Cipher Nine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stabgremlin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
boxofmisfits2026-03-25 03:57 am
stabgremlin) wrote in boxofmisfits2026-03-25 03:57 am
Entry tags:
The Location May Be Hellish...
A year.
A year of treachery and of war and of megalomaniacs who really needed to cut that shit right out. A year of being the one left with the bucket and the mop, of being the one cleaning up after Jedi and Sith alike despite only being one powerless person in the middle of a mess— or more like a clusterfuck— way above his pay grade.
Nine couldn't say that he had been thinking of Hancock the entire time they had been apart.
But he could say that in the quiet moments between the insanity of it all his mind had turned to Earth. To the ghoul. To that stormy night where he had sat safe cuddled up against a man he could be confident wouldn't raise a hand to hurt him despite obviously being both dangerous and fully capable should he be given a reason to be someone's enemy. To the locket left behind that he hoped still hung around a living neck and above a beating heart.
I need a fucking vacation he had said to Marr and Lana both. He hadn't even waited for their response.
The Emperor was off licking his wounds somewhere. The work would pick back up but Nine needed the rest and the actual fucking Sith Lords could do their jobs and hold down the fort for once.
Again he had dropped his companions off where they wanted to go. Stopping by Nar Shaddaa and Alderaan and wherever else. Ignoring the way that Doctor Lokin had stared at him as though he knew that Nine was going to a place that was physically dangerous to him in ways beyond mere hostility. Barely able to ignore when Vector had given him a concerned look.
Earth was dangerous.
But Earth was good to him, too. He wasn't Cipher Nine there. Not Major Nahain, not a Spec Ops Commander. Just him. And it was good enough. Being him— messy and unsure— was good enough.
He had filled his ship with supplies. Food, clean water. Medical supplies. Medicine. Luxuries too— both to gift and to barter with. An entire crate full of those energy drinks that he had promised, that he had written down on his datapad so as to not forget. And then he had taken his droids and he had gone.
Earth was still Earth when he arrived.
Kind of messy. Kind of gross. Kind of dangerous. Kind of exactly the way he had left it.
The Phantom had been parked somewhere no one would come across it and he had his droids camouflage it so that it blended in with the surroundings more than it had the first time he visited. Supplies filled both cargo hold and the main hold and the crew's quarters as well. Ready to be moved into Goodneighbor later.
For now the Chiss moved across the quiet night and headed for where he remembered the entrance to Goodneighbor to be and suddenly he was back to someplace that felt familiar despite the fact that he hadn't spent long there really. His eyes scanned the people milling about even at such a late hour until they landed on just who he was thinking of. Who he had been missing during those quiet moments when he had had time to think. Thoughts that had come to him at an hour just like this one when he had turned in for the night and his mind laid idle.
This time it wasn't a thought though. Not a dream, not an illusion or hallucination.
Nine didn't thank the Force very often for the simple reason that he didn't really believe it had a Will capable of listening to him. Yet he wanted to thank it now.
Instead he slipped between any person in his way, skillfully ducking and weaving between people he didn't deem worth even greeting— headed straight for his reason to return in the first place.
"John," He called out, to get his attention— not that he thought it necessary with how people were laser-focusing in on him being back (and a few people who seemed to be new and looked alarmed about the blue-skinned red-eyed whatever-the-fuck suddenly in their midst.)
Using his voice to call out that name made it feel more real though. Being able to get his hands on him would be even better.
A year of treachery and of war and of megalomaniacs who really needed to cut that shit right out. A year of being the one left with the bucket and the mop, of being the one cleaning up after Jedi and Sith alike despite only being one powerless person in the middle of a mess— or more like a clusterfuck— way above his pay grade.
Nine couldn't say that he had been thinking of Hancock the entire time they had been apart.
But he could say that in the quiet moments between the insanity of it all his mind had turned to Earth. To the ghoul. To that stormy night where he had sat safe cuddled up against a man he could be confident wouldn't raise a hand to hurt him despite obviously being both dangerous and fully capable should he be given a reason to be someone's enemy. To the locket left behind that he hoped still hung around a living neck and above a beating heart.
I need a fucking vacation he had said to Marr and Lana both. He hadn't even waited for their response.
The Emperor was off licking his wounds somewhere. The work would pick back up but Nine needed the rest and the actual fucking Sith Lords could do their jobs and hold down the fort for once.
Again he had dropped his companions off where they wanted to go. Stopping by Nar Shaddaa and Alderaan and wherever else. Ignoring the way that Doctor Lokin had stared at him as though he knew that Nine was going to a place that was physically dangerous to him in ways beyond mere hostility. Barely able to ignore when Vector had given him a concerned look.
Earth was dangerous.
But Earth was good to him, too. He wasn't Cipher Nine there. Not Major Nahain, not a Spec Ops Commander. Just him. And it was good enough. Being him— messy and unsure— was good enough.
He had filled his ship with supplies. Food, clean water. Medical supplies. Medicine. Luxuries too— both to gift and to barter with. An entire crate full of those energy drinks that he had promised, that he had written down on his datapad so as to not forget. And then he had taken his droids and he had gone.
Earth was still Earth when he arrived.
Kind of messy. Kind of gross. Kind of dangerous. Kind of exactly the way he had left it.
The Phantom had been parked somewhere no one would come across it and he had his droids camouflage it so that it blended in with the surroundings more than it had the first time he visited. Supplies filled both cargo hold and the main hold and the crew's quarters as well. Ready to be moved into Goodneighbor later.
For now the Chiss moved across the quiet night and headed for where he remembered the entrance to Goodneighbor to be and suddenly he was back to someplace that felt familiar despite the fact that he hadn't spent long there really. His eyes scanned the people milling about even at such a late hour until they landed on just who he was thinking of. Who he had been missing during those quiet moments when he had had time to think. Thoughts that had come to him at an hour just like this one when he had turned in for the night and his mind laid idle.
This time it wasn't a thought though. Not a dream, not an illusion or hallucination.
Nine didn't thank the Force very often for the simple reason that he didn't really believe it had a Will capable of listening to him. Yet he wanted to thank it now.
Instead he slipped between any person in his way, skillfully ducking and weaving between people he didn't deem worth even greeting— headed straight for his reason to return in the first place.
"John," He called out, to get his attention— not that he thought it necessary with how people were laser-focusing in on him being back (and a few people who seemed to be new and looked alarmed about the blue-skinned red-eyed whatever-the-fuck suddenly in their midst.)
Using his voice to call out that name made it feel more real though. Being able to get his hands on him would be even better.
no subject
He hoped it wouldn't take him as long to get back to him next time. But however long it took, the ghoul would find himself getting jumped when Nine came back.
"The whole town still looks at me like I'm going to eat them," He said then, with a slight roll of the eyes. That wasn't technically true since he was on friendly terms with some, but still. Nine imagined that on this world, anything that looked different or out of place probably read like danger.
"But I do suspect that the supplies will make me somewhat popular yes."
Food, water, and medical supplies. With no strings attached. He'd even brought more of those cheese-flavored rations since he'd ended up meeting a few weirdos who seemed to like them here and having people feel valued beyond what was expected could be useful.
Even if he didn't understand their fondness for those particular ration bars.
"If any of them end up propositioning me I will bite though."
They should all know he only had eyes for one man here. Even if most of them had seen him dress himself like a night with him would be twenty caps tops.
"They should know by now that I've only got eyes for you."
no subject
A year of not seeing each other, and Nine still wanted him. He hadn't become tired of the ghoul or moved on to better prospects, even if he was possibly getting all kinds of alien dick during the times he was away. They hadn't exactly promised to be exclusive, and Hancock wasn't sure if they would call what they had a serious relationship.
"Don't mind them, they just ain't used to seeing aliens, and they've heard too many stories of cannibalistic mutants."
Granted, super mutants did eat humans, and even feral ghouls were known to eat their victims. You also heard horror stories of human cannibals roaming the wasteland, selling strange meat.
"I think they get the hint about who you like."
no subject
Probably didn't even really believe in it any more.
But he thought that what he felt for the ghoul was similar. Easy friendship and comfort and attraction and fondness that bloomed somewhere deeper inside his chest than where his feelings usually came from. It was somewhat similar to how he felt for certain others but also different. A desire to just stay at his side. To wind himself as tightly around Hancock's heart as the ghoul had done to his unintentionally.
He didn't think it would be very comforting to hear that the only reason why he wouldn't return was if he croaked though. So he said nothing. Let the ghoul hold him to the promise to return.
"Probably better if they think I'm some sort of mutant anyway and eventually come to just accept me as that."
A few people besides Hancock himself did know that he was an alien, but not a lot.
"Even out there there are a lot of people who want to stick aliens in vats for study."
And given that the Phantom had picked up on areas that pinged back as somewhat more high-tech than most of Earth, and the existence of Synths, he was fairly certain that there were scientists out there who'd love an unusual specimen.
"So I'm sure there are people outside of Goodneighbor who'd love to play dissect the freak if they got wind that I'm more extra than terrestrial."
That had been a new term to him but he'd gotten it explained and knew how to make a joke out of it.
"And I should hope so given that I've practically been glued to your side during my visits."
Plenty of people could be beyond dense though. And plenty of people chose to disregard it when someone they were interested in were obviously interested in someone else too.
"Fahrenheit already asked me to reassure her that what I'm here for is a relationship and not to turn you into a ghoul-skin coat."
no subject
He took a sip of beer, putting the cap on the table. It would help pay for the tab, ironically.
"She means well, I promise. First time I brought someone home, she gave them a pat-down."
no subject
Being too fucking angry to die had its advantages. He wasn't invincible though and was just as susceptible to being overwhelmed by superior numbers as anyone else. So better that most people he met just assumed that he had mutated in some new sort of way. Mutants could be met with hostility but he'd found very little overall curiosity about what exactly could turn a person blue.
And hostility was probably safer than curiosity in this place.
"I'm not upset about it," He reassured, "She's your bodyguard. She's supposed to suspect every person who seems like they're moving further into your social circle."
Nine got the distinct feeling that the relationship between the two of them was more than mere employer and employee of course. Something closer to very good friends or family. But her role was still to make sure no one stuck a knife in Hancock's back.
"I'd be more upset if she didn't ask what my intentions are."
He went for his own beer— setting the cap down next to where Hancock had laid his. He took a swig that was longer than the sip Hancock had taken of his. Barely grimacing even though it sort of tasted like how he imagined two-credit wine to taste. He set the bottle back down and tugged the ashtray on the table closer and then reached into one of the pockets of his uniform coat to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a fancy little silver lighter and pulled one cigarette out— lighting it and putting it to his lips to take a drag. His shoulders lowered slightly as he exhaled slowly and he tossed the pack and lighter onto the table in a wordless offer to share with the ghoul if he wanted one too.
Hancock was the one paying for drinks after all. It was only right that Nine at least partially returned the favor by giving him one of their other shares vices if he wanted one.
"Believe me, I've met a lot of shitty fucking bodyguards out there. People who'd turn on their employer for a single credit more than what they're being paid. She could corner me in an alley and shake me down and I still wouldn't be peeved about it."
no subject
He liked her, and she was the sort of best friend he would have wanted when he was a kid, or even the sister he never had. There was mutual respect and trust between them, and he couldn't ask for a better bodyguard. He appreciated that Nine understood that she was just trying to keep Hancock safe, and in any other circumstances, she would be right to be suspicious of him, since he was a spy.
Hancock helped himself to a cigarette and lit it, taking a lot drag and exhale. He took another swig of beer, almost downing the entire thing.
"Plenty of bodyguards like that out there too. In a lotta these raider gangs, the one who don't shoot first can often be convinced to look the other way for enough caps."
no subject
There was a little more to it than that, but it had to have been a blow to Nem'ro's security when Kaliyo walked out the way she did.
"She's still not what you'd call loyal, of course— as you might expect from someone who's anti-Imperial. Sold Imperial secrets to her anarchist friends despite the work I do and would probably have continued if her terrorist buddies didn't see me and think harvest job."
They had been into bombing spaceports and raiding Imperial transports she'd said. Nine was pretty sure they'd been into more than just that given how giddy The Wheezer had gotten at thinking he'd bagged a Cipher. Still, that little anecdote told a story about how money ruled and loyalty was rare even outside of Earth. Even when people did stay loyal it was usually about how it'd be hard for them to find new jobs if they turned on their employer and less about actually caring about the person they were guarding.
"... Cipher agent body parts are worth a lot of money to the people who hate the Empire," He clarified, "Given how high our security clearance is."
His eyes and hands in particular, but Nine was sure they'd find some use for the rest of him too. At least he could joke about the fact that he'd never be worthless he supposed.
"Lots of people out in the galaxy like that though. Bodyguards, enforcers, private security. Associates and friends who might decide to sell you out for a couple more credits. That Fahrenheit is as loyal to you as she is is a rare and admirable thing."
Nine could count the amount of friends he had who'd shake someone down for him on one hand even if he should get half his fingers blown off. And when it came to friends who'd stay by his side even if the whole world should turn on him, he had even less.
"She's observant too. She seems to be at least partially able to tell what I'm feeling."
Even most of the Empire and people who had worked with him for years were pretty shit at that. Said something about how closely Fahrenheit observed the people around Hancock though that she could sort of tell when Nine was experiencing an emotion besides neutrality.
"Half my fucking coworkers still can't even do that."