El Scorcho (twbasketcase) wrote,
El Scorcho

Fic: Hostile Takeover 7/18

Category: X-Force
Characters: X-Force -- Shatterstar, Siryn, Sunspot, Rictor, Cannonball, Domino, Warpath, Cable, Boomer, Moonstar, Feral, Magma, and Deadpool.
Pairings: Domino/Cable, Sunspot/Magma. Minor Warpath/Siryn/Deadpool and Cannonball/Boomer, and eventually Rictor/Shatterstar.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance
Rated: NC-17 for extreme violence, language, dark themes, sexual situations (het and slash), and character death.
Disclaimer: I don’t own a damn thing; I’m just playing for awhile.
Summary: A well known terrorist organization has made its move, and its dictatorship starts with the fall of the country’s greatest heroes. A few make it out alive, but they are on the run and in for the fight of their lives. Who lives and who dies? And where do you go when there’s no where left to hide?
Chapter Summary: Shatterstar has some reservations after his conversation with Siryn, and Roberto realizes that it's time to cope.

Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six,

A/N: Graphic sexual situation in this chapter.

Rage surged through him; rage for himself, the world, his friends, everything. It was a familiar emotion to him, unlike some of the others he had been struggling with the past few days, but now it was beginning to consume him.

Shatterstar had maintained control over his demeanour throughout the entire invasion. As a warrior, he took great pride in his self control and the way he was able to refrain from allowing outside matters blind him in time of battle. However, that was no longer the case. For the first time in nearly two weeks he was beginning to unravel. They were backed into a corner and hiding like cowards, and now his best friend was most certainly going to die. Shatterstar did not like to feel helpless, and even worse, he did not like to feel scared.

Warriors never felt fear.

But now he did. He feared that he would lose someone close to him, and the fact that the emotion was unwillingly picking away at him caused his rage to grow. Very few instances in his short life had ever caused him fear, and when he felt it he was unsure of what to do. The very first idea in his mind was to go out and find the HYDRA agents and just cancel them once and for all. On his own he could cause more damage -- let loose. He would kill them all viciously, calculate and analyze many different ways to cancel every last one of them. Spill their blood. Remove their limbs. He would tear them apart piece by piece and he would not stop until every single one of them met their death. In his mind, destroying such cowardly and unjust rebels would be most honourable and deserved.

However, he knew the others did not agree. They killed only if needed, and they never desired the feelings of guilt and shame that came with it. His team wanted to plan tactics and lead a defensive assault. That way, lives were spared and strategies could be discussed at greater length. And at first, Shatterstar had agreed. The Cadre warrior was not a leader, instead, he was a soldier who took his orders and strictly obeyed them. He knew deep down that allowing Rictor and Siryn to rest while they took defensive approaches was the most intelligent thing to do. However, warrior instincts and old habits began to creep up on him. Their time was running out, and now all he could think of was ways to take up a full fledged frontal assault. So badly he just wanted to leave his friends in the hands of a trained medical professional so that he could avenge their treatment, injuries, and deaths. His thirst for blood spiked, and sitting in the cold corner of a cave watching the one person he cared about deteriorate made him absolutely stir crazy.

He wanted to stab someone. Kill them. Tear them from limb to limb only until their agonized screams ended. He did not know anything else.

However, such behavior was not only stupid, but it was not accepted as appropriate human response and action. Such lengths he had taken to assimilate human nature and lifestyle since his stay on Earth, and he felt shame that it now seemed to be unraveling. There was no honour in allowing himself such defeat during dire times. His survival techniques and training were needed by the others, as they had not such experiences as he. But he was not a very good teacher, nor did he think he was any good at setting a positive example. When he had experienced similar lifestyles on Mojoworld it had been by choice; fleeing the pens and living off of the land for two of his years had been a decision that he had made based on the fact that he wanted freedom from slavery. At that time he was on his own though and he neither had no one else’s well being or life to think about, nor did he have anyone he cared enough about to even want to fear for. He was able to kill shamelessly when needed and many risks were taken. At that time, death was better than being captured once more, and he would have gladly died fighting to prevent being brought back. Risks were taken everyday, and many days he should have been dead.

Now such risks would be a liability to his team. They did not have healing like he did, and there would be no honour in their deaths. They would not die for freedom, instead they would fight for it. That was an honourable enough cause for him to respect their wishes.

Death was nipping at their heels, however. For the first time in Shatterstar’s life, he feared it too. Any given day he would stare it in the face and laugh; his life was not worth much and as long as he died fighting it would be an excellent end. But there was nothing at all honourable about Rictor having to suffer and deplete on a filthy ground without a fighting chance. Of them all, the Mexican had hardly taken any drastic measures in the war; he did not like to kill people, and was lukewarm about such things. Such behaviours and morals had always both intrigued and horrified Shatterstar; Julio had been brought up much differently than he, and even though the warrior did not quite understand the Mexican’s fears, his reasons did make sense. But now it seemed to be such a waste. Rictor spent his life hating death and guns and war, and now he was going to be a casualty of one.

It made Shatterstar’s rage grow.

Sitting beside him on that ground did not help either. Julio had once again drifted away in slumber, and the warrior was plagued with thoughts. Siryn had just discussed with him the repercussions of emotional attachment to his friend, yet he still felt lost on the matter. Best friends were allowed to care for each other in such ways, she had said, yet she also claimed it was sometimes not a good idea. How was it he had gained such feelings anyway? He feared it may only be because of circumstances, but drastic situations had never forced him into such emotions before this. He had been in fights where his best friend had been blown up, shot at, attacked, and knocked out, and all those instances had brought up rage, but never affections. Why was now different? Why, of all times for him to be so conflicted and confused, did it have to be during one of the biggest wars of his life? It infuriated him that such distractions were happening, and he worried that they would prevent him from taking proper precautions with his friend’s life.

The Mexican sighed in his sleep and rolled onto his side; silver eyes followed the movements and narrowed as Shatterstar watched him. The tanned face was contorted with pain, and seemed to visualize all of the ache and grief ‘Star seemed to be feeling. Was it really wrong for him to wish he could remove the pain for his friend? The entire situation would be so much easier for him if only he just had Rictor in a position to help explain things to him; now was just not a good time while he had health to focus on.

Sighing, the warrior brought his hand down to Julio’s hair and he glared angrily at the wall of the cave adjacent to them. He had not been lying when he told Siryn that he was going to take him and leave. He was ready and willing to fight; Shatterstar needed Rictor to be better right now.

Across the room, the said redhead was speaking into the comm device that had activated a few moments prior. Easily Shatterstar’s hearing was able to pick up on the voices; Siryn was speaking with Domino, and the conversation did not particularly grab 'Star’s attention until the words ‘pleasant news’ were heard.

“Good news?” Siryn looked up at the warrior as she spoke into her radio and swallowed. “What did ye guys find? Did ye find Cable?”

No,” Domino spoke curtly. “We still haven’t heard from them. We have HYDRA on our tail though everywhere we fucking go, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe that does have something to do with Nate’s team.”

Terry’s eyebrows pinched inward. “What do ye mean? Ye think they--?”

We don’t know,” Domino cut her off. “All I know is that something isn’t right about it, and we just have to take every possibility into consideration.”

Terry sighed, but tried to hide her annoyance. “So what’s the good news then?”

How’s Rictor holding up?”

“Nae good,” Terry whispered. “We do nae know how much longer we can go without some help.”

Well we might be in luck,” Shatterstar definitely perked up at that, and stood from his place to approach Theresa. Domino continued. “We got across the border last night and into Manitoba. Jimmy ran a lot of the way and Sam flew the two of us to a little place a couple hundred kilometers west of you guys.”

Terry smiled. “A place? Like a hospital?”

Kinda,” Dom replied. “It’s a safe house. A bunch of mutants have set up shop there and are taking in hideaways. There was a doctor there and he’s been fixing up people who were hurt by HYDRA.”

“Yuir serious?! They can get him some meds even!?”

Far as I know; they were even getting mutants with healing factors donating blood. It seemed like a totally legit op too.”

Terry let out a relieved sigh and grinned up at Shatty. “That’s good news, Dom. How long are ye goin’ tah be though? We dinnae think that he has very long.”

We’re on the move as we speak. We’re heading your way and we should be there by tomorrow.”

“Thank the Lord,” Terry sighed. “That is the best thing we’ve heard all week.”

Domino snorted humorlessly. “Yeah, you’re telling me. Anyways, we just wanted to let you guys know to stay put and that we’re on the way. We’ll do our best to shake this trail that’s been on us, but don’t be surprised if we haul your asses up and get you moving as soon as we show up. We don’t want to risk another fight.”

“Aye, sounds good,” Terry nodded despite the merc being unable to see it. “We’ll be packed and ready to go by mornin’.”

Be safe, and we’ll see you kiddies later, all right?” Dom assured. “Don’t kill each other before we get there,” she added just because.

“Right,” Terry laughed. “Charlie out.”

Beta out.”

The redhead grinned tiredly and placed the comm link back into the supply bag beside her. Her demeanour was much more uplifted than it had been in the past few hours, but Shatterstar still had his doubts. “I do not know if I like this.”

“What do ye mean?!” she sighed in exasperation. “Ye heard her, Shatty, he’ll be fine.”

“How do we know it’s not a trap?” he questioned her, rubbing his chin.

“It’s hope, and that’s all we can be thankful for,” she scolded him, and got to her feet. “Besides, Domino would nae lead us intah somethin’ like that. She’s always been good tah us, and ye of all people should know that.”

“I do,” he agreed. “But I still have my suspicions-- not against her, but of the safe house. The invasion has only reached Canada in the past week, and I am just surprised such a place has been set up in such a short amount of time.”

Terry sighed and pushed her hand through her hair. “I know it sounds strange, ‘Star, but at this point we dinnae have any other choice. Ye said Ric needed help, and now he’s gonna get it.”

Shatterstar looked over his shoulder at his friend on the ground and narrowed his eyes. “Good. He needs better than what I can give him.”

“Ye did well,” she assured him, placing a small hand on his forearm. “He would nae have made it this far without ye.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “That's not enough. Those soldiers need to die, and I will not be content unless their heads are removed by the blade of my sword. Once he is better off, I will have you know that I intend on going on the offensive.”

“Ye will do what yuir told tah do,” she narrowed blue eyes right back, seemingly unafraid of his threats. “Now is nae the time tah be gettin’ big headed. I’ve relied on ye thus far to help me get the team through this, and yuir the last person I need going haywire on me, Shatty. I need ye.”

He glared angrily, and clenched his fists. “I grow tired of hiding, Theresa!”

“And ye don’t think I do too? If’n ye want tah go rogue on us, I cannae stop ye. But there is no benefit tah ye or anyone else,” she folded her arms and stepped away from him. “But I’d expect better from a warrior like ye.”

He sighed angrily, knowing she was right. “I will fight with you.”

“I know ye will,” she nodded.

He turned away, resisting the urge to unsheathe weapons and destroy something. Rictor was getting help, so why was he still so agitated? It was what he wanted, yet something in his gut was telling him it was not a good idea. But Shatterstar knew and accepted the fact that he was not the leader, and he did not get to make the decisions. Terry pulled rank on him, and Domino had it on them both. They would bring Rictor to the safe house, and there he would get the treatment he both needed and deserved.

But that would not be done without Shatterstar standing watch over him.

“You know, I have always wanted to go to France.”

Roberto smiled, and folded his hands behind his head. “Then I’ll take you there, amor.”

Amara grinned happily and smoothed out the dress she held up against her body. “It’s just so, I don’t know, special, you know? The pictures and the television make it look so magical.”

“It is,” he told her. “There are lights, sights, and so many places to dance and eat. I think you’d love it.”

“Me too,” she replied, and spun around to face him. “What do you think about this dress?”

“I’m happier with what you’re wearing,” he confessed.

She dropped it onto the bed and placed her hands on her hips. “I certainly cannot go out in public in just my underwear, Mr. DaCosta.”

Roberto could not wipe the grin off of his face. “Sure you can; I wouldn’t object.”

“Perhaps the rest of the team would,” she laughed. “Besides, would you really want me looking that way with all those guys around?”

“Puh-lease,” he scoffed playfully, and spread his arms out to her when she crawled up the mattress toward him. “They don’t have anything on me, and besides, you’re all mine, remember?”

Blue eyes twinkled playfully when she stopped above him, nose to nose. “But of course.”

He could only smile in return before pressing his mouth gently against hers. It warmed his heart to feel her smile against his lips, and quickly he was drowning in her kiss. She was so warm against him, and combined with the sweet smell of her perfume, Roberto could think of nothing more heavenly. There in his bed, with only her straddling his hips and holding his face in her hands, there was no other place he would rather be. With her, the rest of the world only turned and went by without them.

She was all that mattered to him.

Dark toned hands ran teasingly around her thighs and toward her back. Her skin was smooth and flawless beneath his fingers, and he made it a point to run his fingers over every perfect curve along the way. They stopped when they reached the lacy green material of her bra, and he easily snapped open the hooks. She sighed contentedly at the release, and pulled away to look at him.

“Those are awfully busy hands you have,” she teased. He only smiled in return and traced his fingers along the material until he was able to slip his hand underneath to cup a breast.

“Are you complaining?”

“Never,” she smiled, and quickly kissed him again before pulling the garment off completely. Roberto openly admired the sight of her, and reached his free hand up to cup the other breast. Her blue eyes fluttered closed at the contact, and she leaned into him. “Especially not if you are taking me to France,” she lulled.

He could not stop the laugh from escaping his lips. “You’re so spoiled.”

“You love it,” she inched an eye open, and reached her own hands down to tug at the waistband of his boxer briefs. With the lovely view of her body and the playful hands, it did not take Roberto long to harden. Just taking Amara in was enough to turn him on so much it nearly pained him. Once they were past that point, he was practically mush in her hands.

And she knew it too. Smiling fondly, she slid his shorts down his thighs and stole a few drawn out caresses along his skin with her fingers. He worked on getting her panties off as she moved, and only a few short seconds later they were both nude. Amara spread her thighs over either side his hips, and the heat radiating from her body nearly made him shiver against her flesh.

“C’mere,” he murmured, fingers traveling through blonde locks before settling against the back of her skull. She complied, leaning down so their mouths connected once more. They just massaged lightly at first, loving and caring before turning into something deeper. Her soft tongue trailed the swell of his bottom lip teasingly, and he was quick to chase it back into her mouth with his own. They playfully pursued each other between their lips as hands roamed and explored. They already knew every inch of one another’s skin, but it was never reason for them to stop. He would be able to cover every exposed area of her skin and more with his lips and hands repeatedly, and he knew he would never grow tired of it.

His free hand circled her breast again and massaged the wonderful flesh. The contact forced a moan to escape her, and she shifted her hips against him. Both of them grinded against each other, so close to being inside her, but touching was okay too. He was relaxed and patient with her, and at that point in their relationship he just took the time to enjoy it. There was no need to rush or act in desperation, only love. It was what she deserved, after all.

“Mmm, Bobby,” she whispered against his lips, and slid her hand over the one fondling her breast. Roberto smiled and tweaked her nipple between his index finger and thumb, and she squeaked. “Hey you!”

He laughed and did it again, adoring the response. She shifted her hips once more, and he could feel her heat against his cock. Pressing his lips against hers, he reached down between them to maneuver himself inside of her, and she complied easily. Completely enveloping him in warmth, Amara sighed as she slid down his length. “I love you,” he told her.

“Eu te amo,” she murmured in return, and rocked slowly against him. Blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, and full, pink lips pressed tightly together as she tossed her head back and took him in. Against the glow of the afternoon sun beaming through his bedroom window, she looked incredible; golden and warm like the fiery aura of her mutant namesake. She was like a goddess in his eyes, and felt just as decadent.

And once they found a rhythm they rocked together, moving in perfect sync and harmony. Roberto trailed his hands down her stomach and along the swell of her hips, holding her in place as she slid along him. A thumb traced along the jutting curve of the bone there, and his fingers spread around the side of her ass, kneading and massaging gently.

“Bobby,” she whispered happily, and he arched beneath her.

“Bobby,” she sighed, and he pushed his head back and grinned.

“Bobby,” she moaned, and he mimicked and groaned as well.

“Bobby,” she repeated, and that time it wasn’t right.

Something was wrong.

Brown eyes shot open and Roberto stopped moving to look at her. Blue eyes were round and widened in fear, and she stared down at him helplessly. “Bobby!” she forced out, and that time it was followed by a horrifying wave of crimson red splashing between her lips. Blood sputtered from her mouth and covered the bare flesh of his chest.

“Amara!” he screamed, and scrambled to help her. She collapsed limply off of him and rolled onto her side, clawing at the gigantic holes blasted through her chest. The skin was frayed and blown open as though she had been the victim of an ambushed assault. Machine guns probably; Uzis or maybe an assault rifle, he did not know, but she was bleeding everywhere. So much blood painting the formerly perfect skin, and pale eyes stared up at him.


“Amara!” he wailed and cradled her body, desperately trying to hold and save her. He needed to save her…she needed to live; he would not be able to go on without her.


Roberto jolted and sprang forward, eyes snapping open and itching frantically when met with the bright glow of flame. The air was cold where he lay, but he felt ridiculously hot. Sweat covered his face, leaving his hair damp against his forehead, but most notable was the slam of his heart in his chest; he felt as though he had just been pushed into a pool of ice cold water.

“Bobby! Are ye okay?” a concerned voice filled his ears, and was followed by a slender hand on his back. The Brazilian dropped his face into his hands, and fought to will the images of his dream from his mind.

“Mãe do Deus,” he whispered shakily.

“What happened, boyo? Ye were thrashin’ in yuir sleep like ye were bein’ attacked!” Terry moved closer to him and tilted her head to the side. “Are ye all right?”

Roberto felt his chin wobble before a few stray tears trailed down his cheeks. “Meu amor…Deus…é ida” he replied shakily and sniffed. “Eu estou sozinho…”

“Oh Bobby,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to hug him. He wanted to so badly protest the touch; no one should have been able to touch him if Amara could not, but the comfort could not be pushed away. He wanted…and he needed. He so badly craved everything to be okay and right again that he could not protest her. In a fit of sorrow, Roberto curled his arms around Theresa’s waist and dug his face into her shoulder. The tears came freely for the first time since he lost Amara.

He missed her so badly that he could not compare it to any single thing he had ever experienced. Sorrow and grief consumed him, and he could not stop the agonized sobs from racking his body if he tried. Terry only hushed him, and rubbed a hand up and down his back. So vulnerable and raw and exposed he felt right then, and he wanted to hate himself for opening up and pouring out his weakness like that, but he could not. He could not. He could not.

So it continued to flow, most certainly soaking the redhead’s sweater as he clutched at her desperately. She leaned her chin over the side of his neck and held him tightly in return. “It’s all right, Bobby. Ye can let it out.”

“Deus,” he sobbed. “Eu desculpo-me.”

“In English,” she whispered.

He pulled back, and wiped angrily at his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she told him, shaking her head and placing her hand on the nape of his neck. “It’s all right. Yuir allowed.”

“I saw her,” he sniffed. “In my dreams she was there, and Deus she was so beautiful. I just…I…”

She frowned, and pressed her forehead against his. “It’s okay.”

“I want her back,” he sighed shakily. “I can’t live this way.”

“I know it’s hard, but ye have tah fight. It’ll be the hardest thing ye ever have tah overcome, but yuir strong enough tah do it, Bobby, I have faith in ye,” she whispered. A hand stroked his hair before she gently directed him back down to the ground. “Try and go back tah sleep. Yuir exhausted.”

He blinked rapidly to will away the burning moisture in his eyes, but he nodded nonetheless. He was so tired that his entire body ached. His stomach turned, and for some reason all he could smell in his nose and taste in his mouth was blood. It made his skin crawl. “I'm tired,” he stated dumbly.

“I know,” she tried to soothe. “Ye just go back to sleep now.”

“I don’t want to dream,” he frowned miserably and tossed an arm over his face. “I just want to fucking wake up in my bed and have all this be over.”

“Yuir tellin’ me,” she sighed shakily, and squeezed his hand. “But we’ll get through this. All of us.”

He nodded, but he found he could not believe her words; not all of them were going to make it through. They had already lost their friends in the X-Men, X-Factor, and Generation X. Members of their own team had already perished, and others were missing. Most importantly, Amara would not make it through this. She had died, and she was never going to come back to him no matter how much he wished she would. To have her in his arms and around his body, warm and breathing, laughing and smiling, alive and loving him.

It was never going to be better again.

Go to chapter eight.

Tags: fanfic
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