hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2003-07-08 03:08 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2003-07-08 03:08 pm
Entry tags:
Warrior Angel Fic
I have this whole universe I made up. I like it.
Warrior Angel (with zero Smallville)
Dead Passengers
Devilicus sped through the dimensional night, his precious cargo weighing him down considerably, but not enough to break the effects of his Invisa-Rocketboots. Take that Warrior Freak.
Making two circuits around Gamma Penn Central before doubling back, just in case, the spandex-clad subverter landed in an alleyway and turned off his boots.
Taking a deep breath, Devilicus removed his helmet and pressed the Simple Sartorial button on his jumpsuit. The color of his garmet changed from an obvious red to the more subdued dark green that Sean Devlin was accustomed to wearing.
Sean hid his helmet in a decoy trashcan and paused at the lip of the alley, looking both ways before striding out of his hiding place with his package. A few short strides, and Sean was climbing into the teleport to his brownstone in the sky. Hefting the package into his other hand, Sean keyed in the entry code and blinked twice, missing the entire trip home.
There was a note from Nigellus on the table detailing what was available for dinner, updating the nefarious plots Devlin Enterprises was currently undertaking, and a brief summary of all the spam that had come through in the mail.
It was a long note.
Sean shook his head, and placed the package down on the table. All the evil he did on a daily basis, and yet he still couldn’t compete with spam. If Warrior Geek wanted to do something right, he should’ve rid the world of spam. That would be a service to society: not bothering Sean all that time.
Unzipping his jumpsuit down to his waist, Sean pulled at his undershirt in annoyance. Despite his climate-controlled jumpsuit, he was still sweating. The weather was so unpredictable these days. He needed a way to control it; he would think up something after dinner.
Gathering up the package from the table, Sean crossed into the main room, the lights turning on automatically in response to his entry through the doorway.
The Portabar gleamed enticingly in the corner, but Sean could have a drink after he’d unwrapped his surprise. Patience had never been one of his strong suits. Callum used to give him so much crap about... not Callum. Not Cal. Right. Warrior Angel. Fuckwit.
The package dropped from Sean’s grasp and made a horrific clunking sound on the floor. He couldn’t believe that he’d brought the damn thing all this way just to break it, whatever it was, now.
Cursing soundly, Sean crouched down and prodded the wrinkled parcel carefully. When it didn’t scream or attack him, he figured it was all right.
Sighing, Sean got to his knees and took a deep breath before ripping the paper off his stolen prize. If Cal - Warrior Angel - had kept it in a safe then it must be worth something, and if he had something worth having then Sean wanted it, too. Except that this... this wasn’t what Sean was after.
He gaped openly when the ovular pod was revealed, and fell back on his ass when three little legs emerged from the pod and it righted itself with several whizzing clinks.
He’d stolen this?
Scooting back several inches, Sean watched in more than a little amazement as the Holo-video sputtered and coughed, the mechanisms inside protesting being re-thrust into the 24th century.
Sean gazed at the white pod stupidly; it couldn’t possibly be the same machine. He got a nasty surprise when the machine’s lens focused on him and sound sprouted from somewhere.
“A long time ago in a galaxy far far away…” There was laughter and static. “Don’t be stupid, that’s like the worst movie ever. “ More laughter and static. “One ring to rule them all, my ass. That would take at least two rings.”
The Holo-video whirled around towards Sean and projected a bright blue light right in his face. He held up his hand against the glare, but the light bled through the spaces between Sean’s fingers, and Callum King’s voice echoed in a room he’d never entered.
“Why the hell would anybody ever make a movie about us, Sean?”
“Hey, I’m a pretty good looking guy.”
“I hate to tell you this, Devlin, but it takes more than looks these days.”
“Yeah, it also takes a big gun.”
“I hope you’re only speaking figuratively.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining last night…”
The Holo-video clanked and the light vanished, releasing Sean from his daze. Scrambling to his feet, Sean backed several yards away from the tripod. It had to be a decoy or a ruse. It couldn’t possibly be the real thing.
The Holo-video gave another whirr, and Sean stepped back, again, crashing into the Portabar.
‘The Egg’ Cal had dubbed. It had been a birthday present in another lifetime. A way to record their life together, Callum had said. The beauty being that they only had to program it once, and then it would follow them anywhere and record anything.
Sean was obviously hallucinating, and this definitely required a drink.
He turned around and grabbed blindly at a phial full of purple liquid. Bourbon Berry. A surefire cure-all, guaranteed to be chock-full of unhealthy things.
Sean downed a good third of the expensive liquor before turning back to the pod, which now stood innocently in the center of his sitting room. He took a second gulp, and then a third, and tossed the empty phial towards his telescreen.
The empty glass made a plinking sound as it broke, and Sean shouted at a clean-up system that hadn’t even sprung into action yet. “Leave it alone!”
From behind Sean the Holo-video sputtered, “Clean up your shit, Cal, I’m not your Digi-Nanny!” and Sean sighed.
Turning his eyes back towards his Trojan horse, Sean crossed the room and kicked at the pod with a booted toe, cursing its Janga-assembled crappiness.
The machine was far more durable than it looked, however, and Sean’s boot was no match for a projector with a 7Lifetimes warrantee. The pain was ridiculous. How such little toes could hurt so much was beyond Sean. He would have to get his boots reinforced immediately. It would never do for his Achilles heel to be his toes.
Shaking his head, Sean crouched down by the Holo-video again and peered carefully at its eyepiece. There was a chip by the lens from when Cal had dropped it in their bedroom. Mierda.
Sean blew softly into the eyepiece, and was still coughing at the dust when the machine began playing again. He fell back onto the floor, and froze at first glance of the hologram that had issued forth.
The groans were perfectly audible, the picture so clear Sean could reach out and lick the sweat on Cal’s naked spine. Callum was panting Sean’s name was though it was the only word he knew, and Sean’s cock twitched in memory of something long dead.
Cal had sworn he had erased this. He had said it was a one-time thing, because amazingly enough, Sean had never been an exhibitionist. The sight of the two of them... making love. Sean might as well have been back there, in the bedroom they had shared, and all those emotions that had burrowed themselves so deep made him choke.
That fucking self-righteous idiot.
They could have had it all. Sean could have given Cal the world. That was all he wanted. What a fucking bitter pill. There were people who would have died to be with Sean Devlin. There were people that had.
Sean kicked at the machine, angrily, and watched as it went flying through the air before it crashed into the wall. The video of Sean fucking Cal projected itself against the Portabar, but the audio skipped to another occasion, and the static broke up the conversation, strangely.
“… Yeah, I heard about Hooisers. Kept meaning to watch it, but basketball without jetpacks seems kind pointless, you know?”
“It’s a good film, man. It’s all about... Fight Club.”
“You are not a special or unique snowflake.”
“On a long enough timeline the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.”
“That’s... fucking movie.”
“Gotta watch that tomorrow, Sean.”
“I’ll agree to anything if it’ll make you shut up and go to sleep, King.”
Christ. All those memories and festering wounds.
The Holo-video projection stalled for several second, and then Sean scrambled to his feet in horror as a scene from the night of Cal’s 22nd birthday played out before his eyes.
Sean had played a set for him at The Molotov. He had researched and practiced for weeks to learn Cal’s favorites old singers: The Rolling Stones, Ryan Adams, strange stuff called rap. He’d re-learned the guitar for El Diablo's sake.
Sean could almost smell the White Whiskey on Cal’s breath as he stared at the projection of them. He could almost feel the soft skin on Cal’s bald head, and his lips against Sean’s ear. “You so love me, Devlin.”
”Shut up, King.” Sean lips moved in time with the hologram.
“Love you too, dumbass.”
“Okay.”
Sean opened his mouth to say something else and the image died. He turned back to the Holo-Video, only to watch it lower itself down to the ground and retract its legs.
He contemplated kicking it again or throwing it out the window, but in the end he just left it there.
Sean would deal with it in the morning, just like everything else.
That's what baggage called for. Even when you thought it was dead.
-finis-
Notes: Thanks to the always lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
obsessedmuch for improv words (pill, key, fester, burrow) and being cute. *Hands Crunchie*
*Sekrit aside to Wendi* The Dizzle said he might be interested in a collaboration with my brother, but I need my partner in crime to set me off, and she’s MIA until next week. Watch this space.
Warrior Angel (with zero Smallville)
Dead Passengers
Devilicus sped through the dimensional night, his precious cargo weighing him down considerably, but not enough to break the effects of his Invisa-Rocketboots. Take that Warrior Freak.
Making two circuits around Gamma Penn Central before doubling back, just in case, the spandex-clad subverter landed in an alleyway and turned off his boots.
Taking a deep breath, Devilicus removed his helmet and pressed the Simple Sartorial button on his jumpsuit. The color of his garmet changed from an obvious red to the more subdued dark green that Sean Devlin was accustomed to wearing.
Sean hid his helmet in a decoy trashcan and paused at the lip of the alley, looking both ways before striding out of his hiding place with his package. A few short strides, and Sean was climbing into the teleport to his brownstone in the sky. Hefting the package into his other hand, Sean keyed in the entry code and blinked twice, missing the entire trip home.
There was a note from Nigellus on the table detailing what was available for dinner, updating the nefarious plots Devlin Enterprises was currently undertaking, and a brief summary of all the spam that had come through in the mail.
It was a long note.
Sean shook his head, and placed the package down on the table. All the evil he did on a daily basis, and yet he still couldn’t compete with spam. If Warrior Geek wanted to do something right, he should’ve rid the world of spam. That would be a service to society: not bothering Sean all that time.
Unzipping his jumpsuit down to his waist, Sean pulled at his undershirt in annoyance. Despite his climate-controlled jumpsuit, he was still sweating. The weather was so unpredictable these days. He needed a way to control it; he would think up something after dinner.
Gathering up the package from the table, Sean crossed into the main room, the lights turning on automatically in response to his entry through the doorway.
The Portabar gleamed enticingly in the corner, but Sean could have a drink after he’d unwrapped his surprise. Patience had never been one of his strong suits. Callum used to give him so much crap about... not Callum. Not Cal. Right. Warrior Angel. Fuckwit.
The package dropped from Sean’s grasp and made a horrific clunking sound on the floor. He couldn’t believe that he’d brought the damn thing all this way just to break it, whatever it was, now.
Cursing soundly, Sean crouched down and prodded the wrinkled parcel carefully. When it didn’t scream or attack him, he figured it was all right.
Sighing, Sean got to his knees and took a deep breath before ripping the paper off his stolen prize. If Cal - Warrior Angel - had kept it in a safe then it must be worth something, and if he had something worth having then Sean wanted it, too. Except that this... this wasn’t what Sean was after.
He gaped openly when the ovular pod was revealed, and fell back on his ass when three little legs emerged from the pod and it righted itself with several whizzing clinks.
He’d stolen this?
Scooting back several inches, Sean watched in more than a little amazement as the Holo-video sputtered and coughed, the mechanisms inside protesting being re-thrust into the 24th century.
Sean gazed at the white pod stupidly; it couldn’t possibly be the same machine. He got a nasty surprise when the machine’s lens focused on him and sound sprouted from somewhere.
“A long time ago in a galaxy far far away…” There was laughter and static. “Don’t be stupid, that’s like the worst movie ever. “ More laughter and static. “One ring to rule them all, my ass. That would take at least two rings.”
The Holo-video whirled around towards Sean and projected a bright blue light right in his face. He held up his hand against the glare, but the light bled through the spaces between Sean’s fingers, and Callum King’s voice echoed in a room he’d never entered.
“Why the hell would anybody ever make a movie about us, Sean?”
“Hey, I’m a pretty good looking guy.”
“I hate to tell you this, Devlin, but it takes more than looks these days.”
“Yeah, it also takes a big gun.”
“I hope you’re only speaking figuratively.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining last night…”
The Holo-video clanked and the light vanished, releasing Sean from his daze. Scrambling to his feet, Sean backed several yards away from the tripod. It had to be a decoy or a ruse. It couldn’t possibly be the real thing.
The Holo-video gave another whirr, and Sean stepped back, again, crashing into the Portabar.
‘The Egg’ Cal had dubbed. It had been a birthday present in another lifetime. A way to record their life together, Callum had said. The beauty being that they only had to program it once, and then it would follow them anywhere and record anything.
Sean was obviously hallucinating, and this definitely required a drink.
He turned around and grabbed blindly at a phial full of purple liquid. Bourbon Berry. A surefire cure-all, guaranteed to be chock-full of unhealthy things.
Sean downed a good third of the expensive liquor before turning back to the pod, which now stood innocently in the center of his sitting room. He took a second gulp, and then a third, and tossed the empty phial towards his telescreen.
The empty glass made a plinking sound as it broke, and Sean shouted at a clean-up system that hadn’t even sprung into action yet. “Leave it alone!”
From behind Sean the Holo-video sputtered, “Clean up your shit, Cal, I’m not your Digi-Nanny!” and Sean sighed.
Turning his eyes back towards his Trojan horse, Sean crossed the room and kicked at the pod with a booted toe, cursing its Janga-assembled crappiness.
The machine was far more durable than it looked, however, and Sean’s boot was no match for a projector with a 7Lifetimes warrantee. The pain was ridiculous. How such little toes could hurt so much was beyond Sean. He would have to get his boots reinforced immediately. It would never do for his Achilles heel to be his toes.
Shaking his head, Sean crouched down by the Holo-video again and peered carefully at its eyepiece. There was a chip by the lens from when Cal had dropped it in their bedroom. Mierda.
Sean blew softly into the eyepiece, and was still coughing at the dust when the machine began playing again. He fell back onto the floor, and froze at first glance of the hologram that had issued forth.
The groans were perfectly audible, the picture so clear Sean could reach out and lick the sweat on Cal’s naked spine. Callum was panting Sean’s name was though it was the only word he knew, and Sean’s cock twitched in memory of something long dead.
Cal had sworn he had erased this. He had said it was a one-time thing, because amazingly enough, Sean had never been an exhibitionist. The sight of the two of them... making love. Sean might as well have been back there, in the bedroom they had shared, and all those emotions that had burrowed themselves so deep made him choke.
That fucking self-righteous idiot.
They could have had it all. Sean could have given Cal the world. That was all he wanted. What a fucking bitter pill. There were people who would have died to be with Sean Devlin. There were people that had.
Sean kicked at the machine, angrily, and watched as it went flying through the air before it crashed into the wall. The video of Sean fucking Cal projected itself against the Portabar, but the audio skipped to another occasion, and the static broke up the conversation, strangely.
“… Yeah, I heard about Hooisers. Kept meaning to watch it, but basketball without jetpacks seems kind pointless, you know?”
“It’s a good film, man. It’s all about... Fight Club.”
“You are not a special or unique snowflake.”
“On a long enough timeline the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.”
“That’s... fucking movie.”
“Gotta watch that tomorrow, Sean.”
“I’ll agree to anything if it’ll make you shut up and go to sleep, King.”
Christ. All those memories and festering wounds.
The Holo-video projection stalled for several second, and then Sean scrambled to his feet in horror as a scene from the night of Cal’s 22nd birthday played out before his eyes.
Sean had played a set for him at The Molotov. He had researched and practiced for weeks to learn Cal’s favorites old singers: The Rolling Stones, Ryan Adams, strange stuff called rap. He’d re-learned the guitar for El Diablo's sake.
Sean could almost smell the White Whiskey on Cal’s breath as he stared at the projection of them. He could almost feel the soft skin on Cal’s bald head, and his lips against Sean’s ear. “You so love me, Devlin.”
”Shut up, King.” Sean lips moved in time with the hologram.
“Love you too, dumbass.”
“Okay.”
Sean opened his mouth to say something else and the image died. He turned back to the Holo-Video, only to watch it lower itself down to the ground and retract its legs.
He contemplated kicking it again or throwing it out the window, but in the end he just left it there.
Sean would deal with it in the morning, just like everything else.
That's what baggage called for. Even when you thought it was dead.
-finis-
Notes: Thanks to the always lovely
obsessedmuch for improv words (pill, key, fester, burrow) and being cute. *Hands Crunchie**Sekrit aside to Wendi* The Dizzle said he might be interested in a collaboration with my brother, but I need my partner in crime to set me off, and she’s MIA until next week. Watch this space.
no subject
Since I haven'actually *cough* watched much of Smallville lately, I'm not up on my Warrior Angel trivia, but this rocks nonetheless. I'm not clear on the lifetime thing though--do they actually have different lifetimes--like reincarnation or something--or is it something like 'oh that happened a lifetime ago'? Maybe I just overlooked that bit. *is sadly clueless about Warrior Angel* And, of course you'd write Sean and not Cal, because, come on, the bad guys are always better.
I loved Sean's desperation and loneliness and ughhh the memories. All the move references kicked major ass and Fight Club is the best movie ever. Have you read the book? Because it's a bit darker, but funnier. Though without the Ed and Brad, which kind of sucks. Anyway, the way it's set up with introspection and description and then snippets of dialogue was great. For some reason, I can never do that.
Okay, am turning off the babble faucet before I drown you with praise. Lovely work and thanks for posting!
no subject
Since I haven'actually *cough* watched much of Smallville lately, I'm not up on my Warrior Angel trivia, but this rocks nonetheless. I'm not clear on the lifetime thing though--do they actually have different lifetimes--like reincarnation or something--or is it something like 'oh that happened a lifetime ago'? Maybe I just overlooked that bit. *is sadly clueless about Warrior Angel* And, of course you'd write Sean and not Cal, because, come on, the bad guys are always better.
No, it's all the same lifetime - although there is cloning happening in this day and age. I think Sean just sees his life before and after the rift as two separate existences, you know?
I loved Sean's desperation and loneliness and ughhh the memories. All the move references kicked major ass and Fight Club is the best movie ever. Have you read the book? Because it's a bit darker, but funnier. Though without the Ed and Brad, which kind of sucks. Anyway, the way it's set up with introspection and description and then snippets of dialogue was great. For some reason, I can never do that.
Okay, am turning off the babble faucet before I drown you with praise. Lovely work and thanks for posting!
Yes, I have read Fight Club and it was just fucking brilliant. And yet, strangely enough, I prefer the movie to the book, which almost never happens. I'm glad you liked this though, thank you!
no subject
no subject
That's the thing, you know? Men! Lex needs to read Warrior Angel fan fiction. *looks shifty for a second. no. back rabid plot bunny!*
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no subject
and.
I. Love. You.
*G*
Seriously, I'm so into this, Zahra. I love how you've set it way in the future, and I'm beyond thrilled with the fact that you're going to continue writing this whole story of Sean and Cal.
Now I'm going to go read your fact sheet that I see you just posted. *hugs and loves all over you* thank you!
no subject
and.
I. Love. You.
*G*
Seriously, I'm so into this, Zahra. I love how you've set it way in the future, and I'm beyond thrilled with the fact that you're going to continue writing this whole story of Sean and Cal.
Now I'm going to go read your fact sheet that I see you just posted. *hugs and loves all over you* thank you!
Awww. Thank you so much. I'm glad you like it so much, it means a lot to me to know that someone else is out there rooting for my boys.
no subject
EEEEE!!!! You so rock.
no subject
EEEEE!!!! You so rock.
LOL. Thank you.