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quixotism2009-05-05 06:02 pm
bromantic.livejournal.com) wrote in quixotism2009-05-05 06:02 pm
Entry tags:
[fanfic] [storm hawks] Between the Lines
Title: Between the Lines
Pairing: Dark Ace/Aerrow
Summary: [au] What if Cyclonia had all in her grasp? And the next generation was all but guaranteed to be a talon...
Parts: 1/?
Notes: This is actually vaguely based on a short piece I wrote ages ago... I just. Expanded on it!
This, the Dark Ace thought, is what we've been reduced to.
The recruits lined up in front of him were all but mothercoddlers and cowards. He could see it in their eyes, the way their brows bent and perspired, their gaze always wavering, always unsure. When he came closer, their heels clicked together and there was the aura of fear, thick and annoying and it took all of him not to turn up in disgust.
Who was he kidding, he did it anyway.
He was only half way down the line before he got fed up. "Dismissed!" he blared and they all scuttled away like sheep on one of those agricultural terras that were good for nothing. Some of them rushed back to their dorms and the others slouched in a corner, no doubt gossiping about him (the dark ace, is it really him? do you know what he's done?)
His legacy was now a handful of teenagers discussing his deeds over dinner and scraps.
There was no thought quite as miserable as that.
It was a little later when he arrived back to the hanger bay to check on his ride. He could have had expert mechanics handle it, but he always felt irritable about strangers' hands on his vehicle. If you want something done, he thinks, always have it done yourself. It's not like he could trust everyone in Cyclonia either. He was the right hand man, a position much desired and wanted. A faulty Skimmer would be one way of putting him out of action.
But when he reached his personal hanger, voices drifted past him, unfamiliar voices. He knelt down and drew a dagger, just in case.
"I knew I shouldn't have left it like that--be quiet Radarr--look, the sooner we fix this, the sooner we can go back to the dorms and get you something to eat."
There, kneeling in front of a rather run-down and dirty Skimmer the Dark Ace had ever seen, was a boy (he mentally placed him at... fifteen? fourteen?) with spiky red hair and bright green eyes with a wrench in his hand. His face is scrunched up in concentration as he tightens the bolts underneath the wings (and it's been a while since the Dark Ace has seen anyone spend so much care and dedication to screwing a nut into a machine).
"There, we're all done here, Radarr," and the Dark Ace spotted a blue rat-like creature crawl out from under the Skimmer and latch itself on the boy's shoulders like it belonged there. The boy wiped his brow and grinned, "It's a job well done."
"I would think so," the Dark Ace drawled, finally coming out of the open. The boy jerked and his eyes widened so comically that the Dark Ace couldn't refrain from a chuckle.
"Sir! I--," the boy was sheepish in seconds, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "I didn't know you'd be here."
"You weren't supposed to," the Dark Ace pointed out, "What were you doing?" He knew, but he rather hear it for himself.
The boy tried to hang his hands by his sides and seem more responsible and authoritative. It would have worked if the tell-tale sideways glances hadn't destroyed the persona, "I just wanted my Skimmer to be in proper form for the aerial manouevres tomorrow... Sir."
There was something oddly familiar about the boy, something that hovered beyond the edge of his thought and memory, something that will engulf him completely. He paid it no attention. If it was important, he would have realized it by now.
"It's late," the Dark Ace said, noting how the boy jumped at attention at his voice. Impressive, "Go back to the dorms at once."
"Yessir!"
The boy would have all but vanished had the Dark Ace not put in an addendum, "Wait!"
He froze and turned his head back in apprehension, "...Sir?"
"Your name."
He blinked at that and the Dark Ace could just picture the wheels turning in his head. The Dark Ace asked for my name? What does that mean?
To the boy's credit, that unwavering gaze never falters and for that, the Dark Ace was willing to learn a thing or two, "It's Aerrow"
"Very well then Aerrow," and he couldn't help adding his trademark smirk to his final parting words, "I look forward to your performance tomorrow."
Perhaps there's hope for the Talon force after all.
Pairing: Dark Ace/Aerrow
Summary: [au] What if Cyclonia had all in her grasp? And the next generation was all but guaranteed to be a talon...
Parts: 1/?
Notes: This is actually vaguely based on a short piece I wrote ages ago... I just. Expanded on it!
This, the Dark Ace thought, is what we've been reduced to.
The recruits lined up in front of him were all but mothercoddlers and cowards. He could see it in their eyes, the way their brows bent and perspired, their gaze always wavering, always unsure. When he came closer, their heels clicked together and there was the aura of fear, thick and annoying and it took all of him not to turn up in disgust.
Who was he kidding, he did it anyway.
He was only half way down the line before he got fed up. "Dismissed!" he blared and they all scuttled away like sheep on one of those agricultural terras that were good for nothing. Some of them rushed back to their dorms and the others slouched in a corner, no doubt gossiping about him (the dark ace, is it really him? do you know what he's done?)
His legacy was now a handful of teenagers discussing his deeds over dinner and scraps.
There was no thought quite as miserable as that.
It was a little later when he arrived back to the hanger bay to check on his ride. He could have had expert mechanics handle it, but he always felt irritable about strangers' hands on his vehicle. If you want something done, he thinks, always have it done yourself. It's not like he could trust everyone in Cyclonia either. He was the right hand man, a position much desired and wanted. A faulty Skimmer would be one way of putting him out of action.
But when he reached his personal hanger, voices drifted past him, unfamiliar voices. He knelt down and drew a dagger, just in case.
"I knew I shouldn't have left it like that--be quiet Radarr--look, the sooner we fix this, the sooner we can go back to the dorms and get you something to eat."
There, kneeling in front of a rather run-down and dirty Skimmer the Dark Ace had ever seen, was a boy (he mentally placed him at... fifteen? fourteen?) with spiky red hair and bright green eyes with a wrench in his hand. His face is scrunched up in concentration as he tightens the bolts underneath the wings (and it's been a while since the Dark Ace has seen anyone spend so much care and dedication to screwing a nut into a machine).
"There, we're all done here, Radarr," and the Dark Ace spotted a blue rat-like creature crawl out from under the Skimmer and latch itself on the boy's shoulders like it belonged there. The boy wiped his brow and grinned, "It's a job well done."
"I would think so," the Dark Ace drawled, finally coming out of the open. The boy jerked and his eyes widened so comically that the Dark Ace couldn't refrain from a chuckle.
"Sir! I--," the boy was sheepish in seconds, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "I didn't know you'd be here."
"You weren't supposed to," the Dark Ace pointed out, "What were you doing?" He knew, but he rather hear it for himself.
The boy tried to hang his hands by his sides and seem more responsible and authoritative. It would have worked if the tell-tale sideways glances hadn't destroyed the persona, "I just wanted my Skimmer to be in proper form for the aerial manouevres tomorrow... Sir."
There was something oddly familiar about the boy, something that hovered beyond the edge of his thought and memory, something that will engulf him completely. He paid it no attention. If it was important, he would have realized it by now.
"It's late," the Dark Ace said, noting how the boy jumped at attention at his voice. Impressive, "Go back to the dorms at once."
"Yessir!"
The boy would have all but vanished had the Dark Ace not put in an addendum, "Wait!"
He froze and turned his head back in apprehension, "...Sir?"
"Your name."
He blinked at that and the Dark Ace could just picture the wheels turning in his head. The Dark Ace asked for my name? What does that mean?
To the boy's credit, that unwavering gaze never falters and for that, the Dark Ace was willing to learn a thing or two, "It's Aerrow"
"Very well then Aerrow," and he couldn't help adding his trademark smirk to his final parting words, "I look forward to your performance tomorrow."
Perhaps there's hope for the Talon force after all.