jack and jill went up the hill
to fetch a pail of water.
jack fell down and broke his crown,
and jill came tumbling after.
She frowned when she saw his face on her datapad. His file photo was younger, much younger — there was less scaring and the bruising wasn’t so dark — but what struck her was his eyes. They were a clear, sharp blue. She felt like they cut right through her. Jituss tapped the datapad against her thigh, skimming over the rest of the mission details a little carelessly. It should be simple enough; an in-and-out job with the backing of a powerful mercenary. It just happened to be that mercenary was Jack Cody.
(jack x jituss, yzahi cameo; surprisingly safe for work??)
The air was thick with the smell of ozone from blasterfire and burnt flesh. She was crouched behind a collapsed cargo crate long enough to slap a kolto patch across singed blue flesh; the mercenary was still standing above her, his posture almost-slack and his blasters level as he picked off the targets one by one. There were too many and they both knew it. It should have been an in-and-out mission. It shouldn’t have been crawling with Black Sun mercs.
"The fuck is all this?" Jack snapped at her, crouching down to replace his thermal clip. She couldn’t see past his blacked-out visor, but she could hear the sneer in his voice. "This wasn’t part of the plan—"
They both jerked low as another grenade blast came too-close, too-hot near them. Jituss’ vision went white and her hearing was nothing more than a high-pitched whine. She could hear someone speaking — Jack? No. The Black Suns — and when she lifted her head again she heard a gruff, alien voice calling from across the way.
"—and we’ll fuckin’ leave, Agent. We don’t got nothin’ with you. Just give us Cody and we won’t kill you—"
She jerked a look aside. Jack was still dazed, the visor of his helm blown out. She could see one of his eyes through the shattered glass, blood red (no, they were blue once, you saw them) and narrowed on her; he knew. He was a dog: he could smell betrayal before it even happened. But did it even matter? He reached for her, but he was too clumsy and slow; she slipped out of his reach and pressed a clever smile onto his shattered helm. “Sorry, killer.”
Jack’s world was spinning. He saw her stand, almost heard her speak. The Black Suns lowered their weapons.
up jack got and home did trot,
as fast as he could caper;
and went to bed and bound his head
with vinegar and brown paper.
when jill came in how she did grin
to see jack’s paper plaster;
mother vexed did whip her next
for causing jack’s disaster.
Gloved hands hesitated over the bloody wreckage of Jack’s body, hovering but never touching; the hunter was alive but still smelled of death. Yzahi looked down at him impassively, his expression difficult to place. Jack was alive (he should not be alive) and in pain and oh the hatehatehate in his eyes was beautiful to look at.
The spook brought his leather covered fingers against Jack’s face, leaning down to taste the blood on his lips, familiar and human and warm. “Shiha,” he said, and he felt the hunter’s eyes focus on him again. Yzahi did not smile. There was a strange cold thing in his chest that he did not like, but it was there, hateful and strange and present. "Shiha."
Yzahi’s bloody scarred mouth pressed against Jack’s ear. “Yzahi,” he said carefully, slowly, “will bring you a present.”