Demifish
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Summary
Though the Nerevarine does not recall their past life, Dagoth Ur remembers. And because Dagoth Ur remembers, the Nerevarine dreams.
Series
- Part 1 of Incalculable Effort
Recent series
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- Words:
- 2,632
- Works:
- 1
- Bookmarks:
- 2
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Summary
Woolsey makes some changes to the medical charter post-Shrine.
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"Heartman told me this place would exist - that it would have to. That there has to be a chiral reflection of our world - a place that's the same but opposite, where everything is flipped, like in a mirror reflection. A place where the dead don't move on, but… different."
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“It’s not a real kid, Chase.”
Chase is technically underage, he’s a year away from being able to drink but the bartender didn’t bother to check his ID. Chase has always looked a little older than he was, it works in his favor now.
Nobody at a hero bar like this would assume he was so young.
“How the fuck do you think that?” Chase asks, spits. His hands still shake with the memory of it. The beer in his hand shakes with the tremors of his hands. “How the fuck do you do it?”
Mechaman sighs, deep, disappointed. He leans back, taking his whiskey with him.
The rest of the Brave Brigade was downstairs, drinking in victory, dancing with the other heroes, celebrating.
“It’s the Astral Pulse.”
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“You look like shit.”
A red gaze sweeps Lucifer from head to hoof and back again, followed by a well-sculpted eyebrow rising pointedly.
“Yes, yes,” Lucifer says from very much not the high ground. “Pot. Kettle. I’m aware. Why do you look like shit?”
Red places his free hand on his chest, fingers spread in gentlemanly offense. “I’m merely winded from all the effort I put into saving the Pentagram from your folly.”
Uh huh. No doubt Red’s a real hero. But first, a point of clarification. “My folly?”
“When you walked straight into the most obvious ambush of all time and were used as the unwitting power source for a doomsday device that nearly killed us all.” Black-tipped ears perk forward. “Ring any bells?”
Oh, fuck him. Also, no, not really. “Well, excuse me for underestimating what you sinners are capable of. None of you have ever managed to hurt me before in all the millennia you’ve tried. I’m not used to ambushes meaning anything.”
“Hence, folly.” Red tilts his head to the side at an inhuman angle, canned laughter swelling in the background. “You’re so good at it!”
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Summary
Standing firm and unaided, John touches his sister's mobile in his pocket. He looks up at the windows of 221b Baker Street and thinks, Oh, what the hell.
He climbs into the cab.