Twilight's Terminus - Season 1, "Uniform Sky"

5-14-4786
12:14 Universal Standard Time (UST)
Block 4, LAGOON 13 [Twilight’s Terminus]

In the end, it had never really been a choice at all. 

Oh it had been phrased like one in the beginning. Those words still echo in Yilmaz’s head – the Duce leaned against his desk and calmly sliding the evidence back to Yilmaz with “Find someone else to blame. I won’t accept this.” Because of course, the culprit had been Riptide. Of course, the culprit had defenses in high places. To think that just days ago Yilmaz had been looking forward to the upcoming exam with excitement, eager to be part of Riptide himself. It’s enough to make him sick now. For a certain measure of the word perhaps this is a mercy. 

Because it means Yilmaz saw the corruption in Riptide before he joined. 

Riptide isn’t on the side of folk like him – and he knows it now, before he went for the exam again. Before he tried to become one of them yet again. 

And honestly – even taking the Duce’s threats – he wanted something done. He wasn’t going to sit and become complicit in that bastard’s actions by doing nothing in the face of what he knew. Of course – taking it to the cops hadn’t been a real option, no matter what the head officer of the nearest outpost claimed. Yilmaz knows what the cops are capable of behind closed doors – he still has the scars. And, sure, okay – supposedly the police have gotten better than they were when he was a teen. As if the bullet scars, the manacle scars, and improperly healed broken bones are relics of a past so distant that he surely must have dreamed up the beatings that had been part of the cost of simply existing. 

So he’d been willing to give them a chance, despite his history with cops in general. With a copy of his evidence, not the real deal. It had proven the best idea, because he’d been misguided in beliving a word of the shit that safer folk claim about cops. Even the police had told him to find someone else to blame, and then implied that he was the one who was actually the rapist. Not precious McCrae, one of the local Riptide members. There’s no way that Riptide would let a rapist in, and hey – Yilmaz keeps failing the exam…

He’d left quickly after that, aware of what would happen if he stayed and unwilling to take the risk. They saw the evidence, and would rather pin the blame on him. Riptide is housing and defending a rapist and-

And the only ones who care are the victims and Yilmaz’s group. GUARDHOUND. It was supposed to have been a project to teach him how to respect and follow orders – he’s seen the paperwork by now. The thing is – the orders Yilmaz refuses to follow have always been the ones that weren’t worth following. Orders that endangered innocents. Orders that made wars worse. Orders- the corruption has always been there, in hindsight. Yilmaz had just been clinging to his dreams so hard that he’d somehow convinced himself it was all normal. (Or maybe, a merciful voice in his head whispers, being raised by folks who treated this all as normal is what made it normal to him for so long.) 

This thing with McCrae was only more of that in the end. An order and a threat and a hard moral line that Yilmaz refuses to cross. He’s smarter now than he used to be – he’s called in a favor or nine, and the victims have been given the resources they need in order to get away from the LAGOON entirely. They’re going to be okay – Yilmaz may be entirely out of favors now. No regrets. 

At least the LAGOON is letting him gather whatever of his things that he can carry before they kick him out. At least he’s not dragging all of GUARDHOUND down with him. Small mercies that taste odd on his tongue. Taking his evidence to the police had sealed his fate even if they ultimately did nothing – and the Duce thinks the evidence is gone. Thinks that the only ones who know anything about it are himself and the police that he’s likely already bribed to forget it. 

Pity that Yilmaz sent the hard copies of the evidence somewhere else entirely before he returned to the LAGOON after talking to the police. 

…McCrae’s blood will be on his hands. He doesn’t regret that either. 

Yilmaz pauses in his packing, yellow and magenta eyes landing on a photo on his nightstand. It’s him standing with GUARDHOUND, all of them smiling. He doesn’t have much room left in the bag he’s allowed to take with him, so he opens the picture frame and pulls the picture out with hands he refuses to acknowledge are trembling. Slipping it between other important papers means it’ll probably be safe enough for the journey. Probably. Unless the cops he tried reporting McCrae to are smarting from the way he refused to keep his mouth shut. Yilmaz has learned from his teen years, though – thinking that far ahead and envisioning the beatings just makes them hurt worse, not less. 

Shaking his head, Yilmaz drags his gaze around what’s been his room for years in search of anything else that he might just want to take with him. The memories are thick, but most of what’s left is stuff that doesn’t belong to him. Stuff he’s not supposed to take. There’s a temptation to take some of it and destroy things, vent out the frustration that’s leftover from–

Just a week ago (it seems like so long ago, now) he’d been excited about the upcoming exam. Excited about the potential of becoming Riptide, and the gift he’d told Rehema that he’d open once he made it in is still sitting on the table unopened. That dream, his oldest dream, has gone up in smoke and Rehema herself will be by any moment now. Yilmaz should really get going before she turns up. His friend has never been one to let him squirm out of explaining what’s going on, and the last bit of the Duce’s threat still rings in his ears. 

“Your actions have lost you your home here, boy. If only you’d listened when I told you to pin the blame on someone else. If you don’t want all of GUARDHOUND and those victims to go down with you, you’ll keep your mouth shut. If any of them come to ask questions, what happens after that will be on your head.”

Once, a threat like that would have been nothing. Meant nothing, but now it’s the only part of the threat that has him hustling. The last thing he wants is to put the victims in any further danger or hardship. That’s why he’d called in his favors, including the ones from the Wintyr Court. It won’t help matters to give the Duce any kinds of reasons to go after the victims anyway. And GUARDHOUND… they don’t deserve to go down with Yilmaz. 

Shrugging the bag up onto his shoulder, he leaves the box there as he slips out of the room. It was to be a gift for a dream that no longer exists. Rehema should return it, get her money back – maybe send that money to her struggling family. All thoughts he doesn’t have to write down or share – because Rehema will know that’s how he feels about it now when she arrives to his room and finds it empty and bare. 

The bright shades of midday shines from above, the artificial sun blaring at the brightest setting it has all day. It’s darkly funny how what had once been a comfort now seems mocking. A brilliant light that protects them all from the saeva… and fails to illuminate the LAGOON’s rotten, corrupted depths. At least… no one here is surprised by Yilmaz stalking down the halls with a scowl on his face. As far as most of the others that live in this LAGOON is concerned – it’s business as usual if Yilmaz looks like he’s one bad word away from starting a brawl. It works in his favor now, because folk scatter ahead of him and no one actually pays him any serious attention as he makes his way to the docks. There’s a small cruiser class ship that he can take and use for a week, after that it’s programmed to come back here no matter if he still needs it or not. 

A small concession made because some of the instructors argued against his exile and this was as close to a compromise the Duce was willing to give them. Yilmaz lingers on thinking of those instructors for a moment, steps pausing, because he’d been so certain all of the instructors hated him. And yet they’d argued on his behalf so staunchly… 

The spaceship docks are quiet and empty. It always is if there isn’t a mission about to happen, and when he starts walking again every step echoes back at him. It reinforces the fact that he’s going to be truly alone again soon – not even his friends will know where he’s gone. Like a ghost passing out of existence. The expectation of that loneliness pangs in his chest, and he wishes – just for a moment – that this wasn’t how things had to go. That the Duce hadn’t been corrupt. That the cops hadn’t also been corrupt. That McCrae wasn’t a thrice glitched, malware eaten rapist. 

Lots of ifs and conditional requirements to keep the life he’d had. Better he knows now, better he guards his moral line with everything he’s got. Especially since it’s all he has now. 

…Not all. 

The next time, when he steps down, there’s another step behind his. Someone else is in this ship docks. It’s strange – he didn’t hear the hiss of the doors sliding open after they’d done so for him, so whoever it is must have already been here…

Yilmaz takes a slow, steadying breath. He’d been safe here for the majority of his life. Maybe he’s just hearing things? No one is supposed to know that he’s leaving right now, and this ship docks is meant to be empty so no one sees him leave. And the Duce had given his word for that… and Yilmaz needs to believe that the Duce has an ounce of honor to keep his word.

He hopes that belief isn’t in vain.

The cruiser he’s allowed to take is the furthest from the door, and Yilmaz shakes his head with a low grumble. There’s no small part of him that wants to go back. Wants to beg and grovel and plead – he was doing the right thing! He’d listened to the victims, he’d focused everything he had on the reports. Isn’t that what the LAGOON is supposed to be for? Helping those that a single planet can’t help because the incidents are too large? 

Oh but it would harm the LAGOON’s reputation to have one of their precious, precious Riptide Agents turn out to be the kind of scum that McCrae is. 

Yilmaz would rather be homeless and at constant risk based on the dark color of the skin of his human guise and his true species than be complicit in what the LAGOON is sheltering. If there’s one…

“You’re a real asshole, you know?”

Yilmaz freezes. The second set of steps has stopped. And that voice– Pivoting on his heel, Yilmaz can feel the growl rumbling deep in his chest at the sight of McCrae. The Riptide Agent is in full uniform, breast pocket glinting in the low light with the array of awards pinned to his jacket. There’s bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days – but that’s less important than the gun in McCrae’s pale hand. Pointed right at him. The gun’s muzzle wavers, like McCrae is shaking – but the look in the bastard’s eyes is sharp despite the bags. And in his other hand… paperwork. 

No. Not paperwork. 

Evidence. The copies Yilmaz had given to the Duce. The copies Yilmaz had watched the man feed into a paper shredder. They’ve been taped back together. The coffee stain on the front page is clear, despite the amount of tape. 

…Ah. That’s what this is. Yilmaz’s laugh is low and short. He should have fucking seen this coming! After everything else, of course, of course – the rot is so deep that it must have started when the LAGOON was but a sapling. “Let me guess,” years of practice keeps Yilmaz’s voice smooth and calmer than he feels. “the Duce passed that along to you, didn’t he?” Yilmaz doesn’t have his weapon. Isn’t allowed to have it since he’s getting exiled and he never really actually got to own it to begin with. Now that feels more and more like part of the setup he’s apparently walked right into. The LAGOON was supposed to be better than the shit outside. 

Turns out it just had better press. 

“You should’ve taken the deal.” McCrae says, waving the gun at Yilmaz as he speaks. “Don’t rock the boat. Don’t challenge the established structure. Get to join Riptide despite how unruly you are as a reward. Or don’t, and lose the roof over your head and everything else.” He takes a step forward, dropping the papers and bringing his second hand forward to help brace the gun as he bares flat teeth in a facsimile of a threat. “You’ve got no one and nothing to protect you now, you–“

“I don’t exactly fit your usual victim profile.” Yilmaz cuts him off. He doesn’t want to hear or know what slurs were lurking on the tip of McCrae’s tongue. “Your usual type are the ones who think that suit of yours means you’re trustworthy. I know better now.” One lip curls up, bares teeth. Here he is, standing at gunpoint and very aware that McCrae probably has the kind of ammunition in it that could kill him. And Yilmaz… if it takes his death to get this taken care of, he feels like it’d be worth it honestly. Too little, too late for McCrae’s victims, but if Yilmaz is lucky then McCrae will never be able to do anything like that again…

McCrae gestures with the gun, taking a step forward. “They’re carting me off in the morning. I don’t know what the fuck you did but it’s your fault that I’m going to lose everything! Everything! You have no idea how hard I’ve worked! What I’ve had to do to get where I am! You’re taking everything from me!” He takes another step forward, jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“Pretty sure it was all your own choices that led you here.” Yilmaz shoots back. Part of his mind hisses at him to shut up, to stop. Because if he continues to talk, then what’s going to happen is McCrae’s going to be pushed into actually shooting him. Right now it sort of seems like McCrae doesn’t have the guts to really do it, what with the way he’s spent the whole conversation waving it around but not even having a finger on the trigger despite using both hands to brace it now. Yellow and fuchsia eyes scan across the hangar again, and Yilmaz considers his options. This doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that McCrae would bring backup for – that would mean more people knowing what he is. 

Then again, considering how he’s still ranting about how it’s definitely actually Yilmaz’s fault that his life is ruined – maybe he doesn’t care if people know anymore?

“Pay fucking attention to me!” McCrae screams the words – they echo off the walls of the docks, distorting and repeating with the distance. 

Yilmaz arches a brow at him. By his count, it’s been nearly fifteen minutes since McCrae showed up. If he was really going to shoot Yilmaz, he would have already… wouldn’t he have? He opens his mouth to say something back to McCrae when he notices that something’s shifted in the man’s eyes. Something’s hardened. 

Glitch.

Throwing himself to the side is not likely to stop him from getting shot – his reflexes have never been that good, but it might at least save his life. He’s underestimated the product of nepotism and greed. A bad mistake to make, though he at least has the solace of knowing that McCrae won’t be able to stay here and the victims are likely already safe.

The shot rings out – a sharp retort that cuts through the air. Once. Twice. A third time. A fourth.

McCrae’s mouth is moving. He’s saying something – but Yilmaz can’t make sense of it. What he sees is… is strange. There’s… someone else with dark skin like his, lunging out of the shadows at McCrae with bared feline teeth. Oh – wait, he knows that scar and those eyes. It’s his rival. Kukali.

Ice blue eyes shoot a glance at Yilmaz and it’s… wrong. 

Strange. 

Does she… look scared…? That’s not right.

Yilmaz has never seen Kukali look scared before, but his mouth won’t move when he tries to speak, as he crumples and hits the ground.

There’s the pain now – blossoming like a fractal flower of agony in his chest and rising like a devouring tide as everything goes dark.

The last thing he sees is Kukali’s wide eye looking his way, and her lips forming words he can’t understand.