KiCK iT UP A NOTCH

What's the point of less when there's more? Have a cigar, a glass of scotch—when opportunity knocks on your door, you let him in and then you settle the score. Life is short, so before it's over, take a chance and think it through. You better kick it up a notch—it's the human thing to do. [Closed RP Blog for Rocket HQ Tales]

[shadowedsapphire]

Seeking Truth// Archer Sapphire

[workaholic-anonymous]

shadowedsapphire:

Sapphire leaned against the door frame as Archer opened it, doing her best not to just sag to the floor as her leverage against the door dissapeared. Her hand throbs once with an icy sting and she flinches, but raises her head to look at the older man.

Arceus, did everything just hurt. Breathing was taking so much effort, and she didn’t know how she was keeping from retching again. Sapphire looked up at Archer, her eyes wild and distraught. “–What– what do you know?” She shakily brought up her glowing hand and fisted it into the admins shirt, her entire body trembling with the effort of not just collapsing onto him. Her voice was a raspy, angry thing when she choked more words out. “Of course I– I have questions, I don’t– I don’t–” 

Her sentence tapered off, acrid bile rising in her throat and she gave up all pretenses of being okay, dropping to the ground and gagging off to the side. A small trickle of blood mixed with the saliva that she hocked to the floor, her whole body trembling under the strain of coming off of whatever she had been shot up with. Fentanyl her brain supplied, that’s what the doctor had said– so much of it in her blood he was surprised she as still breathing and coherent.

She couldn’t even raise her head to look at Archer as she whispered out her next plea, “Please, I don’t– I don;t know what’s safe anymore, but I need… I need help.”

She looked like she was in pain. Archer’s brow furrowed as he really stopped to consider what sort of state she was in, and it wasn’t a good one by any means. But she’s here. And she asks her questions. What does he know? He knows she looks like she needs to sit down. He’s about to herd her inside when she grabs his shirt and continues her line of thought, and it doesn’t take a genius to tell she’s upset. Frankly, Archer is just relieved she’s come to see any sort of reason, and he’s about to say as much when she turned and gagged up blood.

Well, that was a little more than Archer had been expecting. Eyes widening in alarm, he reached out to take her by the arm and pull her into his office, where he shut the door behind them and sat her down on the cot in the back corner. “It’s alright,” he says as he fetches the tissues from his desk to wipe at the corners of her mouth with, “you’re here, this was a good first step. I’m safe. I can help.” Briefly, he feels her forehead—she was burning up—and then quickly dives into his minifridge to find a bottled water for her to drink and the coldest thing he could to press to her forehead.

“Here,” he continued, “this should do for now. I’ll call for someone to come straight here, alright?” It’s as easy as sending a few texts on his cell, anyways; he’s not sure what to do to help, but he knows she shouldn’t be moving, in her state. “Now. Tell me what you need to know. I can tell you everything. I want to help, Sapphire.”

[shadowedsapphire]

Seeking Truth// Archer Sapphire

[workaholic-anonymous]

shadowedsapphire:

Something was off, something was wrong.

She should have figured it out sooner, been suspicious from the start– nothing was adding up, everything off kilter and she had to find answers. Preferably before her body decided to give out on her, she thought sarcastically, trying to gain her bearings after another round of vomiting. The nausea was constant, the pain ebbing in waves. There were fresh pock marks on her arm, gaps in her memory. She should have known better, what would papa thin–

She heaves.

It’s a dry, aching retch, there is nothing left in her stomach to draw up. Her vision keeps blurring, her chest aches, and Sapphire wonders not for the first time if this will finally kill her. But something, some twitching in the back of her mind -a damp dark cave, gouges in your back, fever that wouldn't break you shouldn't be alive girl, how curious- feels like she has suffered worse. She can’t remember. She can’t remember and it terrifies her. Little bits and pieces have surfaced since Uncle Sycamore brought her to the infirmary, but like any good patient of Petrel’s, she had snuck out once she was feeling slightly better. Which granted, hadn’t lasted very long, and she was possibly regretting this entire idea.

But she has to know–

Archer. He had seen her with Damian and been so angry, had wanted to protect her– he might know something. Hell, he might know everything. She had to get to him, had to ignore the humming in her brain, the strange blue mark that had appeared on her arm- something she had the feeling was entirely unrelated to the drugs she had been slipped for the past few months. She had to find him, had to ignore the pain, just a little longer, just a bit more.

His office had to be around here, she had vague recollections of time spent here, he had said she had stayed with him… maybe her memory was starting to push through. If only it didn’t hurt so damn much it would be more helpful. She limped her way down the hall, unable to remember which room was his. Ha, she had a feeling she’d been in this situation before, could remember the feel of blood on her face, a knife, a note, being left in a heap near a door– that door! 

Sapphire let out a happy wheeze and slowly trudged her way over, feeling white static in the corners of her vision. She had to hold out, she had to find Archer, apologize, figure out what had happened. She made it to the door, basically fell against it and smacked her (holy shit was her hand glowing now?) dominant hand against the door. It was all she had the strength to do before she slumped down, knowing that as soon as the door opened she would topple into the room.

She wondered absently if Archer would appreciate the irony of the whole situation.

Archer had been incredibly, incredibly busy as of late; Rocket was seemingly more active than ever, requiring more and more time and effort of his to be put into varying projects, directing missions, making decisions about things he hadn’t been able to make decisions about in a long time. Even without Giovanni there, it was like something just clicked into place. Like things were getting better. But even though Rocket itself seemed to be progressing, even though they suddenly had more money than they ever had in a long, long time, there was still something worrying at the back of his mind, something Archer always kept looking for in the corner of his eye.

Sapphire. Damian. Tabitha. Drama. Scuffle. Fights. And, of course, signs of Kyogre. Whether or not he believed in the legend’s divinity was moot—she was, in fact, living within one of their grunts, and that made Sapphire’s position one Archer could not ignore. So even though he was busy, far too busy, he never stopped keeping an eye out. And somehow it seems to pay off.

He was in his office that morning keeping a subtle eye on the security camera feeds on his monitor as he scribbled hastily at his never-depleting pile of paperwork when he heard a knock at his office door. With a hefty sigh, he raised himself from his chair, pausing a moment to straighten, back cracking satisfyingly, before he trudged over and yanked the door open, preparing to admonish whoever it was before slamming it in their face—and he stopped cold.

Sapphire. Standing at his door. What? The last time he’d seen her, she had been wrapped around Damian’s little finger, like he’d done something. But here she was. Hope cautiously sat on his features. “Well, now,” he said slowly, “I didn’t expect you to come to me, after our last meeting. Would you....?” He pauses there, his eyes drawn to the glow along her arms, then clears his throat and tries again. “Come inside. I’d expect you have questions for me?”

[iceprinceviktor]

United | Archer & Aya

[iceprinceviktor]

Sometimes they go without contact for weeks, somethings months and this time it had been close to two months. She likes for her work to be precise, the job clean and left without a trace of her being there at all. She ties up her loose ends and makes absolutely certain only the right people know Rocket was there before returning home. She adjusts he gloves at the thought, and then lets her hand drop down to the bag at her side. In it are the files for her report on the entire situation. She’s filled them out neatly and plans on showing them off to Archer by the time he receives his drink.

It doesn’t take her father long to prepare it, and when its settled before him she pulls the folder out from its secured position and places it gently down before him. She slides it over, takes another sip of her drink and smiles patiently at him. Her mission was a simply one, a cleanup job for a traitor who thought he could sell information on them to the police. She had silenced him before he had and had made sure to submit falsified information to the police instead in his place.  “Oh I think this is longer than a forty-five minute conversation, Archer.” She taps the folder with her index finger, lets it sit a moment before her eyes light up. “A success, of course if not a little tedious. You know how I am with the cops.” She pulls her hand back and lets it find her glass again so she can nurse at it. 

“And what about you? Still hard at work I see? All work and no play makes for a dull boy, you know.” 

[workaholic-anonymous]

It’s not odd for her to have been gone for months at a time, especially considering the scope of the mission. Archer expects nothing less than perfection from Aya’s work, and when she sets the folder in front of him he knows it can only be good news—it always is with her, and Archer’s always impressed. Even when she speaks, gloats, it’s not ego, it’s fact, and Archer’s smile broadens into a satisfied smirk.

“Exactly  as I expected,” he told her, “but then, you always had a certain flair for this line of work, didn’t you?” He flips it open and browses the contents as he sips at his drink, and deciding to go over the details with a fine-toothed comb once he returned to his office, snapped it shut to place his attention on Aya; he did, after all, promise her forty-five minutes—or apparently more, if she had anything to say about it.

“As always,” he chuckled, “an executive’s work is never done, I’m afraid. every day there’s a new stack and I am... always behind.” He shook his head in exasperation and took another, larger sip of the drink, as he tended to when Rocket got too overwhelming (which, of course, it always did.) “Am I really dull?” he said after a minute, “if you want to play, I’ll play, you know. But it will have to be after shift. Just because you’ve gotten your work done doesn’t mean the rest of us haven’t. I envy you, truly.”

He bit his lip, fiddled with the glass, and finally glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, taking in her form before pursing his lips. “You’ve got a few more missions piled in your inbox, but it’s nothing that needs to be done right away So then, will you... be back for a while?”

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

Damian was quick to pop up after Archer was thrown off of him, wheezing in pain as he did. Sapphire was shaking, tears streaming down her face as confusion marred her features. He was quick to wrap his good arm around her shoulders, tugging her close to him both to control her and to use her as an effective shield against anything Archer might try.

Sapphire, for her part, was horribly confused. Nothing was adding up, nothing made sense. This man– Archer, seemed so adamant that Damian was the bad guy, but he wasn’t– right? The muted screaming in her head wasn’t helping, everything hurt. Her body was trembling, both from emotional and physical exertion, nausea made her head swim. Damian looked her over, keeping an eye on Archer as he did. When he saw him reach towards his belt for his pokeballs, he yelled;

“Zion! Hold him!” The Gardevoir was quick to obey, using her psychic abilities to hold the man master had commanded her to keep still. Sapphire stared blankly ahead, still not sure what to do in this situation, confusion, frustration, fear all leaking in her head. She didn’t have much time to think, before Damian stood up with a hiss of pain, pulling her up with him. She looked up at Damian, who was grimacing in Archer’s direction. 

“We need to get out of here, Zion can teleport us, but you need to stay close. She can’t do both at the same time.” Damian raised his voice to be better heard by Archer, “Better luck next time, asshole!”

[workaholic-anonymous]

He was touching her. He was touching her, holding her like they were allies, like he cared, and Archer was disgusted, more than disgusted. He had enough. This was enough. It was time to end it. He was about to toss his ariados’ pokeball up and let her out to handle the situation when suddenly Damian shouted for Zion, and all of a sudden Archer felt pressure and his body froze on him, incapable of moving even the slightest inch.

The pressure consumed him, forced itself into his throat and lungs, and breathing was harder than it had been, and in that moment Archer kicked himself mentally for not having his houndoom out, for not having any of his dark-types out, mourning the fact that humans couldn’t be dark type, because if he was, if he had been, if Coyote or Knightro had been out but they weren’t, and she was with him—this was the worst thing that could possibly happen the absolute worst.

“N-n-no,” he managed out, even through Zion’s psychic abilities, “n-nooo d-don’t—not—him, not him—Sapphire—”

[iceprinceviktor]

United | Archer & Aya

She returns from a mission and not long after establishes a connection with the executive. 

A time. 

A place.  

She expects him to turn up promptly, to not keep her waiting and most importantly to have his hands free of work.

Heels click along the sturdy and familiar flooring of her father’s bar, leading over to the counter where she sits, back to the door. She doesn’t need to see it and instead raises her chin enough so that she can drape it over the back of her hand as she stations her elbow firmly on counter top. It doesn’t take long for her father to notice her return and after he serves another customer he makes his way over to her side. 

They converse. The usual. They’re both well, successful and his business is doing better each and every night. He makes her rum and coke as they speak and once served she pauses to take a long needed sip of the beverage. She enjoys the alcohol hitting her tongue, lets it roll down the back of her throat and warm all the way into her stomach. She enjoys it as much as she enjoys talking with her father but a glance towards her watch tells her Archer should be arriving soon. 

“Meeting him?” Her father asks, a knowing look in his eye as she sips from her glass and merely smirks around the rim of it. He knows her too well, knows what she’s up to and as she sets her glass down the ice in it clicks and she hears the approach of familiar footfalls on that wooden floor. 

“You’re on time. Good.” She turns in her seat, blue eyes falling onto the executive’s form before her smile flickers a little. Overworked, planning to return to work when he finishes here. Ah, ah, ah, he should know better by now. She has no intention of letting him go so easily once he sits down. “It’s been awhile, Archer. Tell me you intend to stay longer than thirty minutes?” She nudges a stool out from beneath the bar for him to sit down on, tilts her head to the side towards her father who awaits his order of a drink. On the house, of course. 

[workaholic-anonymous]

It’s been a while since she had left for her mission. Days, weeks, however long it was, Archer always found himself getting antsy over it—not because he was worried, oh no, he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Quite frankly, he was half-convinced if paperwork weren’t an issue, she could be left to her own devices and the organization would still come out ahead where her missions were concerned. But it was still nice to hear from her once in a while.

So when, one day, he receives communication, receives a time and place, a moment of delight passes through him; she’s  back. And it’s time to catch up. From then until it was time to change and leave to meet here, Archer hunches over his desk and does his paperwork with the ferocity of a madman, doing his damndest to free himself up for as long as need be, and it was nearly impossible to scrub the small smile form his face. It’s going to be a good day.

He arrives at the bar on time, dressed casually with his jeans and flannel button-down over a simple tanktop, looking for all the world an average trainer, and has to take a moment to collect himself and calm before he entered. And there she was. Aya sat at the bar counter, back to the door, and Archer took a deep breath before approaching; he’s not surprised when she notices him, turns around to greet him, and he smiles in return before taking the seat she pulled out for him.

“I can maybe take forty-five for you, Miss Aya,” he replied with a chuckle. He nodded politely to her father with the request for a gin and tonic; something simple and low-proof, after all, he still had work to return to. “I’m glad to see you made it back in one piece. I hope your job went well.”

[workaholic-anonymous]

Stone Heart || Monster AU || Aya & Archer

Life wasn’t the easiest as a gargoyle, even for a pen-pushed in the Camarilla towers. Though he was kept mostly out of the way, organizing files, doing paper work, the fact remained that Archer was, mostly, stone—wings and tail aside, being forced to keep inside all day was not one of his most favorite limitations in the world, but he supposed, to some extent, he had it easier than the vampires. He’d take turning to stone over burning to ash in the sun any day.

Still, it was hard to be useful as stone, no matter how resilient it made him, and so Archer had been, not long after the accident that caused his transformation, relegated to simple admin work. It wasn’t so bad—organizing paperwork, maintaining the library, it was rather cathartic, and over time, Archer had added to his knowledge in just the right ways that seemed to make him important to the Camarilla. Maybe that was why he always seemed to feel... on-edge.

This wasn’t the first time he had felt this way; he’d been up all night again, and the morning was beginning to peak through the clouds. The more sun-sensitive monsters that inhabited Camarilla Tower were heading to bed, but Archer had continued on, organizing and filing—and something felt wrong. In fact, it felt like someone was watching him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling; nevertheless, he couldn’t allow it to interfere with his work. Papers and books in hand, Archer headed out the library door, shutting it behind him with his tail, and set off down the darkened corridor towards the filing room, occasionally shooting glances behind him as though expecting to see someone there.

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

Damian just stared up at Archer wide eyed, before turning his head slightly to the side and grinning a feral, savage grin. His eyes glinted as he stared at Archer, mouthing the words, “Just you watch me.” As he turned back to face him fully, fearful mask back in place as he brought his one working arm to scrabble a the hands wrapped around his throat. He certainly knew how to do it convincingly, he had watched Sapphire do the same thing countless times as he had choked her.

“Who’s– the monster… now?” He rasped out, playing the situation up as much as he could. The movement out of the corner of his eye was growing closer, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to grin. Checkmate. 

“STOP!” 

Sapphire had struggled to her feet, stumbled over and made to throw herself against Archer, trying to get the older man off of Damian. She weakly shoved against him, pushing at the arms holding Damian down. Something in her head was screaming that everything was wrong but it hurt to much to think about. “What are you doing, please stop– I don’t understand, why are you doing this?” Sapphire was in tears, both from the pain she was in, and her overwhelming emotions. She just wanted to rest.  

[workaholic-anonymous]

Everything Damian did could only contribute to Archer’s white-hot rage, and as his nemesis mouthed his smug taunts and play-scrabbled at the hands about his neck, mocked the situation with a theatrical rasp of words, Archer could only let out a feral growl and squeeze tightly with every intention of ending him there and then.

That was when she hit him, ran into his side, and Archer was caught off-guard, surprised that Sapphire would throw herself into the fray at him, and wide-eyed he toppled off of Damian and scrambled backwards, fearful that any new attack he made towards Sapphire’s captor would end in her getting accidentally hurt.

“Sapphire, get away from him,” Archer commanded as he backed slowly away from her, hands up in a placating motion, “he’s the one who’s been hurting you, Sapphire, you have to remember! I’m trying to help, I’m trying to save you!” Slowly, he began to reach one hand towards his belt—Archaede, he thought vaguely, the spider would be able to keep Sapphire safely out of the way while he finished up with Damian, it was the best bet, but he still couldn’t risk hurting her, getting Zion involved. Suddenly no decisions seemed like a good decision.

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

Damian growled as blood dripped from his now broken nose, glaring at Archer all the while. He kept his focus as he grappled with the older man, keeping an ear out for the slumped figure on his peripheral. She should be waking up soon, and all she would see would be terrible incriminating for Archer.

Perfect. 

Sweeping Archer had been simple, but he wasn’t prepared for the man to twist, to flip them around and pin him down– Damian let out a string of expletives, he had forgotten that Archer could be fucking vicious if given the opportunity. It happened so fast, Damian almost didn’t feel the pressure on his arm until blinding white pain shot up to his shoulder and he let out an involuntary howl. Son of a bitch. Forearm was broken, that he knew– it wasn’t his first time grappling like this, he would have to train more with Tabitha after this, he had made a stupid, stupid mistake and now it was costing him.

A small flash of movement caught the edges of his pain sparked vision and he shot a brief, wholly sadistic grin at Archer before schooling his features into a mask of agony. His voice was throaty, raspy with pain, only with slight theatricality that Archer would recognize. “I won’t let you hurt her, not again.” 

[workaholic-anonymous]

Archer had some of Damian’s nose-blood on his no-longer-pristine white uniform from the fall, but it didn’t matter, and he barely even noticed; instead he took satisfaction in Damian’s swears and pain, paying no attention to anything around them, not even Sapphire—which he would realize, later, was likely not the best idea. But for now, making Damian suffer was top of his priorities.

He heard Damian’s theatrical bullshit, and that only served to make him angrier, a vicious growl loosing form his throat. “Shut yer whore mouth!” he snarled, “just shut yer fuckin’ whore mouth, ye goddamn LIAR!” His hands sought out Damian’s neck, gripping tightly onto his throat as he began to mentally prepare himself for the aftermath, the fallout. Tabitha was going to hate him. That was okay. Archer was going to put everything right. Tabitha would get over it. And Damian finally, finally would be gone.

“Ye can’t act yer way out of this one,” he hissed, putting enough pressure just to be uncomfortable on his neck, “ye can’t, I’ll fuckin’ kill ye and when she snaps out of it she’ll be thankin’ me cause she ain’t gonna have te worry ‘boutche ever again, ye fuckin’ monster!”

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

Damian stilled a moment as he drew back from impact, the moment of hesitation long enough to give Archer the time needed to grab him. Damian cursed as his wrist was gripped painfully tight, tight enough to break if Archer wanted to, and then he was being dragged forward and stars burst in white hot clarity across his eyes.

The motherfucker had headbutted him! Damian spit curses, drawing his leg out to sweep Archer off his feet, grappling for a good grip on the older man with his free arm as he tried to blink the stars out of his vision. His spotty vision cased him to miss his grip at Archer’s shoulder, throwing him off balance and actually falling into the man. 

Realizing that his fall into Archer was eminent, Damian flicked his wrist to subtly pull one of his knives into the hand that wasn’t being held in a vice grip, readying it for whatever came next. Damn, while he hadn’t been expecting to screw up so quickly, having to improvise in a fight was fun, even when you didn’t have the upper hand.

[workaholic-anonymous]

His head hurt, but damn was it worth it to get the shot in, and Archer lifted his eyes to see the sort of damage he had caused. With any luck Damian’s nose would be bleeding, or at the very least maybe he would get some nasty black eyes, be unable to see for a while yet, and Archer could grab Sapphire and run and—

But he felt Damian’s leg sweep at his feet not a second later, and unprepared, Archer felt himself wobble and fall, but he kept his grip on Damian, aimed to bring him down too as he felt his back hit hard against the cold floor, and he could see a glint of metal as Damian went down, too. Archer wasn’t an idiot; weapon, his mind whispered, and there was only thing to do in such a situation: make sure Damian was incapable of using it.

The instant he had his bearings back, Archer flung one leg around Damian’s back and used the momentum to flip them so he could pin him down, grabbing onto his arm with both hands and squeezing, squeezing, crushing, until he heard the snap and his eyes lit with sadistic satisfaction. “Drop it,” he growled, “drop it, bitch!”

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

Damian lets the punch hit him, maneuvers himself just so the punch will do minimal damage. It’s still enough force to drive him back, throwing him on his ass for a moment before he rights himself and wipes away a trickle of blood form his now busted lip. 

He grins up at Archer form his crouched position on the floor, subtly gesturing to Zion to stay with the girl for now. He’s got this covered, he’s been so bored. Sapphire makes a low moaning noise from her position under Zion, and Damian gives a small chuckle. “Such a nice bruise you’ve given me Archer, it’ll only help reinforce my hold on her now you know. How I saved her from that dangerous man~” Damian gestures dramatically in front of him, sweeping into a cramped bow.

“Let’s add some more bruises shall we? Make the story more believable.” Damian pops up from his crouch on the floor, throwing himself directly at the admin, aiming for his chest with a curled fist. He had always practiced hand-to-hand combat with Tabitha, the brawler always keeping him on his toes, he could only hope Archer put up a fun fight. 

[workaholic-anonymous]

Damian is playing with him—Archer can tell. Even though he, himself, was a little rusty when it came to real fights, he still knew how to throw a damn good punch, and he knows what a proper impact should feel like. It makes him angrier to know that Damian wasn’t taking him seriously.

“Ye damn sunova bitch,” Archer growled, fists clenched tightly and trembling with seething anger, “ye Lugiadamn psychopath, I swear if ye don’t git the fuck away from her right now—” His eyes fell to Zion, and his brain snapped into overdrive, the energy of his anger concentrated into his strategists’ mind. His hands stilled, and Archer was suddenly, eerily calm. Dangerous man, Damian said. Archer could be dangerous.

He could be excruciatingly fucking dangerous when he wanted to be.

Damian said something about bruises, about building his story, and lunged at him; Archer didn’t move. He felt the impact in his chest, felt the wind knocked out of him and saw star erupt painfully before his eyes, but his body moved on its own, and his arm whipped around to snatch Damian’s wrist as he was pulling it back. Squeezing painfully and pressing into his bone with his thumb with the intention to break it, Archer yanked him foreward as he lowered his head to headbutt him.

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

She still shaking, terrified and only in partial control of her breathing, her body. Sapphire rasps out a small, “n-no”, and it seems neither of them notice the figure striding towards them. Damian clicks his tongue, shoving Archer off to the side and shooting the older man a terrible smirk that Sapphire can’t see from her prone position on the ground.

He kneels over her, brushing hair away from her face and shushing her, his whole demeanor changing to fake concern and care. “It’s okay dear heart, you’re going to be fine– calm down and try to breathe okay?” He pulls out Zion’s pokeball and releases her to stand over the two of them, keep Archer from interfering with what he is about to do. Sapphire can only wheeze, her body slumped, but seemingly calmer.

He reaches into his pocket to pull out a capped syringe, salutes it at Archer in a horribly cheeky way before pulling the cap off with his teeth and sliding her sleeve up. Sapphire’s forearm is a mess of needle pricks and tiny bruises, and Damian jabs the needle with uncanny precision before dispensing the milky substance into her arm. “There we go~” Sapphire’s whole body goes limp within seconds, still as the dead. Damian turns to Archer, a maniacal grin on his lips, all pretense of worry and caring gone. “Been a while Archer my buddy. How have you been? It’s just been so quiet around here hasn’t it? ”

[workaholic-anonymous]

There’s a sudden sound and Archer starts, jumps back an easy foot or two, eyes wide and heart pounding. The entire situation is a jumbled mess, he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to help, Sapphire doesn’t even seem to want help and—oh no. Ohhhhhhh, no. Not this asshole.

“Damian,” he snaps, feeling the fire of righteous justice flowing through his veins (the only appropriate course of action at this point would be for him to scream FOR AMERICA and tackle Damian to the ground foot-ball style) but before he’s able to demand just what the uncultured piece of shit had done to the poor girl, Damian kneels next to her, coos sweet words as though he hadn’t been the demon previously in her life, and Archer is disgusted. He is disgusted by the man before him, disgusted not just by his words and actions, no, but by his very being. He shoots her up with something, it has to be some sort of drug, and with that shit-eating grin of his tries to talk to him.

Archer is far passed words. He’s unable to contain himself or his anger for the first time since he was an admin, and with fire in his gut and rage glinting dangerously in his eyes, he bellowed and flung himself at the demon, fist swinging around with every intention of connecting painfully at Damian’s jaw—and hopefully, Archer thought, to break it, to hopefully even snap his fucking neck and leave him finally, finally for dead, right where he belongs.

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

He pulls back from her, but the pain in her chest and stomach is growing, adding to the throbbing in her skull and Sapphire for a moment sees spots in her vision. He keeps talking at her, and she can hear desperation in his tone, but she doesn’t know him, can’t understand he wants to help her.

But he’s talking ill of Damian, and Sapphire doesn’t understand. The fog threatens to crush her, and Sapphire can feel her whole body begin to shake, breathing becoming harder and harder. “No, you’re wrong– Damian, he took me away from… from s-omething awful, he kept– kept me safe fro-om that man, T-tabitha, he wouldn’t–” She has to stop for a moment to try and breathe in, only to wheeze helplessly as a sob tears from her throat. Everything hurts.

Her shaking knees finally give out, and she topples to the floor trying to get her breathing under control as she falls to her side. She wraps her shaking arms around herself, trying to calm down, trying to breathe.

[workaholic-anonymous]

Of course Tabitha was in on it. Of bloody course. Archer was ready to beat them—both of them, Damian and Tabitha—to bloody pulps. But that had to wait. That had to wait until he could get Sapphire to come back with him, until he could make her better.

But then all of a sudden it seems like she can’t breathe and a second later she went down. Archer wants to go to her side, to help her back to her feet, but after how well his last attempt at grabbing her went he was more than a little reluctant to try again.

“Lugia,” he said, “Sapphire—Sapphire how should I—what should I do, how should I help you??” He leans over her, hesitating and unsure. “I—I need to get you to the infirmary, okay? I’m going to try and carry you.” Carefully, he reached out to try and pick her up.

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

His whole demeanor changes and Sapphire is struck with the sudden urge to run. He knows her, but she doesn’t know him, he could hurt her, he might have already done so. The pain in her head is growing, but she can’t stop the shriek of terror as he grabs for her arm and she’s screeching, “No!” trying to move back, only to hit the wall behind her.

The stress of the situation is triggering more side effects of the drug Sapphire doesn’t realize is wreaking havoc on her body, and her gut churns as he manages to get a hold of her arm– right at the injection site. Dozens of little needle pricks and the bruising from them sting as he grabs her, and Sapphire  can feel the fog pressing down on her, unrelenting. “Please no! Stop, please don’t, don’t hurt me I’m sorry, I don’t, who are you , I’m sorry!” 

Her mouth is so dry, and her head hurts and her stomach– she doesn’t know how much longer she can even stand, let alone fight this man off.

[workaholic-anonymous]

So grabbing her wasn’t the best idea. Archer realizes this the instant she starts screaming, and he lets go of her as though he’s been burned. He didn’t mean to scare her, hurt her--hell, Archer’s scared too right now, has no idea what to expect, what they’ve done to the poor girl he was supposed to be trying to protect.

“Sapphire, it’s me,”  he tried again, “Damian isn’t your friend, Sapphire, he’s been hurting you and I have been trying to protect you!” He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through to her, doesn’t know how to jog her memory. He’d promised to keep her safe. He’d promised her.

“Please,” he begged, “please, just come with me, Sapphire, I can help you!”

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

Her head tilted slightly to the side, Sapphire observed the stranger in front of her. She wondered if she did know him, but the unending fog in her mind would refuse to let up. “Damian– he didn’t… he didn’t mention you, do you know him? He took me from.. from something awful, I can’t… remember–”

Sapphire furrowed her brows, trying to think past the heavy fog in her mind. He said he knew her, that she had stayed with him for a time, but she didn’t– Damian had said he had taken her from something terrible, and she could only remember him, so was this man lying?

Her back against the wall, Sapphire felt an awful feeling begin to bubble up in her. Fear. It began to overwhelm the confusion and burning pain in her head, making her knees feel weak and her vision slightly spin. If Damian hadn’t mentioned him to her, he could have been someone who hurt her, she had no way of knowing, Zion wasn’t here– it was overwhelming. It was so much and Sapphire could feel her stomach begin to knot uncomfortably, the way it did when she tried to do too much. 

[workaholic-anonymous]

What had they put in her head?

It strikes Archer far too late. They’ve done something to her. They’ve done something to her mind. He looks into her eyes, her glassy, unfocused eyes, and they’re like mirrors. He should have seen this. He should have known from the instant he saw her. They finally did it. They finally got to her mind. A rage broils beneath his surface. No. This wasn’t right. She was a child. A child.

“Sapphire,” he says, more sharply than he means to, “Sapphire, you’re coming with me. Right now.” Everything is a bad decision, but he can’t stop himself, because she’s scared, so he’s scared, and he knows what they did. They shattered her mind and glued it back together like a children’s toy, like some sick, broken stained glass window and they took her memory. He didn’t know how they did it, only that he knew he should have tried harder, should have stopped Damian sooner.

He reaches out to take her arm because he needs to take here somewhere safe, needs Petrel--Petrel, of all people--to look her over, because as much as Archer hated the man’s guts he knew he was Sapphire’s best hope, and above all, he needs to make sure they can’t get near her again.

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

[shadowedsapphire]

Everything was foggy.

Sapphire let out a soft hum as she made her way towards the labs, hoping she was going the correct direction. It was strange, not having Zion at her shoulder to make sure she didn’t get lost, but the Gardevoir had returned to Damian for something– she didn’t really remember what. Thinking to hard, or too long on things made her head hurt something terribly, so she’d best not dwell.

She had turned a corner when she heard someone call out, and immediately tensed. A man she didn’t recognize came near, but she could feel that screaming knowing in the back of her head, right on the edge of her mind– something that hurt to much to grasp, better left unknown. Maybe she did know him? But Damian hadn’t told her about him, he could be one of the people she couldn’t remember, all she could see in her mind’s eye the scars on her back. People were scary, reading them was hard. Harder when her head was pounding that way it was, nausea creeping up.

But he mentioned Damian, he knew him, maybe he knew her?Her vision crisscrossed for a second as she focused glassy eyes on him. She was so confused, and her head was a throbbing mess of pain, her throat dry and sore as she spoke softly. “I-I’m sorry, I’m afraid we haven’t met– but you know my name? You know Damian?”

[workaholic-anonymous]

Something was wrong. Something was most definitely wrong. If he hadn’t been convinced before, Sapphire looked at him like—like she hadn’t spent weeks sleeping in his apartment and eating his food, and when she spoke, when she said she thought they hadn’t met—was he coercing her? Was this them, somehow? But the biggest source of confusion, the nail in the coffin, she didn’t seem scared. Well, maybe a little nervous of him, but she didn’t seem scared of Damian. Not like she had been before.

Briefly, the images he had seen through her so long ago—the cave, the dream, the reality of the situation, the sheer terror of it all—and he could say with gravid certainty that there was no way anyone could act so calm under threat of their life’s personification of hell. So something was horribly, amazingly wrong.

“Sapphire,” he said carefully, “it’s—it’s me, it’s Archer. I looked after you for a few weeks, don’t you remember?” Slowly, he began inching towards her. She looked so confused. So unfocused. What was going on? “I found you hurt in the hallway, and you stayed with me—Sapphire, I’m a friend. Remember?”

[workaholic-anonymous]

Reviled || Sapphire & Archer

It was nagging at the edges of his mind; Archer hadn’t seen the girl in nearly over a month. The last time he had found Sapphire, she had been beaten, bloody, left in the hallway to bleed out while Damian had gone to do whatever it was dickless heathens did when they weren’t hurting innocent children, and Archer had taken her in, let her stay a while in his apartment where he thought she would be safe. But then one day she just disappeared, and though Archer had looked for her, had people looking for her, it was like she had never even existed in the first place. Something was wrong.

Still, despite his reasonable panic, he couldn’t just drop everything and go looking for her; champion of his homeregion or not, Archer’s duty was to Team Rocket, and he was the only one of the four left in charge--well, there was Petrel, but he didn’t count--and so he had returned to burying himself into his work with orders to a few members of the security team to keep their eyes out for her. So far, for the entire month, there hadn’t been a single inkling of her presence at the base, and a few times Archer contemplated the worst; but no, he would tell himself, if Damian had killed her, Archer would know, either through Tabitha or Damian, himself, as the former was a complete and utter loudmouth and the latter incapable of doing anything without boasting like some some narcissistic jackass.

So when he caught sight of Sapphire wandering the hallways, he was relieved, surprised a bit, but not altogether overwhelmed--definitely, mostly, relief. He approached her quickly, half-forgetting the stack of papers he clutched in one hand, and called out her name. “Sapphire!” He paused as he drew nearer, mouth half-open as he eyed her and her current state of health. She seemed... not altogether too bad? But something was strange. Something felt... off. Marking it up to simple paranoia, he offered the girl a small, worried smile. “You’re okay,” he said finally, “what happened, where were you--was it... Was it him? Damian?”

[shadowedsapphire]

Escape // Drabble

[shadowedsapphire]

Sapphire jolts at the contact, trying to keep from crying out with surprise and fear– but a small whimper escapes anyway. He won’t hurt her he won’t hurt her he won’t hurt her– bur no matter how hard she tries to keep them back, the tears begin to run down her cheeks anew. What a pathetic creature she had become.

“It wasn’t him.” Sapphire knows her voice is shaky, but tries to keep it as steady as she can, looking over to the wall for confirmation. “That’s not– that’s not his handwriting. On the wall. It’s not his.” She debates babbling on, but finds her words are heavy on her tongue. She’s so tired. 

As Archer begins to speak, Sapphire just gives him a confused look before bringing her arm up to show him the wound stitching itself back together, slowly, with a pale blue tint underneath. “No… No I don’t need stitches, I won’t– it’ll fix itself, besides I’ve had…. much worse. You know that now.

[workaholic-anonymous]

He wants to protest when she refuses medical attention, wants to sit her down and take care of her like he’s supposed to be doing, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut. She’s glowing just like last time, says it will fix itself. The doubt in Archer’s mind tries to deny what exactly she’s talking about, but he’s seen it happen before. Grudgingly, he relents and tries not push any further.

Instead, he turns his mind to Sapphire’s confirmation that it is not, in fact, Damian’s handwriting in the blood. Which means... his gardevoir? To get in and out without being seen, must have been—and though Archer had never actually seen a psychic-type write in the blood of an innocent, that didn’t expressly mean anything considering he hated psychic-types with a fiery, burning passion. But if it really was the gardevoir....

“Drapion,” he suddenly said, “there’s one way to fix a problem. Sapphire... what if we were to get you a drapion?” It was, in his mind, the perfect solution—dark to resist psychic, poison to murder fairies in their sleep. And also Damian. Poison to murder Damian. That was another idea. That would probably work.