Author's Note: I'm sorry, but I cannot recall who requested this. It's been three years.
Post-Soul of Evil.
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The Last Word
He was like that bug you couldn't get rid of. Ignore its advances? It would crawl up your sleeve. Dust it off? It would bite you on the foot. Spray it way? You would see it days later—all six or eight legs—writhing and scrambling. It wasn't even on its back.
Mandarin just couldn't take no for an answer. He also wouldn't take no way or you're out of your mind or get away from me, you jerk.
Nova knew he was bad before he could say world domination. Antauri said it was a phase; it was a sickness wrought by Mandarin's soulful duty to Shuggazoom and very little personal gratification.
Oh, but Nova knew just how Mandarin got his kicks—the sicko.
All little sheep need a shepherd or they just mull around aimlessly and find themselves ravaged by wild animals. It took years—maybe even decades—for Nova to realize that the hyperforce was crammed into the "sheep" category.
Now, they're ravaged by battle; they're sick and tired. They are the saviors and nobody knows how long they'll uphold the mantle. Maybe peace will come when Chiro is a crippled old man who has been deprived of any semblence of peace.
Nova fights. It's what she is good at; she doesn't need to be nestled up against a computer or jamming up the med bay like a dead corpse. She's needed here; it's where she's always been needed.
Nova, I need y—
Our golden simian doesn't see it. It's one abomination too many.
You're too careless. You get engrossed in one enemy and the next has you on your back. That's a liability and you should change that before you become dead weight. I can't always be there to save your hide.
It's impossible, Nova would scream, as one of the decrepit, formless minions—of all things—of her creator goes to smash her precious head in—unbeknownst to her. Then, just like that, she feels a rough force on her shoulders that drives her into the muck of her last victim.
"Hey!" Reproachful, Nova whips around with a deep frown outlining her displeasure. She sees it.
She sees Mandarin.
This is not proud Mandarin; this is not tyrannical Mandarin; this is defeated Mandarin crippled and broken from a devastating blunt force. Before Nova races forward and scrapes muck onto her large fists, help arrives in the form of Sprx with lines etched too deep into his countenance. SPRX-77, how is it that you can have such sharp wit in the control room, yet you're as blundering and--and childish and emotional as Otto?
"Nova, what—" Both hyperforce members stare at Mandarin's body—good as new if the back of his head wasn't caving in.
For once, the adamant Nova stammers: "S-Sprx, we need to—"
"No . . . ." Mandarin had the last word as his eyes dimmed.
But Nova just couldn't take no for an answer.
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Author's Note: The elusive requester wanted an angsty Mandova that occurred after Mandarin betrayed the hyperforce. This was hard to imagine, as a large percentage of the Mandova fics in this archive are pre-betrayal--and those are enjoyable too.
I think this was supposed to be more of a "they loved each other before, and then he comes back" ordeal, but I have a hard time envisioning a moment when hard-as-nails Nova would lay down her defenses and love Mandarin; heck, it took forever for Sprx to get any definite affection and he could maintain some civility. A purely good Mandarin is beyond my comprehension, as I think episodes like Golden Age and In the Grip of Evil revealed that he caused trouble long before the monkeys even had metal parts. Oh, my poor, dominating, cruel, disappearing wretch.
And Mandova fluff is kinda like . . . wasabi on sauerkraut. I can't write it and digest it; it's my favorite pairing, but I can't envision them looking at each other without a bit of tension. He might have advanced on her, but it probably would have been more of an obsession.