Futuristic Rage against the dying of the light (fru x arcsteel)

[arcsteel]

Fucking hell. This man and his bloody charms. He had her wanting to lean in for another hug, even closer than before. The way he said her name, being unbearably soft and then topping it all with humor. The ladies must have been all over him back at that Eden-place, if they were even allowed to be all over each other. However, Ripley knew what a shitshow it would be if she didn’t shove down all of those thoughts so deep they became hidden to even herself. That’s why she too was blinded with how they must have looked; standing close and having a deeply genuine conversation.

“Maybe I don’t mind a little trouble, if it’s worth it,” Rip said with a grin, almost rolling away the glint in her eyes as her shoulders bobbed with a silent chuckle. What he said did throw her off a bit though. As the thought caught up to her, her expression slowly died.

“Did he say anything today? I mean, do I have reason to make an effort to avoid him?” Rip asked quietly. Since Silas brought it up, perhaps he had reason to be extra worried this evening. If anyone could take a beating, it was her, but she’d rather not if she could help it. Especially coming from Eric. It wasn’t so much the pain of it, but the humiliation. It didn’t really matter if he backhanded her in the face or made a fool out of her in front of everyone. It felt the same.

 

[Fru]

That soft smile curved into an amused smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilted his head. He was about to continue down that path, but when her expression shifted into something, more serious, his own softened in response.

“No,” he said after a pause, exhaling gently. “I just… worry about you. About him.” His brow furrowed, and for a moment he looked like he realized how that sounded.

“What I mean is—after seeing him today. The way he leads, how he looks out for his team…” Another pause, this one longer. “Just… be careful, okay?” His hand dropped from her shoulder, but before it fell away completely, his fingers brushed lightly under her chin. The frown eased, replaced by a softer smile.

“I’ll sleep better knowing you are.”

 

[arcsteel]

Ripley’s shoulders relaxed at that No. For a moment, she’d thought Eric had riled himself up, or perhaps Spoon had provided his assistance, to paint her in a bad way despite her absence during today’s mission. Perhaps her attempt to soothe Eric the day before had buried whatever revenge-hatched he carried around, engraved with her name. She’d never be obsequious with the bastard, but perhaps a little flattery would make her position within the team more pleasant. The risk in that would be giving Eric ideas.

Her calm gaze went on to blink in question when Silas continued to express his worry. She didn’t know what to say, but as he went on after a pause, she wished she had said something. Anything. His words. His touch. It left her speechless—just staring at him. Sure, she’d flirted a little bit, but it had been subtle. And she never expected Silas to pick up on it.

Finally, Rip came back to reality. “I—eh. Um… Y-yeah. I will—” she stuttered, eyes not knowing where to focus. Anywhere but his gaze seemed a good enough spot. “Goodnight!”

Awkwardly, she patted his arm before hurrying down the corridor, retreating to the infirmary. Doc was doing a check up on one of the other’s, but wrapped it up pretty quickly when he saw the stark red cheeks on her. Accompanied with her distans gaze, he worried she might be getting sick at first, but after a quick examination his eyes narrowed.

“Be careful, Rip,” he said in an even lower tone than his usual deep voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she muttered and started scavenging for painkillers to help her get through the night.

She stayed in his room until her eyelids felt like lead, and only then did she sneak back into her sleeping quarters. As silent as possible, worried she might wake Silas up and have another awkward moment, she changed into her sleeping garments and climbed up the ladder. When she slipped under her cold covers, a loud snore had her startled. With a shake of her head, she noticed Rex sleeping on his back on the bottom bed across the room.

“Good for you, Rex,” she whispered, barely audible. “At least you’re getting some sleep.”

 

[Fru]

The following days, the team kept a low profile. Drone activity had spiked after the attack on the server hall and phase one. Phase two of the mission mostly involved Ren’s dark circles growing deeper by the hour as she ran programs, trying to decrypt the intercepted transmissions—at least those who weren’t in binary. A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung outside her door—something that had started as a team-made joke but now was a legit warning.

While the scouts stayed busy in the field, the rest of the team was stuck in a loop of repairs, prep, and waiting. The dining area had turned into a communal workspace: mission plans, gear, scattered devices, and the buzz of quiet conversation. Silas continued assembling and refining tech under Kai’s vague supervision—though Kai was asleep most of the time.

Today was no different. With Kai dozing in a chair beside him and Spoon perched on the table, mid-ramble about his beloved motorcycle, Silas focused on soldering his fifth circuit board of the day.

“Chipped the exhaust to sound like an old war chopper,” Spoon said proudly. “Neighbors hate it—but the chicks love it.” He snickered. “You ain’t a real man till you’ve hit 220 on an old Blackline with no stabilizers and only one brake.”

Silas chuckled, keeping his eyes on his work. “Damn. Guess I’m not a real man then.”

Spoon let out a laugh. Then, with a snap of his fingers and a glint in his eye, he pointed at Silas. “When we get back to Dawn, I’m takin’ you bike shopping. We’ll take ‘em for a spin—pick up some girls. And with your face card?” A low whistle. “Front of the line, all the clubs.” He shook his head in delight, sighing longingly before he scanned the dining area. A low groan left him. “The women here are so damn dull.”

Then his eyes landed on Rip. A wicked grin crept across his face. “She’s nice though. That attitude’s a hard minus, though. Makes her a… seven.”

Silas finally looked up. He opened his mouth to say something, only to pause, gaze shifting as Eric rose from a nearby table.

“Ripley. A word?” Eric called, already moving toward her. His tone was calm, but there was tension in the way he moved.

“Oh no, man—don’t go down that road,” Spoon muttered with a wheeze, low enough only for Silas to hear. They exchanged looks, grinning briefly. Silas dropped his gaze back to his circuit board—but that grin lingered. He remembered how she'd reacted to a simple touch the other night, stuttering like it had short-circuited her. It had been… amusing.

His smile faded as he glanced back up, also remembering how Eric was prone to treat Rip, and a faint crease formed between his eyebrows. Watching Eric close the distance to Rip, Silas noticed the tightness of his jaw—not with command, but hesitation. Nervous?

“I want to talk to you about the upcoming phases,” Eric said. Yeah, sure you do. That sounded like bullshit.

 

[arcsteel]

There were three reasons why Ripley kept her head low in the following days. First; she actually listened to Silas’ words about being careful. Not that she actually cared if he was worried or not. His feelings were his responsibility. However, in doing so, Eric stayed off her back. She usually made an effort not to antagonise him, but avoiding him turned out to be the golden key.

Secondly; Rip knew they’d need her in the last phases of the operation, so she needed to heal quickly. Even if it bothered her, she didn’t work out. Maybe a few sit ups, but that was it. Doc also gave her a shot that would make her heal faster. He’d told her about the research behind it, how rare and expensive it was, and the reasons why it worked, but she couldn’t be bothered to save that kind of information inside her memory. Did it make sure she'd get back on track faster? Yes. Then that’s all she needed to know.

The third reason had to do with Silas. She tried her hardest to keep things casual, but found herself looking at him for a second too long sometimes. Avoiding any more hugs or late night conversations felt like the right thing to do, even if she was prone to let her eyes wander—and sometimes forgot herself by dragging him somewhere.

On this day, Rip kept herself busy assembling the last of her explosives. She sat at the other end of the dining area from Silas and Spoon, who started getting irritatingly comfortable around each other. She could only hear them when Spoon laughed, or when their voices grew louder. Maybe a word here and there, but otherwise it was lucky for them she didn’t catch their conversation.

Rip bit into her lower lip, smiling at a cylinder device in between puffing on her vape. Shrouded in a vague cloud of smoke, she carefully placed two glass tubes into the cylinder, each containing different liquids. Apart they were harmless, but together? Boom. She only looked up when an ominous voice reached her ears. Eric.

The wicked joy in her brown eyes snuffed out instantly. What did he want now?

“Sure,” she said with a tight, pushed up smile. His rigid posture, making no move to sit, made it clear he wanted her to join him somewhere else. It wasn’t without raising her pulse in suspicion. With meticulous movements, Rip replaced her things on the table as she stood.

“Follow me,” Eric said, heading for the doors.

“No one touches my stuff,” Rip shouted, pointing at every single person in the dining area. “Or we’re all dead, and that is not an exaggeration!”

She then followed in Eric’s footsteps, but when they got out in the corridor, he decided to walk beside her instead. It felt so odd Rip didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Are you up for joining the next phase? I talked to Doc about it, and he said you might. If you’re feeling well.”

Rip didn’t know how to act, and it probably showed. “I mean, yeah. You know I’m game in any condition. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked, frowning a bit.

 

[Fru]

Watching them leave the dining area, the crease between Silas’ brows deepened. His gaze dropped back to the circuit board in his hands. Spoon resumed rambling about motorcycles and women, oblivious to the slight shift in Silas’ expression.

As Spoon carried on, Silas flicked another glance toward the door. If Eric was going down that road, the calm, steady front he’d kept up the last few days might crack. And if he cracked—well, that could put the whole operation at risk.

Spoon said something idiotic, then burst out laughing. Silas gave a quick chuckle in return, looking up at him.
“Ouch! Fuck—” Silas hissed, suddenly recoiling and dropping the soldering iron. He stuck his finger in his mouth, then clenched it in his hand. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed up from the chair.

Spoon blinked at him with a stupid face. “What happened?”

“I fucking burned myself,” Silas muttered. “I’ll go see Doc.”

---

“Yeah, well, just ‘any condition’ isn’t good enough,” Eric shot back, irritation flaring in his voice. He caught himself a moment later and with a deep exhale, he rubbed the back of his neck, composing himself. “I just need to know you’re fit to be in the field. That you’re not going to compromise the mission.”

He slowed, gaze flicking sideways. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been avoiding me.” As they rounded the corner, he caught her wrist, but firm enough to make her stop.

He turned to face her, jaw set tight. “Hey. I thought, the other night—you’d changed your mind. That maybe you missed what we had. That we could go back to it.”

 

[arcsteel]

Rip was about to tell him she wouldn’t compromise anything. Deep down she knew he trusted her, because he, if anyone, knew there was no stopping her, and he knew how well she performed. But she didn’t get a word out before he grabbed her when they went behind a corner, and a sharp but small gasp escaped her. Shit.

Shit didn’t even cover what came out of his mouth. At first, she’d thought he was about to reprimand her in some way. Now she wished he had. Rip just stared at him, eyes wide and lips ajar.

“Eric, I—” A pause, to find the wisest thing to say. She needed to tell him off, while not upsetting him. An impossible task with a low success rate. She shook her head, gently trying to wrench free of his grasp. “We’ve talked about this. I was just trying to soothe you, not lead you on. I’m sorry if I gave other signals, but I just wanna be friends.”

A lie. Who would want to be friends with him, except Spoon?

Eric’s grip around her wrist tightened, and his gaze upon her went dark. Fucking hell, here we go.

“Rip, you have to admit we were great together. Imagine the power couple we could be. Why do you have to be so fucking mean? The only person you think about is yourself. You’re toying with me. Making it hard to concentrate while you’re around. But I think I know why.”

He started backing her up against the wall, and Rip’s nostrils flared as her breath mirrored the creeping feeling grabbing hold of her. “Why?”

Eric’s voice dropped to a tender whisper. “Because you still have feelings for me.”

“You hit me!” Rip snapped. She’d heard much shit in her days, but this was too far. He would not be allowed to get a wedge in, thinking she’d ever take him back.

“Let’s just put all our mistakes behind us—”

“Mistakes? You fucking hit me. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. So, no, Eric. I’m done with you,” she interrupted, shocked at his idiocy. In response he slammed his hand to the wall next to her head. Rip winced, sure he would have hit her. Neither of them had heard the doors open down the corridor, too caught up in this mess.