A FEW BUMPS AND BRUISES // oneshot storage

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BRIGITTE.

låt proffsen sköta det här || speech || info

// here’s a oneshot of Brigitte practicing her conjuring powers just before sparring with Reinhardt back in Dungen just to get some creative juices flowing. this takes place some time before she was found in Ascendant territory

Another day in Dungen.
Brigitte woke from her slumber, passion burning in her heart, as was the norm for the spunky young lioness. She stretched, arching her back into the air, and inspected her flail for anything that could have harmed it during her sleep. The rats in Dungen were pesky creatures, gnawing at anything they could find with their sharp teeth. It’d be quite the bad news if Brigitte woke one day with a few wires cut.
She padded over to her Crusader friends, already awake and eating some meat that the caretakers left out for them to feast on. She sat down and pulled a steak for herself out of the pile of flesh. Beside her was the gargantuan, well-aged Reinhardt, a West African lion who led the Crusaders. She bowed her head in respect to her mentor. He returned the favor, bowing with a warm smile.

“Up for a little sparring, Reinhardt?”
Brigitte brushed her burnt red mane to the side, holding it in place with her hair clips. She stuffed the steak into her mouth, savoring every bite. She may have been a fit lioness, but she loved to eat. “My flail’s feelin’ a bit lonely. Perhaps you could acquaint it with your face.” Her and Reinhardt chuckled, his raspy laugh echoing across the Dungen territory.
“You’re on, Brigitte! Show me what you’ve been working on. I’ll go easy on you.” He winked at her with his blind eye, the parted battle scar on his eyelids meeting briefly. “This old lion still knows a few tricks.”

Brigitte and Reinhardt met in the middle of the Dungen sparring grounds and prepared for battle. The concrete floors of what was once a swimming pool was cold to the touch, chilling Brigitte’s large paws. Reinhardt was as stoic as ever, ready to watch his favorite apprentice impress him. ”Try to conjure your armor, Brigitte. You need a bit more practice with your powers. Remember to feel where your armor is with your mind. You do know where it is, right?”
Brigitte concentrated on the position of her armor and closed her eyes momentarily. Her armor was sitting in her den idly by, waiting for its knight to wear it. Brigitte looked back up at Reinhardt. ”Should I conjure my shield as well?”
”Focus, Brigitte! One at a time! You don’t want to stress out your mind.”
Got it.
Brigitte closed her eyes again, focusing on her ironclad garments. A fizzle of magic surrounded Brigitte, and the shape of her armor was slowly beginning to take form around her. She could feel her mind being worked at the core, energy building up and clouding her head with charge. ”Good job! Now, release the built up energy in your mind!”
Sweet release.
With a spark, the iron armor suddenly surrounded Brigitte, and she found herself nested inside her shell comfortably. The silver coat’s sheen reflected the sun’s light in a mesmerizing yet blinding fashion. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
”Excellent work, Brigitte! You’ve gotten much better at your conjuring powers. Your armor doesn’t look so bad either, like you’ve been diligently taking care of it. Your papa would be proud.” Reinhardt sneered jokingly. ”Too bad it’ll have a few scratches and dings once we’re done here!”
“You’re on, old man! Lemme just —“
Brigitte focused again on her den. Inside was her plasma shield, made by her father himself.
Suddenly a small shield-shaped aura appeared around Brigitte’s arm. Reinhardt looked at her proudly as she began to conjure.
Release.
The shield appeared, wrapped around her arm in all of its glory. “Okay, now I’m ready!”
Reinhardt chuckled loudly, conjuring armor of his own around him. Brigitte had forgotten how large of a cat he was with his armor on. It would be very intimidating, if only she didn’t know about the soft-hearted Crusader that wore the armor.
A large hammer and shield appeared in the arms of her opponent. Reinhardt’s helmet closed upon his head, preparing to engage Brigitte in combat.
”Let’s get this done!”

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iota

ナインイオタ [abbr="speech"]x[/abbr][abbr="self-reference; thoughts"]x[/abbr] info

// here's a oneshot of iota's experiences in the laboratory. slight gore warning.

Pain.

That was the only emotion felt by the young, mute feline who went by the moniker Nine Iota (9I). Another cold, treacherous dusk at the Laboratory, when all the scientists had already clocked out and went home to their families.
Ironic. How could the humans, who have such a passion for their loved ones, hold their own species above all, utilizing all other forms of life as a means to an end? As precious data? How could they stomach the torture of countless creatures such as herself and then go back to their dens and live a life of safety and security? The thought sickened her.

The coldness of the Nine cell chilled Iota to the bone. The harsh winter was relentless on the dull, steel walls of the Lab. In an attempt to conserve what little heat energy she had left, she coiled up weakly, her tail wrapping around her body to seal herself in.

Her horns had gotten a lot longer, unkempt and neglected. As she curled up, she felt them nick the topside of her pelt, trickling navy blood from her body. That wasn't the worst of her pain. Her shriveled up body could only last another week maximum without food, and her caretaker hadn't come to visit her in what seemed like years.

They'd probably been found out by the Agents. Iota let out a soft mew of vigil towards her unknown "friend," fearing the worst for them.

"Shut it, 9I." A sharp voice cut across the cell as it ricochet off of its grey walls and into her eardrums. On the other side of the cell were the other Nines. 9A, the first of the Nines to be created by the Agents, was the one telling her to silence herself. The others fell silent, their harsh gaze and smug maws pressing up against Iota, forcing her backwards into the steel walls. The other Nines felt no such pain as Iota did. They were different. Or, perhaps, she was different from them. They lacked the horns of her kind, and their blood shed scarlet. They lacked the blood of a Klaxosaur. "Just because you're a special test subject doesn't mean you can whine. The Agents created us to be the best fighters possible. And what are you? You're soft."

9A's harsh words sent fury down Iota's spine, but what could she do about it? She couldn't fight them. It'd only be a losing battle; their state is much healthier than her own, and she'd be outnumbered by the rest of her cellmates. 9A snorted. "Your 'Klaxosaur genes' mean absolute shit. You may have the weapons of a predator, but you have the soul of prey."

Despite her rational thinking beforehand, her concealed primal behavior got the best of her; she leaped towards the other side of the den, targeting 9A for slaughtering. If she were to go down a sick, starved mess, she'd have to take someone down with her. She wanted to send a message to the other Nines with a dying breath: she was not soft, and she would not hesitate to kill.

Her air circulation was cut, her lungs constricted, and her motion stopped dead in its path. The rusty chain-link collar that'd been stuck around her neck sent her flying back towards her side of the cell, strangling her briefly. The other Nines laughed as she struggled, getting back on her feet and coughing loudly, finally getting a rein on her breathing.

Several dark shadows cast over Iota's frail body. The other Nines surrounded her, smug grins and soulless eyes filling their gazes on her. 9A cut through the crowd of the other Nines, placing himself front and center before her. He unsheathed a single claw, holding it right at her carotid artery, her death a single swipe away. She bent her head down, trying to avoid 9A's sharp talon as much as possible.

"It seems the rest of the Nines have had enough of your presence here, demon, and they've made the decision to rid you from this wretched world. Give me one reason why I shouldn't open your neck with my claws, spilling your blood and putting on a performance for the Agents over the cameras."

A stern, lifeless stare appeared on Iota's face, the shade giving her visage a menacing tone. She said nothing to the ace, only wishing death upon him and the rest of his cohorts. "Hah. As mute as your primal self will make you, I see. Until you've learned to control your primal state, you're nothing to the Nines, or to any of the Agents. The only thing you're good for is carrion for the rest of us." 9A's claw began to sink into her neck, ready to cut open the artery he'd targeted to kill the weak link. He licked his maw disturbingly, his sharpened fangs beginning to show. "I've never tasted the blood of a demon before."

Iota lurched her head forward.

The only sounds heard afterwards were the screams of agony coming from 9A, jolting backwards and covering his eyes with his golden paws. Scarlet poured from his eye sockets, his eyes sliced open by Iota's sharp horns. Mirroring him was Iota's cold, dead stare, watching him writhe with pain as the blood streamed down her crimson horns and coated her face with red. She licked the trickle of blood without breaking eye contact -- or lack thereof -- with 9A, the taste of victory filling her mouth. He again faced her, his legs trembling and his body weakening from losing already liters of blood. "You... You're a fucking monster!"

There, Iota cracked a smug grin, not too different from the ones the Nines were giving her earlier as her pained mews garnered her a mocking crowd. She suppressed a laugh at the injured Nine for his pained complaint.

"How ironic."

9A's scream cracked, scattering around the room with deafening force and irritating the ears of the cell's inhabitants.
"I will end you!" Before attempting to leap towards Iota to seal her doom in a flurry of claw swipes, 9A was stopped by his cohorts, holding him back as they feared he would hurt himself more in an attempt to attack Iota blindly. One of the other Nines, 9B, shot her a cold look.
"This isn't over. Watch your back, demon."

The young, primal Iota licked her paw, satisfied with her victory. Now, only her battle with survival had yet to be won.


// this is the most cliched thing i've ever written oops