The Doomsday team- Part 7
of the Random lil Bloodymary x reader fanfic idea i've had drilling around in my head
Like what if you met them after being left in space yourself- completely alone and resigned to your fate and then boom. Chaos. Omfg i cant stop thinking about it. (cross posted to ao3)
Find Part one , Part two, Part three , four here! and part 6 🦊☀️
Chapter 8 should be with you guys faster than this one- im going to aim to upload once a weekish from now on. I know its all i bloodywell say but THANK U GUYS SO MUCH again for the all notes and love its been rly rewarding to have so much interaction with my work- like little ole me i could have never thought over 300 people would read my work ahhhh.
tag list: @james-barnes-congressman @angstyjellybean
If anyone else wants to be on the list lemme know :)
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Hey y’all just adding a note to this rather than a whole new post- i’m pausing the series for a week MAYBE two- Chapter 8 is pretty much done but i reread through the whole thing and found some pretty glaring editing issues i want to sort out before continuing. Pls forgive me for lying about editing at the end (this is exactly why i don’t read my own work after writing the chapter lmao)🫶🏻
The Artemis was dead, floating in silent waters without so much as a torchlight to expose their lost comrades. Looking back at the blinking light of the open radio channel wasn't helping. An hour of unanswered calls had turned desperation into routine. The only sound between him and his stony companion had grown to annoyance as they fought between themselves for the controls.
If Reader or Grace had heard even one transmission, neither had found a way to answer. Something could've been blocking it- or perhaps they just couldn't get the signal far enough yet.
And while they waited, mostly to see if the impossible would happen- a six-thousand degree streak sneaked itself across the sky, disappearing into the dark pit suspended above. At first Simon didn't know exactly what he was looking at, partially because Rocky's technology mystified him- but mostly because he couldn't explain how nothing was producing enough thermal energy through the vacuum of space to register on their sensors.
“Simon, Rocky study streak. Send probe for sample. Statement.”
Rocky hadn't waited for permission. He rarely did when something needed fixing. His stone appendages had been moving nimbly over the last hour, knitting together the probe's xenon structure while Simon sat alone with the screen in front of him, its steady beeps feeding him information he didn’t want to keep seeing.
He felt like smashing the screen, screaming through the radio at that thing outside. Maybe he’d fill the shuttle with astrophage and push it out- hope that thing swallowed it down with a bang, watching with the grim satisfaction of seeing something else suffer for a change. The only issue was he had no idea how that would affect Artemis- and besides after everything, he sure as shit wasn’t getting back in a slightly nicer tin can to die.
“If we send the probe out- how are we gonna get it back in?” Simon asked.
“Rocky and Simon use shuttle thrusters- VI show Rocky blueprints, very durable.” He clattered over, pushing against Simons back in the chair, edging him out of it with each bump.
“Use shuttle's navigation system. Fly there and back using set target.” He finished with an enthusiastic jazz hand as Simon finally lifted himself out of the kevlar seat.
Rocky took his movement as permission to shoot away, running back down the narrow passageway to the lab. Long blocky legs blurring into one brown motion that spoke to his constantly restless nature, knocking to the floor papers and other scattered objects Grace had left strewn about in his wake.
“Rocky, wait a sec.” Simon tried to cajole the rolling ball.
“Rocky Simon must start work, make probe- save friends.”
His statement was simple, if not overturned by the low hum of sadness that cut through his chimes and squeaks.
“Grace will be ok, I’m sure he'll answer the radio soon.” His words didn't seem to appease his spidery friend, who stomped a foot to the floor.
“Not know means find out.” And with that he’d disappeared back into the lab, leaving Simon standing between the door and the console behind him.
The sound of fabric hitting the lab's floor told him Rocky was done waiting for Simon to decide. He sighed, looking at the flightsit the alien had dragged down from its perch.
“Want Grace, Reader.” Rocky answered, “But. Simon is right. Is dangerous.”
“Dangerous.” He repeated.
“Danger is not trouble for friends. Friends mean more than safe, safe is not safe without friends.”
The only explanation they'd been able to scrape together as Simon stripped the thrusters from the shuttle was another antiproton attack. It could explain the comms block and the lack of power. Even if unwillingly, he was glad they made the decision to back Mary away from the two ships, crawling past until the first star peaked over the dark horizon. Far enough that he’d not felt like prey under a lion's gaze.
Now, watching from a distance he could see just how much larger the other ship was. The Artemis was designed like a stingray- at least, Simon thought it was. He wasn't entirely sure what one looked like, but the approximation was close enough. Bronze body, flat and wide with a slight tail, split in the middle to account for whatever engine propelled them forward. It dwarfed Mary in a way that made the other ship look infantile, small enough to be cradled inside.
Which is why he felt so sick looking at the black dread that rose above them all. Large enough to swallow a planet.
By the time he'd stripped the shuttle he was extra grateful to be back in the lab- next to Rocky, where he could feel the slight heat from the aliens dome. Occasionally as they worked he rested his shaking leg against it, leaning into the glass every time his eyes sketched a crumbling iron grave before him.
Simon kept staring through the glass, he couldn't help himself. Even from here it looked impossible.
“Cold? Question.” Rocky asked.
He pulled himself away, trying not to look as reluctant as he felt to lose his friend's warmth, even if it was through glass.
“Is ok.” Rocky straightened to a point as he stretched up, the hours of tension falling off him.
“Simon prepared to pilot probe. Question.”
The casing was pushed from the lab, now waiting patiently inside their airlock. All that was left was to couple the probe with the ship's navigation system from the flight deck.
The console looked different after hours in the lab. His mind, like a knee jerk reaction, recalled the first time Grace's hand had brushed over his. Too distracted with the flicking of switches and their explanations he’d hardly realised the blush creeping down Simon's neck. The console felt smaller now, the crudely drawn kids art strangely hostile without their muse to compliment.
He looked at the emergency radio once more, eyes lingering over the red light. Nothing.
“It's now or never.” He replied, letting the corner of his mouth twitch down before steeling his face.
With a heavy thud the outerhatch clawed open, and the probe kicked free. Becoming impossibly small as its borrowed thrusters ignited, the white exhaust spreading streaks that dissipated like mist in its wake, the machine vanishing into nothing as black space consumed it.
“Are we getting any readings?”
He took his eyes away from the glass as he spoke and watched as Rocky's appendages poked harshly at his Eridian screen reader, slamming over and over into it until finally it was flung to the ground.
“Wrong. Is bad, Rocky think made mistake on probe.”
Simon shifted the chair across the rail, letting it carry him to the alien and the screen that had upset him. He wasn't far behind, the words quickly falling from his lips before he could think.
“What does that mean Rocky?” The chemical symbol on screen was one he recognised, far too well.
The very same that drifted around Filament station.
Protect the tree. Kill the unrighteous. Watch them burn and melt from the fucking radiation as he tried to stop their core from erasing everyone. He’d never meant for any of it. Yet, here it was again staring him the fucking face. Not antiprotons.
Fusion byproduct. Nuclear fallout.
Simon wanted the screen to be false too, wanted to accept the unlikely reality his friend could have failed in his craft. But the display resolutely continued punching out the same reading.
“Run the sample again, maybe the interference is messing with the data.” He argued.
Rocky's voice sounded small, back to tapping on the screen. Hunched over it as though he might be able to sink into it and let the data flow directly into him. Attention lost on Simon's whitening knuckles as he gripped onto the kevlar under him.
“Well just do it again.” He winced at his own raised voice, not even a shout but filling the space and thickening the air- his breaths forced to come in harder.
The discarded tablet and its partnered scanner were righted, quickly glazing over the screen in front of Simon- stopping beside the one monitoring the Artemis's life support.
‘Not attack, take.” He continued, “Ship like astrophage. Bad. Take.”
“Mary?” He called out. “Explain the thermal reading.”
“Thermal input rising at same rate Artemis dropping.” Mary's voice chimed through the intercom.
For a moment, Simon couldn't make the numbers mean anything.
“Unknown” Rocky answered.
Rotten eggs, Gun powder and cooked meat.
The smell was choking you, or maybe it was the taste coating your tongue. Like burnt pork on a chargrill. Your mouth was stuck open, is that why your jaw hurt? Something was hitting you. Or moving you. You couldn't tell. Every impact kicked through your arms and legs, forcing your body tighter as you flailed against it. Your limbs refused you, folding tight against your chest.
You were trying to, but you couldn't see a thing. You fear for a moment you might be blind, that something has gone terribly wrong. Maybe a shaft collapsed, and you're laying crushed beneath the sandstone mountains of 16 Psy. But you can't hear the scream of an old mining drill, just your own.
Your spasming lungs knock your body back to a floor it had no memory of standing up from. Holding you to the ground long enough to wonder if you were dying. Although now you weren't sure where- at least it wasn't beneath miles of rock. Your family might actually be able to buy your corpse back now.
Get up, we can't stay here.
Yes, keep moving. Here was something bad- something important. You were still too heavy though- too consumed by the waves of emptiness breaking against your ankles. They were warm as they pulled you from whatever titan had folded your limbs away. Up and out your crying mind into a sunset that crowned across the sky, staining the sea below gold.
The force of the slap, and the blue of his eyes are what registered first. Then you blinked, and the skin that had held you together so dutifully now turned against you. Nerves awakening across your entire body and evaporating over your hands- dear god what had happened to your arms. You tried to focus on the limbs but your command was ignored in place of filtering in more blistering pain.
The smell of ammonia was thick, the wet flight suit stuck guiltily to your bitten thighs. You’d pissed yourself at some point, no doubt VI would make fun of you for that as soon as it strapped you into a Medbed. VI.
“Is VI-” You didn't realise how much it hurt to move as Grace yanked you back to your feet- a scream lurching out from your belly as you gagged on the air.
“Tank.” You finally spat out, voice like wood over flame.
Not sure if he heard you, you tried to grab at him to get his attention. Instead your own was stolen away by your fingers in the torchlight. So monstrous you didn't even consider them your own for a moment.
Like a joint of roasted pork the skin had broken open. Clumps of white fat cracked over red flesh, the skin cooked thick and curling away from the joints. Sloughing off in thick sheets down your palm. On reflex you twitched the digits into a fist, they shook closed in response, but you couldn't feel a thing as more blood spewed out from the tears.
“No, no. Don't look” Graces whispered, running a hand up and down your back.
“It's ok-You’re gonna be fine, we’ll get you help.”
He still hadn't looked at you, obscured in your periphery by your twisted helmet.
His eyes swept over the corridor and back to you several times- straining in their sockets as they took you in. Eventually his lips broke over his face in a relieved smile, lowering his gaze to meet yours.
“Hey, Can you tell me where you are?”
“Artemis?” You cough out.
He nods, lips widening for a moment before schooling back down. He eased you forward with him, both your boots hitting the dry floor as the rubber echoed out. The emergency lights blurred against your sore sight, the number 6 glowing over the open door in front of you was spreading out. Taking over your vision as though a great bird extending its wings.
“Good- what's your full name?”
“Amazing, you're doing so well. I just need you to tell me what the date is—or… maybe just your crew designation.”
“Designation: Senior Crewman. Stardate 2489.116.”
Another turn to the left forced him to adjust your weight, a hiss leaving your open lips before he could reply. But he held you steady, his hands shaking beneath your weight as he waited for your eyes to clear past the glaze.
You could feel your head lull backward, a great concrete ball on the springy tissue of your neck. Your vision soiled by black spots that climbed over your retinas, fighting the light between your lashes. Another wave crashes in your ear and the sand returns under your feet, flickering between steel and salt.
“No- Come on, Keep talking to me.”
Grace, right. But your lips were too tight against your mouth to speak. A dryness had settled over your internal cavities, like you were naught more than pockets stuffed with sawdust. Held together by brittle twigs and the sheer force of another's will.
“Please…please keep talking. We’re almost there.”
Where? The doors were closed weren't they- there was an emergency. Yes, VI. You needed to close the tank, but why. It should be open. VI needed it- needed the moisture you were missing.
You couldn't place it properly.
“Thank god” He whispered, “You did it, reader. They’re safe.”
The words emptied whatever was left inside of you, your feet barely sweeping the floor as you floated up. The grip at your side swayed, stripping you of reason as the hall in front of you pulsated, squeezing you out towards its open entrance.
“You need to keep talking ok.”
The emergency sign blinked oddly down at you. The streak of light lifted an arm to wave, as though welcoming you through the open bulkhead door.
Open. That was… wrong. The pneumatic locks were supposed to be holding those closed.
“What.” You choked on the words, coughing out “The doors.”
He paused, letting warm air settle over your oozing skin in stinging attacks. You tried to take a move forward without his support, knees buckling- shooting up your hips and spine as your bones crumbled inside you.
Your hand snagged on a loop of his flightsuit. The bulky fabric caught between your legs, sending the pair of you stumbling forward. Loose air rushed past you as your ass met the captain's chair, your body folding over as it sank down into the soft foam.
“The fucking doors.” You hiss again.
“Yes- You told me how to open them. Kinda. There was the yellow access panel, the valve… I had to bleed the pressure first.”
The guilt was almost more sickening than the pain. He could've gotten himself killed- for you of all people. What were you worth- certainly not his life.
“I told you to turn the radio off.” Your voice was flattened by the gravel in your throat, too hoarse to hold any power.
He shook his head, frown cupped by the hand that came up to his face. Kneading the skin on his jaw.
“Dont you dare, just… don't. You have no right to lecture me, Reader.” He replied, “I knew what I was doing going after you.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry, I guess I don't- because I let my crew die right?” You snapped, your feverish skin slipping over the helmet as you tried to yank it off, smearing more red across the visor.
His hands gently lowered yours, not missing the quiet whines threaded through each exhale. He pulled the helmet from your damp head and looked at you properly. The kind of stare that let the pain retreat for a heartbeat, while your brain screamed at whatever darkened his eyes.
“You think I don't know what you did down there?” He brushed his hands over your hair, taking the unruly strands and pushing them away from the unblemished skin.
“I knew what I was doing. I found where the hatch was. I knew what the pressure meant.” He breathed deeply, his thumb tucking under your chin.
“You saved VI, I saved you. Why is it hard to believe?”
You felt like old cotton under his hand, threadbare and rough. Too easily ripped under the force. Your head swayed, dropping backward and jolting forward as your body struggled to maintain control. Your jaw clicked open but you were unable to release anything but a cry.
“Shoot. We need to get you some painkillers or something- do you have a first aid kit?” His voice was pushed out as the world began to submit to the black cast that shadowed over you.
This time you fought back, throwing yourself forward and out the seat- getting a few crippled steps in. Every fibre and atom ripping apart in your nervous system, convulsing as you slammed yourself into the panel beside the seat. It popped open, shelves deploying their contents over the floor as you fell with them.
“Holy heck. Please, reader, just let me do it. Sit down.”
He caught you before you hit the floor. The impact knocked another shelf loose, more syringes and gauze raining over your shoulders, your scream joining the clatter as they fell in your place.
“Why cant- You need to ask for help. You need help. Just let me.” His words left you shaking, suddenly cold as ice in your moist clothes.
“Kadavr. Green shit in the syringe.” You acquiesce.
He thumbed through the packs left on the few shelves still standing, collecting saline, sterile gauze and dressings as he went. He moved his assortment over to the control panel, letting the surface fill up until he lifted you back into the seat. Strong arms flexing as your weight sagged against him.
“What is it?” He asked, tapping the syringe, bubbles popping as his thumb pressed down on the plunger- shooting some of the liquid out.
“Stimulant. Won't get me back up forever but it'll keep me awake.” You answer honestly.
Grace's eyes widened, his jaw slacking as his hands lowered down. Fingers tightening around the neon syringe.
“You need morphine or an opioid, you should be unconscious.” He pushed.
“Not enough time.” You replied, and you were right.
He must have known it too, because he wouldn't look you in the eye anymore.
With his resolve broken. His soft hands steadied your arm, hesitating slightly as the needle slipped through your boiled flesh and into the vein below. Before his fingers left your skin, the cold fluid got to work, spreading in relieving bursts. Your whole body flushed with the sickly-sweet surge of Kadavr flooding through your system. Rushing in like cleansing waters. It mercifully veiled the bombardment of stinging nerves, the symphony dying down into a shifting static.
“You ok?” He questioned, flashing a torch into your squinting eyes.
“Jesus christ stop-” You reached up to knock it away before making eye contact with your mangled hand again- this time your mind sharpened, zeroing in on the minced white flesh.
“Holy shit I'm gonna throw up.” You gagged.
“I told you not to look at it.” Grace's voice softened, not angry- almost pleading as he took your hands into his own.
He placed them onto the console, you still couldn't feel them. The thought sank into your crowded chest. The only consolation was that the muscles under the flayed skin still obeyed you. Spasmodically responding to your commands- but moving nonetheless.
You'd probably never get full range of motion back. Even if you got VI online now, there was no miracle waiting, it couldn't graft and slice that kind of damage away. The ruined tissue wouldn't simply all grow back. You'd never been that damn lucky. They were gone.
“Im fucked.” You mumble under your breath, not intending for the blonde to hear it.
And for a beat he gave no indication he did, letting the saline spit out from the hooked nozzle, washing away the sticky plasma from your hands. The cold liquid should feel like relief, something.
“Not forever.” His voice began.
“No you don't get it. I'm just scrap for the replicator now- waste.”
“You know I got kicked out of my field once for calling someone that-” He smiled despite himself.
“A staggering waste of carbon- Funny thing was, we ended up working together on the rocket that sent me up here.”
Grace dabbed the saline over your hands without looking up.
“He got to stay on Earth.”
“Where are you going with this?.” You question.
“I know what it's like to think that if you stop holding everything together, everyone dies.”
The pressure of his hands on yours was soothing. Enough to remind you they were still attached.
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Hours had passed since the first reading.
He hated this ship, hated being stuck in its cavity- surrounded not only by the looping beeps of unanswered messages and thermal drop alarms, but the constant chirps of a companion he couldn't bear to look at right now. Not when it was taking most of his energy to keep his fist in his pocket and not through the console.
Rocky was either feigning ignorance, which Simon was well aware he was annoyingly good at- or the stone creature had decided his opinion didn't matter this time. Too busy keeping his tunnel vision focused on the Artemis. Which was good- their people were over there. Considering that, it was perhaps selfish to want the Rock to just sit still and listen for once in his life.
“Rocky, we are not taking the probe over to them, we need to bring it back in and make sure we're correct. End of story.”
“End no story. Probe engineering is good. Reach engine runoff, can reach artemis. Save friends is good- Simon argue why! Question” His foot stomped again, fast and desperate. It made his stomach ache, like he'd intruded on the space around Rocky.
“Im not saying we can't save them, Rocky but we can't send the only data we have on this thing out to space on a whim!”
He took a large step back, forcing his hand deep into his pocket and pressing his fingers into his thigh until the urge to move passed.
“If it goes wrong, they're alone. Really alone this time. Rocky, for Eden's sake please just listen.” He forced his voice back down, not letting the shout escape again.
“No. Simon listen now. Rocky build new probe, Rocky build one hundred if get friends back.”
He couldn't look at him, not when he could hear the pitch in the Eridian's voice hike up to a squeak. The floor was kinder to Simon, letting the grey blur beneath his boots as salty tears gathered in his eyes.
“Im sorry.” For what it was worth he really was, he just hoped Rocky could feel it too.
“We just don't have the resources, the shuttle is down to a single thruster.”
He was, in this moment, as helpful as Ava was in the damn submarine. If the Father saw him now what would he say- be the butcher, tend the tree, at any cost. But the tree no longer existed. And what a disappointment he's turned out to be anyway. Almost dying at the bottom of a blood ocean years away from home, an entire lifetime separated from humanity- covered in its violence.
It didn't matter. He was different now, humans were allowed to change- That was our natural state.
That's exactly what Grace had whispered to Simon the first time he'd found him curled up in the med bay. Tears pooling over and burning the still healing scars on his face. He’d held it close to his heart since- whispering the words at night when it all got too much.
Simon wasn’t the butcher, not today- or any day ever again for that matter. But would that matter if Grace and Reader died because of him.
“And risk Erid?” He asked.
That wasn't the problem, the issue was logistics- something Rocky could ignore on faith if the alternative meant he didnt have to leave his friends behind. Simon didnt want to keep refusing anymore.
“Of course it is” Simon sighed out, shaking his head.
“Rocky knows Simon is scared. Is ok, Rocky is scared too. Statement.”
What could he say to that- not no. Not without admitting to Rocky he was letting fear get the best of him.
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Simon and Rocky my babys, ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა im sorry i have to make them emotioanlly suffer. Its for the plot.
Reader is Alive! Vi is alive- kinda? (was she ever rly to begin with because i know our overbearing AI would hate the concepts biological life being applied to it.) Everyone is alive! Not for long tho- maybe idk haahahahahaha. come back and find out
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