Archive of Our Own ^beta

Johnny isn’t sure of what he was expecting from this.

In fact, he has no clue of what he wants. Rigid wants peace. Red Dog wants a brother. Savior wants to rest. He need not name the others and their goals; they overlap, and they’re being given to them. Fulfilled, despite the state of the world.

Rigid has her entire family around her, with one life left, but safe. Red Dog is finding support from Nameless, and is healing from his brother’s abuse, slowly but surely. And Savior has no urge to fight so fiercely. He may have lost many, but he still has Knight, as well as the rest of the Outers. There are no more walls between them, no teams. They’re all together now.

… And the human race is gone in their stead. They are the remnants of a dead and gone race.

That truth still haunts Johnny. It hadn’t hit him in the moment, when the barrier came down and Femto particles flooded what was protected. No, it had come some time after, in a conversation that… well, he has no need to recall it now.

“Area clear enough for me to land, Four?” He chirps, doing a small spin in the air. Been a while since he’s last flown for this long; suppose they chose a pretty remote location to hang out in. Makes sense, now that he thinks about it.

“Scanning.” She replies, and grants a proper answer near instantly. “The area is clear. An Arsenal is atop the cliff a hundred meters ahead. Proceed with caution.”

“Can’t you identify it?”

“Femto response is high. It could be any Outer.”

“Ah, right.” He sighs, kicking into Wing Shift as his destination becomes clear. He doesn’t doubt that they’re there. But why, that’s what Johnny is curious about. Not unusual for them to go off on their own for a while, which he thought was because they’re used to their independent status. But he suspects it to be more than that. Far more.

It’s not long before he sees it. In the distance, an arsenal stands, looking down upon a canyon. The stand at the edge of it, threatening to slip at any moment. But there’s hardly any reason to worry about that; if their stamina won’t get them out in half a second, their Blink ability will do the job just as well.

“Opening wide area communications channel.” Four hums, going ignored for now. Johnny can’t help but fixate upon the person that is now his superior. Some of the Outers like to claim that at least; they’re both of the same species at the end of the day. Still equals.

“Hey rookie!” He shouts as he draws close, doing a clean slide from air to land, stopping only when he’s a meter or two behind his peer. “Or, uh, should I call you Daemon now? Sorry, still tryin’ to get used to it.” His laugh is forced out, praying it eases the air a bit.

Daemon is still dead silent.

He swerves to the left a bit despite that, searching for the movement of their hands. They’ve all been picking up on sign language lately, as despite their recent… “changes,” to put it all lightly, has yet to offer Daemon the ability to speak. Whether they had it once, or have lacked it since birth, Johnny isn’t too sure.

“... Is your eye any good?” Now that was definitely some kind of battle scar. He’s not gonna theorize on that disability’s origin, since it’s something they appear to be a bit more sensitive about. But if they can recover the other half of their sight, he’ll be certain to throw some sort of celebration for that. So skilled with one eye, who knows what wonders they’ll work with their sight fully intact.

His question earns a nod, solemn but true. ‘It’s recovering a bit, I believe.’ They slowly sign to him, green and black arsenal carrying weapons only on their back as to not obstruct their ability to communicate. ‘Still blurry, but I think that once my eyes properly come in, they will be working.’

Johnny laughs, a bout of excitement striking through him. “That’s good! Just let us know if you need any help with… well, whatever you need!” He walks over, throwing his arm around his teammate’s neck. They stagger a bit, perhaps still not quite used to their new body. Johnny can’t say he’s too different, in that regard. “We’re all here for you Daemon. If you need anything, any of us are willing to help ya.”

After all, they’ve been incredibly kind about this whole situation, where they could be at least. After the initial wave of Femto particles washed into the human colonies, anyone that managed to survive was immediately taken in and now work to become Outers, just as they are. He recalls seeing Daemon and Grief get into a few spats about the plan, but eventually Grief realized the potential of such a thing, and began work on recovering as many arsenals as possible for these new Outers.

It’s not like they’ll survive their transformation outside of a proper shell, after all. Johnny can remember so clearly when he began what Grief likes to call “the next step in their evolution.”

“Are you… sure about all of this, Rookie?” Johnny had asked, voice laced with pain. Grief had already assured him such pain was natural, and that it would fade with time. He doubted that though. What’s natural about red rocks growing from your skin?

The Rookie only picked up their pace, urging him to do the same. They wanted him to re-enter his arsenal, and while he couldn’t figure out why at the time, he knew that Savior and Crow were spending a bit too much time in theirs lately.

He complies, despite his suspicions; he doesn’t trust Rookie unconditionally, but he cares for ‘em, and nothing's gonna change his feelings for them by now, as complicated as they are. Johnny is a bit surprised by how easy of a time they seem to be having with their own Femto intake. They have their growths; large red gems stick out of the top of their head, and yet more litter their skin. Yet they move as they had before all of this.

Hell, if he were more insightful then, he’d have noticed that they move even better, lacking any ounce of nervousness due to their blind spot.

‘I am very sure, Johnny.’ They had signed once finally by his arsenal. Its camo paint job is a bit chipped. Maybe after this he’ll get it redone. ‘We are just… taking a small flight. I know you have not been coping well with being cooped up, so…’

He had laughed at that. “Aww, Rookie! You-” a cough had taken his voice for a moment; Femto wasn’t exactly easy to breathe in all the time, “you didn’t have to d-drag me here without tellin’ me. I would’ve gone on a ride with you if you just asked.”

Johnny still recalls how they’d blushed at that. He misses small stuff like that a lot. ‘Just get in, okay? And…” they had paused in their rapid hand movements, hesitating on telling a truth he couldn’t comprehend at the time, “enjoy it. This may be your last time getting in for a while.’

He knew there was something more happening here. But at the time, the pain and fatigue brought on by the crystals making their home in his body made it too much of a hassle. At least he felt okay inside his arsenal, but… he thought he’d get surgery for his troubling development.

“Alright then, Rookie. I trust ya.”

Johnny didn’t expect to enter his arsenal, and never come back out again.

‘Grief is dead, Johnny.’

He snaps from his stupor, greeted by such confounding news. His recently developed mouth opens, sharp, metal teeth parted slightly in a bout of shock. “H-huh?” He steps back, gaze sweeping the area for a body. “Did… Daemon, did you-”

They shake their head, unfazed by the weight of the horn-like spikes of Femto that jut out from their head. ‘No. He said he wished for me to lead the Outers into their next stage of evolution. He said he had been thinking about how I defeated him all those months ago, and decided that his time here had come to an end.’

That’s… well, that’s frankly insane. Grief had never made much sense to Johnny, and he can’t say he’s terribly torn up about this news, but… he was one of the two that had been chosen by the Dominator. And on the topic of that pseudo-god… “What did the Dominator say about it?”

‘It did not stop him, but has yet to make a comment. I have requested it allow me to choose someone to replace him.’

Johnny sighs, relief flooding his robotic system. “That’s good.” He rubs one of the Femto crystals peeking out from his left arm as he mulls over that news; it’s a small tic he’s developed. As his sense of touch has become synced with his new body, the crystals actually feel surprisingly nice to touch. “Who’re you gonna choose? And, uh… where’s Grief’s body?”

They hesitate. Never a good sign. ‘He is… down there.’ They point to the tear in the earth, and a quick peek reveals a long drop into darkness. ‘He wished to die quickly, without intervention. He also doubted that it would be interfered with, but it was a precaution.’

“Huh.” Johnny huffs, putting a hand on his hip. “Well, good riddance I guess.” He glances back to the old leader of Terrors’ unofficial grave one more time, before abandoning it. They’re probably better off without him now, anyway. “Still haven’t answered my question, Daemon. Who’re you gonna rule with?”

He says that last part jokingly, but they’ll be a ruler, won’t they? Or if their society turns into something more religion-based, supposed they’ll be a Scion. Grief referred to them as such a few times, but it’s all pointless musing. Who knows how their society will evolve.

As long as it doesn’t end up twisted and fucked up, he’ll be cool with it.

As if it isn’t already, from what it will be built upon.

‘I have someone in mind.’ They flash a wide, sharp smile, thin slits for eyes peering at him with a clear shyness, one a shining green while the other glowd a ghostly white. ‘I want you to be by my side.’

It takes him a moment to take that in. “C-can you repeat that?”

They do so. And it is no trick of mind or sight; they want him to take the place of Grief. They want him to directly serve the Dominator, and lead the Outers onwards for who knows how long.

They want him to lead what’s left of humanity.

“... Are you sure, Daemon?” Johnny can’t help but ask. Just in case. “I m-mean, I’m sure someone like BG or Savior or Crow would be far better, I’m just… just some guy! Hell, I didn’t even get a nickname!” Of course, Brigadier General said he should keep it, but it still leaves him as the odd one out. The less skilled one of the group. The… well, the one that has nothing special about him.

But clearly they see something more in him, to deem him on their level. ‘Johnny, that is not true at all.’ They walk closer, quick to rid them both of the distance between them. ‘I trust you more than anyone else, to be honest. You are someone I have known since the beginning. And you are… you are someone I care for. A lot.’

The gentle bump of their head against his own is enough to make his nerves become aflame, and if his old body weren’t just a core for Femto to grow out from now, he’d certainly be blushing.

“... Y-yeah.” He stammers, and upon noticing their confused expression, he continues. “I-I accept! I don’t mind, um, spending my life with you!”

They laugh, and while it's a near silent, breathy sort of laugh, Johnny’s heart still flutters. ‘I am asking you to help me bear the weight of being the main communicator with a god, not asking for marriage.’ Again they grin, backing off. ‘We have yet to even go on a date.’

“Shut up.” He whines, taking to the air with a burst of his jets. “We’ll go on one… a-after all of this then! We still have to sort out the dissolving of all the consortiums, restructuring Orbital, starting-”

A metal finger rests over his mouth, stopping him short. He hadn’t even noticed them move up in front of him. ‘Calm down.’ They sign slowly, eyes narrowed with a mix of amusement and adoration. ‘We should head back and rest. But I need to know if you truly are okay with this. It is… a big responsibility, and I am aware of your ill feelings on the route we have gone…’

Ah. So they do know that. “I… okay, yes. I still don’t feel good about what we did.” It keeps him awake at night, thinking about what he agreed to. How many lives were lost. An impossible amount of people to grieve for, and he is one of their murderers. Have they seen all those nights of his tossing and turning? “Now, though, I think we can still keep going. We can’t let their lives have ended for nothing, ya know?”

They nod eagerly. ‘Yes, of course!’ Daemon nudges him gently, flying a meter away from him. ‘Now come on. The others are awaiting us.’

He nods. “Four, start a return sequence.”

“Beginning return sequence. Please wait.” She says back, surely having been there for their entire conversation. A tad invasive, but it’s not like he finds it annoying. Maybe it's better to have records of this meeting, too; who knows what could happen.

He glides down onto the rock a final time, gazing down into the abyssal tear in the rock formation they stand upon. “Are you… sure he’s dead, Daemon?” Johnny glances up at his new partner, shifting his weight nervously. “He’s not the sort of guy to just give up. I don’t think there’s really anything he’s planning, but… man, it’s just a bit unbelievable.”

Daemon merely shrugs, gazing out at the setting sun. ‘I do not really care about him now. He has done what he wanted, and I will do what I wish. We shall do what we wish.’

… Yeah. They probably are better without him, now. “All right.” He spares a glance towards the timer at the top of his vision. Ten seconds. “Then let’s go home, hm? It’s gettin’ kinda late, and I don’t wanna have to deal with Immortals and get repairs again.”

Daemon huffs, before nodding. ‘... Okay, Johnny.’

And then, the sun’s final rays for the day disappear.