Crossover - Cliffton/Meeting of Breccan & Finbar: Not So Divine: Chapter 5
This is a crossover fanfiction of my The Meeting of Breccan & Finbar and n3m3sis43's Cliffton universes. For context, it might help to read n3m3sis43's piece, Everything You Touch.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
---------
Can't stop fucking thinking about last night. Don't believe it was real. How could it be fucking real? Everything has sucked. Except Wes. I have him. After all this time. Can't understand my luck. I keep glancing at the kitchen where he's making lunch.
How can one person be so fucking sweet? Feel like I don't deserve him. Too fucking sweet.
The rest of the table? Not so fucking sweet. Egan looks like he drank too much fucking SynthAle. Or else he didn't sleep at all. Kinda makes me smile. Maris scowls at him. Calla can't stop looking at me and fucking snickering. Wish she would fucking stop that. What happened is not funny.
“Oh, Princess, you look positively divine this afternoon,” Calla drawls.
“Don't fucking call me Princess,” I grumble.
She puts on this fucking fake-puzzled expression. “Hmm, wonder if it truly is possible to be both a god and a Princess. I think it is.”
“He's not really a god,” Egan mutters.
For once, I'll take the asshole's side.
“Princess is the one with the purple eyes, isn't he?” she says.
“Don't call me -”
I don't have time to finish that sentence. Wes enters with lunch. Fucking grilled cheese sandwiches. I want one so bad. Not fucking hungry. Wonder if I could eat one anyway, just to make Wes happy. He made them, after all.
After everyone's seated and eating, Maris speaks up. “It's sure nice that everyone can gather around for lunch, isn't it?”
Not nice when you can't fucking eat.
She asks, “So, what do you guys do for work?”
Kalen looks so fucking confused. “What, you mean like a job?”
She narrows her eyes. “I presume you have to do something to afford this house. Unless it's an illegal magical construct of some sort, though my limited information said people here had no magical potential.”
I mutter, “That's because there's no such thing as magic.” Never mind that I'm a fucking deity.
Maris glares at me. “I happen to own a magically constructed house. Magic is real, and it's dangerous. I would suggest you stop denying its existence before you get yourself in trouble.”
Not denial if magic isn't fucking real. Don't know what fancy tech she uses, but I won't talk about fucking magic.
“So, nobody answered me. How do you afford this house?” Maris asks.
“We get by,” I mumble. Don't wanna talk about how I afford this place.
She says, “I take it you don't have jobs in any traditional sense of the word, then? So, I'm curious, what do you guys do all day?”
Calla offers an explanation. “We're...freedom fighters. Trying to stop the War that's been raging here since forever.”
Maris smirks. “Saving the world types, huh? I was part of a group like that, once. Egan here, back when he was still a god, told my friend Finbar he was a Chosen One destined to save the world. That was a lie. It was just an excuse to hang around Finbar's lover and steal him away. Now that Egan's nobody, I doubt Breccan will ever think of taking him back.”
The fuck? Even I wouldn't go that fucking far to sleep with someone. Except maybe Wes, but if I did shit like that, I really wouldn't deserve him.
Calla cackles. “Wow, you must have been desperate, even as a god. You might want to make friends with your hand, now that you're a mortal.”
Egan turns bright fucking red.
Maris wonders, “So if you're freedom fighters, what exactly do you do? How do you plan to stop a war that's been going 'since forever,' as you put it?”
Good fucking question.
“Kalen's our leader. Why don't you ask him?” I say.
Takes him several long fucking moments to even notice someone said his name. “Huh?” he asks.
He is not fucking aware, at all.
Kalen wonders, “Did someone mention me?”
Calla snickers. “Yeah, Maris here wants to know what our plan of action is for being freedom fighters and all. Since you're the leader, you can tell everyone about the plans.”
He looks fucking confused. “I'm - I'm working on stuff,” he mumbles.
That's fucking news to me.
“What kind of stuff?” Maris asks.
Kalen has no fucking answer to give. Just sits there, kind of staring into space. No idea what to fucking say. Maris doesn't look pleased.
She narrows her eyes. “If you don't have a plan of action, how do you expect to get anything done?”
We don't?
Maris continues, “If you're going to do anything, you need to develop a plan. I have some experience with fighting. What skills do you have?”
Wes pipes up, “I'm great at research, like I said! And Devin is a super genius with circuitry. He can fix anything.”
Can't fucking fix the mess i'm in, can I?
“I meant in terms of fighting and such,”Maris says.
Brendan speaks. Sounds kind of shy. “I'm a good fighter.”
Calla drawls, “What Kalen lacks in self-awareness, he does make up for in agility, at least.”
We sound fucking pathetic. Maris agrees with that. I can tell by the expression on her face. She doesn't think very fucking much of us.
“You guys don't have much experience, do you?” Maris asks.
No, we do not. Not very fucking much at all. Never wanted to be a fighter, myself. Got dragged into when Kalen dragged all these extra people into my fucking house. Of course, the most recent additions were my fucking fault. Wish I could go back to just me and Wes. That would be fucking nice.
“No, we don't.” Calla sighs.
“You might want to get yourselves some training, then. I can help you there, if you'll let me. Think of it as payment for my staying in your house,” she offers.
Better fucking payment would be to figure out how to get Egan back his powers so he can fucking leave. Don't need his ass around. Want to be able to look in the fucking mirror and see me again. None of this purple-eyed bullshit. Don't fucking want it.
“You were impressive with those security robots, as you told it,” Brendan says.
“I've faced worse foes.”
Those were some high-grade fucking robots! And they're going to cost who knows how much to fix. And that HyperRope wasn't exactly fucking cheap, either.
* * *
I can't fucking believe we're here again. Kalen's old school. The fucking combat gymnasium. Training's important, but I have a bad feeling about this. Don't know how often we can push our luck by sneaking in here. Doesn't matter, though. Gotta fucking train, right?
Kalen drifts off to a corner the second we get there.
“Where are you going?” Maris snaps.
“Sorry, just thinking,” he mumbles. That's a fucking first.
Maris has us warm up. We run fucking laps. Something about getting our energy up. My energy's fucking fine. Got too much. I haven't even had so much as a cup of fucking SynthBrew since - that. Don't wanna fucking think about that. Tried to have a cup of SynthBrew and couldn't stand the taste. Want my fucking mortal body back. Want to make Wes smile when I eat his food.
As much as I fucking hate running, Egan hates it worse. Asshole is doubled over. Panting like he ran a fucking marathon. Holding his side. Look of fucking agony on his face. I wonder how much of it's an act so he doesn't have to participate.
Maris barks, “Keep moving, Egan! You're falling behind!”
He pants, “Can't - can't keep up. Not used to - mortal endurance. Or the pain. Not used - to the pain.”
Egan is the last to finish his laps. Fucking collapses in a heap. Maris yells at him to get up and come to the practice mats with the rest of us. Calla snickers. Gotta admit, it's fucking funny to watch how much of a mess Egan is. I stand next to Wes. Try not to flinch too much when he grabs my ass. Can't say I mind all that fucking much.
“Are we done yet?” Egan moans.
Maris shakes her head. “We haven't even started. That was just a warm-up.”
“I don't see why I have to do this. I'm not one of them,” he whines.
She glares at him with a look that could fucking kill. Gotta admit, I envy her death glare. She says, “You'll participate if you don't want to go back home. You'll be useful if I have to kill you to make you so.”
He looks like he would rather fucking die.
Calla snorts. “Making Egan useful? Good luck with that.”
Maris says, “We'll make him, and everyone else, useful by learning some basic blocking moves. Calla, would you help me demonstrate?”
They stand across from each other. “Try to hit me,” Maris orders.
“Really?” Calla asks.
Maris nods. Calla strikes with her robot reflexes. Or fucking tries to. Maris blocks her. It's fucking freaky. Calla has some of the best mechanical reflexes possible. Humans shouldn't be able to move that fucking fast.
“Try again,” Maris says.
Calla does. She blocks her again.
“And again,” Maris orders.
Calla strikes once more. And is fucking blocked. The fuck?
“I don't expect you all to be able to move that fast, but if you're going to serious freedom fighters, people will attack you and you will need to be able to block them.” Maris looks dead fucking serious, like she expects people to fucking burst out of the walls and attack us now.
She raises a bent arm to around her head. “This is a high block.”
She does the same thing, only this time her arm is parallel to the ground. Gotta fucking watch her so I know what I'm doing. Maris says, “This is a mid block.”
Her last block is somewhere around her fucking knees. “This is a low block.”
“So now I'm going to pair you off,” she announces. “You'll practice hitting high, mid and low, with accompanying blocks. One high strike, one mid strike, one low strike, and repeat. Got it?”
Everyone mumbles their assent. Even fucking Egan.
Maris decides who goes where. Somehow, I fucking end up without a partner. She's still with Calla. Egan's with Wes. I should fucking be with Wes. Egan looks happier than I've seen him since he became mortal. Guess he thinks beating Wes will be fucking easy.
“Alright, everyone on the right will strike, and everyone on the left will block. And go!” Maris says.
Can't help watching Wes. He's supposed to hit Egan. His “strike” is as uncoordinated as he is. He kind of flails at Egan. I expect an easy block, but Wes fucking falls forward into Egan. He can't fucking block him. They fall to the ground.
“I got you!” Wes squeals. He leaps up, ready to try again.
Egan takes longer to rise. He's fucking red. “You were just lucky,” he mutters.
I hear Calla snicker. “Maybe when you get your powers back, you can be the god of getting your ass kicked.”
“Everyone, keep going!” Maris orders.
Wes tries to strike Egan again. As before, his attack is more of a flail. A flail that hits Egan right in the fucking face. Wes fucking grins. Jumps a foot in the hair. “Wow, I'm good at this!”
“I think Egan's just really bad at it,” Calla says.
Calla's right. Wes is kicking his fucking ass. Losing your god status leaves you fucking pathetic.
I think I'm about to enjoy another round of Egan getting beat when I hear a weird fucking noise. The fuck?
“Did you fucking hear that?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Maris says. “Sounds like someone's coming.”
“Shit,” I hiss.
“I've a known terrorist,” Kalen whines.
If they catch Wes, I don't know what I'll fucking do. My chest fucking hurts. Feel like electricity is running through me.
The door bursts open. Fucking military police. The fuck? Their hard blue eyes stare at us from under their helmets.
“Hands above your heads!” the leader barks.
My vision starts to go funny. Now is not the time to fucking panic. Get it together. Gotta get it together. There's no way out of here, though. I'm not letting them take Wes. I put my hands above my head. Come on, fucking think of something. I want to make the policeman go away.
Maris isn't scared. “What do guys want? We're not doing anything wrong.”
“Silence!” The leader levels his nanoblaster at her.
This can't be fucking happening. No fucking way. That feeling of electricity gets worse.
Then the electricity turns fucking real. Shoots right out of my fucking hands. Like lightning. It blasts the five policemen. They all fall to the fucking ground. An alarm goes off.
“Run!” Maris shouts.
We fucking run.
---------
written for the hc_bingo prompt "Loss of Identity"
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
---------
Can't stop fucking thinking about last night. Don't believe it was real. How could it be fucking real? Everything has sucked. Except Wes. I have him. After all this time. Can't understand my luck. I keep glancing at the kitchen where he's making lunch.
How can one person be so fucking sweet? Feel like I don't deserve him. Too fucking sweet.
The rest of the table? Not so fucking sweet. Egan looks like he drank too much fucking SynthAle. Or else he didn't sleep at all. Kinda makes me smile. Maris scowls at him. Calla can't stop looking at me and fucking snickering. Wish she would fucking stop that. What happened is not funny.
“Oh, Princess, you look positively divine this afternoon,” Calla drawls.
“Don't fucking call me Princess,” I grumble.
She puts on this fucking fake-puzzled expression. “Hmm, wonder if it truly is possible to be both a god and a Princess. I think it is.”
“He's not really a god,” Egan mutters.
For once, I'll take the asshole's side.
“Princess is the one with the purple eyes, isn't he?” she says.
“Don't call me -”
I don't have time to finish that sentence. Wes enters with lunch. Fucking grilled cheese sandwiches. I want one so bad. Not fucking hungry. Wonder if I could eat one anyway, just to make Wes happy. He made them, after all.
After everyone's seated and eating, Maris speaks up. “It's sure nice that everyone can gather around for lunch, isn't it?”
Not nice when you can't fucking eat.
She asks, “So, what do you guys do for work?”
Kalen looks so fucking confused. “What, you mean like a job?”
She narrows her eyes. “I presume you have to do something to afford this house. Unless it's an illegal magical construct of some sort, though my limited information said people here had no magical potential.”
I mutter, “That's because there's no such thing as magic.” Never mind that I'm a fucking deity.
Maris glares at me. “I happen to own a magically constructed house. Magic is real, and it's dangerous. I would suggest you stop denying its existence before you get yourself in trouble.”
Not denial if magic isn't fucking real. Don't know what fancy tech she uses, but I won't talk about fucking magic.
“So, nobody answered me. How do you afford this house?” Maris asks.
“We get by,” I mumble. Don't wanna talk about how I afford this place.
She says, “I take it you don't have jobs in any traditional sense of the word, then? So, I'm curious, what do you guys do all day?”
Calla offers an explanation. “We're...freedom fighters. Trying to stop the War that's been raging here since forever.”
Maris smirks. “Saving the world types, huh? I was part of a group like that, once. Egan here, back when he was still a god, told my friend Finbar he was a Chosen One destined to save the world. That was a lie. It was just an excuse to hang around Finbar's lover and steal him away. Now that Egan's nobody, I doubt Breccan will ever think of taking him back.”
The fuck? Even I wouldn't go that fucking far to sleep with someone. Except maybe Wes, but if I did shit like that, I really wouldn't deserve him.
Calla cackles. “Wow, you must have been desperate, even as a god. You might want to make friends with your hand, now that you're a mortal.”
Egan turns bright fucking red.
Maris wonders, “So if you're freedom fighters, what exactly do you do? How do you plan to stop a war that's been going 'since forever,' as you put it?”
Good fucking question.
“Kalen's our leader. Why don't you ask him?” I say.
Takes him several long fucking moments to even notice someone said his name. “Huh?” he asks.
He is not fucking aware, at all.
Kalen wonders, “Did someone mention me?”
Calla snickers. “Yeah, Maris here wants to know what our plan of action is for being freedom fighters and all. Since you're the leader, you can tell everyone about the plans.”
He looks fucking confused. “I'm - I'm working on stuff,” he mumbles.
That's fucking news to me.
“What kind of stuff?” Maris asks.
Kalen has no fucking answer to give. Just sits there, kind of staring into space. No idea what to fucking say. Maris doesn't look pleased.
She narrows her eyes. “If you don't have a plan of action, how do you expect to get anything done?”
We don't?
Maris continues, “If you're going to do anything, you need to develop a plan. I have some experience with fighting. What skills do you have?”
Wes pipes up, “I'm great at research, like I said! And Devin is a super genius with circuitry. He can fix anything.”
Can't fucking fix the mess i'm in, can I?
“I meant in terms of fighting and such,”Maris says.
Brendan speaks. Sounds kind of shy. “I'm a good fighter.”
Calla drawls, “What Kalen lacks in self-awareness, he does make up for in agility, at least.”
We sound fucking pathetic. Maris agrees with that. I can tell by the expression on her face. She doesn't think very fucking much of us.
“You guys don't have much experience, do you?” Maris asks.
No, we do not. Not very fucking much at all. Never wanted to be a fighter, myself. Got dragged into when Kalen dragged all these extra people into my fucking house. Of course, the most recent additions were my fucking fault. Wish I could go back to just me and Wes. That would be fucking nice.
“No, we don't.” Calla sighs.
“You might want to get yourselves some training, then. I can help you there, if you'll let me. Think of it as payment for my staying in your house,” she offers.
Better fucking payment would be to figure out how to get Egan back his powers so he can fucking leave. Don't need his ass around. Want to be able to look in the fucking mirror and see me again. None of this purple-eyed bullshit. Don't fucking want it.
“You were impressive with those security robots, as you told it,” Brendan says.
“I've faced worse foes.”
Those were some high-grade fucking robots! And they're going to cost who knows how much to fix. And that HyperRope wasn't exactly fucking cheap, either.
* * *
I can't fucking believe we're here again. Kalen's old school. The fucking combat gymnasium. Training's important, but I have a bad feeling about this. Don't know how often we can push our luck by sneaking in here. Doesn't matter, though. Gotta fucking train, right?
Kalen drifts off to a corner the second we get there.
“Where are you going?” Maris snaps.
“Sorry, just thinking,” he mumbles. That's a fucking first.
Maris has us warm up. We run fucking laps. Something about getting our energy up. My energy's fucking fine. Got too much. I haven't even had so much as a cup of fucking SynthBrew since - that. Don't wanna fucking think about that. Tried to have a cup of SynthBrew and couldn't stand the taste. Want my fucking mortal body back. Want to make Wes smile when I eat his food.
As much as I fucking hate running, Egan hates it worse. Asshole is doubled over. Panting like he ran a fucking marathon. Holding his side. Look of fucking agony on his face. I wonder how much of it's an act so he doesn't have to participate.
Maris barks, “Keep moving, Egan! You're falling behind!”
He pants, “Can't - can't keep up. Not used to - mortal endurance. Or the pain. Not used - to the pain.”
Egan is the last to finish his laps. Fucking collapses in a heap. Maris yells at him to get up and come to the practice mats with the rest of us. Calla snickers. Gotta admit, it's fucking funny to watch how much of a mess Egan is. I stand next to Wes. Try not to flinch too much when he grabs my ass. Can't say I mind all that fucking much.
“Are we done yet?” Egan moans.
Maris shakes her head. “We haven't even started. That was just a warm-up.”
“I don't see why I have to do this. I'm not one of them,” he whines.
She glares at him with a look that could fucking kill. Gotta admit, I envy her death glare. She says, “You'll participate if you don't want to go back home. You'll be useful if I have to kill you to make you so.”
He looks like he would rather fucking die.
Calla snorts. “Making Egan useful? Good luck with that.”
Maris says, “We'll make him, and everyone else, useful by learning some basic blocking moves. Calla, would you help me demonstrate?”
They stand across from each other. “Try to hit me,” Maris orders.
“Really?” Calla asks.
Maris nods. Calla strikes with her robot reflexes. Or fucking tries to. Maris blocks her. It's fucking freaky. Calla has some of the best mechanical reflexes possible. Humans shouldn't be able to move that fucking fast.
“Try again,” Maris says.
Calla does. She blocks her again.
“And again,” Maris orders.
Calla strikes once more. And is fucking blocked. The fuck?
“I don't expect you all to be able to move that fast, but if you're going to serious freedom fighters, people will attack you and you will need to be able to block them.” Maris looks dead fucking serious, like she expects people to fucking burst out of the walls and attack us now.
She raises a bent arm to around her head. “This is a high block.”
She does the same thing, only this time her arm is parallel to the ground. Gotta fucking watch her so I know what I'm doing. Maris says, “This is a mid block.”
Her last block is somewhere around her fucking knees. “This is a low block.”
“So now I'm going to pair you off,” she announces. “You'll practice hitting high, mid and low, with accompanying blocks. One high strike, one mid strike, one low strike, and repeat. Got it?”
Everyone mumbles their assent. Even fucking Egan.
Maris decides who goes where. Somehow, I fucking end up without a partner. She's still with Calla. Egan's with Wes. I should fucking be with Wes. Egan looks happier than I've seen him since he became mortal. Guess he thinks beating Wes will be fucking easy.
“Alright, everyone on the right will strike, and everyone on the left will block. And go!” Maris says.
Can't help watching Wes. He's supposed to hit Egan. His “strike” is as uncoordinated as he is. He kind of flails at Egan. I expect an easy block, but Wes fucking falls forward into Egan. He can't fucking block him. They fall to the ground.
“I got you!” Wes squeals. He leaps up, ready to try again.
Egan takes longer to rise. He's fucking red. “You were just lucky,” he mutters.
I hear Calla snicker. “Maybe when you get your powers back, you can be the god of getting your ass kicked.”
“Everyone, keep going!” Maris orders.
Wes tries to strike Egan again. As before, his attack is more of a flail. A flail that hits Egan right in the fucking face. Wes fucking grins. Jumps a foot in the hair. “Wow, I'm good at this!”
“I think Egan's just really bad at it,” Calla says.
Calla's right. Wes is kicking his fucking ass. Losing your god status leaves you fucking pathetic.
I think I'm about to enjoy another round of Egan getting beat when I hear a weird fucking noise. The fuck?
“Did you fucking hear that?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Maris says. “Sounds like someone's coming.”
“Shit,” I hiss.
“I've a known terrorist,” Kalen whines.
If they catch Wes, I don't know what I'll fucking do. My chest fucking hurts. Feel like electricity is running through me.
The door bursts open. Fucking military police. The fuck? Their hard blue eyes stare at us from under their helmets.
“Hands above your heads!” the leader barks.
My vision starts to go funny. Now is not the time to fucking panic. Get it together. Gotta get it together. There's no way out of here, though. I'm not letting them take Wes. I put my hands above my head. Come on, fucking think of something. I want to make the policeman go away.
Maris isn't scared. “What do guys want? We're not doing anything wrong.”
“Silence!” The leader levels his nanoblaster at her.
This can't be fucking happening. No fucking way. That feeling of electricity gets worse.
Then the electricity turns fucking real. Shoots right out of my fucking hands. Like lightning. It blasts the five policemen. They all fall to the fucking ground. An alarm goes off.
“Run!” Maris shouts.
We fucking run.
---------
written for the hc_bingo prompt "Loss of Identity"