Yeah, I don't have even the remotest explanation for this one. But hey, what better way to dip your toes into writing for a fandom than with the most random pairing your weird little brain can think up? The first few chapters will NOT have any sort of smut, and may even have a bit of plot, but I'm making it M-rated from the get-go. I will denote any chapters with NSFW content.
For the first time in a month Hit heard footsteps that weren't his own. His initial inclination, more an instinct than any conscious thought, was to prepare for a fight to the death. Namely, the trespasser's death. Instead he tossed another branch onto his meager campfire and hoped the interloper wasn't expecting dinner.
"You're a difficult man to track down!" a familiar, and unwelcome, voice said cheerfully.
"Not difficult enough," Hit muttered to himself. He figured the Angel would hear him anyway.
Vados stepped into the flickering circle of light cast by the fire. "I see you've found a perfect place to brood."
"I'm not brooding," Hit replied. "I'm...meditating on my failures."
Vados didn't have to say it; Hit knew his phrasing made it sound even more pathetic.
"Would me saying it wasn't your fault make you feel any better?" Vados asked.
"Just tell me what Champa wants," Hit said. If Vados had sought him out in the wilderness of a ruined moon at the edge of an unpopulated solar system, it likely meant his services were required once again. If he was lucky, the God of Destruction was just interested in another petty pissing contest with Universe 7.
"Champa?" Vados covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a giggle. "Who said anything about Lord Champa?"
"If Champa didn't order you to find me, why are you here?"
"Because my sister asked for a favor," Vados replied.
"Sister? Which one?"
"Marcarita."
"Of the Eleventh Universe." Hit's memory was as sharp as it had ever been in his thousand years of life.
"Exactly! She requested I deliver a message on behalf of someone from her universe."
"No, thanks." Hit rose from his position fireside. "I'm not interested."
Vados gently tapped her staff on the ground. "All I said was that I'd deliver it. Neither of us are under any obligation beyond that."
An image appeared. It reminded Hit of the holograms he received that showed him his next target. A smirk touched his lips. He was pretty sure this wasn't an invitation to kill the figure in the image, but he wouldn't say no if he was asked.
The image buzzed away into a wall of static. Vados sighed. "Looks like there may have been some technical difficulties."
Hit was about to tell Vados to forget it when the image reappeared. Now, instead of being a single still picture, it had sound and movement. Apparently the problem had been resolved.
"-the same as making a video call. Just say whatever you want and my dear sister will relay it." Marcarita's voice came from out of frame.
"Got it. When should I start?" the purple rabbit asked.
"Oh, I've already started recording."
"You can just edit out this part where I look stupid, right?"
Regardless of whether she could or couldn't, she hadn't. Hit watched Dyspo cough a few times to clear his throat, shift from foot to oversized foot, and finally begin speaking. He got a few words in before shaking his head, muttering something to himself, and starting over.
"He should've used note cards," Hit said as the rabbit's struggles continue.
It was like witnessing an awkward, ill-prepped audition. There were a few more false starts, a bit of agitated pacing, a hushed conversation with Marcarita where Dyspo also stepped out of view, and then a return to square one. The agile Pride Trooper took a stance that Hit assumed was supposed to be confident but instead gave the impression someone was holding his family hostage and forcing him to do this.
"Hey, Hit. I'm sure you remember me. Dyspo. From the Tournament of Power. Universe 11. Can I start over? No? Okay, just edit this out, too."
Hit generally wasn't around people enough to experience it, but he supposed this was what second-hand embarrassment felt like. "I think I've seen enough."
"Damn it, this isn't working!" Dyspo groaned. "Are you sure- 'Just act naturally?' Is that the best advice- Fine, one more time."
Dyspo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hit was impressed with the rabbit's lung capacity. The assassin figured it made sense. Dyspo's incredible feats of speed doubtlessly required enormous amounts of oxygen.
"Naturally," Dyspo repeated quietly at the end of the exhale. He opened his eyes and tried again.
"This message is for Hit of Universe 6. It's been a few months since the Tournament but it still feels like yesterday to me. Probably the same for you, huh? The thing is, I'm looking for a training partner. I also wouldn't mind a rematch. One on one, no stakes. If you're interested, hit me up."
Dyspo apparently thought Marcarita had stopped recording. He wiped his brow, chuckled weakly, and dropped to the ground. "Glad that's over. See, that's why they never give me any lines in the Pride Trooper promotional shit. I just stand there and look sexy. Wait. Please tell me you're not still-"
The video finally cut off. Hit stared at the empty space that had moments ago been filled with Dyspo's horror-struck face. The poor bastard. If he'd been nearby, Hit would have offered him a mercy killing free of charge.
Vados' airy laughter interrupted Hit's musing. "My sister's always had such awful timing I've started wondering if it's intentional."
Hit frowned at the idea of an Angel purposefully humiliating someone, even a cocksure pain like Dyspo. Not that there was anything he could do about it. Even if he was suicidal enough to confront an Angel over her actions, Hit doubted Marcarita would debase herself by accepting the challenge of a lowly mortal.
Vados composed herself. "So, what do you think?"
"I think I'll stay away from your sister. I also think we've fulfilled our obligation."
"Anything else?" Vados inquired.
"I'm going to bed."
"Anything else?"
"Dyspo can look somewhere else for a sparring partner. If he didn't crawl off and die of shame."
Hit added another branch to the fire. The wood was dry and burned well. Hardly any smoke. Not that it mattered. Besides himself, Vados, and a few small animals, there was nobody around to see it. Once upon a time, he and his campfire would have drawn curious stares and probably the police but now… Hit sighed and let his mind wander away into the past.
"Since your camp is much more interesting than visiting another universe, why don't you show me your favorite spots?" Vados inquired. When Hit didn't answer, the Angel shrugged and decided to give herself the grand tour.
Five centuries ago, this moon had been part of a thriving civilization. So had the planet the moon orbited. Now swamp rats were the dominant species (at least they had been before Hit showed up) and the remains of the planet hung ghostly and ominous in the night sky.
"I love what you've done with the place. Look at this exquisite hole in the ground! Are you using it as a well or...something else?" Vados decided she wasn't curious enough to investigate closer.
Five centuries ago, Hit had been hired to kill a troublesome politician. A man in the way of progress, an enemy of the people, a roadblock to the future of the empire. Hit didn't care, didn't play politics, didn't take sides or pass judgment.
"It's amazing how a bag of homemade rat jerky can bring a space together." Vados swanned over the bag, which sat upon a stump Hit had repurposed into a table, like it was a magnificent centerpiece.
Four centuries ago, the entire solar system had dissolved into all-out war. Hit wondered, if he followed the threads back far enough, if he'd sealed the fates of billions when he stopped one heart. Well, technically two, the politician's species had a binary vascular system.
"Just imagine what you could do with a few gentle touches. Four walls, a roof, a floor, maybe a bed if you felt brazen. Of course sleeping on the ground and using a log as a pillow have their charms as well."
Or maybe the system had been damned to total annihilation since its inception and the life of one pacifist politician was inconsequential. That kind of question was better posed to those above Hit's pay grade.
Like Vados. Who was still strolling around the camp and making her little comments.
"Here's another fine selling point: it's just a hop, skip, and a jump from the river. Why, it's practically waterfront property."
"Vados."
The Angel turned at the sound of her name. She found Hit kicking dirt onto his campfire.
"I can see you're not going to leave and I'm not going to get any sleep. I think I understand your game, and if I do, I have little choice but to play it. In that case, let's get this over with."
Hit finished extinguishing the fire. He then approached a large, thorny bush that was growing within the confines of his austere camp. With complete disregard for the briars, he stuck an arm into the shrub and went fishing. After a moment he snagged what he was looking for and pulled a simple but sturdy travel bag from the plant.
"The thorns keep the swamp rats out. I tried hanging it in a tree but the rats have learned to climb since the last time I was here. They're much larger, too. Probably the radiation." Hit slung the bag over his shoulder.
"All set?" Vados asked.
"One more thing," Hit replied. He fetched the sack of rat jerky. "With the right spices and smoke, it's nearly edible. Want a piece?"
Hit had never seen an Angel look discomposed before. Vados actually took a step away from the offered meat, as though she was afraid it was going to leap into her mouth. Having his cooking so thoroughly rejected should have either offended or embarrassed Hit, but all he felt was satisfaction. The Angel wasn't so high and mighty in the face of the humble swamp rat.
"No? Maybe Dyspo isn't afraid to try new things." Hit closed the jerky bag and pocketed it. "Let's find out."
Author's Note:
This fic will be published simultaneously on FFN and AO3. Thanks for reading.