Flyboy and the Brain, by Darkrose (Villains Challenge)
Author: Darkrose (darkrosetiger)
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis/City of Villains crossover
Characters: Rodney/John, Teyla
Archive: sga_flashfic; all others, please ask.
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~2,500 words
Summary: What's Rodney McKay doing tonight? The same thing he does every night: try to take over the world!
Warnings: It's a crossover between SGA and a MMORPG. Be very afraid.
Disclaimer: None of these people are mine, and I'm not making any money. OMGMGM (and NCSoft) DUNSUE!
Notes: Written for the "Villains" challenge on sga_flashfic. This is a cracktastic riff on my City of Villains characters Meredith Ingram (Radiation/Radiation Corrupter) and Major Flyboy (Mercenaries/Traps Mastermind) and Emma Gen (Martial Arts/Dark Armor Stalker). More info on the CoV world can be found here, but the general idea is that there's an evil super villain cabal called Arachnos who battle against goody-two-shoes superheroes, and that Rodney can shoot x-ray beams out of his eyes.
The club was crowded, noisy and smoky; the drinks were obscenely overpriced, and Rodney McKay--or "Meredith Ingram", as he was for the duration of the conference--had a headache. To be fair, the headache wasn't because of the crowds, noise, or cigarette smoke and certainly not because of the expensive drinks with very little actual alcohol in them. Then again, no one had ever accused Rodney of being fair.
Rodney was only in the club because he'd been told that if he wanted to find a good-looking guy for a no-strings-attached dalliance while he was in Chicago, this was the place to be. The prospect of getting laid had been almost as important as the prospect of getting his hands on Marcus Randall's fusion generator (if it really worked). At home, his options were limited by the fact that all of the Rogue Isles prostitution invariably led back to Arachnos, and the fact that nearly everyone else he would even consider worth fucking had their own agenda. Since Rodney's agenda involved world domination, their goals always conflicted with his.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, fishing in his pocket for the bottle of Vicodin. Two pills washed down with the last of his drink reduced the throbbing in his head to a dull roar, but he knew it would only help for a little while. The real problem was that he hadn't been able to use his powers in four days, increasing the buildup of radioactive energies in his system. It wasn't as bad as the two weeks he'd spent as a guest of Zigursky Correctional Facility, but he wasn't used to it anymore.
Tossing a couple of bills on the bar, Rodney got up and walked out. It was a nice night, so he decided to walk back to the hotel.
"You're in the wrong part of town," he heard someone say. He looked around for a moment before realizing that with his personal cloaking device activated, no one could see him unless they were practically on top of him. The trouble, as it turned out, was around the corner. Three big guys with what he thought was greenish skin--it was hard to tell under the amber streetlights--had surrounded another, smaller man.
Rodney smiled. Taking out a couple of Trolls would be easy. If anyone asked awkward questions, he'd look like the hero type. He'd bleed off some of the radiation, helping his headache, and there was the distinct possibility that the other guy would be at least a blowjob's worth of grateful. It was a win all the way around, really. He pulled his focusing goggles out and slipped them over his head, then tugged his gauntlets on and flexed his fingers.
As usual, he started off with a burst of energy that would cause his targets to suffer some of the effects of radiation poisoning. He followed that up with a couple of blasts channelled from his fingertips and then his favorite attack: concentrated beams of radiation directed from his eyes.
Moving had triggered the cloaking device's shutdown function, so the Trolls' attention was all on him. That was sub-optimal, but nothing that he couldn't handle. He backed up quickly, blasting the nearest Troll as he went.
One of the Trolls who was advancing on him suddenly stopped, pinned to the ground by thick, sticky webbing. Another stumbled on a patch of caltrops that appeared beneath his feet. Rodney got a brief glimpse of the guy he'd thought he was rescuing, grinning like a maniac as he pulled out a handgun with a silencer and fired at the stuck Troll.
The fight didn't last too long after that.
After the last Troll collapsed in a large, green pile, Rodney stretched out his hands to heal himself and, since he was in range, the other guy. Now that he had a chance to get a good look, he realized that the mystery man was pretty hot: about Rodney's height, weird spiky dark hair, a little on the skinny side but with enough muscle tone to look damn good in the tight black leather pants he was wearing. He held the gun like an expert; Rodney had always been turned on by competence, and it would have been incredibly sexy if the gun hadn't been aimed at him.
"You with Hero Corps?" the guy asked.
Rodney couldn't help snorting at the idea that he'd ever work with that bunch of sanctimonious, self-righteous do-gooders. "Absolutely not. No...I suppose you could say I'm an independent contractor. I was just passing by, and I thought I'd help even the odds a little."
"Who were those clowns, anyway?" his new friend said, gesturing toward the dead Trolls.
"Trolls--gangbangers and thugs hooked on Superadine. They're all over the place back home," Rodney told him. The guy arched an eyebrow.
"Would that be Paragon City?"
"Near there." Rodney said. It was true, in the more global sense of "near". He held out a hand. "Doctor Meredith Ingram."
The guy shook his hand and didn't so much as chuckle at Rodney's first name, which was several points in his favor. "My men usually call me Major, but you can call me Sheppard."
It was Rodney's turn to do the eyebrow thing. "Military?"
Sheppard smiled tightly. "Air Force. Used to be."
Rodney gave him a long, assessing look. "Let me guess: somebody asked and you told, didn't you?"
The smile twisted into a lopsided smirk. "Something like that, yeah."
"Look...." Rodney said. "I'd love to chat, but at some point, the cops are going to show up, and I'd just as soon not be here when that happens. I'm heading back to my hotel; you're welcome to join me." It was a bit of a risk, but even if Sheppard was armed, Rodney could kill him with his eye beams before he could get his gun out.
Rodney's hotel was much nicer than most scientists at an academic conference could afford; he'd decided that since he didn't get off the Isles much, he could afford to splurge now and then. He stood in the middle of the room, arms folded over his chest, staring at Sheppard who gave him a lazy half-grin in response.
"Like I said, I want to talk to you. But that can wait," Rodney said. "Right now, I was thinking that I helped you out back there, and you owe me."
"Do I, now...." Sheppard drawled.
"I think so." Rodney narrowed his eyes.
If Sheppard was at all intimidated, he didn't show it. Instead, he sat down and started unbuckling his boots. He glanced up at Rodney and shrugged. "Can't kneel in these pants," he said, kicking his boots off and wiggling out of the leather in a way that should have been illegal and probably was in some jurisdictions. "I figure, you're probably right. I think I could have taken those guys, but I'd have gotten a lot more banged up if you hadn't stepped in. So...." He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "...I suppose I do owe you one."
If he hadn't learned how to control his reactions early on--a necessity, when you can maim or kill someone with a thought--Rodney would have completely lost it when Sheppard slid to the floor and started crawling toward him, slinking catlike across the carpeting. He looked at Rodney, smirking because the bastard knew he had the upper hand. Rodney was pretty sure that state of affairs was intolerable, but doing something about it would have to wait for a time when his belt wasn't being unbuckled and his fly unzipped and the long-fingered hands that had handled the gun so competently weren't easing Rodney's dick out and stroking it before a hot, wet mouth swallowed him down, and--
Holy fucking shit.
It seemed that Sheppard was an expert at handling more than a 9mm. He seemed to know exactly where to lick and press his tongue in order to make Rodney twitch and gasp. Each time Rodney felt like he was close, Sheppard would pull back and concentrate on gently massaging Rodney's balls through his pants. Every few seconds he'd look up at Rodney through his ridiculously long eyelashes, smug and completely confident in his ability to play Rodney like a virtuoso.
Smug was usually Rodney's default, and he didn't appreciate it being co-opted, even by an incredibly skilled cocksucker. He grabbed Sheppard's hair, a little surprised when it wasn't stiff with gel, and shoved in until he could feel the back of Sheppard's throat. Sheppard didn't blink, and didn't even choke much; he closed his eyes and looked almost blissful while Rodney fucked his face.
"You do look good on your knees," Rodney said softly, reaching out and running his thumb along Sheppard's jawline. "And you seem to love having a hard cock down your throat. I'll have to keep that in mind."
Sheppard opened his eyes and glared at Rodney, but he didn't stop sucking. When Rodney slid his hand down to grip the back of his neck, Sheppard closed his eyes again and actually whimpered, and Rodney couldn't hold back any longer. He came hard enough to stumble, gasping as he tried not to trip over Sheppard.
Sheppard sat back on his heels for a moment before getting to his feet and stretching. "Your turn now."
Both of Rodney's eyebrows went up at that one. Sheppard scowled. "Yeah, you saved my ass out there, but I also slowed those Troll-guys down so they didn't all mob you at once. I think that should get me a little reciprocation--especially if you want to do this again."
Rodney did. "Fine," he snapped. "Lie down."
Sheppard grinned and flopped face-up on the bed, legs spread obscenely wide. Rodney stretched his fingers out, still in the gauntlets, and was amused to see Sheppard's grin slip.
"The gloves just help me channel and manipulate the radiation," he explained. "Your dick's not going to glow in the dark after this, don't worry. In fact..." He reached out and concentrated, bathing the two of them in a green glow which dissipated after a few seconds.
"What the fuck--" Sheppard sat up and nearly fell forward onto his face as he moved more quickly than he had just a minute ago. "Fuck!"
"Calm down," Rodney told him. "I've just accelerated our respective metabolisms. Think of it as meth, only without the addiction and the bad hygiene parts. It's perfectly harmless."
"You're not going to--I don't know, leak or anything, are you?" Sheppard asked as Rodney took the gauntlets off.
"What? No, don't be an idiot. If I didn't have my powers under complete control, I'd still be--" Rodney broke off before he could say, "in the Zig". That wasn't information Sheppard needed to know.
Sheppard frowned. "What?"
"Nothing. Not important." The buzz from the metabolic boost had kicked in for real. Rodney climbed up on the bed and positioned himself between Sheppard's legs. Sheppard had a nice cock--long and not too thin and easy for Rodney to wrap a hand around, and already hard. When Rodney stroked him a couple of times Sheppard twitched in a way that made him figure he was on the right track. Sheppard looked great like that, spread out and flushed, his perfect mouth slightly open. Seeing him squirm gave Rodney an idea. He reached down until he was resting two fingers on Sheppard's lower lip.
"You might want to get these wet for me," he said. Feeling Sheppard suck his fingers in and run his tongue over them as lovingly as he had Rodney's dick was almost as much of a rush as watching someone writhe as he barraged them with radiation. He was almost sorry when he decided it was time to pull his hand away, but Sheppard's moan when Rodney shoved his fingers into him was worth it.
'That's it...yeah..." He continued jerking Sheppard off, speeding up his strokes as he angled his fingers just right. Sheppard practically levitated off the bed when he came.
"Fuck..." Sheppard said when he got his breath back. "So I take it one of your superpowers is the ability to give a guy an amazing orgasm?"
Rodney smirked. "No, that's just natural talent."
"Bet that comes in handy, working for Arachnos."
Rodney froze. "I don't know what you mean. I told you--"
"You're an 'independent contractor'. I know." Sheppard sat up, watching Rodney through slightly narrowed eyes. "But I'm thinking a superhero wouldn't be so anxious to get out of Dodge before the cops showed up, and I doubt he'd be so quick to use his powers just to give someone a buzz during sex. If you're not a hero, then, stands to reason you're on the other side--and that means Recluse."
He'd left out the "Lord", Rodney noted, which could be ignorance, bravado, or a setup. "I've done some jobs for Lord Recluse, but I'm not an official member of Arachnos at the moment," he said carefully.
All of a sudden Rodney remembered something Sheppard had said right after the fight. He snapped his fingers. "You said 'My men usually call me Major' earlier--present tense."
Sheppard leaned forward. "Yeah, I did. I may have been 'involuntarily separated', as the Air Force puts it, but I always looked out for my men. Some of them decided they'd rather work for me than for the U.S. government, so now, I'm doing 'private security contracting'."
Rodney clenched his hands into fists; he was so excited he was shaking. "Mercenaries for hire."
"Exactly." Sheppard bared his teeth in something that wasn't really a smile. "I've been thinking about relocating to the Rogue Isles. I don't suppose you know anyone there who might be interested in a mutually profitable business arrangement, Doctor?"
With Sheppard and a small army at his side, Rodney could focus on his research, travel throughout the Isles without having to run from large groups of Wolf Spiders, Snakes, or other superpowered villains, and most likely enjoy mind blowing sex during the down times. It really was a no-brainer, even for non-geniuses.
"Major," he said, "I believe this may be the start of a beautiful friendship."
*****
Teyla Emmagen waited for five minutes after the lights in McKay's hotel room had gone off before packing up her equipment. Tonight's surveillance of the ambitious scientist had proved more useful than she could have anticipated--and since she could see into at least some of the myriad possible futures, she could anticipate a great deal.
Slinging her pack over one shoulder and gathering the shadows around her, she stepped off the fire escape and dropped five stories to the ground, landing silently. She was already composing the three different versions of her report: one for the Arbiters, another for the Fortunata Cabal, and a third for her own faction, the Night Widows. Once that was done, she could go and offer her services to Rodney McKay and John Sheppard. Together the three of them would be a match for anyone in Arachnos save Lord Recluse. And even he was not truly immortal....
Teyla vanished, teleporting herself back to the Isles, but the sound of her laughter lingered in the night.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis/City of Villains crossover
Characters: Rodney/John, Teyla
Archive: sga_flashfic; all others, please ask.
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~2,500 words
Summary: What's Rodney McKay doing tonight? The same thing he does every night: try to take over the world!
Warnings: It's a crossover between SGA and a MMORPG. Be very afraid.
Disclaimer: None of these people are mine, and I'm not making any money. OMGMGM (and NCSoft) DUNSUE!
Notes: Written for the "Villains" challenge on sga_flashfic. This is a cracktastic riff on my City of Villains characters Meredith Ingram (Radiation/Radiation Corrupter) and Major Flyboy (Mercenaries/Traps Mastermind) and Emma Gen (Martial Arts/Dark Armor Stalker). More info on the CoV world can be found here, but the general idea is that there's an evil super villain cabal called Arachnos who battle against goody-two-shoes superheroes, and that Rodney can shoot x-ray beams out of his eyes.
The club was crowded, noisy and smoky; the drinks were obscenely overpriced, and Rodney McKay--or "Meredith Ingram", as he was for the duration of the conference--had a headache. To be fair, the headache wasn't because of the crowds, noise, or cigarette smoke and certainly not because of the expensive drinks with very little actual alcohol in them. Then again, no one had ever accused Rodney of being fair.
Rodney was only in the club because he'd been told that if he wanted to find a good-looking guy for a no-strings-attached dalliance while he was in Chicago, this was the place to be. The prospect of getting laid had been almost as important as the prospect of getting his hands on Marcus Randall's fusion generator (if it really worked). At home, his options were limited by the fact that all of the Rogue Isles prostitution invariably led back to Arachnos, and the fact that nearly everyone else he would even consider worth fucking had their own agenda. Since Rodney's agenda involved world domination, their goals always conflicted with his.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, fishing in his pocket for the bottle of Vicodin. Two pills washed down with the last of his drink reduced the throbbing in his head to a dull roar, but he knew it would only help for a little while. The real problem was that he hadn't been able to use his powers in four days, increasing the buildup of radioactive energies in his system. It wasn't as bad as the two weeks he'd spent as a guest of Zigursky Correctional Facility, but he wasn't used to it anymore.
Tossing a couple of bills on the bar, Rodney got up and walked out. It was a nice night, so he decided to walk back to the hotel.
"You're in the wrong part of town," he heard someone say. He looked around for a moment before realizing that with his personal cloaking device activated, no one could see him unless they were practically on top of him. The trouble, as it turned out, was around the corner. Three big guys with what he thought was greenish skin--it was hard to tell under the amber streetlights--had surrounded another, smaller man.
Rodney smiled. Taking out a couple of Trolls would be easy. If anyone asked awkward questions, he'd look like the hero type. He'd bleed off some of the radiation, helping his headache, and there was the distinct possibility that the other guy would be at least a blowjob's worth of grateful. It was a win all the way around, really. He pulled his focusing goggles out and slipped them over his head, then tugged his gauntlets on and flexed his fingers.
As usual, he started off with a burst of energy that would cause his targets to suffer some of the effects of radiation poisoning. He followed that up with a couple of blasts channelled from his fingertips and then his favorite attack: concentrated beams of radiation directed from his eyes.
Moving had triggered the cloaking device's shutdown function, so the Trolls' attention was all on him. That was sub-optimal, but nothing that he couldn't handle. He backed up quickly, blasting the nearest Troll as he went.
One of the Trolls who was advancing on him suddenly stopped, pinned to the ground by thick, sticky webbing. Another stumbled on a patch of caltrops that appeared beneath his feet. Rodney got a brief glimpse of the guy he'd thought he was rescuing, grinning like a maniac as he pulled out a handgun with a silencer and fired at the stuck Troll.
The fight didn't last too long after that.
After the last Troll collapsed in a large, green pile, Rodney stretched out his hands to heal himself and, since he was in range, the other guy. Now that he had a chance to get a good look, he realized that the mystery man was pretty hot: about Rodney's height, weird spiky dark hair, a little on the skinny side but with enough muscle tone to look damn good in the tight black leather pants he was wearing. He held the gun like an expert; Rodney had always been turned on by competence, and it would have been incredibly sexy if the gun hadn't been aimed at him.
"You with Hero Corps?" the guy asked.
Rodney couldn't help snorting at the idea that he'd ever work with that bunch of sanctimonious, self-righteous do-gooders. "Absolutely not. No...I suppose you could say I'm an independent contractor. I was just passing by, and I thought I'd help even the odds a little."
"Who were those clowns, anyway?" his new friend said, gesturing toward the dead Trolls.
"Trolls--gangbangers and thugs hooked on Superadine. They're all over the place back home," Rodney told him. The guy arched an eyebrow.
"Would that be Paragon City?"
"Near there." Rodney said. It was true, in the more global sense of "near". He held out a hand. "Doctor Meredith Ingram."
The guy shook his hand and didn't so much as chuckle at Rodney's first name, which was several points in his favor. "My men usually call me Major, but you can call me Sheppard."
It was Rodney's turn to do the eyebrow thing. "Military?"
Sheppard smiled tightly. "Air Force. Used to be."
Rodney gave him a long, assessing look. "Let me guess: somebody asked and you told, didn't you?"
The smile twisted into a lopsided smirk. "Something like that, yeah."
"Look...." Rodney said. "I'd love to chat, but at some point, the cops are going to show up, and I'd just as soon not be here when that happens. I'm heading back to my hotel; you're welcome to join me." It was a bit of a risk, but even if Sheppard was armed, Rodney could kill him with his eye beams before he could get his gun out.
Rodney's hotel was much nicer than most scientists at an academic conference could afford; he'd decided that since he didn't get off the Isles much, he could afford to splurge now and then. He stood in the middle of the room, arms folded over his chest, staring at Sheppard who gave him a lazy half-grin in response.
"Like I said, I want to talk to you. But that can wait," Rodney said. "Right now, I was thinking that I helped you out back there, and you owe me."
"Do I, now...." Sheppard drawled.
"I think so." Rodney narrowed his eyes.
If Sheppard was at all intimidated, he didn't show it. Instead, he sat down and started unbuckling his boots. He glanced up at Rodney and shrugged. "Can't kneel in these pants," he said, kicking his boots off and wiggling out of the leather in a way that should have been illegal and probably was in some jurisdictions. "I figure, you're probably right. I think I could have taken those guys, but I'd have gotten a lot more banged up if you hadn't stepped in. So...." He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "...I suppose I do owe you one."
If he hadn't learned how to control his reactions early on--a necessity, when you can maim or kill someone with a thought--Rodney would have completely lost it when Sheppard slid to the floor and started crawling toward him, slinking catlike across the carpeting. He looked at Rodney, smirking because the bastard knew he had the upper hand. Rodney was pretty sure that state of affairs was intolerable, but doing something about it would have to wait for a time when his belt wasn't being unbuckled and his fly unzipped and the long-fingered hands that had handled the gun so competently weren't easing Rodney's dick out and stroking it before a hot, wet mouth swallowed him down, and--
Holy fucking shit.
It seemed that Sheppard was an expert at handling more than a 9mm. He seemed to know exactly where to lick and press his tongue in order to make Rodney twitch and gasp. Each time Rodney felt like he was close, Sheppard would pull back and concentrate on gently massaging Rodney's balls through his pants. Every few seconds he'd look up at Rodney through his ridiculously long eyelashes, smug and completely confident in his ability to play Rodney like a virtuoso.
Smug was usually Rodney's default, and he didn't appreciate it being co-opted, even by an incredibly skilled cocksucker. He grabbed Sheppard's hair, a little surprised when it wasn't stiff with gel, and shoved in until he could feel the back of Sheppard's throat. Sheppard didn't blink, and didn't even choke much; he closed his eyes and looked almost blissful while Rodney fucked his face.
"You do look good on your knees," Rodney said softly, reaching out and running his thumb along Sheppard's jawline. "And you seem to love having a hard cock down your throat. I'll have to keep that in mind."
Sheppard opened his eyes and glared at Rodney, but he didn't stop sucking. When Rodney slid his hand down to grip the back of his neck, Sheppard closed his eyes again and actually whimpered, and Rodney couldn't hold back any longer. He came hard enough to stumble, gasping as he tried not to trip over Sheppard.
Sheppard sat back on his heels for a moment before getting to his feet and stretching. "Your turn now."
Both of Rodney's eyebrows went up at that one. Sheppard scowled. "Yeah, you saved my ass out there, but I also slowed those Troll-guys down so they didn't all mob you at once. I think that should get me a little reciprocation--especially if you want to do this again."
Rodney did. "Fine," he snapped. "Lie down."
Sheppard grinned and flopped face-up on the bed, legs spread obscenely wide. Rodney stretched his fingers out, still in the gauntlets, and was amused to see Sheppard's grin slip.
"The gloves just help me channel and manipulate the radiation," he explained. "Your dick's not going to glow in the dark after this, don't worry. In fact..." He reached out and concentrated, bathing the two of them in a green glow which dissipated after a few seconds.
"What the fuck--" Sheppard sat up and nearly fell forward onto his face as he moved more quickly than he had just a minute ago. "Fuck!"
"Calm down," Rodney told him. "I've just accelerated our respective metabolisms. Think of it as meth, only without the addiction and the bad hygiene parts. It's perfectly harmless."
"You're not going to--I don't know, leak or anything, are you?" Sheppard asked as Rodney took the gauntlets off.
"What? No, don't be an idiot. If I didn't have my powers under complete control, I'd still be--" Rodney broke off before he could say, "in the Zig". That wasn't information Sheppard needed to know.
Sheppard frowned. "What?"
"Nothing. Not important." The buzz from the metabolic boost had kicked in for real. Rodney climbed up on the bed and positioned himself between Sheppard's legs. Sheppard had a nice cock--long and not too thin and easy for Rodney to wrap a hand around, and already hard. When Rodney stroked him a couple of times Sheppard twitched in a way that made him figure he was on the right track. Sheppard looked great like that, spread out and flushed, his perfect mouth slightly open. Seeing him squirm gave Rodney an idea. He reached down until he was resting two fingers on Sheppard's lower lip.
"You might want to get these wet for me," he said. Feeling Sheppard suck his fingers in and run his tongue over them as lovingly as he had Rodney's dick was almost as much of a rush as watching someone writhe as he barraged them with radiation. He was almost sorry when he decided it was time to pull his hand away, but Sheppard's moan when Rodney shoved his fingers into him was worth it.
'That's it...yeah..." He continued jerking Sheppard off, speeding up his strokes as he angled his fingers just right. Sheppard practically levitated off the bed when he came.
"Fuck..." Sheppard said when he got his breath back. "So I take it one of your superpowers is the ability to give a guy an amazing orgasm?"
Rodney smirked. "No, that's just natural talent."
"Bet that comes in handy, working for Arachnos."
Rodney froze. "I don't know what you mean. I told you--"
"You're an 'independent contractor'. I know." Sheppard sat up, watching Rodney through slightly narrowed eyes. "But I'm thinking a superhero wouldn't be so anxious to get out of Dodge before the cops showed up, and I doubt he'd be so quick to use his powers just to give someone a buzz during sex. If you're not a hero, then, stands to reason you're on the other side--and that means Recluse."
He'd left out the "Lord", Rodney noted, which could be ignorance, bravado, or a setup. "I've done some jobs for Lord Recluse, but I'm not an official member of Arachnos at the moment," he said carefully.
All of a sudden Rodney remembered something Sheppard had said right after the fight. He snapped his fingers. "You said 'My men usually call me Major' earlier--present tense."
Sheppard leaned forward. "Yeah, I did. I may have been 'involuntarily separated', as the Air Force puts it, but I always looked out for my men. Some of them decided they'd rather work for me than for the U.S. government, so now, I'm doing 'private security contracting'."
Rodney clenched his hands into fists; he was so excited he was shaking. "Mercenaries for hire."
"Exactly." Sheppard bared his teeth in something that wasn't really a smile. "I've been thinking about relocating to the Rogue Isles. I don't suppose you know anyone there who might be interested in a mutually profitable business arrangement, Doctor?"
With Sheppard and a small army at his side, Rodney could focus on his research, travel throughout the Isles without having to run from large groups of Wolf Spiders, Snakes, or other superpowered villains, and most likely enjoy mind blowing sex during the down times. It really was a no-brainer, even for non-geniuses.
"Major," he said, "I believe this may be the start of a beautiful friendship."
*****
Teyla Emmagen waited for five minutes after the lights in McKay's hotel room had gone off before packing up her equipment. Tonight's surveillance of the ambitious scientist had proved more useful than she could have anticipated--and since she could see into at least some of the myriad possible futures, she could anticipate a great deal.
Slinging her pack over one shoulder and gathering the shadows around her, she stepped off the fire escape and dropped five stories to the ground, landing silently. She was already composing the three different versions of her report: one for the Arbiters, another for the Fortunata Cabal, and a third for her own faction, the Night Widows. Once that was done, she could go and offer her services to Rodney McKay and John Sheppard. Together the three of them would be a match for anyone in Arachnos save Lord Recluse. And even he was not truly immortal....
Teyla vanished, teleporting herself back to the Isles, but the sound of her laughter lingered in the night.