knew this much. Yet how many of their clan pleaded for theirs? The tears streamed uselessly down his face, his begging fell on deaf ears. Tamì’tey would have ended his life right then had they not taken that sharp inhale through their nose, something else cutting through blood, gasoline, and smoke.
Someone else.
Tamì’tey’s grip on his throat loosened as they blinked, finally- they noticed the man had been pleading in mixed- English? Spanish?
“Please- Por favor, oh dios mio– I do not want to die here, please– I came here to find my father, I-I-” He sobbed. “Ngay–Ngaytxoa?? Sorry, I’m so-sorry! I never shoulda shot you in the leg! I– I was being stupid!” Tumbled out of his mouth as Tamì’tey’s grip slackened, the confusion in the man’s eyes mirrored Tamì’tey's own. “A- a stupid c-crybaby-”
Crybaby.
Their eyes went down to the man’s dog tags.
It made their breath catch in their throat.
“Gabriel R. Garcia”
“R-Raphael?” Escaped Tamì’tey’s mouth, and the wide-eyed bewilderment of the human before them was all the confirmation they needed for it to click in their head:
They were holding Raph’s child up by the neck.
They had very nearly killed him.
They didn’t mean to drop him.
Their hand unclenched from the man’s throat out of shock as they stepped back from where he dropped. They watch just long enough to see him roll onto his side while he massages his throat, coughing for air.
‘What have I done?’
Tamì’tey turns.
“W-Wait-” They heard him say as their eyes welled with fresh tears, nearly slipping in a puddle of blood as they ran. “W-wait! You said- Raphael-”
Tamì’tey got a good glimpse of their rampage, of ripped out throats and gouged out eyes, skins burned by incendiary rounds and clawed with their blunted nails. Skulls cracked open like eggs, the yolk of their minds obliterated in their footprints. A small part of them still felt some satisfaction at the scene before them, and they didn’t know whether to be scared or disgusted with themself for it.
No matter how much that little part of them, that voice that urged them, no- insisted that they all deserved to die in such fashion- Tamì’tey still found that their regret and horror at it all was louder than their satisfaction for it. Death was their job, of course- but they didn’t have to be a monster about it, to be depraved like–
Oh Ewya–
Am I turning into Mercer?
The rage that had seared in their blood before had been plunged into icy shock, sending them scrambling for the nearest exit, the man kept calling out for them- but they didn’t stop, they couldn’t stop.
Run.
That’s all he could bring himself to do was run.
“You sound just like Mercer…” Nor’s voice echoed in their head, for a split second they weren’t hundreds of feet underground. They were hundreds of feet in the air, all the joy from the iknimaya was spoiled in those five words.
They didn’t pay much attention to the fact that there were hanger doors underneath the overhang of the console room. They could smell fresh air and that was good enough to take an unfamiliar route in an unfamiliar place, abandoning the thumbdrive and Gabriel in their panic.
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