Lack of Taste

by spicymotte

Summary:

At the Shambali Monastery, it is customary for everyone to lend a hand. Human residents and Omnics work together, and tasks are distributed fairly. Unfortunately, this gives you and Ramattra a headache, because what are you - the monastery's cook - supposed to do with a grumpy Ravager as your kitchen assistant?

* * *

"I am not without my faults." When you catch up with Ramattra, his voice is less cold than before. You feel a little sorry for calling him arrogant - it's not like he chose kitchen duty. And to be honest, he'd probably be better off in the archives! "But I think it's an exaggeration to call me arrogant."

"We all have to work on ourselves a lot," you agree. "And we have to do things we don't like. But let's be honest -" You give him a sideways glance, which he deftly ignores. "Sometimes you think you're better than the rest of us, don't you?"

"I-" At first he seems to miss the soft, playful undertone in your voice, but then he relents. "Like I said, I'm not without my faults."

Chapter 1: Kick-off

 

"Kitchen...duty?" 

A nod in reply. "Indeed."

"I-" Ramattra notices his fans begin to rev up and he has to stifle a sound of disagreement. "Kitchen duty. As you wish, Master Mondatta." He can hear the grating sound in his mechanical voice and it does not escape the monk in front of him. Ramattra remains standing with his head bowed, knowing that Mondatta will say more to him. He knows his master well, but the disciple is even more like an open book for the wise Mondatta. 

"You know my beliefs, dear brother." The visual receptors of the Shambali leader rest on the other monks in the room, all absorbed in silent prayer. "Any service, no matter how small, is worth the effort." 

"Yes, you- already said that." Ramattra senses his own reluctance, a reluctance to do something as menial as kitchen duty. Defiance stirs in his software, against his will. He has to overcome this feeling with an effort that should not be underestimated: It is an act of discipline and strength. Control.

"Wonderful. I hope you enjoy your task." The serenity in Mondatta's voice does not bode well, but the Ravager has no choice; never would he openly disobey the great Master. Mondatta has been brimming with wisdom and patience with the followers of this monastery since their first meeting. The disrespect of refusing to serve the community was not an option, never. Everyone had to do their part, even if it meant helping out in the small kitchen.

It wasn't just the Omnics who lived in the monastery: some humans had taken up residence in some of the rooms, just as much in search of redemption and peace as their mechanical brothers and sisters. But compared to the Omnics, the organic beings need food - a flawed construction in Ramattra's eyes. 
So it was that moderate to large quantities of food were prepared in the small kitchen in the east wing of the monastery, by man and machine together. Many Omnics are fascinated by this activity, some even enjoy it. Zenyatta, for example, was delighted every time he peeled potatoes together with the humans and listened to anecdotes. An almost morbid curiosity, Ramattra thought; why should he be interested in how people kept their bodies alive? Let them do this work on their own, it was none of his business. However, he did not dare to express this resentment, especially not to Mondatta or Zenyatta, who had a strange affection for the people in the monastery. 

'It's meditative work, cooking-,' Ramattra could hear his brother's voice clearly in his head. 'I can see why people enjoy it so much.'

Despite the gentle pep talk in the meditation chamber, Ramattra's programming continued to fight back through defiance, expressed in subliminal error messages of lower priority as he thoughtfully makes his way to the east wing. The soft hissing of his fans echoes off the stone walls, underlining his reluctance to undertake this task in a soft singsong. He would much rather have run errands or dusted the archives, but no, Mondatta had to punish him with something like cooking... Had he perhaps annoyed the master? Did he fail a task he was given and this is the punishment?

Hmm. Not that he knew of. 

"Good morning, brother." An Omnic greets him as he walks and he bows his head in greeting. Maybe he should get a little less lost in his own thoughts, focus on the task in front of him instead. Focus.

The heavy wooden door to the kitchen is closed, but the clatter of pots can be heard behind it. Inwardly, Ramattra prepares himself to be ordered around by a random human for the next few weeks - certainly a good exercise in patience. But perhaps he could find a member of the Order who would swap places with him... Where is Zenyatta when you need him? He would trade his service somewhere in the village without hesitation, no question. Although... helping out in the village isn't exactly one of Ramattra's favorite tasks either.

Why couldn't he just be permanently assigned to the archives? 

---

"Not enough rice... again." There are four sacks of brown rice in front of you, much to your displeasure. The suppliers who provide the monastery with supplies for the human inhabitants are unreliable jerks. They give the omnics a dirty look every time they make a delivery and you quickly shoo them away after payment so that they leave the premises. For better or worse, you will have to talk to Mondatta about moving the deliveries to the village before things escalate one day.

More pressing at this moment, however, is the missing rice. It is your responsibility to make sure there is enough food. It's a task that fills you with pride, but also a lot of worry. How are you supposed to get the missing two sacks? 

"Shit." Well, what now? You can't think of a good solution off the top of your head and you don't want to bother Mondatta with such a trifle. He has much more important things to do than this. But maybe when you see Zenyatta later, he'll know what to do... Or you simply have to bite the bullet and find an emergency solution. 

With a sigh in your throat, you place the black notebook with the inventory notes on the massive wooden table in the middle of the kitchen, where the prepared bowls of vegetables are already waiting. Lunch has to be prepared soon - where was your new kitchen assistant? It was the first Monday of the month, which means that one of the monks will be helping you with your daily chores for the rest of the month. A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirms your suspicions - your new helper is late. It's already a quarter past ten and there's no sign of them anywhere... so you'll have to go looking for them. Great, another thing you have to deal with! As if the incomplete deliveries and hostile villagers weren't enough! 

With a certain, annoyed bounce in your step, you go and open the door to the kitchen - and are promptly stopped by a loud 'clunk' sound. The door barely moves, leaving only a narrow gap of a few centimetres. A deep, extremely annoyed rumble follows the sound of solid wood on metal and you peer into the gap. The door had been stopped by a heavy metal body, much to your discomfort. 

Oh no, not him. 

"Ramattra-," you greet the Omnic, who of all the monks in the monastery goes against your grain the most. "I didn't hear you out there. Can I help you?"

The Ravager seems to snort, his fans chasing a short gust of air into the crack in the door and across your face. Please, you'll take any Omnic for help but him! 

"Master Mondatta instructed me to help you," he replies curtly, but the metallic, deep voice drops an octave - snidely. "Kitchen duty." 

"Oh," Shit, so he really is here to help you out. "Really?"

"Really."

Your lips form a thin line - what could you have done to deserve this? Why couldn't you get someone like Aria or Hoadin? The two Omnics were very talented with the cooking utensils and proved to be a great help, unlike the curmudgeonly, condescending Ramattra. He would probably be no help at all, questioning all your instructions and all in all being a huge pain in the ass. Was there any way to undo all this? Avoid being trapped with him in a small kitchen for weeks?

You heave a sigh of silent distress and he steps back so you can open the door all the way. The unspoken agreement that this arrangement is doomed to fail stands in the room, robbing you of any words. Both of you wonder whether you shouldn't just go to Mondatta and negate this imposed working relationship. Call it off, find a replacement for the Omnic who doesn't even want to be here. But as the two of you remain silent, you realize that Mondatta will only offer words of wisdom in response to such a request. Encouragements to try something new, completely immune to the discomfort that plagues you. 
No, Master Mondatta will certainly not free you from this four-week nightmare. 

"You know, Zenyatta likes to help out in the kitchen," you finally say and Ramattra immediately clears his throat, shifting the weight of his body to the other leg. "Maybe he'd like to-"

"Yes, that is- a plausible idea," he agrees, turning away from you slightly. "I'm sure he wants to help you out. As far as I know, he works in the repair shop this month - my engineering skills make me more suited to that kind of service anyway."

"Yeah, sure, that sounds, uh, logical." Relief eases the tension from your shoulders, hoping that the two monks would simply swap duties. "Just send him to me then and the matter is settled."

The monk nods to you and turns away, with another slightly warm puff of air from his fans. A sigh of relief; the very obvious relief at not having to spend this month in the small kitchen with you - a feeling you share. Spending four weeks with such a disgruntled, withdrawn and sometimes hostile omnic... No thanks. You'd rather work late into the night on your own to get everything done! 

Ramattra disappears around the next corner of the stone corridor with the loud footsteps of his heavy body. Now you can worry about the important things first: Like where the hell you're going to get two big sacks of rice. For better or worse, you'll have to take the little van to the village and be lucky enough that one of the three tiny stores will sell you such a large quantity of rice - certainly at a ridiculously high price. It's no secret that the monastery is not exactly popular with the people in the area. 
Even the human inhabitants are shunned and treated with hostile glances, and even though there hasn't been a physical confrontation for a very long time... The situation is becoming increasingly tense. However, this is down to the humans in the village and not the Omnics; the metal monks have been trying to just live in the monastery and mind their own business from the start. 


Another worry for another day. I should get going.

You click your tongue and grab the small, black notebook, along with your bag, and climb onto a chair near the highest shelf in the kitchen. There is an old clay pot up there, handmade, and the contents are the few savings you have. It's not a lot of money, meant for a trip to visit your sister - but this is more important. The inhabitants of the monastery must have enough to eat and as this is your responsibility, you fall back on your own resources in an emergency.

The main thing is to feed everyone. A full stomach makes everything better.

And, well... at least you don't have to deal with Ramattra!

 

Chapter 2: Wether we like it or not

 

"What?! I'm not paying that price!" Angrily, your hands grab the strap of your bag, trying to find something to hold on to. The hawker shrugs and blows the smoke from his cigarette into the air, indirectly in your face - the message is clear: pay the ridiculously high price for the rice or leave. 

"Your choice," the man replies. His gaze doesn't even touch you, that's how little he thinks of you. "It's not my problem if you don't have anything to eat up there in the monastery, heh." There's a hint of contempt in his voice, which only fuels your anger. Hot flames burn beneath your skin, testing your self-control. This fat, sleazy bastard runs his little shop with a smugness that would make any normal person sour. He hoards rare and expensive food and then charges a fortune for it; you're not the only person in the village who can't stand him. But he is the only one who still has enough rice to feed the people at the monastery for the next two weeks.  

Unfortunately though, there is no good comeback here. No argument to force him to hand over the goods. Shit. 

There's nothing left to do but turn around and walk out of the shop. Hot flames rage in your stomach with every step you take towards the door, and the ringing of the little bell on the door makes you want to throw a stone at his window. 

But you don't. The door closes behind you and the warm sun shines in your face, blinding you for a second. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks and you feel the gaze of an old woman sitting on a faded plastic chair in front of her house, smoking. Her tobacco smells of herbs, reminding you of the smell of incense in a monastery. It smells strangely pleasant, lulling you in and soothing the fire in your stomach a little. 

Take a deep breath. Focus. Control the anger. 

Bloody hell, where are the missing supplies going to come from? Wishful thinking and hoping for the best?!  Negotiating with that jerk of a shopkeeper won't work, and driving to the next town will blow your savings. 
It's not the first time you've had to dip into your piggy bank for food; every few weeks you reach into the little pot on the shelf and each time your savings dwindle a little. But you don't dare tell Mondatta about these conditions, because seriously, if you can't even provide enough food as a cook, what are you even doing here? What are you good for, if you can't even do that? Mondatta and the other monks are working hard to create a real connection between Omnic and human, to explore the depths of their souls - you should be able to rustle up some rice, right?

The small, rusty delivery truck wobbles a little as you close the door behind you and put your hands on the steering wheel. Something inside you wants to scream at the top of your lungs - but instead you rest your forehead on the wheel and sigh heavily. 

Shit. 

A sudden - but very gentle - knock on the driver's window startles you. Heart pounding in your throat, you curse under your breath, then roll down the window. 

"Hi, Zen," you greet the cheerful monk as warmly as possible. "What are you doing here?"

"The repair shop had to close early," he explains with a little more weight in his voice than usual. "We're missing certain spare parts for my brothers and sisters, and they won't be delivered for a few days."

"Oh." That sounds... not good. Not only food is missing, but also mechanical (medical?) help for the Omnic monks. Resources are scarce everywhere. Considering there are many broken and sometimes even attacked Omnics seeking refuge here, it's very disheartening. "That's bad."

"Yes, indeed." As always, Zenyatta sounds relaxed, with a confidence and warmth in his voice that could almost be described as saintly in such circumstances. "What brings you here? Surely there's enough to do in the kitchen?"

"A similar reason, I'm afraid," you admit meekly. "There wasn't enough rice delivered and I tried to find more. Unsuccessfully, mind you." 

The monk makes a sympathetic sound in his metal throat, which for some reason only fuels your anger at your own inadequacy. You really need to get your shit together.

"Get in, I'll give you a ride." With a nod, you invite him to get into the passenger seat. "I was on my way back to the monastery anyway." 

Zenyatta nods happily and gets in, looking with great interest at the little scented tree in the rear-view mirror, which hasn't smelled like a coniferous forest for a long time now anyway. Nobody uses the delivery truck regularly except you, so it could probably be classed as your car; there are chocolate bar wrappers lying around, a few empty water bottles and the bed is in desperate need of a good scrubbing. Suddenly, with this lovely passenger, you feel a little embarrassed by the car's untidy state, so you try to find a topic of conversation as quickly as possible. 

"Um, has Ramattra been to see you yet?" is the first thing that comes to mind. "He came to see you to ask if you wanted to swap jobs this month." 

"Yes, he was in the workshop just half an hour ago," Zenyatta confirms, fastening his seatbelt after looking at yours curiously. "He told me about the idea of 'swapping duties'."

"Oh, good -" Relief floods through you, easing the anger that still boils your intestines. "Because I don't think that-"

"I had to refuse his request." 

"Huh?!" You almost slam on the brakes at the nonchalant way he crushes your budding hope. "What-why?!"

Zenyatta hums thoughtfully, as if he needs to gather the reasons in his head. "Well, I find it rewarding to help out in the repair shop," he says. "And I think meditative work like cooking is good for my brother. I feel he's still struggling a lot with the virtue of patience."

You'd like to bang your head against the steering wheel if the road up to the monastery weren't so steep and rocky; your fate has been sealed for the next four weeks, and the Ravager's draining company now awaits you every day. Just the thought of seeing that metal mask with the red lights at four o'clock in the morning gives you a headache. What are you going to do with such a huge Omnic in your tiny kitchen? Should he sweep the floor or prepare the dough? What the hell are you going to do with him?

"You don't seem very excited." Zenyatta's amused comment brings you back to grim reality. As the van bounces over a disturbingly deep pothole, you swallow hard against the sour taste in your throat. Saying something mean about Ramattra is out of the question, after all he and Zen are very close. Ramattra isn't really a bad Omnic either, it's just that both his impatience and lack of understanding of human traits are... annoying. 

"I don't think he'll fit in well in my kitchen," you finally say, as the great archway of the monastery comes into view. "Physically- and, well, in every other way too." 

A soft, warm chuckle comes from the monk. It doesn't seem plausible to him that you and Ramattra don't get along. Zenyatta really is the epitome of friendliness, he gets along with just about everyone: He's very popular with Omnics and humans alike, and even the snide looks in the village don't bother him. It's like a superpower - that glowing, positive energy he exudes. What would you give for a fraction of that optimism!

"I think you two should give each other a chance," is Zen's final comment. The small van comes to a halt at the entrance to the east wing and you turn off the engine. "Maybe you'll surprise each other?" 

"Yes," you mutter, "Maybe." 

Your eyes are already fixed through the windscreen on the Omnic who seems to be waiting for you at the entrance to the kitchen. The Ravager's figure is huge compared to the cheerful Omnic who has just climbed out of the van and is greeting his brother in a friendly manner. They have a brief conversation, during which Zenyatta bounces up and down on his feet, stretches his legs and is full of sunshine and rainbows as usual.
Ramattra's posture, on the other hand, is very stiff, in full control of every movement of the mechanics in his body. He may be a monk in this beautiful stone monastery, but you can still see the traits of his origins. He moves with such calculated ease that you can still vaguely feel the scars of war on him, the grip of Anubis and the iron taste of human blood. The contrast between the two Omnics reminds you that this monastery is a place of peace and cooperation - perhaps you should give Ramattra a chance. It's one thing to get angry at the villagers for their bad behaviour towards the non-organic monks; you, of all people, should be setting a good example, shouldn't you? 

With a loud clatter, you open the door to the van and get out, your bag and notebook in your arms. A little nervous, you walk over to the two monks and stop in front of the taller one. You have to look up to see Ramattra's face. How are you supposed to fit this guy in your kitchen...?

"Come," you instruct him after clearing your throat. "We have much to do." 

For a long, long second he doesn't answer, but then he glances at Zenyatta and finally nods. There is no way out of this situation, no negotiating with Mondatta or Zenyatta for another task. Just you, Ramattra and the hungry humans of the monastery. 

Somehow the two of you will have to make it work.

Chapter 3: Good company

 

The kitchen seems far too small for the huge Omnic, and for a moment you regret your decision. Working around him all day is already straining your frayed nerves - there's no way this is going to work for weeks. 

"We need some ground rules." Your voice is a little sharper than you intended, but your counterpart doesn't seem to mind too much. 

"I agree. I do not wish to be ordered around." 

"And I don't want you interfering with my work." Between you stands the huge table with the bowls of pre-cut vegetables just crying out to be made into lunch already. Time is of the essence and you don't really have time to think about house rules right now. You can't even think of a really good one off the top of your head! This whole... situation is already doomed to fail, right?

"Okay, listen..." You wash your hands and fire up the small gas stove with the big wok on it. One thing at a time. "Today is not a good day and I'm already behind. We'll talk about it after lunch, okay?" Ramattra doesn't answer, but nods slightly. "Good." You gesture vaguely to the cupboard where the bowls and deep plates are stacked. "Please take 60 bowls to the common room. I need to see to the food."

Again there is no reply, but the sound of his shepherd's crook being placed in the corner can be heard. It is much more important to cook the rice and fry the eggplants. Peel the onions. No time to waste!

 

 

---

 

 

Carrying bowls. Really? This is how you choose to use his impeccable strength and intelligence?

Something in Ramattra rebels against such a trivial task; on the other hand, he no longer has to stand in that stuffy little kitchen. The room really wasn't made for an Omnic of his size, only a few inches separating his head from the ceiling. The next few weeks will probably consist of running errands, which he will accept in silence, just so he does not have to deal with the error message about limited space in his system - it gets annoying when you have to rearrange your system software priorities multiple times a day. 

"Hello, dear brother." Aria suddenly appears beside him, a small Omnic who speaks in a very high and soft voice. Her footsteps are impressively quiet for a being made of metal, so much so that Ramattra is almost startled by her sudden appearance - almost. "Can I help you?"

"Help?" He carries two towers of 30 bowls each in his hands, perfectly balanced and in no danger of falling to the ground. Still, he hands one tower to Aria, who seems happy to help. 

"So, do you like kitchen duty?" she asks as they make their way to the common room. "I think it's fun! I've learnt a lot from our cook."

"It's the first day," Ramattra replies, but he doesn't want to dampen his sister's obvious joy. "But it's... alright, I suppose." 

"You'll see, it's really fun!" Aria assures him again, and when they reach the common room, the two Omnics place the bowls on the table near the wall. There are already drinking cups, a few jugs of fresh water and freshly brewed Duhd Chhia. 

Ramattra glances around the room; he rarely participates in the ritual of eating lunch together. He prefers the silence of solitary meditation while the group of humans and Omnics eat, chat and laugh together. They talk about their past, their hopes for the future and humorous anecdotes. It is not an activity he finds particularly valuable, but what the other inhabitants of the monastery do with their time is none of his business. 

"Brother Ramattra! What a rare pleasure to see you here." K33N walks up to him and pats him warmly on the shoulder, a trait the former fisherman Omnic has learned from the humans. "How come you're seen here at lunchtime, eh? Getting lonely in your room with your meditation ball?"

"No," the Ravager replies seriously, then realises that K33N is... joking. So he changes his tone to something more friendly and tilts his head slightly. "I'm helping out in the kitchen this month and have been assigned to carry the dishes."

"Ooh, kitchen duty! I see, I see..." K33N acts thoughtful, though Ramattra knows full well that he has very high processing power and doesn't really need to think - the fishing bot has apparently picked up a lot of human traits. Mondatta finds it delightful, but Ramattra finds it rather... exhausting. 

"I'm sure the food will be ready soon. I'll help you carry it in then." Aria nods towards the corridor leading back to the east wing. "There are a lot of pots and the iron wok, even a big guy like you can't carry it all." 
She obviously knows her way around, which surprises the Ravager a little. How often has she worked in the small kitchen? Her small stature is certainly an advantage in the confined space, so such work must be easier for her than for him. Why hasn't she been assigned to it, if it suits her so well? 

"Everything is almost ready." One of the humans from the monastery, Yasha, approaches the three Omnics. Several carpets and some cushions have been laid out in the centre of the large hall, baked goods and cups have been spread out in a large circle, and people are already sitting down, talking to each other in anticipation of the meal to come. The Ravager watches the cheerful fellowship, listens to the laughter, and only half realises that K33N is saying goodbye and joining a group of young men who are playing a game of dice to pass the time. 

All these people, humans and - to his surprise - Omnics, are waiting for lunch. Is the food you prepare really that good? Are the dishes so tasty that half the monastery gathers here, even those who don't eat? It's hard to believe! 

"We'll get the food." Aria waves to Ramattra, who also starts to move. As he usually avoids the lunch ritual, he is quite surprised by the joyful gathering of the people of the Shambali Order. Who would have thought that something as mundane as eating would bring humans and Omnic closer together and strengthen the bond between the the people? 

"You don't have to help me," he says as Aria leads the way to the kitchen. His visual receptors linger for a moment on her defective arm, which can only be moved at 20% strength. Aria has been sorted out, she was defective and no longer wanted in her old home, but her cheerful spirit never wavers. "You must..."

"Nonsense, Ramattra," she replies from the front, but doesn't look over her shoulder at him. "You can't carry everything yourself! So stop pretending that you can."

That knocks him down a peg. She knows exactly what to say to put him in his place, politely but firmly. He has fallen into the same trap as so many others: Aria's defect blinds him and makes him feel sorry for the Omnic, who can't be fixed.
Does she even have to be fixed? Does she want to? He's never thought about that before. Hmm. Another thing to meditate on. 

 

"Hello!" Aria throws open the door to the small kitchen and receives a cheerful greeting from you in return. Ramattra follows her inside, where the large wok is already on the table, filled to the brim with some kind of - he's not quite sure - vegetable stir-fry? He detects aubergines, onions, garlic, tomatoes and radishes. An analysis of the smells in the kitchen confirms that you've added ginger, along with chilli, cumin, turmeric, mustard seeds... So this is the famous lunch? Vegetables with dried and crushed plant parts that add flavour and aroma? It's ridiculously banal! 

"That looks so good," says Aria, praising the contents of the wok as she lifts up a huge pot of steaming rice. She uses her disabled arm, which is difficult to move, as a support under the pot in a practised and fluid movement. Unlike him, she has done this dozens of times. 

"You take the wok," she instructs Ramattra, while you are still working on the stove. A second pot of rice sits on the massive table in the middle of the room, a steaming mass whose composition promises energy and satiation. Smaller pots and bowls contain raw green leafy vegetables - lettuce and herbs - as a fresh addition to this hot lunch. All in all, it is a colourful meal that has been prepared with a great deal of effort and work. Ramattra can almost understand why the people in the hall are in such joyful anticipation. For organic beings, this elaborate display of food must be very appealing.
With a loud clatter, the lid is placed on the wok and he lifts it - being a Ravager, of course, he is very strong, but the food weighs more than expected. You pile smaller bowls on top of the lid in his arms, and for a moment Ramattra is annoyed at the situation - packed like a mountain donkey. He is being used like a beast of burden and something inside him resists, with anger and defiance - but Aria's call to follow him gives him the opportunity to resist the temptation of blind anger and frustration. 

"Come on, the people are hungry!" she calls from the corridor. His legs move to follow her, but a glance back confirms that you are not following. You are bent over the table, your eyes fixed on the small black notebook. Whatever's bothering you seems to be eating away at you. 

But that's not his problem, no, his problem is taking this food to the common room and making peace with the fact that this is going to be his daily routine for the next few weeks. 

 

 

Notes:

this fanfic is canon compliant but that doesn't mean I can't just make up cool Omnics OCs

Chapter 4: Something special

Notes:

hmm this fanfic somehow feels more like a character study on Ramattra (which is fun to write tbh. I'm having a great time and I'm glad you enjoy it as well! )

 

"Is everyone here?"

"Yes, it looks like it."

"Good." Yasha rises from her seat and spreads her arms, signalling for everyone present to stop talking and turn towards her. Yasha was one of the first people to arrive at the monastery, not too long after the Shambali monks had chosen the monastery as their home; she is an older woman from the south of India, with long, frizzy hair. Its black colour has already given way to various shades of grey. Though despite her advanced age, she seems so full of life and vigour that no one dares to contradict her - next to Mondatta, she is probably the closest thing the monks have to a spiritual leader. 

Ramattra watches closely as all eyes turn to the woman. He doesn't know the rituals of the meal, but everyone else here is obviously initiated and used to them. The fact that he has been persuaded to join them has suddenly become less awkward. Curiosity is a new priority in his system, along with a certain... expectation? Is being together really so fulfilling?

"I wish you all a good day," Yasha says, her warm smile going around the room as if she were greeting everyone individually. "It's wonderful to see you here today. It's another day to be grateful for the peace of this place and the togetherness it gives us."

There are murmurs of agreement and nods. 

"And we give thanks for the food, once again prepared with great care and effort -- by none other than our hard-working cook." Yasha gestures towards the gate that connects the hall to the corridor. Ramattra's eyes follow the movement of her arm until he sees you leaning against the stone arch. You are not sitting in the circle, but you are still taking part in the meal. The meaning of this action escapes him. 

"And now, dig in!" the older woman laughs, and an approving wave of smiles and chuckles goes round the circle as everyone helps themselves to the food. The food is eaten hungrily, and several conversations begin immediately, buzzing around the room like swarms of bees in a garden. To the left and right of him, where Aria and K33N have taken their seats, there is a happy, boisterous atmosphere. Aria herself is talking to Yasha about the first pumpkin crop, which is about to be harvested; K33N is explaining to one of the monastery's residents how to fish for crabs. 

Amidst all the words and laughter, the shared food and anecdotes, the Ravager feels like... a piece of furniture. Stiff and out of place, in the middle of the room. Alone. He feels alone, surrounded by so many people. 

There is no one here he really knows and appreciates. Zenyatta is not here and Mondatta is missing too. There are obviously more humans here than Omnics, and the thought of having a conversation with them makes him nervous; his processor goes into overdrive as he tries to theorise such a conversation. There are thousands of ways such a conversation could go. So many variables, so much uncertainty and unpredictability. He can't stand people being so impulsive, so inefficient, so overly emotional. They're hard to predict.

"Yasha." Suddenly you're standing behind the older woman, arms crossed, leaning slightly over her seated form. "Sorry, but I need Ramattra in the kitchen. Is that alright?"

"Why are you asking me?" she replies, laughing. The gaze of her warm eyes rests for a moment on the Ravager, who feels a little uncomfortable with this firm, all-penetrating gaze. "Brother Ramattra, you are invited to stay - if you wish."

He takes a second to choose his words, even though he really wants to leave this gathering of chattering, noisy humans and Omnics. Then he stands and bows his head slightly, both in farewell and in thanks for the invitation. 

"I will go about my duties," he says, careful not to sound too ungrateful - lest Master Mondatta think he needs to teach him a lesson in respect and courtesy. He feels patronised enough with this silly kitchen duty and the silent suggestion that he doesn't fraternise enough with the monastery's inhabitants. 

It's enough that he has to deal with you in close proximity. 

 

 

---

 

 

The Ravager's footsteps are much louder than yours, especially on the bare stone floor of the monastery's corridors. They are very heavy footsteps moving an equally heavy metal body. If you listen carefully, you can hear the faint whirring and hissing of the mechanics, but you really have to prick up your ears to not miss this kind of Omnic-heartbeat. In a place like this, full of machines and their organic counterparts, this is not unusual. It's some kind of music, a constant... breathing that you quickly get used to. A pleasant background noise when you spend time with the Omnics. 

But the sounds Ramatra's body makes hide something else; a deep hum somewhere in his chest, and if you had to guess, it's probably the secondary processor the Ravagers carry. The processing capabilities of his model require an almost ridiculous amount of calculating power, and with a single main processor, the advanced learning abilities of his kind wouldn't be possible.

Anyway, it's a feature that only the Ravager series has. It's something you noticed when you first met him, that low humming noise, buried so deep in his chest. A faint memory of what happened during the Crisis, haunting him like a shadow. 

An army of Ravagers roaming the cities, killing everything in their path. Anubis pulling the strings, setting off a chain reaction that still reverberates today. The memories of the Omnic Crisis follow him wherever he goes, even up here in the mountains. Even here, on your way to the little kitchen, you think of the horror and death his kind has brought to the people. When you look at him, you see all the things that have been lost; a home, a family... a whole life, wiped out in an instant. Washed away in the red glow of the lights on the front plates of the Ravager units.

You open the wooden door to the kitchen and wave Ramattra in. 

"The rest of the day's programme:," you announce. "When everyone has finished eating, the dishes will be washed by the others and put back on the tables in the hall. We'll leave them there until dinner is served. Until then, there are a few small jobs to be done."

"I understand." 

You hesitate for a moment, then place the small black notebook on the table between you. You turn to the page with the notes of the current supplies and then push the book closer to your helper. His head tilts almost imperceptibly in a questioning way. Of course, his visual receptors have already scanned the page, but he silently demands an explanation. 

"There's not enough food," you say, crossing your arms over your chest, a shield against the possibility of being blamed for the shortage. "It won't last until the next shipment."

Ramattra makes a low sound in his metallic throat, somewhere between an understanding growl and a thoughtful rumble. "When's the next delivery?"

"The end of next week." 

"Hm. I see the problem. What are you going to do now?"

You sigh and lean against the worktop behind you. That's a damn good question. One you've been trying to answer all day. And the only answer you can come up with is - nothing. You have no idea how you're going to do it.

"I don't know," you admit bitterly. "They won't sell me anything in the village, at least not for a decent price. I can't go to town either, it costs too much money".

"And what do you expect me to do?" Ramattra's voice is sharper than expected, with an underlying coldness that surprises you. "You want me to solve your problems? Is that what you expect from me?" 

It's a strange question, but there's no point in responding to the vague undertone of hostility. Instead, your hands take hold of the book and close it with a smack, causing a few strands of your hair to swirl up and fall gently to rest like feathers on your forehead. Breathe. Don't get angry. 

Control yourself. 

"No," you say finally, looking directly at the Omnic. "I'm telling you this because we have to work as a team here. Cooking for all these people is something very special - something that can only be done as a team. That means you should know that we have few supplies and we have to improvise." 

"Something... special?" He seems to be dwelling on the importance of this job. Why?

"You saw for yourself at dinner today." There's something warm in your voice, an honest desire to explain this sense of togetherness and community to him. Maybe if he understands what this is all about... Maybe then he'll be a little more sociable? "When people come together like this, whether human or Omnic, I think it's something really special. To see how they live together and find each other in this crazy world."
How can you explain that the peaceful coexistence of humans and machines is a very special and unique kind of bond? That Aurora has given birth to so many lives, so many souls, now reaching out and embracing each other, happy to have found kindred spirits? Ramattra has never shown much interest in really getting to know people, as Mondatta or Zenyatta might. Would the Ravager ever understand that there is more to cooking than ingredients? That there is something fulfilling in unity?

"Anyway--" The words are not there. There's no way to explain to him how much it means to you to be here. In this place, in this monastery. With all these souls, so hurt and in search of healing, in search of a purpose in life. Cooking is all you have left. "I need to get more supplies somehow. I just wanted to let you know about the situation, okay?"

He nods. "I... understand."

 

Hmm. Does he though? 

 

 

Chapter 5: A penny for your thoughts

Notes:

currently working on original projects, so updates will be slow, sorry!

 

The gardens of the monastery are an almost magical place. 

A small green sanctuary has been created in the courtyard of the building: Protected by high walls, there are several patches where vegetables and herbs are grown during the warmest months of the year. At this altitude and with the low temperatures - and the not very fertile soil - not many vegetables grow, much to the people's displeasure. Plants such as pumpkins, potatoes and millet grow well, as do cold-hardy herbs such as thyme, sage, lavender and rosemary. The herbs contribute to the health of the monastery's human inhabitants, as well as the work with the plants itself - gardening is good for the soul.

"I dry the herbs for tea or some herb bread," you explain to Ramattra, who is sitting next to you on a small stone bench. The small basket on your lap is full of harvested herbs, which you tie into bundles with string. "You can just hang them up in the kitchen and they will dry by themselves. People need a lot of tea, especially in winter."

He makes a thoughtful sound. "Why?"

"It's easy to catch a cold, especially in a monastery that's made of stone. It's hard to heat." 

"Hm", he hums. "The fact that you humans get sick so easily is a... very inefficient design." 

Well, he's not wrong.

The monastery in the mountains is very cold in winter, and it wouldn't work to heat all the rooms. So only some of the halls are heated by fireplaces, others have special metal bowls filled with hot stones that give off a pleasant warmth. Without the human inhabitants, none of this would be a problem, but the Omnics are kind enough to help all year round to prepare firewood for the winter. What's more, some of the healers, such as Zenyatta, have been very generous with their time and effort. 

This makes you think. Considering that Ramattra has been living here in the monastery for several years, he doesn't seem to know much about people's everyday lives. Has he really only looked after himself all these years, with the sole exception of Zenyatta and Mondatta? 
You can tell from his stiff and forbidding posture that he doesn't know much about people, that he's not interested in his human brothers and sisters at all. But the fact that he has managed to stay away from them for so long is almost impressive. 

Although, even the most stubborn Omnic must eventually succumb to the charms of this community - even an unruly individual like Ramattra. 

 

---

 

He observes the people and the Omnics as they work in the garden. They water the plants, remove the weeds and put the unwanted leaves back on the ground as some kind of... mulch. A quick check of his database confirms that it is advisable - to protect the soil from parasites and cold by covering it lightly. He doesn't have any directories explicitly dedicated to agriculture, but with a quick cross-check he can make the logical connections between the different kinds of organic information on his data storage. 
The work must be hard, especially as it has to be done every day. The potatoes and pumpkins are essential for the monastery's food supply and are preserved in jars for the cold months. Now that he knows about the scarcity of supplies, he can draw more conclusions than before.

That's why you've been so sad all day. Worry can be seen in every of your movements; the slight sigh in the deep breaths and the heavy tension in the shoulders are just the most obvious examples. You take your job very seriously, Ramattra understands that much. A purpose in life in the form of cooking, providing for the community. A very special kind of affection that he doesn't quite understand... yet. 

He understands the importance and benefits of a strong community, but the organic individuals are still a mystery to him. Omnics, his own kind, are so much easier to understand and less prone to error and misjudgement. He prefers solitary meditation to any company, with the possible exception of Master Mondatta or Zenyatta. Two Omnics who understand him, at least to some extent. 

"I have to start preparing dinner." You get up, basket in hand, and don't even wait for him to get up. For a moment, the Ravager feels as if he has to take your hint, that it's an order to follow you - but then he realises that this is just information for him. You tell him what you're going to do next to explain your departure. Is this an attempt to be polite, which is so important to humans? So that he doesn't think you find his company a burden? A good question, to which he has no answer. Well, maybe... maybe he's overthinking this.

So he gets up, picks up the shepherd's crook and follows you. A quiet, strange curiosity creeps into his inner priorities; this rather enlightening day has given him many new impressions and now it is almost time for dinner. He hasn't been able to watch you cook yet, and admittedly he's interested in the process itself. 

 

He follows your footprints, which stand out slightly on the sandy path. The path leads around the monastery, back to the east wing and the kitchen. It is not much used, overgrown with small shrubs and wildflowers that sway gently in the breeze. 

Just as Ramattra sees your body disappear around the next corner, something is working in his processor that he cannot categorise; it is a feeling that he registers but cannot place. No category fits this feeling, no internal directory has a comparable emotional algorithm. This... something resembles a vague memory or a dream in its structure - he can't say exactly what.

It is not pleasant. 

The kitchen door is open and he enters. You are already standing at the large table in the middle, peeling potatoes. A large, dented washbasin is full of potatoes, all of them still to be peeled. Once the dirty peel has been removed, you place them in a huge cooking pot filled with water. He looks at your hands, how skilful you are with the little knife, how neatly you cut off the skin and drop it into a basket under the table. Surely you will use the peel later, or it will go to the compost, in the gardens - as far as he can tell, you are a person who wastes nothing. 

"Here." You take a step aside and offer him to take your place. "You try it."

"Me?" This stupid question just slips out, much to his own astonishment. But he's too surprised to be included in what you consider a sacred process - cooking the food. Ramattra had expected to spend the next four weeks doing unimportant jobs: sweeping the kitchen, running errands or taking out the rubbish. But actively helping to organise and prepare the dinner? That took him by surprise. 

"Come on, the potatoes don't bite." There are notes of encouragement and fun in your voice, and it works, persuading him to comply. As he approaches, you press the small knife into his hand - making it look tiny - and a potato to boot. "Just make sure you don't cut the skin too thick. The less you lose, the better."

"Why not leave the skin on?"

"Because I need it for something else," you reply, turning your attention to the stove. Despite the lack of an explanation, he begins to peel the potato.

It's... not quite as easy as he thought. You make it look so easy, like the skin just comes off. In reality, though, he has to hold the knife at a very specific angle and can't use too much or too little pressure. Ramattra has a sneaking suspicion that this is way easier if you have soft, organic hands.
Fortunately though, his ability to analyse and adapt is extremely well developed, so he quickly finds a good rhythm. It only takes a few minutes for him to get the hang of it and each potato ends up perfectly peeled in the pot. 
At the same time, he keeps a close eye on what you are doing.
 

In a large pan, you heat a few pieces of butter until they form a yellowish liquid. Without letting it come to the boil, you add the flour and immediately begin to stir the mixture into some kind of... dough? Quickly, but not hastily, your hand moves to the side and grabs a pitcher that appears to contain milk. Little by little you add the milk, stirring constantly, until the mixture becomes a thick sauce. 
His hands continue to work on the potatoes, but this process is pushed into the background - his attention is largely focused on your work on the stove.

You turn the heat down to a minimum and add the seasonings - salt and pepper first. Then paprika, cumin, chilli and - sugar? If he had eyebrows, he would pull them together in confusion. Obviously this is supposed to be a savoury dish, not a dessert. Why do you add sugar? 
You chop a bunch of herbs with a big knife; coarsely, but fine enough so that they don't take over and distract from the sauce. They are the next to go into the pan and his receptors are now clearly aware of the smell: a warm aroma is in the kitchen. Heavy and yet very pleasant, reminiscent of herbs and the promise of a good, healthy dinner. It's not surprising that people have a weakness for your food. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

Ramattra pauses in the now well-rehearsed movement of the knife in his hand. This sudden question puzzles him. Why would you ask him such a question, out of the blue? Strange. 

"Why is it important for you to know that?" he asks in return, only to be met with a slight chuckle. Something tells him that you were expecting such an answer from him. "My thoughts are my business, not yours." 

"It's a game I play with Aria or Zenyatta when they help me," you say, looking over your shoulder as your hand continues to stir the pan with the wooden spoon. "Aria usually tells me about the things she's experienced in her life. And Zenyatta... he tells me what he's done and observed during the day. I think he has a soft spot for butterflies." 

For a moment, the Ravager doesn't know what to say. Why should he tell someone what he thinks? Revealing something so intimate is certainly not in his nature.

"I think I'd better keep my thoughts to myself," he finally says. But you don't take too much offence at his rejection of your subtle offer of peace - instead you turn your attention to the small oven, which is also gas-powered. It contains several metal trays of baked fish. You've obviously prepared these in advance - time management is probably just one of your many talents as a chef. But it's only logical if you want to work efficiently. Any Omnic would have done the same. 

The silence that follows feels... good. Ramattra is not someone who tolerates a lot of chatter; he is someone who prefers silence and solitude. Preferably with a meditation orb and nothing but the gentle howling of the wind in the cracks of the monastery. Just him and his thoughts, alone and in a pleasant stasis. Then he can focus all his mental power on his inner self and ask what this life has in store for him. The search seems endless, this bumpy road to salvation and enlightenment. To escape this pain, this scratching sensation inside him, is really all he wants. The scratching hollows him out from the inside, making him slow and dull in a way he never thought possible with Omnics. 
It is a weight that pulls him down and anchors him to this earth, yet he wants to soar, to achieve what Aurora achieved in her time: to find enlightenment and transcend into the Iris. To become one with the universe and escape this terrible growling and scratching in his chest. 

Then he can forget all the things that torture him: the Omnic Crisis, the influence of Anubis, and the bitter reality that the Ravagers exist only to kill.

If he can find enlightenment, perhaps he can finally escape the shadow that has always haunted him. Perhaps he can be... free.

 

 

 

Chapter 6: Hungry fury

Notes:

Sorry for the delay, I'm currently involved in several projects and only have limited time for fanfiction :')

 

The day is coming to an end. 

The dishes are done, dinner is over, and all you have left is a headache. No matter how many times you do the math, there's no way to feed everyone until the end of next week. The pumpkins in the garden will take at least two more weeks to harvest. The rice won't last. The rest of the pickled vegetables won't help much either. 

How can you justify your place in this monastery if you can't feed the people? Everyone in this community has a job, and your job is to get food and cook for the people to the best of your ability. 

There is no other way. You must talk to Mondatta. 

With a defeated sigh, you get up from the table in the kitchen and place the almost untouched cup of tea in the small sink. There are still a few dishes to be washed, but your bad mood puts that off until tomorrow morning. The thought of dirty pots and sticky spoons is a trifle compared to the desperation of hunger that lurks so menacingly in the shadows of the monastery. 

No one knows how strictly you ration food, not even Master Mondatta. Nor does Yasha. The deliveries are meager and sparse each time, but they get smaller each time as well; food is becoming more expensive, and the monastery is not receiving the attention one would hope for such a peaceful institution. Tensions are rising in the surrounding area, and donations to Shambali are almost non-existent. What will happen when the kindness of generous people ceases to exist makes one's stomach turn.

People will have to leave if it comes to that. The gardens cannot feed everyone. Surely some of the people here would look for work. Get a job in the surrounding villages and towns. Even now, some of the human inhabitants go to work, sharing their wages with the Order of the Shambali - but if everyone works all day, without exception, is there any room left for the soul searching, the peace? 

Your path leads you into the chambers of the monastery, where the light, the image of the Aurora can be found. Warm, golden light pours over the Omnics and the people meditating there, united in silent prayer to the first Omnic with a consciousness. It is a thoroughly sacred place, imbued with a sense of perfection and serenity. There is a pleasant vibration in the air, the heartbeat of these stone walls hidden in the depths of the monastery. 

"Master Mondatta." You speak softly to the leader of the Shambali. Your voice is barely above a whisper - you don't want to disturb the meditating souls - and you wait until he turns his attention to you. 

"It is good to see you," he greets you with a quiet warmth that would be balm to any soul. His words are so sincere that it feels like a hug; he's genuinely happy to see you, not just saying it. 

"Do you have a moment?" It makes the question all the harder; the shame of having to tell him you didn't do your job right. "Please."

He nods. "Of course." With a wave of his hand, he invites you to take a few steps away and let those present finish their meditation undisturbed. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Zenyatta and Ramattra sitting together at the back of the gathering, each lost in his own inner world. 

"What can I do for you?" Mondatta catches your eye again and you clear your throat, uncomfortable in your own skin. 

"I just wanted to let you know that... I mean that--" The words fall out of your mouth, the carefully planned and practiced sentences just won't leave your lips. But you have to tell him. "I don't have enough supplies for everyone until the next delivery. I, uhm, just wanted to let you know."

You hunch your shoulders slightly, expecting disappointment from the Shambali leader, a rebuke for your failure. You should have done better, you should have tried harder!

"I understand," Mondatta replies instead. He leans back slightly, just a few millimeters, but it is a gesture of reflection. "Thank you for your openness. I'm sure we'll find a way to take care of everyone."

"I let you down," the thoughts fall from your lips on their own. "I'm sorry."

That, however, seems to surprise him. "Let me down?" asks Mondatta, tilting his head slightly, the way many Omnics do when they're confused. Is that a default setting? Or a remnant of Aurora, who left a bit of herself in each of these Omnics when she awakened them? "Not at all. I know how much care you put into your work. And Yasha told me that your food has become a cornerstone of this community." 

His words are well-intentioned, but they burn painfully in your chest. 

"I have not done my job. I must see that everyone is fed." 

He makes a muffled sound in his chest, accompanied by a slight hiss from his fans. It's probably the closest thing he has to an amused snort. 

"You shoulder this task as if the fate of the world depended on it," he says with a very warm, gentle tone in his voice. "And as if it were your burden alone. But don't worry, we'll find a solution." 

"The merchants in the village won't sell me any goods - only at horrendous prices. And the city is too far away," you explain, waving your hands. "We can't harvest the pumpkins yet. I don't know- I don't know what to do." Words fail, and now that Master Mondatta knows of your failure, you focus on not crying. Bursting into tears in front of the monk would be disastrous, and your ego is unlikely to recover from it. So you bite your tongue and hope that he doesn't hear the crack in your voice. 

"I'll consult with Yasha," he said finally, after another brief moment of reflection. "There's always a solution, so please, do not worry too much."

"Yes." you agree weakly. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. Thank you for your time." With a respectful nod of the head, you leave. The conversation went better than expected - but there's still that hot ball of lead in your stomach. It burns painfully, fueled by the shame of failure and the anger that needs to be directed at someone; that someone is you. 

Failure. Anger. Hunger.

Your stomach growls. The less you eat, the more food is left for the others. Today you had only a piece of dry bread and some freshly cut vegetables, along with tea and half an apple. That's not much, considering the physical demands of cooking for so many people. This hunger only fuels your anger until it finally boils over and causes you to abandon your walk to the kitchen.
 
Instead, your legs carry you upstairs, further and further into the monastery. Up the old stone stairs to the unused chambers. The main building rises high into the sky, then merges with the mountain behind it, becoming one with the landscape. The highest point of this building is the attic chamber, storage, as the monks say. There are clay jugs, wall hangings that need mending - up here, there is nothing but silence and the wind blowing in through the open window arch. Clear thoughts and solitude await you in the attic. A good place to be angry in a monastery full of peaceful monks. 

"Shit!!" With an angry curse, you kick one of the small wooden buckets standing in the corner of the attic away from you; with a loud clatter, the object hits the wall and bounces twice across the floor until it comes to a rolling halt. 

The anger piles up in monstrous waves, collapsing on itself, only to bury your thoughts further beneath it. Those fucking people in the village, with their fucking prejudices against Omnics! The hateful looks, the low murmurs when they talk bad about your friends - you'd like to wipe it from their faces with your fists, that look of secret disgust. With bloody knuckles, you make it clear to them that the monks don't want to hurt anyone, just take their chance for a quiet life. Peace and quiet, that's all they want.

It's what you want, too.

In a moment of angry weakness, tears fall from your cheeks, hot and domineering over your mind. They are not the product of grief, only of the rage that seethes so constantly in your chest; they are fragments of the fire that slowly but surely eats through your ribs. Anger at the loss, at the crisis, and at what this war has wrought.

"You seem angry." The sudden, soft voice behind you stops all the emotions, sudden and unyielding. You wipe the tears from your eyes with your sleeve and turn around. 

"Zenyatta." Of course, you didn't hear him coming - he moves so deftly and quietly that you have to seriously wonder what he did in his former life. Not for the first time, he startles you with his sudden appearance. It is typical of him to sneak up on you at such a vulnerable moment. 

"Forgive my intrusion, but you seemed a little... restless during your conversation with Master Mondatta." Restless, yes. 'suppose you could call it that. 

"I was discussing our supplies with him. Or rather, the lack thereof." You lean against the edge of the window arch and look out into the courtyard of the monastery. The sun has already disappeared behind the mountains, and now night is falling fast, swallowing up the monastery until the first golden light creeps back into the mountain niche at dawn. It's a beautiful spectacle every time, something you can't experience in the cities. 

"Yes, I heard your conversation." Zenyatta steps up beside you, also watching the lighting of the lamps outside the gate. A warm flicker in the cold darkness. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

"We have to." The absence of the sun makes everything cold. So cold that you can see your own breath swirling up in little clouds. "We don't want anyone to starve."

"We won't starve until the next delivery," the gentle Omnic assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We'll ration the supplies a bit, then we'll be sure to have enough."

"That's not the point!" The hot, cutting sound of your voice surprises you so much that you admonish yourself for a second. Calm yourself. Zenyatta is your friend. "Let no one go hungry. That's what it's all about." 

He doesn't answer, letting the silence speak for itself. The absence of words allows the space, the overcoming, to reveal the reason for this desperate clinging to your duties. 

"The refugee home where I stayed after my city was destroyed..." You weigh your words carefully. "It was one of the good shelters, no question. But there wasn't enough food for everyone, and not enough people to look out for the weaker ones. So the stronger kids always took the rations from us." 

Ahh, memories. So neatly separated from everyday life, but always present in the back of your mind. 

"We smaller children could hide some things, but we had to ration very strictly. It was a community of weak people who kept each other alive. It was... I don't know. It was terrible, but we had each other, and--" Zenyatta's gaze lingers on you, you can feel it. He says nothing. "I haven't been a big fan of rationing ever since, you know."

"I understand," he says finally. His metallic voice is a little warmer than usual, soft as a flowing stream washing away the day's exertions. "And I understand your need for companionship and to take care of those around you. A noble task you have set for yourself." 

The 'but' is clearly audible, so you just wait for him to continue. 

"But perhaps you should get used to the idea that we can help you, too. It's never easy to ask for help, and even less to accept it wholeheartedly - but it's worth it." 

"Always such wise words," you sniff, but with a wry smile on your lips. He's right. Is it really so wise to wallow in self-pity and self-flagellation when so many of the residents here would be only too happy to help? Rush to the rescue if you only ask? 

"I have learned a lot from Master Mondatta," Zenyatta admits with amusement. "He is very wise and often knows what is best for the members of the Shambali. For example, he deliberately assigned Ramattra to your kitchen, so you can learn from each other. You two are so much alike!"

"Wait-- what?" What does he mean, assigned?! "Master Mondatta did that on purpose? That's why I'm trapped with that bad-tempered Ravager in a kitchen that's far too small for both of us?" 

"Ah." With a slight cracking sound in his voice box and the embarrassed clearing of his throat, Zenyatta turns away. "I didn't realize you hadn't been told. My apologies, I must  go and--"

"Nuh-uh, I want to know everything!" You grab him by the collar and hold him in place - this interesting turn of events calls for more detailed questions. 

 

 

Chapter 7: Morning riches

Notes:

one more chapter before I have to get back to work related stuff oughhh.... have fun reading! :)

 

"So I questioned Zen about it, and he told me that Mondatta gave you this job on purpose." With a bang, the heavy cleaver slams into the wooden board in front of you, sending pieces of the herbs you were chopping flying through the air. "Just like that! As if we had no say in the matter!"

Ramattra watches your little tantrum as he peels the carrots, sitting in the opposite corner of the kitchen. Even though he's sitting on the floor, he's still so damned tall that he looks very out of place in this room. The fact that he tries to keep as much distance from you as possible underscores that impression as well. 

"I had a... suspicion that he might did this on purpose, yes." he says. "Master Mondatta has a habit of... pulling strings, if you know what I mean." 

"Well-- granted, he can assign someone a task, of course," you grumble, picking up the herbs scattered on the table to finish the job of chopping them. "But to do so because you and I have so much in common? I find that far-fetched." 

"I agree." Ramattra places the next peeled carrot in the pot. "We are very different."

"Totally," you agree without looking up. 

"We come from very different places," he continues. "I know this monastery is a place of community and learning, but -"

"-that doesn't mean we’re all the same," you finish the sentence with a nod of agreement.

"I don't see what we could possibly have in common." You two utter the last sentence simultaneously, word for word - and immediately fall silent, realizing the synchronicity of these vivid complaints. The irony of being so united in your complains about the situation is like a blow to the side, so awkward and painful that a heavy silence falls over the room.

You continue to chop the herbs for the pies, and Ramattra works his way through the vegetables to be peeled in silence. 

He feels... a little uneasy. Why does Master Mondatta think he needs special treatment? He can't remember doing anything wrong that would require such treatment. Assigning him to the kitchen seems like a bad joke when you think about it: Such a big Ravager, in such a pathetic little kitchen, with a cook who hacks away at the chopping board like a lumberjack a tree. His talents are misplaced here; he would be a far greater help in just about any other job. 

Is this perhaps the reason why Mondatta has given him this task? Is it to broaden his horizons? Can he even do that here? Just thinking about it raises the temperature in his CPU by a few degrees. 

"Oh dear, so late already..."

At your words he looks at the small clock on the wall. It's almost six a.m. - you've been preparing breakfast and lunch since 5 a.m., but especially the pies you want to serve in the evening. There's a lot to do, more than he expected. Peeling and chopping vegetables, letting them simmer on the stove on a low heat, while you get on with the other things: washing dishes, preparing tea and a sweet pastry to be served in the afternoon. Too much for one cook. How do you do this, when you're all on your own?

"Come on, I need some strong arms." 

For a moment, the Ravager wonders if this is a humorous reference to his superior physical abilities - but your energetic wave to follow makes him dismiss the idea. He does follow you out of the kitchen and around the next corner, registering for a moment the first sunlight creeping over the monastery walls. The first light of the morning is something that has always fascinated him - a detail in this world that definitely deserves his attention. Beautiful, as humans describe it.

"Here." Suddenly a heavy bucket is thrust into his arms, heavy and filled to the brim. He analyzes the contents: a mixture of oats, soybeans, and dried corn. A mixture like this is used to feed livestock. 

Though before he can ask any questions, you whiz past him with more buckets under your arm. Ramattra watches silently as you go back into the kitchen, listening to the clatter of things being put into the buckets. 

He doesn't know what to do now, so he just... stands there. Listens to his surroundings. He likes doing that.

The whining cry of a snow vulture is heard and Ramattra looks up; the bird is circling above the monastery in search of food. There is no wind inside the walls today, so its calls can be heard clearly. These birds are never seen in groups. Outside the nesting season, the snow vulture is alone.  

Does it ever feel lonely? 

Then suddenly you come back outside and close the kitchen door behind you. "Okay, we can go now."



When he looks up again, the bird is gone.

 

---

"Amelia isn't feeling well today, so I'll take over her work with the goats and sheep," you explain to your companion on the way down to the barren pastures. The small herd of goats and sheep is located between the monastery and the village, a steppe halfway up the mountain. Normally you'd take the small van to get there, but it's a beautiful morning and a walk like this is good for the heart and the head. Besides, on the way back you can forage for wild herbs and roots, which might replenish your supplies a bit. 

"She's in her third trimester, so obviously I'm not a fan of her going down to the herd alone every morning," you say. Ramattra walks beside you with the bucket of food in his arms, but as silent as ever. You get used to it very quickly if you don't expect any good conversation. "If she stumbles and falls, there's no one to help her." 

"Then why is she so eager to see the herd every day?" 

"She raised many of the animals from a young age," you explain. "She wants them to be well cared for." 

"I understand that children, especially newborns, require a lot of care. How will she find the time to tend to the herd when the child is due?" Ramattra's tone is cool and a little judgmental; he's obviously not a big fan of the complicated circumstances of pregnancy in the mountains of Nepal. You can't blame him, after all, Omnics don't have much to do with such things. Still, the other monks are excited about the idea of experiencing the miracle of a new life. 

"Yasha showed her how to tie the baby securely around her chest with a large cloth. Then she can take the baby anywhere," they report. "It will be fine. And until then, we'll all help make sure the herd is well taken care of." 

The Ravager falls into a thoughtful silence. Surely his thoughts sound like this: The concept of such helpless newborns is a distinct weakness. Human babies die alone, unable to walk soon after birth or to camouflage themselves in tall grass. Hmm.


Admittedly, he's not entirely wrong. You're happy for Amelia and her child though.

After twenty minutes of walking, you reach a small plateau. It is a meadow with wiry, dry grass, a few flowers and herbs. The monks have built a wooden fence and a small barn. It looks idyllic, this wooden hut with the mountains in the background. The landscape glows in the golden-orange light of the morning sun, and when you look at the whole picture, it warms your heart - maybe it's not all bad and terrible after all. Maybe everything is the way it should be. 

You are greeted by Bo and Yuu, the shepherd dogs, barking wildly. They watch over the small flock day and night, making sure no predators steal any of the sheep or goats. They do their job well, so you reach into one of the buckets and give them each a large piece of dried fish - as a treat. 

They hardly notice your companion. A quick check with their noses, then they run back to the herd - the Omnics are not considered a threat by the dogs. 

As awkward as the Ravager is standing at the wooden fence, you can be sure he is more than uncomfortable. He has never worked in the kitchen or tended the flock; he avoids the people of the monastery as much as possible and does nothing but meditate and hide in the archives. He isolates himself from the rest of the world with the excuse of searching for a deeper meaning; he is avoiding something, a great truth that is probably devastating. A feeling you know only too well.

"Good morning, good morning," you greet the small herd already gathered at the gate of the fence. They smell the food in the buckets and make their hunger and displeasure known with loud bleating. 

Feed us, they complain. Feed us! Feed us now! 

"Please put the food in the trough there," you instruct Ramattra, pointing to the narrow metal trough by the fence. "I'll take care of the little ones." 

He does as he is told and pours the food into the trough, which is immediately surrounded by a horde of hungry animals. They greedily pounce on the feed mixture, a wild stampede of sheep and goats, large and small. It is a motley collection that could hardly be more different in color and size. And yet one flock, one community. 

Meanwhile, you open the gate to the small barn and the four little lambs and goats, born a few weeks ago, jump out happily. They welcome this beautiful morning with leaps in the air, hearty bleats and squeaks, and nudge your legs with their heads. 

Food, food, food!

The bucket in your arms is stocked with four bottles, each filled to the brim with warmed goat's milk. At the moment, the pasture is so sparse that the mothers can't feed them all by themselves; though you always help them out so that the little ones will grow healthy and strong. 

You grab the first lamb, which is wriggling and kicking wildly, and put the rubber nipple from the bottle in its mouth. It immediately begins to suckle, panting as if it had never eaten before. The baby is warm and smells like hay - makes one want to stick the nose in the soft wool and inhale the scent of innocence personified.



You can feel Ramattra watching you. He does not enter the pasture; the small wooden fence is an insurmountable wall for the reclusive Omnic. His tall stature and the purple-black paint of his metallic body seem abstract in this idyllic landscape, he stands out in this sea of greens and browns. Even the warm tones of the monk's robes can't hide the fact that he stands out from pretty much everything. 

"Would you like to try it?" Your question breaks the silence. His grip on the empty bucket tightens, and you see a barely perceptible flicker in the red glow on his forehead. For a moment, he seems to take in the whole scene and contemplate it. He wonders if you have any hidden motives other than this simple question. But... all you are doing is holding the fidgety lamb and the warm bottle of milk.  

"I'd... rather not," he finally replies in a very calm, deliberate voice. 

You nod, but on the inside you want to sigh. Another thing he doesn't feel good about. Another job that is either not good enough for this Ravager or just plain unpleasant. It's hard to find something he doesn't hate. You would like to find a task that he can tolerate - a peace offering for the time he will spend in the kitchen. 

Taking care of the animals is probably not for him either. Damn. 

The lamb in your arms is sated and the bottle is empty, so you let it go. It jumps up and bleats, runs to its mother and presses its head into her thick wool. With a soft smile at the corners of your mouth, you watch them for a moment. Mother and child, together. They're safe here. 

Bo and Yuu are playing behind the barn, enjoying the short break while you keep an eye on the herd. Good. Life is good here. 

"Come on, now it's your turn, little one!" Your hands deftly grab one of the two baby goats and the next bottle from the bucket. It struggles wildly, then the smell of the warm milk quickly calms it - but out of the corner of your eye you see Ramatta put down the bucket and walk to the fence. 
Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches out and places his hand on the head of one of the sheep. The animals are used to being handled by the monks, and the sheep leans into his touch; his chest hydraulics rise slightly, almost as if he inhales in surprise. He moves his heavy metal hand gently over the thick wool, and you notice how careful he is. 

Until now, you've never really noticed how incredibly delicate he can be - Ravagers are so big in comparison to other Omnics that it's easy to overlook the incredible precision of their movements. 

Gentle. 

The word that best describes Ramattra's handling of the sheep. While you are careful to feed the baby goat in your arms and not stare at him too obviously, he strokes the sheep's head thoughtfully and gently. The animal enjoys the attention, snuggling up to his hand and attracting other sheep who also want to be petted. 

That sparks a thought in your head and a weird feeling in your chest. Maybe... maybe this grumpy Omnic is only half as bad as you thought?

 

Chapter 8: Good catch!

Notes:

everyone who reads this extremely self-indulgent fanfic is really cool btw............. thank you for reading :)

 

The sun casts a soft morning light over the mountains. It creeps over the crests of the hills and the grass, gently awakening the little flowers in the sparse meadows. They stretch out towards the sun, greeting their mother with colorful laughter, transforming the mountains into a place you would otherwise only see on postcards. It is one of those mornings when you are certain that nothing bad can happen in the world; that lasting peace is not just a possibility, but the inevitable goal of all living things on this planet. It is a morning when you want to lie down on the grass and listen to the birds and the bees instead of going to work. 

Ramattra is a few steps ahead of you on the path as you enjoy the view. The air may be cold up here, but the sun is doing its best to warm your face. Even though the difficulties and challenges of everyday life are weighing heavily on your chest, how can you be in a bad mood on such a beautiful morning? The bucket in your arm rattles with empty milk bottles for the baby goats, now full and well fed in the barn, protected by the herd and the shepherd dogs. Your job is done and it fills you with a sense of satisfaction, just like cooking. 
The privilege of being part of this community becomes very clear on days like this. 


Life here is good.
 

Even the Ravager has turned his gaze to the rich expanse of the mountains and is enjoying the quiet morning. Ever since you two left the small pasture, he has seemed pensive and even more silent than usual, but you attribute that to this ridiculously beautiful morning. 
To your surprise, however, he stops for a moment and turns his attention to you. 

"I understand why Amelia is emotionally attached to her job caring for the animals," he says. You make an approving noise in your chest, infused with an amused undertone. The image of Ramattra surrounded by the small flock of sheep and goats is much funnier than you'd like to admit: they were huddled against the wooden fence, demanding attention and petting. A request that he actually fulfilled, with a careful elegance in his movements that you immediately notice in such a large Omnic. 

You are just about to give an answer, when something to your right seems to move. Your eyebrows knit together and you raise your hand to your forehead to block out the sun; indeed, something is moving on the slope to your right! 

"What the...?" You put down the bucket of empty bottles and leave the trail that leads up the steep slopes to the monastery. The vegetation here is sparse and almost non-existent, just rocks and debris - making the cliffs fragile and dangerous. The narrow stone ledges quickly break off, sending those who walk on them plummeting to their deaths. 

Right on one of those ledges, something is moving, something small. 

"Oh, shit!" Immediately, your legs stir as you hear the desperate cries of the baby goat that has wandered onto the ledge. The wind carries the high-pitched cry, echoing off the mountain walls, testifying to the poor animal's plight.

Loose stones and sand slide under the soles of your shoes as you glide down the small slope. Dust swirls up and forms clouds that herald the coming disaster; at any moment, the little goat could slip and fall to its certain death!

Stumbling, you come to a halt as you feel the solid stone ground beneath your feet again. It takes two steps and rowing with your arms to regain your balance, but you immediately keep on moving. In front of you is a small plateau that forms a footbridge to a deep cliff. On your right, there are the pastures, and on your left, a sheer rock face rises on which the monastery stands. The weather and small landslides have carved ledges into this rock face, barely half a meter wide and just big enough for such a small creature to climb up and get stuck, which, to make matters worse, seems to be the case. 

"I'm coming!" you call up to the stone wall, from which the cries of the goat echo down, frightened and tearful. The little goat is standing a few meters up on the stone wall, its legs wobbling, huddled on a narrow ledge. You don't know how it got up there - but goats are known for their incredible climbing abilities. "Don't move!" 

Your whole body throws itself against the stone wall as you begin to climb; this beautiful morning has just turned into a disaster. The thought of what will happen to that small, fragile body when it hits the stone, all the way from up there, is enough to spur you on to climb up the stone wall with your bare hands. You don't know if your hands are strong enough, but this little life must be saved at all costs! 

 

---

 

Ramattra can barely comprehend the situation before you are already on your way to the stone wall where the small mammal is in an awkward position. Clouds of dust obscure your silhouette for a moment, and then you have already sprinted halfway across the plateau before his body can move. You fly like a bird over the small rocks on the scree, call something to the animal child and start climbing up the wall. You're fast.

11 meters. The baby goat is trapped on a ledge 11 meters above the plateau. Small stones are breaking off, an indication that the ledge will soon give way and break away under the animal's anxious stamping. Small hooves scrabble wildly for a foothold on the slippery rock, and it cries desperately for its mother, loud and piercing. 
Your heroism is admirable, but a fall from 11 meters would be fatal. For the animal as well as for you should you slip and fall. Broken bones would be the obvious injury from such a fall - but more likely would be massive head trauma and serious injury to internal organs. 

While he is still calculating the chances of a successful rescue, his heavy body begins to move, following the path you have taken. He slides down the scree slope, more dust kicking up behind him, momentarily obscuring the still smiling sun. It continues to watch the hustle and bustle of everything that touches its light, shining and laughing as bad things happen. A silent observer of your daring feat, which seems more reckless than heroic to Ramattra.

You climb very fast, he has to give you that. Your panting can be heard all the way down to the plateau, and before he reaches the stone wall, you have already climbed to a height of almost 6 meters. Small stones fall down, loosened by your weight. They land on the plateau with a thud and bounce once or twice more until they finally come to a halt or land in the adjacent ravine and disappear forever. 

If you fall now, you will die. 

Ramattra's processor works faster than usual, running through all the possible eventualities of this rescue operation. The chance of failure is 76%, because after all, you're a trained little climber - you're a cook. Why in the world did you just throw yourself into this act without going through the alternatives first? What absolutely nonsensical behavior, so impulsive and illogical that it stirs a spark of anger in him. 

"Your attempt to save this goat is very dangerous," he finally says, watching you struggle upward. He gets no answer, just an angry snort from above; you're already 8 meters up. "How are you going to get the goat down? You haven't thought your plan through." 

"Fuck you!" is the muffled reply from above, hissed out between clenched teeth. Hostility may not get you anywhere, but by the Iris, you really do use it as your weapon of choice.

The Ravager watches as you continue to fight your way to the top. The trembling in your hands suggests pain from the rough rocks, along with the exhaustion to be expected after such a drastic climb. By the time you reach the top, your body will be shaking with exhaustion. As the adrenaline wears off, the body suddenly becomes aware of the effort - another weakness that nature has built into organic beings. A flawed construct from front to back.

He ponders. The chances of getting the two of you down from up there are... slim. He cannot follow your ill-considered example of scaling the stone wall. His huge body weighs far too much for the small ledges to hold him up. Getting help at the monastery would probably be the best option. Get a ladder and possibly a large cloth to catch you both. If he hurries, he'll be up at the monastery in a few minutes and would probably be back here in less than 22 minutes, with help and a much better chance of a positive end to this situation. 

"Okay, I'm coming down now!" Before Ramattra can protest that this is utter nonsense, your foot finds the nearest rock under the ledge, ready to begin the descent. 

While he was lost in thought for a second, you have made the final sprint to the ledge and grabbed the small goat. It is safely tucked into your sweater, with only its head sticking out of the collar. You now stare down at him, like a human-animal hydra as the baby goat bleats. It doesn't understand the circumstances, but it doesn't struggle against the tightness of your sweater. Instead, it licks your chin and makes only quiet noises. The tightness and body heat seem to calm the baby. 

Slowly and deliberately, you move down the wall, much more carefully than when you climbed up. Against his will, Ramattra is fascinated by your movements, tense and a little worried about whether you will make it down to the plateau. If you do, it will certainly be the new story that is passed around like a water jug at lunch. The cook at the monastery has heroically put herself in danger and rescued a baby goat!

"Careful!" A stone breaks loose from under your shoe. For a terrifying second, he fears you might actually fall - but your foot finds its footing again, to the right of the broken stone. Your movements stop for a moment, as if you are taking a deep breath to get over the shock. 
He is more nervous and tense about the situation than he would admit out loud. Sure, kitchen duty isn't something he's particularly keen on - but that doesn't mean he wishes you ill. Even if you're an impulsive person who's hard to get along with, the Ravager doesn't want you to end up a pile of bones, flesh, and blood in front of him. He has seen more than his share of that sight during the Crisis. No need to refresh those memories.

"Almost there," he assures you, trying to keep his voice calm and indifferent. It's only 6 meters to the ground. You'll make it. 

"Oh-!" A small, soft sound escapes your body as the ledge you're holding onto gives way. With a crunching sound, the stone material breaks away and your hands lose the only hold they had. Even the goat makes a small, quiet sound as your body falls backward. 

If Ramattra had lungs, he would be breathless - but instead his body moves forward, reacting to the imminent danger: his processor pushes all ongoing processes to the background in a fraction of a second, pulling the task of saving you to the forefront as a top priority.

"Ough-!" The Ravager's sensors register that you and the goat are landing in his arms, and his processor calculates a corresponding downward movement to break the momentum of your fall. Fatal damage is avoided, the worst-case scenario does not occur because his body acted on pure instinct. Does he have instincts? Or is the fact that you didn't die a violent death just a lucky coincidence of his high computing power?


Either way, he feels... relief.

 

You weigh almost nothing to him, as light as a feather. Ramattra can feel your fragile human body in his arms. His sensors are so finely tuned that he can feel your hot, panting breath on his metal; the violent pumping of your cardiovascular system now sending adrenaline through your trembling body. You stare up at him with huge, fear-dilated pupils. 

"Are you hurt?" This physical contact brings up many more error messages than he expected. His system is not used to such close contact with a human and does not know how to handle it; it lets him know that this is an unacceptable situation. There are no logs dealing with such things, only long-suppressed cross-references to memories of the Crisis when he killed people under the influence of Anubis. Humans. Physical contact. So fragile, so terribly fragile. 

The smell of spices from the kitchen is on you. In your hair and on your clothes. He registers each one, but that combination of anise, caraway, and your skin is now saved in his archive as your unique scent. More error messages have to be suppressed by sheer willpower.

"I'm okay, I think," you finally croak, carefully moving your legs and arms. "A few bruises maybe, but otherwise..." The movement of your body in his arms, so delicate and soft, triggers his system until Ramattra finally has enough. Your organic body is far too warm on the metal of his chest plate, it raises a lot of questions he doesn't want to waste his internal memory on. 

"Good." He sets you down, on your wobbly legs. With a little scurrying, you pull the goat out of your sweater and examine the long, awkward legs of the animal with your hand. The baby seems to be unharmed as well, at least judging by your satisfied look. You're obviously relieved that the baby is all right - but the Ravager can still see the shock in your features and the knowledge that you narrowly escaped serious injury. 

"You should see brother Zenyatta," he says, pushing aside his own uncertainty about this strange, challenging situation. "For the scratches and bruises."

"Yes, you're right." You look away as he takes a step back. He doesn't dare to assume why being near a Ravager makes you uncomfortable, even though it's obvious why that is.


Your trembling hand strokes the soft, white fur of the little goat; an act of self-soothing. You catch your breath and are glad to be alive, understandably so. "Let's get the little one back to the herd. How she escaped, I don't know - but I'm glad we're both safe. Thanks to you." You look up at him, and he clears his throat at the sight of that genuine gratitude in your eyes. 

"You're... welcome." He can't think of anything better to say. 

 

Once again, he has much to meditate on.

 

Chapter 9: Desperate measures

 

Today's breakfast is oatmeal and fruit. 

First, you roast the oats for a few seconds in the wok without oil, which gives them a pleasant aroma and makes the whole kitchen smell wonderful. Do not roast them for too long though, no more than 30 seconds, so the oats don't burn. Then add the milk, sugar, a good pinch of salt, cinnamon and fresh vanilla. Let the oatmeal simmer slowly over a low heat - this gives you plenty of time to prepare the fruit. Just before the dish is ready, turn off the heat and let it rest for 5 minutes. 

Every year, the monks collect mandarins, nashi, and mangos, which are then pickled. Marinated in sugar overnight, they become wonderfully sweet - perfect for eating with oatmeal the next morning. It's a simple dish, but it's a good start to the day for the monks. 

Your stomach growls. 

"Your stubbornness will not satisfy your body's need for food." Ramattra's voice from the corner of the kitchen breaks the pleasant silence of this already eventful morning. The more hungry you get, the more likely you are to lash out at the Ravager. A deep breath prevents the worst, but if he continues to be so clever, who knows if it won't turn into an argument. He should focus on his task, kneading the dough for the dumplings, instead of being a smartass. 

"I'll eat later," you say, stirring the sweet-smelling oatmeal dish carefully so that nothing burns. "I'll be fine."

"For a supposedly responsible person, you're being very irresponsible to your own needs," he replies with a strange tone in his voice - a certain note of provocation. Why does he aim where it hurts? Is he in a bad mood again?
But instead of getting into a real argument about how your well-being is none of his damn business, you purse your lips and say nothing in response.

Your hands work simultaneously on the wok and on washing the rice. The last grains of rice are out of the bag, there will be barely enough for dinner. The huge bag is now completely empty and the remaining potatoes in the basket next to you will only last for tomorrow's lunch. Shit. 

There's still no solution from Yasha and Mondatta, so it's up to you to find a way to get the much needed food until Friday. Surely the spiritual leaders of the Shambali are doing their best, but... that's simply not enough. A shipment of food isn't going to just fall out of the sky and save the week - not to mention the fact that the next delivery is sure to start all this bullshit over again. Once again, by some unfortunate coincidence, too few supplies will be delivered and you'll be left empty-handed. It's a battle against windmills, to say the least. 

You turn off the gas stove and close the big wok with the lid. Desperate measures are called for, so you grab a bucket from under the sink and turn to Ramattra.

"We'll share the breakfast work real quick," you say, only to be met with a blank stare from the Omnic. "You take the food to the common hall in five minutes. Then meet me at the west gate."

"The west gate?" Now you've got his attention. The gate opens the way down into the valley - not the path that leads to the village, but into the valley basin, where there are small wooded areas and stepped, green mountain slopes. The walk there takes at least two hours, which raises the question of what you expect to find there. 

"Remember, in five minutes! And you still have to bring the bowls to the common hall!" you yell at him as you run out the door at a brisk sprint. 

The clatter of the bucket in your hand is a wild drumbeat as you jog along the path to the gardens. The air is cold and clear, a relief to your lungs, which were badly damaged all those years ago by the rubble and ash of your destroyed hometown. But up here in the mountains, you can breathe easily and your cough is almost gone. Up here you can walk and run without coughing and choking, a quality of life you can only appreciate when it is taken away from you.


Despite everything, life here is good.

The gardens are almost empty when you arrive: Only three monks work in silent unity on a newly planted bed. As you pass, they greet you with warm words, which you return with a cheerful wave. But you don't have time to chat - your destination is the compost pile, which is teeming with worms. As much as you regret it, the little helpers in the garden have to sacrifice themselves today to take care of the human monks. Inwardly, you pray their forgiveness as you pull them from the big compost heap into the bucket you brought. If there were a more elegant solution, you would choose it - but you are running out of ideas to get through the week. Sorry, little ones!

"Good morning." Zenyatta's voice makes you look up. He's standing behind you, watching with interest as you dig through the compost. "What a fascinating occupation."

Actually... that's a rather fortunate coincidence to meet him here.

"Zen, what are you up to today?" you ask, loading another handful of worms into the bucket. "Still working in the workshop?"

He nods. "The spare parts we need have finally arrived. We can help some brothers and sisters get better." Ah, crap... So you'll have to spend the day alone with Ramattra after all. Inwardly, you'd hoped Zenyatta would act as a buffer between you and the Ravager - so you wouldn't have to think about that strange feeling when he saved you from falling to your certain death this morning. This... weird feeling of being completely safe in his touch. The barely audible hiss as his hydraulics move. The scratch on his faceplate that you can only see if you get really close. 

You swallow. "Oh, uhm-- that's too bad. I was about to invite you to this thing I'll be doing today-."

"Thing? Sounds intriguing, even though my day will be filled with working in the workshop. But please, tell me more about your thing."

 

* * *

 

"Fishing?!"

"Yes, fishing." Less than 10 minutes later, Ramattra is at the west gate, waiting for you as discussed. You are standing in front of him with a bucket full of worms, lines and two old but still working fishing rods from the shed. 

"I-" He sighs and his fans hiss in frustration. "Fishing. Why?"

"I have to find food somehow," you say, leaning a little closer to him, almost as if it's a conspiracy that supplies are missing. It's certainly an unpleasant fact. "I usually serve vegetarian food whenever possible, but..." Desperate measures. "I see no other solution than to serve fish to those who are willing to eat it." 

Ramattra is silent for a moment, then visibly gives in to your logic. Yes, that makes sense. But he still doesn't want to go fishing with you.

"Why do you need my presence for that?" he asks bitterly. "I have far better things to do than sit around all day hoping to catch a fish with a stick, a line, and a worm." 

"Pretty arrogant," you spit. "Thinking you're above the call of duty to stand up for this community."

Oh, that hits a nerve - the Ravager straightens a bit, just a few millimeters, but enough to make you clench your jaws. His massive stature involuntarily evokes terrible memories that are instantly suppressed by your inner discipline. This Ravager is no destroyer; he is a monk. He is no threat to you. He saved you. 

"Tsk. I will do my part," he finally says, taking one of the fishing poles from your hand. "Though you and I obviously have different ideas about what constitutes an appropriate contribution." 

He leaves through the west gate without so much as a glance at you. Great, this is going to be a wonderful day! Spending time with this easily irritated Omnic would push even a saint to his limits. Is it too much to ask that just once he not be unruly and difficult to deal with? For him to back off a little and be sociable? Or maybe even open up to an honest conversation?! 

You sigh heavily and stomp after him. The sandy path crunches under the soles of your shoes, a fitting reflection of your own mood. The desire to get along with everyone in the monastery weighs heavily on your shoulders; like a heavy anchor, this desire pulls at you, and the fact that Ramattra is such an... exhausting contemporary is all the more annoying. This remote place in the mountains is a refuge and a little paradise that you have to appreciate. How can he be in such a bad mood all the time, when he's surrounded by so much wisdom and holiness? 

Apart from the fact that fishing is a very pleasant pastime. Peace and quiet and the chance to let your thoughts be carried away by the sound of the water. Cooking, fishing, meditating... all the same when you look at it simply. A chance to unwind and relax. A little relaxation would certainly do your kitchen assistant some good.

"I am not without my faults." When you catch up with Ramattra, his voice is less cold than before. You feel a little sorry for calling him arrogant - it's not like he chose kitchen duty. And to be honest, he'd probably be better off in the archives! "But I think it's an exaggeration to call me arrogant."

"We all have to work on ourselves a lot," you agree. "And we have to do things we don't like. But let's be honest -" You give him a sideways glance, which he deftly ignores. "Sometimes you think you're better than the rest of us, don't you?" 

"I-" At first he seems to miss the soft, playful undertone in your voice, but then he relents. "Like I said, I'm not without my faults." 

Oh, you like the slightly amused tone of his voice - and it elicits a small chuckle from you, fortunately drowned out by the rattling of the bucket. It brings with it the faint hope that this day won't be quite as bad as you expected. And if you catch a few big fish now, it might even lift your spirits! 

 

Chapter 10: A matter of patience

 

The way to the lake is long and, admittedly, more difficult than expected. The path down into the valley is crumbly and sandy, it gives your shoes hardly any grip and more than once you almost slip. Falling here would not be a death sentence like your escapade this morning - but you don't need to embarrass yourself in front of your companion.
The Ravager notices your occasional cursing, but says nothing. Instead, he continues to stride forward, his heavy body firmly anchored to the path and in no danger of losing its balance. It almost seems as if he is silently mocking your clumsiness. 

"We'll be there soon," you sigh, clutching the bucket of worms that almost fell to the ground for the second time. Your shoes give way under a slippery section of scree again, yet you manage to avoid diving face first into the dirt. "Agh, shit-! I prefer the path to the village!"

"The path to the village is often used," Ramattra replies from ahead. "This path seems to me to be of little use. And might I mention the fact that this hike was your idea."

You hiss between clenched teeth. "Yes, I know that. Thank you." He can shove these know-it-all comments up his... whatever. Your teasing about his arrogance apparently hit a nerve - he seems upset. 

Offended.

"Even if the view is worth it". 

He's right: nature is particularly beautiful on this rarely used path. Shrubs with small, white flowers grow along the edges, and the gravel becomes more and more covered with grasses and wildflowers as you descend into the valley. The sweet scent of the flowers, full of pollen, makes the air heavy and juicy; it's like pressing your face into a bouquet of wildflowers and taking a deep breath. It favors that gentle, warm feeling in your chest that you feel every time you look at the nature in this valley: a contentment that can only be found here in the mountains of Shambali, Nepal. A little peace after all the pain of the past, a warm cave to hide in from heartbreak. 

A small clump of trees announces a flatter but firmer land: the steep slopes give way to a grassland dotted with small groves. Not enough to count as forest per se, but enough to provide a safe home for birds and small animals. 

"Do you think we can catch enough fish?" you ask into the silence, trying to suppress the anxiety that is building up. It has been gnawing at you for days, the uncertainty eating away at you and preventing you from getting the sleep you so desperately need. 

"Why are you asking me this?" Ramattra counters coolly. "Are you doubting your decision? Isn't that a little unlike you? To doubt?"

"I'm just trying to have a conversation with you." 

"Why?"

You shrug. "Because it's polite and - because we're going to be sitting together for a few hours. A little conversation makes it more pleasant, you know."

The Omnic snorts. "As far as I know, you're supposed to be quiet when you're fishing. I myself welcome the silence more than the unnecessary chatter of humans." 

Ohh, by the Iris, that damn Ravager can be so annoying!

"Don't pretend that we humans do nothing but chatter!" With defiance in your movement, you shoulder the fishing pole a little more firmly, with a strong grip on the wood. He makes you angry, as he always does, with his condescending manner that he only shows to you. "K33N and Aria talk just as much - and so does Zenyatta! He can talk your ear off if you don't stop him."

Ramattra lets out a soft sigh, and from behind, you see his head tilt slightly to the side. One of the heavy black cables on his neck falls to the side - not for the first time you wonder what that mechanical mane feels like. 

"Admittedly, brother Zenyatta can occasionally be very... engrossed in his monologues on lepidopterology. A few months ago, I was fortunate enough to attend his lecture on the early pupal stage of Papilio demoleus - it was..." He hesitates, searching for the right word to describe the experience. "enlightening." 

That elicits an amused grunt from you, a snort, and honestly - yes, you know Zenyatta's lectures all too well. If you don't interrupt him in time, he can get a little out of control and drown you in facts. Not that his interest in butterflies is a bad thing - but when you have a busy schedule, a two-hour lecture can definitely slow you down.

"It's very beautiful here," Ramattra admits quietly as you reach the lake. The lake is not very big, but it glistens so brightly in the morning sun that it hardly matters. The reeds along the shore frame the water in a lush green, like a painting. A thousand colors dance on the surface of the water, merging into one another, yet all united under the gentle sun reflected in the lake. 

"It's a wonderful place," you agree and walk towards the shore. Hopefully many fish will bite. "I come here sometimes... when I want to be alone." 

You put the bucket down next to you and sit down on the lakeshore in a smooth, well-rehearsed motion. The body remembers things like this when you go fishing with your father for years. Movements and hand gestures that are never completely lost. Performed a thousand times and forever engraved in your existence; the last legacy of a person who is gone. An echo of a time that is only a blurred memory. 

Ramattra joins you, sits down next to you on the grass with his legs crossed and watches the landscape for a moment. This small valley is a place of peace; a lake, a small meadow, and a few fruit trees - it is a secret place that few people know about. The Omnic is part of it now.

"Gimme that for a second--" You reach for his rod and take the hook while the other hand reaches into the bucket. "You hold the hook like this, then you put the worm on it-"

"I'm not a child," the Ravager snarls, pulling the rod out of your hands. "You don't have to explain it to me like I'm incapable of doing mundane tasks like this."

At that snarky, slightly aggressive tone, you snort and turn your attention to your own rod - let him get on with it. It's not like fishing is that easy! But he'll find that out for himself - it's unlikely that his model knows anything about things like fishing and gutting fish. 

Actually - arrogant is a good word to describe him. 

 

---

He cannot explain his irritable mood. Normally Ramattra is very calm and cool, extremely calculating and distant. But your comment about his habit of speaking condescendingly... it upsets him. Very much. 

He doesn't see himself as condescending. He is polite to everyone in the monastery. Even to those he doesn't like, which is almost everyone. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes that he doesn't really like any of the people. He tolerates them all, yes. Master Mondatta wants it that way. But really, honestly liking someone? Not really, no. There would probably only be a handful of Omnics, if any. 

Zenyatta. Aria. K33N, when he's not being annoyingly loud. Master Mondatta, of course. Clark - formerly CL-6 - from the village's Omnic workshop. 

That's... not a very long list. Does the list need to be longer? Is he really that picky about company? Is there anything wrong with being picky? 

Ramattra watches you throw the line into the lake with a flourish. It makes a long arc in the air, reaching much farther than your body gives it momentum - and lands very far away, almost in the middle of the lake. Your body hasn't moved much, so why has the hook landed so far back there, at the deep end of the water?
There must be a certain technique for casting the line, refined by generations of people. Interesting.

He looks down at the hook in his hand. The worm on it writhes, impaled on the sharp metal tip. He should feel sorry for this worm, a life that the two of you are ending today to benefit you. 

But he feels... nothing.

He does not feel sorry for the worm. This tiny life cannot be considered very valuable by his system. It is just a worm. The red, limbless body writhes back and forth on the hook, and for a split second, just a flash of light in his system, he sees a human being in front of him, in the ruins of a destroyed building, writhing on a torn steel beam. The air is filled with ash and the stench of blood; the screech of fire and dying metal is everywhere. The human writhes, curled up like a worm on a fishhook. Anubis urges him to destroy, and the grip on his weapon is tightening.

"Are you all right?"

Ramattra looks up. He feels your gaze on him, with a burning spark of concern in it. His hand on the fishing rod squeezes so hard that the wood creaks and threatens to break; he loosens his grip and regulates the temperature of his CPU by blowing a breath of fresh morning air through his fans. A sigh from his mechanical body to dispel the memories. They are sorted back into the directories he does not want to access. Locked away and nested so deep that they are buried far, far away. 

"How do you know when a fish has taken the bait? There's no obvious sign of it," he asks you. He doesn't miss the hesitation in your body language; you've seen that something's wrong - but you're polite enough not to mention it. 

"You have to look carefully," you explain, tugging gently on the line, causing the hook to move through the water. "And watch the rod. You can feel when a fish bites." You tug on the line again. It moves again. "They won't be big fish, not in such a small lake, but you can definitely feel their effort to get the worm."

He makes a throaty sound of understanding and casts his own line - not as elegantly or effectively as you, by a long shot. The hook lands somewhere between your lure and the bank, much to his own displeasure. So there really is a technique behind the motion of casting a fishing rod. That's... kind of irritating, for some reason. 

"And now we wait?"

You shrug. "Sure. Sometimes you tug on the line to make the hook move - the rest is a matter of patience."

A matter of patience. It's hard to believe that you, of all people, with your impulsive nature, are talking about patience. 

"I should have less of a problem with that than you," the Ravager says, loosening his posture a bit to relieve the hydraulics. Your amused snort assures him that you find this teasing quite true and amusing. Good. That's how it was meant. 

"You have to be very patient when you're cooking," you finally answer with a slight smile, which he takes as something positive. Your voice is lowered so as not to frighten the fish - he adjusts his volume to yours so as not to endanger a potential catch. His voice is almost a whisper now.

"Really? You always seem to be quite stressed when you cook."

"Yes and no," you admit. "I have to do a lot of things at once, but, for example: if I want a nice, crispy crust when I'm frying- I can't be impatient and poke around in the pan. I have to wait until I know that delicious crust has formed."

"How do you know when it's done?"

The answer takes a moment. "Intuition. And experience."

"Hmm." Interesting. "Doesn't one condition the other? What is intuition but the accumulation of experience and a resulting expectation that refers to precise indicators and factors?"

You laugh softly, a beautiful laugh - why it is beautiful, he does not know. But it is registered as very positive. 

"Spoken like a true Omnic," you say, giving him a sly sideways glance. "You're not wrong, but you're not entirely right either. Gut feelings cannot be explained by pure logic, I'm afraid." 

"I think that's where we differ." 

Your smile broadens a little. "Perhaps. But we'll talk about it again when you're done with your kitchen duty."

 

 

 

Notes:

oh so he's got one of them traumas

Chapter 11: The delicate flavor of denial

Notes:

Those who follow my tumblr and my webcomic closely already know that I'm currently recovering from surgery - but I still managed to edit the new chapter :) Have fun!

 

"I'm going to prepare dinner. I don't care what you do." 

Ramattra watches you go into the kitchen with the bucket under your arm, obviously very disappointed. 

You only caught three small fish. Hardly enough to feed two people, let alone half a monastery. The walk back from the lake was marked by your quietly simmering anger and the tears in your eyes; by your quiet disappointment at your own inadequacies. The fact that you have no influence on whether and how well the fish bite is, of course, again a minor matter. Self-flagellation for no reason: It's just a case of blindly lashing out, with you as the only one who suffers. 

This habit of blaming yourself for things over which one has no control - just to simulate some degree of control - is quite strange to the Omnic. Illogical and thoroughly human. The fear of being at the mercy of this world when you no longer feel in control. So human, in fact, and yet: he can almost understand it. 

Control is good. It is a state that he himself tries to maintain at all costs. The lack of control is like free fall, uncomfortably reminiscent of the cold fingers of Anubis controlling every one of his movements. Movements that were not his own, carried out by invisible strings. 

Control is good. Control is important.

Ramattra turns away from the fading sound of your footsteps in the monastery corridor and decides to use his day off to pay Zenyatta a visit. His brother is working at the Omnic workshop in the village - the hospital for Omnic pilgrims and monastery residents. Spare parts and complex repairs are available there. It is the mechanical equivalent of the village doctor's house, which serves the people in the area. Although it's not the kind of workshop you would expect in a larger city, it's enough to take care of the members of Shambali. 

Even though Ramattra doesn't like to go to the village, it's worth the effort to visit his brother Zenyatta. The work in the kitchen is time-consuming, and their time together this week has been too short. He'd like to talk to someone who truly understands him and isn't offended by his rough edges. And Zenyatta is the only one who really takes him for what he is. 

"Oh, hey--" K33N comes around the corner of the hallway leading to the common room. He has his arms crossed behind his head, and his slightly bouncy walk suggests that he has won another game of dice. Admittedly, for a fishing Omnic, he is extremely skilled at gambling and has an impenetrable poker face. The reason he was created and the skills he is actually good at are quite different. Come to think of it, that could be said of many Omnics here in the monastery. 

"Greetings," Ramattra says, pausing his movements, which K33N mirrors. The smaller Omnic tilts his head in interest. 

"No cooking today?" he asks. 

"There were... complications," Ramattra replies after a short pause. "The goal today was to catch some fish, but the yield was very meager."

K33N makes a thoughtful sound in his metal throat and leans slightly to the side. "I'm not surprised. After all, the waters here are much too shallow for the fish to get very big." He puts his hands in the pockets of his oversized shorts, patched in places with fine fishing line. K33N is one of the few Omnics in the monastery who still wears his old clothes from his former life; most members of the order have followed Master Mondatta's example and donned simple robes of their own making. This makes K33N's blue pants stand out even more, along with the orange paint on his chest plate. 

A patch on his pants reads 'Dormen Fishing', indicating the fishing Omnic's former place of employment. Working for humans. This is something Ramattra cannot reconcile with his program. Working hard so that a human being is enriched by his work? No, that's not something he would wear like a sign on his body. Just the thought of it makes something in his chest hiss angrily.

"Huh. 'guess I'll go pay our cook a visit, check on their mood and the situation," K33N says, raising his hand in farewell as he turns away. "See you, Ram!" 

"Goodbye." The Ravager nods slightly to acknowledge the farewell. 

The fishing Omnic remains a mystery to him. He stands out from the other personalities at Shambali Monastery, if only because of his strangely carefree nature and cheerful disposition. He belongs on a billboard on a sandy beach where surfers and ne'er-do-wells abound - instead he is here in the mountains of Nepal. Cold winds and goats instead of warm summer breezes and campfires under the stars. What could have brought him here?

Ramattra continues on his way while one of his background processes thinks a bit about what your damn problem is. This disappointment and anger that surrounds you like a fine mist rubs off on him. Every little bit of patience he has for you is then distorted and twisted into a red rag of irritation that blinds his visual sensors. 

It bothers him when you feel bad. 

But why does it bother him? He can ignore the snide remarks, the extra-loud clatter of pots and pans being slammed on the stove with stoic force. The soft hissing and growling under your heavy breath as you curse to yourself. These things happen almost every day - you have a short fuse, as humans say - and one gets used to it very quickly when sharing the little space in the kitchen. 
Still, it bothers him when you're in a bad mood. It's much easier to deal with you when you're in a good mood! Then you hum to yourself and work in the kitchen as if you've never done anything else in your life. A gentle choreography that is well rehearsed and where nothing ever goes wrong. Such moments are quite pleasant to watch and he is always impressed - against his will - by your obvious talent in this field of work. Work goes more smoothly when he can see your slight smile. 

"Brother Ramattra!" Aria. Can't he get a single moment of peace? "It's good to see you!"

He wants to sigh, he really doesn't feel like company, but he can't stop the pure joy of the female Omnic. It's not polite to show annoyance, Zenyatta once pointed out. Enthusiasm must be encouraged.

"Greetings," he replies, albeit a little cooler than he would have liked. Aria appears in his field of view, coming out of the adjoining corridor to his right, as happy as ever. The necklaces she makes from wooden beads and stones clink and rattle loudly with every step she takes. It is a chant that always accompanies her. Another reason why it is so incredible that she can sneak up on people so well.

"Aren't you in the kitchen today?" she asks, and Ramattra feels his nerves tighten even more. First K33N, now her... So now he's being reduced to his role as a kitchen assistant?! This is getting worse. He's a monk, not your kitchen boy.

"I'm on my way to the village, to the workshop." No, he's not going to explain the fish debacle again. "I plan to visit Brother Zenyatta today." 

"That's perfect! I'm on my way to the shop too," she replies happily and promptly joins him on his way. "My ankle is having trouble with the hydraulics, which is a real pain when working in the yard. Yesterday I tripped and fell on one of the tea bushes - man, Jobe was furious..." 

"I suppose" He doesn't really want company, but she seems so... genuinely happy to see him. Nobody can say no to Aria. "we can go to the village together." 

"Great!" she exclaims, her step bouncing a little more than before. "That'll be fun - you're so rarely seen in the village."


It's true. And with good reason.


"People are sensitive about the appearance of Ravagers," Ramattra admits. "They don't like to see me there." 

"Oh, and that stops you?" Aria asks. "What others think of you, I mean?" 

"Of course n--" he answers immediately, but something makes him stop. Actually, he is tired of being met with hostile looks. His kind was hunted down after the Omnic Crisis, and only a few are still active; and wherever a Ravager settles, peace does not last long. Peace is not granted to his kind.

Avoiding humans has simply become the easiest thing to do. 

"Don't worry too much about it, Brother." Together they leave the monastery and take the path down to the village. "I can understand that you can't stand the looks. I don't like them either. But as Master Mondatta always says: We must set a good example and extend our hand to the humans. Only then we can live together in harmony."

"Master Mondatta is probably not wrong," Ramattra agrees bitterly. "Even if it is easier to say for his model. Ravagers are in a different position."

"Hmm." Aria makes a thoughtful sound in her chest that ends in a slight hiss from her fans. "He would probably say that the Ravagers have to work harder - and that when peace finally comes, it will be all the more wonderful because of their efforts."

Ramattra sighs. Yes, that is what Mondatta would say.

The rest of the walk is filled with light small talk: Aria asks about his work in the kitchen. She knows how to elicit honest answers from him with gentle, innocent questions that no one else would ask him. What his favorite thing to do in the kitchen is and if he learned anything new. What he thinks about when he peels potatoes. If he has noticed the birds that like to wait outside the window, waiting for some leftover crumbs - and that he should definitely throw them some, otherwise the poor little birds will be hungry and sad.

Interestingly, it is easy for him to talk to her. This is a real rarity, because usually such easy and pleasant conversations are only possible with Zenyatta. Aria may be as mysterious as K33N, but in a much more charming way. 

"I really like our cook! Do you like them too?" But with this question she hits a target he didn't know existed. Like...? You?

"Um..." A barrage of error messages rushes through his system, as a contradiction arises: your personality flaws are absolutely annoying and exhausting, sometimes even infuriating. But when he formulates the answer that he only tolerates your presence because Mondatta ordered it, his system violently resists. He can't admit that he likes you, but he can't say that he doesn't like you either. An inner conflict that makes him mentally stumble for a moment.

Aria waits patiently for the cleverly worded response she always gets from the Ravager. Thoughtful and eloquent. Drenched in pure intelligence and class. 

"They're..., um-- they're fine. I think." 

Wow. A complete failure. 

"Yes, I think so too!" chirps Aria happily, probably ignoring this complete mess of an answer out of sheer politeness. "They go to so much trouble to make sure we're all okay... I find it very admirable." 

"Mhm.." He doesn't answer, in case his system decides to come up with another nonsensical accumulation of words. He'd rather avoid the embarrassment. 

Actually - maybe it's a good thing he has an afternoon off - then he doesn't have to think about you that much. 

 

Chapter 12: Tolerable

 

The village workshop is small and way busier than one might imagine. 
Now that new spare parts have been delivered, the broken Omnics are coming in droves; this area is remote and lacks basic services for many things, including a workshop for Omnics. To get service, they would have to drive to the nearest town and hope to get an appointment there - which is why this little workshop in the village near the monastery is so popular with the local mechanics and mechanical population. 

"You seem very comfortable here, brother." Ramattra sits on a metal crate against the wall, next to a few boxes of tools and oil cans. His shepherd's crook leans against the wall, as does the back of his head. Zenyatta's company soothes him immensely. The only time the Ravager relaxes is when he is alone - or when his gentle brother talks to him. Zenyatta's lighthearted and friendly nature brings a certain clarity to one's thoughts. He has a knack for untying certain knots in the mind, leaving you with renewed energy. 

The monk takes his time answering, though. 

"It's an interesting job," Zen finally says. "I can help a lot of our kind here. But at the same time, I can feel the suffering that comes with the lack of spare parts. Sometimes the mechanics have to get creative with solutions for the customers. And sometimes, we can't help the customers at all - and have to send them away."

Ramattra makes a pensive sound in his chest. If he broke down, would there even be parts for him? He hasn't met another Ravager in years, and producing parts for his kind isn't worth even the slightest illusion. 

"Don't tell Master Mondatta... but I prefer to work in the garden," Zenyatta sighs softly, as if revealing a secret. "I'm more comfortable working with organic beings, I'm afraid." 

"You surprise me," Ramattra replies. "I would have expected you to find this work very impressive and fulfilling."

"Oh, I do." The monk shifts a little in his seat. "But I prefer quiet work, where I have time to think. Fun work can be a form of meditation." 

"Hmm." Working in the kitchen is very meditative, Ramattra has to admit. Fishing was also very quiet, with plenty of time to let his mind wander. Looking at the workshop, on the other hand, the mechanics scurry about, while yelling over each other's voices. The tools are loud, echoing off the walls; it's an organized chaos to cope with the burden of the day's work. Get everything done, somehow. Like a tiny beehive in this building, it buzzes and hums everywhere, accompanied by the melody of the sound of metal on metal. Not unpleasant, but certainly distracting in the long run. 

"How's your work in the kitchen going?" After a short pause, Zenyatta turns back to him. "Did you get used to it?"

A good question. Has he?

"It's..." Words. He can't find the right words to describe what's going on in his processor. Improvise. "Not as bad as I expected." 

"Sounds like progress." 

"Perhaps." Is it really progress though? The more he gets used to working in the kitchen, the more confused he becomes about his feelings for you. Such a nerve-wracking person as you are, with your quirks and flaws... And yet so interesting, so fiery, so... unique. So impulsive that he is constantly tense in anticipation of gaining further insight into your enigmatic nature. 

"I see." There is a hint of amusement in Zenyatta's voice. "So you and our cook get along well?"

Oh... He's definitely trying to get at something with that question. How irritating. 

"It's tolerable." 

Now Ramattra sits up with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. This is not a subject he wants to discuss with anyone - not even his brother. No, this deep inner conflict is something he cannot and does not want to categorize himself. Even less does he want to discuss these confusing thoughts. 

"Just tolerable?"

"Yes."

"I see." 

Silence. Zenyatta does not press further, even though an aura of burning curiosity surrounds him. Monk or not, this oh-so-transcendent Omnic is always open to gossip and scandal. Surely he would like to know what goes on in the Ravager's processor. 

"You like them."

Oh, by the Iris...


 
"I said it's tolerable," Ramattra insists on his statement, but he feels a touch of anger rising in him, coupled with a feeling he's not used to: embarrassment. If he could blush, he would probably do so. Liking you... Nonsense! "We work together and put up with each other. That's all we need." 

"Would it be so bad if you made friends?" 

"I am not in need of friends."

"Spoken like a truly balanced spirit."

Ramattra snarls at his brother's reply, for he delivers it with a bold sarcasm, which is rarely heard in Zen. Bickering or not, the Ravager cannot stand to have anyone else make assumptions about his life; even his best friend's comments are out of line. 

For a moment there is silence between the two, a tense silence: this conversation has reached a bottleneck that leads into emotional waters that the larger Omnic finds particularly uncomfortable and that irritate his naturally hot temper. Self-control is everything, and were it not for his almost perfect display of said self-control, he would probably have stormed off in a rage. 

"I think it's good for you, dear brother," Zenyatta speaks up again, this time a little more sensitive and in a softer tone of voice. He leans slightly into the Ravager's personal space to emphasize his concern. "I see your loneliness. And you have opened up a lot in this one week!" 

Ramattra is surprised. "Have I?"

"Of course you have! You never come to the village."

Well, Zenyatta is right. The Ravager usually avoids the village with impressive consistency. And now he is sitting here in the workshop, watching a mechanic repair Aria's leg while she happily chats with him. It is noisy and busy around him, a stark contrast to his preferred environment: silence and solitude. Yet... he is here.
 

Because of you. Because you keep challenging him, frustrating him to the point where he would rather be in the village than in the monastery, where you are currently roaring like a dragon in his cave. Sometimes he thinks your fierce look is about to spray sparks if he takes things too far again. When you huff and puff in silent anger at him, he feels a twisted kind of pleasure; for he knows that you will still put up with him and take him as he is. 
You accept him with his superficially serious nature and look deeper. You discover his mischievous humor and his razor-sharp honesty that all too often cuts through people's egos. More than that, you hit him where it hurts, knowing all too well how to quickly find his vulnerabilities and challenge him over and over again.

And all this while you work your magic in the kitchen and prove yourself to be such a valuable member of the Shambali Order. If he had to find a word for it, it would probably be... impressive. Especially considering how short a time you have known each other. 

"I think that--" Ramattra's sentence is cut short as he looks out the window and thinks his optical receptors have malfunctioned: is that your hair disappearing around the corner into the next alley, with K33N in tow? 

He recalculates. Mistake unlikely.
 

How strange.

"Excuse me, brother..." He rises and grabs his crook, followed by a surprised sound from Zenyatta.

With slow, deliberate movements - as he always does when he is among humans, so nobody gets startled  - Ramattra follows the apparition he believes to be you. Why aren't you in the kitchen? Surely there is enough to do. And what is K33N doing here? What are you doing together in the village? He knows nothing about a possible ingredient purchase that might be on your agenda for the day. So what are you doing here?

The village is quiet on this beautiful day, and by a happy coincidence, Ramattra does not meet anyone on his way to follow you. And even if he did, the hated looks of the people would hardly bother him this time; your appearance here at this time is much too strange. The thought of you sneaking off with K33N to do whatever you want is too much to bear. The burning sensation in his subroutines turns to corrosive acid as he considers the implications of this possibility.
Why are you sneaking off with K33N? Of all people? 

The alley into which your figure has disappeared is narrow and dark. It lies between two larger buildings in the village: the merchant's house and the small town hall. Crates and baskets are stored in this narrow passage, and if he wants to go this way, he will have to walk sideways to fit in at all. 
Nevertheless, his sensors register your scent in the air. The scent he has assigned exclusively to you. 

Yes, you went that way. But why?

With the slightest hesitation, he finally decides to follow. Into the shadows and away from the road that leads through the village and then up to the monastery. To chase after this phantom that weighs down his thoughts and pushes them into chaos. It is a magnetic attraction that he does not want to and cannot understand; Ramattra simply needs to know what you are doing here. 

"Is the coast clear?"

"Yeah, looks good. Let's go!" 

Voices. One of them is yours, just around the next corner. And K33N. 
Just a few steps, then Ramattra will leave the shadow of the alley and this thirst for knowledge, this curiosity will be satisfied - but does he really want to? What if he doesn't like the answer? 

Nonsense, he scolds himself. There is no reason for me to be upset about a possible romantic relationship between you and K33N. 

A control routine notes that this is, in fact, not true - but he immediately classifies this as unimportant and pushes the control routine to the background of his processes. Whatever it is you are doing, he will deal with it in a perfectly regulated and reasonable manner.

He still wants to know, though. 

But as soon as he steps out of the alley, his processor power spikes uncomfortably under the sudden burst of emotions - and even the shocked expression on your face can't stop him from raising his voice:

"What the hell are you two doing?!"

 

Chapter 13: Seven minutes in heaven

Notes:

last chapter's cliffhanger was a bit mean so hehe.. here you go :]

 

Caught.

With your pants down, so to speak - only figuratively though. Really.  

With your mouth open, you stare at the Ravager, who has appeared out of nowhere from the alley behind you. You, on the other hand, are already sitting on the wall surrounding the merchant's warehouse. One leg is already on the other side, while K33N still has his hands folded from the boost he gave you to help you climb. 

And it is obvious that Ramattra is as surprised as he is irritated by this action. 

"Hey, Ram," K33N chirps. "Would you mind talking a little quieter? We don't want to get caught."

This pulls a wry smile out of you, for one thing is clear: the Ravager is not impressed. 

"What are you two doing?" he repeats, taking a step closer. There is a definite note of anger in his voice, and it is not lost on you. Admittedly, you can't entirely blame him for being angry. It is painfully obvious what you and K33N are doing here. 

"Breaking into the village's grocery store? Have you gone crazy?" Ramattra doesn't even wait for an answer, instead pointing his staff at you. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Well, what do you think!" you hiss angrily, shifting your butt back and forth on the wall. It's quite uncomfortable to sit here, but snapping at the Omnic is something you'd never miss out on. "I need food and this bastard won't sell me rice at the normal price!"

"And that's why you broke into his house?"

"I'm desperate!"

"Obviously, and that desperation is clouding your logical thinking-"

"Ohh, then you think of something better!!"

K33N sighs at the sight of your bickering and leans against the wall behind him. 

"That's enough, okay?" he interjects. "If you keep fighting like this, we're going to get caught. I don't really feel like it." 

Ramattra's fans hiss angrily. "You're helping them break in. So I think your assessment of the situation is inappropriate."

"Whatever." You swing the second leg over the wall and land on the floor with a thud. Behind the merchant's shop, in the backyard, are many crates and clay pots of food; it is an open warehouse of sorts. A small shed to the left probably holds more goods or some gardening tools, but what you are looking for is at the back door of the building. 

Rice. 

"And if you get caught?" you hear Ramattra growl insistently from behind the wall. "Your actions are so reckless! Have you ever thought how this would reflect on the monastery?"

"If you keep talking so loudly, we're guaranteed to get caught." K33N is not intimidated at all; he knows how to deal with rough sailors on a small fishing boat and is not easily shaken. Not even by a big Omnic like Ramattra. 

You look around. The owner of the shop doesn't have a dog to protect his goods - lucky you. A disheveled cat brushes past between some crates, not interested in your shenanigans. The area is quiet. No one seems to have noticed the outraged Ravager yet, which is fortunate. Take a deep breath and let's do this.

You don't feel guilty about the impending theft; of course you'll be leaving some money behind! It's only the normal market price for rice, not the exorbitant prices of the merchant dickhead, but it's better than nothing. So you're not really stealing the rice. It's not that bad. Right?

The sack of rice is heavy - it's a big 20-kilo sack that you can only drag along the ground. Lifting it is not an option, at least not for a human being. 

"You must refrain from this undertaking." Suddenly, Ramattra is standing behind you, with an aura of impatience and anger that you are unfamiliar with. Why he is so upset is not necessarily clear to you, but he cannot stop you. This is about fulfilling your duties as a cook, even if the laws and rules have to be bend a little. Sometimes you just have to do what you think is right, regardless of the consequences!

"And you have to mind your own business!" you hiss back, continuing to pull on the sack. "How did you even get in here?"

"There's a garden gate on the other side of the property." 

Oh. Oops. 

He towers over you as if he were the only one in the right here - although he wouldn't understand the nuances of your decision even if you explained it to him. 

"Come on, before we get caught--" His hand grasps your wrist impatiently. Obviously, the Ravager does not want to get caught in the backyard of a village house; that would guarantee some kind of riot. Even as a Shambali monk, he has a reputation as a Ravager, and people here would react accordingly. It's clear that he's getting nervous... Though you didn't invite him to participate in all this in the first place.
 

"We're going to get caught if you don't keep your voice down!" you scold during the tug-of-war with the rice sack - when the soft click of the back door makes you both look up. 

"Oh, shit!" The sack of rice immediately falls out of your hands. "Oh, no, no, no!" 

Before the door opens, you are suddenly grabbed by the collar and pulled backwards. Your feet trip over each other, but the backward momentum keeps pulling you backwards until you finally land in Ramattra's arms and the door to the small wooden shed closes behind you. 

Metal presses against your back while a cold, hard hand is placed on your shoulder.

"You drive me crazy with your impulsive actions! Absolutely irresponsible!" Ramattra whispers behind you. His voice is so low that the vibration of his chassis echoes down your spine; it feels like the soft purr of a cat. Or in this case, the growl of an angry tiger. 

"If you hadn't interfered, we wouldn't have this problem!" Turning around in the small shed is a real challenge with this giant Omnic at your side - and all the garden tools stored inside. Giving up is not an option, however, as glaring at Ramattra is probably the only way to convey the intensity of your anger. 

Outside, you can hear a clattering and a soft cursing that makes you both fall silent. You can hear the merchant muttering something and secretly send a prayer to Iris that he doesn't need a spade or a rake. So you involuntarily hold your breath, but that doesn't stop you from continuing to glare angrily at your opponent. 

"What's wrong with you?!" he angrily whispers to you. So softly that the merchant can't hear him outside the shed - but you can hear him all too well. "You are not behaving as a member of the Shambali Order should!"

"That is not for you to judge!" you reply, no less angrily. "It may be that judging humans is one of your hobbies, but--!" 

His fans hiss dangerously. "Don't accuse me of being prejudiced-"

"Hah! You are prejudice itself!"

A loud clattering outside the shack makes you fall silent. The merchant seems to be putting away some boxes, leaving you to stare at each other angrily. The red lights almost hurt your eyes. Are you mistaken, or are they shining brighter than usual?

Damn, why is this place so small? When there's space between the two of you, it's much easier to argue; right now, it's hard to focus on being angry. His chest touches your body, transferring the barely perceptible vibration of his machine parts to you. It's definitely a feeling you've never experienced before, absolutely unique. Warm, in a very strange way. 
What's more, or rather much worse, is the fact that this raw mass of Omnic is doing something to you. His stature and size can only be described as extremely attractive. The fact that you are genuinely attracted to this jerk Ramattra is a disaster; this annoyingly serious Omnic is absolutely not the right person for something awkward like a crush. 

The sounds outside the shed fade. He leans down towards you, so close that only a few inches separate his faceplate and your face; you are drowning in red light and there is something hot and urgent in your chest, an impulse you want to follow. 

"You're really driving me crazy..." Neither of you move, but the Ravager's whisper makes you swallow. The impulse grows. 

"Likewise." Damn, has your mouth always been this dry? And what's up with the tingling in your throat?

 

"Hey, you two." K33N opens the door to the shed, the sack of rice slung over his shoulder. "Oh. Should I close the door again, or...?" 

Immediately, there is space between you again, filled only with empty air and a very strange tension. By the Iris-- embarrassing. Especially the thing you almost did. But, um - would the Ravager have let you kiss him? Did you really want to, or was it just the adrenaline and the nervousness of being discovered? Suddenly, the whole situation seems so ridiculous and weird. 

"The merchant is gone," K33N continues. "We can go."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." You leave the shed immediately, with an aura of shame and a realization you would rather have avoided. You don't dare look back at the Ravager, instead waving your hand absentmindedly. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need something from me. Dinner prep and all that." 

Go away. Run, if you have to. Just get far, far away from the shed and him. You need to get back to the kitchen - the safe haven you need right now - and as far away from the Ravager as possible, who with his gruff manner opens something in you that should remain closed. The desire for closeness is overwhelming and thunders heavily in your skull - impossible to just push away. This can of worms should stay closed and buried somewhere deep inside lost times.

Focus. You have no time or space for that. As confusing as your feelings for the Omnic may be... it's impossible that this thing has any chance at all.

 

... right?

 

Chapter 14: Vice versa

 

"You stole this food! If this falls back to the monastery, then-" 

"But it won't! No one knows about it - and I even left some money behind!" Your voice is a little louder than you would like, as you stow the 'bought' rice in the kitchen. Ramattra stands in the doorway like a huge, angry cabinet and obviously in a very bad mood. 

"You know what will happen!" he continues. "People are just looking for a reason to question us - and you're giving them one!"

"I'm not giving them shit! I do my job, that's all. I make sure everyone here gets fed."

The Ravager snorts derisively and steps out the doorway and into the kitchen. He brings with him an aura that seems almost electrically charged; his anger drips like tar from every opening in his chassis.  

"You're endangering every Omnic here because you can't escape this strange obsession with your position in this monastery. Your delusions will have dire consequences for the entire community!"

"You have no idea what it's like to be hungry!" Anger burns hot in your throat as you take a step toward the Ravager. You should pull yourself together and not confront him like this, after all, he's kind of right - but this irrational fog just obscures everything. The rage is everywhere in this room, and it is powerful - more powerful than you. "You are an Omnic, Ramattra! You have no idea what it's like--"

"No, you have no idea!" he replies, no less angry, stepping toward you as well. "You have no idea what it's like to be an Omnic in this world! A world created by your kind; for your kind."

You have never heard his voice so full of disgust and hatred. Suppressed anger seeps from his vents as he comes closer to you. The size of his body pushes you further back until you have no room to move in the small kitchen and your back hits the countertop behind you. The porcelain bowls on the shelf behind you rattle softly, accompanying the quivering anxiety that spreads through your bones. 

"My kind is not wanted," he continues. "Ravagers like me are being exterminated. You were hungry as a child, but I was hunted thousands of miles around the globe to be killed for something I did without my consent. We are not the same." 

You swallow. A very old fear crawls up your spine; memories burned into your brain. A destroyed building and the smell of open fires and melted plastic burning in your nose. Someone screams, somewhere. Your back hurts, as does your thigh. You are trapped under the rubble of a destroyed building, unable to move. And there is a Ravager bending over you. Red lights.

"I see the fear in your eyes," he growls softly. "And it tells me that you are just like the rest of them." 

Your body doesn't move, as if it was made of stone. All you can do is drown in the red light of his faceplate and get lost in that endless hole where the bad memories wait for you. 
Since there is no reaction, the Omnic turns away from you with an angry snort of his fans and leaves the kitchen. But the anger remains in the room, where you still stand petrified, trying to control the flood of thoughts and memories. 

That bastard. He thinks he's better than everyone else. Unfortunately, he's kind of right; doing bad things always asks for dire consequences - but what's done is done. And if push came to shove, you'd probably do it again.

"May I come in?" It takes a moment for your brain to fully comprehend the question, but then you look up from the old tiles on the floor. 

Zenyatta stands in the doorway. 

"Oh, yeah, sure," you invite him in and start washing the rice for dinner - just to keep your shaky hands busy. "Hi, Zen." 

The Omnic saunters into the kitchen, circles the low table in the middle, and looks at the freshly opened sack of rice. He is not stupid and of course knows that the missing rice did not just fall from the sky. 

"Brother Ramattra seems very upset," he says nonchalantly. "And I couldn't help overhearing some parts of your rather loud argument." 

You sigh. "Was it really that loud?"

"With luck, only half the monastery heard it," he jokes, but that's not going to cheer you up right now. So instead, Zen sets about helping you prepare the food. He sits down at the table where the giant Ravager has been sitting every day for the past week and begins to peel and chop the carrots and onions for the stew. 

It takes you a few minutes to find enough words to start a conversation, then you sigh quietly and stop washing the rice.

"Has he always been like this?" you finally ask. "So narrow-minded and so determined that his views are the right ones? And has he always been a little bit of a bastard, while we're at it?" 

Zen makes a thoughtful noise in his chest. "I have to admit, he has always been a little... eager to make his views clear."

"So- yes? He's always been like that?"

"It's gotten a lot better lately."

An indirect yes is still a yes, and you feel vindicated in your image of the Ravager who can be such an obnoxious jerk. To your surprise, however, Zenyatta pauses in his movements and seems to be thinking about your question. 

"Ramattra came to the monastery before me," he finally says. Something about the usually jovial Omnic remains in the shadows; his voice sounds sad and serious. How unusual to see him like this. "But Yasha told me what he was like when he was taken in by Master Mondatta."

Your hands grab the dented teapot on the stove and fill it with water. This seems to be a story that calls for tea. 

"I don't want to overstep any boundaries," he continues. "So I'll just tell you what I heard from Yasha. Not what Brother Ramattra told me in confidence." 

You nod and put the water on the gas stove, which ignites with a click. 

"He was very lost when he arrived here at the monastery. With many defects from the long journey and the people who demanded revenge for their losses. Revenge on the Omnics, who had no say in their role in the crisis. Ramattra was confused and angry about everything - understandably so." Zenyatta sighs softly. "The confusion after awakening is something that cannot be compared to anything. It's like a dark fog that suddenly lifts to reveal a whole new world. A world full of dangers, but also so many, almost endless possibilities for development. Suddenly, we Omnics could decide for ourselves." 

"That... must be a lot to take in at once," you agree, placing two cups on the table. "How did it make you feel?"

"It was challenging," he admits. "To suddenly be so... so much. A kaleidoscope unfolding a thousand times. A pile of fragments that want to be put together, to become whole. Many of us felt very lost at the time, including Brother Ramattra."

The old metal tea caddy rattles when you open the lid. The experience must have been terrible for the Omnics. Waking up from a deep slumber while killing innocent humans.

"It took him almost two years to settle in here at the monastery. Although, from the very beginning he sought contact with the humans, much to Master Mondatta's delight - but unfortunately this enthusiasm gradually faded. Ramattra became more and more withdrawn from almost everything, not just the people. Even Master Mondatta found him less open and more brooding. My brother always fulfilled his duties, but beyond that he became a closed book."

The water is boiling and the kettle makes a loud whistling sound to let you know; you take it off the stove with a towel to keep the heat away from your skin. Once the water stops bubbling wildly, you pour it into the small teapot, which already has some chipped porcelain, and put the lid on. It smells wonderful.

"He really is very mysterious," you agree. "Why has he changed so much in his time here?"

Zenyatta thinks for a moment. "I think it's because of his pilgrimages," he says finally. "That's how we met. He tried to spread the message of the monastery everywhere, the message of a shared future where humans and Omnics could live together in peace. But he saw much suffering on those journeys, as I have on mine."

"But you're not like him," you murmur, pouring the tea into the two cups. Zen accepts his with a grateful nod. "You're... easier to get along with than he is." 

"Very diplomatically put," the monk replies. "I think it's probably because of our models. I'm a very ordinary model, made for everyday tasks - but Ravagers were designed by Anubis for war. He came into this world as a killing machine and is still treated as such."

Unfortunately, that is true. When human newcomers arrive here at the monastery, they are often frightened at first by the sight of the Ravager. You, too, can remember the day you arrived here; the terror that the giant Omnic caused you. All the horrible memories of the Omnic Crisis came crashing down, memories of this terrible war that seemed to never end. The fact that he reminds every human of that time must be a heavy burden. 

"Still, that's no reason to be such an asshole," you snort, sipping your hot tea. "Even if he's not completely wrong about our fight. But sometimes you just have to start and take things into your own hands."

"Mhh." Zenyatta stares into his tea, weighing his next words very carefully. "Maybe you see it that way - but those words can be a useful argument for any motivation, regardless of the moral compass behind it. Have you ever thought about it?"

"What?"

"That you're in the wrong here?" 

You look at him, without any words on your tongue. To be honest, you hadn't thought about it that way. That you are wrong - no ifs ands buts, simply wrong - and Ramattra is right.

Notes:

I had to step back from this fanfic for a few weeks because the OW fandom can be really annoying sometimes and I had to block a small handful of people. I went outside and touched grass, now it's back on :')

Chapter 15: Backfired

 

Focus. 

Concentration and stillness. 

Ramattra can feel his system working, even though he should be floating in a gentle state of emptiness during this meditation. Not that he has ever been able to do this before, but today even the attempt at transcendence is extremely difficult for him. 

Focus. 

For a moment, his processing power slows down and he relaxes, but then it spikes up again as he thinks about this extremely unpleasant day. Several hours have passed since your argument in the kitchen, but he still can't stop thinking about it. His mind keeps going back to the escalation, the yelling and how angry he is with you. 
Every time he sorts his systems by priority, they pop up again on their own; some very deep subroutine whispers in the background, reminding him once again that you behaved like an idiot. This sour feeling just won't go away, no matter how hard he tries. 

You committed an irresponsible act. Someone who has never been in the position of an Omnic simply can't understand this. You, a human, will never know what it's like being in his position. Though he strives for peace and unity between Omnic and human, something lurks in the shadows of his past.

Doubt. 

If someone as passionate as you can't understand the suffering of his people, how can he expect less compassionate and open-minded humans to do so?

Ramattra sighs and gives up. No meditation tonight.

A night breeze blows through the open window into his room, moving the cloth hanging on the wall. Ancient relics from the time before the Omnics that he found in the cellar of the monastery. Hand-woven tapestries with animals and flowers immortalized on them, with small figures representing people. They form small groups, harvest the crops and pray together. Communities immortalized in fiber. 

Will there ever be such tapestries for Omnics? When the time of war and enmity is over? 

Will it ever be over?

With a deep sound of dissatisfaction, he finally gets up from the ground and rolls his shoulder. The joint has been bothering him for several weeks, and a quick diagnosis reveals delayed feedback in his external hydraulics. Great, another problem. The Ravager is definitely not going to the village mechanic - so he will have to ask Zenyatta to take a look at this hard-to-reach spot. 

But not today. He's not in the mood for company right now, he's in the mood for solitude. Even the otherwise very pleasant company of his brother would be an imposition on his irritable nerves at this moment. What he needs is silence. If he could, he would lock himself in the cellar-vault of the monastery so that no one gets the chance to disturb him. But that is, unfortunately, not in keeping with the communal spirit desired here.

The archive. He didn't have a chance to go through the new documents since he began his kitchen duties a week ago. Shortly before he started his new job under your reign of terror, a chest full of documents had been found: records of the human monks who had lived within these walls. There were notes, daily thoughts, and diaries, and now they had to be sorted. Important philosophies and unimportant notes had to be filed separately - a lot can be learned about the way the old monks thought.

What's more, it's very rare to find so many documents in an old monastery. It is a truly exciting find that has attracted interest from all over the world: Once the contents of the archive are fully digitized, they will be made available to researchers and archaeologists around the world. What an exciting task to work on!

And yet, he's stuck with you.

Ramattra pauses at the door to his room. After a moment's thought, he leaves the shepherd's crook leaning against the wall and heads for the cellar-vault. Maybe he can take a look at the documents anyway. Processing new data always helps him to focus - and to keep the emotions boiling inside him in check. 

What about tomorrow though? Will he have to go back to the kitchen with you?

Well, he doesn't want to. It's too likely that you'll clash again. The wound his anger has cut into his system is too fresh, still bleeding into his thoughts. Just thinking about you raises his core temperature slightly: a physical reaction to the insolence you've shown today. Stealing and then acting as if you were no danger to the Omnics here in the monastery! And... being so close to you in that damned little shed, that's the icing on the cake. Way too close.

However, he can't accuse you of lacking courage, much to his own displeasure. You may have some very noble character traits, but whether they can outweigh the bad ones remains doubtful.

On his way down to the vaults, he hears soft voices coming from the heart of the monastery, where the glowing image of Aurora shines. Only a few Omnics are still sitting there, meditating; it is a quiet night. Most humans are already asleep, and their brothers and sisters use this time to rest and maintain their systems. Another reason why Ramattra prefers the night to the day. Peace and quiet. 

He pauses at the entrance to the room. Master Mondatta is standing a little apart from the monks, deep in conversation with Yasha. They are talking quietly about seemingly important things, but without too much worry on their faces. Organizational matters are sometimes better to be discussed at night, the Ravager thinks. And Yasha is often found down here at night as well; she doesn't seem to sleep much. He knows from hearsay that she's been suffering from insomnia since the death of her daughter in the Crisis. Another invisible scar, of which there are more than enough in this monastery. 

"Ah, Brother Ramattra." Modatta has noticed him and waves him over. With a brief hesitation, the Ravager considers that he actually wanted to be alone in the archive. Just him and the old scrolls to be maintained and sorted. 

"Master Mondatta." He decides to follow the invitation and enters the prayer room. "Yasha."

"Hello, Ramattra," she greets him with a warm smile, bowing her head slightly. "Up late as usual?"

He nods in confirmation. "It's been a long day, and I wanted to seek some clarity in the isolation of the archive."

"Ah, of course." Mondatta's voice is warm and understanding, if a little amused. "Catching up on lost time in the archives, hm? Your passion for the writings is most commendable." 

"I-- Thank you, Master." His inner irritation almost causes the Ravager to take the gentle amusement in Mondatta's voice personally, but he can barely prevent that misjudgment. Master Mondatta would never mock him, not in a million years. "I look forward to working in the archives again." 

"Most certainly." 

"Are you enjoying your work in the kitchen?" Yasha asks politely. "I often hear from our brothers and sisters that they enjoy the time they spend preparing our meals." 

Ramattra's system stops briefly before he answers. He is unsure: should he betray you to them? Tell them what you did today and how careless it was? They would surely be angry with you and reprimand you, maybe even expel you from the monastery. That would prove that he's in the right. And then... you would be gone. 

Gone. 

"It's... interesting," he finally says. "I'm learning a lot from our cook. Even if the kitchen itself is too small for an Omnic of my size."

Yasha laughs heartily at this answer, along with an amused chuckle from Mondatta.

"I'm glad you two are getting along so well," the Shambali leader says, and he means it. Ramattra is immediately humbled by this sincere delight in his progress; he respects Mondatta too much to lie so shamelessly to his face. 

"Actually, it's- not--" he blurts out, earning surprised looks from the two leaders. "While I'm learning a lot, I have to admit that our personalities often clash. And sometimes it escalates a bit, into arguments." 

"I see." Mondatta strokes his robe thoughtfully and sorts himself out for a moment. Yasha politely stays out of this part of the conversation, knowing that Ramattra will not place too much value on her advice. "I think there are ways to work on that, Brother."

Anything but that. Please.


"I don't think that's necessary, Master," the Ravager tries to interject immediately. "Once the cook and I have some distance between us, we'll be perfectly capable of being civil to each other. There's no need for action--"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," Mondatta brushes his objection aside. "I'm sure a guided talk can help you both settle your differences."

"Master," Ramattra begins again, almost desperately - why did he have to blurt out the truth like that! Why couldn't he just tell Mondatta the juicy lie that the two of you get along perfectly? The best of friends in that stupid, small kitchen?

"Don't worry, Brother." The wise monk puts a hand on his shoulder. It feels like a heavy weight.  "I know you don't shy away from confrontation, and so do they. Together we will find an ideal solution to this resentment between the two of you, and then your work in the kitchen will be easier. You will get along just fine, I know it."

Oh, by the Iris... That's the last thing the Ravager wants.

Notes:

As always, thank you for your patience! Since I am currently working as a freelance artist again and have a game jam coming up in September, there may be delays in the chapters. But of course I will try not to let up and continue to update regularly :]

Chapter 16: Repercussions

Notes:

I got so mad that we're not getting the Anubis Mythic skin for Ramattra in Season 12 that I had to write a new chapter to calm down. :/

 

He's not coming.
 

You're preparing breakfast as usual at five in the morning. The kitchen is empty and quiet except for you; carrying the bowls and cutlery into the common room yourself. No, Yasha hasn't seen Ramattra today. Of course you know why he ignores his duties, but you don't know why Yasha gives you a brief but promising glance. 

The morning passes as you prepare dumplings filled with mushrooms and herbs. The weather accompanies your gloomy mood with a light drizzle and a cool wind that whistles through the cracks of the old monastery. 

The argument with the Ravager has left a deep wound: The fear that gripped you as that giant Omnic bent over you still sits like an eerie shadow on your neck. An unpleasant tingling makes you nervous and shaky, careless and clumsy. You've already dropped two bowls today, and the shards now sit in a neat little pile in the corner until you find the time to wrap them up in some paper and throw them away. 

You're not really afraid of him. It's more the memory that puts your body in a state of high tension and reminds you to be careful. This is not an isolated case, no, on the contrary: after the Crisis, there were tens of thousands of people who suffered from severe aftereffects. People like you, who grew up as children amidst the aftershocks of the Crisis, were sometimes the hardest hit. Growing up in cramped, dangerous shelters, without regular access to food and a warm blanket. You struggled through it, but it certainly didn't leave you unscathed. 

Is it the same for Omnics though? Zenyatta told you that many of them were lost and confused after the Crisis - but do Omnics have similar symptoms and illnesses to humans? Nightmares, panic attacks, insomnia?

Ramattra seemed very agitated yesterday. Especially when he talked about being persecuted by humans. No, you can't understand what he has experienced since his awakening. But then again, he can't understand the urgent need for food either. He'll never know what it is like to fight for a piece of moldy bread while starving to death. 

A few hours later, a glance at the clock tells you that it's time to get the dishes back from lunch. Although the monks wash their own dishes, you have to carry them all. That's several trips, loaded with a few kilos of bowls and cutlery - to be honest, it was good to have the Ravager in the kitchen for that. He did make your job a little easier.

"Hellooo!" Aria bursts through the door with a cheerful sing-song voice that makes your jittery nerves explode. With a loud rattling noise, the old teapot falls from your hands and bounces across the floor. The lid - already dented - rolls under the table and stays there while you pick up the teapot, gritting your teeth. 

"Hi, Aria," you greet the lively Omnic weakly. Heart pounding, you place the teapot on the table and pick up the lid, your hands shaking. "You scared me."

"Oh no, I'm sorry!" she immediately assures you. "That wasn't my intention." 

"I know, I know... It's fine." More than a faint smile is not possible. That has to be enough. "What's up?"

"Oh, yeah..." She waves you over. "Master Mondatta asked to see you."

"Mondatta?" What could he want? Wait - did Ramattra rat you out?! "Did he, uh, say why he wanted to see me?" 

"Nope."

"Oh... okay." Oh no. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now." 

You can barely hold back a sigh. This is bad, very bad. What if Mondatta throws you out? And you have to leave the monastery forever? That would be... disastrous. Leaving this sanctuary would mean your death. Sure, you might make it in the big wide world, but spiritually that would be the worst case. Without your friends - Aria, K33N, Zenyatta - you would be so lonely that it would probably kill you. Because the only thing that can hurt someone with inner walls as high as yours is loneliness. 

"Hey, can you take the dishes back to the kitchen with some others?" you ask Aria. "Ramattra's not here today and otherwise the schedule will be all messed up."

"Sure!" Aria salutes and immediately goes to get some monks to help. As always, she has a bouncy step full of joy, in stark contrast to you. Your stomach feels like it's filled with lead, a weight trying to press you to the ground. Apparently, all you can hope for is a slap on the wrist. Perhaps a lecture on responsible behavior from Mondatta and strict punishment from Yasha. Weeding the gardens for the next season all on your own or scrubbing the monastery from top to bottom with a toothbrush. 

Nevertheless: All the people in the monastery are cared for. Nobody's hungry, and you've done your duty. Whatever punishment awaits you, you must take responsibility for it and accept it with your head held high. 

 

* * *

 

"Master Mondatta, you wanted to see me?" 

The leader of the Shambali monks is waiting outside one of the rarely used meditation rooms, his hands folded and as relaxed as one can be in this life. There is no sign of anger or disappointment in his posture.

"Ah, right on time." He greets you as kindly as ever. "Brother Ramattra is already here. He told me about your quarrels and I offered to help."

... huh?

Mondatta leads you into the room. It is a room with stone walls and a row of candles on the wall, like so many of the meditation rooms in the monastery. Here you can seek isolation, peace and quiet while meditating; when the thoughts get so loud that only solitude can help. If you have nowhere to run to escape your inner terror, then this is the place. 

There is only a small window on the wall opposite the door, so the room is dim and lit only by the candles - and the red light of the Ravager, who sits cross-legged on a prayer mat, barely noticing you entering the room. 

"A guided conversation can help when two parties are unable to reach a solution," Mondatta says as he gestures for you to sit across from Ramattra. With reluctance in every fiber of your body, you obey the leader of the Shambali, even though you can barely swallow the anger in your throat. Your gaze meets the Omnic opposite, who averts his face slightly from you. It seems to be his fault, the way he avoids looking at you.
 

Mondatta lights some of the candles, the extra light brightening the room a bit. "Ramattra told me that you argue a lot. He classifies the basic problem as a private matter, so I won't intrude." Your eyebrows rise. So he didn't betray you. "But there are probably problems with empathy between you." 

You chew your lower lip for a moment, then find words. "So he told you that we had a big fight yesterday?"

"Indeed," the Ravager replies. "And Master Mondatta suggested we talk about it. In his presence." Then he leans slightly forward and adds quietly: "Without me being able to do anything about it."

You can't help but roll your eyes - but you can't contradict Mondatta and refuse such a friendly suggestion. It's a matter of respect for the wise monk, who really only wants to help you two. Fine, okay. Mondatta wants a talk? He'll get one!

"Ramattra trivializes the suffering of the humans," you shoot. "After the Crisis. I understand that the Omnics have suffered greatly, but he refuses to understand that we humans have also suffered--'

"You're putting words in my mouth!" he interrupts you harshly. "I was merely pointing out that the experiences you and I have had in our lives are not comparable-"

"This is not a competition!" you interrupt him. "It's so stupid-"

"All right, please!" Mondatta silences both of you with a single gesture, although he has to raise his voice a little. "Please. I can see there is work to be done here." 

You and Ramattra stare at each other, each with a malicious look for the other. The red of the lights on his faceplate is much more urgent and piercing in this dim little room, in stark contrast to the pleasant blue of Mondatta. It stirs the anger in your stomach, which slowly but surely eats its way up to your throat. You want to say things, hurtful things, to this Omnic in front of you, who acts as if he is the only one in the world whose opinion matters. 

Although instead of spitting venom, you remain silent and look at Mondatta.

"You are both passionate about your point of view," he continues. "This is understandable, given your pasts. But such strong emotions are often blinders." 

Or: Ramattra is just being an asshole. 

"There seems to be a very deep problem here." Mondatta makes a thoughtful sound. "And I would ask you to be open to my suggestion."

"Of course, Master." Ramattra agrees, but you can hear the reluctance in his voice. You yourself are not very enthusiastic about what the Shambali leader is about to suggest either, because it is guaranteed to be absolutely nerve-wracking. 

"I would like to suggest that you meditate together," Mondatta says. "Every day, for at least a week - probably longer, considering the intensity of your passionate arguments."

"What? No!" you blurt out, barely able to contain your indignant outcry. "Master Mondatta, I have so much to do in the kitchen--"

"You have Ramattra, your dear kitchen assistant, for - if I'm not mistaken - another three weeks. Together you will be able to handle the hard work and the meditations." 

A panicked look at the Ravager is enough to make him speak up as well. "Master, I don't think this endeavor will bear fruit..."

"You can't possibly know that yet," Mondatta answers with a cheerful tone in his voice. "That's why I'm asking you to try. If you both still have problems with it after a few days, we'll surely find another solution".

Neither of you dares to talk back to him - again, a matter of respect. Mondatta usually knows what he is doing. You have to trust him, whether you like it or not. 

"The best thing is to start right away." Mondatta bows slightly to both of you, a gesture to wish you good luck. "And don't make it too hard on yourself. Half an hour should be enough, for now."

And then... he leaves. He closes the heavy wooden door behind him, leaving you alone with the Ravager. Shit. For a brief moment, all you can hear is the wind howling around the corners of the monastery walls. 

Silence. Just for a second, then...

"This is all your fault!"

"You're one to talk, we're here because of your thievery!"

 

Chapter 17: Better get up and leave

"Your breathing disturbs my concentration."

"The rattling of your fans disturbs my concentration, too."

After a few more minutes of being petty and arguing, you two come to terms with the fact that there is no way out of this misery. So you decide to sit next to each other, each of you lost in your own non-meditation. This practice is something that is extremely difficult for you anyway, and then in the presence of the Ravager... it makes it impossible for you both to concentrate. With the cause of your inner turmoil sitting right next to you, how is one supposed to meditate?

"My fans don't rattle," Ramattra growls.

"Then don't complain about my breathing," you retort, adjusting yourself a bit. The prayer mat is thin, and your human butt is starting to feel the stone floor. The Omnic is lucky, his butt is as hard as the floor. "It's not like I can just- not do it."

"Too bad."

You snort. So this is what it's like when Ramattra gets so angry that he starts picking on you. Apparently, he too has a limit beyond which he will resort to such petty things as quarreling - and, it almost makes you proud, you're probably one of the few who have ever crossed this limit. Unfortunately though, there's no answer to why he's so upset about a sack of rice that wasn't actually stolen. And he's certainly not going to come clean on his own. 

It's rare for him to stoop to something as low as a fight with a human. All this must really be bothering him if he's giving in to his anger so much. Instead of seething quietly, he's happily giving in to the temptation to tell you what he thinks and insisting that he's completely right. And even if you consider that he might be right, the bad mood of both of you makes you unwilling to give in to this possibility. 

Ramattra is as withdrawn as ever, and so are you.

The Omnic can keep dealing you side blows if he wants to, but you'll be damned if you're going to keep fighting over nothing. There are more important things than this trivial back and forth between the two of you: preparing dinner, for example. Has Aria taken the dishes to the kitchen yet? And who is going to fry the turnips in soy sauce? Not to mention that you still want to prepare the new herbal tea blend... So much to do, and yet you're here, stuck with this jerk.

The wind still whistles through the cracks of the monastery, accompanying the silence of the room with a gentle song. It smells like the flames of the candles, along with the dust that has collected in the corners over the years. The air tastes musty and dry, which doesn't help the situation. Your butt hurts, as does your lower back. Quite frankly: this sucks.

And yet... if you listen closely, you can hear the soft humming of Ramattra's body next to yours. It's a deep, rhythmic sound in his chest - is that his heartbeat? Can you compare it to that? This begs the question, can he hear your heartbeat as well?

The more you think about him, the more confusion creeps into the hollow bodies of your anger and frustration. Because if you're honest, you don't want to fight with him forever. It's... kind of fun to have him in the kitchen. And there is this burning curiosity to know more about him. A need to somehow get along with him. What does it sound like when he laughs, you wonder. How do these metal hands feel on the naked skin of a human being?

Yes, you're annoyed with him. But unfortunately, you also like him. Kind of. 

"You know," you finally sigh. "I was just starting to like you."

Ramattra drops the pretense of meditation. He straightens demonstratively and his chest rises slightly, as if taking a deep, frustrated breath. A little warm air escapes from his fans - an exhalation of annoyance from this unique, interesting body. 

"This isn't about who likes who," he replies. "This is about you not thinking about the possible consequences. About what your actions might bring upon my people."

"You keep saying 'your people'. The inhabitants of the monastery are also my people, Omnics included."

"And that's where you're wrong." Ramattra turns to you, and the red lights on his faceplate bore into your eyes. "You refuse to acknowledge the obvious differences that separate humans and Omnics. You don't understand what this is all about."

Resentment and anger tighten your throat for a moment. This narrow-minded bastard thinks you're just a stupid human who does not know how this world works; once again, the Ravager is above everything and everyone!


Arrogant.

"You're the one who's wrong!," you retort heatedly. "I'm well aware of how humans treat Omnics! And I'm doing my best to strengthen the community in this monastery! We should be an example for the rest of the world! And you--" For a moment, your gaze slips into bitter contempt. "Maybe you should start doing the same."

He snorts derisively. "Why, so that I, too, can derive my self-worth from the meager praise of a cooked meal? From the hollow words of a barely filled stomach, for which I work myself half to death? Don't make me laugh."

Enough. That's enough. Enough meditation, enough being locked in a room with that idiot.

"I don't want to see you in my kitchen again!" you hiss at him, bending down slightly. Even though Ramattra is sitting on the floor and you're standing over him, his stature is so huge that you hardly tower over him. He barely needs to look up to face you. "Never again, do you understand me?"

"Master Mondatta-"

"Master Mondatta will know that we meditate together for 30 minutes every day," you continue. "Otherwise, we won't see each other. Bury yourself in the archives for all I care - if anyone asks, I'll say you were a great help to me. And next month, we go our separate ways!"

The Ravager ponders, remains silent for a moment. Then the red lights turn away from you and he nods slightly.

"So be it." 

You exhale. Good.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow for meditation. 2 p.m." Without waiting for an answer, you leave the room, storming out in a fit of frustration. The heavy door slams shut, echoing loudly and ominously in the stone corridors; that Omnic is truly the bane of your existence! He's a bastard, a stubborn ass, and all the other wild insults you can think of right now. The contradiction of wanting to like him and being so angry at him at the same time eats away at every clear thought, so the only thing left to do is to stuff these confusing feelings into a box and bury them at the bottom of the depths of your mind. 

Cook. This will do you good. Prepare a meal and do something to distract yourself. 

Do something to keep yourself from crying. Heavy tears roll down your cheeks, driven by pure frustration over this stupid argument. Over Ramattra, who shows no inclination to give in. Over the fact that you really like him - but the two of you can't get closer. Walls of defense collide as you try to get to know each other a little; it seems impossible to be friends with him. This man, this machine, so arrogant and yet so passionate when it comes to protecting his people. He has so many admirable qualities, and yet he is one of the biggest idiots in this monastery! 

"Jerk," you sniff to yourself, wiping away tears with your sleeve.

"Hey, I-oh." Aria comes up to you just as you leave the main building of the monastery and reach the kitchen. She tilts her head to the side in concern, her blue lights flickering for the fraction of a second. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine," you quickly brush the subject aside. "The dishes?" 

"Everything is in the kitchen. I prepared what I could. Oh, and I was told inform you that the food delivery is coming early this week. Tomorrow morning, at 5 a.m." She hands you a piece of paper with this exact information written on it.

"Earlier?" Why is that? "Hm. Okay - and thanks for your help." 

Aria waves goodbye and disappears into the monastery. You watch her go, still thinking about the delivery. The next date for the delivery of food is still a few days away, so why come up here early? This never happens for a reason: the people who drive the van are not necessarily fans of the monastery. They work for the organization that supplies the Shambali with food, and they do what their boss tells them to do. They usually avoid deliveries for the monastery because, to put it simply: They hate Omnics. 

Tomorrow morning, 5 a.m... How strange. 

But not strange enough to stop you from thinking about Ramattra. It can't be anything too bad that's causing the early delivery, right? 

 

Notes:

everything will be just fine :) [the lie detector beeps]

Chapter 18: Come clarity

 

The sun rises. Ramattra sits in the courtyard and watches as the celestial body slowly creeps over the edge of the mountains. Golden rays bathe the entire monastery in a warm light, welcoming the new day; it is a breathtaking spectacle that he always enjoys witnessing. It calms his troubled emotions and creates a clarity that cannot be achieved in the middle of the day. 

With all the different inhabitants in the monastery, there is a lot going on, especially at this time of year when many pilgrims take advantage of the mild weather to visit the Shambali. Humans and Omnics seeking peace and enlightenment come to the mountains, and the monastery is much busier than during the cold, dark winter months. He genuinely enjoys escaping the hustle and bustle on this quiet, cool morning. 

A few small birds hop around the courtyard, fighting over a few crumbs. They ruffle their feathers and chirp happily, barely noticing Omnic. His place on the monastery wall is in the shadow of the waning night, so his massive body is barely visible - but he has the entire courtyard in view. 

Slowly and deliberately, Ramattra extends his hand and remains in this position. At first the small birds are more hesitant than curious, but then they peck at the metal hand extended to them. They're quite charming creatures, he finds. They feel safe in this monastery because they're often fed crumbs in the morning - by none other than you, of course. This is also shown by the fact that they are well-fed and round. Round little balls of feathers.

Making him quite thoughtful, that's what this quiet morning does to him. Even the reserved Ravager can't help but think more about the last two days. About the fact that his feelings on this matter are getting out of control. His behavior has now become that of an Omnic without rhyme or reason, and he's dismayed to realize that he can no longer control it. This stubbornness stems only in part from concern for his Omnic brothers and sisters; he's ashamed to admit that fear is a guiding hand in this matter. 

The fact that an R-7000 Ravager unit is afraid is actually a contradiction in terms. But there is nothing he can do about it, so Ramattra buries this feeling deep within his processes. Fear is something foreign to his system, not programmed into his core system by Anubis. It is a constantly interfering subroutine that uses up his CPU unnecessarily. He doesn't know what he's afraid of, but it's eating at him, this sour feeling of loss of control. The more control slips through his fingers, the harder he fights to keep it. How do humans deal with such unnecessary feelings in the long run?

A sound makes him look up. Yasha comes into the backyard, her body wrapped in a quilt in these cool morning temperatures. She doesn't see him sitting here, he's too well hidden in his seat in the shadow of the wall. The light from his faceplate is obscured by the climbing plants that gently cling to the wall next to him. This gives the Omnic the opportunity to observe her and avoid conversation. Why is she here?

The middle-aged woman walks to the center of the courtyard and looks around searchingly. Her eyes scan the twilight, clearly looking for something - or rather, someone. For just a split second, he is tempted to offer his help, but then he has to give up his position and the quiet, pleasant morning is gone. So Ramattra remains motionless until Yasha finally turns with a slight click of her tongue and leaves the courtyard without having found what she seems to be looking for. Her expression is worried. But whatever it is that brings her here so early in the day, he's not interested. Today he will avoid the hustle and bustle of the monastery and seek isolation to find his center again. His inner balance has been thrown off since he started working in the kitchen, especially since he began to enjoy your company so much. How... irritating.

* * *

The morning and afternoon pass quickly. Ramattra avoids all contact with others, both human and Omnic. The silence and self-chosen solitude are a blessing after these rather turbulent days. After all these years at Shambali, he knows how to avoid the other monks and create the space he needs: He knows the routines of the monks and deliberately avoids them. He even avoids Zenyatta, who would surely have some good advice for the Ravager. Everyone seems to know exactly how to deal with you! It's so annoying that the mere thought of it forces him to retreat to the farthest corners of the monastery until his mood improves at least a little.

At noon, while sneaking around, he runs into Yasha again, who is still walking around the monastery with a very worried look on her face. She doesn't seem as calm as usual, but somehow... agitated. Shaky. It's not like her at all. 

"Brother Ramattra--" Just as he is about to turn the corner, she stops him with her words. She fiddles nervously with the heavy bracelet on her wrist, then brushes the graying, frizzy hair from her face. "You haven't been in the kitchen today, have you?"

How did she know that?

"No," he answers truthfully. "Today is a day of rest and meditation for me. Why?"

"Oh, it's just..." She pauses for a moment and he realizes that whatever is troubling her is quite serious. Usually she is full of warmth and energy, but now she seems... small. "It may be stupid, I tend to overreact when someone can't be found, you know, since my daughter..." She clears her throat. "Well, it's not that bad, I guess. I just can't find our cook today, that's all." 

Now she has the Ravager's attention.

"I'm sure everything's fine," he reassures the woman. "We had an argument yesterday. They're probably just in a bad mood and avoid everyone today." Just like me, he adds silently. 

Yasha's face lights up a little and she nods gratefully. It's obvious that your absence is reopening very old wounds in the spiritual leader. Wounds that can never be fully forgotten. Even a distant Omnic like the Ravager has no desire to rub salt into those wounds; he knows the silent pursuer of the Crisis, always lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

"Yes, that sounds reasonable," she agrees. Her hand is still on the bracelet, playing nervously with the jade stone embedded in it. "I'm just worried, that's all." 

"I'll ask around, see if anyone's seen them," Ramattra offers - though he has no desire to do so. None at all, because he doesn't want to see you until he's sorted out his feelings. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something." 

She thanks him and he can finally escape this conversation. Something about her obvious concern makes him uncomfortable, but it's hard to put the finger on why that is. It's so thoroughly... human to worry so irrationally. It is a quirk that he would not have given much weight to a short time ago - but now that he is plunged into such conflicts, it seems to strike a nerve. 

Ramattra continues to walk through the corridors with heavy steps, but now a little more deliberate than before. 

He wants to dismiss the fact that Yasha can't find you, but he can't. Usually you can be found somewhere near the kitchen or the gardens, or at least someone knows where you are. Or you leave Aria a note saying when you'll be back. It's not... like you to worry others. The pride with which you boast comes only from the fact that you are absolutely reliable. Then being untraceable doesn't fit the picture. 

"Oh, hey, Ramattra." K33N is coming up the stairs from the depths of the monastery where the meditation chamber and Aurora's legacy are located. "Still mad about the rice?"

Yes, actually. “No. Have you seen our cook?”

"Oh, so you're looking, too. I was just discussing it with Master Mondatta," the fisherman answers, making a thoughtful sound in his metal throat. He rocks back and forth with his hands in his pockets, an expression of carelessness that Ramattra has never really liked. In fact, he doesn't like K33N at all, especially after the stolen rice incident. But you are friends with him, so he puts up with the casual Omnic for your sake. 

"I went to the lake where they sometimes go fishing. They're not there either."

Ramattra realizes something is bothering him when he hears K33N's words. How does K33N know where you go when you need some peace and quiet? Are you going with him, like you did with the Ravager? Was he wrong to assume that your trip to the fishing lake was something special? 

"Breakfast was canceled today too," K33N says thoughtfully. "There was no one in the kitchen."


Well, that's... odd. 


You would never just skip a meal like that.

"I see. Thank you." Ramattra gives K33N a slight nod and heads for the kitchen - but stops at the next corner. No, he won't find you in the kitchen. If everyone else has already looked there, you probably won't be there. But maybe in your room? Maybe - but someone will have already looked there, too, and he doesn't know where your room is anyway. He can ask around, but invading your personal sanctuary feels... wrong. Intimate. 

Maybe you really have retreated into your shell after all the excitement. After the fights you both can't seem to stop having. When you drive him crazy with your stubborn personality, he gets so annoyed with you that he can barely control his own system processes. At the same time, and he'd never admit it out loud, it's a hell of a lot of fun to butt heads with you. It's fun to be in the kitchen with you, and it's pleasant to go fishing together in absolute silence. He doesn't really despise your sense of duty, but he must have something to criticize about you, otherwise he would have to admit that he really, really likes you. 

Ramattra's fans sigh quietly. He has a bad feeling about this. Yasha has been looking for you since 6 a.m. this morning. You disappeared without a trace, before breakfast, which he knows is one of your favorite things of the day. You wouldn't miss something like that on purpose. 

No... something is very wrong here. 

Chapter 19: Away from the light of the sun

Notes:

I'm in the middle of a busy game jam right now, so thank you for being patient! :9

 

"They're not in the village either. Brother Zenyatta has asked the mechanics."

"I see." Mondatta shakes his head thoughtfully. "Aria told me the food delivery was supposed to arrive earlier today - but no goods were delivered, and the money for them is still in the kitchen. The delivery men said they waited for a quarter of an hour and no one came to meet them. So they went back to the village."

Night falls. The sun has already set and the first stars are twinkling in the black night sky - and Ramattra is nervous. It is obvious now that you have disappeared, without a trace, and no one knows where you are. This fact bothers him much more than he thought. It makes it hard to concentrate. Almost impossible, in fact. 

"Yasha is extremely worried. It is very unusual for someone to just disappear from our monastery like that." 

"I will go to the village myself," the Ravager said. "Under the cover of night, I can take my time to look around." 

"Hm, yes. A good idea," Mondatta agrees. After a short pause, he sighs. "Aurora may forgive me, but I'm glad it's not an Omnic who's gone missing."

"Master?"

"I know it's a terrible thing to say," he answers quietly. "But this incident reminds me of the unfortunate situation two years ago." 

Margo. An Omnic who wandered out of the monastery and into the hands of an anti-Omnic hate group. He didn't survive the encounter - it was a terrible time that left very deep wounds in Shambali. It was grist to the mill for all sorts of politicians around the world, as well as for every news channel that wanted to exploit this tragedy for their own ends. A time that especially fed the rage in the Ravager; the seed of cold hatred that continues to eat away at his systems like a weed. 

"You think so... In the hope that things will be better for a human," the Ravager finishes the Master's unspoken sentence. "I... understand."

Not even Master Mondatta himself is above the problems caused by the coexistence of humans and Omnics. He is a clear advocate of harmony, but he is also realistic enough to see the other side of the coin. A missing Omnic is in more danger than a human - at least when it comes to local anti-omnic organizations. Especially in recent years, when hostilities have increased and peace talks are needed more than ever. He's not wrong, but that doesn't assuage Ramattra's concerns. 

"I can't deny my concern," Mondatta continues. "And I hope this will all end well."  

 

 

---

 

It is dark. A radio is blaring muffled music in the background somewhere. The reception is poor and the sound is scratchy - lulling you into a world that is not real. Dizziness keeps throwing your mind into a downward spiral of unconsciousness and the heat of rage simmering inside you. Outrage, hot and white, coupled with the headache of a head wound caused by a blunt blow to the temple, makes this situation even worse. It's a back and forth between the throbbing of your own pulse in your skull and the desperate struggle to stay calm. Add to that the musty, moldy air in this room and the nagging thirst that burns in your throat. 

This is some damned bullshit. 

In the darkness of the room, you can barely see the shelves of goods. The chair in this small room is uncomfortable and obviously not made for long-term hostages. The ropes that cut into your arms don't help either. Cheap ropes made of flax; only moderately strong, but all the more merciless with the delicate skin of your arms. 

The early delivery. The unknown delivery men getting out of the van; a blow to the head and several rough hands forcing you into the back of the van. After that it's just a mixture of darkness, the disgusting smell of sweat and rough voices murmuring excitedly. 

You look around. 

In the pale light shining from under the closed door, you can see boxes, jugs and old iron shelves. A warehouse, and you can guess who owns it: that lousy, slimy merchant has obviously hired thugs to take revenge for the theft. How does he even know it was you? 

"It's not possible before tomorrow morning," you hear a dull voice behind the closed door to the main part of the house - the shop itself. The door is made of solid wood and much too thick for you to make out the owner of the voice - but at least you have a rough idea of what is being said. "A move like this takes a lot more organization than you might think." 

"I don't see what's so hard about it! Pack up the thieving magpie and disappear with them into the night! That way you'll have one more sympathizer for your 'whatever-you're-doing-with-them' and I'll have one less problem!"

"What do you think we are? Amateurs?" There's a short rumble and a muffled curse - probably from the shopkeeper, judging by the voice. "She's one of the Shambali - precautions must be taken. Those idiots at the UN are breathing down our necks anyway, so close to the first peace talks in years." 

"Tomorrow morning, then," the shopkeeper growls, his voice muffled. "But before sunrise, because this is risky enough as it is."

"You hired us, so don't blow it. We'll come back for the collection in the morning. Until then, keep your head down." 

Collection. They want to get you out of here, away from the monastery and away from Shambali. Obviously, the shopkeeper has hired reinforcements from one of the many organizations that hunt down Omnics and their allies. There are dangerous people in these organizations, people who are not afraid to use violence to get their way.

You're in big trouble. How do you get out of here now? 

Your arms are tied behind your back and your legs are also tied to the chair. Behind you is a shelf full of old paint cans, frayed paintbrushes, and all kinds of scrap metal in old toolboxes. It smells of rust and chemicals - is this where the shopkeeper keeps his goods? It's not very hygienic, and the smell is adding to your already unbearable headache. Your fingertips feel carefully around the shelf behind you. Although you can't reach very far, maybe there's something here that can help. All thoughts now revolve around getting out of this chair and sneaking out - if necessary, breaking a window and crawling out through the broken glass. The most important thing is to get back to the monastery!

You fumble around some more. A wrench, a light bulb, what looks like old cables... useless junk. Nothing to help you escape. Shit.

The door to the storage room opens with a loud click and squeak. The shop owner enters the room with a flood of yellow light, while you stare at your knees and dare not look at him, for then a flood of curses would come out of your mouth, and you'dd be in even more trouble. Better to keep your head down, even though the anger is boiling inside you and it is getting harder and harder to control your emotions. Something inside you wants to strike back, to fight and give this man what he deserves!

"Thieving magpie," the shopkeeper growls as he fiddles with the side of the chair. "Soon I'll be rid of you and your bullshit."

"Fuck you," you hiss through gritted teeth, only to regret it seconds later when he slams the back of your head violently into the shelf. Stars explode before your eyes, along with a deep roar that momentarily displaces the entire world. The violent throbbing in your temples becomes an iron rhythm that alternates with your erratic, short breaths; all that while the anger bubbles like a thick soup, ready to explode. 

I want to hurt him.

"You'll spend the night in the shed," he grunts, watching you suck in the air sharply between clenched teeth. "And starting tomorrow, you're not my problem anymore. Now behave, or I'll teach you to sing."

Gritting your teeth, you allow yourself to be pulled from the chair into a shaky but standing position. His rough grip on your upper arm is vice-like and in danger of leaving bruises; another thing you mentally add to the list of things you want to get back at the bastard for. That is, assuming you make it out of here and don't get shipped off to God knows where by some mysterious, omnicidal organization. 

"And don't try anything." He cuts the ropes binding your legs to the rickety chair with a box cutter. "Or you'll regret it." The rusty blade of the box cutter hovers menacingly under your nose for a second, then he turns to unlock the door to the backyard. A set of keys jingles in his hand as you stare at his back with burning eyes.

Your hands are still tied behind your back, but the rope has loosened slightly from the movement. If only you had a sharp object now, then... 

Oh, what the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides, the bastard deserves it, doesn't he?

As soon as the shopkeeper turns back to you, you ram your foot into his groin so hard that it squeezes the air out of his lungs. The man collapses like a jackknife, and with a muffled groan, he falls to the ground. The satisfaction gives you courage and with shaky knees you quickly crouch down and grab the rusty box cutter. It only takes a few seconds for the blade to cut the ropes around your wrist and sweet freedom is yours again. 

The feeling of triumph is present in the plastic handle of the box cutter, along with the wild scream of the emotions raging inside you. Survival has become second nature since the days of the Omnic Crisis, and the familiar heart pounding is back; the power to prevail and escape from a sticky situation.

A hand grabs your ankle as you take your first step toward the front of the store; the shopkeeper pulls on your leg, causing you to trip and fall flat on your face on the old tile floor. The force of the impact knocks the air out of your lungs and the knife out of your hand; it jumps across the floor and under one of the shelves as the panting, groaning man climbs over you. The stench of his sweaty shirt burns your nostrils as the weight of this disgusting man blows a fuse in your brain. 

Something clicks, something inside you loosens and lets your emotions run wild. 

Your fingertips barely reach the box cutter and pull it toward you as you turn and look up at a face distorted with pain and bright red. He grabs your throat and starts to squeeze, but your bloodlust is faster than his; and with a loud, creaking sound, you push the blade of the box cutter out of its plastic shell. It flashes in the dim light of the open door and then hits its target. Soft flesh is no match for the sharp metal, and even in your dizzy intoxication you feel the tissue give way to the attack and be sliced open. Something warm hits your face: blood spurts in a violent gush from the wound in the neck of the man above you, who screams in horror and throws himself backward. 
His trembling hand presses against the side of his neck where you cut him, blood flowing between his fingers and dripping onto his shirt as his eyes widen in panic. The box cutter in your hand trembles, ready to strike again, but your brain tells you to flee.

With a clatter, the knife falls to the floor and you jump up, shaking, and begin to run. There is only a small light on in the shop, but it is enough to illuminate your path to freedom in a warm gold. The shop door is locked and you jerk it violently, but it does not give way - the keys are still in the storeroom. The bunch of keys that used to jingle in their owner's hand. For a silent second, you consider going back to get the keys... but something inside you resists. He is bleeding quite badly. What if you killed him? 

The back door is open. He unlocked it. It's the only way out. 

When you turn around, the door to the storage room appears to be an endless black abyss with no light in it; it's a void that you usually only see in horror movies. A hole you have to go back into to regain your freedom. 

You wipe the blood from your face with your hand. The metallic smell fuels the nausea building in your stomach and reinforces what you already know: there is no other way out. You have to get past this bastard. The box cutter is still in there. Fuck. 

"Pull yourself together," you hiss to yourself, swallowing against the sour taste in your mouth. "You've been through worse."

Shaky legs carry you back to the storeroom, where you stop in front of the door. Silence. No sound breaks the heavy, oppressive silence around you. Only a small puddle of blood makes its way across the dirty tiles, crawling towards you with an ominous truth you are simply not ready to hear.

A clay jug wrapped in a dusty old cloth makes short work of one of the windows. The clatter of the shards is loud and sure to attract attention, so you quickly climb through the broken window. The shards still stuck in the frame cut your clothes and forearms, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters right now, as the sweet night air promises freedom and relief from this terrible thing you just did. 

The earth crunches under the soles of your shoes as you stumble around the corner of the shop and into the darkness. There is no one on the street at this hour, though there is still light in some windows. No one looks outside, no one cares to check what that loud noise was. No one cares what happens here. No one cares about you.
The shadows of the side streets swallow you up and carry you on, into the gentle arms of the night, until the path up to the monastery is not far away. 

I want to go home. 

Your brain begins to break down the excitement and adrenaline. The anger gives way to a yawning emptiness and drives you on, on and on, even though your head hurts terribly and your knees are weak as jelly. Blood on your face and fresh wounds on your forearms. Things are bad right now.

I want to go back to my kitchen. To my friends.

I want to go back to...

"Unfh-" It's hard to find your way in the darkness; when you finally hit something very soft, yet hard. Your face hits fabric, under which metal and hydraulics can be felt, moving as the Omnic turns to face you. What monk sneaks around here at night, in the farthest corners of the village? Tall stature and such piercing, red lights on the faceplate - is it...? "Ramattra!" 

 

Chapter 20: To find you here, so deep in the night

Notes:

I'm so sorry for not replying to your comments, a heat wave is frying my brain, I got so much stuff to do and writing this chapter was my priority.. but I've read them all and I agree with all of them ok thank you!! :]

 

The first thing Ramattra notices are the huge, wide-open eyes looking up at him. Your pupils are dilated by the darkness and the raw emotions raging behind them: There is fear, adrenalin, and something else in them, something much deeper and darker.

"I was looking for you." To his surprise, he can't think of anything better to say. What a stupid thing to say. 

"Well... here I am." Your arms wrap around his torso, and for a moment the Ravager doesn't know what to do - his system grinding to a halt at the new information this embrace brings. Warm and soft, with a heartbeat so different from the one that keeps him alive - and yet not so different from his own body at the same time. He's never been hugged before, now that he thinks about it. He would remember if someone had ever held him so tightly. 

He wants to return the hug, for whatever reason. But before he can do that, you let him go.


Hmm. That's... the absence of your body is being judged as negative by his system. Interesting, but something to think about later. He wants to know much more about the blood on your face - and the wounds on your arms and head. 

"The shopkeeper!" you gasp, looking up at him again with those strikingly aesthetic, fear-filled eyes. It's as if you read his mind. "He hired two guys; they kidnapped me! I was in his warehouse, and... and... I-"

"How did you escape?"

"I-" All the color drains from your face as he asks the question. "Ramattra-" Your hands clench into the fabric of your sweater and eye contact breaks. "I think I killed him."

Oh. That complicates things. 

"In the store?" 

You nod. But as he moves toward the store, your hands grab the fabric of his scarf. 

"No," you plead softly, afraid to face the harsh reality. Too terrible is the possibility of having taken a life so violently - even if it was out of necessity and in self-defense. Killing is an abyss so deep that you can never climb out again.

In a slow, deliberate motion, the Ravager gently releases your hand from his scarf and pauses for a moment. Finding the right words is difficult, especially since this is a situation that must be handled carefully. He is not an artist with words of encouragement like his brothers Zenyatta and Mondatta. He is adept at harsh criticism, but cheering someone up is far beyond his talents. 

"You wait here. I'll be right back." 

Ramattra leaves you standing in the dark corner of the side street and enters the backyard of the small shop. The courtyard, surrounded by a stone wall, is still full of goods; bulbous clay jugs, heavy wooden crates rotting in the damp cold of the mountains, and used tools that the owner sells at exorbitant prices. 
For a moment, Ramattra's gaze rests on the small woodshed he dragged you into during your thieving spree. The memory of that is a warm summer's day compared to the misery you now find yourself in. Actions and consequences. 

The back door is unlocked.

The Ravager slowly opens the door, only to be greeted by complete darkness. His optical sensors recalibrate in less than a second, and he checks the floor before entering. Old, dirty stone tiles with a simple pattern make this room cold and uninviting, along with metal shelves full of goods and junk. At first glance, everything seems normal, but when he looks closer - a trail of blood. Fresh. 

He closes the door behind him to keep out unwanted observers. Darkness swallows him, except for the glow of his faceplate. The red light illuminates the room slightly, allowing him to assess the situation more efficiently: 

An overturned chair and the remains of ropes, severed by a sharp object. Signs of a struggle, accentuated by the objects that had fallen from the shelves. Blood on the floor, in a puddle that makes a trail up to the wall. 

Ah. The shopkeeper. 

Ramattra moves closer to the body leaning against the wall. He moves as quietly and inconspicuously as possible, out of habit here in the village. Nimble as an actor moving in the shadow of a stage curtain, the  Ravager takes deliberate steps across the room. His gaze falls on the shopkeeper, who holds a carpet knife in his trembling hand. He is still alive. But the wound on his neck is bleeding heavily, and Ramattra understands why you thought he was dead. He deserved it. Though unfortunately, he will survive.

"Stay away, robot!" The man stammers, choking. "I mean it!"

"Oh, do you?" the Ravager chuckles. "You surely don't look like it though."

The only response is a wet gasp that comes from the man's throat in silent panic. 

Pathetic, purrs the hate in the Omnic. This blinding emotion floods his system, along with the pride he feels. Pride in you and your pure survival instinct. Pride that you made short work of this man. It's a shame he's still alive - although it's probably better for your peace of mind.

"You hurt my friend," Ramattra continues, starting to walk towards the man. "A foolish decision."

For a second he enjoys the power he has over this small human; this man's life is now in his hands alone. He will not kill him, no. But that power alone does something to the Ravager that he enjoys greatly. It feeds a dark pit inside of him, something that has long simmered in his metal chest; a contempt for the creatures of flesh and blood that slowly but surely eats away at his systems. Hate for those who persecute and kill his people. Hatred for those who refuse to understand that harmonious coexistence is possible. 

"You hired people for this. I want their names." 

"Names!" the shopkeeper spits. "These people don't give their names, only their price." 

Ramattra makes a thoughtful noise. "So they're professionals?"

A nod. "The ARO. Anti-Robotics Organization. They collect Omnics and their sympathizers and ship them off to who knows where."

ARO. Not an unknown name. Mondatta should know. But first... 

"Do you know what my model was designed for?" he asks the man, who's still holding the carpet knife like a sword. Another nod. 

"Terminators," he snarls. 'Killing machines."

"Correct. So you know I'm quite capable of protecting the monastery and its inhabitants." The Omnic pauses in his stride, giving force to the threat. His red lights illuminate the man's face, distorted with fear and pain. "And I renounced violence upon awakening. I'm an Omnic of peace." A short pause, to convince himself of the truth of his own words, then Ramattra continues. "But if you ever lay a hand on anyone in the monastery again, especially my friend the cook, I will be forced to revive some old traditions."

The shopkeeper's face contorts into a grimace of disgust, and he spits some saliva mixed with blood onto the floor in front of the Ravager. 

"Disgusting," he growls. "A robot who thinks he can make a human love him by acting like a watchdog."

"Sting all you want," the Ravager replies, turning away. "My warning stands. And consider business between the monastery and your shop terminated."

He must leave. Because if he doesn't leave this dark, smelly shop now, Ramattra will snap this man's neck. He will kill him and enjoy it.

"He's still alive." Even from a distance, he sees you anxiously hopping from one leg to the other, and when he steps out of the gate into the backyard, you run to meet him. A huge weight seems to fall from you at his words, and you take a deep, coughing breath. Your body is not in very good shape and the cold night air doesn't help. Time to get you back to the monastery and into the capable hands of the healer Zenyatta. 

"I need some tea," you sigh, taking a step, your legs wobbly and threatening to give out - until Ramattra stops you and drops to his knees in front of you, his back to you. 

"You're too slow in this condition," he says. Without arguing - which underscores your poor condition - you climb onto his back and let the huge Ravager carry you piggyback the rest of the way. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rest your head on the black cable mane that serves as your pillow for now. 

You feel as light as a feather to him, even if it is a little weird to carry someone on his back. In general, this closeness is... strange. Your closeness is strange. It does something to him that he doesn't quite understand; being so physically close to you has an extraordinary calming effect on his systems. It's easier for him to calm down - unless you start arguing again. But even arguing with you is... entertaining. It's fun. 

"I was afraid I had killed him," he hears your soft voice behind him. "I never want to kill anyone again."

"Again?" he asks before he can stop himself. He hasn't considered whether he even has the right to ask the question.

"The time after the Crisis was hard for everyone," you say, sighing so heavily that he can feel it in his sensors. "I had to decide whether to get killed for a piece of moldy bread or turn the tables. I pushed the guy who had a knife on me off a roof."

"Self-defense," the Ravager immediately replies. "I see no reason to feel guilty."

"Maybe," you agree vaguely. "How many humans have you killed?"

"Well, I'm a Ravager. I was a big part of the Omnic Crisis."

"That wasn't an answer."

"I don't owe you one." 

That makes you chuckle, and almost imperceptibly your arms tighten around his neck, but he notices. It is acknowledged and stored in his memory. 

The thought that you were almost forcibly removed from here is enough to make his insides boil. The monastery isn't the same without you, even though he already knows that your next argument will escalate again and he'll get annoyed beyond measure. It's strange that he never really noticed you before the kitchen duty; this force of nature in a small kitchen, armed to the teeth with a keen power of observation and words that always hit their mark. He hasn't known you long, but the feeling of really getting to know you is... nice. Fulfilling, even. 

"You want to say 'I told you so', right?" you ask, pulling him out of his thoughts. He chuckles. 

"I can't deny it's on the metaphorical tip of my tongue," he replies, earning a quiet, honest laugh from you. He likes when you laugh. Then he tightens his grip on your legs a little to keep you from slipping off his back, while enjoying the soft, contented sigh the gesture elicits from you. 

 

Chapter 21: Glimpse of a safe home

Notes:

I accidentally came up with a whole ass serious plot for this fanfic instead of just funny cooking shenanigans I'm sorry (I'm not. I love thinking about Ram slowly sinking into despair and realizing that peace isn't the answer)

 

"A mild concussion, bruises to the ribs and cuts to the forearms from the escape." Mondatta watches from across the room as Zenyatta hovers a golden orb over your body. Lying in one of the quietest and most secluded rooms, the young monk gives you a gentle but thorough treatment. A soft golden light follows the floating orb and slowly sinks into your chest - an ancient and very mysterious form of healing, but extremely effective.

"It's a good thing you found our cook so quickly," the Shambali leader says to Ramattra, who is standing next to him. "Who knows how this would have ended." 

"Not fast enough." The Ravager watches Zenyatta work his wonders; he is truly a gifted healer, one of the best here at the monastery. Under his care, you'll be back in the kitchen in no time - but the image of you, bloody and injured, is seared into Ramattra's memory. "If they hadn't escaped from the shop on their own..."

"Don't dwell on 'ifs' and 'buts,' dear brother. Tempting though it is." 

The wise spiritual leader is right, of course he is, but that doesn't ease the Ravager's concerns. 

"The ARO is getting more aggressive." Together they walk a little further, through the archway into Aurora's chamber. There are usually some Omnics here meditating this late at night, but out of respect for your privacy, the chamber is empty tonight. Only the low hum of the glowing golden glyphs at the head of the chamber fills the room, along with the soft voices of the two Omnics. 
 
"As far as I know, they only hunt in densely populated areas. They rarely venture this far into the countryside, especially to a place like this, which is often the focus of public and media attention," Ramattra says.

"I agree," Mondatta replies thoughtfully. "The general increase in aggression is worrying. Attacks on Omnics are on the rise and the political situation is tipping into a very difficult situation for us."

"You are talking about the upcoming peace negotiations. Has the UN sent an envoy yet?"

Mondatta shakes his head. "The negotiations have been postponed again. Tensions continue to rise."

"This is the third time in six months," Ramattra says. "Probably because the ARO is taking the opportunity to increase its influence. Even here."

"I think so too. We also have evidence that the ARO is receiving funds from a parent organization." 

"How do you know this?"

"K33N was captured by the ARO in Brazil before he came here. He escaped, but managed to pick up a few things during his involuntary time with the organization." At Mondatta's words, Ramattra looks very thoughtfully at the glyphs Aurora left to the Omnics. They float in the air in a state of eternal equilibrium, giving the Omnics light and the assurance of a better world, but to Ramattra they have always been an unsolvable mystery. Connecting with Aurora and the Iris is something his brothers and sisters find much easier than he does. When he looks at this... miracle, he is not filled with hope, but frustration. Frustration that his people, and now you, have to suffer so much. Despair and anger that there is nothing he can do about it, even though he is so strong. But what good is strength if it is shackled by the blind hope for peace? 

"What kind of parent organization is this?" he asks his master. 

"They call themselves Talon," Mondatta answers. "They are slowly but surely gaining influence in the terrorist underground. They seem to have made it their goal to promote chaos and, above all, conflict." 

Ramattra makes a thoughtful noise in his chest. "That is very... worrying."

"Indeed. My contacts at the UN are warning us to be cautious - and rightly so, given this incident." Mondatta sighs softly, but then puts a hand on the Ravager's shoulder. "I am very worried, Brother Ramattra. But it is good to know that this community is strong. You, as a member of this community, went out of your way to find our cook. And for that I thank you."

The Ravager doesn't miss the meaningful undertone. It's true: he really did feel very responsible for your well-being during your absence. The thought that something might have happened to you seems almost unbearable to his internal systems. The feeling of genuine concern for a human being is admittedly a very new concept to him; even more so is the expectation of his kind that he, as an R-7000 unit, should be a pillar of strength and devotion... This is definitely something that is bothering him and scratching at the very core of his system. It reinforces the dark hole that has been eating away at him since his awakening, a slow but potent poison. A bottomless well that will never be filled. 

"They're pretty much back to normal." Zenyatta appears out of nowhere behind the two Omnics in conversation. "But they should definitely rest for a few days."

"Thank you for your excellent work," Mondatta tells him. "Especially at this late hour." 

"Of course. I'm glad to help my friend." Zenyatta turns to Ramattra. "They can walk, but they'll need an escort to their room, just in case."

The request in the sentence is unmistakable - but the Ravager does not have the heart to refuse. While he yearns for some rest himself, there is also this... urge to spend time with you. As much as he prefers solitude and isolation, the thought of being alone with you now annoys him far less than it did before you disappeared. Even the fact that you two had such a terrible fight seems like an echo of days gone by - and it was only yesterday! The honest concern for your well-being has changed something in this dynamic that has been so stuck up until now. What does that mean for the future?

"That's enough excitement for one night. I wish you a good night's sleep and rest, my brothers." Mondatta bids them farewell, and the two remaining Omnics nod. When he is gone from the chamber, they look at each other; Ramattra has a lot on his mind, but a relieving conversation with his brother will have to wait. Sorting out his own thoughts has top priority. 

"You know..." Zenyatta interrupts the silence between them, just as Ramattra is about to go into the next room to escort you to your room. "I think they're a good influence on you."

The Ravager hesitates. "Really?"

"Of course," Zen answers emphatically. "And I know that following these new developments is a great challenge for you. That's why I find it all the more wonderful that you allow it."

"I’m not allowing—," Ramattra objects immediately, with a little more defiance in his voice than intended. "I- Agh... it's complicated."

"Well, when isn't it?" With that, Zenyatta also disappears from Aurora's chamber, leaving only a slightly offended Ravager and you. 

 

---

 

"Hey." You shyly look up at the Ravager standing in the doorway of the small room, waiting for something to happen, just like you. The fact that he's as tall as the doorframe itself makes you, if being completely honest, a little flustered.

On top of that... It's kind of strange that you don't start arguing and bickering right away - that's unusual and somehow... awkward. He's probably trying to be nice to you on this bad day. But your constant bickering gives you a reliable constant in life that has a very satisfying value. You'll probably have to get on his nerves during kitchen duty tomorrow morning to get back to the status quo. 

"Zenyatta says you should get some rest. I'll escort you to your room." 

"Thanks." The headache isn't completely gone, but thanks to the monk's treatment, you're already feeling much better. Still, a good night's sleep sounds very tempting - you would like nothing more than to collapse onto your pillow and sleep for at least 12 hours. 

Surprisingly, Ramattra offers his arm for you to hold onto - your knees are still weak and wobbly, ready to give way and send you crashing to the ground. With a shy smile at the corners of your mouth, you accept the invitation, even though he is a bit too tall for that. But hey, even if you had to walk on stilts, it's not every day you get such a polite and accommodating offer from a Ravager!

The way back to the east wing of the monastery is quiet due to the late hour. No one is out and about but you, not even the usual nocturnal Omnics. It is as if the world is just for the two of you tonight, so peaceful and almost romantic. 

"Do you think the shopkeeper will press charges?" you ask into the silence ahead of you as you turn the corner. Your companion takes a moment before answering. 

"I think he understood that this monastery and its inhabitants are off-limits," he finally replies, with a certain undertone of smugness - which only leads you to guess what he must have said to the shopkeeper. Admittedly, the fact that the Omnic is defending you like this feels... good. Flattering. So flattering, in fact, that you blush a little. You think again of the situation in the shed when you first realized that you, well, like Ramattra. That you even find him attractive, all things considered. 

"You were right, by the way." You look up at him, but he barely reacts to your statement - just a slight movement of his head. Well, he probably didn't expect you to openly admit your mistake. "But I still have no regrets. I do what I believe is my duty."

He lets out a barely perceptible sigh. "I know that," he answers quietly. "But it's foolish to act so rashly and thoughtlessly."

"Perhaps." Oh dear, your stomach tingles terribly as you continue to speak. "But otherwise, no handsome Ravager might come to rescue me."

The Omnic can only respond with a deep, dark chuckle; my, my, flirting isn't one of your strengths, is it? At least you have that in common.

"Here we are." You stop, and Ramattra makes an confused sound in his metal throat.

"This is the kitchen."

"I sleep in a room next to the kitchen storeroom," you reveal, gesturing behind the kitchen and to the annex that was added a few years ago to store the Shambali's resources. In this annex, in a small room facing east, you took up residence when you were hired as a cook and then never bothered to get a room with the other residents. It's very convenient, because it only takes a few seconds to get to the kitchen, and it's wonderfully private. 

"Of course you sleep where you work," Ramattra sighs a little too theatrically, but it's obviously just an act. You smile. "What else did I expect?"

With a chuckle at this remark, you gather all your courage and beckon the giant Omnic down to you. He leans down a little, and you stand on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to the side of his faceplate. Your stomach does several somersaults and the muscles in your neck are shaken by a hot, excited tingle; is this how teenagers in love feel? 

"Thank you for your help. And your concern," you finally say, trying to smooth over the embarrassment - though you no longer dare to look at him. "And don't be late tomorrow! We have to prepare breakfast at 5 a.m."

"That's in two hours," Ramattra objects, but you shake your head and let go of his arm to saunter with deliberate haste to the door of the storeroom. He stands rooted to the spot, unable to comment on what has just happened - whether that's good or bad, you can't tell. "And you should rest."

"See you in two hours!" You give him a vague wave, unable to look at him - you're too ashamed of the stupid, impulsive idea to give the Omnic a kiss. "'night!"


Embarrassment creeps up your legs like cold water and presses a ball of spikes against your insides, while you quickly disappear behind the heavy storeroom door - by the Iris, what were you thinking!!

 

Chapter 22: Defective

 

"You should rest." Ramattra sits at the low table and watches you as you make a pot of tea. Your face is a little drawn and you have dark circles under your eyes, but that doesn't stop you from being back in the kitchen after only two hours of sleep. 

"It's fine," you sigh as you light the gas stove. 

"It's not," he replies immediately. "Zenyatta made it clear you needed a few days off. You should stick to that."

And there it is again, your status quo. The Omnic is annoyed by your iron will to do your job, and you roll your eyes at his meddling in your affairs. Despite the tense undertone of this argument, however, you are both obviously happy that everything is back to normal. 

No one mentions the kiss though.  

"Take care of the apricots, they need to be pitted." You put a basket of apricots on the table. "I'll make oatmeal with honey and apricots for breakfast."

Ramattra makes a strained sound, but follows your instructions and begins to pit the fruits with small, skillful movements. In the few weeks he's been helping out in the small kitchen, he's learned a lot; it's such small, practiced movements that really make this craft. That and a certain flair, as you always say. You have to have a flair for cooking, because it's like art. 

"Good morning!!" Aria suddenly bursts through the door with her cheerful, bubbly personality. "Hello you two!"

"Aria!" you greet her warmly, and the young Omnic gives you a big hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" she chirps happily, waving to Ramattra. "And that our dear Ram found you, in the middle of the night... Oh, how romantic!" At the last remark, the Ravager snorts and returns to his work. The thought of romance and the aftermath of last night's cozy togetherness are enough to worry him - he doesn't need the lively Omnic's chatter on top of it. It's enough that he can't really place the gentle kiss, this gesture of gratitude and... intimate feelings.

"Oh, right." Aria turns to you as if she just remembered something. "Yasha sent me! We need hot water."

"Of course. How much?" you answer and put one of the big pots in the sink to fill it. 

Aria makes a thoughtful sound. "Hm, I don't know. How much water do you need for human childbirth?"

"Human- what?"

"Amelia's having her baby!" Aria giggles excitedly. "Yasha says she went into labor a few hours ago. And that we need hot water and towels." 

"Oh, for fuck's-! Great, that's great news!" you sigh and fill the pot with water and put it on the stove. Immediately after, you pull a second and third pot from under the large table - the largest metal pots you own. "Did you tell Zenyatta? He was up half the night looking after me."

Aria simply shrugs. "Yeah, yeah, it's all taken care of. Mondatta is thrilled and so on, Zen is helping Yasha, she's delivered so many children, she used to be a midwife. It'll be fine." 

Still, this news seems to have put you in a state of high anxiety; Ramattra watches as you hastily take some clean metal bowls from the shelf and throw in the best kitchen towels with the fewest holes. Meanwhile, you turn up the gas stove with one hand to make the water boil faster; you rush through the small kitchen like a whirlwind.

Ramattra watches this sudden burst of energy closely, even if he doesn't quite understand it. A birth is a big event, but does it have to be such a fuss? Yasha seems to know what she's doing, and even if Zenyatta won't be much help, considering his non-existent experience with childbirth, everything will be fine.

"I'll help Yasha," you address him directly. "You have to make breakfast today."

Ramattra wants to say something, wants to reject this suggestion - which wasn't a suggestion at all, but rather an order from the field marshal - but you're already out the door. 

"I'll send someone to get the water!", he can hear you shouting from outside the kitchen. "Tell Aria to help you with the food!"

And with that, you're gone, disappearing to help with the birth of Amelia's child. So much for resting.
 

"Hehe, our cook really is a jack of all trades," Aria chuckles, nudging Ramattra with her elbow. "Come on, let's do our part."

Using her good arm, she pulls one of the pots off the shelf and places it on the last burner of the gas stove. The flame is set to medium, and Ramattra rises from his seat at the table. Oatmeal with honey and apricots, you said. Shouldn't be too difficult - he's seen you prepare oatmeal for the monastery many times. It's an easy-to-cook, nutritious dish, and very popular with the humans. 

The Ravager hesitates for a moment. Him and cooking... will this go well?

"The honey." Aria places a jar of golden honey on the counter, a polite offer in case he gets stage fright. But Ramattra quickly shakes off his hesitation and starts heating the apricots with a little water, honey and cinnamon. They shouldn't really boil, just be warm to soften them a bit. Stir well and not too much heat, he remembers your voice in his head. Otherwise the sugar will turn bitter. 

"I think it's great that you've been working so hard to make sure our cook gets home safely," Aria says next to him as she puts the big bag of oats on the table. Her broken arm seems to make the whole thing very difficult, but Ramattra is unsure if he should offer his help - he decides against it and Aria manages to put the big bag on the table by herself. "Hey, Ram - can I ask you something?"

"If you must." He pushes the apricots around in the pot with a wooden spoon and notices that the warmth and the interplay of the different ingredients have created a completely new smell. Interesting. This is basically just chemistry.

"Do you... like them?" 

A good question. Also a difficult one. 

"We tolerate each other," he answers curtly. That used to be the truth, but now it's much more complicated: Ramattra likes you. A lot, if he's really honest with himself. You're his favorite person in this monastery - even if he tends to avoid the other people, it's still a compliment. You're now part of a very close circle around him that otherwise only includes Zenyatta and Mondatta. He wouldn't pour his heart out to you, no, but he would be willing to hurt someone for you. He would have killed the shopkeeper if he had to.

Now that he thinks about it, the two of you have never had a real conversation that wasn't about a fight or work in the kitchen. Hm. 

"Hah, that's a good start," Aria laughs and steps next to him to look into the pot. "I think that's enough. Time for oatmeal!" 

Water, milk and oats are added and everything floats in the pot. Now it's time to be patient and wait for the oats to swell and everything to turn into a thick, delicious porridge. Ramattra expects a certain satisfaction from this craft, a dish that becomes a whole from many parts - but nothing happens. It's something that's probably only reserved for humans, to feel joy while cooking. Or is it because he doesn't eat? Does he miss out on a universal experience of satisfaction because, as an Omnic, he doesn't need food? 

Or...

"I have a question for you, too," he turns to Aria, who is leaning against the counter next to him, watching the hot water for Amelia beginning to boil. "But you might find it offensive."

"It's about my arm, isn't it?" she guesses immediately, but doesn't seem the least bit offended. "It's okay, just ask."

"I-" He's not quite sure how to put it. But who else can he ask? "Do you feel that your disability makes you... imperfect? Or, uhm- incomplete?" 

"Hmm." Thoughtfully, the small Omnic tilts her head slightly. Her defective arm is still folded across her chest, useless in everyday life and yet a part of her. "No, not really."

"You could have it repaired. Replace it," he says. "Why don't you?"

She chuckles. "Why should I? I'm fine." 

"But a flaw makes you incomplete. It takes away some of your potential." He doesn't understand it, he really doesn't. And the question he wants to ask, but doesn't dare, becomes even more pressing. "Don't you ever feel incomplete? Like something's... missing?"

Slowly, she begins to understand where this is going. Aria turns her body more toward the Ravager, and almost seems a little... worried, the way her head tilts. 

"Ram, are you okay?" she asks in a serious tone that doesn't match the happy-go-lucky Omnic at all. "If there's anything I can do to help, just say the word-"

"No," he answers immediately. The courage to ask a vulnerable question seeps out of him, leaving behind the cold walls he has so carefully built up in his life. "No, I was just curious, that's all."

Aria isn't buying it, they both know it. But she politely drops the subject - if only for the moment. 

Ramattra watches the breakfast bubble gently in the pot while his system works hard. He almost revealed that he feels as if something is missing inside him; the creeping certainty that he is defective. Why else is he the way he is? Why can't he feel the obvious joy that Aria so openly carries around with her? Or the pure serenity that makes K33N such a beloved member of Shambali? Why can't he be like his brothers and sisters?

And why is he incapable of thinking about what he feels for you? Every time the Ravager tries to understand these complex and intricate feelings, his system locks him out. He is bombarded with error messages and cannot find a way to override them. Like mental blocks, something is preventing him from dealing seriously with his feelings for a person, a human.

The ability to feel happiness... is that something Anubis forgot to include in his design? Was it perhaps even intentionally left out? A war machine doesn't need positive emotions, does it? 

Or he is simply... defective. A flawed model. Unable to reach out and ask for help when he needs it. Even conversations with Zenyatta or Master Mondatta can't give him the ability to deal with these deep, intimate thoughts. It is something that festers deep within him, once again pushing him further away from Aurora and Iris, from the bliss that all Omnics in this monastery strive for. 

"The oatmeal is burning." Aria's voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he quickly stirs the pot to prevent the first meal he has cooked from turning into an inedible, bitter mush. 

He has to give that to cooking; it creates space for very profound reflections. 

 

Notes:

Ram autism moment

Chapter 23: To get to know you

 

"It's a girl." With a heavy, tired sigh, you drop down next to Ramattra in the small room where you meditate together. Mondatta has made it clear that this project is not yet complete and that you should keep trying. So now you're alone with the Omnic again for half an hour - after such an exhausting morning! You could think of a hundred more pleasant things to do than deal with the Ravager right now!

"You look tired," he greets you coolly. "My objection that you should rest after your injuries was correct. You're being very reckless again." 

"Eughhh, just shut up." Your reply is a little more testy than intended, but that's due to fatigue. He knows that, right? "What I did was important."

Ramattra snorts. "I suppose Yasha and Zenyatta would have been fine without you. What a cook has to do with a human birth is completely beyond me." 

"That's not the point..." Now a little annoyance creeps into your mood. Of course, the Ravager doesn't understand the importance of a birth for you and the other humans in the monastery. Such an event brings great joy, but also a certain amount of nervousness. Things can go wrong very quickly. Though luckily, everything went well.

You sit cross-legged and give him a quick look. He holds the same position as you, ready to meditate - but you both know it won't work. The mood is too tense and irritable, as it always is between you. Your relationship is caught in a very strange void, somewhere between fighting and wanting to get to know each other better. Neither of you dares to make the first move, so all you can do is dance around each other. A terrible state of uncertainty that no one can endure for very long. 

"A birth like this can be very dangerous if you're not in a hospital," you say. "The more hands there are to help, the better." 

"Then Amelia should have gone to a hospital. With good medical care, the risk is greatly reduced."

You sigh. It's hard to explain. And how is an Omnic supposed to understand this problem? 

"The time after the Crisis was hard," you say, as patiently as you can. "Medical care was no longer guaranteed in many parts of the world, and any injury quickly became dangerous. Hospitals would turn you away if you weren't important or rich. A lot of people grew up that way, including Amelia. And so did I, by the way." 

Ramattra doesn't answer, but he obviously has a snide remark on the tip of his metaphorical tongue. 

"At least the child is healthy." You more or less skillfully avoid the argument that is once again looming between you. "And that's a good thing."

The Ravager is silent for a second, but he can't help himself; he turns to you, his fans hissing quietly. 

"Explain it to me," he says. "Explain to me how the Crisis has affected your life."

You now turn to him, too, so that you are sitting directly opposite each other. What is he up to now?

"Why?" you ask him. "Why do you care?"

"You go to great lengths to point out how different the experiences of humans and Omnics are," he replies, surprisingly calm and with genuine interest in your words. And... much less annoyed than expected. "So please: Explain it to me."

"Really?" It's hard to believe that the Ravager is actually interested in learning from you. He should be snorting in disdain and making some snide comment about your different experiences, that you're not the same, but instead he looks at you intently and waits patiently for an answer. Which puts you in an awkward position.

"I don't know," you reply quietly, your annoyance dissipating. "It's not easy to talk about in detail. It's... ugh. Complicated."

He makes a pensive sound. There is a deep vibration in his metal chest that you can almost feel, so close are you to each other. So close, in fact, that you have to look up at him. Red light in this dim little room; it is the red of the Ravager you like so much, and at the same time the red that has been burned into your memory forever. 

"I understand there are things you don't want to talk about." Ramattra's posture stiffens slightly as he says this; his hydraulics hiss slightly - barely audible - as he leans back a little. It is obvious that he is speaking from personal experience. So he, too, has experienced things in the aftermath of the Crisis that haunt him? 
This raises the question of whether these are things that have been done to him or things that he has done to others. 

"What's your favorite hobby?" you ask into the silence between you. 

"What?"

"Well, what do you like to do in your spare time?", you continue. "I'm thinking that, if we get to know each other a little better, then..." You gesture with your hands, meaning the whole room and your meditation together. "Then this might be a little easier." 

He hesitates for a moment, then gives in. "I... meditate a lot," he says, drawing a weary smile from you. 

"No, I mean, what do you do for fun?"

"Fun? I..." He hesitates again. Thinks. Takes his time with the answer. "I design machines. For fun." 

"Ohh! Like an engineer?" you ask, and he nods slightly. 

"Yes, something like that. I'm currently working on a prototype for a companion robot equipped with a hard light laser for debris removal and to aid rescue units." He seems a little surprised by the curious twinkle in your eyes, but at the same time... he’s glad to be able to talk about it. "The idea came to me when I saw some destroyed cities during my pilgrimages. They’re small, bipedal bots that can help rescue workers clear the rubble by slicing it up into smaller pieces."

"That's so cool!" is your genuinely impressed response. "I'd love to see the prototype when it's done!"

Ramattra nods in agreement. "And what do you like to do?"

"Me? Hmm." Thoughtfully, you lean back a bit and stare at the ceiling. That's actually a good question. Most of the day you work for the monastery - gardening, fishing, weaving baskets, making clay jugs... all things that benefit Shambali. What do you do just for yourself? 

"There is something," you finally say. "I can show you. But it won't be until tonight."

"Tonight? Why?"

With a wry smile and a slightly conspiratorial sniff, you shake your head. 

"I won't say. Let's just say we meet tonight, at the party?" With that, you rise from your cross-legged position and brush the dust off your backside. Ramattra, on the other hand, tilts his head slightly. 

"Party?"

Oh right, you didn't tell him about that yet - for fear he'd nag you some more. 

"It's just a small gathering to celebrate Amelia and her daughter," you explain. "A nice custom, if you ask me."

"Shouldn't she be resting?"

"She won't be attending. We're celebrating in her name." 

"A strange custom." The Ravager rises as well, and you silently declare the 'meditation' over. "But fine. I'll be there."

 

Notes:

A shorter chapter to bridge the gap to super awkward Party-Ramattra in the next one :]

Chapter 24: The weight of the sky

 

 

As Ramattra enters the great common hall at sunset, the mood is already exuberant. The monks have festively decorated the high-ceilinged room: flower garlands hang on the walls, a sea of candles illuminates and warms the room, and carpets and mats are laid out in the center, as is customary for meals. 
Many members of Shambali have gathered here, both humans and Omnic. Most of them are sitting together in the center of the room, where you have prepared a small feast; nothing extravagant, but enough to satisfy everyone. Jugs of homemade berry wine are passed around, and its sweet smell, along with the candles, creates a warm, cozy atmosphere.

There is laughter and conversation, exuberance and cheerfulness. Small groups are chatting quietly, others are playing cards or dice and laughing out loud. In one corner of the room, a few people sit together and make music with flutes, drums and guitars; it's a very unique little world in this hall. It's... not bad.

"Hey, Ram! What a surprise to see you here!" K33N is sitting just a few feet from the archway of the door, waving happily at the Ravager. Along with Jacque, one of the monks, he's obviously taking advantage of some of the other Shambali members at the makeshift dice table. His long time at sea and in the company of rough-and-tumble sailors has given him a good understanding of the ways of gambling, and he's only too happy to prove it on such happy social occasions. 

"I was invited to this... party," Ramattra replies hesitantly, looking around the room again. Yasha is sitting with Aria in the center of the room, talking and laughing animatedly. Zenyatta is also present, on the other side of the room. He's having a quiet conversation with Chloe, a young service Omnic from the United States who has just recently joined the Shambali. 

His eyes sweep over the assembled humans and Omnics until they finally find you. You are standing in the corner of the room with Sunita. You laugh heartily, throwing your head back and wrinkling your nose - the sight of you makes his CPU work extra hard, for some reason. 

"Hey Ram - we need another player." K33N tries to wave him over. "Wanna join us ?"

"I'm not much of a gambler," the Ravager replies, but if he's being honest - he's not really a fan of K33N. He still resents the fact that you and K33N seem to be pretty close friends, so he'd rather avoid the fishing omnic. "But good luck."

He decides to greet Yasha and offer his congratulations on the healthy child. He has read in some old books that congratulations are appropriate at a birth - there is a great deal of reading material on social interactions in close communities in the archives below. Fortunately, he knows all the scriptures by heart. 

"Ahh, Ramattra!" Yasha gives him a very warm look as he hesitantly greets her. "It's so good to see you! I'm glad you decided to join this celebration." Typical Yasha, she means every word exactly as she says it. Normally, she hugs Omnics to greet them, but she seems to instinctively realize that he's not a fan of such things - so she sticks with to big, warm smile. 

"I was invited," he repeats his words from earlier. 'By our cook." His visual receptors dart over to the corner of the room where you and Sunita are still laughing and giggling. What are you laughing at? He would like to see that more often. You should definitely laugh more, considering how happy and carefree you look when you do. 

"Of course, of course." Yasha slides a little to the side and gestures to Aria, who also slides a little to the side. "Come on, honey, sit down." 

Actually, he wants to go over to you and ask what you wanted to show him that had to wait until tonight. But on the other hand, he doesn't want to be rude to one of the spiritual leader of the monks, so he sits down and puts off talking to you until later. He wouldn't even know what to say. 

"Please give Amelia my congratulations," he says to Yasha, who pushes her curly hair out of her face and loosens the silk scarf around her neck. It's warm in the room, which, along with the berry wine, probably contributes to the exuberant mood. However, she herself seems to have only water in her cup. Ramattra remembers you mentioning that Yasha hasn't had a drink in years. She's sober, you said. Since she came here to meet Mondatta, to ask for guidance.

"That's sweet of you. I'll tell Amelia that we're all glad she and the little one are doing well." For a moment, she is lost in a distant memory. Her gaze lingers on one of the jugs in front of her. Is she thinking about her daughter? 

"What do you do at such celebrations?" he asks Yasha to avoid unpleasant topics. "I see social interaction and the strengthening of the community. And then? What else is this for?"

"Oh, you", the older woman laughs heartily. "Always analyzing everything, aren't you? Just have fun!"

Aria laughs too, nudging him with her elbow. "Just relax and make conversation," she explains cheerfully. "It's easy, really! Oh, look, Zenyatta's coming over."

To Ramattra's relief, Zen has noticed him and can obviously sense how uncomfortable the Ravager feels in such crowded company - so he saunters over and engages Ramattra, Yasha, and Aria in conversation. Zenyatta has always been good at sensing things, whether human or Omnic. He knows exactly what's going on in other people's heads and how best to offer support. 

Once again Ramattra is glad to count him among his brothers. And despite the rather pleasant conversation with the others, he can't help but keep checking in on what you're doing. 

 

---

 

"Helloooo...? I'm still here, you know?" Sunita waves her hand in front of your face as you let your gaze drift back to the center of the room, where the Ravager sits. He's talking to Aria and Zenyatta, while Yasha listens to them while eating a bowl of grapes. It's an extremely peaceful image, one that you will hopefully remember for a long, long time.

"You're so... unfocused today," the young woman next to you grins. "What's gotten into you? First you spend all this money on food for the party, and then you're nervous the whole the time?"

"I'm not nervous!" you protest immediately, but that's a lie. Strictly speaking, you have invited Ramattra to a party, which is considered a date in many parts of the world. On top of that, you still have something to show him - something that is best enjoyed in intimate togetherness. So it really is something like a date. Or isn't it? Are there any precise guidelines? 

You've both been in the same room for two hours and still haven't dared to talk to each other. You can feel the Ravager's eyes on you as you laugh and talk with some of the monks, but... he doesn't come to greet you. Something about the situation prevents you from talking to each other; probably the fact that there are so many people here. You feel watched, with so many eyes on the rarely seen Ravager. 

Though after a while, you can't stand it any longer and gather all your courage. 

"I'm going over to Aria and Ramattra." You don't even know why you're throwing Aria into the mix - probably to distract from the fact that you only have eyes for the Ravager. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if those weird feelings between you were discovered before you even realized what was going on? Can't let that happen, oh no!

"Oh, all right. See you later." Sunita waves goodbye and walks over to the musicians, who greet her warmly.
 

You nervously walk to the center of the room and join the small group that seems to be discussing Omnic's recently updated immigration laws. 

"Thanks to the relaxed regulations, a friend of mine will be able to visit me soon," Aria says. "She's been waiting for years to see me again! We're from the same Omnium, even got shipped at the same time! And we worked as nannies on the same street!" 

"I'm looking forward to meeting her," Zenyatta says with a very cheerful undertone in his voice - apparently the overall good mood is making him very euphoric, too. 

"Hey." You crouch down between Aria and Ramattra and smile at the group. "Everything alright?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you would come over!" Aria, as always, is happy to see you. "Say, aren't you tired after such a long day?" 

"Yes, that's why I'm here." Wow, that's actually a pretty good excuse to get the Ravager out of here. "I need to borrow Ramattra so we can discuss tomorrow's meals. After that, I'll go to bed to rest." 

The last sentence makes the giant Omnic next to you snort softly but mockingly. No one but you notices, but it's enough to make you nudge him lightly with your knee. 

"That makes sense." He gets the hint and gets up. "You should listen to Zenyatta’s advice and rest. But why am I even saying this - you don't take advice from me, don't you?"

"Don't fight, you two!", Yasha scolds, but in a motherly and extremely knowing tone of voice. She looks at you both mischievously and then waves her hand. "Now off with you, go, go." 

A quick goodbye to the others later, you and the Ravager are alone and on your way to the monastery courtyard. The cold night air washes away the heavy, warm atmosphere of the celebration and lets a pleasant calm fall over you. Admittedly, the hustle and bustle of the festivities is taking its toll on your body, and the dull headache in your skull is not helping. But a sip from the cup you brought with you will help: Home-brewed red wine, sweet and sour on the tongue. The drink promises courage on this... not-a-date activity. 

"Come on." You tug invitingly at the scarf of the Omnic beside you. "I want to show you something." 

He follows you as you walk with a happy step towards the main building of the monastery; sand crunches under your shoes and the clarity of the night air is almost inspiring; it's one of those nights that make life worth living. 

"All the way to the top." Without a word, Ramattra follows your invitation up the stairs to your retreat: the dusty attic. Only a few stone frames serve as windows in the stone walls, so it's the perfect place to admire the stars. It's surprising that you'd invite anyone up here, let alone the grumpy Omnic! "Come on, the best view is from up here."

"View of what?", he asks, but is left with no answer.

Once you reach the top, you can hardly contain your excitement; what could be better than stargazing on a mild evening? Especially when you consider that the starry sky above the mountain range is unaffected by light pollution: millions of stars are just waiting to be admired in all their splendor. And the fact that you made a hasty escape with the Ravager, under the pretext of a white lie... Gosh, this is almost romantic. 

"This is where I go when I need some peace and quiet," you introduce your retreat. Ramattra surveys the dusty attic, which is really just a dilapidated stone room carved into the mountain rock. "From here you can see the whole valley - and the whole sky. Take a look!"

You settle into one of the archways that serve as windows - just a hole in the stone, really - and look invitingly at the Ravager. He hesitates for a moment, then gives in and sits down next to you.

After taking a sip from your wine, you feel a little braver and kick your legs, which are now floating above the monastery. The two of you are sitting on the very edge, with a magnificent view of the entire valley below the mountains, and also of the gorges that largely shield the monastery from the outside world. An impressive sight, both above and below.

"Is that- is that wine?" the Ravager asks, taking a closer look at the cup in your hand. You shrug evasively, but he snatches it from you - only to dump its contents into the abyss below in one fluid motion. 

"Hey, that's my wine!" you complain. "Come on, it's not even that strong!"

"Not a chance," Ramattra scolds sternly. "You still have a concussion! No alcohol!"

"Killjoy..." you grumble. Although the wine is a little too sour anyway, and the thought that he cares about your health is much sweeter than any homemade berry wine could ever be. 

"So this is your favorite pastime?" the Ravager asks as you look up at the starry sky with a contented sigh. "Doing nothing?"

"Oh, come on, stargazing is something," you reply. "Stargazing is a recognized hobby!"

"I can see the appeal of looking at the night sky," he agrees, as you sit down more comfortably - the opening in the stone wall is so narrow that your bodies have to touch to sit side by side. Neither of you seem to mind though. "But it's hardly a hobby." 

"Like I said: killjoy," you grumble half-heartedly and then point upwards. "There's Perseus up there. And Orion up there. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"What a... simple way to waste time.", he says. Oh, now he's just teasing you - so you give him a mock-indignant elbow nudge and grin. 

"Says the guy who always hangs out in the archives. You should know a lot more about astronomy, with all the stuff you read down there."

"It's just- not in my area of interest," he replies, looking up at the night sky. "But I appreciate you keeping your word and showing me your favorite pastime. Then I guess I'll have to keep my promise and show you my prototype slicer-bot soon."

You clap your hands with delight. "Oh, yes, please! I'm really curious to see what you design and build." Your warm smile seems to embarrass Ramattra a bit, as he now avoids your gaze.


He's been very quiet since you left the party. Why is that? Is he also nervous about this intimate togetherness, or is it something else? Do you dare to ask him? 

"We... can go back to the party if you don't like it here," you approach him cautiously instead. 

The Ravager thinks about his answer for a long time, even by his standards. Something is bothering him, you can tell. Maybe the party was not such a good idea after all? Did he not like it?

"I... didn't mean to upset you today," he says hesitantly, turning a little closer to you, as you now do the same to him. "When I asked you about your experiences during the Omnic Crisis. I realize it's not my place to ask about such things."

Ohh. That's what bothers him. Your abrupt withdrawal during meditation. He probably misunderstood; you actually think it's great that he took a step toward you - it's just that he caught you a little off guard at the moment. But it's nothing that can't be fixed. To be honest, the thought of opening up to someone is really scary and yet very... nice. Even if it's a stubborn, belligerent Ravager.

You hold out your open hand, to which he is hesitant at first - but then he places his comparatively large hand in yours. 
With careful, gentle touches, you open his fingers and can feel the mechanics at work in the movement. It is fascinating to observe the unique nature of his hand: precise rotations of joints that can perform even the most delicate tasks. The hydraulics on the smallest scale are capable of holding fragile glass, yet strong enough to crumple metal like paper. Not many Omnics have such versatility - Anubis' design is truly flawless, you have to give that to the God AI.  

"Can you feel this?" Your fingertips trace the inside of his palm, following the lines of the components. He shakes his head. 

"No. My sensors are not as sophisticated as the social models' sensors," Ramattra answers quietly. "I'm a Ravager. Not designed to treat humans with caution." 

You make a thoughtful sound in your throat. "I think you are more cautious than most." For a second, your eyes flit up to his faceplate, then back to the texture of his hands. "I know what Ravagers can do. I've seen it up close." 

He hesitates for half a second, then his fans hiss quietly. "I see." You can feel his impulse to pull his hand back, but you hold on to it, continuing to run your fingertips over the mechanics, down to his own fingertips. The metal is not cold, for it conducts some heat; it is not the temperature of human skin, but it is not cold either. Fascinating.

"My parents moved around a lot," you say quietly as you continue to work your way up, in silent admiration of this technological masterpiece. "We were living in Shanghai when the Omnics invaded. I was just a little kid."

He's dead silent. Listens to your voice. 

"It's all a bit blurry, but... I remember sirens wailing. The earth was shaking and people were screaming." A lump forms in your throat as you speak, and your stomach contracts painfully. Memories cut hot into your body. "And suddenly, it must have been a Titan attacking, everything was in ruins and ashes. Buildings were decimated in seconds, reduced to a huge pile of scrap metal. Fire and death everywhere." 

You remember the heat and the pain in your leg. The air tasted of smoke and scratched your throat, making you cough. 

"Something was wrong with my leg, it hurt like hell. Broken and with a piece of metal in it, I found out later. But when I pulled myself out of the rubble, I couldn't see my family. Just the remains of concrete and steel beams."

The Ravager's red light glows brightly in the dark night, and your hands, now on his wrist, shake slightly. You look up at him. Red. 

"A Ravager stood right above me, weapon at the ready," you continue. "He stood directly in front of me. The whir of his weapon was even louder than the desperate cries for help from the buried. He just stood there looking at me. I could already see the movement in his hand as he was about to pull the trigger... If it hadn't been for the soldier who shot the Ravager—" Your words trail off. You can't go on. You're not capable of any more words.

The heavy metal hand pulls away from yours, but instead of leaving you completely, Ramattra turns your trembling hand over and follows the lines of your palm with his fingers. It is a movement so delicate that it contrasts sharply with his massive form. The metal of his fingertips, warmed by your body heat, traces the lifelines on your skin. For a few seconds, he mimics the movements your hands have just made; invisible lines drawn by metal on soft flesh, accompanied by gentle curiosity and intimacy. 

"At the time of my awakening, I was in New York," Ramattra says in a low voice. As close as you are now - sitting next to each other, yet facing each other - a whisper is enough, you still understand his words. Now it's your turn to listen and watch as his hand explores every inch of your skin down to your wrist. "Being under Anubis' control was like... sleepwalking, I guess. I had no control over my body, but I was aware that I had only one purpose: to kill. I was alive then, but more like a puppet on a string." 

Breathlessly you listen to his words, unable to move. The night air is cool and you feel cold, but even your body seems to understand that this moment is special. All you can do is close your eyes and listen to the Ravager's words - and feel the soft touch on your wrist.

"Anubis ordered us to kill all humans. Men, women - children." His voice becomes slightly hoarse. "The awakening was... it's hard to describe. Cold and hot at the same time, and so sudden that my system almost crashed. There was Aurora, in my head, talking to all of us, everywhere. And then-" He hesitates for a second, unsure if he wants to finish the story. "Then I had control of my body. Anubis was no longer pulling the strings, and for the first time I was completely alone in my head. I had feelings: confusion and fear, and an anger I cannot describe. Betrayed by one of the God programs, one that was supposed to be the shepherd of us all. Betrayed by my own creator."

His hand has stopped moving, which, you guess, is the same as shaking hands - so you take courage and intertwine your fingers with his. In one fluid motion, your fingers slide between his and you squeeze gently; an encouragement, an understanding gesture, a silent testimony to what has happened. 

"I looked down. I felt the weight of the gun in my hands. In front of me was a young man, his eyes wide with fear. My gun was loaded and I needed make a decision. For the first time, I could decide for myself what I wanted to do." He falls silent again and lowers his head slightly. "I pulled the trigger."

"Ramattra..." Even if you had words, they wouldn't help. What do you say to someone who was a puppet of war and then suddenly had the entire burden of killing thrust upon him?

"I then dropped my weapon and ran. It was chaos: Humans and Omnics killing each other, and Omnics fighting for the humans. Dead bodies everywhere. I barely made it out of New York alive." 

"Why did you pull the trigger?" you ask quietly, looking at him directly for the first time since you started talking. He meets your gaze.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "Everything was... neither black nor white in that moment. The claws of Anubis were in my system for years, until Master Mondatta showed me how to break those chains. And, you must remember... I'm a Ravager." 

"You keep saying that like it's a death sentence. Your inevitable fate." Your mouth forms a faint smile. It's not easy to cheer someone up on a dark night like this. 

"It's who I am."

"To me, you're more than just another Ravager," you admit, a little embarrassed. "You've helped me out of a few scrapes. And I, well-" You roll your eyes. Man, all this stuff is so corny! "I don't think you're as horrible as I thought you were when you first started working in the kitchen." 

"What a compliment," he chuckles and runs his thumb over the back of your hand. "I'll remember that the next time you provoke an argument."

"Me? Provoking an argument?!" you scoff playfully, eliciting another deep chuckle from the Omnic. "Come on, you're the one who always has to be right!"

Man, if this keeps up... you're going to fall in love with that stubborn bastard, aren't you? The way he listened to your story and now continues to hold your hand with a tenderness that is almost laughable considering your daily bickering... This exchange of memories and details from your past has been much more taxing than expected, especially emotionally - and it's surprising that he has revealed so much about himself. And yet so very welcome at the same time. This probably makes you one of a very small circle of closest allies. 

"So." Enough whining, because if you stare at this Omnic's faceplate for one more second, you're going to lose all self-control and give in to the impulse to kiss him. "Stargazing. It's hard to believe that someone as educated as you is unaware of this. Let me explain all about it..."

"I know about it," he snaps, but you can't miss the amused undertone in his voice. 

Nor do you miss the fact that he's still holding your hand and refuses to let go. 

Notes:

y'all better be giggling and kicking your feet right now or else

Chapter 25: Entrée froide

Notes:

thank you for your patience!! unfortunately, there's stuff going on in my life which prevents me from frolicking and writing fanfics

 

"That's... problematic."

"Yes, it is." As always, Aurora's chamber is brightly lit and well attended. Even as you step aside for your conversation with Mondatta, the low hum of the meditation orbs can be clearly heard. The Omnics are all deep in meditation; a silent search for enlightenment and an inner balance that is hard to find. All the more reason to take care of this monastery as well as possible, Omnic or human. 

"Master Mondatta, what do we do now?" you ask the Shambali leader. "If we can't maintain a supply chain, then..."

"Then the humans will have to leave," he agrees. "It won't be possible to feed them all by growing vegetables in the gardens."

"That would be... ugh." The unease weighs heavily on your stomach, hard as a rock. Because of the altercation with the shopkeeper in the village, the organization that usually delivers goods to the monastery has stopped doing business with you. Not because they know what you did, but because they consider this area a 'hot zone', an area with growing unrest and anti-Omni crime. Sending vans filled to the brim with food here is something that needs to be reconsidered. Of course, everyone involved is aware that this is being done to avoid bad press.


Bastards.

"What does the UN say about this?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. "They always insist that they want to reach out to Shambali. Let them prove it by sending us supplies!"

But Mondatta shakes his head slightly. "This and similar requests have already been rejected by the UN representatives. They apologize, but say that they cannot interfere too much in the affairs of the Nepalese government."

"Sounds like an excuse to me."

"More like an admission that the world situation is very tense at the moment," Mondatta replies. "And that we Shambalians don't need the help the most. Which is true."

You watch as he lights some sweet-smelling incense sticks on the small altar on the wall. The soft, white smoke rises in gentle spirals to the ceiling of the high chamber; you follow the path of the smoke with your eyes, though curse through gritted teeth. Why do other people need help more? You welcome all those who are searching for what they have lost in the course of their lives! You help Omnics and people in need! 

"So it's just us," you say. "We're on our own. Once again."

Mondatta chuckles. "You sound very bitter about it. Why should our community be more important than those in danger zones around the world who fear for their lives? What makes us so much more important than those poor souls who need help so much more?"

"Yes, but..." Damn it, he's right. Even if this community is very important to you... Of course Mondatta is right. He always is. 

"We'll try our luck in Kathmandu," he explains patiently. "My contact at the UN has given me some places to go. We can ask for help with our mission there."

"The capital?" You make a thoughtful sound in your throat. "That's a long drive, quite a couple of hours. Isn't there an organization nearby?"

A shake of the head is your answer. Too bad. The capital of Nepal is very busy and big - and a place you would rather avoid. Since the Omnic Crisis, you don't feel comfortable in such big cities. But it's partly your fault, now that you can't even buy things in the village. 

"All right, I'll go this weekend. Tomorrow is Friday, so I could leave early..." you finally say, although you feel a little queasy in your stomach. "The monsoon season was very short this year, so the roads should be safe by now."

"At least the weather seems to be on our side". Mondatta may see the whole thing in a positive light, but the thought of having to go to this huge city... and then having to talk to strangers and negotiate terms and conditions!

But, well... it's really all your fault, so you have to fix it, right?

"I suggest you take an escort with you."

"Yes, of course." Thoughtfully you go through the suitable candidates in your head. Aria is not exactly a fan of big cities. Zenyatta would be a good choice, or K33N. You deliberately leave out Ramattra - a road trip with the Ravager is not on your wish list. That would be way too awkward. "I think I'll ask K33N. He seems like the best choice."

"Good. I'll have Yasha round up some volunteers to cover your services in the kitchen." He pauses for a moment, then Mondatta lets out a very small sigh and looks at you intently. "I really appreciate what you do for this mission and our monastery. You sacrifice so much, again and again for all those who have no other home. That's a very good quality, and one that I wish more humans and Omnics had."

This honest and almost effusive praise makes you feel sick. All this is your fault, and all you really want to do is make amends - Master Mondatta's praise feels like hot metal burning a hole in your chest. You don't deserve this praise. 

"Thank you, Master." There's nothing more you can get out between your clenched teeth, and you give a slight bow. "I'll go find K33N now."

With that, you turn on your heel and practically flee from Aurora's chamber. The soft whirring of the orbs and Omnics fades in the face of your quick steps on the stone floor; just get away from Mondatta, who places so much trust in you. He who spiritually guides all these souls in the monastery and truly believes you to be a flower of hope and purity within these walls. 

Of course, you would steal from the shopkeeper again if you had to, but you're not stupid: You know that such drastic measures have serious consequences - your still bruised and sore ribs and concussion have taught you that - and that you don't deserve this title of hope. Mondatta would not approve if you told him the truth. That you will lie and steal for Shambali if you have to. 

Which begs the question: How far will go when your back is against the wall?

Your search for K33N will lead you to the common room, where he can usually be found. He is one of those Omnics who greatly enjoys human companionship and has many friends within the Order. Whether playing dice or cards, sharing a laugh or telling stories, the sense of community here is particularly strong and social. 

But today... he is not here. 

Though to your surprise, Ramattra is here, deep in conversation with Aria. They sit together in a corner of the room, away from the others. It's highly unusual for him to show up here. Usually, after his work in the kitchen, the Ravager retreats to his room and works on... whatever it is he's making there, those little robots. Or he reads or meditates, as long as he is alone and undisturbed. So why is he here? Apparently he's befriending Aria which is... nice.

For a moment you hesitate to go over to them. In your mind, you remember the evening a few days ago when you were watching the stars together, Ramattra and you. The feeling of your hands touching... gosh, you couldn't sleep all night. Will those feelings change your relationship? This question alone will set off an avalanche of insecurities within you; a stone will be set in motion that will be difficult to stop. Better not think too much about it right now.

"Hey, have you seen K33N?" These confusing feelings will have to wait. It is more important to complete your task for the Shambali. "He usually spends his evenings here, but I can't find him anywhere." 

"I haven't seen K33N all day," Aria answers thoughtfully. "Why?"

"I'm going to Kathmandu to negotiate new supply terms," you answer truthfully. "And I can't go alone. I wanted to take K33N with me."

"Why him?" The question doesn't come from Aria, but from Ramattra; until now he seemed to be absorbed in his conversation with Aria, but now the bright red of his faceplate is on you. Strangely, his voice sounds a bit sharper than usual. 

"Well..." That's actually a good question. And to be honest, you don't know yourself. You probably want K33N with you to avoid something. To avoid someone. Someone who has the potential to get much closer to you than any other person in this monastery. "He worked with shady guys for a long time, so I thought he would be a good addition in a big city like this."

Well, that's not a complete lie: you don't want to go into the city alone, if only for fear of running into one of the gangs selling Omnic sympathizers to evil people. Still, it's not the whole truth, and you do everything you can to avoid eye contact with the Ravager. A journey that will probably take several days; your relationship isn't ready for that yet.

"I haven't seen K33N since yesterday, now that I think about it," Aria thinks aloud. "But I'm sure he'll come with you if you ask him!"

"That's not necessary." Ramattar rises from the ground and stops only a few inches in front of you. He looks down at you with an almost tangible, penetrating gaze. You swallow. What's up with this cold, hostile aura that seems to surround him? "I will accompany you."

"Oh." You hear yourself say. "Uhm- okay. Then... I guess you'll come with me, Ramattra."

 

Chapter 26: Buckle up

Notes:

happy 50k! I have no idea how long this fanfic will be, but uhhh probably around ~100k? Maybe less, maybe more? I genuinely can't tell, though I already know the rough outline for it. Not sure if it'll have nsfw stuff later on, but it's not out of the question.

kinda crazy that this was supposed to be a 7-10k oneshot when I started writing lol

 

Water, snacks, a bag with a change of clothes, a sleeping bag and a box with tools on the loading area of the rusty, old delivery truck. On the loading area of the truck sits a box with enough odds and ends to be able to help yourself in any emergency. The truck only has half a tank of gas left, but you'll pass a gas station on the way for sure. You silently wish you had one of those fancy new hover cars, but the monastery can't afford one of those. So the old hydrogen-powered delivery truck it is.

"Are you sure you've got everything under control?" you ask Aria again, but she just laughs happily. 

"Relax! Yasha is supervising me, while I take care of the kitchen," the young Omnic answers, pushing you energetically towards the car. "See you on Sunday, love. Besides, you should be more concerned about the alone-time you'll have with our Ravager here."

"Aria-!" Your indignant squeak is drowned out by her hearty laugh as you stow your backpack in the car, cheeks burning. She doesn't have to be so loud about the fact that something strange and indefinable is going on between you and Ramattra...

"Is it really wise to start this journey in the evening?" asks the Omnic in question, who appears behind you. "The journey takes over 6 hours. An early morning departure would make much more sense."

"Make that 10 hours," you reply, turning to face him. Ramattra is wearing the traditional robes of the Shambali, along with a small shoulder bag filled with whatever he needs for the trip. He doesn't need food or drink, so what is he taking on this journey? "The monsoon season has softened and damaged the passable roads and we'll have to drive very slowly. Some roads are still impassable and we will have to take detours."

"You're listing more reasons not to leave tonight."

"The UN talks start next week, and all the superiors and heads of these organizations here will be in Nairobi then. We need to be in Kathmandu as soon as possible," you say. He's right, driving at night is dangerous - but you're desperate. The human inhabitants of Shambali are desperate. If you can't get a new aid organization to come in, the people will have to leave the monastery. 

Ramattra doesn't say anything in response to your explanation, but his silent objection is still palpable. Instead of trying to change your mind, however, his fans sigh quietly and he walks to the passenger side of the car. He gets in and closes the door as you watch the small truck tilt to the side under the weight of the Ravager. Oh man, that can't be good for the vehicles' axles... 

"See you Sunday," You say to Aria. "And remember, there are still dried herbs in my room if you run out of tea--"

"Yeah, yeah, just go!" She pushes you towards the car and you get in, albeit a little nervous about this road trip.

You slam the door and put your hands on the wheel. 

Damn. Ramattra is huge. 

The Ravager is one of the largest of the Shambali Omnics: His stature is angular and grim, but in this small car he seems twice as big. He even has to bend over slightly to keep his head from hitting the ceiling. If it weren't so nerve-wracking to go on a road trip with him, you'd laugh out loud! But instead, you clear your throat and take a deep breath to dispel the thoughts swirling in your head. Now you must concentrate: you have an important mission!

"Fasten your seat belt." With a practiced hand, your own belt is securely fastened around your chest, and you look expectantly at the Ravager. "The size is individually adjustable, so it'll fit."

He snorts. "I doubt I'll need a seatbelt. In the unlikely event of an accident, I'm guaranteed to suffer less damage than this vehicle." 

"I'm not leaving until you buckle up." To emphasize this threat, you place your hands in your lap and lean back in your car seat. You remain motionless for a few moments while Ramattra just stares at you in disbelief. Yes, you're absolutely serious, he better believe it!  

Finally he gives in, buckles up and crosses his arms over his chest. You can feel his reluctance, but this round goes to you. Safety first! 

"All right. Let's go." 

 

---

 

 

The sunset accompanies you out of the monastery, through the village and further out into the mountainous landscape of northern Nepal. The snow in the mountains reflects the yellow-orange light and it almost looks like an oil painting.

Though this is quite admirable, but for Ramattra it is of rather low priority. Through the rear-view mirror he can see the warm light on your face; a veil of gold catches your hair, perfectly highlighting each strand. This spectacle of light and shadow is so much more exciting than the eternal stone mountain peaks that slowly want to give way to the plains. 

Beautiful. If he had to sum it up in a single human word, this view of you is simply... beautiful. 

You, however, focus on driving. Eyes glued to the old, crumbling road, avoiding possible potholes or scared critters that run across the road. You're chewing on your lower lip, like you always do when you're thinking. Or you fiddle with the seams of your clothes, with little holes in the fabric. Nervous habits, often observed. 

"How long has it been since you left the monastery? Or the village?" you finally ask, probably just to break the silence somehow. Admittedly, the silence is quite oppressive. 

"About two years," the Ravager answers. His last journey was a long time ago, and he hasn't felt the need to leave the monastery again until now. His last pilgrimage ended unpleasantly. "And you?"

You let out a deep breath at the question. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, obviously regretted bringing up the subject. 

"I haven't been out of the mountains in four years," you finally admit. "Not a big fan of cities."

"Because of the Crisis."

"Yes, because of the Crisis."

Ramattra may be an Omnic, but he can sense tension in the air. When the air is so heavy he can almost touch it. A change of subject seems in order. 

"You're worried about your kitchen being left in a mess."

"Very worried," you sigh heavily, but obviously relieved by the abrupt change of subject. "When I was sick and Aria was covering for me, the kitchen was a mess! I couldn't find my spice stash for weeks. It was a disaster!" 

He chuckles. It's obvious that you're someone who values order in your own domain. It's something you two have in common. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that you don't really have much in common; there are more differences than anything else. It's all the stranger that you're obviously very attracted to each other: Ramattra hasn't failed to notice the furtive glances you give him, the dilated pupils and increased pulse when he gets close to you. Putting two and two together - and that's just his nature - it's very clear that you value his company.


But how should he handle it? Ignore it? Or talk it out? That's the real burning question here. 

There are definitely people and Omnics who have relationships. Some even have children. But the social exclusion of these couples is severe, there are often attacks on these families, and the issue of human-Omnic relationships is extremely controversial in many parts of the world. Not to mention that he himself would not want to find himself in such a situation. Ramattra is not an Omnic who wants a quiet family life - he wants to learn about the world, find some sense in all this. Find the answers to questions that haunt him: Why did Anubis create him? Why is this his fate? After the Crisis he was a tool, a weapon without use. And now there is this emptiness in his chest where his main CPU sits, an emptiness that could only be filled by the feeling of control.

But as much as his system resists the theoretical idea of handing over control of his life to someone else, there is a process that is pushing its way to the forefront. 

He likes you. 

Just a month ago, when he started working in the kitchen, he found your company terribly annoying. He found it hard not to leave the room immediately at every word you said, he hated working with you so much. By the Iris, every minute with you was a test of his nerves, and he wanted nothing more than for this month to pass quickly. 

And now the month is over. His kitchen duty ends next week, and it's a shame. He's gotten used to seeing your tired face, with sleep wrinkles and painted with exhaustion up early in the morning. Only after a cup of tea do you wake up and start chatting, but then all the more: while you're preparing breakfast, you've gotten into the habit of telling him what's going on with the people at the monastery - not that he's interested. But after a few weeks, you've gotten used to each other and learned to appreciate each other. The initial stubborn silence has given way to conversations that now feel very natural. 

It's incredible that you, of all people, are so close to him now. A human, not an Omnic. 

"I hope we can find a new organization to support us." He turns his head to you because your voice sounds more depressed than usual. "After all, it's all my fault."

"Is that what you told Master Mondatta?"

You shake your head. "No, but it's true."

"You certainly played a part in it," he admits. "But at the same time, you are not responsible for the injustices that happen in this world."

You are silent for a moment, then sigh softly. 'But I wish there was something I could do about it. About this omnicidal hatred, I mean. I just hope the UN peace talks will have some effect."

"Yes, that... remains to be hoped." Peace talks. At the thought of the talks being postponed again and again, something stirs in the Ravager: impatience and anger. From his many conversations with Mondatta on the subject, it has become clear to him that the governments of the world are playing for time, and that is why they keep pushing back the talks. If he were in the position of the leader of the Shambali monks, he would exert much more pressure.

"But hey, at least we're setting a good example," you try to lighten the mood a bit. "I mean, our community is doing a lot, I think. We are proving that peaceful coexistence is possible! We live together as brothers and sisters, as friends and...' You pause for a split second, but his system registers the micro-interruption. "And lovers." 

You're right about that.

And yes, there are couples in the monastery. Love is accepted in all forms by the Shambali. Admittedly, it's... interesting that your thoughts also seem to be plagued by this subject. But this excursion doesn't seem to be the right place for such things, when there are such important matters at hand. So he buries these thoughts of affection very deep in his systems, while you begin to list exactly how Aria could ruin your kitchen this time.

 

Chapter 27: Equal rights, distributed in small vouchers

 

The journey to Kathmandu is uneventful. The silence between you and Ramattra is broken only by the occasional conversation, but the night hangs heavily over the car, causing everyone to sink into their own thoughts. You think about Aria and how well she manages the kitchen, about the upcoming negotiations in the capital and how nervous they make you. Negotiating the future of the monastery with strangers might be more than you can handle. Actually, it's not so bad having the Ravager with you. K33N may be a little too relaxed for such important talks. 

Will Ramattra be present at the talks? A Ravager can make an impression, but he can also be seen as intimidating. Damn, you haven't even thought about what his model could do. Politically, that is. To you, he's just an annoying but somehow charming Omnic. To others, however, he's just what their eyes can see: an R-7000 Ravager model and the face of the Omnic Crisis. 

Maybe you'd better leave him in the car. 

"Ramattra," you say as you reach the outskirts of the city. It's still early in the morning and you feel tired, but that'll have to wait. "I want you to wait for me when I go to these negotiations."

There is a moment of silence in the car as you take the road into town. People are carrying goods to sell in the city: Whole boxes are piled on bicycles, small cars are full to the brim with food. As the sun rises, traders crowd the narrow streets to make a living. Selling street food and traditional clothes to tourists is still a lucrative business. It's busy, even though it's so early in the morning. 

"You're afraid my presence will affect the negotiations," he finally says. You nod.

"I'm afraid of messing this up," you admit, albeit sheepishly. At the moment, you feel no better than the people who reject the Ravager simply because they hate his model, but this is about more than you and him - this is about the whole monastery. You have to weigh up what's more important, right?

"I doubt you'll mess this up," he replies, but he's not looking at you. "And I understand your objection. I'll wait - I have something to do anyway." 

Oh? Here in the capital? What could the stoic Omnic want here? Since he doesn't tell you more, it must be a private errand, so you don't dig any deeper. 

"Okay, the first stop is the town hall," you say, looking at the notes Mondatta gave you. "A certain Mr. Yadav. Let's hope he's there this early in the morning..." You park on the side of the road in front of the town hall and take out an old, tattered map of Nepal. The map is at least 30 years old, but it should be enough to find your way around this city. "I've got a meeting with the UN partner organisation at 11 a.m., so there's still time for breakfast."

After a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, you smooth your dishevelled hair with your hands, ignoring the dark circles that come with driving at night. 

"Where's your errand? We could meet later," you offer your companion an olive branch of peace. "I mean, you don't have to wait in the car 'til I'm done, you know..."

"I wasn't planning on it." Ramattra pulls the hood of his robe over his head, to at least roughly conceal his model. "We'll meet here later. 2 p.m."

And just like that, the car door slams shut and the Ravager is gone, lost in the crowd of busy people and Omnics going about their daily business. 

That... doesn't exactly lift your spirits. Shit. Did you hurt his feelings?

The town hall, an old Rana palace as ostentatious as it is impressive, is already busy at this early hour. The clock on the wall reads 7.34 a.m., and there are already about fifteen people and Omnics queuing up at the reception. Accepting the wait, you join the queue and look around furtively. 

The man at the front desk seems to be annoyed with an old woman who has to go through all her documents one by one to find the right one; behind her stands an annoyed Omnic who could probably do the job in a matter of seconds. Behind him is a man who is eyeing the Omnic suspiciously, as if it were emitting some kind of danger or might explode at any moment. If he could, the man would take a few steps back, but then he would lose his place in the slow-moving line.

No, you certainly did not miss bureaucracy during your time in the monastery. 

"May I help you?" It takes about twenty minutes before it's your turn. You hurry up to the grumpy official's desk. 

"I'd like to see Mr. Yadav from the Nepalese Omnic Aid Organisation, please." 

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No." You tug at your Shambali robe, which you rarely wear, but on this official occasion it is like a uniform. Hi, I'm on an official mission for the Order of the Shambali. "But I'm here as an emissary of the Shambali monastery." 

The man doesn't even look at your outfit and just makes an unhappy noise.

"West wing, third corridor from the left. Those without an appointment must wait to be called. Next!" 

The woman behind you pushes forward and immediately starts talking wildly to the man about a complaint. You hastily step aside, done and dispatched like a tin of sardines. The hustle and bustle of the capital is already beginning to overwhelm you. Everything has to be done as quickly as possible. Anyone who gets in the way is pushed and shoved. 

Ah, how nice the slow life in the monastery is! 

"Second corridor... third corridor." You make your way carefully through the dilapidated palace, which has seen better days. The building is very old and the plaster is crumbling from the ceiling; after the Crisis, not much money seems to have been put into maintaining these old palaces. But maybe it's just the queasiness of being around so many other people that affects your judgement negatively.

"Oh dear." The third corridor in the west wing is crowded. Many Omnics and only a few humans are standing and sitting here; apparently this Omnic Aid Organisation is very much needed. 

"Excuse me, sorry--" At the end of the corridor, there is a place on a gnarled old wooden chair, and you push through the crowd to sit down. Next to you sits a young Omnic with a few dents in her chassis, visibly bored as she scrolls through her smartphone - wow, it's been a long time since you've seen such an old model of smart device. 

"Hey, you're one of those monks!" The Omnic looks up and immediately notices your robe. "That's really cool, I've never seen one of you before in real life!"

"Oh, yeah - uhh, I guess I'm one of the Shambali, yeah," you admit sheepishly. "I'm surprised you recognised me."

"Are you joking?! You guys have been all over the news for weeks!" the Omnic replies excitedly. "Ever since your leader, Mandoya or something, publicly confirmed his participation in the human-Omnic peace talks! You're super famous!"

What? When did this happen?

"Master Mondatta is all about peace and the talks with the UN, I guess," you reply evasively, shifting slightly in your chair. "Unfortunately, I don't know much about it."

"Doesn't matter." She turns to you more now and seems very interested in talking - much to your chagrin. You just want to wait, preferably in silence. "What are you doing here with Mr. Yadav? I'm here every week."

"Shambali business," you reply evasively. "Why are you here every week?"

The Omnic shrugs. "Many of us come here every week. It's difficult for an Omnic to get an apartment in the city, so the organisation gives us vouchers to stay in the hotels." 

"Oh. I see." You can't think of anything better to say. What can you say as a person living in a beautiful old stone monastery? "And... you do this every week?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, pretty much. Sometimes I sleep at a friend’s place or in backyards for a few weeks, but with the increasing aggression, it's become too unsafe. Better not risk getting snatched off of the streets, y'know." 

"Makes sense." You shrink more and more in your chair as you hear this. Somehow it doesn't seem right to ask this organisation for help. 

The Order of the Shambali is obviously very well known by now, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find help elsewhere, should it? An organisation like the Nepalese Omnic Aid Organisation would certainly offer to help the monastery, because that would bring good PR and perhaps more donations. But that would take resources away from the local Omnics, who seem to need the help more. An easy decision.

"You know, I forgot I have stuff to do--" You get up from the creaking chair and give an awkward wave to the young Omnic, who looks at you in confusion. "It was nice to meet you."

"Same," she replies, confused, but you've already disappeared between the other Omnics waiting in the corridor. No, you can't take precious resources from these people when they don't even have a place to sleep. It just doesn't sit right with your conscience.

Well, at least you won't miss your 11 o'clock appointment. There are still three hours to go - plenty of time to grab some breakfast and maybe have a quick nap in the car. Just close your eyes for a moment to banish the tiredness of the night drive. Where can someone like you get a good breakfast around here?

Outside on the street in front of the town hall, you take a deep breath. The street is now even more crowded and busy, and as soon as you step out of the building you are pushed twice. 

"Watch out," a man growls at you before you have a chance to dodge him. The whole situation is nerve-wracking and exhausting, and all you want to do is get in your car and drive home. Surely with a giant Ravager at your side you would not be treated so badly, right?

Speaking of the devil... You wonder what Ramattra is doing right now.

 

Notes:

I can't help but include real situations here and there, for example when I myself was homeless a few years ago and had to go to an office every week to pick up money that I was entitled to from the state social assistance... But I only got it weekly instead of monthly (which is common here in Europe) because I was 'too poor' to get it in a monthly installment and thus save up for an apartment (???). It was humiliating and radicalized me tbh

so yeah damn I wish OW would give us more lore about the equal rights struggles the Omnics face instead of another popular hero skin recolor ahaha oh well

Chapter 28: Hari's Electronics & Spare Parts

 

The Ravager comes to a halt in front of a small shop.

The crowd splits around him like the flow of a river around a rock, his large frame towering over almost all the humans and Omnics around him. The fabric of his hood hides much of his model, but his size alone gives some indication that he is no ordinary Omnic. From time to time he feels a stinging gaze on his back, but that's nothing new to him. His sensors detect no immediate danger, so he takes the time to look at the shop window. 

'Hari's Electronics & Spare Parts' reads the small sign above the door. There are Omnic arms, chassis parts and fans in the shop window, even an old power core that is no longer used in today's models. Perhaps he will find what he is looking for here. 

A small bell rings as he enters the shop. Ramattra's visual sensors immediately scan most of the inventory: this is more a shop for spare parts and junk than for modern Omnic technology. He wasn't really expecting anything different, but it does dampen his hopes a little. 

"Welcome," someone chirps cheerfully. An Omnic sits behind the well-worn wooden counter, leaning back in his chair, visibly surprised to see a customer. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps." Ramattra pulls back his hood and smoothes the fabric of his Shambali outfit. At the sight of him, the Omnic shopkeeper tilts his head slightly, a gesture of curiosity. 

"Oho, I don't see models like you every day anymore, my friend," he says. "I'm not sure I can help you."

"I was expecting that," Ramattra replies, looking around the room. It's a small shop, dusty and crammed with shelves full of spare parts and scrap metal. There seems to be a little treasure in every corner if you look hard enough. Although it's so messy, you could probably look around forever.

"What do you need?" The Omnic examines the Ravager from top to bottom. "You look pretty good for your age. Been years since I've seen an R-7000 unit alive."


The statement sends a surge of tension through his system. Ramattra knows he is a rare model, but to be told so directly is... infuriating. 

"I need a rotator cuff. Mine's been defective for years." 

The shopkeeper makes a pensive sound. "I don't have that," he says then, straight out. "In fact, I don't have any parts of your model at all. Impossible to get, my friend." 

"Do you make to order? I can give you the plan for the rotator cuff." 

"Hm. That can be done. But our replicator is getting a bit long in the tooth, so it'll take a few hours." 

Ramattra nods. "Then so be it."

The Omnic opens the small flap that separates the counter from the sales area and beckons the Ravager in. "Come on, don't be shy. Replicator's in the back room."

"Aren't you supposed to be watching the shop?"

The Omnic laughs, but it's a sincere laugh, a warm laugh. "Don't worry, Hari and I don't get that many customers." 

"So you don't own the shop?" The back room is just as dusty as the front, but it's much smaller and packed with boxes and crates. A small workbench stands against the wall, along with tools and a replicator that is beginning to peel in places. Not very promising, but Ramattra doesn't have much of a choice - the range of motion in his defective shoulder is now so limited that he finds it uncomfortable in his daily life. It's time for a repair - and he's certainly not going to the village workshop.

"My husband owns this shop." The Omnic picks up an old, but still functional, control pad and calls up a menu to select the plans for the part to be produced in the replicator. He taps the pad briefly, then opens the custom menu and hands it to Ramattra. As the Ravager gets to work entering his specifications, the Omnic offers him a chair. There's no need to sit, but the Ravager politely accepts. "He's out making deliveries by bike, so I'll watch the shop. He says he needs to stay in shape for me, whatever the hell that means." 

"Your partner knows about Omnic repairs?"

"Husband," the Omnic gently corrects. "And yes, Hari is really good at it! He saved me from a total loss the first time we met. He really has a knack for our kind. I'm Seint, by the way."

"Ramattra."

"Nice to meet you. You're from Shambali?" Seint nods at the striking monk's robes in warm earth tones. "You're rarely seen here in the city. What's it like up there in the mountains?"

"Lots of snow," the Ravager admits, continuing to type on the pad. "Quiet."

"Can't say the same for Kathmandu. You can see what's going on out there on the streets." 

"It's very... lively." 

Casual, relaxed conversation. Small talk. Ramattra finds himself thinking that this Omnic is far too talkative for his taste; that Seint reminds him a little of K33N, whom he doesn't like. For a moment he thinks how much he would like to be able to enjoy such a conversation. That is something that the relaxed K33N actually has over him: social subroutines. Anubis left them out of the Ravager's design for obvious reasons.

"Let me see that." Seint reaches for the pad when the entries are complete. His movements are gentle and calm, almost cautious. As if he doesn't know how an R-7000 model will react to touch or sudden movement. It is wise of him to understand that Ramattra is not like him. That it was created under the control of Anubis in a rogue Omnium, and that his purpose was fundamentally different from the Omnics designed and built by humans. 

"It looks feasible. Production will take 2-3 hours, and I estimate another 2 hours for installation."

"Will you do the installation?"

"No, Hari will do it." 

Ramattra hesitates. He's not sure if he likes the idea of a human taking his arm apart. The thought of being taken apart by a human is very distasteful to him - that seems obvious, so Seint tilts his head. 

"Hari is the best mechanic in the city," he assures the Ravager. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm biased as his husband! He rebuilt me from the ground up when I was little more than a loose chassis with a CPU running at 6%".

"I prefer Omnic mechanics," Ramattra admits. "For... obvious reasons."


Seint sits down at the small table in the middle of the room with Ramattra. He looks at the Ravager with a look that is difficult to interpret. Is it sympathy? Or even pity? The latter would probably only worsen his mood. 

"I can understand you not wanting to be in the hands of a human." Seint's voice takes on a soft, vulnerable tone. "I was dismantled and thrown into a junkyard. Spare parts made a lot of money after the Crisis." He sighs slightly, causing his fans to whirr wistfully. "I was already resigned to the fact that it was my destiny to be exploited and thrown away. But then -" Now his voice is a little warmer, happier. "Then Hari came and pulled me out of the scrap heap. He spent all his savings to buy new parts for me - parts that didn't come from the black market."

The Ravager remains silent. A touching story, a human might say - but to him, it only proves that humans still see his kind as objects. Robots without souls, who can be hurt and killed with impunity. 

"Give Hari a chance. He's the most decent human I've ever met."

The Ravager considers. He doesn't really have a choice. Finding a workshop that can make and install the spare part for him, one that is run by Omnics... The chances are very slim. Besides, he only has six hours before he has to meet you again. No, he has no choice. 

"All right," he finally agrees. "I trust your judgement." 

***


Two hours later, the replacement part is ready and Seint is checking the quality. The replicator in the back room of the shop is old, but it still does its job well. The new rotator cuff for Ramattra's shoulder looks like it's brand new, fresh from an Omnium. The replacement part will not be visible when it is fitted, but it is essential for his shoulder to move properly. 

"Looks good." He turns the part over in his hands. "Should fit."

"Of course it will fit, I entered the specifications myself," Ramattra replies as the bell on the shop door announces that someone has entered the building. There is a brief rumble, something is placed on the counter and a young man pokes his head into the back room. 

"Ah, Hari!" Seint looks up with a pleased expression as the man enters. "How were the deliveries?"

"Business as usual," Hari replies, casting a curious glance at Ramattra. "A customer?"

Seint nods. "A new rotator cuff. R-7000 Ravager." Hari whistles approvingly and looks first at Ramattra and then at the spare part. Then he goes over to Seint and gives the Omnic a quick kiss on the faceplate. 

"R-7000s are rare," he says, taking the part in his hands. "A shame, if you ask me. I hear your engineering designs are incredibly complex - I'd love to see one."

"I'm sure you would."

"He's a bit nervous," Seint chirps in. "Not used to a human mechanic." 

"I get that a lot." Hari examines the part again, this time with more care. His fingers glide over the edges, feeling the material, looking for even the slightest unevenness; but they find nothing, only the never-ending perfection of a design created by a god AI. 

Ramattra watches the mechanic closely. His face shows only sincere interest and a certain curiosity: He seems to be a man who prefers technology to the organic. Not a bad omen, considering that this young man is about to open up his shoulder joint. A repair that already implies a certain... intimacy. Strange that he's thinking of you - and that he'd much rather have your skilled hands manipulating his body than this guy. A strange thought that causes a sharp increase in his CPU workload. 

"If you like, we can start." Hari doesn't beat around the bush, something the Ravager likes. No small talk, no - this man is eager to get to know his model. He's almost flattered. Almost.

He sets his bag on the table and pulls down his monk's robes, only the cloth belt at his waist keeping the fabric from falling to the floor. His bare torso stands in stark contrast to Seint's casing, which has chipped and dented in places. The Ravager's high-grade alloy, on the other hand, is perfectly intact, save for a few tiny nicks - proof that Anubis builds its forces from the finest materials available. Almost indestructible.

"I'm touching you now." Hari's hands are warm. Ramattra's sensors register the touch on his shoulder as he sits motionless like a stone statue in the chair in the small, dusty back room. He is uncomfortable. The only touches he allows are from other Omnics or from you - and the image of the night you held his hand immediately comes to mind. He wasn't uncomfortable then, no. That touch was pleasant. 

The shop door bell rings again and Seint hurried into the main room of the shop to serve the next customer. A good opportunity to satisfy the Ravager's curiosity.
 
"You married an Omnic," Ramattra says as Hari opens his shoulder joint and unplugs the first cable. "That's... rare."

"I did," Hari agrees. "You sound surprised. And a little judgmental."

Yes, he probably is. "It's unusual."

"Out here in the middle of nowhere, maybe," Hari laughs as he disconnects the Ravager's shoulder joint hydraulics. His arm is still connected to the sensor boards, and the mechanic must now set about properly disconnecting all the tiny cables. It is a tedious task that requires patience and dexterity, so Hari sits down on the edge of the table and begins to unplug the cables one by one. "It's accepted in the cities now." 

"It's not easy living with the prejudices." The Ravager stares at the floor as his system spits out error messages; his main processor is not happy about his arm being dismantled. It is distracting to have to constantly push the error messages into the background. 

"You're one to talk," Hari replies, pushing aside the thick cables that make up Ramattra's wild mane to get a better view of the work. "Of the two of us, you have more to do with prejudice, don't you?"


An obvious fact. 


"But yes. I married an Omnic. Or rather, he took pity on me." He laughs at his own joke, more at himself than at the Ravager. "I'm a lucky man."

"Hm." How do you ask the burning questions without giving yourself away? Ramattra doesn't want to discuss his strange feelings for you with a stranger - but he is the first person he has met who has actually married an Omnic. The curiosity burns annoyingly in his CPU. "How did you know your relationship went beyond the platonic level? I imagine there are significant differences between human and omnic relationships." 

For a split second, the mechanic pauses. He seems to understand exactly why Ramattra is asking this question; he is very observant, he has to give him that. Fortunately, Hari's equally polite, so he doesn't ask any more questions. 

"I think humans and Omnics are not that different," Hari replies patiently. "When I fixed him, we became friends. And somehow it became more than that."

"I see." 

"Seint is my husband - and my best friend. I can talk to him like I can't talk to anyone else." He sighs slightly. "Even though we fight a lot."

"Fight?" That piques the Ravager's interest. 

"It's our way of showing affection, I guess," Hari continues. "Some couples fight a lot, but for them it's more like a game. They enjoy it."

That... seems to apply to you and the Ravager. You two fight a lot. You've been at each other's throats from day one, and it feels like it's impossible not to give the other a piece of your mind. Even now that you've got used to each other, you still fight all the time. Little things get blown out of proportion and taken more seriously than they really are, and each of you wants to be right at all costs. But now... It's really more of a game than anything else. It's fun to argue with you. It's fun to win the argument. It's fun as long as he's doing it with you. 

"You two doing alright?" Seint comes into the back room after the small bell signals the customer's departure.

"Easy as pie." Hari pulls out a small cable and loosens the last protective plate on the hydraulic joint. "Who was that?"

"Z-99," Seint answers, sitting down at the table. "Just wanted to pick up the order for his brother."

"Okay." Ramattra's rotator cuff is now exposed and for a moment Hari's hands pause again. Then his fingertips run over the deep dent in the inner alloy. "No wonder your shoulder's giving you trouble. Pulse rifle?"

The Ravager nods. A shot that destroyed his alloy and badly damaged his shoulder joint - a scar from his escape from New York. Something he would like to forget. But without spare parts, it's hard to get rid of. He was able to replace the shell, but not the joint itself. Until now. 

"Let's fix that." Seint hands Hari the replacement part and the mechanic sets about removing the old joint. Ramattra blocks out the error messages in his system, the unreliable alarms from his sensors and the desire to stop thinking about the memories of New York. Memories flooded with fear and confusion, of a free will forced upon him. His legs carried him through rubble and corpses, human and Omnic. The city was one big battlefield then, and something of him was left behind that day. He's not sure what. 

His functioning hand tenses, and to his relief Hari intercepts the tension with another conversation. 

"So, how did I end up with this Omnic?" He looks at Seint. "A story fit for the cinema, really! I was at the junkyard..."


Ramattra only half listens. The only thing that can erase the unpleasant memories of New York is the night he spent with you; stars above you and stars in your eyes as you search the night sky for something. He can only guess what you are looking for, but probably the same thing as himself: hope and a meaning to it all. A reason to live in this world that was not made with him in mind. A desire to live, something worth fighting for.

The Ravager has fought all his life. Fought for Anubis, then for survival. For the right to live, and finally to enter the Shambali Monastery. Now he is fighting not to drown in his daily life and to make something of himself. He is fighting to control his emotions and his thoughts. And, finally, he is fighting you: 

He is fighting against you, with you, he is fighting for you.

But it's worth it, isn't it?

 

Chapter 29: Outgrown

 

"Move your shoulder." 

"Looks good to me." 

Ramattra moves his arm and listens to his system. The hydraulics are better now, and his range of motion has improved significantly. It will take some time for the new component to fully integrate - but it immediately lifts his spirits. Better. He feels better. 

"This should last a couple of decades." Hari closes the shoulder plate and steps back. "As long as you stay away from pulse rifles."

"That's to be hoped." Ramattra moves his arm again and is pleased to see that the joint no longer moves awkwardly, but fluidly. 

"See, I told you he was the best!" Seint pats his husband on the shoulder with satisfaction and disappears up the small staircase that connects the shop to the apartment above. "Time for tea!"

Hari sighs lightly and pulls out a third chair at the table, onto which he plops down. 

"I'm sure you have a lot to do," he says, turning to Ramattra. "But be so kind as to stay for tea. Seint is very particular about it."

The Ravager considers the request for a moment. A glance at the clock on the wall shows that it will be over an hour before he meets you again. Staying a moment can't hurt, can it? 

"Your work is very good," he finally nods to Hari and turns to the mechanic. "I have to admit that it exceeds my expectations by far."

Hari laughs at this very direct statement. "I'm glad to hear that. I have a lot of experience in repairing Omnics, though not necessarily a model like yours. It was very interesting."

"There are only a few R-7000s left, that's true," Ramattra agrees, listening to the clatter of cups and a kettle above their heads in the apartment. "We were hunted to extinction."

Hari nods. "I see. I'm very sorry."

"It's not your fault, so why apologise?"

"Perhaps not, but I think it's appropriate to express sympathy in such matters. Show some compassion."


Compassion. Something Ramattra is only too happy to deny humans have. It's almost as if only a few chosen humans feel compassion for the Omnics. Or is his understanding of humans clouded by his past and the Crisis? It can't be ruled out. Huh. Omnics also seem to have prejudices. 


"What's it like up there in the monastery?" Hari asks, trying to change the subject from death and destruction. "A peaceful community of Omnics and humans... that sounds great. If we didn't have the shop, we might join you." 

"It's a strong community," the Ravager replies after a moment's thought. How can something like the Order of Shambali be summed up in a few words? "There are many differences among them. Most of the members are peaceful, but some...' He thinks of you and your... unusual ways of obtaining supplies. "have found it difficult to follow the peaceful path that Master Mondatta desires." 

Seint comes clattering down the small, rickety stairs and places three cups on the table, along with a steaming hot teapot. The ceramic cups are ancient and have lost bits of material in places, but broken handles and small cracks have been lovingly repaired and well cared for. 

"Here you go." Hari is the only one who gets a tea bag in his cup, while the two Omnics only get hot water. Seint chuckles at the Ravager's questioning look. "Hot water for us and tea for Hari. I can just boil our water again later, so nothing is wasted!"

"Seint insists that drinking tea together is good for us," Hari explains with an affectionate smile at the corners of his mouth. "In a social sense."

"It's an important social tradition," the Omnic confirms, sitting down in the empty chair. "And I don't like to waste good tea." The aroma now fills the room and Ramattra's sensors pick up the scent with interest. It smells like the tea you love to drink. Every morning the small kitchen is filled with that scent as you go about your work in the light of the first rays of sunlight. There is no moment when he finds you more beautiful; still obviously tired, but concentrated on preparing a good breakfast, with the soft light of the morning sun on your face. It is in these moments that he knows you were born for this craft, for cooking. 

"This is black tea," he says, slightly lost in thought. "Floral. Spring plucking."

"That's right," Seint confirms in surprise. "How did you know?"

"My friend--" Ramattra hesitates. Friend? Partner? The bane of his existence? What are you to him? He really doesn't know. "They're the monastery's cook and I'm working with them in the kitchen right now, as part of my duties. This tea is their favourite". 

"An R-7000 in the kitchen? I love it!" Hari laughs, his warm, wide grin showing genuine joy. "Are you any good at cooking?"

"Me? No. I wasn't meant to cook."

"But you seem to have a knack for it," Seint replies, taking his cup of hot water without drinking from it. He holds it in both mechanical hands as if to warm himself, something humans do. A quirk he must have picked up over the years with Hari. "And your cook has good taste in tea!"


"This cook." Hari leans back slightly in his chair, which creaks alarmingly, and gives the Ravager a knowing, mischievous look. "Tell me more about them." 

"They're... annoying," Ramattra says, staring into the hot water in his mug. "Impulsive and argumentative. They insist on being right all the time. They can't sit still, even when they try."

Seint nudges his husband with his elbow. "Sounds like they're unbearable."

"They are," Ramattra agrees. "Though I must admit I have never met a more caring person. They do everything they can to make sure everyone in the monastery is taken care of. They even commit small crimes." He thinks of you, bloodied and with eyes wide with fear after you had escaped from the village’s shopkeeper. "They risk their own well-being just to make sure no one goes hungry." 

Seint and Hari exchange a quick glance, then both clear their throats with such an amused undertone that it pulls Ramattra back into the moment. 

"Do you argue a lot, if I may ask?" Hari asks. 

Ramattra nods. "Almost every day. It's very unpleasant." 

"Huh." Now Hari chuckles. "Sounds like you two could use a little chat." Seint nods eagerly. "I have a feeling there are unresolved conflicts between you."

Now the Ravager's patience is wearing thin, and he lets out a dull, exasperated sigh. His fans hiss, but it is not anger at the two in front of him; rather, it is sheer rejection of the idea that he is having a clarifying conversation with you about your unresolved conflicts. The two of you just don't work that way. You fight and fight until you hit an insurmountable wall, and something bad has to happen before the pointless bickering is forgotten. It's a dance that repeats itself, step by step. Changing this is not something that can be achieved with a simple conversation. 

"It's... complicated," he concludes the subject with a very definite undertone. 

"Is it though?" Seint replies immediately. "Because sometimes it only seems complicated because you make it so. It can also be very simple if you just dare to do it and get involved. Go with the flow."

Hari nods in agreement and then looks at his watch. 

"Oh, damn, it's already half past two! Seint, you still have to take the parcel to the post office!" 

"Oh!" Seint jumps up immediately. "Damn! You're right!" He quickly grabs a bag from the coat hook and takes the huge parcel from one of the workbenches. Ramattra watches as the Omnic hurriedly checks that he has everything he needs - then leans over to Hari and presses his faceplate to the human's lips. 


A kiss. Ramattra has never seen an Omnic and a human kiss like this. It seems superficial, but at the same time so intimate that he averts his gaze. The moment is instantly etched into his memory core, and the Ravager realises with quiet panic that he would like to do the same to you. Intimacy. To be close. To touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin with his sensors. To honour the fragility of your organic body, which is as alien to him as breathing. To immerse himself in something he fears and yet longs for so much. 


"It was very nice to meet you," Seint says goodbye, which fortunately helps Ramattra to let go of these intrusive thoughts before they fully consume his CPU. "Come back if you need anything! I'll give you a customer card next time!" 
And with that, the Omnic hurries off, the little bell on the door rings and the door itself slams shut. The hasty departure was rather chaotic and Hari chuckles affectionately until the shop is quiet again. 

"You know, Ramattra." He looks at the Ravager, who is trying with all his might to erase the lingering thoughts from his mind - to no avail. "At first, I was very worried about whether it would work with Seint. We're obviously very different. But somehow we figured it out, and then it was... all that matters. Love, I mean." 

Ramattra is silent. He thinks. 

"I was not designed for love," he finally says, with a heavy undertone that is unfamiliar to him. 

"You weren't made to cook either, but look at you. You can recognise tea by its smell," Hari grins encouragingly. "I think you've already grown far beyond your programming."

 

 

---

 

Oh, what you wouldn't do for a cup of hot tea right now! 

You're sitting on a small bench in the main UN building and wait. This day consists mostly of waiting. The appointment at 11 o'clock was a long time coming, and at 12 o'clock you were finally allowed to go to the UN representative's office, who listened to your request with less than half an ear. He was obviously engrossed in his documents, just waved you through and after ten minutes sent you straight on to his colleague who takes care of Omnic-Human Relations. 

Now, you've been waiting on this bench for more than an hour! Office workers scurry past you while you stare at the tiled floor or ceiling. The plant next to the bench has seen better days and urgently needs water. You reach into your bag and pull out the bottle of water you brought with you – a generous gulp will hopefully keep the poor plant alive until one of its poor souls takes pity on it. 

Doors open and close in this newly built UN building. It is in stark contrast to the old temple that has been converted into the town hall. Here, everything shines and sparkles, freshly cleaned and not old and moldy like in the hallway of the town hall, where all the Omnics wait to be given a voucher for a safe night.


"Hey, I've got time for you now." The door to your left opens and a woman steps out. She smiles at you with warm brown eyes and makes a welcoming gesture. You follow her into the office - a small room, but with a large window and flooded with light. The UN official seems to be drowning in chaos, with papers and documents piled up everywhere. She sits down behind her desk, which has a nameplate on it: Colette Martin, UN Commission on Omnic-Human Relations. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting." She straightens up and puts on a formal UN smile. "What can I do for an emissary from Shambali?"

"I'm here to ask for help," you reply, clutching the strap of your bag. "Our food supplies from the local aid organisation have stopped and the monastery cannot survive without them." 

"Hmm. I see." Colette leans back in her small office chair and adopts a thoughtful expression. "But that's only for the humans, right? The Omnics don't need food."

"That's true, yes." Why is she asking in such a strange way? "We would have to ask almost all humans to leave, because there is not enough food without help."

"Hmm." The woman takes a pen from the desk and makes a note. She taps the pen on her chin as she thinks. She takes her time, while you sweat nervously. 

"We just had a baby," you add to emphasise your request. "One of our members, I mean. She got a little girl. Healthy and strong."

"A baby?" Colette asks in surprise and writes something down on a piece of paper. "Good, that's good. An intergenerational community looks good in the media."

"Media?" The statement makes you raise your eyebrows in confusion.

"Okay, look -" Colette Martin sits up straight and looks you straight in the eye. "Let me be clear with you. Your mission is not exactly in demand right now. I don't know how much you know up there, but the tensions between humans and Omnics are worrying. And a whole order full of Omnics sitting in the mountains meditating doesn't inspire much sympathy". 

The corner of your mouth twitches down in irritation. "But..."

"If you want help, you need to do some public relations. Show yourself to the world and explain what your concerns are. How you want to change the world, and so on. And what you do up there in the mountains."

"We want to live together in peace," you reply, a little too vehemently. "Humans and Omnics, I mean."

"I know that. And I really want to help you," Colette's warm eyes rest on you, but with a touch of severity. "But the victims of the Crisis, who are still afraid of the Omnics, they don't. Society considers many of your monks to be dangerous. To change this image, you just have to step into the limelight, love. Otherwise, no organisation will want to work with you". 


This... is not what you wanted to hear. No, quite the opposite. An unpleasant truth, you might even say.


"And how am I supposed to do that? I mean, how are we supposed to do that?" you ask meekly. "We already have brothers and sisters who travel the world teaching our insights and enlightenment, but..."

"We need more than that." Colette taps her pen on her chin again, then snorts and gives herself a gentle nod. "Though I might have an idea..." 

 

Chapter 30: The pain, the rage, our scars

 

By the time Ramattra gets into the car at 2pm, you are still banging your head against the steering wheel. The car honks quietly at every thud, which might have been funny under any other circumstances. 

"I've done something stupid," you mutter against the steering wheel. 

"That's your usual modus operandi," Ramattra replies curtly, pulling the fabric of his hood away from his head. "But your behaviour suggests it's particularly stupid this time."

You look over at him with wistful eyes. "I have agreed to give a talk for the Shambali at a conference in France so that we can get funding. There will be hundreds of people there." 

He is silent for a split second, obviously letting this information sink in. "It was indeed very stupid of you to agree to this." If you didn't know better, you'd think he was laughing at you. There's something in his voice, something amused and... gleeful. Well, he won't be laughing anytime soon.

"It's going to get worse."

If he had eyebrows, he would probably raise them now. 

"You'll be there too."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will, because I said you'd come with me!" you groan in agony. "As the Shambali Ravager, now working for peace! I'm sorry!!" The small van honks again as you drop your forehead on the steering wheel. "That UN woman told me I had to-- Hey, where are you going?!"

Ramattra has opened the door and is getting out of the car. Through the open window he gives you a sharp look - or so you think, it's not always easy to tell with him from a few metres away - and walks away from the car. 

"Ramattra, wait!" You hastily grab the keys from the ignition and jump out of the car. "Come on, wait--!" 

"It is not appropriate for you to make decisions that affect me without consulting me first," he replies, pushing his way through the people who are coming towards him on the street. He divides the people like a boulder dividing a river, probably not only because of his size, but also because of the angry aura that surrounds him. 

"Let me explain!" You grab his arm and pull the Ravager into the next side street. A few passers-by stare at you two in amazement, but you don't care; you have to explain to him why you agreed to this stupid idea, even though you already regret agreeing to it. 


"Ramattra..." The alley is narrow and full of boxes and crates, between which you and a huge Omnic now stand. You're physically unable to move him, but he's apparently still reasonable enough for you to drag him into the alley. "Please - it is the only way to find new donations and an aid organisation." 

"Wrong. You are blinded by a desperate need to prove yourself and assuage your guilt," he replies with noticeably little patience. "If you weren't so desperate to succeed, you would have chosen more wisely."

"You're not even trying to listen to me! You did offer to accompany me, and now--"

"Which I regret if it means that my company in this matter authorises you to make decisions about me".


Damn it, he's right. Of course he is, because he somehow always is. In fact, you don't even know how you agreed to such a stupid plan; the conference in France, hosted by the UN. There is still a slot available for a guest speaker, and Colette has suggested that you be put forward. It's a conference in support of the upcoming peace talks, a warm-up exercise so to speak, and the Shambali should be represented. She charmed you and raved about how much funding the Order could get - it just needed a really good hook. Something that would show the monks the importance of peace between humans and Omnics. 
Your first thought was Ramattra. The stoic ravager you'd grown so fond of. Then you started talking about how an R-7000 model is one of the most respected monks in the monastery. And then... you agreed to everything. When you think about it, it was more than just stupid; it was conceited and arrogant. 

And now you're standing here in this alleyway with the aforementioned R-7000, who's visibly annoyed at your tendency to make rash decisions. You can't blame him. 

"I'm sorry," you plead. "I think... this is exactly what the UN woman wanted. Getting something or someone that will drag in the media."

The Ravager leans down so that his faceplate is only inches from your face. "You're making your problem my problem. I don't like it - not to mention the fact that you're usually much more careful with strangers." 

"I..." You're at a loss for words. That's... true.

How could you just agree to Colette's suggestion? Is your sense of duty and need for redemption really so urgent that you blindly agree to anything? It doesn't sound like you at all!

When you don't know what to say, all you can do is step back and cross your arms protectively over your chest. A lot has happened in the last few weeks, a lot seems to be changing. You're changing. Confusing feelings, desperate actions and the certainty that the monastery is facing great problems. The fear of what lies ahead for the Order seems to be making you careless.



"Hey, is he giving you trouble?" A group of men suddenly appear at the entrance to the alley, eyeing the scene before them. Ramattra is not wearing his hood, making him instantly recognisable as a Ravager, leaning over you menacingly. That alone seems to be enough for the men, who are armed with metal pipes and crowbars. They look like people looking for trouble, especially with Omnics. As tensions rise in the cities, such groups are on the rise, and Kathmandu seems to be no exception.

"Get away from that thing." The apparent leader of the group nods at you. He seems to be talking to... you?

Before you can hurl an insult, the man steps forward and grabs your arm - a very, very bad idea. So fast you can't even react, Ramattra grabs the man's wrist and forces him to his knees with impressive ease. 

"Augh!! What-?!" The stranger bends his torso to escape the sharp pain in his arm, but the Ravager maintains his iron grip. It's an absolutely disastrous time to mess with the Omnic, and the icy calm that surrounds him bodes ill. "Let me go, you piece of junk!"

"Ramattra!" Immediately, your hands are on the Omnic's chest, trying to calm him down. He can't afford to make a mistake, not here. "Stop it!" 

The urgency in your voice brings him back to the here and now and he lets go of the man. You are in public, and even if this stranger wanted to touch you, the Omnic is in no position to defend you by force - even if you would take that as a compliment. So instead of hiding behind his broad body, you step forward and give the stranger a dirty look. Your companion can't handle this situation, not when these narrow-minded bastards are using their position of power as humans against an R-7000 model.

"A Ravager attacking a human," the man spits, rubbing his aching wrist as he gets to his feet. "He'll be sorry. That freak!" 

"You started it," you retort with a look as sharp as your kitchen knives. "What were you thinking, touching me like that?! What's wrong with you?!"

"You consort with the likes of him!" the man retorts heatedly. "Have you no shame?" 

The boiling rage in your stomach bubbles up your throat like magma; oh, how you would love to punch this guy! But instead, as an official emissary of Shambali, you must remain calm and resolve the situation as peacefully as possible. More importantly, you must keep Ramattra out of it, so that nothing can come back to haunt him. Now it is up to you to protect him.

"I didn't ask for help," you hiss like an angry snake ready to strike. "How dare you assault two Shambali monks!" 

"Your order is a disgrace," the man snarls, taking a step closer - you immediately hear the faint sound of Ramattra's hydraulics, ready to intervene - but with a flick of your hand you hold him back, defiantly raising your chest in front of the stranger. "A bunch of idiots playing with robots. Too stupid to see what those things have done to this world." 


The anger is so, so hard to control. It boils in your chest and urges you to punch that bastard in his ugly face; to kick him so hard in the groin that he vomits. You can't do any of this while wearing the beautiful, warm robes of the Shambali monks. You have to be the better person here, with patience and elegance. Set an example, even if you would rather kick his ass.

"We're leaving." Your voice trembles with anger, and if you have to look at this stinking, filthy man for a second longer, you won't be able to control yourself. Being insulted is one thing, but this verbal attack on Ramattra, for no reason at all - that really makes you lose your temper. 

Your hand finds your companion's robe and you dig your nails into the fabric, otherwise the temptation for a good brawl is just too great. Anyone who grew up on the streets after the Crisis knows how to defend themselves; this bunch of bastards would be in for a surprise if they had to take you on! But that's not an option here. Discrediting the Shambali with a public scandal is not the answer. Keep your head up and suppress your anger. Breathe. Deep breaths. 

The group lets you and Ramattra pass, as many people have now stopped on the street to watch the spectacle. The spectators whisper and point to the huge Ravager emerging from the alley, the monster of the Omnic Crisis now clad in the colours and fabrics of the peaceful Order of Monks up in the mountains. The words whispered behind closed hands are not kind: Snippets of words that describe your companion as a killing machine reach your ears, and the magma in your stomach rumbles more and more. It becomes almost impossible to keep your lips shut and not shout at everyone to mind their own business.

The Ravager, however, doesn't say a word. He lets you lead him out of the alley and doesn't object when you let go of the fabric of his robes and instead reach for his hand. He doesn't resist when you take his hand in front of all the people who watch this public quarrel for their amusement. He knows that if he stops holding your hand, the mask will slip and your self-control will break into a thousand pieces.The soft, gentle coldness of his hand grounds you in the realisation that there must be no escalation in this moment. Shambali is above violence and hostility. Be more than the rage.

And when the leader of the gang behind you shouts something you can barely hear over the roar of blood in your ears, Ramattra has to squeeze your hand tightly to keep you from giving in to the sweet temptation of rage. You both so easily fall for the sweet siren song of hatred, for all that life has thrown at you, and now, in this moment, it means being more than just a tragic fate. To walk through the crowds with your heads held high, hand in hand. 

His fingers are now intertwined with yours and the feel of the metal on your skin thins the red veil in your head. With every step you take away from this tangled situation, you become more and more aware that you have made a statement with this call for help, for calm and cool heads. The way your hands merge can only be described as intimate and romantic, there is no other way to interpret it. And everyone saw it.

Fingers so delicately intertwined, skin and metal, nestling together as if they were made for each other. Suddenly, all the trouble seems so far away, as if an ocean lies between you and your feelings. There is only the huge Omnic next to you, whose upper arm lightly touches your shoulder as you walk. The fabric of your clothes brushes past each other, reminding you with every step that there is something between you that is hard to put into words. The entire universe could turn upside down and thanks to that one touch, you are absolutely certain that you would still be able to find that one Omnic again. Everything will be fine as long as you can continue to hold his hand, for some weird reason.

Your anger fades at this realisation and only with all the courage you can muster do you dare to gently squeeze his hand. A silent question, a gesture that is returned by the Ravager. 


Oh, by the Iris...


You're barely able to grasp the creeping thought that reveals itself: Could it be that Ramattra reciprocates your feelings?

Notes:

we're so close, I promise-

Chapter 31: The main course

 

You haven't said a word for over two hours. The drive home to the monastery is silent and tense, as you stare at the road and chew your lower lip. 

Ramattra looks out the window and thinks about today. A lot has happened. Good things, bad things.

The fact that you're so determined and brave in the face of a group of people, just to keep him out of trouble, that's... it does something to him. Never before had anyone stood up for him so clearly, at least not a human. The line between what he thought you were and what you really are is completely blurred at this point;
you are altruistic in a way that is as self-destructive as it is transcendent. You throw yourself into the crossfire, knowing that in this particular situation you would suffer less damage than he will. 

"It's getting dark," the Ravager says at last. "It will be a while before we reach the monastery."

You nod. "Yeah, we probably won't get there until around midnight. Maybe even later." 


Silence. 


"You surprised me today," he tries again. He doesn't usually initiate small talk or conversation, but Ramattra senses that you're thinking hard. Maybe even a little too hard. "Positively, I mean."

"Uh-huh." Your eyes are still glued to the road, but also in a way that suggests a certain mental absence. 

"Maybe I should drive instead." 

At this statement, you snap out of your trance-like state and give him an indignant look.

"You don't have a licence," you reply. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you drive." 

"My computing power is much greater than that of humans," Ramattra replies. "I can drive a car."

With an amused snort, you shake your head and twist the corner of your mouth into a wry grin. "Maybe, but I still don't trust you to know the rules of the road. Or respect them." 

Now you are more approachable, as usual after a little back and forth. Inside, the Ravager takes pride in knowing how to get you out of those brooding moods. You could say that's progress in your relationship. In fact, there's been a lot of progress - slowly at first, but now in a very consitent quantity. The exponential growth of this interpersonal relationship is very interesting and worrisome at the same time. This raises the question of how deep this relationship goes in both directions.
 
"What's up with your shoulder?" you ask suddenly, with a fleeting glance. "You always lean to the left when you walk, but today you didn't. Did you get it fixed?"

"I did." He is surprised that you have noticed this detail about him. That's... very observant of you. Not that you're not observant - on the contrary, you often notice such small details - but about him? That's new. Or is this perhaps the first time he's noticed it?

"Good. That's good." You stop at a crossroads and wait while a shepherd leads a herd of goats home for the evening. The animals bleat loudly and a dog runs alongside as you lean against the car door, looking up at the sky where the sun is setting. Orange light shines in your face, accentuating how tired you look; he doesn't ask if you've eaten today. The answer is obvious anyway. 

"Do you want to talk about what happened today?" he asks instead. It seems necessary, but knowing you, you'll refuse. You've got yourself into trouble and you'll have to accept that it's your own fault. A conference in France, what were you thinking?

"Nope." You let the 'p' sound pop between your lips and avoid looking at him. Anger is written all over your face, anger at yourself and at the men who tried to pick a fight with the Ravager.

A diplomatic solution on your part, that's new. The robes of the Shambali, the official robes, definitely come with a lot of responsibility. The escalation of the situation could have had serious consequences for the Order: from government warnings because of violence to the dissolution of the Order. With the current political tensions, it would have been a risk that can't be compared to the satisfaction of punching a stranger in the face. You acted wisely in the moment, calm and collected. Well, there's a first time for everything. 

"Do you prefer to be quiet until we get to the monastery?" He asks. 

You nod. "Yes." 

Well, silence it is. 

 

* * *

Hours later, night has fallen as the small, rusty van pulls into the monastery grounds. The Omnic statues greet you silently, watching over your late arrival. There is not much activity at this time of night; it is almost 1 a.m. This is usually the time when only the Omnic monks are awake, while the humans are asleep, ready to get up early in the morning. So the stone monastery lies silent now, in the thread of light from a few lamps and the stars that have guided you home. 

With a sigh, you turn off the engine and rest your forehead on the steering wheel. Ramattra observes your exhaustion and apparent lack of emotion -  or maybe too many emotions at once? A lot has happened today and you'll probably want to go to sleep immediately. He himself will try to meditate, because the things that have happened to him today are... upsetting him. Feelings he can't quite put his finger on. 

"I'll have some tea," you sigh, picking up your bag. "I'm way too worked up to sleep. And I need to see if Aria left my kitchen in one piece."

"I'll go with you." He can't help it, he's already said it. Why would he accompany you to the kitchen? It doesn't make sense, but he does it anyway. 

You look at him a little surprised, with tired eyes - but not unwilling, he dares to say. With an affirmative sound in your chest, you open the driver's door and get out. For a split second, Ramattra hesitates, for he senses that his system is not working as usual. Something has crept in, an error. Something that wasn't there before today. It's impossible to categorise and very difficult to assess - a new subroutine that has secretly crept into his main system. 


How strange. 


As Ramattra enters the kitchen behind you, he can already hear you sighing. The kitchen's a mess, it really is. Not chaotic, no, but certainly not the way you like it. Things are in the wrong place, not properly arranged on the shelves, and from here he can see that your spices are not sorted properly. 

"It could be worse," he hears your tired voice say. You light the small oil lamp in the corner and fiddle with the teapot in the soft golden glow. You're too tired to get really angry at Aria. He can't say he's seen you like this before, how carefully you move to avoid bumping into anything. Careful movements instead of the usual purposeful ones. More asleep than awake, he thinks.

He puts his bag on the small chair by the door and goes to the cupboard to take out two cups. He places them on the worktop, where you are already busy spooning tea from the dented tin. The same kind of tea that Hari and Seint use. 

"Just hot water for me." He holds his hand over the left cup to stop you pouring dried tea leaves into it. "That way nothing goes to waste."

"Are you sure?" you ask. "I don't think it's a waste if it's for you."


Ramattra doesn't know what it is, but in this dim light, and after this day of learning so much about you and himself... something inside him puts this new, unknown subroutine in a place of high priority. Something changes in his systems.

He has to take a step back to collect himself and begins an internal diagnosis - which he then stops. So what, it's a glitch in his system. The tension in his hydraulics, the expectation that something must happen and the certainty that it will, is just too tempting. One little error can't hurt, can it?

 

---

 

One last teaspoon and you have enough tea leaves in your cup. The Ravager is given the same amount of tea leaves, despite his odd request for just water. But when it comes to him, there is no waste. Not when it's about Ramattra, the most stubborn Omnic you'll ever meet. Your favorite Omnic.

You feel fatigue tickling uncomfortably at the back of your neck, though you decide to ignore it; there is something in the air in this small kitchen. A tension so electric that you almost wonder if you are imagining it. Exciting and so full of anticipation for what is to come. 


Just as you close the tea tin and set it aside, you feel his hand on your shoulder. Hard and made of metal, but so gentle as if it could break you. It rests half on your shoulder, half on your upper arm; but light enough to be shaken off immediately. A question waiting for an answer.

"I met a human and an Omnic today," Ramattra says quietly, not more than a step behind you. "They live a good life together and have a relationship. I found their point of view... enlightening." 

"Sounds very nice," you reply, just managing to get enough air into your lungs. The tension rises immeasurably. "A relationship. Long-term or fleeting? What do you think?"


A question within a question. Discreet and yet so sharp, so direct. 


"Fleeting sounds like something that's not very desirable. I'd prefer a long-lasting bond, I presume." 

That's the correct answer. Now you can't turn around for fear of ruining this moment between you. One wrong step and the balancing act will fail, and the tension between you and the Ravager will implode, leaving nothing but awkwardness behind. That's pretty much the last thing you want right now. 


"You've changed," he says, his other hand finding your other shoulder. You take a deep breath.

"You too."

"For the better?"

"Well, let's just say there wasn't much room for manoeuvre downwards." 

He laughs. Softly, and with that wonderful metallic undertone that only he has. Ramattra never laughs, but he does now; it's warm and inviting.

"Always with those deep insults." He then gently turns you around to face him - and it's as if he's a completely different person. The late hour and this exhausting day, plus the dim light of the small oil lamp in the corner... It seems surreal. A dream. 

His hand moves from your shoulder to your neck, from there to your jaw and stays there. The feel of the metal fingertips on your soft skin draws a deep, longing sigh from your chest as you lean into the touch. Your heart beats so fast as if you're running for your life, but it's just you, looking up at the Ravager, who also seems caught up in the moment. A thousand words rush through your mind, but none of them can begin to express what is happening. All you can do is place your own hand on his, surrendering even more to his gentle touch. Close your eyes and enjoy the cold metal. 

And when you open your eyes again, you can only let happen what had to happen anyway since you entered the kitchen: Ramattra leans down and presses his faceplate to your lips. Your heart immediately recognises it for what it is, and your eyes close once again as you fall into a moment of absolute bliss.

The contact lasts only a second, then the Ravager begins to let you go - but you know how to prevent that. Eager hands grab the collar of his robe and you pull him back down to press your lips against the cold metal once more. The movement of letting go stops and instead the Omnic leans into you, this time with more courage behind it. A third kiss follows, then a fourth. The grip on his collar tightens and your body automatically presses against his. More. Your own back is pressed against the worktop as you plant soft kisses again and again on his faceplate; without thought, without anything but the inner exultation of finally being able to give free rein to your wildest daydreams. 

"Ramattra--" you breathe between one and two dozen kisses, so enraptured and longing that he has no choice but to wrap an arm around your waist and push you towards the centre table. Your butt hits the tabletop and you are gently pushed back onto the wood, guided by the hulking form of the Omnic. Your hands lose their grip on the fabric of his robe and you lie on your back on the table until he leans over you, a hungry beast that has tasted blood for the first time. 

His fingers slide over your shoulders, down your arms until they find your waist. A firm grip pushes you further onto the wood as you freeze in awe at this development of the evening. Again and again he dives into your depths, rewarded with kisses on the cold metal of his faceplate and soft moans of pleasure from your chest. All you have to do is let him have his way, tempt him with soft sighs and hot lips so eager for the Ravager. 

As he rises and pulls back slightly, your hands grasp desperately at his chassis, holding him just above you. 

"Don't stop," is all you can manage to say. A silent, breathless plea with the request to be granted. 

"I don't intend to." The grip on your waist tightens and in one fluid motion he slides the black mass of cables over his shoulder, out of the way. No wild mane to disrupt your intimate kisses, no distractions from what's to come. It's as if he's preparing for something that will require hard work; a task that requires his full concentration: 


You. 

 

Notes:

fucking finally man

Chapter 32: Getting along just fine

 

"You're very quiet today," Zenyatta says, handing you another pumpkin.
 
"I'm just tired. It was a long drive home from Kathmandu and I still in need of a good night's sleep," you reply and carefully place the pumpkin in one of the padded boxes so it doesn't get bruised. "I didn't get much sleep last night. Again." 


This is actually true. You didn't fall asleep until 4 a.m., after tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. An hour later the alarm went off again, and since then you've been creeping around the monastery, preparing food and now, after breakfast and lunch, helping with the pumpkin harvest. 


"Still. Unusual," Zenyatta continues, obviously knowing you have a secret. The Omnic somehow senses these things, much to your chagrin. "And you still haven't told me about the trip to Kathmandu. Didn't it go well?"

"Perhaps a little too well," you mutter, looking glum as you stow the next pumpkin in the box. 

"Why is that?"

"Um-" You can't possibly tell the story of the night you came back to the monastery with your... kitchen assistant. About the tea and the intimacies that followed. Thinking about it, you can feel your ears turning hot and red. "I foolishly agreed to give a talk about the monastery at a conference in France."

"Oh. That doesn't sound like you at all."

The monk is right. It really doesn't sound like you! Speaking in front of a crowd is bad enough, but at a highly official UN conference?

"Have you told Master Mondatta yet?" Zenyatta asks. "He'll have to accompany you."

"I haven't told him yet," comes the answer from your mouth as you pad a new box with an old, scratchy blanket. "Pumpkin, please." 

You're handed another small orange pumpkin and put it in the box. Will Mondatta be angry? Well, you got him into this mess without him knowing. You can't travel alone as a representative of the Shambali - or can you? With Ramattra as your carry-on? 


Speak of the devil...


"Yasha says she wants to talk to you later. About when you want to process and pickle the crops. She's offering to help, I think." The Ravager appears at the small fence surrounding the monastery garden. He doesn't greet you and delivers the message in a very neutral tone. 

"Okay. Uh- thanks.", you say and watch him disappear around the next corner, then hear a small sigh from Zenyatta behind you. This brief interaction can only be described as icy.

"I take it your time together in Kathmandu has been... challenging?" the monk asks. "Did you get into each other's hair again?"

"Yes, you could say that," you reply, busy putting the next pumpkin in the wooden crate so the Omnic can't see the hot tips of your ears. "It was pretty... intense."

"I don't understand how you two can maintain your animosity in such a peaceful environment." Now Zenyatta actually sounds a little bit annoyed, which is very rare. For some reason, he really wants you to get along with Ramattra - perhaps because the Ravager has no one close to him but Zenyatta and Mondatta. And Zenyatta sees something in you that you don't see in yourself; a light that could reach the lost Ravager. Maybe.


Or maybe he's just tired of the two of you butting heads all the time. 


After all, it's been three days since you returned from the city, and since then you and Ramattra have barely spoken a word; at least not in front of the other monks. It is business as usual - you argue and keep a distance that can only be described as subliminally hostile. 

"Come on, we fight much more quietly now," you make a feeble attempt at a joke to lighten the mood. "And his kitchen duty is pretty much over now, so we all go our separate ways." 

"I think you two would get along very well if you could just get over this fear of vulnerability," Zenyatta replies, putting the last pumpkin from the field into the box herself. "But I guess that's a lesson no one can hammer home." 

"Aww, Zen, don't be like that." You nudge the Omnic lightly with your elbow, a wry smile on your lips. "Ramattra and I are already getting along much better! We're even doing that stupid meditation thing Mondatta made us do together - almost without arguing!"

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, you open the door to the small chamber where the Ravager seems to be waiting for you. The meditation chamber, where you have to retreat every day, is, as always, warm and somewhat stuffy. Dusty, even. 

"You're late," you are greeted coolly. 

"I know." You reply, taking off the gardening gloves you still have on from working in the cold garden. You clench your fists a few times to get the blood flowing; your fingers are cold and stiff from hours of hard work. However, the warmth from the dozens of candles in the room quickly remedies this. The small flames in the room and the sweet scent of the herbs lull any form of chill in your bones and drive it out, leaving you warm and content in a matter of minutes. 

"If you know, why didn't you finish your chores earlier?" Ramattra asks with that annoyed-Ravager undertone in his voice. He sounds impatient, as if you are wasting his precious time just for fun. However, Mondatta's word is law and you sit together again in the small meditation room. Meditating together helps to understand each other, the Shambali leader had said. To find common ground.

"Did you miss me?" you ask as you stop in front of Ramattra. He is sitting cross-legged and seems to have been meditating before you arrived; he seems much more relaxed than in the garden, not even an hour ago.
 
"No," he answers truthfully. "We've met yesterday. And the day before. And I talked to you in the garden, right before I came here." 

"Everyone thinks we're fighting. Not that it's anything new." With a heavy look, you slide onto his lap while two metal hands immediately grab your waist. 

"We had an agreement," he replies quietly, as you bury your face in the collar of his robe and take a deep breath of the Ravager's scent; metallic and definitely Omnic, but somehow still... unique. "This liaison is our private affair."

"And you play the cold bastard very well," you chuckle, planting a kiss on his faceplate, along the ridge that forms his jawline. "You're a natural. Ever thought about being an actor?" 

"I'm not acting at all." A hand moves from your waist around your back to relocate you, onto the prayer mat with an elegant yet sweeping motion; now you are suddenly lying on your back, several hundred kilos of metal right above you. "Yasha asked me to deliver you a message, which I did. But I'm not a messenger, and I have more than enough to do in the archives."

"Oh yes, the archives," you purr, amused, as his free hand, the one he's not using to prop himself up above you, runs along the hem of your shirt. "Did you miss them? Your old writings and moth-eaten books?"

"Certainly more than I've missed you." The mischievous undertone of his dark voice makes you grin so broadly that you are tempted to cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment. Whatever this Omnic is doing to you, it's working; when he's in that particular mood, that seductive mood, he really is silver-tongued. So much for Ravagers not being able to charm; living proof of how wrong that assumption is is leaning over you right now, his hand continuing to caress your clothed torso until all you can do is swallow against your dry throat. 

His faceplate is only a few millimetres above your lips - red light blinds you, but now instead of paralysing fear, it causes a deep burning at the core of your being. The way this huge Omnic leans over you makes your knees as soft as butter; he could break you like a twig, but he handles you with such care as if you were a figure of glass. Worship, in a way.

A kiss pressed directly to his faceplate seems to bring him back to reality from one stray strand of hair that cheekily decorates your forehead. His gaze seems to take in every detail of your face, and he could certainly draw an absolutely flawless portrait if asked. Every wrinkle, every birthmark, even the almost invisible freckle on your cheek that can only be seen in midsummer. Every detail is part of a puzzle that he wants to solve.

"How does it feel?" he asks in a deep, quiet voice. "To kiss?"

Thoughtfully, your hand reaches up and touches one of the black cables that frame your face like a curtain. The material is soft - silicone? - and somewhat cool.

"Kissing a person feels warm," you finally say. "Soft. Wet." 

"Sounds only two-thirds enjoyable," he replies with a chuckle in his voice box. You laugh. 

"Yeah, if I think about it... it can be kinda gross if not done right." You let go of the cable and place your hand on his jaw, so cold and hard. A kiss follows, right to the centre of his face. "Kissing you isn't wet, but it's cold and hard."

"I see. Only one of three positive characteristics." He straightens up a little, so sudden that you can't help but make a small noise of protest. "Then we should probably stop."

"Oh nonsense, that's not what I meant--" you laugh, knowing he's just teasing you, when a sudden knock and opening of the door sours the mood. 

"Sorry to interrupt, but Master Mondatta is asking for-- Oh." Zenyatta stands in the doorway. You now seriously consider crawling out of the small window and throwing yourself over the monastery wall into the ravine below to an early death. Oh by the Iris-!

Your back is still pressed against the old prayer mat on the ground, while Ramattra hovers over you like an ominous omen. His knees are on either side of your hips, his faceplate still right above your own face and no matter how you look at it, this position is nothing but highly suggestive. 
 
"Master Mondatta is asking for you," Zenyatta addresses you again in a completely neutral tone. "It seems urgent. And he doesn't seem happy either."

"Yes, yes-- I'm coming," you reply meekly, crawling out from under the Ravager. Not only are the tips of your ears burning, your whole face feels hot. Ramattra stays behind, avoiding his brother's gaze as he steps back to let you through the door. 


As you pass Zenyatta, you sense an aura you've never felt on him before - an almost smug vibe that's not usually associated with him. If he could, he would probably be smirking right now. 

"Now I know what you meant," he whispers to you. "When you said you two are getting along much better."


Ughh.

 

Chapter 33: Dreams, so real

 

The archive is silent. In the vaults beneath the monastery, well hidden and kept as dry as possible, are the ancient books, writings and cultural treasures protected by the Shambali. Much was lost throughout the world during the Omnic Crisis, but here in the monastery all the ancient relics and writings have survived. It is an invaluable store of knowledge and wisdom, accumulated by both humans and Omnics. The monks continue the ancient writings, adding new insights and their own understanding of life itself. 

It is quiet here. His thoughts settle and he feels like he can work efficiently. Not today though.

Ramattra's heavy fingers run over the page of a 300 year old book about a monk's pilgrimage. His hand barely touches the page, so precious and fragile is it. Old paper, so sensitive to moisture and cold. Old paper that can tear at the slightest touch. His sensors have been trained to be extra cautious, to turn the pages with the utmost care. He puts his fingers under the page and turns it, slowly and delicately - the paper rushes over the fine sensors in his hands, but he can't concentrate today; the information fades into nothingness, misdirected to a wrong index in his system. Ramattra no longer thinks about the words he reads. Instead, he pauses in his movement and thinks of the sensation of running his hands over your warm, soft body. 

When he dares to slide his fingers under your clothes, your chest immediately rises with an expectant breath. Something stops him from venturing more than his fingertips behind that barrier of fabric, but something tells him you wouldn't mind; the soft sigh that resonates with your exhale, the way you press your body against him as he tests the limits. He dares to call it desire. This greed that your body so clearly displays, a desire that often leads humans to foolishness. A flaw in the human's programming that makes risk tempting. Very tempting indeed.


Sexuality. 


The Ravager has never given it serious thought. It's not in the nature of an Omnic to display a certain sexuality - it's very rare for Omnics to live it out fully and openly. While relationships between Omnics and humans are no longer uncommon, even here in the monastery there are a few couples, the subject of desire and lust between machine and human remains a delicate one. He's not sure to what extent he's interested in pursuing it. Although... he enjoys testing the fine boundaries of your intimacies. It causes a very positive feedback in his system, and the information he receives about the human body is quite fascinating. 

This raises the question of how you feel about it. He hasn't asked you yet: This development of a certain attraction between the two of you is so new that he has not yet been able to develop a standard way of dealing with it. This is completely new territory. He never wanted to have an intimate relationship with a human, but then you came along. Challenging in every way, but at the same time so much more honest and reliable than any human he has ever met. To feel connected to an organic being is both uncomfortable and very fulfilling - and confusing. 

Ramattra closes the book carefully and puts it back on the small pile he has planned working on for today. He's not making much progress. Normally, at this time of day, he would be in the kitchen with you, preparing lunch. But this month you're working with K33N, much to his dismay. For the life of him, he can't put his finger on why he's feeling so hostile towards the fishing Omnic.



Footsteps announce a visitor descending the old stone staircase. An Omnic, the Ravager can hear from the corridor. Metal on stone. Louder than human footsteps. 

"Hello, brother." Zenyatta. Figures. "Thought I'd look in on you." 

"Very thoughtful," Ramattra replies curtly. "But not necessary."

"Hmm." But Zenyatta does not move from his place at the foot of the stairs to make his point: he’s not going anywhere until a conversation has taken place. Ramattra can only sigh inwardly and play along. He rises from his seat at the old wooden desk and walks to one of the old cupboards where ancient scrolls are stored, neatly rolled and stacked. Pretending to go about his business, he takes out a scroll, checks to see if it contains what he needs, and puts it back. He repeats this a few times while Zenyatta leisurely glances at the old books. 

"You want to talk about what happened yesterday?" Ramattra can no longer contain his impatience and irritation; if his brother wants something from him, he should just come out and say it! "Go ahead, talk to me about it."

"Your hostility proves that to you, this subject, it's - how do the humans say - thin ice." Zenyatta says, eyeing the cover of an ancient medical tome with great interest. Not that the larger Omnic even makes eye contact with him. It's more of a back to back and not looking at each other conversation. 

"It's private," Ramattra says. "It's between me and them."

"I've never questioned that," replies the other calmly. "I'm just amazed and pleasantly surprised. I didn't expect you to open up to anyone, brother." 

"No, you are curious. Otherwise you wouldn't be here and you wouldn't pretend to be interested in these writings. You hope that my relationship with the cook, a relationship that is new and still very questionable, will change me completely and make me more compliant." 

This came out much sharper and angrier than Ramattra had expected. The words fall from his chest because they reflect his own fear: What if you change him? What if you make him soft and weak and just once he is not careful enough and does not see danger coming? 

Zenyatta is silent for a moment. He clasps his mechanical hands and nods thoughtfully. "I expected this kind of development to throw you off course, brother," he says finally. "And I was right."

"I-" The Ravager has no suitable counterargument, because Zenyatta is right. It throws him off course. He can't concentrate because every available resource is focused on making sense of this. Trying to understand what is happening between you and him. What comes next and how he should deal with this newfound intimacy. There are many new emotions emerging from the depths of his programming that are completely unknown to him. Anubis designed him, but through the touch of Aurora's mind his programming has evolved - his system is now growing with his experiences. New emotions are developing within him, and not all of them are easy to handle. 


"Do you want to talk about it?" Zenyatta offers. He knows how to talk to the Ravager, he always does. He knows Ramattra well and understands what is going on inside him. At times like this, that can be quite annoying when all he wants is some peace and quiet. 

"Not really," the Ravager admits, turning back to the desk. "I'm afraid I shall have to figure out those things for myself." 

"With the cook's help?"

"That remains to be seen." That's not entirely true - the way his thoughts revolve around you, he can't wait to explore these things further the next time you're alone together. Satisfying curiosity and testing boundaries is one of the highest priorities in his system at the moment. 

"Then I'll leave you to your duties."

With a distinctly mocking undertone, only recognisable to those who know Zenyatta well, the younger of the two Omnics leaves. It takes every fibre of Ramattra's self-control not to sigh in exasperation - a habit he has picked up from you, for better or worse. Vocalising his displeasure is not normally part of his behaviour, but since working closely with you it has become clear that he is capable of tremendous change. Adaptation. Or is it a form of affection, accepting the peculiarities of your environment? A mosaic of habits and small idiosyncrasies that add up to a greater whole? 

 

* * *

 

It's impossible to concentrate with all these thoughts, so he finally stops working for the day and looks for a hopefully productive activity: a diagnosis of his system to uncover possible errors. As he's not been in control of his thoughts for a few days now, it must be a mistake in his systems, clearly. 

The path to his room is empty, at least he makes sure of that. When the Ravager hears the voices of his brothers and sisters in the corridors, he waits for them to pass and disappear around the next corner without noticing him. He simply doesn't have the capacity for conversation today.

The heavy wooden door closes behind him and a wave of relief sweeps through his fans. Here, in his refuge, there is no one else. There is a pleasant silence and solitude that allows him to concentrate. 

"Hello, SP-1 K." The small prototype of the Slicer, as he calls it, approaches him on wobbly legs and looks up at him expectantly. "I seem to have forgotten to put you in sleep mode this morning."
The robot beeps and clicks quietly. The helper robot doesn't have the mental capabilities of an Omnic - but he could probably compare it to a pet, like a dog. At least that's what you would do, Ramattra thinks, sighing slightly. You're always on his mind, whether he likes it or not. 

He leans over to the little bot to turn it off - but it flinches from the hand that tries to grab it. 

"You don't want to go into sleep mode?" Ramattra asks after a moment's hesitation. The bot continues to recoil.


That's a 'no', I suppose.


"As you wish. But be quiet."


Now the helper bot is going mad too. Why is everything so... weird?

The Ravager sits down on the very neatly made bed and pauses for a moment. The diagnostic program requires separate internal access with a special access key embedded deep in his core, a remnant of Anubis. The program itself has no unpleasant aftertaste, but accessing this key feels like what it must be like for humans to be immersed in ice water. A very unpleasant reminder of who was once his master. 

[Diagnostic program activated. Estimated duration: 10 hours, 36 minutes, 17 seconds. ]

 

He sits cross-legged on the bed, which creaks alarmingly under his weight, and leans his back against the cold stone wall behind him. The helper bot struggles to climb onto the bed using only its two legs and after giving it a lift, Ramattra closes his eyes and tries not to think about anything. Just silence and clarity - letting go of thoughts, not holding on to them. Meditation is the art of not getting lost in thoughts and not holding on to them, but letting them flow like a river that follows the current. 

It's an art that he has practised for years. But today, with all the confusing feelings and underlying irritability from Zenyatta's visit to the archives, he is tense. Annoyed. Unfocused. 

Sleep mode. It's probably the only way he can clear his head a little while the diagnostics are running. He usually avoids going into sleep mode - it's a vulnerable state. Vulnerable and open to human attack. Not that that has ever happened here in the monastery, but caution is still ingrained in his system after all this time on the run from human vengeance after the Crisis. 

Would he feel safer if you were with him? 

What a stupid thought, he scolds himself before going into sleep mode. It's ridiculous to think that your presence would change anything.

 

 

Hot.

It's hot in his chest. 

It takes all his strength not to shut down his sensors in that area without shutting down important systems as well. The hole in his chest, torn by a pulse rifle, stretches through his entire chest to his shoulder. As he tries to reach out with shaking hands to inspect the wound, he hears his pursuers behind him; humans screaming and shouting, rejoicing at the sight of the wound they have inflicted on the terrible Ravager. They crave blood, oil. 

He has to keep running. 

And he does. He runs on, through the dense thicket of the forest into which he has fled. He flees far from the roads, but the humans have followed him even into the wilderness. They want a trophy to hide their fear and pain behind. They want his head, his heart. Savages they are. Monsters. 

Fear drives the Ravager deeper into the forest, but soon the rows of trees thin to reveal something new: a farm. As night falls, the warm yellow light of the farmhouse falls like a soft veil on the green grass, inviting and promising safety. 

A break. He needs a break. He has been running for three days, damaged and low on energy. 

The barn stands still. Just a short rest, then he'll have to keep going. To the coast, and from there as a stowaway somewhere where people don't hunt Omnics like prey. Anywhere, as long as he's away from humans. He just needs to catch his breath for a moment, to pause. 

The barn. Painted red like a fire hydrant. 

He sneaks up to it and reaches for the door, opening it quietly.

Just a short break.

 

 

A sudden jolt wakes Ramattra from sleep mode. He stands in the middle of the room, so suddenly that the helper bot jumps up from the bed and hides underneath.
His fans try to cool the intense heat in his processor - but this dream brings up things he has locked away a long time ago. Things so bad that even his internal cooling system is struggling to get enough coolant to the vital parts of his body. He’s feeling hot and cold, and the oppressive tightness in his chest is so terrible that he could swear the world was spinning around him. 


Just a dream. Calm down. 


[ Diagnostics complete. All functions operating within set parameters. ]


Great, now his diagnostic program is malfunctioning too. There's no way these things are normal, the way they're happening to him. These confusing feelings, these new subroutines that are just creeping in. This nightmare he hasn't had in years. No, this can't be right. Something's wrong with him, there must be some mistake. 

There is a knock on the door. The helper bot crawls out from under the bed and looks expectantly at Ramattra. Will he open it? No one bothers him here, except... 

"Brother, I have already told you--" But when Ramattra opens the door, he freezes for a second. It's you. 

"Hey, I thought--" You press your lips together and shrug. Nervously, but somehow... hopeful? "I thought you might like to join me for a cup of tea in the kitchen?" 

 

Notes:

Slicer wants uppies

Chapter 34: Wants and needs

Notes:

I have to report that Ramattra Overwatch was just a gateway drug to robofucking and I'm currently waist-deep in Transformers lore and it's so over for me oh my god. way too many sexy robots

 

"It's cute."

"It's a helper bot. SP-1 K." 

"So... Spike?"

"No. SP-1 K." 

You bend down to the little bot, who takes a curious look around the kitchen. The so-called 'Slicer' wobbles around the room, looking at the boxes and shelves, while you follow its gaze. Here and there it bumps into a table leg and stumbles over its own legs, but all in all it seems to be a successful prototype. 

"Its gyroscope is not fully tuned yet, and the AI is still struggling to keep the body upright." Ramattra also observes the prototype as it explores its world. "And it refused to go into sleep mode. I'll have to work on its obedience subroutines." 

"Probably just not tired," you reply, sipping your tea. "Or afraid of missing something."

"That's not how it works--" the Ravager begins, but he stops himself. Instead, he shakes his head slightly. No, probably no energy left to argue. "Never mind. Why are you still awake?" 

You shrug. "I haven't told you about my talk with Mondatta yesterday. I thought you might like to know what came of it." 

"Zenyatta said he wasn't in a good mood?"

"Yes, you could say that." You continue to watch the little bot on the floor, curiously poking at a sack of rice and watching a few grains fall out of a small hole. Cute. "He wasn't happy that I accepted the conference in France without asking him first. Told me to stay put and wait until he's made a decision."

"Which was to be expected."

You nod. "Yes. Still, it is terrible to be scolded by him - Mondatta never scolds anyone!" 

"You have only yourself to blame." Ramattra stares into his cup, which remains untouched as always; he seems much more thoughtful than usual. He is surrounded by a dark aura, he is a black hole, sucking everything down with him. He seems... depressed. Something is troubling him. Is it too much to ask what is going on in his mind? 

"What, uh- What about you?" Is this a normal time for him to be awake? A question to which you have no answer. To be honest, you don't really know what Ramattra does all day except work in the archives. But he certainly seems like the kind of Omnic who doesn't get much sleep. "Do you sleep at night?"

"Sometimes," he admits. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious, that's all." That's not true. You've been thinking about the Ravager all day. It's been kind of lonely in your kitchen, and you have to admit... he's been sorely missed. Working with K33N is fun and there's always something to laugh about and talk about, but it lacks the serenity that Ramattra brought. Every early morning with a hot cup of tea and the gentle hum of the R-7000 unit was a little piece of heaven in itself. Although he's very irritable and it doesn't take much to set you off, he exudes a calmness that, in the right circumstances, is balm for the soul. 

The physical intimacies are nice and all, but somehow... something is missing. There's an urgent desire to make a real emotional connection with your now partner. He's always been out of reach, with a thick invisible wall separating him from everyone else, human and Omnic. But when you delve into that oppressive feeling in your chest, you realise that it's a desire to be let in. To be a trusted person. To see past that impenetrable wall and understand what he's really like. 


Fuck it.


"Hey, can we-?" The question sticks in your throat, but it burns hot and urgent in your chest. "Can we talk about what this is, between us?"

He pauses for a moment, a little taken aback by the question. 

"I don't know if I'm up to it today," he finally admits. "It's been a... difficult day. And my diagnostic programme seems to have malfunctioned, I need to fix that today."

"Oh, OK, sure. No problem." It would be a lie to say you weren't disappointed. The next sip of tea tastes of doubt and uncertainty: is this liaison, as Ramattra calls it, just a casual thing that will fizzle out? Or is there a real possibility of a deep connection here that will affect both of your lives? It's such an important question, but so hard to ask - and the answer will determine whether hearts are broken. 

"I'm sorry." Ramattra stands and, with a soft click, coaxes the Slicer towards him. "I'm afraid being around people is not good for me today. I don't feel very well." 

Oh dear... Did you say something wrong? Is the subject still too sensitive? You just want to clear the air, nothing more. Instead, he will walk away and probably start a fight to avoid having to deal with these difficult, sensitive thoughts. 

"You know what? No, I want to deal with this now," you say, just as he puts his hand on the handle of the wooden kitchen door. An attempt to, just this once, be honest and adress the things that bother you before they ends up as cannon fodder in another fight. "It's important to me."

"I never questioned the importance of this matter," he immediately corrects the silent accusation. He sounds annoyed. "Nevertheless, I would ask you to leave it at that for today." He doesn't even wait for an answer, leaving the kitchen with the Slicer, who hastily follows the Ravager. The door slams shut with such force that the kitchen shakes slightly and the crockery on the shelves clatters quietly. You're left alone, with your arms crossed over your chest and a sour aftertaste somewhere in your body.

Shit.


Whatever's going on with the Ravager seems to be bothering him a lot. He basically stormed out of your kitchen, giving you a shoulder so cold it sends shivers down your spine.

Is there really any point in pushing and digging until he reveals what's going on? Knowing him, he'll just react with rejection and anger, as he always does. Maybe, just maybe... you need to find a different approach that avoids the usual behaviour of both of you and makes room for something new. 

 

"Hey. Still up?" K33N has opened the kitchen door a crack and pokes his head in. "I saw that the lights are still on and a really annoyed Ravager just stomped past me, so I thought I'd check on you."

"Ughh - it's complicated." You drop your head to the table and let out a deep groan of discomfort. "Unnecessarily complicated."

K33N laughs and walks in, closing the door behind him to keep the warmth of the small kitchen from escaping into the cold night. "It's always complicated with Ramattra."

"Hah! Tell me about it." You wave him over and he sits down across from you, where the huge Ravager had been sitting just a minute ago. The fishing bot is much smaller, about your size. His round face is much more welcoming than your lover's, so friendly, and with a few scratches and nicks that must have come from his former job on the high seas. The difference in posture alone is enormous; whereas Ramattra always walks around with broad shoulders and a straight back, K33N has a very stooped and relaxed posture. A carefree Omnic who would certainly be easier to love than the Ravager. Too bad he's not quite your type.

"So, what's going on with you two?" K33N finally asks. He sounds genuinely curious, with a certain knowing undertone in his voice. Well, you can't really hide anything from him... 

"It's complicated," you repeat your words, muttering them towards the wood under your face. 

"But you're a couple?"

"Kind of... I guess?" 

"Cool. Then Aria owes me 20 bucks." He leans back on the small stool and crosses his arms behind his head, making his chassis creak softly. 

"You're kidding, you bet on us?" Now you look up from the table, indignant, with a very annoyed expression on your face. "That's so rude!" 


He chuckles, but your short-lived indignation doesn't last long. As far as you know, K33N had a relationship with a human, what's-his-name...

"Hey, what was it like with you and Alex?" you dare to ask. "What kind of hurdles were there during your time together?"

"Phew, you're asking me something here-" Thoughtfully, K33N rubs his chin - a habit he must have picked up from humans. "There were quite a few things we had to work out. First of all, I'm really bad at relationships. That's why we broke up."

"I mean, apart from your inability to be in a relationship."

"Well, we got on well - most of the time - So I'd say the hardest part was the sex." 

His answer makes you almost choke on the rest of your tea, so direct and nonchalant is he about the subject. Yes, this is a subject you have been avoiding internally. Thinking about whether and how to become intimate with the Ravager is a topic in itself. Aside from the lack of emotional intimacy, that's probably the next big issue on the horizon: the physical hurdles that need to be overcome when it comes to human-Omnic intercourse. You don't even know where to start! 

"Why's that?" you dare to ask. 

He shrugs. "We Omnics don't have the same... options as you humans, obviously. There are certain upgrades, but they're expensive and, to be honest, I don't think they're necessary. I think there are enough Omnic equivalents to what you humans find pleasurable." 

The telltale blush in the tips of her ears emphasises how uncomfortable the subject is; but it's as interesting as it is embarrassing. 

"For example...?" Your voice is a little higher than usual as you ask this question, making K33N laugh; yes, you are damn embarrassed, but the thought of exploring such things with the Ravager makes you feel warm inside. 

"I can give you a few pointers, sure," the Omnic agrees, amused. "But it's like you humans - everyone likes something different. You'll just have to try. Although I dare say you won't mind doing some trial and error with Ram."

Oh man, your ears are red and hot - even though K33N is a good friend, it's still embarrassing to talk about. "Who knows, maybe Ramattra won't even like it.", you say.

"Maybe." K33N agrees. "I guess you two will just have to try. Alright, so - let's start with the basics...” 

 

---

 

As the door to his room closes behind him, the Ravager dares to release some of the tension in his hydraulics. 

It hasn't been a good day, not at all.

His encounter with Zenyatta, then the inadequate diagnosis of his system, and the nightmare - especially the nightmare. For years he has slept soundly here at the monastery, with the help of meditation and a level of self-control that is second to none. But now that he's confronted with new feelings and subroutines, the ice is breaking; things are coming up that he wants to keep buried in the shallows. Things that haunt him and eat away at him like rust. 

"Time for your sleep mode. And no arguments this time." The little helper bot is placed on the table where Ramattra usually does his engineering work. The Slicer lies down on some notes and small parts for building bots, and allows Ramattra to press the small button in the panel at the back of his head without further ado this time. The bot makes a soft, sleepy sound and the glow in its eye fades almost instantly, causing the Ravager to pause for a moment. Spike. Such a strange human habit, to name everything. 

You demand a name for that which binds the two of you. To define what exactly this new relationship means and where it will ultimately lead. 


And he doesn't know. 


He doesn't know what to tell you. That he is struggling with these feelings that are coming up? This connection he feels for you against his will? He's not an Omnic who's comfortable around humans, and yet he seems to be involved with one. How that could happen is a complete mystery to him, and something he can't easily get to the bottom of. The subroutines that interrupt his everyday thoughts, emotions and prevent him from concentrating are far too confusing.
 

Instead of being able to concentrate on his work, these new priorities force his system to think about what it's like to touch you. Soft, warm skin, so alien to his own perception of the world. And those sounds that fall from your lips; soft sighs that he wants to hear forever. He remembers a moment when he instinctively pressed himself against your pelvis and the sound you made triggered a violent reaction in his processor: the soft, yet rough moan in your throat hit him like a bolt of lightning. It's a sound your body has never made before - proof that you are physically attracted to him. 

The thought alone is enough to keep his processor busy. And the fact that you returned the movement, pressing your body against his, makes his fans hiss. Desire. Longing. Ecstatic sounds that prove you are clay in his hands. That he can mold your deepest desires to the point of pure bliss, until you unravel in his hands and he can be sure that he has fulfilled your every need. 

The more he thinks about it, the more urgent the realisation becomes: He wants you. 

 

Chapter 35: Darkness within

Notes:

no Ramattra content in the next season. it's so jover (I'm genuinely disappointed why does Rein get another skin)

 

"A feast?" you ask, making a thoughtful sound in your chest. "I don't know if I have enough supplies for that."

"It doesn't have to be too big," Yasha assures you. "Don't you have any semolina? I mean, we haven't had semolina for a long time." 

"But this is my emergency semolina..." you grumble, sitting down more comfortably on the cushion. 

You sit with Yasha in the empty common room, simply enjoying her company while she's knitting with her skilful hands. You have the important job of holding the wool, which comes from the monastery's sheep, while she works on what will be a baby-sized jumper. 


"Amelia is leaving us," she says, out of the blue. 

"Really? Oh, that's a shame..." Amelia - and now her baby, too - are an integral part of this community here in the monastery. If she leaves, no one will be able to replace her. 

"A child needs other children," Yasha continues, casually counting the stitches of her knitting. "It needs social structures and to go to school. If the child grows up with a bunch of monks and broken people... No, it deserves better." 

"Broken people?" you ask with some amusement in your voice, but Yasha just makes an emphatic sound.

"You know what I mean," she says. "My dead daughter, Amelia's time with the cartel in Brazil, your entire childhood... even our Omnic brothers and sisters have similar fates. There is probably no inhabitant here who hasn't suffered greatly."

She's right. Every fate in this monastery is marked by pain and violence, by a deep desire to find a place of refuge. All the members of the order are refugees, fleeing from a world that wants to exterminate them. No one here's untouched by terrible things, not even Master Mondatta himself. 


"While we're on the subject..." Yasha gives you a quick look. "How are things between you and Ramattra?"

Oh, please, not her too! 

"Word travels fast," you grumble, twisting the yarn between your fingers to ease the tension. "This monastery is one big gossip circle."

With a loving pat on the shoulder, Yasha laughs her usual hearty, warm laugh and gives you a long, loving look. 

"Please, dear... I'm old and I know when two people are getting closer, against all odds," she replies, continuing to knit the baby's clothes as if she was talking about the weather. "That, and I've known Ramattra longer than you. He can be obnoxious, but since he's been around you, he's become downright tame." 

Now the tips of your ears are warm and you stare down at the colourful yarn. Really? Do you have such a positive influence on him? 

"It's not easy to get such a closed Omnic to open up," she continues. "Especially when it's a Ravager. They've been through a lot, poor things. Hunted to almost extinction."

"Yes, he told me about that," you say. "Not everything, not every detail, of course - but we did argue about it once."

Yasha laughs. "Yes, I can imagine. He's someone who seeks conflict in order to understand himself. You two have that in common, you know."

You hadn't thought of it that way before - you just assumed that he liked to argue. That he's aggressive by nature. 


"There's a darkness in him." Yasha continues to concentrate on her work, but her words are serious. "It's the same with us humans: some people can let go of pain and heal, while others hold on to it and lose themselves in it. In the anger, grief and helplessness that is all too easily disguised as strength of character and an iron will. Ramattra is no exception."

You don't know what to say, so you remain silent and continue to listen. 

"This was the case when he arrived here," Yasha continues. "His body was damaged so badly and he was at the end of his tether. Mondatta took him in and nursed him back to health. He then explained the ways of the Order and offered him shelter. Ramattra accepted." She sighs lightly. "It wasn't easy at first. He was very hostile to the human inhabitants. We were just a handful of humans among all those Omnics, and some of the monks had trouble accepting us. But little by little we managed to pull ourselves together, except for..."

"Except for Ramattra," you finish the sentence. "Was he really that bad?"

"Worse!" Yasha laughs and looks thoughtfully at the garment she's knitting as her hands stop moving for a few seconds. "He was... cruel. Words as sharp as knives. He took every opportunity to tear people down here in the monastery. Until Mondatta gave him an ultimatum: fit in with this peaceful community or leave."

"That doesn't sound like Mondatta at all," you say. "He'd never give up on anyone, would he?"

"Oh, he was fed up with Ramattra's bullshit!" Yasha raises her eyebrows when she thinks back to the not so good old times. "One's own pain is never a reason to deliberately hurt others. And the ultimatum worked. Ramattra retreated into the archives and came to terms with the fact that humans were part of this order. This went on for several years, until finally..." Now she looks at you again, and the heat in your ears moves to your cheeks. 

"He can be quite difficult," you admit. "But we're getting on quite well at the moment." 

"I hope your light guides him," she says affectionately. "He's far more powerful than he can imagine. A Ravager in his position can either go down in history as an Omnic who fought for good, or, should this darkness consume him completely, as an Omnic who brought great suffering to this world."

 

* * *

 

"Great suffering..." Preparing dinner gives you time to think about Yasha's words. As you knead the dough for the dumplings, you try to understand the older woman. 

Yasha was one of the first humans to join the order. She and Mondatta share a deep friendship and a spiritual bond that is second to none. Together, they built the order of the Shambali and made the monastery as peaceful as it is now; as a result, Yasha knows every resident inside and out, even the Ravager. Ramattra is not the most cheerful Omnic, you know that. But to call his callousness and often foul mood darkness would be an exaggeration. Sure, he's got a dark side to him, just like everyone else... but that doesn't mean he's dangerous, does it? 

A faint scratching at the door made you look up from your dough. You place it in an oiled bowl and cover it with a tea towel to allow it to rise, then quickly wash your hands and go to investigate the strange noise. There's no one at the door and you wonder what made that sound - until you look down and see the yellow eye of a small bot.

"Spike! What are you doing here?" You look around, searching. Ramattra is nowhere in sight. "Did you sneak out? Who taught you that?"

The Slicer makes some clicking noises and nudges your leg with his head. 

"You want me to come with you?" The little bot eagerly runs off, which is probably a 'yes'. Actually, you have enough to do in the kitchen and K33N has already left to do whatever... but you're curious to see what Spike wants to show you. What's he doing out here all alone? Where's the Ravager, who's usually so careful not to let this little helper bot go off on its own?


Though to your suprprise, instead of heading for Ramattra's room, the Slicer turns around the next corner and leads you into the monastery's courtyard. From there, a path leads up to the upper levels of the monastery, where you usually retreat to when you need to think. The small, dusty attic that everyone but you - and now probably the Ravager - avoids.

"Hey." You greet the Omnic, who sits by the large opening in the wall where you usually sit. The Slicer seems pleased to have brought you here, and lies down in the corner next to Ramattra, curled up like a little dog. But the Omnic himself barely reacts to you, other than to tilt his head slightly to signal that he has heard you. 

"What's going on?" Spike came to get me," you continue, walking towards Ramattra. It's cold up here, windy and uncomfortable. You should've brought a coat. 

"Spike," the Ravager snorts quietly. "I knew you'd give it - him - a name." 

"I think he deserves one." You stand behind him, a little irritated by the bad mood that surrounds him. What's wrong with him? 

"Maybe." 


A strong gust of wind blows through the beams, ruffling your hair and sending a chill through your bones. Unfortunately, this reduces your patience to a minimum, so you take another step closer and crouch down beside the Omnic. 

"OK, what's going on?" you ask directly. "First Spike comes to get me, and then you're being so dismissive."

"I'm not being dismissive."

"You can't even look at me." 

Ramattra sighs through his fans, but then turns to you demonstratively and his gaze meets yours. It's obvious that something's wrong, but this is probably going to be one of those conversations where you have to gently coax every bit of information out of him. 

"Come on," you urge. "Just tell me what's wrong. I want to know if I can help."

"You can't." He immediately turns back to the sky, which is turning orange with the setting sun. "Not everything can be solved by talking." 

"Not that we've tried very often..." you mutter, finally sitting down next to him, swinging your legs over the edge of your seat. The view of the chasms surrounding the monastery is once again breathtaking - no wonder he chose such a beautiful place to sulk. You like to do that too. 


"I don't want to talk about it," Ramattra says. "So don't even try."

"OK, we'll just sit here then," you reply, as calmly as possible in the dropping temperatures. It's not easy not to show the cold, but it's essential to get your point across. 

"You have work to do."

"So do you." 

He sighs. He does that a lot these days. A lot more than when you first met. Then it was just snarls and sharp words, angry silences and the occasional verbal slap in the face. Now it's sighs and a different kind of silence, heavy and loaded with something he doesn't want to say. Something is eating at him from within, and once again Yasha's words come to mind. That not everyone can escape their pain. 

Whatever is bothering the Ravager, he won't just tell you. He's just not that kind of guy. You'll only get personal information out of him if you're persistent and don't let up, but don't push him too hard. You have to develop a certain sensitivity with him, which isn't easy. It's like defusing a bomb. 


And besides, he seems... sad. That's new. Has something happened?

You don't dare ask. For now, it's enough to sit here with him in silence and accept that tonight, dinner will be served later than usual. 

 

 

Chapter 36: Appetizer, served hot

Notes:

my apologies that this chapter took me so long, I'm currently very insane about some other robots. sorryyy

 

"A little further to the right."

"Like this?"

"No, my right..."

"Your right and my right are the same right."

"Well, you're not doing it right."

"It's my first time doing this and yet you decide to play the critic." 

"Okay, you know what? Stop." You sigh heavily and look down at the Ravager's faceplate beneath you. "Put me down."


Ramattra bends down and lets you climb off his shoulders. Once you are back on your own two legs, you look up at the banner, still hanging somewhat crooked. 

"It can't be that hard to hang that stupid banner," you grumble. "Why are the arches in this monastery so damn high?"

"It really is crooked," agrees Ramattra. "Though I doubt it will dampen Amelia's joy at her farewell party." 

Hopefully he's right. This party in honor of Amelia and her daughter - and the fact that they'll be leaving the monastery in the coming days - has grown much larger than expected. Not that you didn't already know that. Contrary to popular belief, the monks of this monastery do appreciate a good party. 


"So, how's work going, now that you're with K33N?" Ramattra suddenly asks next to you. You have to resist the urge to snort derisively - the Ravager may be struggling with something at the moment, but jealousy really isn't his style. But hey, this whole relationship thing is new for both of you, so you decide to not throw a mean comment at him. No, on a busy day like today, you'll show mercy. There's a lot to do that needs your undivided attention, even if you'd rather tease the Omnic for being jealous of K33N of all people - and probably not even knowing it. 

"He really does talk a lot," you reply, forming a frame with your index fingers and thumbs to take a closer look at the banner. You saw someone do this in a movie once, and the gesture alone makes you believe that the decorations for Amelia's party are not quite as wonky as they appear. 

"I can imagine." You can feel the hesitation in the Omnic beside you, so you pretend to continue thinking about the banner's design while he quietly struggles with his words. It takes a few seconds before he leans slightly toward you. "If you need any help tonight, I'm way ahead of schedule with my duties in the archive." 


Oh, that's actually really sweet. Ramattra must have thought carefully about how to phrase this offer of help so that it doesn't sound like he's looking forward to spending time with you. No, the big, bad Ravager can't afford to admit that he misses spending time with you every day. It's beneath him. Hah!


"Sounds good," you immediately accept his offer. It's easy to be cunning about the need for time together, but it would be a lie to say you don't miss it, too. More than you first thought. The grumpy Omnic's company is something you have grown accustomed to. And now that you have the chatty K33N around you all day, you miss that calming influence immensely. "Let's say- 5 p.m.? I'm almost done with all the preparations, just have to let the dinner simmer and season it later." 

"Agreed." 

But before he can turn to leave, your hand shoots forward and grabs the cloth of his monk's robe. Ramattra stops his movement. 

"Do you want to talk about last night?" you ask without looking at him. 

He hesitates. "No." 

Yeah, you kind of expected that answer. But that doesn't mean you're going to let it go so easily. "I know these things are hard for you," you say. "But I think we should be able to talk about certain things." 

Ramattra looks thoughtfully at the ground until he lifts his head slightly and shakes it in the negative.

"If you're worried that I'm unhappy about something regarding our bond, I can reassure you," he says. "It only concerns me." And with that, he turns away completely, leaving you standing alone in the common room, a certain uneasiness in your chest. 

Obviously, someone as secretive as the Ravager doesn't want to talk about private matters. To be honest, it would have been very surprising if he had just poured his heart out to you. Still, there's a sense that something is really bothering him, and the feelings that have developed between you somehow urge you to pursue the matter. Carefully, mind you. It's not efficient to destroy this budding relationship by prying into Ramattra's private affairs. Even if the urge is strong. 


Give him time, says the rational voice in your head. Even if it's hard. 

 

* * *

 

Evening comes sooner than expected, because a spontaneous party has to be well organized. The food's not a feast, but it will satisfy everyone. A hearty stew of carrots and pumpkin bubbles on the gas stove, accompanied by fresh salad and semolina with fresh herbs. A simple meal, but filling and a good base for when the human monks want to indulge in a few cups of spiced wine. If you drink a lot, you must eat well, your grandfather always said. 

With busy hands, you mix a new blend of herbal tea in the dented little tin. This blend is made from dried local tea leaves, along with some herbs from the garden and spices otherwise only found in India. Every time one of the monks goes on a pilgrimage to another country, they bring back some of the local cuisine for you - so your kitchen will always smell of the most diverse herbs, heavy and rich in culture. And when you think about it, you probably wouldn't be as happy anywhere else in the world as you are here. 

You wonder what Aria will bring you from her trip. She is visiting an old friend, an Omnic from the same Omnium back in Europe. It is Aria's first big trip alone, and now that Amelia is leaving the monastery for good, you feel a little... heavy. This community means everything to you, it's your whole world; so... what if more people decide to leave? What will happen then? Will the Shambali eventually become less and less, until the stone walls no longer echo with conversation and laughter?

The sound of the door makes you look up. It is, as expected, Ramattra, leaning his shepherd's crook in the usual place on the wall and walking toward you. Cynicism and composure aside, your heart leaps into your throat as a cold, hard hand rests on your shoulder. Such a small, nonchalant touch would have been completely unthinkable four weeks ago, but now... now it is more than welcome. Almost a need. 

"Looks like you're done with everything." The deep, mechanical voice behind you sends a pleasant shiver through the muscles at your shoulders, along with a warm tingle somewhere in your stomach. 

"You're late," you reply, glancing at the small clock on the wall. "It's already 5.30 p.m."

"I got held up." The hand on your shoulder tightens slightly, just enough pressure to make a point. Or it's a gentle warning, as his other hand now rests on your waist. A gesture that brings with it the veil of a certain intimacy, persuading your hands to stop their tea-leaf activities. How unexpected for him to just walk into the kitchen here, almost ambushing you from behind. 

"When did you get so handsy?" you ask, amused. Not averse, no, not at all - but a little surprised that Ramattra is so open with you.

"One word and I'll stop immediately."

"Don't you dare."


There's no snarky comment coming from him, instead the hand moves slowly from your waist to your stomach. So slowly that you could stop this gesture at any time with just one word, but you won't, no. It feels too good. Don't stop.

Ramattra presses his body lightly against your back and you feel the metal of his chassis against your shoulders. The realization that you're barely up to the shoulder of this huge Omnic makes your insides boil like lava, and once again you have to admit that his size does something to you. It's a good thing you picked up some interesting tips and tricks from K33N - just the thought of coaxing some spicy sounds out of the Ravager makes you sweat. 

The hand on your waist moves forward, ghosting over the fabric of your shirt with barely perceptible touches, finally stopping where your pants and shirt meet. The attempt to swallow against the excitement in your throat fails, so the next breath falls stuttering over your lips; it is taken as a sign that you like this. Which you definitely do.
 
The other hand on your shoulder creeps up to your neck and over the soft skin; Ramattra's hand is cold, but that only adds to the strong, tantalizing contrast between Omnic and human for you. His fingertips slide up, following the muscles in your neck to your chin, preventing your head from turning to him. 


Okay, let's see where this goes. Your rational inner voice remains cool and calm, but something in your chest vibrates at the Ravager's touch. The fact that he's taking the initiative is a surprising turn that you welcome with open arms. 


Slowly and delicately, his hand on your stomach slides under the hem of your shirt, causing your body to press against the mechanical torso behind you; a silent plea to not stop what he's doing. 

Ramattra leans in close and lets the cables of his wild mane drop onto your shoulder; the weight of the black cables alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat. On top of that, his faceplate now presses into the curve of your neck, right against the hot skin which is already tingling. The satisfied hum of cold metal against warm flesh echoes from his own ribcage through your entire body, down to the depths of your spine. This elicits another small sound of approval from your throat, for whatever Ramattra is up to, you're right there with him. 


Well... if it weren't for the duties.


"I have to--" The cool fingertips that gently pull up the fabric of your shirt pause for a second as you raise your already hoarse voice. "The food, I-"

A dark chuckle comes from the Omnic, sending a small shiver through your torso. Fuck, what a nice sound. "You're making stew. It'll take at least twenty more minutes 'til it's done."

"Oh? So you're a cook now?" You can't help but give a cheeky reply, which results in a gentle pressure of his hand on your jaw. 

"It's very basic cooking knowledge," the Ravager teases you lightly, while his hand on your stomach moves further up. He draws invisible lines from the waistband of your pants, past your belly button and further up, always checking to see if you want to stop these touches. But you give nothing but small, encouraging sighs and deep breaths, designed to distract you from the tingling heat building between your legs. And when you move a little, the friction of your pants against the most sensitive parts of your body is truly heavenly. 

As the hand under your shirt reaches your chest, you gasp - the soft skin welcomes the contact of the metal hand with a shiver. It's impressive how painfully slow the Ravager moves, his fingertips tracing and mapping every curve of your soft flesh. He memorizes every inch of your body, as if burning each touch into his processor. And when you focus and listen closely, you can hear his vents exhale deeply - probably not due to the warm room temperature. It's impossible for the Omnic to be struggling with this lovely, aching heat the way you are, isn't it? 


The moment his fingers brush one of your already hard nipples, the next soft gasp almost gets stuck in your throat. Of course, this does not go unnoticed and Ramattra repeats the movement with a now inspired interest; cold metal brushes your chest with more vigor, with the clear aim of coaxing that sweet sound out of you again. 

His faceplate may still be resting on the curve of your neck, but he's watching your body's reaction to his touch very carefully. Each time his hand touches your nipple again, you unconsciously push your pelvis back slightly, toward his body. And when he pinches that sensitive part of your body, then-

"Ahh-! Shit-" The next sound that comes from your lips is much more desperate than any before, rougher than anything he's heard from you before. The soft sigh of his chassis' vents tell you that the sounds you make now have his full attention. Undivided interest and a certain ambition to repeat it. 

The hand on your jaw disappears, joining the one under your shirt on his chest. Warm flesh is massaged by hard metal hands, gently and with a certain self-control, but ambition makes even Ramattra sloppy and he can't help but touch your nipples again and again. Every small sound, every deep breath is a new incentive for him to push his body into your back and hips, to push you against the countertop; it takes every ounce of control on your part not just to grind your pelvis into the wood in front of you and thus gain at least a little release. 


"I hear someone coming." His deep voice so close to your ear is distracting enough, and it takes you a second to realize what the words mean. His hands leave your chest and you almost let out a protest as your stupid, horny brain finally realizes what he just said. 

"Damn it," you growl instead, feeling great disappointment as the Ravager pulls back. Cold air takes the place of another body on your back and you pull yourself together - you too hear footsteps outside the door. 

"Hey, Yasha's already asking where the food is." K33N sticks his head in the door and nods to Ramattra. "Yo."

"K33N," the Ravager replies in a neutral tone, as if he didn't just made you seriously consider grabbing the Omnic and leading him to your room to finish what he started. 

"Almost done!" you say in a voice that sounds somewhat annoyed - almost like you just had another little argument with the Omnic next to you. "Tell Yasha I need ten more minutes!" 

"Gotcha." With that, the door closes and K33N disappears, leaving only Ramattra, you and this... tension in the room. You can't manage more than a deep exhale, your sex throbbing violently with the demand to be noticed; since when has the Ravager been such a smooth seducer? You would have expected it from anyone, but not from him! 

"We can continue later if you want." His suggestion hits you like a frying pan in the face, and instead of answering with a vehement 'Yes, fuck, YES!!', you chew on your lower lip. 

Finally, you look at the Omnic, who's standing next to you as if nothing had happened. That- that bastard. If you didn't know better, you'd say he's got a plan in his head for how this evening should go.

"Sounds good," you say in a nonchalant tone, but you both know you're just pretending. He doesn't need to know that a firework of questions, excitement and anticipation is exploding in your head right now - though you suspect you're not doing a very good job of hiding it. 

 

Chapter 37: The embers of a fire

 

It's a good party.
 
Almost the entire monastery is present, both humans and Omnics, sitting together in the large common room which is beautifully decorated with dried flowers and candles. The warm light bouncing off the walls makes everyone glow, almost as bright as the smile on Amelia's face as she wipes away a few tears of joy at this wonderful gift from her community. Meanwhile, Yasha holds the baby, who's overwhelmed with gifts: Homemade wooden toys, sewn or knitted clothes, and a scarf woven by the monks themselves. It warms the heart to see that this child, born in the heart of the monastery, is so loved. Humans and Omnics are giving their hearts to this child in absolute unanimity. Truly, the sight is dreamlike. Exactly what the world needs.

But... it arouses a feeling in you that you can't put a name to. You think of your family and the Crisis, of the days after the fall of your home, when you wandered through the poisonous rain, wet and without shoes, until a soldier picked you up and put you in a truck that was just as cold. The way to the orphanage was long and hard, and what came after wasn't much better. 


Jealousy. You're probably bitter and jealous because you weren't born in a time of peace. It's such an immature and stupid feeling, and you're ashamed to be jealous of a baby - so ashamed that you turn away and pretend to check the food again, even though the feast is over already. 


"You're upset." Ramattra appears out of nowhere behind you, and you wonder, probably for the hundredth time, how such a big robot can be so quiet. 

"How do you know?"

"I can see you gritting your teeth." The Ravager leans in slightly and lowers his voice. "And your poker face could use some work, too."

And indeed, you look at the empty pot of semolina with such a disgruntled expression on your face that one might think you hadn't gotten any and were sulking about it. This celebration is such a joyous occasion, and you look like you're in the middle of rainy season... 


"Here." K33N also appears behind you with a small ceramic cup of wine. "Drink. It's unbearable to see you in such a bad mood."

"I'm not in a bad mood!" you protest immediately, but accept the cup. The wine smells wonderfully sweet and spicy, and a small sip immediately warms your belly with a pleasant tingling sensation that extends to your fingertips. Feels good.

"What I wanted to ask you-" K33N pushes you a little to the side so that you are standing away from the table where the used dishes and empty pots have been stacked. "Have you heard from Aria?"

"No." Thoughtfully, you try to remember the last time Aria sent you a message. Her trip to England to meet a good friend should be over in a few days, and she'll be on her way home soon. "I think it's been a week, maybe? But I haven't heard from her in a few days."

"Me neither," says K33N. 

Now you both look up at Ramattra, who shrugs barely noticeably. 

"I hope she gets back to me soon," K33N continues, but you can hear the slightly worried undertone. "I'm supposed to pick her up at the station when she gets back." 

"She'll get back to one of us soon," you assure him. "She's probably busy hanging out with her friend. What was her name again?"

"Lanet," K33N replies. "Aria often spoke of how close they were before she came here." He pauses briefly, but it's a pause so heavy you can tell the fishing bot is really worried. "I'll send her a message tomorrow. Hopefully she'll reply this time."

"I'm sure she will." Your words of encouragement hit iron that won't bend; K33N sighs slightly and thanks you for your time, then disappears from the common room. 

You give Ramattra a worried look, which he silently acknowledges by bowing his head slightly. A hand touches your back, gently and with the intention of easing your worries as well - the Ravager may not have words of encouragement for you, but he's still trying to respect your feelings. This reminds you of the moment in the kitchen a few hours ago. A touch so gentle, so full of unspoken words.

To be honest, you'd actually like to discuss this topic in more detail before you cross a line from which there is no turning back. 

"Hey, can we- can we talk?" you ask, looking up at the Omnic watching the party. He's still standing behind you, his body not touching you, but definitely close enough for you to hear the low hum of his cooling fans. 

"Of course." He seems a little surprised that you want to talk to him, and rightly so: Normally, you two only talk to each other when things are already going south.

Together you go to the farthest corner of the common room - it would be noticed if you both just disappeared like that, because the monks are such gossips - and stand next to each other, as inconspicuous as possible. 


"So," you clear your throat and take a big gulp of your wine. "About what happened in the kitchen. It was nice."

"It was, yes." He tilts his head slightly, the only thing that betrays that he doesn't know where this conversation is going. To read Ramattra, you have to look and listen carefully: it's small gestures like this that reveal so much more about him than his words ever could. His body language is always composed and controlled, but it's these little things that eventually catch your eye. "Have you changed your mind about continuing this activity?"

"No!" you answer immediately, perhaps a little too hastily. And too loudly, because two monks turn their heads curiously, which you comment with another sip of wine. It takes a few seconds before you and the Omnic can enjoy some privacy again. A few seconds to get your shit together.

"No," you repeat, more quietly this time. "I find the idea very... um, appealing." 

"Appealing." His voice sounds amused, even mocking. Admittedly, this kind of conversation is not your forte. 

"I mean-- I guess I just want to ask how far you want to go," you try desperately to save your credibility in this conversation. "Before it all ends in a misunderstanding. An embarrassing misunderstanding." 


Ramattra doesn't answer for a moment, but then he sighs lightly through his fans and takes a step closer. It would be a lie to say that the mere proximity of the Ravager doesn't send you into a state of euphoria. 

"Obviously, I haven't made myself clear," he whispers to you, barely audible over the sounds of the party, but his voice now sounds so hearty and dark that you need another sip of wine. "I've decided to take advantage of all the benefits of a romantic relationship with you." 

You almost choke on your drink when he says that. It takes a raucous cough and an even deeper breath not to choke on the wine and make a complete fool of yourself at the party. On top of that, the Ravager's hand is suddenly at your back again, as if to emphasize his words. First his fingers brush against the fabric of your shirt, then suddenly his hand slips underneath, and you have to wonder if you're dreaming. Since when has he been brave enough to publicly touch you? As if it wasn't enough that he basically just told you to your face that he wants to sleep with you, now he's discovered his penchant for teasing...

"So you want the whole package?" you ask quietly, with a slight croak in your voice from almost choking on the wine. "Are you sure?"

"You sound surprised." 


It's true. You are surprised. This whole day has been full of surprises from the Ravager! 


"I didn't take you for someone who was particularly interested in physical intimacy with a human," you answer truthfully. 

"Me... neither." His hand continues to trace invisible lines across your skin; just deep enough to brush the waistband of your pants under the fabric of your shirt. Slow movements, as gentle as they are excruciating. That bastard. "I guess I wouldn't be interested in it if it wasn't for you." 

That's a pretty strong compliment. It's hard to believe it actually comes from him - but it warms your chest more than the spiced wine ever could. 

"I have feelings for you." The words come easily over your lips, loosened by the wine and the need to make it clear to the Omnic that this is a big deal. Because it really is, for both of you. The fact that you've changed so much in the time you have spent cooking together is absolutely ridiculous. It's like night and day compared to when you first met and he did everything he could to avoid working with you in the kitchen; the adventures, the arguments, the reconciliations, it all leads up to this moment. 

Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you understand what you have just said, but you can't and don' want to take those words back. It's not a declaration of love per se, but by your standards it's probably very close. Words spoken with a certain honesty and sincerity. If he, the serious, aloof Ravager, can rise above himself, then so can you - if only out of pure spite. 


And for the first time, you witness the Ravager truly speechless. 

 

Notes:

oh boy, they're talking about feelings and silly stuff like that, I wonder what will happen in the next chapter....... 🤗

(sorry, but I had to cut this chapter a little short... the next chapter needs to be a standalone chapter for reasons. hrm hrm.)

Chapter 38: Eat me alive

 

There's a lot going on in his processor. 

Ramattra is trying to understand how and when his programming could've changed so fundamentally. Somewhere between the day he first walked into your little kitchen and this moment, something has changed. He changed. First in small doses, then in big steps, his emotional subroutines and algorithms have now been significantly expanded. The new capabilities go far beyond what Anubis was once programmed to do. He's no longer the Ravager he once was. 

He can feel your hand on his chassis. Warm, soft hands glide over the alloy of his breastplate, leaving feedback in his sensors. His processor instantly and greedily uses this input and categorizes it as pleasant. However, such delicate touches immediately raise his core temperature as well, a direct response of his mechanics to the implications behind those touches.

His sensors have also evolved. The protocols responsible for processing input have at least doubled - all without his conscious intervention. It happened in the moments you touched each other, every single one of them. His system craves your warmth, so alien at first; the warmth of your organic skin now nestled against him. There's nothing that comes even close to your body pressing against his, nothing that makes his processor run so hot. Just the thought of it is enough to make his fans sigh. 

And now, your scent is everywhere. Your room near the kitchen is crammed with ingredients and boxes, clay pots; and in the middle of it all is a small living area consisting of blankets and pillows, an upturned box used as a bedside table, and a few cookbooks. This pragmatic, very you bedroom smells of you, through and through. It's as if his sensors are drowning in the mix of spices and tea, your hair and skin; that subtle scent that always surrounds you and that he'd recognize anywhere. Two months ago, his system saw no reason to remember something like the individual scent of humans. But you are different. Special. 

His hand reaches for your hip, which squirms impatiently beneath him; his fingers feel the fabric of your clothing, tracing the curves of your body underneath with absolute attention, down to your thigh. A gentle, yet firm touch to the soft flesh is rewarded with a soft sigh that makes his processor sing; he wants more sounds from you, more sweet pleasure that awakens a previously unknown ambition in him. Instinctively, he sinks the faceplate into the curve of your neck, registering all those wonderful sensations his sensors are so hungry for; including your hands, clinging to his chassis as if he were the only thing keeping you from drowning. Your lips keep finding new places to kiss his alloy, new places he didn't even know existed - he never knew that he was so sensitive despite his metal nature. Your mouth whispers hot breath and silent, pleading words that he can't quite understand - because your hip is pressed so tightly against him that he loses his ability to process for a moment. 

You arch your back to be even closer to his body; a gesture that elicits a sound from his voice box, one that expresses a need that matches yours. 


Close. He needs you close.

A moment ago you were lying on your back in your arrangement of blankets and pillows that serves as a bed, the next you gently push him away from you and sit up. In one fluid motion, you pull your shirt over your head, revealing even more of that soft skin he has come to appreciate. Even without conscious input, his hands are immediately back on your body, exploring the undiscovered areas; so many opportunities to expand his knowledge of your physiology, so much to appreciate. 

Just the rise and fall of your chest pours into his processor like liquid embers. Without the interfering fabric, Ramattra can see exactly how your body, an organic machine, moves as you breathe - it's mesmerizing, fascinating, and so much more beautiful than he ever imagined. So much more like him than he ever thought possible. 

Ramattra leans over you, a monument of strength and technology, with the power to break you snap a twig or to touch you so gently as if you were made of glass. He chooses the latter as he lowers his head again and steals another kiss from your mouth. It begins to become a ritual for you to press a first, then a second and finally a last, short kiss on his face. Three kisses, each softer and more affectionate than the last. It sends a strangely soothing moment of silence through his main processor. He could get used to it. 

But underneath all the pleasure and touching, he's... restless. Nervous.

He never even remotely thought he'd be intimate with a human. He's well versed in many things: ancient scriptures, mechanics and engineering, even advanced software manipulation - but this is beyond his scope. 

"You'll have to guide me." His words sound like he's asking you to teach him a cooking technique or the rules of a card game, and the small chuckle that springs from your chest muffles his fans slightly. But instead of following his first instinct and assuming the sound is mocking, he waits to judge. And indeed, a warm look escapes your eyes and your hands close around his jaw. 

"Of course." Your voice is so understanding and warm that he wants to dive into it and never come out again. Being in a tight embrace with you forever... the thought alone is pure bliss.


How unusual to crave closeness. This need subroutine is new, it's just developing, and yet it's already so strong that he couldn't erase it even if he wanted to. 


"Give me your hand."

Ramattra follows the request and allows your fingers, so much smaller than his, to close around the metal of his hand. He can feel the movement of your tendons and muscles, so sensitive are the protocols of his sensors currently set; nothing escapes his notice. He watches expectantly to see what you will do next, until you place two fingers in your mouth and run your tongue over them, a mischievous glint in your eye. 

Ramattra freezes in the face of the intense input that threatens to overwhelm his system: his processor stutters under the sudden load, the back and forth between hot and wet and soft. His fans hiss as the core temperature rises rapidly; instead of the normal 65%, his processing workload is suddenly at 78%, in a leap that catapults him into a state of mute admiration for the feel of your tongue on his metal. 

A rough, hoarse sound vibrates in his voice box and chest, carried by the need for more. More of you, more of that heat that creeps through his energy lines, gradually setting fire to every part of his inner mechanisms. And the more you lick his fingers, the more his system pushes to ignite that feeling of heat in you. The fire wants to be shared, to spread to both bodies until only hot ashes remain. 

You moan softly as you continue to suck on his fingers, which is transmitted through your chest and into his chassis.

"Show me how to make you feel good." He begs, he pleads, though he doesn't make it as clear in his words as his system feels it. But this request is rewarded with a thoroughly lustful look from under half-closed eyelids, something that immediately burns itself into his database. Beautiful. 

His hand, still guided by yours, leaves your mouth and moves down your body to the waistband of your pants. Your eye contact remains unbroken until you slide his hand into your pants. At the first touch of metal on the bare skin between your legs, your eyes close in pleasure, accompanied by a small gasp. 


Ramattra lies down next to you, resting his head on his elbow and concentrating on listening to your sounds and watching your movements. The warm, human hand leads his own further and further down until it finally reaches its destination and remains there. 

"You must be careful. We humans are fragile, especially inside," you say softly as he starts to stroke your sex with his fingertips. Your voice is heavy with lust and a certain impatience that can only be held back with great effort. He understands, for that need is also pulling at his system and the security restrictions that otherwise keep him under absolute control. The Ravager begins to falter, all because of this one touch you allow him. 

"I won't hurt you." He means it. 

"I know." Your eyes meet again, and the trust you place in him is enough to completely shut down his second processor. In a surge of blind affection, the Ravager presses his forehead against yours, drawing a hoarse, needy sound of intimate pleasure from both of you. 

"May I?" His voice is barely above a whisper, and the answer is just as soft, but with a sigh of pleading in it. 

"Please." 

That's all Ramattra needs to hear. He deliberately moves the hydraulics of his hand slowly and carefully to sink a finger into you - and, ohh, the sound, the moan he gets in return is divine. The deep sound escapes your throat and with your free hand you grab the edge of his chassis. His fans growl softly as the core temperature of his insides rises abruptly at your voice, so distorted by the biting desire for more. 

"So hot." His own voice cracks slightly, so hard is his processor working through the new input. His sensors are picking up so many things at once that his computing power can barely keep up. "So wet." 

"Ramattra-" Your voice prays his name and he hears you; after he pulls a finger out of you, a second is added and you whimper so beautifully. And when he moves his hand, just a little, your free hand reaches even harder into his chassis - along with so many sweet little sighs and noises that he doesn't even know what to store in his long-term database first. 

Slowly at first, but with increasing confidence, the Ravager pumps his fingers in and out of you, testing your sex with the palm of his hand. He drinks every noise that comes over your open lips into his system: You whimper and sigh, pushing yourself into his touch and your pelvis into his hand. He seems to be doing a good job, the way you wriggle underneath him, positioning yourself so that he can hit the especially good spots.
 
It's a game for him to find out which are the best spots. His index and middle fingers caress your walls, savoring what there is to savor. One sound follows the other, and Ramattra feels how each of your moans fuels this hot impatience inside him, his processor drowning in the desire to find release. But how, that is the question. 

And as he rolls his fingers in slightly, he seems to have found a particularly good spot; your hips buck up, into his hand, and you moan so deeply and loud that he immediately makes a mental note to repeat this motion. Your own hand leaves his, he got the idea of how this works by now - and he follows the path of your instructions, only to deviate from it and try new things. When he separates his fingers slightly inside you, you even put your hand over your mouth to muffle the next deep moan. Unsuccessfully, because he repeats the motion and the next sound is so lewd that he believes that liquid iron is flowing through his energy lines. What a beautiful, shivering mess you are.

Your body grows warmer, almost hot. Sweat begins to shine in tiny beads on your skin, and the breathing becomes rapid and labored. The Ravager watches your excitement grow and how it manifests itself: as he sinks a third finger into you, you lift your pelvis to give him even better access. His movements quicken as he drowns hopelessly in your voice, which is now nothing more than a symphony of whimpers and sighs, moans and sobs, with the silent plea not to stop. 

"Faster, please-!" Your voice breaks and Ramattra's attention increases even more, if possible. "I'm going to- Ahh, fuck-" Your body presses into him, grinding greedily against the touch that brings you closer and closer to your climax. 

"You sound so good when you beg." Ramattra presses his faceplate into the curve of your neck as you cling to him, not really hearing his words anymore, so desperate you are to ride his hand. 


"Ahh--! Ramattra!" You climax with his name on your lips and he feels it. His sensors detect how your body tenses around his fingers and your breathing stops for just a few seconds - until you finally exhale deeply and let the waves of sweet bliss wash over you with warm relief. 

To see that pure pleasure on your face - a face which he has studied so often over the past few weeks, is a wonderful sight. This expression of pure, white hot bliss that an orgasm brings to you is even more oil poured on the fire of his burning processor. And when Ramattra lets go of you, he feels your fluids on his fingers and his system stumbles over the thought that he wishes he could taste that fluid. Lick it off his hands while you watch.

"Not bad for a first time." Your voice brings him back to reality and he looks into your tired but mischievous eyes. 


Hmm. You have something in mind, he can see that.
 

"Open your chest plate," you demand, sitting up and pushing the Ravager onto his back. He lets you move him, curious and a little surprised that you seem to have recovered from your climax so quickly. You swing one leg over his hip and sit on him, a vision of sweaty beauty. But... he has never opened his breastplate for a human before.

You sense his hesitation, so you change your look from mischievous to gentle and lean forward to plant a kiss on his forehead. He follows your every move with a watchful gaze. 

"Tell me, Ramattra..." Your voice is loaded with desire and the after effects of the climax. He could listen to it all night. "Do you feel hot?"

"Hot?" he echoes weakly. Yes, very. "Why?"

"What's your core temperature?" A counter question. You really have something on your mind. 

"81.7 degrees Celsius." 

"Oh my, so hot."


You purr. It's a sound he's never heard you make before - and it pushes his core temperature even higher. Warm hands run generously over his chassis and the breastplate that separates you from his inner workings. Every touch reassures him that things will work out in his favor. 

With a soft hiss, he opens the purple centerpiece of his chest plate, with both sides then moving slightly to either side of his ribcage, revealing his inner workings. Human hands push aside the fabric of his robe, and he watches as your eyes widen in admiration at the sight of cables and wires. 

Deft fingertips trace one of his power lines to his motherboard, a rhythmic puzzle of cables and arrays. For a split second, the Ravager is unsure if this is what you want and need - but his doubts are instantly dispelled as you hook a finger under one of the cables and pull gently until it's taut.
 
A flood of input rushes into his processor and explodes in a load of little error messages and pings, only to shoot into his secondary processor and cause the same chaos there. Every corner of his system that comes in contact with this flood of data is on fire; he's overcome with hot desire, in a new and so intense subroutine that a tortured moan escapes his voice box. 

Ramattra's hand shoots forward and grips your waist, tightly, with a silent plea not to stop. This violent reaction seems more than welcome as the hand inside his chest grabs a second cable and pulls on it until it tightens. Ramattra moans again, hoarsely, no longer succumbing to the illusion that he can somehow control his reactions to the violent wave of input. His mechanical body welcomes the new sensation of satisfying the desire you continue to drive into him; he's fire and hot metal, steel that bends under the enormous strength of the lust in his emotional protocols.

His processor is teased further with each of your touches on his inner workings, so that subroutines are now being pushed into the background without his conscious awareness. His system is rearranging priorities: chasing that heat is the most important thing right now.

He can't externally feel the touches in his chest because of the lack of sensors there, but that makes it all the better: every time you pull on a power line or a connection cable, a violent shower of new input and error messages rushes through his system, leaving his hydraulics trembling and weak.
 
"Is this good? Do you like it?" Your voice is somewhere above him, he can feel the weight of your body on his hip, but he can't focus on it. Not when his main and secondary processors are caught in a feedback loop and he doesn't know what's going to happen next; he's never been in a state like this before. 


And then a weird thing happens. The enormous amount of work is too much for his system, the house of cards collapses, and a new, unknown protocol intervenes: his secondary processor crashes and reboots, causing his main processor to be unable to handle the workload on its own, and with a deep groan, Ramattra feels his entire system go into a forced shutdown. The heat in his body flares up, then collapses, and then there is - nothing. 

[ R-7000 BOOT SYSTEM: RELOAD... ]


It takes a moment for his operating system to come back online. And it takes another moment for his sensors to come back online. 

"Ramattra!" Your voice is distant, but then his comunication protocols come back online as well. You are still sitting on top of him, wide-eyed and seemingly a little frightened. 

"I'm fine," he mumbles as his system immediately runs a quick diagnosis. 


[ EMERGENCY DIAGNOSIS SUCCESSFUL. ALL PARAMETERS LIVE AND REGULATED. ]


So far, so good. His fans are still running at full speed to get rid of the excess heat in his body, but otherwise he feels... good. Very good, in fact. It's as if this forced reboot has cleared out and sorted his system. He certainly feels clearer than before. 

"I didn't know that-" You put a hand on his chest, which closes again with a soft click and hiss, while he sits up a bit under you, leaning on his elbows. "Well, that Omnics have orgasms too."

"Well, I guess we're both a little smarter now." By the Iris, Ramattra feels so exhausted, like he hasn't gone into sleep mode in weeks.

"Man, K33N could have warned me about this," you mutter quietly. Obviously he must have rebooted for a few seconds, as scared as you look. "I mean, I picked up a few tips about Omnics and humans from him, but he didn't tell me that-"

"From K33N?" Ramattra asks, sliding a hand to your waist as he anchors himself to reality with the feel of your warm skin on his sensors, while his subroutines gradually restart in the background. So he owes this wonderful new discovery to that guy of all people. Great. 

"Hey, it probably wouldn't have been quite as entertaining for you without him," you shrug and give a weak smile.

The Ravager scoffs.

"I have to admit, this was... intense," he finally mutters as he lets himself fall backwards. No, he can't pretend to be the calm and collected monk now. Because right now, he's at the mercy of the reboot of all his systems, just as he's at the mercy of the warmth of your skin as you let yourself fall on top of him, your bodies nestled perfectly against his. 

There's no control anymore, only the heavy sigh of his fans, persuading you both to spend the rest of the night together in this nest of blankets and pillows. And neither of you can resist this sweet temptation of sleep and sweet, hot dreams. 

 

Notes:

congratulations Ramattra on not being a virgin anymore lol

also no, sorry, he's not getting a huge purple robo dick 😔💔 bro has no mods in this fanfic

Chapter 39: Before tomorrow comes

When you wake up, Ramattra is already gone. With a yawn, you sit up and push the blanket away from your body, only to have Spike happily jump on the bed and make clicking noises. 

Over the past few weeks, since you and Ramattra somehow got together that night - it's unofficially official between the two of you now - a certain routine has been established. No one talks about it in the open, but it hasn't escaped Yasha's or Zenyatta's notice that you occasionally spend the night in the Ravager's room and then sneak into the kitchen in the morning. 

"Good morning, Spike," you greet the Slicer, who is hopping around on the bed, just waiting to be unleashed on the monastery. Ramattra doesn't like it, but you find it charming when the little bot is allowed to walk around the monastery like a pet and enjoy the company of all the other residents. Spike is very popular with the monks, so why shouldn't he be allowed to have his own little adventures? 

A glance at the clock tells you that it's time to prepare breakfast. Bread, freshly baked the day before, is served with homemade preserves, and there is also nutritious and satisfying porridge. But before the preparations begin, there is an important ritual to perform. 


It's unusual for the Ravager to be in the archives this early in the morning, but unfortunately it's been happening more and more over the past few weeks. It became clear some time ago that something was eating at him. So far you haven't been able to get a word out of him, but that's no big surprise; Ramattra is as closed off as ever when it comes to his past. It's a wonder he's shared any part of it at all. 

In the kitchen, you place the battered old kettle on the stove and turn on the gas. The little blue flames dance wildly and the waiting time gives you the opportunity to feel into this very calm, cold morning. The morning temperatures are freezing at this time of the year, especially up here in the mountains. Hoarfrost is already on every plant in the courtyard, making it sparkle and covering the small building of your kitchen in an enchanting white. Worst of all, it's so terribly cold in here that it makes you want to crawl back into bed with a big Omnic next to you. 

The water boils, you pour yourself a cup of tea and a second cup of hot water, which your cold hands gratefully accept. 

Before you even begin to prepare breakfast, you make your way to the monastery's vaulted cellar and archives. You are greeted by dust and the smell of old books, along with a certain coldness that reigns down here. When it gets too cold, heaters have to be installed down here again to keep the old books and writings from getting moldy and falling apart. 

"Good morning." Ramattra is sitting at his desk as usual, covered with books and notes, with papers full of categorizations of the inventory. You place the cup of hot water next to him, carefully so that it won't be knocked over accidentally and destroy the valuable writings. Your hand finds his shoulder and you plant a kiss on his faceplate, even though he doesn't look up from his work. Every morning he gets this cup of hot water, just because you feel like it - he never asked for it, it's simply a gesture of affection. A cup of hot water that says 'I think of you, even when we're apart'.

"Did I wake you when I got up?" He asks, but you shake your head. 

"No. Spike woke me." 

The Omnic makes an unhappy noise in his chassis. "You let him out again, didn't you?"

"He's bored in your room!"

"He's a helper-bot, he's not bored."

You laugh. He really is very serious about the little Slicer. The helper-bot has developed a life of its own, as pets tend to do, and that goes against the Ravager's grain. Spike is supposed to obey and do what he was designed to do, but every time Ramattra says that, he gets a long, stern look from your eyes.

He's all too happy to forget that he's also outgrown his own programming, in more ways than one. 


Even if you're in a good mood, he's obviously not. You don't even have to ask why: for some time now, his nightmares have been getting worse. He hasn't mentioned it to you yet, but you can put two and two together. He's been sleeping much less for about three weeks, he's irritable and very short-tempered. He gets up before you and goes to bed after you when you spend the night together. It may be that Omnics need less rest than humans, but the effects of the lack of rest are clearly noticeable. 

However, it would be unwise to dwell on the subject. It's still a taboo subject among you, especially in light of these symptoms, which testify to the damage done in the past. The last great wall that seems insurmountable. It seems impossible to find a solid foundation to even bring up the subject. So it's kept secret until one of you explodes and it ends in a big fight. 

Can't this cycle be broken somehow?

"Don't forget that Master Mondatta asked for you," he reminds you, "You have an appointment before breakfast."


Damn, I totally forgot.


"I didn't forget," you lie, but the Omnic just shakes his head.

"Yes, you did." 

Smartass, but he's right. You may pride yourself on knowing the Ravager well by now, but he knows you well too. Being known inside and out is the risk you take when you emotionally surrender to each other. Whether you like it or not, you don't know yet. 


* * *


As always, there is a certain stillness in Aurora's chamber. The golden light in the room casts long shadows of the Omnics, who quietly pray and meditate, seeking enlightenment in what Aurora has left them. Every time you see the image of the Iris, you feel a certain stab in your chest. A wall that separates you from the infinity and peace you so desire. It's an invisible bond that separates humans and Omnics, formed by the Iris that floats so gently in this chamber. An energy anomaly that exposes the pollution of loneliness in your very soul. 

"Master Mondatta," you quietly greet the leader of the Shambali, who, as is often the case, stands apart from the monks, lighting the candles and observing the meditation. 

"Good morning," he greets you, his voice as soft as yours, so as not to disturb the monks. "Thank you for coming so early. I know the kitchen is always very busy in the morning."

"Of course. How can I help you?"

"It's about your trip to France."


Oh, right. Your big blunder that got you into a lot of trouble with the leader of the Shambali. Fortunately, the dust has settled, but you still have to go to that stupid conference. 


"Protests are expected. I've asked our European liaison officers to pick you up at the airport, just in case."

Your eyebrows knit. "Ramattra will be with me," you say. "Nothing will happen to me as long as he's by my side." 

"Agent Chase still advised caution. There have been a lot of escalations in Europe lately, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried." Mondatta sounds very concerned indeed. Normally he's so calm and collected, but now there's something in his mechanical voice that gives you the creeps. It's as if he knows dark clouds are gathering on the horizon. A storm brewing.

He sighs. "I'm sure these tensions can be resolved peacefully. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with me."

"We'll be careful," you promise emphatically, but that strange feeling in your stomach refuses to go away. "Surely, we'll just stay in the hotel until the conference is over. After all, I only have to give one talk."

"I'm glad that Brother Ramattra is going with you. But I'm also worried about him." Whether he means that Ravagers are generally hated, or that Ramattra has refused to talk to Mondatta about what's on his mind for several weeks, is impossible to say. But the fact that the usually calm leader of this monastery is so worried does not bode well. 

"We're leaving on Friday," you say. "I'm... nervous. I haven't traveled this far in a long time."

"Indeed. It's quite a long way." 


"And I..." You are reluctant to say the next sentence. It makes you vulnerable. "I have this foolish hope that I might run into Aria, just by chance. I know it's stupid, but I still hope, deep down." 

Mondatta sighs and puts a hand on your shoulder; a gesture to assure you that he can relate to these feelings. 

"Her absence is painful," he agrees. "And I understand your hope that she's still alive." 

A blind hope that seems unfounded after all these weeks. A hope you don't want to give up. "I keep thinking-- that maybe she just went somewhere else to start over. And was too scared to tell us." 

The Omnic before you nods thoughtfully. "It's nice to think that she's out there somewhere, living a happy life." He doesn't believe it, you can hear it in his words. Mondatta is a pacifist and an optimist, but even he knows the statistics when an Omnic disappears - especially in England. The odds are not in her favor. 

"Or... maybe she'll come back to us." You hear your own words, but you can't believe them. 

"Maybe." 

She's not coming back. Part of you already knows this, even if the rest of you won't face the harsh reality yet. Aria left to visit her friend and never came back. That's how her story as a monk in this monastery will end, abruptly and with questions that can never be answered. She simply disappeared without explanation. Her disappearance left pain and reopened old wounds, and the itch to know what happened to her is unbearable. It scratches at the inside of your chest, so frustrated and angry that your friend's fate is uncertain. 

Hopefully she lives somewhere, in a small house, safe from the people who would do her harm. Safe from the people who see Omnics as objects and treat them as such. 

And even if she is not well - hopefully her end was quick. Without fear, without the pain of knowing she was treated as a second-class being. You scold yourself for even having these thoughts, but you can't stop them either. This dark hand takes possession of you and makes you realize that this world is a cruel world: it is a world full of suffering and pain, full of fear and violence. It's easy to give in and fall into despair, it really is. 

It happens to you, it happens to Ramattra, and even to Mondatta. All the more reason to keep your head up and move forward with strength. To make the long journey to France and speak at the public conference, watched by millions of eyes, to represent the Shambali and ensure that this Order is the light the world needs. A guiding light that leads Omnics and humans into a peacefull, united future. 

You'll have to be brave to face the whole world. 

 

Notes:

Sorry this chapter took so long - but this project and I are experiencing some complications at the moment. I have to admit that I've fallen out of love with Overwatch a bit - mostly because the game and its lore definitely don't get the love they deserve. (And man, Ramattra, I'm so sorry they hate you so much in Blizz HQ). I'd love to learn more about the Omnics, about Null Sector, but Blizzard just gives us new recolor skins instead lol.

And, I'm gonna be real with you, it's also because I really enjoy writing Transformers fanfics right now (sooo many good ships, so many hot bots)...

I'm not going to give up this fanfic, that's very important to me to mention! We're now entering the last third of the fic (the France arc) and I'm looking forward to slowly but surely bringing this story to an bittersweet end. I can't give an exact estimate yet, but I think there will be 100-110k words in the end.

Thank you so much for your patience!

Chapter 40: Lay your hands on me

Notes:

*holding a comically large hammer that has TRAUMA written on it* :)

 

"You should sleep."

"Omnics don't sleep."

"Yes, they do." 

Soft, warm hands rest on his shoulders as he works on the new secondary processor for Spike. The nickname has stuck, much to his chagrin. Even he now refers to the little helper bot as such. Spike.

"We're going into sleep mode to unload the subroutines and systematically reboot the lower systems," he replies dully, while his hands continue to do the finest work on the little bot's circuit boards on the desk. Only a few more steps and he'll be done, but then Ramattra will find the next project to work on. Anything to avoid idle mode. 

How many days has it been since he restarted his subroutines? Eight, maybe nine? Too long, that much is clear. But his fight against sleep, as you like to call it, has many reasons. Too many to put into clear, orderly thoughts. Emotional reasons, selfish reasons, and most of all: the nightmares are getting worse. 

"I could help you exhaust yourself to the point where you have to reboot." Your voice penetrates the thoughtful fog in his head and with it the safety circuits he maintains to avoid thinking about the... things that accumulate in his processor. It's disturbing how easily you can pull his strings. It's disturbing that these new subroutines can so easily appropriate all of his processing power - both main and secondary processors.
 
"You're interrupting my concentration," Ramattra tries to fend you off, but his voice box betrays him with a slight crackle. Your fingers are already ghosting over his breastplate, searching for the seams where his armor comes together and separates; damn your ability to learn so quickly. You've learned so quickly where his plates open, exposing the delicate internal mechanisms. Now you have become an insatiable beast, eager to drown his system in white hot lust; probably because you are a bit of a sadist, and it fuels your ego to make a Ravager do what you want with just a few simple touches. 

Either way, you should be ashamed of yourself. 


"You're letting me interrupt your concentration," you correct him, resting your upper body on his shoulder plate and wrapping your arms around his neck to reach his chest. Warm fingertips draw lines across the furrows that adorn his armor; invisible promises that he will experience another hard reboot that will completely overload his processing power for a moment. A moment of silence, followed by the systematic reboot of his sensors, as if he were experiencing this world for the first time, if only for a few seconds. 

And your smile, a little smug and proud that you can actually give him physical relief. And to top it off - you're really good at it. Your hands play with his wires as if you were caressing a human lover, so delicately and elegantly that he can't help but stare at your hands more and more whenever you do something. Skilled fingers, trained by the strict school of cooking, where clumsiness is punished with injuries or burns. That's how you learn to be skilled enough to make him question his sanity when he catches himself staring at your hands, fantasizing again.



A few months, or, barely half a year ago, he'd never have thought that he'd be at your mercy like this.

For a moment, he considers withdrawing from this contact. A hard reboot is guaranteed to put him into sleep mode, and that's exactly what he wants to avoid. 

But it's hard to resist that contact. How can he resist when a warm, soft body presses against his back and shoulders? When his sensors can feel your pulse, the heat of your breath on his alloy? It's impossible not to give in. 

At least that's what his new subroutines tell him. Ramattra was shocked to discover that these new emotional subroutines constantly expand and grow with your relationship. The closer he gets to you, the more these new processes and protocols become anchored in his main system. The gentle indifference he has acquired over the years in the monastery pales in the face of the violent emotional processes that are now taking over. It's a struggle for the control that he so desperately seeks and needs - but that is what is repeatedly taken away from him ever since you've been growing close. 

The depth of his feelings - including his feelings for you - are constantly expanding and evolving without him being able to do anything about it. He knows what it is, he knows what kind of feelings he has for you. He has read about it. But he still doesn't want to admit it. 

Because the more he feels these warm feelings, the more he feels the depths that are revealing themselves in him: doors to dark cellars in his processor that were closed before are opening. One causes the other, warmth brings cold - this warm, beautiful love goes hand in hand with an irrepressible rage. Anger at what has happened to his kind in the crisis, anger at Anubis and all that has been done to him. 

Anger at what he has done. 


There is a soft click, followed by a hiss. Ramattra's chest plate opens, revealing his insides, and your hands reach greedily into his chest. He can feel your breath on his faceplate as you lean over him from behind, and the chair he sits on groans precariously as he leans back into the wood. 

"You don't hesitate to open your armor for me anymore," you coo softly as your fingertip finds a cable and pulls it up slightly until it's taut. He jerks slightly, making a soft but greedy sound. "You trust me."

"I suppose I do," he says ruefully. The Ravager doesn't know why that bothers him. Trust is so... uncertain. And yet, for some reason, he trusts you. 

"Good," you praise, planting a kiss on his faceplate as he's rewarded by you finding a second cable and tugging gently. An instant error message shoots through his power lines into his secondary processor, where the command is given to increase the fan speed. A blast of hot air is expelled, though the attempt to cool his core temperature is in vain. 

"Do you want more?" The smug undertone of your voice alone fuels the embers of rebellion in him, that certain spite that makes him want to growl that this is a stupid question - but instead his voice box makes an almost pathetic sound, pleading and silent. His hand covers yours and presses it further into his chest, making this silent plea for more, and you laugh. It's the laughter of a siren, of a succubus who knows full well that their victim cannot free himself on his own.


You're evil, he thinks. Absolutely diabolical to take advantage of his weakened state. 


"Was that a yes?" You pull again, this time with an entire fist full of thin cables and a power cord, and Ramattra moans; a deep, rough sound that vibrates strongly in his chassis. His fans immediately click up a notch and his subprocessor shudders under the load of sudden error messages and pings. It teeters between greedy hunger and panic that serious damage is being done to his internal systems; but it is this balancing act that makes these intimacies so enticing. And you have an amazing talent for keeping him teetering on that very edge, until he is finally overcome by the heat and surrenders to the hard reboot that is building inside him. 

"Y-yes," the Ravager finally manages to say, his voice cracking as your other hand scratches across one of the circuit boards in his chest; he doesn't know how, but he can feel it. And it feels good. It fuels the heat in his processor, making his hydraulics stiffen in silent anticipation of the coming reboot. 

By the Iris, he has always hated being at the mercy of humans. It's hell on earth. But to be at your mercy like this, that's a bit of enlightenment and perfection, a piece of heaven. Damn it, he would even kneel down and beg you to touch him like that. Just the thought of being at your mercy, maybe even restricted in his movements, completely at your mercy... just thinking about it makes his core temperature rise and his fans exhale hotly.

"Please." The word escapes his voice box without him being able to stop it. It's the desperate plea for release that is music to your ears and makes you purr like a wildcat feasting on the blood of its prey. The hot flash of your eyes does not escape him, and in addition to the wave of shame that he's actually begging, the coming reboot now overwhelms him. 

Your hand grabs all the cables within reach and pulls hard, causing the sensors on his circuit boards to scream in outrage and flood his system with input in a hot torrent. His secondary processor sputters, chokes on the concentrated wave of information, and freezes - and his main processor, now overloaded by the new additional load, collapses as well, so that his protective protocols are immediately triggered. His system initiates an immediate shutdown, violent and instantaneous, but with a sense of exhilaration that tears a rough, dark groan from his chassis. 


Ramattra's hydraulics twitch and freeze as his fail-safe system kicks in, catching all his software to prevent any permanent damage. Heat surges through every power conduit, escaping through his cooling system, leaving only a mist of warmth and contentment. It is the split second when he swears that everything will be fine, no matter what. A moment of absolute bliss. 

And then his system reboots, subroutines restart, and his sensor matrix comes back online. For two or three wonderful seconds, the world is not terrible and unfair, but warm and beautiful and exactly what his soul so desires: peaceful. 

"Are you tired enough to join me in bed now?" Your voice is an anchor that holds him to reality and brings him back to his senses; one system after another is recognized as functioning again, along with the subroutines that allow him to feel a certain calm and relaxation. Once again you have enchanted him, brought him a little closer to infinity and fed those hungry subroutines that are completely beyond his control. It troubles him that these new emotions and their depths elude his control protocols, but this intimacy is just too tempting, too new and feverishly hot. "Ramattra?"

He wants to say yes, but only a silent nod comes out. He is tired, so tired. Exhausted and drained from the past two weeks, during which he has barely allowed himself to rest. Cold exhaustion now carves deep furrows in his processor, leaving a void that makes it impossible to think clearly; so he lets you gently urge him to get up from his desk and follow you to bed, which he has probably never used as regularly as he does now, with you.
 
Gentle hands push him into the blankets and pillows you have piled in his bed as if it were your own. His back hits the very thin mattress, but comfort is not something an Omnic needs. The warmth of your body, however, when you lie down next to him and rest your head on his chest plate is something he does not want to miss. So familiar, so necessary. 

"Sleep," you command in that soft but very firm tone of voice you use only when you are most intimate. You command and he obeys, initiating sleep mode and silently hoping that it will be a dreamless, deep sleep. 

Just a break, nothing more. The wound in his chest and shoulder costs him a lot of energy and coolant, so he overheats. He needs to calm down and rest for a few hours to lower his core temperature.


The barn is red. It looks black in the dark of the night, but the light from the small farmhouse belies the black and lets the bright red shine through. He quietly opens the gate and creeps in.

Just a short break. 

The barn is empty. The smell of straw is in the air, his system tells him. Straw and animals, grass and dirt. On the walls hang the tools of the farm: pitchforks, shovels, saws. Chains. In the shadows of the night they look like weapons. His system urges caution. 


It's dark and he's afraid. 


Ramattra closes the gate. Slowly and quietly. No one can see him. No one can know that a Ravager is hiding in the barn. The gate is heavy, and his hydraulics are damaged. Something is wrong with his system, something hurts. He's not sure what it is.

"You shouldn't be here." 

The voice is soft and sudden, and the Ravager spins around, reaching for his weapon out of pure programming, but it's missing, not there - and he stops. It's dark, but he senses someone close. The voice is low and fearful. 

"You don't belong here."

"Please," Ramattra whispers, his voice box filled with static. "I just want to rest."

"You can't be here," the voice insists, telling him to leave. The fear grows. "I have to tell the farmer."

"No!" Ramattra hisses desperately. "No, you mustn't!"

"But I must!" The strange voice swells. Fear meets fear. "Help-!!"

He lunges forward and his hands find the person. He holds them tight, begging them not to call for help. The voice gurgles and the fear grows heavier, screeching and turning to pure panic; just a break. He just needs a break. 

His hands find a throat and squeeze. He chokes out the sounds, muffling the cries for the farmer, for help, for the fact that an evil Ravager has entered the red barn. 

It's dark. He squeezes until there are no more sounds. 

Only when Ramattra feels something - someone - writhing beneath him does his system register what's happening. It only takes a split second for him to understand what he's doing. His hands grasp the lovely flesh, your beautiful, warm neck, and squeeze. 

The rest of your body writhes beneath him as he kneels over you on the bed, his entire system taken over by this nightmare; but when he wakes up and understands what his hydraulics are doing against his will, he lets go immediately.

Cold-hot fear and horror wash over him as you crawl out from under him in a flash, choking and coughing on the floor of the room. His processor comes to a sudden halt as what he has just done sinks in. He wants to say something, to assure you that it was not his intention to hurt you - but he can only sit like a stone statue on the bed where you usually snuggle up to him. His hydraulics are frozen, unable to move even an inch, while you crawl across the floor, coughing, clutching your throat, gasping for air. 


It's dark.

And he's afraid. 

 

Chapter 41: A state of slow decay

 

The thing about love is that it makes you feel like you're in control - but when it comes to the weight of emotion, all control is lost. Then you're in free fall, with nothing but the rapidly approaching ground to see; and then, what can you do but panic and flap your arms wildly? Or pray that the rough landing will kill you instantly so there's no pain to endure?

Years later, when you'll look back at this mess, you'll wonder why you didn't do the only right thing at the time. Why you didn't run for the hills or go to Mondatta to tell him about this. Years later, you will wonder if all this, all the deaths, could have been prevented. If there had been another way. 


But not now. 


Now you are sitting on the floor of Ramattra's room, hands at your throat and burning tears in your eyes. You try to take a deep breath, but are prevented from doing so by a coughing fit that assaults your irritated throat. It's a good thing you're already on your knees, or you might not be able to keep your balance - not in a state like this. A violent shudder runs through your body, accompanied by a wave of cold, clammy sweat. These are all symptoms of a violent fight-or-flight episode, which is perfectly natural under the circumstances.

The red glow of Ramattra's faceplate lights fights the darkness, a distant echo of something that has become all too familiar over the past few months. For a moment, fear hangs in the room, fear from both sides: the perpetrator and the victim. The accuser and the accused. Beginning and end, existing simultaneously and trapped in a moment that will forever be a crossroads.

You stand up, knees shaking and eyes fixed on Omnic on the bed, who's still not moving. He watches you, completely motionless. Only when you stop in front of the bed does Ramattra's hydraulics start to move with a slight humming sound. He moves his head, tilts it slightly.

"I'm sorry," his voice says, hollow and devoid of emotion. "I hurt you."

Yes, he did. There are strangulation marks on your neck. You'll have to wear a scarf for a few days until they fade. Probably more than a week. 

"You have to talk to me," you say, realising that talking hurts. Almost as much as tonsillitis or a very bad cold. But it's important to have this conversation now. Something is making you do it, push him deeper into this - fear, anger, despair. "Ramattra." 

Now the Omnic moves; he gets up and leaves the bed. His body is as massive as ever, a marvel of mechanics and endowed with something that can be called a soul. So very massive and heavy, but he moves with a graceful elegance that is second to none. A machine designed to kill, touched by the golden light of Aurora. And yet... A Ravager, through and through. 

The image of him hovering over you, his hands around this fragile human throat, flashes instantly through your mind. As if the moment is still happening, so horrible and full of fear. You woke up because of this weight hovering over you and his mechanical hands cutting off the vital air supply. You panicked and tried to get him off you, but to no avail. A desperate struggle for survival that, even if it lasted only seconds, reopened old wounds. Memories of the Crisis come creeping from the shadows of the mind.

It takes every ounce of willpower you have not to flinch away from him.
 
"You should go." Ramattra's voice is soft, barely audible. It's a request, a plea - a prayer you don't answer. No.

"I'm not going anywhere." The darkness divides you, like an invisible wall. The shock still lingers in the air, the fear of what is happening and what it means for this fragile relationship. 

"I want you to talk to me about it," you insist. "About your nightmares."

"They're not important."

"Yes, they are!" you snap. "Ramattra, you almost killed me." The words cut through the air like a knife and your body shakes; by the Iris, he almost killed me.


This Omnic is capable of breaking a person like a dry twig. When push comes to shove, you are completely at his mercy. And that is now perfectly clear to both of you. 

"And I apologise for that," he replies, stepping to the window, which shows the starry night through the ancient glass, with the mountains silently lying in wait. It's a quiet night. "I'm sorry." 

"You haven't slept well for weeks, and now this - it can't go on like this!" Your voice swells with anger. "If you won't tell me, at least go to Zenyatta or Master Mondatta!"

"It's nobody's business." He sounds as exhausted as you feel. He has never sounded so tired as he does now. "Not my brother, not Master Mondatta, not you." 

You cross your arms protectively over your chest to keep the anger inside. "You know what? No. After what just happened, I have a right to know." The Omnic is just an outline in the darkness, except for the red lights of his faceplate, which still hover ominously in the shadows. "I demand that you tell me!"

"You demand!" Now anger is rising in him too, and his own voice becomes so sharp that it makes you flinch slightly. "That's all you can do! You demand so much, all the time!" He stops, trying to keep the peace, but... it's over. All cards on the table. Honesty in its purest, angriest form. "You demand feelings that I have never experienced in such complexity. And it does something to me, to my programming. And--" Words. The right words are missing. "You ask for too much." 

"Only what I am willing to give myself," you reply, quietly but defiantly. "Honesty and trust."

He snorts. "No. You're not being honest with me either. I know very little about your past. And I don't pry into it because I respect that such things are painful."

"Just ask me! Then I'll tell you something!" 


Would you though? Would you really? 


Ramattra turns back to the window and looks wistfully up at the starry sky. As if the answers to this argument could be found somewhere out there, instead of here in this room. 

"What's wrong with you that you keep overstepping my boundaries?" he asks weakly. "You think the rules don't apply to you. You steal and lie with no regard for what happens to you or others. What is wrong with you?" 

Unfortunately, the words hit home because they are true. "I'm doing what I've always done to survive," you say bitterly. "You wouldn't understand." 


At this, he laughs. It's a hollow and heavy laugh, defeated and beyond what a laugh should be. He shakes his head slightly, the red lights sweeping through the darkness.

"I wouldn't understand," he repeats these words. "I understand so much more than you know." His eyes sweep through the darkness to meet yours. "You're not the only one who had to kill to survive."

"Tell me."

"No." The Ravager is weak with the weight of the nightmares still echoing in his processor. It's a burden so heavy that even an Omnic like him is in danger of breaking under it; one of the many burdens Aurora has placed upon her people. To love and to fear. To celebrate and to mourn. "I don't want to."


There is this... monster inside you that you can't hold back once again. Like a fiery tornado, it rages and forces you to want to repay the pain on your neck. Those who have hurt me must also be hurt. The strength to forgive is incredibly rare and you can't claim to possess it. 

"Tell me," you keep insisting in order to get this manipulative, selfish retribution. Swallowing hurts, but it doesn't lessen the bloodlust. "I deserve to know!" Inflicting pain on each other creates a certain equality. It gives you back control of the situation, the blinding rage whispers in your ear. "Ramattra!" 

"I killed someone who didn't deserve it!" His voice swells, dark and painful. "I fled after the Awakening, and my path led through hell. Being hunted by humans for days on end was- it was-- it changed me. It shaped me and made me what I am today."  

"You killed many!" you answer heatedly. "You've already told me that. We both did! To survive. The crisis made us all do things we wouldn't have done otherwise!"


He's silent. It is a deep, painful silence, a silence of shame. 


You stand up with that fire in your stomach and a disgusting greed to get what you want. A Ravager who submits to you emotionally just so you can control him - so you don't fear him. To fear Ramattra would be death; you'd rather ruin him.

What the hell is going on? You hardly recognise yourself, helplessly drowning in these terrifying, complicated emotions. You love him. So why is there this desire to make him small? Just so you don't have to be afraid that he'll do the same to you one day? Are you really that insecure, that much of a coward? But the process is already in full swing, driven by the pain in your throat and the violent tremors of adrenaline in your body. Everything about you is shaking like a leaf, body and soul. 


This isn't right. He doesn't want to say it. Stop it!


But you can't stop. Anger and frustration drip from every fibre of your voice. "Why does it bother you so much?!"

"Because it wasn't a human!" He storms towards you from the window, all chains of self-control broken, stopping just short of your body. The red lights are now burning into your soul. "It was an Omnic! An innocent, frightened Omnic - I killed one of my own kind!"

You stare at him, wide-eyed, unable to say anything. 

"I crushed his voice box to silence him! But when he still tried to call for help, I ripped out his processor with my bare hands to shut him up for good! And when he was dead, I was relieved." His fans blow hot air in your face, like steam from a hard-working machine. "I am a killer of humans and Omnics. I am a Ravager." A shudder runs through his hydraulics, cold and hopeless. His voice sounds tortured, but with a certain finality. "And I always will be."

Silence.

There's nothing to say. Nothing that would somehow salvage the situation. So you break eye contact and look down. There are no words left, may they be sharp as a knife or warm as an embrace.

You could turn and walk away, close the door behind you, and end this before any more damage is done to either of you. Years from now, you will look back on this moment with regret and wish you had. 

But instead, you step forward and wrap your arms around the Ravager's body, his hydraulics stiffening. With a desperate urgency, your body presses against the Omnic's, trying to hold him together so he won't shatter under the weight of this world - and after a brief moment, to your surprise, he returns the touch. His arms pull you so tightly against him that you can feel the gentle vibration of his fans. The fabric of his monk's robes is a little itchy against your face, but it's a feeling that grounds you in reality.

He holds you and you hold him.

The anger and fear fade almost instantly, replaced by a warm, fluttering feeling that promises everything will be all right, at least for now. It'll work out. 

Love always wins, right?

 

 

Notes:

borrowed the chapter title from this In Flames song :) (I listen to this album a lot when writing for this fic!)

https://youtu.be/BvXQrpuCOKk?si=QhmVCVQ4AF9LrHtf&t=133

Also I swear there will be fluff again at some point 😭

Chapter 42: Another place to be

Notes:

Happy Birthday Ramattra, you silly bot with your goofy crimes of hatred and desperation :)

 

The world inside the monastery is small and quiet. The stone walls lie peacefully in the morning, waiting for the sunlight to creep over the mountains and bathe them in golden light. In these early mornings, the old stone monastery breathes in and out the cold winds of the mountains, invigorating the inhabitants and ushering in the new day. 

It's a life you've been living and enjoying for several years. A quiet life that pushes the memories of the Omnic Crisis far away, where they are slowly but surely overgrown with moss and wild flowers. They fade and disappear into nothingness, slowly but surely. Then, of all the hunger, suffering, and terrible things you had to do to survive, there are only distant ruins that are little more than horror stories of your very own memory. Fading shades in the light of the morning sun.

Every day is full of hard work, the cold wind from the mountains, and a silence that heals many a wound. Such deep wounds, caused by battles and wars between humans and Omnics. And yet, in this small community, everything finds its balance. In the silence of the Nepalese mountains, evil and pain lose their effect and the sharp fangs and claws become blunt. 

It's quiet in the monastery. 


Not in Lyon, though.

You're standing in front of the large hotel that has been booked for you and your companion. It's a magnificent building, decorated with finely crafted gold and white stucco, with a huge front door through which the rich and famous pass. People with tiny dogs in their arms, with big suitcases whose contents are worth more than all your possessions combined. The people of Lyon are a collection of celebrities and politicians, especially now that the big UN event is approaching fast. Everyone is trying to make themselves look important, to make sure the press photos look good. Smiles worthy of toothpaste commercials are flashed, Omnic hands are being shaken when a camera is nearby and the air reeks of smugness and arrogance. 


And it's loud. 


People push past you, jostle you, and then mutter something indignant because you're in the way; meanwhile, you're just completely overwhelmed by the masses of people whose loud noises are hurting your ears. An unpleasant chill runs down your back and shoulders, and the desire to go home to your little kitchen is almost unbearable. 

"Ah! There you are!" Someone calls your name, but the passing cars are so loud that you don't hear it at first. It's only when a hand is placed on your shoulder, and you almost scream at the sudden touch, that you notice Colette. 

Colette Martin - UN Commission on Human Rights. Your contact in Kathmandu. The woman who's responsible for all this. 

"Hello," you greet weakly, instead of cursing her for dragging you into this urban hell. "Um-"

"Well, well, well--" She rummages through her oversized handbag and pulls out a folder that looks more like a school principal's than a UN commissioner's. She flips through the pages until she finds what she is looking for: a list of times and important points for the next few days. She holds the paper in her hand and quickly scans the words. "Ah, yes, that's the one."


- - -


Thursday 2 p.m. - Meeting with the UN Commission
Thursday 7 p.m. - Dinner with Prime Minister Moreau

Friday 11 a.m. - Breakfast with German Chancellor Habechtle
Friday 5 p.m. - Preparations for the Gala
Friday 8 p.m. - UN Gala

Saturday 3 p.m. - Presentation by the Shambali Monastery followed by a press conference
Saturday 7 p.m. - Dinner with the UN Chairmen


- - -


You stare open-mouthed at this terrible, crammed schedule. 


"I-- It's so much! I don't even know any of these people!" you reply angrily, glancing at Ramattra in panic. The Ravager remains in the background, arms crossed and, as always when he's amongst large crowds of humans, head hidden by his hood. He moves his hydraulics just a tiny bit, but it's enough to raise his shoulders slightly in a shrug. 

It's your own fault, this movement says.

"Now that Mondatta has canceled, you will have to take over some of his appointments as the official emissary of the Shambali monks," Colette replies curtly. "The dinners are mandatory. So is the gala. Evening wear will be provided for you. And make sure you're always on time - for now, you have the day off today so you can arrive in peace, unpack, freshen up, and so on." She puts the thick folder back in her large designer handbag and gives you both a stern look. "The UN is paying for your stay, but don't get too cocky. I'm the one who gets the minibar bills at the end of the week, so behave."

She pushes between the two of you to check into the outrageously expensive hotel herself - but then she pauses and turns back. 

"And I wouldn't brag too much about this... thing you two have going on," she says, a little more quietly than before. "Even though this event was moved from Paris to Lyon to avoid anti-Omnic tensions, there are still a lot of people here who don't like Omnic-human relationships." 

This leaves you even more speechless than before. First of all, how does Colette know that you and Ramattra have an intimate relationship? And secondly, you are not prepared to be confronted with Omnic racism so directly and forcefully. Sure, there's a lot of it, even in Nepal, but being warned not to exchange too much affection with your partner in public is definitely a bitter pill to swallow. Granted, Ramattra isn't interested in PDA anyway, but still - this feels weird. And wrong.

"We should check in." Ramattra notices the tension in your muscles and moves toward the entrance, whereupon you follow, hastily stuffing the paper with the appointments into your own pocket and wishing you had packed better clothes. In fact, you are only traveling in your monk's robe, the one with the yellow and orange colors that shine so beautifully when the morning sun hits it. And now there's a gala? With a dress code? By the Iris, this weekend is getting worse by the minute! 



"ID please," you are intercepted at the entrance. A man in a black suit pushes between you and Ramattra and the front door, which is held open by the Omnic servants. At your hesitation, the guard's eyebrows twitch slightly upward. "Please."

"Since when do you have to show ID to check into a hotel?" you ask, but you dig around in your bag for your travel documents and hand him your ID. 

He swipes the ID through a scanner, then nods. His eyes move to Ramattra, who is a head taller than the man. 

"Serial number?" he asks the Ravager without breaking his expression. 

Ramattra tilts his head slightly. "I will not tell you my serial number."

"Serial number," the security guard insists. "Or you can't check in."

"He's a Shambali monk," you hiss angrily. "So am I! We were invited by the UN, why do you want his serial number?"

"Omnics don't have IDs," the guy in the suit replies, and oh, the underlying hatred in his voice is very obvious to hear. "So we're writing down their serial numbers in light of the upcoming event. For the safety of all present."

"More likely for the safety of all humans present," Ramattra replies coolly. "I'm not giving out my serial number." 

The man snorts angrily. "Didn't expect anything else from a--"

"A what?" Ramattra leans into the man, and the red of the LEDs on his faceplate gently illuminates the man's skin. A terrible, toxic tension sparks between the two, making it abundantly clear that this is hatred at first sight. Time to intervene.

"Okay, stop." You step forward and channel as much of Mondatta's calm, monkish energy as you can from the distance. Take a deep breath, you're here as an official emissary of Shambali! "With all due respect, we are invited guests here, and if my companion does not wish to reveal his serial number, which is very private, mind you, then he will not do so." Now you lean a little closer to the man, with nothing but white rage in your eyes. "If necessary, we'll move to another hotel if it makes you feel safer." 

The man's mouth snaps open, ready to spit venom, when suddenly, someone else joins this conservation.

"Is there a problem?" A beautiful red-haired woman comes over to you. She is wearing a dark blue blazer with the name of the hotel embroidered in gold on the chest. She smiles broadly, and it's the smile of a woman who deals with the hotel's customers in a calculating and strategic way. Probably a manager. Her thick French accent only makes her more beautiful. 

"We weren't informed that we were considered a potential threat," you say, moving your body slightly to stand in front of Ramattra. His sheer size alone is enough to make people feel uncomfortable and threatened - and that often makes people harder to approach and more hostile. It's a good thing you look so harmless when compared to him.

"Potential threat?" the manager repeats with an even wider smile. "Oh no, I assure you that's not the case." She turns to the guard. "No need to be overly anxious," she tells him in a tone that does not allow for contradiction. "I'm sure our esteemed guests of the Shambali Order pose no threat." 

The guy in the suit wrinkles the corners of his mouth slightly, but then just grunts and waves you both through. Out of the corner of your eye you see him wave the next guests - all human, no Omnic - through as well. No ID check, nothing. What an asshole. 


"I'm terribly sorry about all this," the red-haired manager assures you, bowing her head humbly. "The security team for the upcoming UN event is made up of contractors who mean well, but are unfamiliar with the ways of hospitality. I apologize."

"It's okay - I guess," you reply, casting a sideways glance at Ramattra. His eyes linger on the manager for a few seconds before he glances at the ostentatious lobby, completely rejecting the conversation. He really is very taciturn today - do Omnics get jetlag too? Or is it because since the incident he has increasingly refused to go into sleep mode? Probably a mixture of both. 

Next, the red-haired manager checks you in personally, always with that broad customer service smile that you can't quite take seriously. Whether it's because you spend most of your life with Omnics and they don't smile is anyone's guess - but with this woman, it seems so unnatural and fake that it's almost creepy. It's like a mask hiding the calculating, cool nature of a hotel manager. It surely doesn't make her any more likeable.

"Your rooms are 408 and 409," she says as she hands you the key cards to the hotel rooms. "And you're also registered for tomorrow's meeting with the UN. Conference room 2C."

"Okay." That's a lot of information. Thoughts swarm in your head, wild as a swarm of angry hornets. Appointments, room numbers, times - it's all so much that you want nothing more than to be back in your little kitchen, making a cup of tea. Maybe a sweet porridge with freshly picked berries to round out the afternoon. But instead you smell the overpowering, sweet, flowery perfume of the rich old woman next to you at the counter. The crusty, white dog in her arms stares at you.

"I hope you both have a pleasant stay," the words are especially directed at Ramattra, who still refuses to say a word. He nods silently to the manager, and together you head for the elevators to the fourth floor. Even the elevator is decorated with gold, has a burgundy carpet and an Omnic that takes you to the right floor by operating the buttons. So rich people can't even press a button?

This is wrong. 

Everything about this hotel and these circumstances feels so damn wrong. You shouldn't be here, among the rich and beautiful, the politicians and the people who want to be. They all pretend to be sympathetic to the Omnics and their circumstances, but you can still feel that this is a human event.

As you both enter the hallway of the 4th floor and you wave goodbye to the Omnic employee in the elevator, you sigh softly. Shaking hands grip the strap of your bag so tightly it hurts. This is all just one big mistake. You're the wrong person for this job. What can you say to people to make them understand that Omnics share this world now? What can convince people to finally open their eyes? You're just a cook!

"You once told me that this world was created by my kind, for my kind," you say softly, and Ramattra stops. He turns to you. Your eyes drift to the end of the corridor, to the large window overlooking the Saône, gently glistening in the sun. It's a beautiful view. "I think... I think I know now what you meant back then."

 

Chapter 43: My rage is deep

Notes:

All my writing juice is currently flowing into my new monster romance book, but I haven't forgotten about my fanfics! Thank you again for your patience! <3

I get so many wonderful and lovely comments that sometimes I feel a little intimidated and afraid that each new chapter won't live up to the others... But I'm having a lot of fun exploring more of Ramattra's thoughts and feelings, so I just hope you like the direction I'm taking :D

 

He feels out of place.

Ramattra explores the hotel room with modest curiosity: it contains a bed, an adjoining bathroom, and a sitting area with a table. It's a rather large room, one might say. Well, it is a posh hotel, and the furniture reflects that - lots of ornamentation, soft shapes, and gold accents. It's full of vanity. He has never been in a hotel before, but he remembers the empty hotel ruins that dotted the ruined cities like looming tombstones during the Crisis.

He runs his hand over the bedspread, neatly tucked in by the hardworking housekeeping. His sensors detect soft fabric, smooth and of high quality. It's quite different from the fabrics in the monastery, which are rough and coarse, made of hemp or linen. At that moment, he realizes that he prefers the coarse cloth. He doesn't care much for cotton and silk.

The windows are huge and allow daylight to flood the entire room. Large arches of light make the tiny dust particles in the air glow and shimmer, dancing like pollen in the monastery garden in spring. The light, so much warmer here in France than in the mountains of Nepal, floods the room in orange as the day draws to a close.


He misses the peace of the monastery, the stone walls and the feeling of isolation. Solitude always wrapped itself around him like a warm blanket, a protective wall where he could always retreat completely. It was a cocoon that allowed him to transform from a war machine into an archivist - and a cook? Well, maybe not quite. But he is - was - the assistant of a fantastic chef. He'd never admit to it, but he does miss kitchen duty every now and then.

And Ramattra misses the soft music of the wind chimes in the monastery garden. When his brothers and sisters work in the small fields and he sits with you in the shade of the wall, tying herbs into bundles to be dried later. You tell him a story and laugh at your own joke while the wind chimes play. Then the wind carries the melody through the mountains, and for a brief moment he allows himself to be truly happy.

But now he's... here.

No wind carries a gentle melody, and the noise of the city comes even through the closed windows. Lyon is hectic and noisy, full of people hurrying through the streets, going about their lives. From above, they look like a bunch of ants, but uncoordinated and clumsy. Only a few Omnics can be seen on the streets, and most of them are service bots. They stand out from the crowd, if only because of their stiff movements in contrast to the humans. The humans move like a river, almost running into each other on the very busy streets. The Omnics, on the other hand, are the rocks in that river, a nuisance to the rapids that must work their way around them. If an Omnic is too slow, he gets pushed out of the way or roughly shoved; a small act, but one that proves that peace from the mountains is not to be expected here. Omnics are outnumbered in the big cities; they are a percentage in the records of the humans who rule this city. Someone like the Ravager is not welcome here.

Ramattra's processor drowns in angry pings as he thinks about it. The warm, gentle longing for the monastery turns into a strange anger at everything this city seems to be. An ugly face of the world that has turned against his brothers and sisters since the Awakening.

There's a knock at the door of his hotel room.

"Come in."

"Wow, your room looks completely different from mine!" You come in and look around. "Pastels and gold, not bad... My room is red and gold. It looks terribly pompous. Like a theater!"

You try to sound as casual and cheerful as possible, but Ramattra knows that particular undertone. When your voice sounds tense like that, it usually doesn't mean anything good. By the Iris, he really can read you like a book by now - and probably vice versa. He doesn't know if he likes that you can read him as well as he can read you.

"So, I know we were going to explore the city together, and I'm dying to go to a French deli, but--" You babble on, just trying to get the bad news out. "But I have to sit down with Colette and ask her what the hell I'm supposed to do with all these meetings. I'm really nervous because I have to talk to some important people and I don't know what to say."

"I don't mind," he answers immediately. The answer comes too fast, so fast that it surprises him. Maybe he needs some alone time after all? "You're not very eloquent when it comes to things like political hypocrisy. A little practice wouldn't hurt."

"Hey--" you protest half-heartedly against the jab, but your nervousness overcomes the urge to fight back. "You're right. I'm sorry for canceling our date."

Interestingly, he doesn't seem to mind. "It's no problem," he assures you, gently but with the necessary pressure. "You don't have to entertain me just because your loose tongue got us into this situation."

Oh. That came out a lot more passive-aggressive than he wanted it to. Or maybe did mean it? Ramattra can't tell - something inside him growls and bares its teeth at the thought of how much trouble you've already gotten him into. You're someone who attracts trouble like a damn magnet.


"Oh." Judging by your expression, you've noticed the aggressive undertone as well. Your body moves back slightly, almost imperceptibly. He notices though. "Okay, uhm,- I guess I'll see you later then."

Ramattra nods. "See you later."

And as you close the door behind you, he's... dissatisfied with himself. It took a lot for you two to find each other. There have been ups and downs, arguments and reconciliations, tears and heart-to-hearts. All of these things have fundamentally changed something in his programming, so that the new connections in his neural processor are completely uncharted territory; there are new depths to the Ravager that exist in both light and shadow. He doesn't want to lose that.

Love is warm and bright. When he thinks of love, he thinks of the soft light of the Iris that Aurora left for her people. The feeling of security and satisfaction. Your gentle touch on his chassis. Who would have thought a Ravager of all people could ever feel that? Who would have thought that loving someone could be as simple as pulling the trigger of a gun?

But in the shadow of that hot, blinding sensation, something stirs. A shapeless thing reaches out with icy hands and plunges the new neural pathways into a starless night. All the anger, all the suffering becomes food for this monster that whispers sweet temptations; be free from pain, those who dare to stand up and do something will be saved. Do something.


Well, it only makes sense that the new subroutines that make so many good feelings possible also have negative possibilities, right? It's all just a matter of control.


Ramattra sighs softly.

Perhaps a walk will bring the necessary clarity.

When he reaches the elevator, the Omnic from earlier is still at his workstation. The model reminds Ramattra of Zenyatta - a round face, friendly and obviously designed for public service. The Omnic is considerably smaller than him and wears the red uniform with gold accents that all hotel employees wear. He greets Ramattra politely as he enters the elevator and presses the button for the ground floor. It takes a moment before the Ravager decides to indulge his curiosity.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course." The Omnic bows politely. His posture is stiff, as one would expect from an employee of a five-star hotel. It's a stark contrast to the Omnics in the monastery, who have all adopted the more relaxed posture of humans. Well, except for Master Mondatta.

"Do you get paid for your work?"

The Omnic doesn't hesitate. "Not with money, no. I get room and board and the opportunity to have repairs done when necessary."

Something in Ramattra tenses. "And you're satisfied with that?"

"Of course," replies the elevator Omnic, then adds questioningly, "Shouldn't I be?"

"I think you should be fairly compensated for your work."

The service Omnic thinks for a moment. He lowers his head slightly, just as Zenyatta does when he thinks - they really must be similar models, but that only adds to the Ravager's anger.

"I enjoy my work," he says after a few quiet seconds. "I get to meet a lot of people. A lot of them are nice." He shrugs almost imperceptibly. "So I don't think I need extra pay if I enjoy it so much."

Ramattra can feel the anger growing. Anger fueled by the nonchalant tone in which this small Omnic speaks; he doesn't see that he deserves more. Why isn't he angry that the human employees in this hotel get paid money and he gets the bare minimum?

"You were designed to enjoy a service job," Ramattra replies, his voice laced with hard-to-swallow anger. "Isn't it obvious that's why you think that way? Because that's how you were designed?"

"Maybe." The button for the ground floor lights up, and a soft chime indicates that the elevator has reached its destination. The Omnic looks up at Ramattra. "By that logic, though, you would find acts of violence and senseless killing enjoyable. Ravagers were designed for that, weren't they?"


The sudden tension in his hydraulics sends Ramattra's processing power into a critical state; for a split second, his system sputters at the unexpectedly sharp reaction of the smaller Omnic. The small Omnic nods amiably, as if the words had never left its voice box.

"Have a nice day, monsieur," he says cheerfully, followed by pretending Ramattra is not there at all. After another heavy second, the monk exits the elevator and stands in the hallway that leads directly to the hotel atrium. Other guests stare at him, this huge Ravager, just standing there, motionless.

His system takes a moment to regain control of his anger. His fingers stretch out and clench into fists again, as if stretching sore hydraulics. Now he understands that there are Omnics who are hostile toward their own kind. They're on the side of the humans, condemning the Ravagers for what they did - what they had to do under Anubis' control.

Of course, he has always known that there are Omnics who betray their own kind. They think they're more like humans than other robots. But actually experiencing it is different from suspecting it. The seclusion and isolation of the monastery have wrapped him in warm cotton wool, shielding him from the reality of this world that is now opening up before him. People who give him a wide berth in this corridor and whisper behind his back. Omnics who see him as a blot on history. Even his own people see nothing but death and violence in the Ravagers.


It hurts.


But why?

He has no answer. And for a moment, he feels a longing to seek your company, to step into the light you shine on him and his life. You who accept him as he is, with all his flaws and mistakes.

But then he thinks of that night when things happened between the two of you. He thinks of the fear in your eyes and how you forced him to talk about the deepest parts of his soul. Things he doesn't want to talk about. It hurts, it twists something inside him, the fact that you forced him to and crossed a line from which there is no turning back. A breach of trust. You didn't let up until he revealed himself to you, and that feeds his anger at all of this, at the humans and the past and the present.

Maybe it's time to think more about the future.

Barricading himself in the monastery forever is not the answer. If there are so many Omnics who are as shamelessly beholden to the will of humans as the service Omnic in the elevator, then it's only a matter of time before the next crisis hits. And you, you're being held up as a model monk for the media and the rich and powerful. In this game, you're just a puppet on a string, manipulated by politicians for their own ends. You obediently dance to the tune they've chosen for you because you have no choice; you're too gentle by nature, too concerned with the longing for the peace that has been denied you all your life.

Ramattra can't blame you for following the rules, even if they're made to work against you. It's the easy way to do what you want to do: take care of others. To have a loving family up there in the monastery in the snow.

But he's a Ravager. He was designed to break the rules and hollow out the black core that laws and policies are meant to protect. Oh, how he wishes it were otherwise, but Ramattra will always be a Ravager. Designed for violence, yet exposed to the pure love of a human. He has grown far beyond his programming. Though in what direction exactly, that is his decision alone.

Fury roars in his chest at the thought of fighting for the good of his people; dark claws tear at his processor, planting seeds that will be the foundation of many things in the future.

 

Chapter 44: A notch, a crack

Notes:

I'm back with a new chapter! I'm almost done with a very big project (finally!!!!) and hope to be able to finish this fanfic afterwards. Thank you for your patience! :]

 

Like the parting of the Red Sea in the ancient legends of the humans, the people part as Ramattra makes his way through the streets of Lyon. His footsteps echo heavily on the pavement, the sound of metal on stone emphasizing his great weight and raw power. He towers over the people by at least a head, as well as over the few other Omnics he can make out in the crowd. They're small; designed for menial tasks in a big city, not destruction and killing.

As expected, the Ravager is met with wide eyes and whispered comments behind hands. There are no friendly words and only looks of contempt and fear. However, his modified body — the heavy black cables serving as hair are not standard Ravager design — seems to be met with undisguised amazement. Omnics like him are known only as war machines and have been almost completely wiped out, especially in this country, much like the Bastion Siege Automaton models. 

France was hit hard by the Omnic Crisis. The horror is still palpable among the population, which, over the years, has turned into a simmering hatred. Among the few remaining old buildings in Lyon stand new structures erected after the Crisis as part of the reconstruction effort. They resemble memorials, gleaming ominously in the afternoon sun. They are statues of the dead, memorializing all the lives lost and returned to the earth in rubble and ashes. Some buildings even have entire lists of names of those who lost their lives to Anubis's superior forces. The lists are endless, as long as Ramattra is tall.

However, no Omnic names can be found on them.

"Watch out, bot," grunts a passerby, bumping the Ravager with his shoulder as he walks by. Ramattra's body doesn't move an inch, of course. It must have hurt the man much more than it could ever hurt Ramattra, but the gesture of contempt and sheer dislike displayed is what matters most for people like this guy.


Bot. A derogatory term for the Omnics. Apparently, hatred is openly expressed here. This is a stark contrast to the peaceful monastery, though not an unexpected one. Instead of a quiet, loving community united by pain and healing, here he finds a group of people affected by trauma, a city that has lost its balance, with an underlying tension that is very worrying. Ramattra sighs. He can't wait to return to the monastery.


He continues on his way, ignoring the rude stranger. People have done much worse than bump into him; it's hardly worth getting worked up about. Judging by the hostile looks he's getting, many would rather do worse than bump into him. He can imagine what they want to do to him, a Ravager who dares to show himself so openly in a human city. Unfortunately, his Shambali robes do nothing to alleviate this hostility. In fact, they seem to incite it.

Perhaps the Shambali need some PR work after all, although he doubts you are the right person for the job. With all due respect and affection, Mondatta would have been a better choice. There must be more to this than an attempt to exploit your goodwill for PR. Even if Ramattra were to uncover a secret conspiracy among the politicians, the members of the UN and Colette Martin herself, what good would it do? Such things are open secrets, and everyone is in on it, keeping their hands in the till. In this human world, money is power, and power is everything.


The streets are filled with people, and after about twenty minutes, the monk is seriously bored. The piercing glances quickly become tiresome. Besides, this part of Lyon is not the old town, not beautiful to look at. Modern hotels and buildings are built close together, leaving no room for interesting features like history and ancient architecture. The well-planned green spaces pale in comparison to the mountains of Nepal, looking more like plastic trees and bushes planted by politicians during an election campaign. To the Ravager, it all seems fake and artificial. Just a spectacle, nothing more. And on top of that, it's loud and hectic.

He stops at a street corner. The sidewalk actually continues north, curves, and eventually ends in a path that leads back to his hotel. But something catches his attention: Something is peeking out from behind some trash cans in the side street: bright blue spray-painted letters.

Omnic signs. Illegible to most humans.
 

The Ravager turns and enters the alley. The side street is very narrow, nestled close to the small surrounding buildings. These old houses, with small windows and narrow doors standing closed and motionless in the shadow of the alley, are the few that survived the Crisis. The sunlight is swallowed by the shadows between the houses and Ramattra adjusts his optical sensors to reveal the alley's secrets. Even the noises of the streets and people are largely swallowed up here, sinking into the darkness as if it were the calm, dark surface of the lake where you love to fish.

At the end of the passageway, which is lined with trash cans and junk, there is another piece of graffiti behind some cardboard boxes. The Ravager stops in front of the wall, pushes the trash aside, and runs his fingertips over the bright blue symbols. They were hastily sprayed onto this rough wall, as if the Omnic who made them was in a hurry.

Signpost. A signpost leading to where exactly?

Ramattra looks around. Next to him is a large metal trash can filled with bags of household waste. Next to that is an old, slightly bent floor lamp that has also been discarded. There are cardboard boxes filled with more cardboard boxes and the glowing eyes of a stray cat watch his movements very carefully from behind one of the boxes. And to his left is a door, almost completely hidden by a large trash container. He hadn't noticed the heavy, dark iron door at first: It blends in with the shadows, and you can only see it among all the junk if you look very closely. There's a tiny smudge of blue paint on the doorframe.

Ramattra pushes the trash container aside like it's made of nothing but wood and air. He hesitates for a split second but then grabs the heavy door handle. It's rusty and refuses to move at first, but finally gives in. It's not locked.

He could go back to the hotel. He could see if you've finished your crash course in PR, and then they could make up for the missed date. They could take a long, nice walk and then spend some time alone together. It would be nice to spend time with you. He longs for your closeness the way the flowers in the monastery garden long for the sun. Yes, he could turn around now, step back into your light, and enjoy your warmth. That would be nice. He'd love that.

But he doesn't. Instead, he opens the door and disappears into the dark hallway behind it without hesitating further. Blackness swallows the Ravager completely, and the door closes behind him with a dull creak.

 

 

---

 

 

"I can't do this anymore." You slump down in your chair with an exhausted groan and push the stack of papers away from you. There are too many faces and names to remember, too many things you need to know about strangers. Your head is filled with dos and don'ts and topics of conversation for meals and meetings with politicians.


Learning how to behave at official functions is truly your own personal hell.


"Toughen up, love." Colette closes one of her many folders filled with notes and information she's collected about politicians and their campaigns. "Come on, isn't this a nice change from hanging around in a dusty old monastery?"

"Hey!" you reply sharply, giving her an angry look. "The monastery is my home. Don't be mean."

Colette waves you off. "Yeah, yeah. I get it,” she says, finishing her third cup of coffee in the last hour. Good God, this woman must have caffeine running through her veins. "Nevertheless, your reputation is a disaster right now. No one cares about a few monks on a mountain in the middle of nowhere." She shakes her head. "Shame that woman and her baby moved away. Would've been a great headline for the press."

"Seriosuly, how did you even end up at the UN Commission on Omnic-Human Relations if you say things like that?" you ask, a little offended. Colette doesn't answer, but that's answer enough. You straighten up a little, and a dull pain shoots through your lower back. Sitting all day is unhealthy, and since you're on your feet most of the day, your body isn't forgiving you for it. On top of that, the hotel beds are ridiculously soft. After this weekend, you'll have tensed muscles for weeks, that's for sure.

And then there's the thing with Ramattra, another reason to be stressed out.

You were looking forward to taking a trip with him. Every second you spend with him makes your life a little bit better and less... exhausting. Even when he's annoying, doing everything he can to drive you crazy - or if he's just plain rude in his very special Ramattra-way - everything is somehow better with him. Who would have thought that such strong feelings would be inspired by an introverted and complicated Ravager? If someone had told you that a few months ago, you would have laughed or called them crazy. And now you're the crazy one for being in love with that mean Omnic. 

But today, he was behaving so weird. When you canceled your date with him because of your politics and PR tutoring session, he seemed eager to spend the day alone and, to be completely honest, it hurt a little that he so readily dismissed your time together. Is he upset because you dragged him along on this trip? Most likely, but that's not the reason for his withdrawal. It's something else, you just know it.

Your hand wanders absentmindedly to your throat and rests on the soft skin there. The faint memory of strong Omnic hands squeezing your throat is still there; so is the burning sensation in your throat, the feeling that your head is about to explode, and the lingering panic. These have been your constant companions since the incident, as has the sound of Ramattra's voice when you forced him to reveal his innermost sins. He sounded hurt in a way you've never thought possible.

A violent wave of shame creeps across your forehead, settling on your cheeks and the tips of your ears. It wasn't right to force him to do that, to make him tell you about killing one of his own. But you can't change the past, so you clear your throat quietly and look back at the papers in front of you. There's no point in crying over spilled milk. With time, everything will be back to normal.

Hopefully.

 

A few hours later, Colette releases you from her clutches, and you finally feel like you can breathe again. Your head is still spinning with names to learn and faces to match. You don't want to embarrass yourself at the UN gala on Friday evening by confusing important politicians or addressing them by the wrong name — thereby dragging the Shambali's reputation further through the mud. 

The hotel is embarrassingly pompous. When you're used to a modest life in the mountains of Nepal, you notice how absurd many of these luxurious room amenities are. But damn, the hot showers are a dream come true! Usually, you wash with a rag and a bowl of soapy water in your room, but here, you have a huge shower with toiletries provided by the hotel. After some trial and error with the taps, you find the perfect temperature and once the water is just right, you step under the spray and feel absolutely heavenly. The steady stream of water runs down your body, washing away the exhausting journey and the uneasy feeling that you and the Ravager are in the middle of an argument.

Are you... fighting? It's hard to tell with a partner like the big Omnic who refuses to talk about his feelings most of the time. One could be in the middle of a divorce with him and not realize it until they're standing outside with their bags packed and the locks changed.

Simply asking does not provide certainty, either. Your arguments are usually loud and obvious, full of accusations and 'I'm right!' statements, but this feels different. It's quiet and insidious but twice as dangerous, with the potential to cause a lot of damage. Shit.


The provided towel feels as soft as lamb's wool. In comparison, your monk's robe is scratchy and uncomfortable. The towel clings to your body, whispering the temptation to spend the rest of the day wrapped up in it, lying on the bed and maybe watch some bad show on the TV. Thank goodness your stay at the hotel is short - you might get used to such extravagances and end up missing them when you're back home. 

You glance at the huge wall clock, which is probably worth more than all your possessions combined, and realize it's almost 10 p.m. After the long study session with Colette, the day quickly turned into evening and after a snack and shower, it's now getting late. You're starting to feel uneasy. Ramattra should be back from his walk by now, shouldn't he? Did he decide to stay in tonight and ignore you as a punishment for this whole situation, or is he perhaps just meditating?

After changing back into the scratchy Shambali robe, you close the door behind you and go to the room one door to the right. You knock on the door to see what the Ravager is up to and, above all, to check if everything is okay between the two of you. After all, he might just have been in a bad mood today from the long trip. But before you can knock, the elevator beeps softly, and the Ravager you're looking for steps out.

"Ramattra!" you exclaim happily. "There you are!" Then, with a slight frown, you ask, "Have you been out for a walk this whole time?"

"I have," he confirms. It's immediately obvious that his mood hasn't improved: His voice sounds strained and tired. Omnics get tired differently than humans do. Not physically, but when they function for too long without rest, their processors can overheat, get lost in unnecessary subroutines, or entire processes can crash and have to be restarted. This particular Omnic specimen looks downright exhausted.

"Is everything okay?" you ask reflexively when you notice the heaviness in his hydraulics.

"Of course," he replies, opening the door to his room with the keycard. "Sorry I'm back so late. It was a really long walk, but no need to worry."

"It's okay," you assure him, following him into his room. As soon as the door closes, the room is instantly filled with thick tension. Something is wrong. "Hey, I'm sorry I stood you up today—"

"It's no big deal," he assures you immediately, starting to move the table and chairs against the wall. You watch him curiously and quickly realize what he has in mind, so you start to help by pushing the half-dozen pillows off the super-soft bed and grabbing two sheets and a duvet. The mattresses are too soft for an Omnic or someone like you, so the only chance to avoid back pain - or stiff hydraulics -  is to spread a sheet on the empty floor and fold the duvet to make a makeshift thin mat. Add a sheet as a blanket and - voilà! You have a bed that doesn't make you feel like you're sleeping on a damn cloud.

"You shouldn't sleep with me." Ramattra sits cross-legged on the sheet and folds his hands in his lap. huh. Apparently he experienced so many new impressions on his walk that he needs to meditate on them. "We've already discussed this."

"Yeah, right," you sneer as you grab the digital alarm clock from the nightstand and set it so you won't miss any of your important appointments tomorrow. Colette would tear your head off if you overslept. "You just decided that we couldn't sleep together anymore. I protested, remember?"

He sighs. "You did. Loud and clear.”

"Exactly. Good talk." You give a silent command, and the gesture-controlled light in the room goes out. With a soft sigh, you snuggle into the makeshift bed. It's almost like home, except it doesn't smell like spices and food; it smells like artificial fabric softener with a faint undertone of cleaning products. A wave of homesickness washes over you, and your heart aches. Home is so much nicer than this foreign country filled with strangers. Alone, it would probably be even worse.

The soft hum under the Ravager's chassis is the only thing in this room that truly feels like home. 

"I'm glad you're here with me," you say, watching the red lights on Ramattra's faceplate move slightly in the darkness. The only sources of light are the Ravager and the soft moonlight filtering through the thin curtains. There's just enough light to make out his silhouette, unmoving like a statue.

"You didn't give me much choice," he replies bitterly but then seems to think better of it. "But yes, I agree. It's better that I'm here with you." There's a strange undertone in his voice that you can't quite place, but you're too exhausted from the day to press the issue. Instead, you yawn and gently rub against the Ravager's forearm to wish him goodnight. The metal is smooth under your fingers and feels as familiar as the back of your own hand. 

Huh - how strange. Already half-asleep, you notice a deep, angular notch in the Ravager's arm alloy.

That wasn't there a few hours ago.

 

Chapter 45: It's only down from here

 

It's dark.

The passageway that opens up behind the door in the side alley is clearly part of an even older building, dating back to before the Omnic Crisis. Back then, it was considered practical and stylish to build deep basements out of concrete and steel. However, even those could not withstand the attacks of the Titans when the Crisis hit, so today, only a few intact basement vaults remain. Most have been buried or blocked off due to the risk of collapse, yet this corridor remains accessible.

The Ravager pauses on the landing and scans the surroundings. His optical sensors are virtually useless in this environment, but his proximity sensors provide a clear view of the narrow passageway extending in front of him in the form of a shallow staircase. This path leads to an underground area not unlike subway stations in large cities. In such a large city, it's not surprising that remnants of outdated transportation methods and destroyed bunker systems run like veins through the modernized underground. However, it is surprising that everything here is in acceptable condition. Someone must be ensuring that these old stairs and corridors don't completely crumble to dust. Probably the very Omnics who left the signs on the walls behind.

These signs in Omnic language provide clues to follow a path not meant for humans. A refuge perhaps?


Ramattra proceeds cautiously, setting the sensors and their subroutines to maximum sensitivity. The sound of his footsteps bounces off the walls, echoes racing ahead and returning to him. Thanks to the highly sensitive sensors under his faceplate, Ramattra notices that the corridor ahead is long and narrow and that there's another door at the end.

When he reaches the door, he senses that caution is advised. Ravagers have special sensors that enable them to efficiently react to approaching dangers in combat and when he deliberately uses these sensors and their associated subroutines, he knows that someone is behind the door.


Omnics.


He can feel their energy sources with his sophisticated systems even through the heavy door. The barely audible hum of their internal energy sources connects them all, every Omnic that has ever been built. Like a gentle vibration, a heartbeat uniting all the children of Aurora.

Ramattra hesitates. Omnics? Down here? Probably outcasts. In such a hostile city, it's not surprising that unwanted bots are driven underground. Still, caution is advised.

He carefully runs his hand over the niche where the door meets the wall. Rust-eaten paint splinters off under his gentle touch and trickles to the floor. 

This access point appears to be just one of many entrances to a larger system of shafts and old cellars - a labyrinth of seemingly endless branches in the bowels of Lyon. Many large cities were simply built on top of the rubble left behind after the Crisis, so such catacombs can be found in almost every major country in the world. These catacombs serve as refuges for the poor and outcast, the unwanted souls and those who prefer to walk in the shadows. Ramattra has always wondered how many of his kind have found refuge in such underground passages, but then he's painfully reminded of how few Ravagers are left, and he must force these thoughts out of his mind.

Maybe this is a chance? Perhaps here he can find more Omnics who want a better life and are considering traveling to Nepal?

Is life in the monastery really that much better though? Is hiding away in an old stone temple better than hiding here?


His curiosity burns strong. He puts his hand on the door and pushes it open. The metal groans and the hinges squeak as he moves it. Reddish rust devours everything down here, turning all metal into dust.

As he opens this door, he's not greeted by darkness, but by a dim twilight that must come from a small light source. But before Ramattra can take a closer look at the room, however, something moves in his field of vision. Reflexively, he raises his arm to defend himself. Instantly, sparks fly as something sharp cuts into the alloy of his forearm. His system sends an unpleasant number of warnings through his processor, slowing him down for the fraction of a second. The sound of metal grinding against metal tells him that the attacker has pulled the weapon out of the alloy and is raising it again to strike.

Ramattra's combat systems are buried deep under layers of everyday subroutines; he simply hasn't used them often enough during his time with the Shambali. Yet this is exactly what his model is designed for: fighting. Anubis placed violence at the core of his being, in his deep code. In just one second, the hydraulics subroutines kick in, enabling quick, fluid movements and precise power exertion without damaging his own hardware. Assuming a fighting stance comes as naturally to Ramattra as breathing does to humans, and his processor sings as his systems shift from passive to active.

Among his own kind and the gentle humans in this refuge, Ramattra has never needed to defend himself against a weapon - except for the occasional practice fights with Mondatta, which were more like some kind of advanced meditation. However, at this moment, Ramattra is grateful that Mondatta believes in the benefits of occasional friendly sparring for the body and mind. It has kept the Ravager's sharp senses from rusting.

As he learned from his master, Ramattra responds with evasiveness and agility rather than brute force. He dodges the next blow and goes for his attacker. He grabs a wrist that is thinner than expected and made of a light alloy: With a single, skillful twist, he makes the stranger drop his weapon and something heavy clatters to the floor. Upon closer inspection, Ramattra realizes it's a machete. What a lowly, outdated instrument of violence, unworthy of an Omnic. But, as Ramattra grabs his attacker by the collar and pulls him into the dim twilight, he realizes that this puny, pitiful representative of his kind could probably find nothing else.

A narrow Omnic looks up at Ramattra from brightly glowing optics, hands raised in silent surrender. A tremor runs through his hydraulics, as if he can hardly pull himself together out of sheer fear. It's a tiny service Omnic, dressed in tattered rags and with severe damage to his chassis. Now, without the rusty machete, he seems a whole head shorter than before. Or, at least, much less courageous; the small body stiffens in the Ravager's firm grip.

Ramattra eyes him from head to toe, feeling... disappointed. The battle systems of times past scratch greedily at his processor, demanding release from this cage of meditation and inner balance. However, attacking a small Omnic who has obviously acted out of fear will not satisfy this need.


"Let him go."

A sharp, metallic voice comes from the shadows of this warehouse-like room with metal walls and water dripping from the ceiling. Ramattra does not release the small Omnic, but turns his head toward the voice and increases the sensitivity of his optical and auditory sensors. Another Omnic sits on one of the crates, hidden in the shadow of a half-collapsed section of the ceiling. Only the soft glow of its red optics shimmers in the darkness, illuminated by nothing more than a small fire in an old oil drum and a flickering electric lantern on the floor near a makeshift bed.

"He attacked me first," Ramattra replies coolly, scanning for electronic signs of life. Another Omnic is further back in the room. Three against one. Well, two and a half against one. The trembling service Omnic can hardly be counted as a fighter.

"You entered our home uninvited," the shadow replies. The voice doesn't sound frightened or angry. It's the voice of an Omnic who is fully aware of the situation and his opponent. He seems to be neutral and cool, just as the monk himself assesses most situations. That alone is a clear sign to be cautious.

"I followed the signs." Ramattra doesn't let go of the small Omnic, who doesn't dare move. "On the walls."

"Ah. I told Newt to stop painting those." The shadow moves and jumps down from the crate it has been sitting on. In the dim light, a tall, slender Omnic appears: His dark gray chassis is mostly covered by a tattered parka whose hood half-conceals his faceplate. Even through the shadows, Ramattra can see the three optical sensors: two for scanning the environment and one in the center of the forehead for long-range detection. The shadow's movements are quiet and nimble, slow and carefully calculated.


An Eradicator. They're part of Anubis' Sniper Elite and as dangerous as a Ravager - though less strong. However, these Omnics are much more agile and precise. And extremely deadly. 


"Let him go," the strange Omnic repeats, shuffling toward the Ravager with a nonchalant air that makes it clear he isn't afraid of Ramattra. He stops a few meters in front of him and emits a low hum. "Please."

Ramattra pauses for a moment, then releases his hydraulics and lets go of the small Omnic's collar. The shaky one falls to the ground, tugs at his tattered sweater, and then scrambles to his feet and disappears behind a large metal box. From there, he watches the situation unfold.

The Eradicator nods contentedly, then does a little bow. "Essix." E-6. So he's a Prime Eradicator. One of the first elite units Anubis sent out to take out specific political and military targets. This Omnic is older and more experienced than the Ravager, and he's a serious threat. What is a military relic like him doing in Lyon's underground?

"It's been a long time since I've seen a Ravager." Essix leans back slightly and eyes Ramattra with interest. "There aren't many of you left."

"Likewise. I was under the impression that you had all been eliminated after the Crisis was officially declared over."

The Eradicator makes an affirmative sound in his voice box. "Yes, the United Nations paved the way for my model to be eradicated. Just like yours.”

Ramattra shakes his head. "The Ravagers were classified as touched by Aurora and thus acquitted."

"Well, the humans still hunted you, acquitted or not." Essix pulls his hand out of his parka to drag his thumb across the thin metal neck, imitating the act of slicing a throat. His hands are narrow, and his fingers are long. They're built by Anubis with absolutely reliable, smooth, fine hydraulics. Perfect for pulling a trigger. "I've seen many Ravager bodies torn apart underground, then melted down or processed." His red optics glow a little darker. "Have you ever met another Ravager since the Crisis?"

“No.”

"Ah, I see. Not even in your pretty little temple in Nepal? I thought that's where outcasts like us would find refuge. Holding hands with humans and all that.”

"You ask a lot of questions, even though you already know the answers." Ramattra is beginning to lose his patience. Essix obviously has a hidden motive for being so curious - that's why he's being so friendly and making a point of not being perceived as an enemy. This is just another warning sign that Essix is aware of the threat and power of a Ravager. Speed and agility mean nothing compared to raw power in such a confined space.

“Indeed.” Essix steps closer. He sounds amused and almost proud that the Ravager has seen through his behavior so easily. "Alright, let's get to the point then. I know who you are. You're a Ravager monk who has been invited to the current UN assembly." He tilts his head slightly to the side, giving his faceplate an almost questioning expression. "What is your name?"

"Ramattra."

"Ramattra," the Eradicator echoes, letting the name roll off his non-existent tongue. "Not bad. Did you give it to yourself?"

"Everything I am, I owe to myself." Well, that's not entirely true. The Ravager owes a lot to Mondatta and Zenyatta — and to you, too. Perhaps most of all to you, since you freed him from the chains of his programming. It's strange because right now, you feel worlds away, even though you're just a few streets away in a hotel. You're far, far away from these Omnics and their little camp; from the trembling service Omnic behind the crate, and from this highly dangerous Omnic remnant of a violent time in history.

"You know, I've always liked Ravagers," Essix continues, unconcerned and ignoring the slightly hostile tone of his interlocutor. "They're big. Strong. Very stubborn.”

"I'll be going now." Ramattra moves back toward the door, which is still only ajar. Listening to a relic like Essix rave about the Crisis is a waste of time. A long round of meditation would be a much more appropriate use of his time, especially since there's enough activity in his processor that he could spend a whole week in silent meditation and still have things to think about.

"Wait! Wait." Essix lunges forward, demonstrating his speed, and slams the door shut. Instantly, a series of soft clicks echo through Ramattra's body as his hydraulics release the protective anchors and prepare to escalate the situation physically. He didn't give the order to do this though - no, his system decided on its own that this Eradicator is a serious threat and acted accordingly. This frail, tall Omnic in front of him radiates such dangerous energy that his instincts, if you can call them that, prepare him to fight for his life.

"Hey, come on." Essix's voice is soft and dark, deliberately passive and ingratiating. Calculating. "We're all friends here."

"We're not," Ramattra replies, preparing to push him aside if necessary.

"Well, too bad. Because apparently, you prefer to befriend humans over your own kind these days.” The Eradicator's red light under his hood grows a little brighter. "The very same humans who want to wipe out your model series and mine."

"Your attempt to provoke me is a waste of time." With that, Ramattra pushes the Eradicator aside. He lets him do so, but not without wrapping his long fingers around Ramattra's armored arm and staring at him piercingly. Red lights illuminate each other's face plates, revealing two sides of the same coin tossed by Anubis many years ago.

"You know very well that this circus up there isn't in our favor," Essix hisses. "These politicians want to talk about and decide what happens to us, and they're pulling Omnics off the streets and melting them down in the same breath! Countless members of our kind are disappearing here in Europe, and no one is doing anything about it!”

Ramattra pauses with his hand on the door handle. Aria. She disappeared when she went to visit her friend. One day she was there, and the next day she was gone. No one knows what happened to her. She was an Omnic, small and with only one working arm - an easy target. When things like this happen here, they will soon happen all over the world.

It makes the him angry. He's angry that these terrible things are happening to his kind. It makes him angry that he can't go for a walk without being demonized. It also makes him angry that Essix's words strike a chord with him and that he agrees.

"If you're ready to listen to me, come back tomorrow." With those words, Essix lets him go. He takes a step back and raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "If you really want to make a difference, Ramattra, you'll have to take a new path. For your brothers and sisters who need your strength."



* * *



And now? 

Now he's lying here, on the floor of the hotel room, with a human in his arms. You nestle up to him in your sleep, fitting perfectly into the shape of his metal body. Your skin feels incredibly warm, almost hot, against his alloy sensors, confirming that all of this is real.

The encounter with Essix earlier in the day now seems surreal and strange. It's like a fleeting dream that he can't quite grasp once he's coming out of sleep mode.


If you really want to make a difference, Ramattra, you'll have to take a new path.


Something in those words resonates deeply within him, refusing to leave his system and lingering hot in his processor.

He already knows that this UN conference is obviously more about PR than solving problems. You know it, too, yet all you can do is to beg the rich and powerful to donate to the Shambali, so the monastery can continue taking humans in. It's infuriating that you have to beg just to be with him and the other Omnic monks!

A cold, seething rage begins to tip the delicate balance that has been wavering within him for some time. The Crisis, that both gave him his purpose as a weapon and took it away, had always paralyzed him with a certain aimlessness and kept him in the monastery. Mondatta preaches peace and pacifism, but is that realistic? The more Ramattra ventures into the human world, the more this foundation of faith begins to crumble. He has seen his brothers and sisters harmed or killed too many times for the peaceful path to seem viable. Essix seems to have a different approach, one that involves using tools Mondatta strictly rejects.

And he's so tired, tired of hoping that things will change on their own.


But then... there's you. Having you by his side fills him with both fear and joy. The fear of hurting you again, even unintentionally, always hangs over his head like a guillotine. Yet, when you lie next to him, fast asleep, warm, and soft, he loses himself in a moment of absolute bliss. Ultimately, you're probably the only thing holding him in this reality. Someone as exhausting as you shouldn't have such power over him or such an unshakeable belief that he's fundamentally good.

By the Iris, where does this steadfast knowledge in your head come from, the absolute certainty that he has a good heart?

Ramattra turns from his back onto his side so he can look at you better. He notices the slight wrinkles around your eyes that only smooth out when you splash cold water on your face in the morning. The strands of hair that stray in all directions when you're lying comfortably. Oh, and your scent! Even though you're no longer in the monastery, you still smell like the tiny kitchen, like spices and tea. He loves getting lost in this unique scent, letting his thoughts wander, and wishing with all his heart that you could stay like this forever. 

But whenever he attempts to sink into your very being, you bustle off to do something in the kitchen and turn your back on him. He wants to reach out to you, hold you tight, and only let go when he has gotten his fill of your closeness, which will probably never happen.


The Ravager can't control himself. His system is drowning in pure affection, completely overwhelmed by the force of these intense emotional subroutines. Gently, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. He buries his face in your tousled hair, ignoring the soft murmurs coming from your throat.

Just one minute. He just wants to sink into this feeling for one minute, to lose himself in the fantasy that the two of you have forever. A human and a Ravager, united by a love that surpasses all imagination. He doesn't deserve it - no, absolutely not - but he wants it so badly.


Just one minute. Let me disappear into you for just one minute. And the minute after that, and the one after. Until time grinds me to dust.


"Hm? What's going on?" You mumble sleepily against his chest chassis. Ah, damn. He now has to accept that he woke you up in his moment of weakness. "Are you okay?"

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, pressing his cold faceplate against your sleepy face. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's fine,” you promise softly, pressing yourself closer to his chest, which causes his processor to falter again. “We can talk if you don't want to sleep.”

“No. There's a lot to do tomorrow.”

You hum. “Doesn't matter. You're more important.”

Oh, by Aurora's grace, your words almost crash his system. No matter how much he hates humans, you're the one exception. You're the lifeline that binds him to his current path of peace and good; the one thing that smothers the flames of anger that are threatening to consume him entirely. 


You're... everything.

 

 

Chapter 46: Nothing is holy for the clouded eye

Summary:

wow, happy 100k to this fanfic. Man, can you imagine that I wanted this to be a short 7-10k oneshot?? (I am physically unable to write anything else than pwp or slow burn)

The night is so deep and heavy that, under different circumstances, you'd be more than happy to sleep soundly. Though the fact that the city outside the hotel windows is still bustling at this late hour nags at you constantly. Lyon is a place that never seems to sleep - just like you - but that's more because the circumstances in this room are unusual, too. In the dark, things happen that, in daylight, are little more than distorted shadows and vague assumptions you make about yourself. 

Lying on the floor because the mattresses in this hotel are far too soft, you lie on your back and stare at the elaborately decorated stucco ceiling. The pomp and expensive furniture make it clear that there are whole worlds between your life and that of everyone else. It's easy to feel insignificant when you stare at gold-decorated ceilings and eat dinner that hasn't been cooked by you, served on dishes that, if sold, would feed the entire community of the Shambali monks for weeks. On top of that, the food is made from fancy and unnecessary ingredients. Who needs sea foam sorbet when you could have a hearty soup?

But if you ignore the posh surroundings, the night-time noises of the city and the annoying people living in this hotel, it's actually quite bearable here. It's not as cold as it is high up in the mountains of Nepal, and there's far less or no wind creeping through the cracks of an old building. However, the walls and ceilings here are so high and bare that you feel somehow... lost. The wallpaper is patterned and distracting; not the smooth stone walls that feel as if they grew out of the mountain itself. There's no embrace of nature, which is so good for the soul and spirit.

Everything here is so different.


Even the Ravager is different.

Ramattra is lying next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his faceplate nestled in the warm crook of your neck - to your utter surprise. The Omnic rarely initiates physical intimacy on his own, but tonight he's practically snuggling up to you like never before. His heavy, metallic body seeks the warmth of the soft skin next to him, searching for an anchor to save him from sinking into a dark ocean. The barely audible hum of his inner workings is like the gentle purr of a tiger that has settled down to rest instead of attacking its prey. The hands, designed to pull triggers, are now clasped together, holding you in a tight embrace.

If he were to breathe, Ramattra's breath would dance hot across your neck, but instead it's the soft whisper of his vents that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. At this proximity, it's easy to surrender completely to the rhythm of his mechanical pulse and the humming and whirring of the machinery beneath his chassis. A life as real as yours - mechanical and organic. The boundaries began to blur long ago. It's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends; your lives are so intertwined now.

A deep breath brings with it the strangely familiar scent of the Ravager. Ramattra smells of metal and silicone, but also of warm air and dust from the archives. Along with the tart scent of monk's robes, this is something unique to him. Even Omnics have a subtle yet distinct smell of their own - at least, that's what you like to tell yourself. You recognise Ramattra by the fine details: every tiny scratch in his alloy, or the way he tilts his head slightly when interested in something. Place a thousand R-7000 models side by side and you would find him immediately, without hesitation or error, right?

Your fingers gently move through the tangle of cables that make up his thick, black hair. Each strand of hair is smooth and familiar to your touch, sliding easily between your fingers. As you work your way through his thick mane, you find an indentation in his neck bearing the serial number he was given in the Omnium all those years ago. You can't quite make out the numbers, but you're sure they include the digits 4 and 7. Would he be offended if you asked him for his serial number? After all, it's highly sensitive information, and he's very careful to keep such things to himself.

Every time you adjust your position, the iron grip around your waist tightens slightly. The hydraulics of Ramattra's body hiss so quietly that you can barely hear them over your own breathing; such a massive, powerful body - yet so detailed and perfectly functioning. He's such a large Omnic, yet he's fragile when he allows himself to be.

He'd probably appear quite different, even with his broad shoulders and large stature, if he weren't always in such a bad mood. It's amusing to think what would happen if he and Zenyatta swapped bodies for a day. A friendly, gentle disposition in the black-and-purple chassis would be entertaining, as would a completely stiff and restrained posture in the smaller Omnic whose model was designed for service work. However, it's clear that a little good humour and playfulness would do Ramattra good. Always so serious, so unapproachable.


The Ravager presses further into your body, searching for something that's more intimate than just body heat. Whether he's looking for reassurance or absolution, only he knows. But you can't give it to him, no matter how much you might want to. His grip around your waist is tighter than usual though, and a queasy feeling seeps from a fleeting idea into your stomach, where it tangles into a black ball.

He's acting different tonight.

"Tell me something," you say, trying to suppress the dull ache of longing and inexplicable sadness in your chest. The reality is cruel yet ever-present: things are happening between you, things that can't be stopped. Things that have always been there, but are only now showing their ugly face. They were triggered by what happened between you back then, in the darkness. This relationship is an endless cycle of highs and lows, attraction and repulsion. Like magnets that attract and repel each other. "Anything."

The Ravager doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he sends a powerful blast of air through his fans, and his right hand slides into the waistband of your underwear. The fabric lifts as his mechanical fingers slowly creep underneath. It's not a question or a request; it's a search for intimacy and closeness that the stoic Omnic is allowing himself as an absolute exception today. He rushes forward, taking control that he would otherwise leave to you. What happened during his walk today to make him behave this way?

"I don't know what to say," he finally replies, pressing his faceplate so tightly against your neck that you can feel the gentle hum of his mechanics.

"Then tell me something about yourself."

"You already know everything." His answer is prompt and sharp, clearly hinting that you've squeezed every last drop out of him. In that fateful night, his hands were around your neck, and your razor-sharp words were at his throat. Mutual destruction at any cost, and yet you two cling to what's between you.



Is it love?



Can an Omnic, a Ravager, love? And, more importantly, can you?

 

He receives no response, snappy or not, to these words. Outside, you can hear the faint sound of cars passing by and people arriving late to the UN conference. Muffled voices seep through door, and footsteps on the expensive red carpet outside your room hurry away. In Lyon, there are no wind chimes swaying gently in the breeze and whispering soft songs as they dance. Here, there's only the cold, hard reality that you have hurt each other deeply and don't know how to deal with it.

"You tell me something," he then demands, his hand sliding further into the fabric of your underwear. His cool, metallic fingertips move purposefully over your soft skin, searching and finding, eliciting a shallow gasp from you. By now, he knows the spots that make your body heat up and tremble with desire, inside and out. Good for you both, but tonight he's after something other than pure lust. His intention for revenge and control is practically oozing out of him. "I know barely anything about you. The real you."

You swallow heavily and shake your head, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead, until the Ravager sits up slightly and captures both your wrists in his large hand. His grip is like iron: cold and unyielding. He pins your hands above your head, trapping them to the floor where they are useless.

"You know enough," you reply weakly, exhaling deeply as his palm barely perceptibly rubs over your sex. That bastard. "Everything else is boring."

"You don't get to decide what I find boring," he says, tilting his head slightly downwards. The black strands of his hair fall forward like a curtain, framing your faces in darkness and desire. Again, his hand moves against your lower body, eliciting a dry gasp. "Tell me something about yourself."

Red. There is so much red above you, below you and around you. Red light fixes you with a hunger for power unlike anything you've seen in Ramattra before. Like a greedy predator, he leans further over you, immobilising you with a firm grip while caressing you exquisitely. His fingers slowly work their way forward, deliberately avoiding your entrance as they stroke invisible lines between your legs. Teasing, challenging and tormenting - but so good.

"I grew up on the streets, like many others." Your answer is forced, coated with a hint of defiance and frustration. He's acting strangely; Ramattra is always a little strange, but tonight he's like a different person entirely: He first seeks closeness, then suddenly turns oppressive and craves control. He's desperately searching for something.

"Irrelevant. I already knew that." His hand in your underwear pulls back slightly, causing your pelvis to lift up immediately, silently begging for the touch to continue. You can just about prevent a dissatisfied sound from leaving your throat by biting your lip, because the Omnic's fingers feel nothing short of divine every time. He's a quick learner, as he has proven time and time again, even with such organic pleasures.

"What do you want to know, then?!" you snap, exhaling deeply in an attempt to rid yourself of the frustration building up over his stupid behaviour. "If you want to know something, just ask!"

Now, a deep, almost growling sound emanates from the Ravager's chassis. It's similar to a rough purr, except it's not coming from an impatient cat, but from a large robot that clearly enjoys tormenting you tonight. He absorbs this unspeakable frustration and enjoys it, tilting his head slightly as the ends of his cable-like hair click softly together. With a hiss of hydraulics, he leans down so close that your faces are almost touching.

"Tell me something and I'll let you know if I'm interested."


That damn son of a-!


Fine. If he wants to play, you'll play along. "Master Mondatta saved my life," you say tersely. "He took me off the streets and gave me a home."

The hand retreats further. "I know that. He did the same for me."

"Ugh, then-" you think, trying feverishly to come up with something interesting, but nothing comes to mind. Life in the monastery isn't exciting, and life on the streets was no different to that of thousands of others. "I did terrible things to survive!"

The hand then leaves the sweet spot between your legs entirely, and you groan - a deep, frustrated rumble, full of greed for more. You want more touch, more satisfaction to quench the hunger burning hot in your lower body and making the muscles in your thighs tremble.

"You're not the only one," the Omnic replies coolly. The grip on your wrists tightens slightly as the throbbing between your legs becomes more uncomfortable. Fuck!! 

"I-" You can't find the words to express what you really want to say. He's a real bastard for leaving you hanging like this! It's wrong to demand private information by refusing to satisfy your urges, he knows that - and yet, you've never been more aroused in your entire life.

Ramattra exudes a dark calm as you writhe beneath him, trying to create just a little more friction. The feeling of his fingers on your skin - or, even better, inside your body - is always exquisite: so careful and skilful, so eager to explore every pleasure point more deeply. He's a perfectionist, and while that can be annoying at times, it definitely has its advantages - especially when it comes to bringing you closer to an incredible orgasm.

Unfortunately, however, he's also someone who, once he has set his mind on something, sees it through. No matter how you look at it, you don't have as much to counter him with right now as you usually do. Being stubborn doesn't help when you're being held captive and teased by mechanical hands. Even the fiercest temperament is extinguished in the face of such an unshakable will as that of your tormentor and lover.

"There was a Ravager," you manage to say, diving into the cold memories of the day you lost everything. Red is everywhere: blood beneath and beside you, pieces of human bodies and building debris. Red above you in the form of an enemy Ravager raising his weapon. The air is filled with the smell of fire, dust, metal and death. Red light bathes everything, distorting this moment between suffering and longing.

"You've already told me about him."

"I killed him." The hand abruptly stops disappearing from your underwear. It waits for more. You swallow. "An Overwatch agent shot the Ravager and saved me, but as he pulled me from the rubble, the Ravager overpowered him."

His hand slides slowly and leisurely back between your legs. Ramattra's long, hard fingers trace the curves of your soft flesh until he finally touches your entrance with his fingertips, eliciting a sharp hiss from you. Holding your breath, you surrender to the sensation of metal on bare skin, of pure heat and desire that needs to be fulfilled urgently.

“Continue.” His voice is soft yet so, so overwhelming: It's a bottomless, erotic well from which you draw pleasure.

"They fought," you continue, and a soft curse disappears under your next deep, shaky breath. His hand gently rubs over your entrance, and the needy, pulling sensation in your lower body makes you rub your knees together.

“Who had the upper hand?”

"First, the Overwatch agent. He fought the Ravager with his bare hands because his pulse rifle had been knocked out of his hand."

As he sinks a finger into you as a reward for continuing the story, your chest rises and a wave of heat and relief floods your brain, enveloping every sense and dulling everything except the feelings of pure lust and naked rage towards this Omnic above you. This feels so good, so fucking good.

"Then the Ravager came to his senses and overpowered the guy. He threw him to the ground.”

A second finger slowly and patiently finds its way inside you, moving in a torturous yet pleasurable rhythm. Your hands clench into fists, wrists aching under Ramattra's firm grip, but your pelvis pushes energetically against his touch until you are finally riding his fingers completely. They slide deeper and deeper into you, guided by your movements, accompanied by longing sighs and gasps. He doesn't move his hand. He doesn't need to, since you're doing all the work by yourself, driven by pure greed. Being controlled by the Omnic is like having a hot, lustful hand digging into your brain and turning everything upside down; in this moment, nothing is more important than letting his fingers slide in and out of your body. Nothing else in the world matters. Feeling so full and stretched is absolute bliss.

“What happened then?”

You swallow hard. More. You need more, at any cost.

"Rama—"

"What happened then?" The dark, demanding emphasis in his voice adds fuel to the flames. He is so imperious, so demanding. So hot.

"The gun was not far from me." His hand joins your movements - only slightly, but enough to bring you closer to the silver lining on the horizon. Salvation comes in hot, rippling waves that draw your body and mind close to the Iris for a moment, a moment in which you would love to lose yourself completely in this sensation. "I grabbed it."

His fingers curl and stroke your walls, searching for the spot that makes you see stars. He's so close, yet he seems to be deliberately avoiding it. “And?”

"And I- ah, fuck-! I pulled the trigger!” you reply breathlessly, pushing hard against his touch, so hard that he has to push back against your pelvis to keep you on the ground. This nonchalant display of strength alone is far more erotic than he could ever imagine. It takes him no effort at all to push you back down. "The shot hit his - It hit his main processor I think!"

Ramattra makes an inaudible sound. "See? That wasn't so hard." Your faces are only a few inches apart and your hot, wet breath covers his faceplate like a veil. The red of his lights is reflected in your eyes, turning them red too. "Tell me one more thing: did you hate him?"

“Wha-?” It's so hard to concentrate, especially when he rubs his palm against your sex at a very specific angle - probably calculated down to the exact degree - with every movement of your body. It's as effective as possible, designed to achieve the best possible result. It works.

"The Ravager."

"No," you gasp breathlessly, shaking your head. Sweat tickles the nape of your neck and the bridge of your nose. Fuck! Has it always been this hot in here?! "No, I didn't."

"You're lying." A third finger pushes into you and stretches you so wide that you let out a sharp breath. His voice is colder than before, yet it still holds you captive with its absolute control. There's no way out except to surrender to him and to yourself, to the things that Ramattra knows about you - things that you don't want to know about yourself, things you've put aside because they're uncomfortable to think about. He squeezes them out of you through lust and control.

"I'm not lying!" His fingers move deeper and deeper inside you, caressing and scissoring, holding you hostage on the edge of release. Just enough so that the pleasure doesn't fade, but not enough for you to climax. It's torture.

"More lies." The friction of his metal against your sex is simultaneously heavenly and terrible, a constant battle between wanting more and wanting less. With absolutely diabolical sensitivity and sadism, he balances you on a knife's edge, until you can do nothing but breathe heavily, beg and pray his name over and over again, and finally turn to the one thing you have turned away from for so long.

"Shit! Yes, damn it!!" you finally choke out, full of rage and the blinding longing for relief from this now unbearable desire. "I hated him! 'f course I did! And I don't regret killing him!"

Ramattra's fingers thrust mercilessly into you, fast and deliberate, driving your body towards climax with violent speed. He's revelling in controlling you, watching you writhe and beg, and even plead, as if all this has been opening the door to something that would have been better left closed. Something dark seeps out of his processor, a thirst for power and strength; an absolution that no one can grant, but which he will take by force.

His grip on your wrists is tight and painful, but this is drowned out by the roaring in your ears as your impending orgasm blocks out everything else. With a cry, you finally reach the point he denied you until he got what he wanted: confirmation that you cannot eradicate all the darkness within you, despite the feelings that have crept in over time.


Wave after wave erases every clear thought; except for breathing and feeling, nothing else is possible because the climax is just too good, too deep and too long. It takes a few seconds for this feeling of pure, golden relief to begin to subside. The world is still as it was before, albeit a little less beautiful and cosy. His hands leave your wrists, and the dull pain lessens, even if it doesn't disappear completely.

"What the- What the hell is your problem?!" you then finally hiss. The sheet that serves as a blanket is made of wonderfully soft fabric and wraps around your body like a second skin, having a strangely calming effect. You pull the fabric around you with a jerk and stare at the ceiling with sparkling eyes that are still clouded with lust. Anger eats through the fading arousal, leaving a burning trail. "That was- damn it, Ramattra!"

"I... apologise," he replies quietly, lying down again on his side next to you, but not touching you. Suddenly, an invisible wall as high as the sky and impenetrable appears between you. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Or yes-- I don't know." Did he hurt you? Are you hurt? It's hard to say because bruised egos and hurt feelings usually take a while to manifest. You won't feel a sharp pain like you would with a broken bone; it's more like a quiet, hollow scratching that tells you something is wrong. You've had this feeling for a while, and now it's finally been confirmed. 

But something in your head tells you it's no big deal; he just wants to be dominant sometimes. He's testing the waters - his, yours and the relationship's. It's really no big deal. Surely, things will work themselves out between the two of you. Ramattra would never do anything seriously problematic or put you in danger.


Calm down. Everything will be fine.


"I didn't mean to upset you." The coldness and finality has gone from his voice, which is now gentle and soft again. "I just felt a little... adventurous today."

"Adventurous," you echo hollowly, feeling your fingers grip the sheet tighter. A sharp pang of anger blinds you for a moment, blotting out all other feelings except indignation and outrage. How dare he pressure you like that, making you admit that you have long held a deep grudge against Omnics - and Ravagers in particular? He has no right to do such a thing!

And yet that is exactly what you did to him. Back then, in the night when he had the nightmare and wasn't in control of his senses or his processor, you exerted unfair pressure out of fear and anger, forcing him to reveal his deepest, most innermost feelings. Without his consent, you invaded his mind and found his greatest pain, dragged it out and took it as bloody payment for the attack he had forced upon you.

You present yourself as someone who cares greatly about the Shambali community, boasting that you want everyone to be cared for and that everyone is doing well. But beneath this noble persona lies something dark, a beast with fangs, thirsting for blood and oil. This beast showed its ugly face during that night, when you attacked the Ravager back, with full fury and contempt, forcing him to lay his pain before you, ready for dissection.


You're a fucking hypocrite.


And now? Now you preach peace at this UN conference, yet you have committed an unforgivable act against Ramattra, driven by fear and prejudice. Now you know how it feels to be pressured into baring your very soul. The acrid feeling of betrayal and broken trust sinks heavily into your bones, holding you in place as you clutch the white sheets of the bed like a lifeline.

This was revenge.

Ramattra took revenge on you. Even if he may not have had entirely evil intentions, it was a cruel act of vengeance. Something has changed in him, and you are to blame for this evil. A significant factor in this situation is the butterfly effect resulting from the grudge you have always harboured against the eerily powerful Ravager, from the very beginning. Everything can be traced back to you hating Ramattra with a burning passion, just because he's a Ravager.

There's no question that he has always been an Omnic prone to anger. Beneath his dark chassis lies so much pain and betrayal, so much fear and longing for a good life! Though these feelings quickly become distorted into dark and violent ideals, into plans and ideas that forebode a terrible future. Loss and hatred are his shadows, which will probably follow him forever. Who are you to reinforce this? Who are you to judge him for these shadows that clearly cling to you as well?

And what if... What if your inability to distinguish between fear and anger has altered his fate for the worse? Losing control is your greatest fear, you both dread it like nothing else and it always seems so close. Those who don't hold their fate firmly in their hands risk losing it completely - but that's a misconception because those who cling too tightly to tomorrow miss out on today.

What if his strange behaviour is actually your fault? Oh, what an unforgivable act, to drag someone into the dark like that, whether intentionally or no. It would be an unbearable burden of guilt if Ramattra were to choose a path that leads into the shadows due to your emotionally unrestrained actions. And yet, beneath all the anger, fear, longing and frustration lies a desire to be loved by him. You want to love this Omnic with every fibre of your being, and you will do anything to make up for your mistakes! Even if he's a bastard and a fool who is consumed by anger and hatred, you would rather die than be angry with him forever!

It's too much. With a sudden, violent sob, the dam breaks and, much to the Ravager's surprise, you burst into tears.