Mutually Assured Destruction || Yandere!Soulmates X F!Reader

Big Storm Coming

You thought you had a week to prepare, maybe a week and a half if you were lucky. But no. In the end, you had only three days.

By that time, Garcia hadn't made a decision on how to handle the Final Ghouls, hadn't even sent messengers to the other towns in the county letting them know a big storm was coming.

She wasn't necessarily sitting on her ass, but she wasn't getting shit done either. It was infuriating, to say the least. But what could you do?

You tried to calm yourself, tell yourself there was still time. Only there wasn't.

Monday evening, as you were up on the wall watching the sun set, you spotted them off in the distance.

Huge vehicles racing down the road towards Fort Valiant. If it weren't for their neon paint jobs, they would be completely shrouded by the big, billowing clouds of smoke and sand they were sending up into the ozone.

"Someone get Garcia!" You heard one of the scouts yell down into the town. "We've got trouble on the horizon!"

You would have been the one to call for her, but one of two things was going to happen if you opened your mouth. Either you wouldn't be able to speak around the lump in your throat... Or you were going to scream.

Once you were shaken from your stock stillness, you scrambled for the ladder. You wanted to be somewhere out of sight when they arrived at your doorstep.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be in the cards, because you ran into Garcia as you were running for cover. She put her hands on your shoulders to steady you. Otherwise, you would have fallen on your ass.

"Are you alright, mija?" She asked, concern written plain across her face. "You don't look so good."

You didn't feel so good either. Your stomach was all squirmy, like a carcass full of maggots. You were thankful you hadn't eaten dinner yet, or else you would have hosed her down with vomit.

"Garcia, there's something I never told you! The Final Ghouls... They're-- They're..." Mine. But your throat closed up before you could get the last word out. The most that came out of your mouth after that were choked cries.

Garcia looked at you, really looked at you, gaze boring through your skull and into your brain. "They're yours, aren't they? The gang you used to run with."

There were a couple beats of silence between the two of you, during which it felt like you were the only people in the world. Only you weren't. Fort Valiant was readying itself for an attack. The Final Ghouls were closing in, and fast. Still, it didn't feel real.

"I can't-- I can't--" You said, borderline gasping for air. Your whole frame was trembling, likely due to just how goddamn tense you were.

"I won't make you," she answered before giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "You've done enough already. Go to your room. Let me handle this." Before letting you go, she pulled you into an embrace so tight that it hurt.

You stood, rooted to the spot, watching the local militia run to the gates and any settler who couldn't hold a gun flee to their homes.

Garcia had essentially given you, one of Fort Valiant's best fighters, permission to sit this one out. Could you really stand by and do nothing as your friends fought and died in your stead, though? On the contrary, could you take up arms against your family?

The Final Ghouls had changed, you told yourself. If it was still the gang you grew up in, you never would have left. Killing its members now was no different than putting down rabid animals.

With that idea in mind, you ran to the armory for a rifle, a sturdy-looking Stetson, sunglasses, and a bandana. It may have been years since any of the Ghouls had seen your face, but you still didn't want to risk being recognized.

Please let it be a run-of-the-mill raiding party, you prayed as you climbed up onto the roof of one of the buildings closest to the gate. Please don't let them be here.

Your karma must still be bad, though, because your prayers went unanswered. As soon as you peered through your sniper scope, you saw a massive military truck --painted all colors of neon, of course-- leading the convoy.

This must be a threatening social visit rather than a full-on onslaught, because it stopped in front of the gate rather than mow it down. You'd witnessed that truck make rubble of lesser defenses, so you didn't want to see it test the Fort's.

Nevertheless, the vehicle came to a stop just outside the town limits and two doors --the driver's and the front passenger's-- swung open near simultaneously.

And out stepped the leaders of the Final Ghouls, the Twins, Kali and Uma.

They were identical when they came out of the womb --within two minutes of one another, or so you heard-- and they maintained a great likeness to this day, twenty-something years later.

Same indigo eyes, same ebony hair, same golden skin...

Their eyes, like the rest of their features, were big and round. This didn't mean they were soft, however. They had a sharp, feline quality to them, and wouldn't look out of place on a big cat like a tiger or leopard.

Their hair was long and wavy to the point of being unruly, falling down to their waists. Long hair was a status symbol in the post-apocalypse, and they were clearly flaunting theirs.

They were tall, an inch shy of six feet if you remembered correctly, and lean with muscle. One didn't get to the top and stay at the top of a raider gang when they looked small and weak. You knew better than most that they regularly went toe-to-toe against anyone who thought they could run the gang better. The fact that they were still leaders was proof they hadn't been beaten yet.

They wore the colors of their gang with pride. Kali was dressed mostly in sky blue whereas Uma wore main fuchsia. But both of their armor sets were accentuated with Indian gold, a richer, brighter, more yellow shade than what you were used to.

Your palms started to sweat and your heart beat faster at the mere sight of them. You took a steady breath and readjusted your grip on your rifle.

Your pinkies --or, rather, the stumps where your pinkies used to be-- twinged. Perhaps some cosmic side effect of being in close proximity of your soulmates with your threads of fate cut. It had been close to three years since you were within a hundred feet of the two of them.

"Good evening, ladies," Garcia called down to the Twins. "Can we help you?"

Uma stepped forward. She was casually holding a fuschia-painted pistol she'd aptly named the Ladyfinger. You knew because you were the one who modded it out for her. Kali stood behind her, cradling Bad Touch, a sky-blue submachine gun, to her chest. Knowing them, they discussed their plan of attack before rolling up here.

Uma was the brains, the cunning, of the gang, where Kali was a brawn, the brutality. On the rare occasion that Uma's tactics failed, Kali brought down the hammer, solving the problem using pure, brute force.

"As a matter of fact, you can," Uma answered. "We're looking for a friend of ours: a nervous-looking East Asian man, goes by the name of Takahashi."

"You wasted your petrol. No one here fits that description."

"Even so, we'd like to come inside, have a look around... Then we'll be on our way."

"Town doesn't allow armed visitors, I'm afraid," Garcia said, shaking her head. Which was untrue, but a necessary white lie to keep raiders out of their town. "If you'd be willing to surrender your weapons, we'd be happy to open the gate."

Here, Kali scoffed and interjected, "Nope! That doesn't work for us."

"Then there's nothing we can do for you, other than send you on your way."

Uma and Kali looked at each other and shared a smile that meant nothing good for the town. "Understandable," Uma hummed afterwards. "Have a nice night. You never know which one will be your last."

Despite the thinly-veiled threat, neither she nor any of her goons started shooting. Instead, the Twins just climbed back into their truck, made a wide turn, and drove away. And the rest of their convoy followed them.

You watched incredulously as the procession of vehicles disappeared into the distance.

"Well," Garcia said smugly, "That is the end of that!"