Promethean Blood - ch 1 -
Manga continuity: HyperNotes/V5 continuation fic
Deunan & Bri in a police drama in Olympus - Actiony smiting & swearing ahoy. some cuddles. A lot of shouting. typical appleseed fic (I hope)
All characters and themes are Masamune Shirow. This is just my take on how I wished unfinished-V5 might have gone...
DEUNAN
Deunan came awake with the feeling she'd had a near miss with being crushed. Her ears were ringing, and through her helmet, the world around her refused to come into focus, everything wavering and dark, in the narrow confines of the corridor, the emergency light streaming beams of yellow light as it flickered in it's mount. She felt like she'd just been hit by a car. Her ribs protested violently as she tried to breathe. Deunan heard herself moan as if from far away. Dizzily attempting to rub her aching neck, she blinked, finding her arms trapped by fallen metal beams. A broken off light fixture swayed just beyond where she was pinned, small bubbles rising upwards.
"109! 109!"
"Briareos?" She shook her head slowly, trying to gather her wits, jarred by the sound of her own call code. There'd been an explosion, hadn't there? The ringing in her ears resolved a little, letting her distinguish the emergency klaxon from the internal din, and her partner's frantic calls over both. "Briareos? What happened?"
"Deunan your signal's coming from inside the hull! Get out now!" The urgency in his words kicked her fuzzy thoughts into high gear. She wasn't cross-eyed, she realized abruptly, she was under water. No wonder it was hard to breathe, Deunan immediately curbed her impulse to gasp in fear, knowing she had limited air to work with now that her suit had sealed. Thank god it had, she mused. Or she'd have drowned before coming-to. Able to focus on the heads-up display within her helmet she noticed that it was trying to alert her to the fact that she was below sea level and falling.
"My Garthim's switched into ADM mode! I can't move..." She spoke as she found, testing both arms and legs. Between being pinned by the wreckage around her, and her armor's stubborn stiffness on being at close range to a massive explosion, she could barely breathe properly, never mind move her arms and legs enough to get leverage against the wall. Or was it the floor? There was no way to tell which way was up. The bubbles were moving chaotically as the ship fell through the water, likely rolling along the way.
A clattering noise came to her from the outside of the hull almost distracted her from his next words. "I've found you. Hold on. I'm applying PE based on signal triangulation. It could be close, so hang on to something..."
"Christ." She told herself to remain calm and tried to find something to brace herself against that _wasn't_ the wall her partner was about to blast through in order to get to her. Better him setting the charge than anyone else, Deunan thought morbidly. He had a vested interest in not blowing her to kingdom-come. "Ready when you are, handsome."
"Stand by." He replied pithily, then counted off from three. A roar of compressed gas knocked her about as if she was a doll, first pushing her forward, then back with a ripping vortex of water thanks to the new hole in the side of the ship. Deunan pushed urgently at her prison and felt the piled debris give way, loosened by the shock wave and quick currents. Kicking and shoving, she managed to get herself almost free before help arrived. A giant hand caught her by the shoulder, providing further leverage while a second cybernetic limb easily block several new bits of trash from falling on her as the wreck shuddered around them.
"Not a very classy entrance was it..." She couldn't help but tease him weakly, as she kicked free of the last of the broken pipes and panels and cleared the newly made hole. He kept a guiding hand on her until she was past him and surrounded by clear water.
"Idiot." He chided, clearly not in the mood for jokes. "165 feet and dropping! Does your vest still work?"
Deunan smiled at his preoccupation with her safety, working the releases on her armor that would vent the compressed air and lift her towards the surface to prove to him that she'd be fine. Neither the explosion, or the ensuing rescue had done her armor any critical damage, and the mechanisms all worked as they should. "I'm alright. Thanks to my prince..."
"You surface first," Briareos ducked past her into the still sinking wreck. Not listening for her complements, complaints, or anything else once he'd ascertained her safety, he was gone, working his way deeper into the crumbled hull, doubtless searching for others. Deunan let her armor carry her upwards, confident that she couldn't do him any more good without her her own Hermes-enhanced landmate. Other than the near-miss of being sucked into a hydrojet intake, thanks to some overly zealous coastal police patrol-boats, she made it to the surface without any further drama.
The scramble of officers on the surface was just as chaotic as the sinking wreck below. Deunan made for the first available life-raft, already half full of drenched SWAT officers and heaved herself aboard. There was one opportunistic bastard who tried to cop a feel in getting her into the boat, but the rest of the rescue operation seemed to be proceeding in a reasonably professional manner. Nobody was exactly calm, or happy, to have been handed their asses so handily by a group of no-name terrorists during a routine boarding, but nobody was dead either.
She was inclined to take what she could from the situation. It would be up to the CIS guys with the navy now, to find out what the hell had happened. Knowing that her partner could use the help when it came time for the wrap, she pulled herself together in order to assist with marshaling the confused officers into drawing up an inventory of gear lost in their impromptu swimming session. Luckily it wasn't as bad as she'd first feared, most gear easily recovered from the surface, their own attack boat scorched, but usable in the aftermath. Even with the reasonably good inventory sheet, she was confident that there was going to be some yelling from the maintenance crews later.
The best news so far, that her own exo had been spared by dint of it being on deck when the blast had gone off, was enough to distract her for a moment from the inevitable reaming she would get over the repair-bill from the techs at HQ. Some thoughtful teammate had lifted it onto the rescue boat for her and it stood ready to go when the command came. Barely had she time to do more than lean into her cockpit to check the readouts, when she was obliged to pay attention to the com channels for updates. Fresh reports on their run away terrorists were coming in from all sides, harbor police, SWAT, ESWAT, and satellite surveillance all reporting at the same time about their run-away escape pods, and possible landing vectors for the fleeing suspects.
She cursed and turned instinctively towards her mech, torn between giving chase to their runaways and staying to assist with the last handful of rescues. Briareos resurfaced with a minor eruption of water just off the bow of the ship, depositing three waterlogged looking SWAT officers on deck for their teammates to see to. It was his op, she decided, turning to him as he skirted the ship towards her, as nimble as a pixie, despite his bulk, thanks to the massive Hermes drive coils in his suit. He was the one calling the shots. "So are we going after the b-"
Instead of an answer, she was startled by the feel of his hand sweeping forward to catch her by the back of her head, yanking her towards him as he bent down. For a moment she wasn't sure whether he was clumsily trying to pick her up, or knock her back into the bay. Barely catching herself against his shoulders, she was pleasantly surprised by a swift and crushing kiss. The feel of his tongue was in direct contrast to the cold, and by nature, painfully-hard feel of his chin and nose as they all but knocked heads together with the unexpected gesture. Totally forgetting what she was going to ask him, she flushed brightly at the PDA. And on duty too, no less. Wonders would never cease. He must have been more worried than he'd let on, she mused as she gave him the momentary intimacy he seemed to demand from her.
"You big dummy!" She scolded as he pulled back. It was either that or jump him for 'seconds', with the whole team watching and to hell with professionalism. He _had_ just saved her life, after all. Her big guy deserved _some_ sort of reward. Damned terrorists, she spared a thought for the runaways, resolving to get a kick or two in as just-desserts for the near drowning.
Tasting her mouth as Briareos floated upwards, fully professional once more, calling for her to get suited up to aid in the pursuit, she reappraised the romantic gesture as not worth a repeat after all. Streaming sea-water as he was? She might as well have just kissed a fish.
After surviving the accumulated crap of their morning fiasco, Deunan had to marvel that she could still be surprised at the way their ill luck just didn't let up as the day wore on. She slid back into the driver seat of their surveillance van with an exhausted sigh and rested her head against the padded cushion to get a moments' reprieve. "Just... damn. What is _up_ with today? Would it really kill someone up there to cut us a break? Just one?"
The scent of peaches from the empty tin can rolling around in the back of the van, leftovers from a snack now hours-old, reminded her yet again of her failure in even getting to eat lunch properly. Sure the blueberry danish had been great, but she'd been seriously looking forward to the trendy bakery's peach crepe. Just her luck, that the damned thing would crumble in her hands and spill with out her so much as getting a proper taste. If not for Briareos' probable waspish commentary, she'd have probably just eaten the mess after picking it up off the floor of their borrowed car, carpet lint and all. It'd be _months_ before she'd get the opportunity to get back to the popular shop to buy another. As it was, she'd humored her partner's justifiably bad mood, not to mention expediency, and trashed the sugary mess without so much as licking her fingers, but she was still feeling bitter about the whole thing, petty though it might be.
Not that the jackass of a manager at Preston Coastguard and his 'it is your fault that my stuff got stolen' attitude, and their now escaped potential-stalker, had helped either of their moods any.
The van tipped slightly as Briareos heaved himself in and slid the door shut. Dropping into the seat at the console behind her, he silently yanked one of his com-cables free from the nest at the back of his neck and plugged into the computers, folding his arms and tucking his chin against his chest. She tilted her head, watching the lines of text effortlessly fill the screen as he filed a report on their latest failed attempt at productivity. Not even bothering to dictate aloud for her benefit or offering her the opportunity to add her feedback, he was guiding the keystrokes with nothing more than his thoughts. His barely contained frustration was practically a taste in the air around him, stale and metallic. Then again, it was probably just the stuffy air of the van itself as it had sat baking in the sun at the top of the mall's parking garage. Either way, the uncomfortable atmosphere perfectly matched their shared misery.
Deunan sighed softly to herself, wishing he'd at least bitch out-loud rather than just silently stewing as his mood got progressively worse. If he didn't vent soon, he was bound to give himself an ulcer, she mused grimly. Or worse, lose his shit at something back at HQ that was only peripherally related to their current headaches and get himself chewed out by one of their superiors. That was a scenario that was both likely, and one she'd like to avoid if at all possible.
Slouching lower in her seat, she gunned the ignition and coaxed the AC on, letting the vehicle idle as she waited for his all-clear to go back to the central annex. Their frantic sweep of the mall, and its attached mass transit station had been a 'fun' distraction, but with no stalker-in-hand to show for it, they had functionally just wasted two-hours that the higher-ups would undoubtedly tell them should have been spent in training with their squad. They'd head back soon enough. Not keen to face her inevitable chewing-out any sooner than she had to, she tapped her fingers on the wheel and tried to focus her thoughts on what she'd seen and done since Briareos had first noticed their tail back at Preston's office. Just because he wasn't asking for input didn't let her off the hook in terms of her own personal take on their recent cat-and-mouse game, not to mention the stolen mini-submersibles they'd been searching for in the first place. She'd be just as responsible during debriefing as he was, and didn't have the luxury of his photographic memory.
Had Briareos even bothered to pick up some food from any of the kiosks during their sweep? She retraced their sweep of the mall for the missing cyborg-woman, and while she remembered _thinking_ about grabbing something as she'd run past the various stands, she certainly hadn't actually acted on the impulse. Her own cyborg hadn't even indulged in the canned peaches she'd lifted from the safe house. She couldn't really remember the last time he'd bothered to eat. Not since before their early-morning roll out, she figured. Enhanced digestive-track or not, he had to be starving. That probably wasn't helping his mood either.
Glancing back at him again, she decided that if he wasn't going to mention it, she was hardly going to remind him. Letting him vent about their shitty day was one thing. Volunteering to be the next target for him to aim his thwarted fury at was something else. He'd already scolded her plenty for one day. She wasn't interested in another verbal fencing match with her surly partner. Even if they both knew he didn't mean anything personal by it, the words still had a way of hurting.
The computers beeped plaintively as Briareos unjacked at last, sitting back with a soft noise of annoyance. "You want in on this before I send it?"
"I'll take a look, yeah." She blinked and heaved herself out of the seat to read over his shoulder. It looked as legit as it could, given how little information they had to share. A summary of their interview with the people at Preston for their submersible inquiry, a second summary of the tail they'd picked up, given chase to, then subsequently lost. She had nothing really to add to it. Patting him on his shoulder she slid forward again and belted herself in. "Send it in, tin-man. Nothing more we can do here."
"No kidding." He growled, annoyed, but mostly at himself. "Get us back to HQ. The sooner they start shouting, the sooner they'll stop."
"Or at least that's the theory." Deunan agreed dryly. "I'm almost looking forward to sparing practice today... maybe if I punch the damned bag hard enough, I can trick myself into feeling like I've accomplished something for the day."
His soft snort of cynical agreement as he let her play chauffeur only confirmed his sour mood. He couldn't even be bothered to sit up front and keep her company for the sake of it? She rolled her eyes as she merged into traffic and navigated back to the training center. Twelve-hours of active duty time down, twelve to go. Then eight 'off' then another twenty-four on... and repeating until after the damned Islamic Federation conference? They'd both be basket cases by the end of the constant rotations between active and semi-active duty as the whole team stayed at high-alert for the duration. Just over a week left before the big summit, and the crazies were getting into full-swing in preparation for the political circus descending on the city, nevermind what would likely crop up during the conference itself. Bomb threats, assassination threats, abduction threats, general protests, arms smuggling, tech smuggling, espionage, even petty larceny seemed to have a massive uptick as the international big-wigs all rolled into town.
It reminded her of the _last_ big conference that she'd been 'privileged' enough to work during. Nothing but spies, and rogue diplomats, and that stupid, _stupid_ bowl-cut-wearing-asshole who'd gotten away from her when she was obliged to choose between chasing him or snaring a whole nest of cop-killing-terrorists she'd stumbled on in his wake. Even with months of hindsight in her favor, no amount of yelling from Lance could convince her that she made the 'wrong' choice, per say. But in the privacy of her own thoughts, it still galled her sharply every time she pictured the mystery-man's face. Who he was, how he'd gotten entry into Olympus, what he'd wanted here, and where he'd gone off to after that night, were all questions without answers. Next time she saw him? Deunan was determined to repay him for the humiliation he'd caused her, with interest.
"Hey, watch it. Don't drive angry, woman. This isn't the right day, nor do we have the right wheels, for stunt driving. Whatever it is you're pissed over at the moment, give it a raincheck for later. Ok?"
Briareos' scold brought her back to the present with a jolt, realizing she'd been functionally on 'auto pilot' as she'd steered them down the multi-lane highway. She corrected herself with a curse and checked her instinctive urge to aggressively pass the car ahead of her just because she could. He was right. The last thing they needed today was for her to cause a pileup on top of everything else.
"Got it handled." She agreed grimly. "Any reply yet?"
"Just the usual. 'Check in at training grounds, await further orders' bullshit." He sighed again. "I just-"
"I know." She murmured, feeling his anger mirroring her own. Hell, some sparring would probably do him a world of good too. Provided he could get a chance to really unleash against some inanimate objects. "Believe me."
"This day is only going to get worse." Briareos muttered to himself, resting his elbows on his knees, little more than a disgruntled shadow in the windowless back-half of the van. "I just know it."