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Published:
2024-07-24
Updated:
2025-03-20
Words:
1,690
Chapters:
3/?
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P.J.C. (Protection, Justice, Charity)

Summary:

P.J.C.

 

A project made for the people. Or so it seemed.

 

Or, what if the children's show PJ Masks actually had lore? What if things got really dark? Based off the GunnTech AU created by Elmushterri.

Notes:

Hello all! This fanfic is based on an AU created by Elmushterri. When I saw the video they'd created, my mind immediately went "Yes, this is your new thing to hyper-fixate on." And so here this fanfic was born after reading many, many comments about people wanting a fanfic. I don't know how often or regularly this will get updated or how long the chapters are going to be. We're kinda just winging it here and hoping it works out.

Thanks for stopping by and if you haven't seen it already, check out Elmushterri's video on this AU, it's pretty cool!

https://youtu.be/Og63kBy5t_s?si=nU7xV_VbnQfE1Bbd

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“...following the incident at GunnTech last Monday, Mr. Gunn has released the following statement…”

“I would like to formally and sincerely apologize to any of the unfortunate civilians caught in the blast that occurred on Monday evening. We have been investigating the source and have found the cause to be a low-level security breach. GunnTech's mission has always been to serve the people, and our teams are working diligently to repair the minor flaws in our systems. GunnTech has privately contacted all individuals directly affected by the blast and will be donating…”

The television shut off with a soft click. Conner sighed, running a hand through his hair as he set the remote aside.

“They're still talking about that?” Greg questioned, leaning over the back of the couch, a book in hand.

Conner merely nodded, quietly shifting to make room as Greg climbed over the back of the couch to flop down onto the cushions.

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” Greg said quietly. “There was no way you could've known Night would have backup.”

“It doesn't matter,” Conner replied after a few moments. “We still failed to stop him. He got away. Again. And this time the public got involved. Mr. Gunn got involved. We need to do better.”

“Conner—”

Greg let out a heavy breath, watching silently as Conner stalked out of the room in typical fashion. It'd been a rough week. Harder training, more team exercises, and a lot of cramming in book knowledge between meals and downtime.

He glanced down at the book in hand, quietly placing it on the side table. Perhaps he'd done enough studying for today. No amount of book knowledge could ever properly compare to Night's skill and training. His head was starting to ache anyway.

***

“Uncle?”

Greg poked his head into Grayson Gunn's office, silently praying that now wasn't a bad time. His uncle always hated being interrupted in the middle of his work.

Luckily, Grayson ushered him inside after only a minute of waiting.

“Gregory,” he greeted, offering the boy a seat. “Is something troubling you?”

Greg could see the stress lines on his uncle's face. He always hated dealing with the press, and personally, Greg couldn't blame him one bit. Unfortunately, it also meant his current tolerance for errors was exceedingly low.

“No, sir. I was just curious about the status of our next mission,” Greg inquired. Asking about the press conference now would be like sticking his hand into fire. Definitely not worth satiating his curiosity for.

“Ah, yes.”

Grayson pulled out a stack of papers, rifling through them until he found what he was looking for.

“I've received a tip regarding Ms. Luna. She'll be raiding one of our smaller facilities this coming weekend. I will be meeting with Conner tomorrow to discuss the details. You may inquire with him at that time.”

Greg tried not to feel a pang of jealousy and disappointment at that, he did. Conner was the leader, it made sense that all the information regarding their orders would come to them through him. But sometimes… sometimes he wished he and Amaya could be more involved with things like this.

“Right, of course. Thank you, Uncle,” was all Greg said as the conversation shifted to menial topics.

Things like how boxing was going, how he was doing in training, and his relationships with the other trainees. It was the typical type of conversation Greg had with his uncle. It would seem surface-level to most, but to him, it was a chance to connect with the man who'd raised him.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! Between college, work, and a million other things, this got pushed to the backburner. I have a lot of plans for this book, but like I said in the first chapter, I don't know how often I will have the time or motivation to update. It could be a couple days or a couple months between chapters, it's all just going to depend on how I feel. But I promise I am not abandoning this fic!

Thank you to all the people who left kudos and comments, even if I don't respond, I promise I read every single one! They're a huge motivation boost.

Trigger warnings for this chapter include: PTSD flashbacks and dissociation

Chapter Text

Conner didn't like getting wet. The water would cling to his skin, seep into him, make his hair prickle, and rise in discomfort. It was a simple dislike. Nothing anyone needed to be concerned with. Or so he told himself.

So what if he hated showers? So what if he couldn't stand baths? It's not like it concerned anyone else. He was the leader, the best of Mr. Gunn's operatives. He'd been told so by the man himself. It was his job to keep his team together. Not the other way around. So why… Why couldn't he bring himself to stop shivering?

He could feel the water filling his lungs, limbs flailing uselessly as he sank and sank and sank and…

He couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe he needed—

He could breathe. He was fine. He wasn't sinking. It was just a splash. Just a splash. He was fine. Great, actually. It was just a little water.

He ignored the glances Greg and Amaya shot at each other. He held the team together. He held himself together.

The fight with Luna had turned south. Faulty information. A poor tip. Conner could come up with thousands of excuses. None of them good enough. He hadn't been good enough. He tried to ignore the repercussions of yet another failure upon his head. Yet another dark spot on his team's record. On his record.

He left his charges — friends — behind. He would bear this failure alone. He was the one who'd froze, after all. A little splash from a puddle. That was all it had taken and he'd failed.

Perhaps some more time in the showers with his handler was warranted. Or worse, the pool. Whatever Mr. Gunn deemed necessary for this failure, he would take it without complaint.

The creak of the office door felt like a death bell. The hinges needed oiling again. They always did.

Mr. Gunn's voice was there to greet him. “Ah, Conner! Just the man I needed to see. Tell me, how did the mission go?”

Conner told him. Every last detail. He left nothing out of his report. He never did. Integrity to Mr. Gunn was one of the few things he could always get right.

He could still feel the water prickling at his skin. He let himself drown in it as he was led away.

***

“I'm worried about Conner.” The words spouted from Amaya's mouth the second she reached their dormitory. She knew Greg was behind her. They always hung out after missions, success or otherwise. It was their little tradition, so to speak. Conner used to get in on it, too. Amaya didn't understand how she could miss someone she saw every day.

“It's not just me, right?” She continued. “He seems different. You think he's still in a bad way from the whole Night thing?”

“Probably,” was Greg's response.

Despite the simple reply, Amaya knew Greg was just as worried. Even more worried than her. Greg truly was the best of them.

“Do you think water therapy is helping him?” She didn't wait for Greg to answer her question. “I don't think it's helping. You saw him freeze out there, and that was just a puddle!”

“Amaya—”

“Is he actually going to therapy like he says he is? Is Mr. Gunn's program actually helping him? I haven't seen any improvement and it's been years! What if—”

“Amaya!” Greg cut her off, crossing his arms. “Stop doubting Uncle, and stop doubting Conner. I'm sure Uncle's got the best team possible to help him with this. We just need to have faith he'll get better, and support him however we can.”

Amaya sighed.

“... Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sorry.”

For some reason, she didn't fully believe it. Luna had said a lot of things during their fight. A lot of things that shouldn't make sense but did. Amaya had some research to do.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Guess who's still alive bitches✌️ istg the ao3 author curse is a real thing cause my life has been so shitty lately. This one's even shorter than normal, but I felt bad leaving ya'll high and dry so here's a new perspective for y'all to mull over

Chapter Text

Things were going well, Grayson Gunn liked to tell himself. His company was prospering far beyond the margins set for the year. His employees were successful and diligent. And his little… side project was bearing fruit even as the storm threatened the roots.

The escaped specimens were of some concern. As was the media attention of late. His prized team was growing sloppy. It was something he was already set to correct. Keep the leader in line and the rest follow. The girl he would keep an eye on. He may need to replace her. The look in her eyes had grown rather suspicious in recent times.

C-32 was undergoing more water treatment. Largely unsuccessful, but the scientists still remained hopeful. The boy was surely stronger than the cat. G-21 remained docile. He was still too merciful, but that was an issue to be fixed another time. O-49 was the most disconcerting. She'd always been the most difficult. With neither leadership nor family to tie her down, it was… difficult to keep her eyes away from where they did not belong.

Hence his visit to the dorms.

The girl had skipped out on training the past two days, and it had frustrated her handlers enough for it to be brought to his attention.

Grayson did not knock as he entered. He owned the entire place, after all. And he owned the people inside. He had no need to ask permission to enter what was his.

The other, lesser specimens scrambled to show him the respect they knew he deserved. He paid them no mind. None of them were as successful as those three.

But as Grayson found himself standing in the doorway to O-49's dorm, an empty room stared back at him. Her belongings were still in place, her comics stacked neatly on her shelves. Nothing to suggest rebellion. And yet, O-49 was not here, and Grayson suspected she had not been for the past two days.

He pulled up the location of her tracker, his frown deepening when the blinking dot on his phone screen showed her location to be the facility.

The girl had removed her tracker. Clever, that one. Always had been. He should have known better than to believe such things could be trained out of her. Whether O-49 had uncovered more than Grayson wished or not, the fact of the matter was that she was now a variable he could no longer reliably control.

He sent out an alert to his private security detail. The girl was to be found by any means necessary. She would be re-educated if possible, and if not, she would be eliminated