Read a worm fic recently, thought I'd write up an idea I'd had for a while but never gotten round to.
-x-
-Hey
-Hey
-Up to anything?
-Just this threat analysis report on the Foresters
-Trying not to make it too hostile
-Yes, I can understand that. Are you busy?
-Not really, why?
threads/general-north-america-brockton-bay-thread.967481/
-I found this, a relative?
-Where did you get this?
A ping came from his computer but Weyland was already out the door, striding across the common room.
Annie looked up as he went by, then back to her phone, her boots up on-
"Off the table!" Weyland growled, ignoring her scowl.
Light flashed across his face as he went on, autumn sun through the deceptively thin panels of the window, out through the Willamette Forest beyond.
Weyland forced himself to slow, to stop as he neared the door. Bear was touchy about etiquette. Normally Weyland would be too but he had to restrain himself from ripping the door open, instead knocking rapidly.
A chime sounded and the latch clicked, Weyland ready for the sound and already entering.
The inside was dark, humid, the rows of plants along the walls swaying to unseen music.
"Weyland." said Bear, his toneless voicebox putting no inflection whatsoever into his voice, but still somehow expressing surprise. "Are you well my friend."
Glowing eyes sat in the corner, six feet from the floor, with the looming black mass behind them almost touching the ceiling.
"I need to see where you got that. It's not some costume or something?" Weyland asked, coming forward to lean over Bear's shoulder, putting on hand on his friend's pelt.
"Another Case Fifty Three mentioned it to me." Bear replied, electronic voice again emotionless.
Bear had a tendency to trawl the PHO for Case 53 announcements, his own experiences having given him a passion for that particular cause. Weyland didn't necessarily think it was… healthy… but he was hardly one to talk.
The picture on Bear's main screen was stark.
Green skin, almost black in the lighting. Two ivory tusks coming up from the lower lip and a massive jaw. A coarse beard hidden by a mail coif, and a tall helm to crown the doom.
Weyland looked into the picture's eyes. They were dark, shadowed by the armour and the heavy brows. It was terrifying, and it showed on Weyland's face.
"Are you alright?"
Weyland loosened his grip on Bear's pelt. He knew his friend couldn't feel it, the fur was too thick, but that barely crossed his mind.
"There's more."
Weyland's head turned slowly… "More? How many?"
Tabs changed and Bear's vision controlled cursor sped across the screens, clicking once and again, bringing up a thread. There was no mouse or keyboard, Bear was too large for anything and his gear was already sufficient for it.
Terror scrolled across the screen, the Tusked One, Wolf Warriors, an Ashen Sorcerer, and worst was the banner.
It was a double-bitted axe, edges stained with blood, cruel and keen.
It was a dragon, wings unfurled, gaze of scorn.
It was a standard Weyland had run from once, and now it had come again.
"Where are these from?" he breathed.
Bear's computer pinged, "Brockton Bay, it's a small-"
"I know." Weyland interrupted, already clicking on his phone, the call going through almost immediately.
His heart thundered in his chest as the roar of a motorcycle filled his ear.
"Collin, we need to talk."