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jedibuttercupM/E; Bloodshot (2020), 1400 words. Post-canon; Ray Garrison/KT/Wilfred Wigans.
Probably the strangest thing about their whole situation is how deeply weird Ray doesn't find it.
Title: Riding Into the Sunset
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: M/E
Spoilers: Post-movie for Bloodshot (2020)
Notes: For Launch the Ship Round 3. Because the very last scene of this dumb action movie was unexpectedly warm and affectionate, and the thought of what comes next has nagged at me for the last three years. :)
Probably the strangest thing about their whole situation is how deeply weird Ray doesn't find it. 1400 words.
Probably the strangest thing about their whole situation is how deeply weird Ray doesn't find it.
But then, that's been par for the course ever since Dr. Harting replaced his blood with nanites and raised him like some futuristic Frankenstein. Who figures out how to ping nine thousand cars with their mind on what they think is their very first try, wifi's an airplane manual to figure out how to fly it, and runs into a hail of bullets without any self-protective reflex, without flailing at least a little at the blatant break from reality? Someone who just doesn't have those neurons anymore, Ray's pretty sure.
Surer than he is about his last name, at any rate. When he'd gone looking for Gina, the woman whose imaginary death Dr. Harting had been using to motivate him like a wind-up weapon, he'd gone looking under the name Gina Garrison. He'd found her, all right; and she'd actually called him Ray, so at least he can be certain of that much of his identity. But she'd been married to someone else-- might not ever have been married to Ray at all, since the word 'divorce' had figured nowhere in that conversation-- which made it seem likely the name was either her own, or her current partner's. Had it made it easier for Dr. Harding's techs to hang the false memories of her death on Ray by using the name as an anchor?
Another thing he's pretty unlikely to ever know for sure, unless Wigans can decipher their reasoning from the leftover code. But that's all right. KT may have been following Dr. Harting's script when Ray's post reset wanderings had led him to her observation pool-- however many times that particular scene had played out-- but it was easier to play a part when it ran close to the truth. We're all damaged goods here. But this is who I am now. I've embraced it.
With his motivation gone and his Dr. Frankenstein with it, there's nothing left for Ray to do now but embrace it, too. What does it really matter which, if any, of all the layered memories of that last op and the vacation after it are real? If they edited his own past, stitching together bits of his actual history to reframe each new target, or if every detail came from Harting's sick imagination? If his last experience of human comfort before his rebirth was probably written over with Gina's face for a psychopath's gleeful entertainment, unless he'd been experimental meat for the entire last five years? Ray's not sure which of the options would be worse. He's thought about asking Wigans to write KT's face into the palimpsest of his past instead, or even his own; turn Ray's fake tragic origin story into something at least a little more real. It's more satisfying making new memories he can be certain all three of them share, though.
Listening to Wigans geek out about his 'superpower' draped in tailored suits and gold jewelry, while still dripping noodles everywhere like the guy he'd first met in a basement; sunbathing while KT takes long, blissful strokes through the ocean, moving with graceful unhurried energy, glass walls nowhere in sight. Sitting on the end of the bed while Wigans traces curious, respectful fingers over KT's clavicle-mounted respirator, feeling his own breath hitch as her eyelids flutter shut and she bares her throat to their re-programmer's touch. Feeling just that slight frisson of risk and uncertainty under his own skin as Wigans turns that intent, curious expression on Ray, that bright mind that could have coded him into doing anything choosing to manually tease a response out of him instead. Not a single fight he's experienced since his first reawakening in RST's lab has raised his pulse even that much; maybe he's getting a little obsessed with chasing his new partners' touch in response.
But that's basically Ray's whole deal, isn't it? Relentless, unstoppable pursuit of his current motivation. How much of that is original and how much Dr. Harting's coding, who the hell knows, but it's all him now. And knowing what they all could do, and what they choose not to do, as much as what they do choose, pretty much is his motivation at the moment.
"So if you can breathe underwater with those cybernetic lungs," Ray murmurs into the curve of KT's hip one lazy sunset, between pressing kisses against bared, sweat-slick skin. "Ever tried to do this in a pool?"
"What, alone?" she laughs. "Kinda hard when you still have to worry about the other party drowning. Though I don't think it stopped some of the guys from fantasizing about it." She chuckles, then arches her back, breath coming short as his mouth moves somewhere a little more sensitive.
"Oh, I think I know where he's going with this," Wigans says, tone bright and distracted. He'd been sprawled on the other side of the bed, all wrung out from Ray's last attempt to test the limits of Wigans' adjustments to his stamina, but he hitches up on one elbow and reaches for a keyboard as his brain kicks back into gear. KT murmurs a complaint at the loss of his warmth at her side; Ray redoubles his efforts as distraction as Wigans pulls up a window of code on a nearby screen. "I mean, every time he gets blown apart and the nanites stitch him back together again, there's a period of hypovolemia, but he never seems to suffer any damage from all that temporary-- or not-so-temporary-- lack of oxygen. At least, not since the nanites were infused with his system; any memory loss post-Bloodshot seems to have been coded in, not natural consequences of injury. It's like it's just another kind of wound the nanites are programmed to heal. So technically, if you could get over the animal reflex to breathe underwater and had no other demands on your healing at the time...."
KT cries out, respirator fluttering just as Wigans throws a glance back over his shoulder; his Adam's apple bobs in his throat as his gaze traces from the circle of metal and plastic at the hollow of her throat down to where Ray's looking back at him. Ray presses another kiss to KT's center, then kneels up and reaches out to take the keyboard out of Wigan's hand.
Wigans swallows again as the keyboard clatters to the floor, then licks reflexively at Ray's lips as Ray leans in, humming under his breath at the taste.
"And how about you?" Ray asks, pulling back. "Got another tech solution in mind for that?"
"Oh, no; not my thing, really, unless the water's shallow enough I can brace myself, and then what's the point?" He smirks at Ray. "I'll have a lot more fun watching. But if pain's really not a factor for you, I do have some other ideas we can test out. How do you feel about hot wax, then?"
Ray raises an eyebrow. Like KT with the drinks when she was scene-setting-- sometime he should ask her if she ever served him anything else just to see, or if Ray really did come with his taste in alcohol pre-programmed in-- how's he supposed to know until they try it? And they've already established his lack of self-preservation. What does he need it for, after all?
"Right, of course. Silly question. I'll pick up some candles next time I do a supply run, shall I?"
KT laughs, then rolls over, knocking Wigans back down against the bed. "Not a bad idea. But this isn't planning time, this is winding-down time."
"Sorry, sorry-- shit, you guys are going to kill me, aren't you, I'm going to die of too much satisfaction--"
KT's too occupied this time to reply; Ray answers instead, a wry smile curving at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe crack the anti-propagation code on the nanites first, if you want that to be a temporary condition."
"Because what we need is another one of you," Wigans says breathily, "instead of-- fuck--" He trails off into incoherence as KT takes that for a suggestion rather than verbal punctuation.
For a guy with no past and an uncertain future, Ray could think of no better present; maybe he really was lucky Dr. Harting picked him, after all.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, and settles back to recharge.
(x-posted at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
launchtheship and on AO3)
Probably the strangest thing about their whole situation is how deeply weird Ray doesn't find it.
Title: Riding Into the Sunset
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: M/E
Spoilers: Post-movie for Bloodshot (2020)
Notes: For Launch the Ship Round 3. Because the very last scene of this dumb action movie was unexpectedly warm and affectionate, and the thought of what comes next has nagged at me for the last three years. :)
Probably the strangest thing about their whole situation is how deeply weird Ray doesn't find it. 1400 words.
Probably the strangest thing about their whole situation is how deeply weird Ray doesn't find it.
But then, that's been par for the course ever since Dr. Harting replaced his blood with nanites and raised him like some futuristic Frankenstein. Who figures out how to ping nine thousand cars with their mind on what they think is their very first try, wifi's an airplane manual to figure out how to fly it, and runs into a hail of bullets without any self-protective reflex, without flailing at least a little at the blatant break from reality? Someone who just doesn't have those neurons anymore, Ray's pretty sure.
Surer than he is about his last name, at any rate. When he'd gone looking for Gina, the woman whose imaginary death Dr. Harting had been using to motivate him like a wind-up weapon, he'd gone looking under the name Gina Garrison. He'd found her, all right; and she'd actually called him Ray, so at least he can be certain of that much of his identity. But she'd been married to someone else-- might not ever have been married to Ray at all, since the word 'divorce' had figured nowhere in that conversation-- which made it seem likely the name was either her own, or her current partner's. Had it made it easier for Dr. Harding's techs to hang the false memories of her death on Ray by using the name as an anchor?
Another thing he's pretty unlikely to ever know for sure, unless Wigans can decipher their reasoning from the leftover code. But that's all right. KT may have been following Dr. Harting's script when Ray's post reset wanderings had led him to her observation pool-- however many times that particular scene had played out-- but it was easier to play a part when it ran close to the truth. We're all damaged goods here. But this is who I am now. I've embraced it.
With his motivation gone and his Dr. Frankenstein with it, there's nothing left for Ray to do now but embrace it, too. What does it really matter which, if any, of all the layered memories of that last op and the vacation after it are real? If they edited his own past, stitching together bits of his actual history to reframe each new target, or if every detail came from Harting's sick imagination? If his last experience of human comfort before his rebirth was probably written over with Gina's face for a psychopath's gleeful entertainment, unless he'd been experimental meat for the entire last five years? Ray's not sure which of the options would be worse. He's thought about asking Wigans to write KT's face into the palimpsest of his past instead, or even his own; turn Ray's fake tragic origin story into something at least a little more real. It's more satisfying making new memories he can be certain all three of them share, though.
Listening to Wigans geek out about his 'superpower' draped in tailored suits and gold jewelry, while still dripping noodles everywhere like the guy he'd first met in a basement; sunbathing while KT takes long, blissful strokes through the ocean, moving with graceful unhurried energy, glass walls nowhere in sight. Sitting on the end of the bed while Wigans traces curious, respectful fingers over KT's clavicle-mounted respirator, feeling his own breath hitch as her eyelids flutter shut and she bares her throat to their re-programmer's touch. Feeling just that slight frisson of risk and uncertainty under his own skin as Wigans turns that intent, curious expression on Ray, that bright mind that could have coded him into doing anything choosing to manually tease a response out of him instead. Not a single fight he's experienced since his first reawakening in RST's lab has raised his pulse even that much; maybe he's getting a little obsessed with chasing his new partners' touch in response.
But that's basically Ray's whole deal, isn't it? Relentless, unstoppable pursuit of his current motivation. How much of that is original and how much Dr. Harting's coding, who the hell knows, but it's all him now. And knowing what they all could do, and what they choose not to do, as much as what they do choose, pretty much is his motivation at the moment.
"So if you can breathe underwater with those cybernetic lungs," Ray murmurs into the curve of KT's hip one lazy sunset, between pressing kisses against bared, sweat-slick skin. "Ever tried to do this in a pool?"
"What, alone?" she laughs. "Kinda hard when you still have to worry about the other party drowning. Though I don't think it stopped some of the guys from fantasizing about it." She chuckles, then arches her back, breath coming short as his mouth moves somewhere a little more sensitive.
"Oh, I think I know where he's going with this," Wigans says, tone bright and distracted. He'd been sprawled on the other side of the bed, all wrung out from Ray's last attempt to test the limits of Wigans' adjustments to his stamina, but he hitches up on one elbow and reaches for a keyboard as his brain kicks back into gear. KT murmurs a complaint at the loss of his warmth at her side; Ray redoubles his efforts as distraction as Wigans pulls up a window of code on a nearby screen. "I mean, every time he gets blown apart and the nanites stitch him back together again, there's a period of hypovolemia, but he never seems to suffer any damage from all that temporary-- or not-so-temporary-- lack of oxygen. At least, not since the nanites were infused with his system; any memory loss post-Bloodshot seems to have been coded in, not natural consequences of injury. It's like it's just another kind of wound the nanites are programmed to heal. So technically, if you could get over the animal reflex to breathe underwater and had no other demands on your healing at the time...."
KT cries out, respirator fluttering just as Wigans throws a glance back over his shoulder; his Adam's apple bobs in his throat as his gaze traces from the circle of metal and plastic at the hollow of her throat down to where Ray's looking back at him. Ray presses another kiss to KT's center, then kneels up and reaches out to take the keyboard out of Wigan's hand.
Wigans swallows again as the keyboard clatters to the floor, then licks reflexively at Ray's lips as Ray leans in, humming under his breath at the taste.
"And how about you?" Ray asks, pulling back. "Got another tech solution in mind for that?"
"Oh, no; not my thing, really, unless the water's shallow enough I can brace myself, and then what's the point?" He smirks at Ray. "I'll have a lot more fun watching. But if pain's really not a factor for you, I do have some other ideas we can test out. How do you feel about hot wax, then?"
Ray raises an eyebrow. Like KT with the drinks when she was scene-setting-- sometime he should ask her if she ever served him anything else just to see, or if Ray really did come with his taste in alcohol pre-programmed in-- how's he supposed to know until they try it? And they've already established his lack of self-preservation. What does he need it for, after all?
"Right, of course. Silly question. I'll pick up some candles next time I do a supply run, shall I?"
KT laughs, then rolls over, knocking Wigans back down against the bed. "Not a bad idea. But this isn't planning time, this is winding-down time."
"Sorry, sorry-- shit, you guys are going to kill me, aren't you, I'm going to die of too much satisfaction--"
KT's too occupied this time to reply; Ray answers instead, a wry smile curving at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe crack the anti-propagation code on the nanites first, if you want that to be a temporary condition."
"Because what we need is another one of you," Wigans says breathily, "instead of-- fuck--" He trails off into incoherence as KT takes that for a suggestion rather than verbal punctuation.
For a guy with no past and an uncertain future, Ray could think of no better present; maybe he really was lucky Dr. Harting picked him, after all.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, and settles back to recharge.
(x-posted at
launchtheship and on AO3)
