Chapter Text
"Ready when you are."
He settled back in the chair, feeling the smooth texture under his skin, blunt nails digging uselessly as he resisted the urge to itch, conduction gel starting to drip from his hair under the device.
"Enver."
His eyes narrowed with fond annoyance. "Don't say it," he warned.
The other man chuckled from somewhere behind him. "You keep inviting me," he pointed out teasingly.
Enver grumbled lowly, a long pause as he wondered if the man would skip it this time. Maybe he should just tell them to do it now, before he had a chance to-
"...See you on the other side."
He sighed, closing his eyes against the light, before giving the order.
Light fractured the darkness as he opened his eyes blearily, moving down his vision like some jagged river. He slammed them shut again, as piercing pain ripped through his skull.
Why did it hurt this much? Whoever messed up the settings-
He forced his eyes open again, black silhouettes brightening to green — lush trees against a clear blue sky, sliding past as he was dragged along the ground.
It didn't hurt, something under him making a scraping sound as he was pulled. Groaning with effort, he rolled onto his shoulder, craning his head to look at who was pulling him, and finding the largest, furry backside he'd ever seen.
The animal's small tail flicked, pausing its lumbering to look back at him with its big, round face. It grunted, letting out a soft, hoarse roar as it rolled its head, and he let himself fall to his back, the movement resuming as consciousness escaped him once again.
"Come look at this."
"It looks… partially healed over. How long have they been out there?"
"It didn't look like this when I found them."
"You think they healed themself when they woke up?"
"...I don't know, but it got them this far."
"Are we still operating?"
"We need to bring down the swelling…"
"Easy," the man's soothing voice encouraged as he tried to sit up. "You had a lot of damage; I'm not sure how well it healed."
He looked over at the large elf, then past him, sun streaming in a broken roof. Plants reclaimed the deteriorated building, filling it with an almost foreign smell of rich dirt and greenery, but it looked lived in — cleared spaces with desk and chairs, lit by warm candlelight and cool, fluorescent lamps.
"Do you remember what happened?"
He turned his attention back to the man at his bedside. "There was…" His voice was rough. He tried to recall the memory, the context, some detail, but it eluded him. "...a procedure."
A woman scoffed harshly. "A gangster and a liar. What violence have you brought here?" she accused.
"Enough, Kagha," the man ordered, voice firm but not raised, as he reached over to pick something off the end table, and held out a warped little hunk of metal. "We dug this out of your head," he informed softly, voice laced with empathetic concern.
He reached out to take it, stopping short as he noticed his hand — red palms with white scales, and cruelly curved claws tipping each of his fingers.
The woman shifted, green skin turning a marbled white as her hair extended down her back. She tilted her head, levelling him with a considering look before huffing softly in an almost amused sigh. "If you really want to reinvent yourself, I've heard druids can change your form. You just have to make a round trip to death and back." Her solid white eyes made her smile unnerving, but something in him felt fond toward the younger woman, grinning back.
He tried to remember what came next, who she was… Everything felt just out of reach as he flexed his hand, digging claws into his palm just to feel himself. He reached out, finally taking the crushed bullet from the man and inspecting it.
Armour penetrating. Useful against helmets, and targets with plated skulls…
"...Do you remember your name?"
He looked up, closing the bullet in his fist as he recalled what little memory he had.
"Enver."
Karlach pressed herself against the crates as the door to the cargo hold slid open, edging around them as soft footsteps approached.
"Come on," a woman complained quietly, metal creaking and clacking as she struggled with something.
Karlach's brow furrowed at the familiar accent, peeking around her hiding spot.
That… was not a githyanki, and from how she was struggling to open the access panel, she wasn't supposed to be here, either.
Just… mind your own business. You're finally this close to home; the last thing you need is to draw attention and get you both thrown out an airlock.
The woman finally popped the access panel open, and Karlach tucked back behind cover as the half-elf attached something to it.
Long seconds ticked by with the woman remaining by the panel, and Karlach started to contemplate just announcing herself — stowaway to stowaway — so she'd be able to stretch her legs some time before they next docked.
She looked up as an alien announcement came over the speaker. It sounded terse (more terse than usual), and was quickly followed by footsteps thundering down the hall.
"Shit," the woman hissed as alarms and what sounded like an automated announcement played on repeat. Karlach dared to peek again as the panel door shut, only for the woman to be looking in her direction, freezing like a deer in headlights as she spotted the tiefling.
Karlach was quicker to react, jumping to her feet as the woman stared, precious seconds as her brain processed someone else being here — someone who wasn't gith. "Who are you?" she finally demanded — far too loudly for someone sneaking around.
"I should be asking you that," Karlach spat, much more mindful of her volume as she kept an eye on the door. "What in the Hells did you do?"
The woman pursed her lips, eyes flicking around as she considered the situation. "You'll find out soon enough…" she decided. "We're heading for the nearest crèche."
That… that wasn't possible. You couldn't just… leave quarantine. And it was the fucking opposite of getting home!
"You what?!" Karlach snarled, lunging at her and knocking them both to the ground.
"Agh, get off me! You're going to get us both killed." Karlach slammed into the shelf as the woman tried to fight her off — deceptively strong for her size.
"I'm not the one trying to break githyanki quarantine!"
The door slid open, both of them turning their heads to look through the shelf. When Karlach looked back down, the other woman's appearance had suddenly changed to a githyanki.
The crewmember rounded the corner, spitting something under her breath before calling for backup as she glared at Karlach.
The tiefling quickly backed off, releasing her opponent and raising her hands placatingly. "I know how this looks, but I didn't do it. She did something to the panel," she explained hastily.
The githyanki (the real one) flicked her eyes to the panel, pausing as she seemed to take in the damage to the cover.
More gith streamed in, having what looked like an argument as the crewmate pointed. Karlach was apprehended on sight, which she suppressed the instinct to fight. She couldn't fly this thing on her own — let alone when it was overridden; her only way out was to defuse the situation.
They took longer to decide what to do with the other woman, arguing back and forth, before speaking sharply to her in their language, only for her to stare back blankly.
The alarms suddenly stopped, the gith looking up with confusion, before the leader's face screwed up with even more concern and anger.
"What did you do, hshar'lak?" he demanded, motioning one of the others to open the panel and start inspecting it.
"Lady Shar will bring peace to your people. You have nothing to fear from her," she insisted.
You've got to be kidding… "I've heard of corporations being people, but 'Lady' Shar? That's taking it a bit far."
The leader looked between them, narrowing his eyes at the corpo. "Shut it down, and you'll live to face trial."
"I can't."
His jaw clenched, motioning for her to be restrained as well. "Then you'll die with the rest of us. Vlaakith will not tolerate an infected ship." He barked an order, and the pair of them were escorted out as he turned his attention to the tech trying to fix things.
Karlach strained, shouting at the woman. "You have to help them! We won't make it to a crèche!" she implored. Like hell she was going to be killed by some corpo's idiocy, after everything she'd survived.
As they were marched down the hall, there was a sudden beep before the air was sucked out of her lungs, slamming them into the wall. She grabbed onto a bar, looking around as the gith were pulled around a corner, their screams rapidly fading.
One by one, their grip slipped, sucking them out into space as the corpo pulled herself into a nearby room. Karlach's hold was strong, unhindered by sweat, and she carefully worked her way toward the room, grabbing the last githyanki barely holding on, and pulling them both inside.
Her lungs struggled for air, electric heart working overtime as she pressed herself against the wall and looked around. They were in the crew quarters, the door wide open and unresponsive to the gith's desperate attempts to close it. Piles of mattresses and bedding had slammed into the nearest bunks, and Karlach grabbed at them, shoving them across the doorway and hoping they were firm enough to not get pulled out. The three of them hastily packed the gaps, adding layers of bedding until the flow of air wasn't enough to hold up more.
The air inside was thin, Karlach and the corpo slumping to the ground as the gith woman crossed the room, looking out the broad window. The starry sky was dotted with debris and bodies that had flown out the nearby airlock. "We need to stop it. We won't survive unless the airlocks close, and life support repressurises the ship."
"Then we just need… to wait…" The woman's disguise fell away like pixels rolling down her body, as she closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the wall. "Lady Shar… will fix it… once no one's stopping her."
A faint alarm resonated in the wall, before a bevy of crates started rushing past the window.
The gith shouted, palm slamming against the window as her form tensed and shook. Karlach grabbed onto the bunk bed, trying to pull herself to her feet to go comfort her, when an explosion rattled the ship.
She felt herself flung and wedged into the bunk, smoke and fire trailing from the engine as they began spiralling out of control. Her engine whirred, growing more and more intense as it tried to circulate blood against the g-forces.
Too… too much. Can't…
With a guttural scream, a wave of energy exploded out of her, and everything went black.
"Look, Wyll — a 'shooting star'." The voice in his head was saccharine; never a good sign, but he pulled over, looking out before quickly lowering the window for a better look.
High in the distance, something large veered down through the sky, fire licking at its hull. "Take the wheel," he instructed hastily, switching over the RV's control as he got out of his seat.
"You'll have to go off-roading."
Wyll paused at the small armoury cabinet, digging through it for something that could help with the fire. "She can handle it, just get me past the densest trees."
As the smoking ship crashed into the trees, skidding along the ground, the RV shuddered, Wyll pulling to a halt and looking out. Three figures fell through the sky, unnaturally slowed — two falling upright near each other, while the third tumbled limply through the air.
He redirected toward them, RV carefully creeping forward until the forest was too full of fire and debris. He grabbed his equipment, hopping out and shooting frost at the fire to douse it as he quickly picked his way forward.
The ship had left a path of burning, toppled trees and chunks of itself in its wake, and he followed the sound of coughing through the smoke, coming up on the pair.
"Find the third."
"Where's the other one?" he shouted, carefully clearing a path through the fire.
If he hadn't recognised the style of ship, its nature was apparent now by the githyanki woman, as she grabbed the corpo's wrist and glared sternly at him. "I am Lae'zel of Crèche K'liir, and I am commandeering your vehicle." Her smoke-filled lungs rebelled against the shouted speech, sending her into a brief coughing fit, which the other interrupted.
"I think she fell over there," she answered urgently, pointing closer to the wreck. She tried to free her wrist from the githyanki's iron grip, but she'd already recovered.
"You will drive me and my prisoners to the nearest embassy to await trial," she rasped, pounding her chest before pulling her 'prisoner' toward the RV and away from the smoke.
He looked between the women, the RV in the distance, and then the direction he'd been pointed, before trudging a path further into the destruction.
When he finally spotted a body in it, he hastily put out the flames, grimacing at the patches of exposed flesh where blue skin had burned away. He didn't see signs of breathing — or any life — but it was hard to make out anything subtle in this smoke. "Vitals?"
"You'll need to jack in."
He pulled the cord from his wrist, tipping her head and gently trying to insert his personal link in the jack by her ear. "It's not going in. I think it's damaged." He let his cord retract, turning and coughing before looking over her more closely. The melting and damage at the edges of her skin looked like an artificial material. Her exposed flesh had held up better than he realised — benefits of tiefling biology. Although he hadn't thought they'd hit the ground hard, the broken edges of her horn looked jagged and unworn, suggesting possible recent head trauma.
Suddenly she gasped, still unconscious, but lungs heaving for air, and he stumbled back slightly.
"Looks like her cyberware rebooted," Mizora informed. "She'll need a ripperdoc for that jack, but for now, bring her back. There's a grove of druids nearby — you'll need them if she's going to survive the trip to the city."
Astarion admired the sun starting to set over the cliff, waves crashing against the rocks below, and leaves rustling behind him as he leaned against his car. Despite the scenery, the road was mostly abandoned, his sharp ears picking up the sound of an approaching vehicle. He straightened up and turned, watching the van approach as it cautiously slowed to a stop.
"Did Jaheira send you?" the driver called out.
"Yeah. Said you need an escort."
The man licked his lips nervously, still gripping the wheel. "What's your name?"
"Astarion."
Finally, some of his tension eased, and he got out, coming around and shaking Astarion's hand professionally. "I'm-" He paused, rethinking. "I suppose that doesn't matter…" he decided. "I've got some stuff in the back, if you can give me a hand."
Astarion followed him around the back as his client opened up the rear doors, brows rising at the setup inside. "This is pretty expensive equipment," he commented, as the man gathered up his bags from around the netrunning chair. "You're really abandoning it?"
The man stopped to look at it as he got out, his back turned to Astarion so that he could only read the stiffness of his posture. "Destroying it, actually," he corrected. "I haven't used it in a long time, anyway," he dismissed, heavy feelings colouring his voice as he turned and dipped his head, walking past him.
Astarion popped the trunk of his car with a beep before climbing inside the van. A pillow and thick blanket sat in the chair's seat, as if he'd been sleeping in it, and shopping bags piled up on the floor — most full of garbage, but a couple had unopened food inside. He picked them up, grabbing the bedding and tucking it under his arms.
"I think I can get one of these trees down," the man said, looking at the towering forest as Astarion packed his things into the car. "Have it fall across the road. I'll make the van swerve to avoid it," he motioned, "accidentally sending me off the edge…"
Astarion stood back, he and his car moved well out of the way as the man pointed his gun at the thick trunk of a tree. It was an innocuous little thing, just a handgun with a programming interface — which the technomancer had spent the last 20 minutes finessing the spell enchantment on.
"Ready?" the man called.
"When you are," Astarion replied, doubts rising that the gun could really fell a whole tree.
Then a sharp crack rang out, almost like lightning. The tree groaned as they watched it, the man backing away. Wood splintered, the towering thing starting to sway toward the road, gaining speed as it toppled before hitting the ground, bouncing on its cushioning of branches as they broke.
Well…
The stranger didn't celebrate his success, instead listening anxiously as his van picked up speed, hidden behind the trunk. Its tires squealed as it suddenly turned, crashing noisily through branches before they saw it emerge off the cliff, its long fall to the rocks ending in an explosion that lit up the dusk.
After a few moments watching it burn, he turned around, walking toward the car. "They won't be far behind. Time to put this roadblock behind us."
"I'll tolerate you confining Shadowheart for now, but I'm not applying restraints to a patient with such severe injuries. She's currently sedated for the pain, and if you want to take her with you, you'll have to wait until she's healthy enough to discharge."
Halsin's voice rang out sternly as Enver woke up, arguing in the other room with an unfamiliar woman. He sat up, waiting for the bout of dizziness to stop before carefully getting to his feet.
"How long will that take?"
"We're not a ripperdoc's, we don't have synthetic skin to replace hers. All I can do is keep her wounds clean, and offer some potions to support her rebuilding her own."
As he turned, he immediately caught sight of the clear tarps sectioning off the corner, curiously padding over and parting it. In the middle of the sheeted room lay the new patient, wrapped in obscene amounts of gauze.
He stepped inside, something about her face, her horns, familiar — and off. Did he know her? Did she know him? He reached out, wanting her to wake so she could answer questions he didn't know, a sensation like lukewarm water emanating from his palm.
His eyes scanned her body with alarm as rich red started to become visible under gauze all over her body, snatching his hand back as he realised he'd been doing something.
"Karlach…"
He looked up, a man he hadn't seen come in, now standing on the other side of her bed, looking down at her.
Enver's mind screamed at him the importance of this man.
I know you. I know you. I know you.
Dark eyes flicked up to meet his own.
"I take it you missed me," he grinned.
"Enver?" Halsin called softly, both of them turning as the plastic barrier crinkled and the druid poked his head in, sighing when he saw him. "I'm glad you're up and walking around, but you shouldn't be in here," he informed, beckoning him out.
"I know her," Enver stumbled, and Halsin paused, looking between his patients.
"You remember?"
"Just… 'Karlach'," he replied.
The druid tilted his head curiously. "Well, Karlach needs isolation right now, so she can heal."
Enver looked at her, at the red. "I think she's bleeding," he informed, before leaving.
A moment later, Halsin called his name, voice tight.
"Who's he calling 'Enver'?" the mystery man asked.
"Me?" the dragonborn replied.
"Yes, you," Halsin confirmed. "Can you come in here?"
"Your name's not Enver."
He looked at the human, brow furrowing with confusion, before opening the flap to see Halsin carefully removing gauze. Underneath, patches of bright, red skin broke up the dull blue.
"Was she like this when you came in?" Halsin asked.
He swallowed, not sure if he was in trouble.
"Enver," the druid said when he didn't reply, trying to get his attention.
"My name's not Enver."
Halsin blinked. "...Okay. What should I call you?" he seemed calmer, now that his patient was less at risk, but the dragonborn turned to the other man blankly.
After a moment, his anticipation turned to confusion. "...Are you deciding on an alias?"
"I have an alias?"
"Several."
"If that's what you're comfortable with," Halsin accepted.
The man's brow pinched, before throwing his hands up. "Durge it is, then."
"Durge…"
Halsin nodded slowly, watching him with some confusion, before continuing softly. "Durge, when did you notice the red?"
"...Some time after I came in."
"Have you cast magic before?"
"I don't know."
The druid looked between Durge and Karlach. "Did she seem dead at any point?"
Durge shook his head slowly. "She was breathing."
Halsin smiled, carefully removing her IV. "Thank you, Durge. You can go."
He finally left them be, mind swimming with questions as he sat on his cot.
"Not your usual M.O. Although I'm interested in seeing what she's capable of," the man pondered, looking over at her room, before quickly turning back to Durge as he opened his mouth to speak. "Ah!" he warned, placing a finger against the dragonborn's mouth. "I think you've confused him enough, already."
Who are you?
The man smiled, releasing him. "Better. But it'd be nice if you remembered me. Properly, not just stealing my name," he teased.
"...Enver." He didn't feel his voice rumble in his chest, but the man nodded all the same.
"Now you're getting it."
Durge paused, wheels churning, trying to put together the scarce pieces he knew into something coherent as he looked at the man. "...Why do I remember being you?"
Enver tilted his head. "That, is something I'd like to know as well. But it begs the question — why haven't you taken me out of your head, yet?"
Durge's fingers went up to his head, brushing over the mutilated scales, and damaged chipslot…