#GOT HUNG FROM A BLOODY ROPE ON A HELICOPTER

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

AY YO????

IS HE HANGING ON A ROPE STUCK ON AN AC130??????????????

the AC130 (I think? I'm not knowledgeable enough) has like a sort-of ram on the front and it like-- pulled the rope??

And Gaz, being the quick-thinker he is, realized this and thought that the injured comrade will be helpless on his own, SO HE HOOKED HIS OWN HARNESS TO THE INJURED DUDE SO HE COULD SOMEHOW SAVE HIM.

AND THE GUY LEGIT GOT YOINKED

Price was there to hod the riot shield against incoming fires. He probably expected Gaz to return to combat with him once Gaz secured the injured guy up to the airship, but the AC130 (?) pulled the both of them to the sky--

#GiveGazABreak2023

(Edit : Apparently, there's this fast-evac technique called Skyhook (thanks @efingart for the info). Here's an article about it and as far as we can see, apart from the explosion, it's going... according to the manual book... (supposedly)

It's hard to see, but Price actually got yoinked as well at the end together with Gaz and the injured guy, and so it's a reference to the Gulag mission in the OG!MW2! Woohoo!

[fvrxdrm]

Ｆ Ｅ Ｖ  Ǝ Ｒ

|| 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 ||

October, 2000 Republic of Penamstan - 70 miles from U.S. Military Base

"Command, this is Coyote Six. We're 70 miles northwest of the base. Altitude, 1,500 feet. Requesting clearance for landing."

"Coyote Six, this is command. You're cleared to land on Runway Three. Wind, 50 at 14 knots, maximum two-niner-seven-four inches, watch for chop."

Everything looked rusty from afar: the atmosphere, the dry land, hell, even the odor of the air smelled like a mix of everything rotten; floating and teasing the noses of those who were more than a thousand feet from the ground.

The civil war in Penamstan was still going on and nobody knew how long this was going to last. But it seemed like it was dying down, bit by bit.

It was a massacre. Everyone was blazing away their guns, bombing away their bombs, extricating things that weren't meant to be there, creating another Raccoon City but with more living people brawling against their own. The U.S. government knew the war wouldn't end without anybody intervening, and so, they volunteered to send a group of soldiers - the Mad Dogs - to help in ceasing what was going on in Penamstan. But no matter their efforts, the body count just seemed to incessantly grow. It was horrible. When they weren't blowing their firearms they were turning people into mindless zombies, infecting them with a bite on their flesh and spreading disease, even those who weren't involved and were not meant to do so. The land was filled with macabre deaths, another cog in the gut-churning machine and another title in the list of horrible history.

A loud bang boomed somewhere near the captain's chopper before an agitated voice sounded from Jason's radio. "Mayday! Mayday! We're hit! Losing altitude," the voice said. Jason cursed with a light growl as he got up from his seat and looked out of the entrance. There he saw one of the helicopters swirling in a slow circle as it went down to a crash, a fog of black and grey trailing behind.

"Command, this is Mad Dogs. We have visual on Alpha Two, and it's going down," Jason began. "Coordinates 4-2 Sierra Whiskey Alpha-niner-4-6-5-0-6-7-niner-2-niner."

"Team Three, Team Six, this is Command. Stand by," the woman on the radio directed. The captain furrowed his brows in bewilderment at the order and immediately responded with question.

"Wait, what?"

"I repeat, Team Three and Team Six, stand by and wait for orders."

Jason couldn't just hold back and wait for orders. He had to do something. His men were going down and no doubt were those people down there going to finish all of them one by one if they just waited and didn't do anything. And besides, they have a chance at saving those survivors. He wasn't going to just leave them down there to die, that's not their job. Their job is to save and protect people.

"Take us down. We're gonna check it out," he commanded. The pilot of the chopper followed as said and safely lowered them to where they can engage the enemy. Through the radio, those who were monitoring the whole squad persistently sent orders along their way, irked by the Mad Dogs' captain's stubbornness, but Jason ignored them and commanded directives of his own. "All right, when we hit the deck, we light 'em up with the SAWs first, then we go for survivors. Got it?" All soldiers with him huffed in agreement and raised their thumbs up.

"Command to Mad Dogs, stand down and return to formation!" One of the monitors said again with more pressure. The squad paid no heed to the command and slid down the ropes before landing properly. They split up into groups afterwards, finding cover behind cracked walls and firing their guns at those who dared attack them. Dust flew from the ground as heavy boots thudded along the dryness. Those who were at the back of each separated troop turned left and right, making sure no one would be cunning enough to sneak a bullet in them, and those civilians who held up their guns at the soldiers were not lucky enough to dodge even a single bullet.

"Clear!" One of the Mad Dogs yelled. "Bastards took our guys!" Another one said. One of the groups rushed behind the chopper that previously got hit and crashed, finding a soldier pinned beneath the heavy metal, bloodied and unconscious.

"US Army Mad Dogs, can you move?" One of them tried to ask in hopes of hearing the injured talk and in between the line of conscious and unconscious at least. Unfortunately, he didn't get a response and so, two men pulled him out from underneath the helicopter before checking his pulse and cursing under his breath. He was alive, thank God. None of them noticed, but a sneaky combatant rose up on a random truck with an RPG being placed on his shoulder, and in a matter of seconds, Jason and some of his squad were knocked away by the strong force of the weapon.

*****

Somewhere in the cold, dark night, folks of Penamstan circled and danced around in front of a large hand where a few of the dead soldiers were hung. One of them had their legs torn off from their torso, while some of them were still in full shape but ripped up underneath the skin and surely gone and slaughtered. The people threw things at them, smothered them with gasoline, and laughed with such menacing and twisted joy that it looked more brutal than how it should've been.

How sick they were!

How cruel they were!

They were a bunch of atrocious and uncivilized men and women who got no remorse for those who have died in their hands. They never saw the others as human beings, they saw them as ken dolls they were willing to burn down once they saw no fun in them. They had a sick, twisted lust for blood nobody's ever seen unless they've encountered Raccoon City themselves. But even that incident was mediocre compared to Penamstan. In Penamstan, the living ones were zombies themselves, not physically but mentally. Not for long, though. Once the soldiers were wide awake, there was no escaping and all of these were going to be seen and heard by the eyes and ears of a child.

[mx-ishikawa]

Like a fire in My Blood

(so uhhh obligatory Lupin self-insert fic!! this is a li’l backstory of how my S/I got involved with the squad that I’ve been working on for the past couple weeks, lmao. warnings for guns, canon-typical violence, and lots of swearing- y’all know me by now XD” enjoy!)

Tied up to a chair in an abandoned warehouse surrounded by gun-toting mobsters was not planned for my Saturday night. Then again, normalcy wasn’t very present in my life anymore.

“Now you’re gonna tell me one more time, sweetheart, where is that treasure?” the squatty man who I assumed was the leader growled, pointing the gun at my face. What the fuck.

“First of all, I am not as sweet as you think I am,” I spat- how the hell was I so snarky staring straight into the barrel of death itself??- “and second of all, I really have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about so quit insisting I do and let me go!” Surprisingly, he lowered the gun.

“You’re a terrible liar, my dear,” he snarled, going over to where my jacket that had been forcibly removed from my person for some reason was hung.

“Buddy, I was raised by an overprotective controlling helicopter mother, I may as well be a professional liar,” I retorted.

“Well then how the hell do you explain this?!”

I gasped as he pulled out the bright, shimmering green stone from my jacket pocket. FUCK.

“Oh THAT! Jesus Christ, I completely forgot I had that, goddamn!”

“Yeah, sure you did.”

“No, I’m dead serious, I actually forgot about that! Literally, if I had remembered that I would’a told you straight-up because that shit is not worth my life!”

“Well then, care to explain now?”

“Yeah okay so it’s like- I went down State Street, past the Cultural Center, then I kinda went through Millenium Park until I got to the Art Institute, then I took a left and once I got past Lakeshore Drive I hopped over to the left again and- that cluster of trees at the park entrance? It’s literally right there in the middle of them, hidden practically in plain sight! I was just trying to find some worms for composting and I find a shit-ton of emeralds instead, how crazy is that?” I laughed breathlessly.

It wasn’t a joke, no, every word I spoke was true. I was so shocked upon finding the stash of emeralds right there in the middle of Chicago that I immediately covered it back up and ran off-- but not before nicking one, if only as proof that the whole thing hadn’t been a weird fever dream. And possibly for future bragging rights, but other than that, material things like rare precious jewels meant nothing to me. The fact that these happened to be in my favorite color was just a cool bonus. 

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the fat man sneered, huffing away at his fat cigar. “I’ll be taking this and the rest of the emeralds now.”

“Go ahead, I don’t need it or any of the others.” I would have waved my hand dismissively had it not been tied behind my back.

“I don’t understand though… what kind of woman would give up such riches so easily?”

  I tried not to gag. I don’t mind being called a woman, but not with that kind of sexist implication. “Not the kind of woman you’re thinking of, that’s for goddamn sure.”

“Ah well. None of that matters in the end.” He paused to snap his fingers, and two of his biggest men approached with their guns. “Finish her off.”

“Whoa wait WHAT?! Why do you wanna kill me, I fuckin’ TOLD you where the emeralds are-?!”

“And I appreciate that, it’s just that I can’t have any witnesses, you know? It’s only business.” he gave a wicked sneer. The men cocked their guns.

“Fuck you and your business, I won’t tell anyone, I swear! You saw how honest I was, come on, please, I-!”

I screamed and screwed my eyes shut as a shot rang out. I braced myself for the worst. But it never came. 

I finally opened my eyes when I heard a “what the hell?!” from among the mobsters. I gasped as I saw another, new person standing protectively in front of me. Someone who appeared to be wearing traditional Japanese attire, with long black hair and an even longer sword. Who was this person and what the hell happened?!

“FIRE!!” the leader yelled. In an instant, the stranger leaped up into the air and lifted their sword, twirling it around effortlessly as shots were fired at them. What were they do-

My thoughts were brought to a screeching halt as a bullet landed next to me. No, it was only half of a bullet. My eyes widened, looking back up at the stranger with the sword. No fucking way.

From that second, my eyes were transfixed on them. I watched them in shock as they sliced literal bullets clean in half with ease. When some of the men ran off, the stranger leapt forward with a low grunt and slashed their sword through the men’s guns. They gasped in shock and fright as their weapons broke clean in half seconds later. There seemed to be thousands of mobsters in this warehouse, but the sword-wielding stranger took everyone down with ease. Even when their sword was suddenly shot out of their hands, they nimbly avoided impact and took the mobsters down with what appeared to be heavily-practiced martial arts moves. 

Now I’d seen my fair share of bloody fights since mingling with the underground scene in Chicago. Hell, even back in my tiny hometown I’d seen some shit. But never had I seen someone fight so gracefully. Every move they made was so smooth and poised that if I didn’t know any better I’d have thought they were dancing. They caught sight of their sword from across the room and leapt out of the fight to snatch it back. Every move they made with that thing was quick and clean-cut, deliberate and precise, effortlessly slashing anything that came their way. When seemingly every gun was destroyed or emptied of bullets, only a few brave unarmed mobsters remained, but with a few fluid flicks of the swordfighter’s wrist, all of their clothes were slashed off save for their boxers and tighty whities. Not exactly a sight for sore eyes, but it was enough to make even the leader of the mob run away screaming for their lives. 

“Haha, take that ya old geezer!” someone yelled. I gasped and finally diverted my attention from the swordsman to find two more people were in the warehouse, someone with a red jacket and another with a black one. When the hell did they get here??

In that brief moment when I looked away, the graceful warrior had come behind where I was sitting, and before I could plead for them not to kill me, I was freed from the ropes that bound me. I pulled my arms forward and breathed heavily, trying to process what the FUCK just happened when a voice behind me spoke.

“Are you alright?”

Their voice was deep and strong, yet held no tone of aggression or danger. I turned to look at my savior and gasped. It was a handsome- no, beautiful- man. He was tall and slender, standing strong and proud. His pale skin glistened with a thin coating of sweat from all that movement, and I couldn’t help but notice that he wore his shirt in a way that exposed most of his chest. His hands were large and strong, but with long, nimble fingers. He had a narrow face and elegant features. High cheekbones, a defined jawline, a light rosy dusting on his cheeks, and intense, dark eyes. He looked to be stoic and serious, and if he hadn’t just saved my life I might have been intimidated by him. 

“I… wow~... I mean! I’m… safe, thanks to you.”

“And us, too!” a voice from earlier retorted. I whipped my head around, it was the man in the red jacket. “It was a team effort, wasn’t just him ya know.”

“Jeez Lupin, give her a break,” the man in black said, “you weren’t the first one to make sure she wasn’t dead!”

“Well I think I deserve some credit too, Jigen!” the man in red- Lupin- whined.

“I uhh… well thank you everyone but… I didn’t actually see what you two did.

“What?!” Lupin gasped.

“Sorryyy! I just...” I turned back to the handsome swordsman, “you were the first one I saw show up so I guess I just kinda… focused on ya.”

The man called Jigen chuckled. “Hey Goemon, looks like you got an admirer!”

“Hey!” I felt my face heat up. “I just-!” I bashfully looked again to the swordsman- Goemon.

“Goemon… thank you, and your friends, for sa-” I cut myself off as realization clicked in my brain. “Wait a second…” Lupin. Jigen. Goemon. I’ve heard those names together before. “Wait just a minute, I know who you guys are!” Lupin let out a monkey-ish giggle.

“Took ya long enough to recognize me! No surprise though, I am pretty infamous~”

“So it’s safe to assume you’re after the same treasure those mobsters were, right?”

“Bingo,” Jigen said, tipping his hat ever so slightly.

“So, if you guys wanted to get there first… why did you save me?”

“Because unlike them, we do not want harm to come to innocent people,” Goemon nobly spoke. God, something about his voice… clear as a bell, soothing, and undeniably sexy. But his words put me at ease. 

“Oh thank god… so, since you saved my life and all that, how ‘bout I make your lives easier by leading you to the emeralds?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jigen said, and the others agreed. They casually strolled out of the warehouse as if they hadn’t just fought off mobsters in that very space, off to their car parked in front. Lupin took the driver’s seat while Jigen got in the passenger side, leaving Goemon and me to sit in the back together. 

“So,” Goemon spoke once we got moving. Was it just me or did his cheeks get pinker? “What is your name?”

I froze. Shit.

“Uhh… I… I kinda have a beef with my real name, but uh, you can just call me Light.”

“Light, huh?” Lupin piped up from the front. “Where’d ya get that alias from?”

“It’s a long story,” I chuckled.

Goemon shifted in his seat. “I like it.” Cue me blushing again.

“Y-you do?? I mean, thanks…” I scratched the back of my neck. His only response was a nod as he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest.

He was quiet for the rest of the ride, Lupin and Jigen making most of the conversation as I pointed out where to go. But I couldn’t stop looking over at Goemon. He looked so calm, so picturesque. I admired the way the wind wafted through his long locks and how his thick lashes rested against his rosy cheeks. And sometimes, when I glanced over at him, I found him looking right back at me. Like he wanted to say something to me, but didn’t. Something in his eyes made him look so soft. When I first looked at him, those eyes stared right through my soul and meant business, but now there was something much more tender behind them. Almost like… puppy eyes. I felt myself swallow thickly.

My thoughts were brought to a halt when Lupin parked the car on the side of the street. All we had to do was cross Lakeshore Drive and we were on our way to the treasure. Thankfully it was dark out and we’d be less noticed.

“Thank god there’s a bridge here,” Jigen said, puffing at his cigarette. “Because I am not crossing that son of a bitch.”

“Yeah my mom and I made that mistake the first time I was here, we were standing there waiting to get across for ages.”

“Wait, I thought you lived here?” Lupin inquired as we made our way across.

“I do now,” I clarified. “Didn’t always though. For most of my life I lived in this shitty small town about an hour and a half away from here. I’d visited here about six times, so naturally this was my first choice when I finally got the chance to get the fuck outta there. Haven’t been here for very long though, only like what, a couple months maybe?”

“So you were a small-town gal, eh?” Jigen exhaled another breath of smoke. I grimaced.

“Yeah, and I hated it.”

Once we got across the drive and to the site of the emeralds, Lupin started asking more questions.

“So Light, if you were the first person to find this treasure, how come you only took one and not the whole stash? Was it a strategic thing or-”

“Well actually, I found this shit completely by accident, so leaving all but one here was mostly out of shock. That, and I never really cared much for material shit.” Jigen sighed from next to me as he dug.

“Finally, a woman who doesn’t.”

My brows furrowed together. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, if you’re talking about Fujiko again, you’d better can it!”

“Wait, who’s Fujiko??”

“A female affiliate of Lupin’s,” Goemon answered.

“A very unfaithful one at that,” Jigen scowled, “she’s not above stabbing us in the backs to get the loot we earned for herself.”

“Oh come on guys, she doesn’t always betray us!” Lupin whined.

“Makin’ excuses for your girlfriend again,” Jigen grumbled. I dared not make any further comment on this Fujiko thing; seemed like a personal problem. Once we finally uncovered the jewels, I helped load them into a large sack.

“Even if you do not care for material items such as these, it is only fair that you are given a share of them,” Goemon spoke.

“Yeah, we’ll split ‘em up evenly between the four of us!” Lupin smiled.

“Awww~. You know…” I began, “for a group of rag-tag thieves, you guys are pretty nice. Nicer than half the law-abiding citizens I’ve met in my lifetime.”

“Well, you know, it’s all in a day’s work!” Lupin chirped, before his voice suddenly dipped a bit lower. “And you know, you and I could work well together in other areas~”

Goemon bopped Lupin’s head with the hilt of his sword before I could think of a response. Did Lupin just flirt with me??

“Jesus Christ, Lupin, get ahold’a yourself,” Jigen scolded.

I wasn’t sure how to respond so I kept quiet until we were finished with our work, and almost immediately someone caught us.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE LUPIN, YER UNDER ARREST!!” a loud, booming voice yelled. I looked over and saw a tall, stocky man who appeared to be dressed like a detective from the 1940s with a slew of police behind him.

“Oh shit, the feds!” I gasped as we took off.

“Sorry Pops, I got places to go!” Lupin snickered. We sprinted through the park- god I always hated running- until we got to a dock. The man known as “Pops” was hot on our trail, but the guys hopped into a boat and managed to start it up. I was the last to hop into the boat- but I tripped and dropped my bag of emeralds, which thankfully landed inside the boat with a clattering. I braced myself for an awkward landing but a pair of strong arms caught me. And just like that, the boat sped off so quickly that I had to brace myself against whoever was holding me. I heard “Pops” yelling in the distance, but my brain turned it into white noise when I looked up and saw that once again Goemon was my rescuer- and my hand was directly on his chest. My face flamed up like gasoline.

“Gwaaah!! Uhh-” I gasped as I embarrassedly scurried out of his grasp. “Thank you, sorry-!” I brushed my bangs out of my face, a nervous habit.

“Why are you apologizing?” Goemon asked. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, you helped us get to the treasure!” Lupin said from the steering wheel.

“If anything, we should be the sorry ones because now you’re stuck with us and your home is back there,” Jigen chuckled.

“Eh, home is where the heart is,” I said. “And my heart always wants to travel but never gets to.”

“Ah, a free spirit, I see how it is,” Lupin giggled.

“Lord I was born a ramblin’ man~” Jigen softly sang, lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah… I hate staying in one place for too long. Unfortunately for me, I’ve only ever lived in two places my entire life, and we’re rowin’ this boat away from one of them. But hey, this was my first time being personally caught doing something illegal so I’ve been perfectly prepared to just abandon ship and take off at any time.”

“Wait, does this imply you were planning on this? I thought you said you found these gems by accident!” Lupin gasped. I had to laugh.

“Nono, I did! But that doesn’t mean I’m innocent~.”

“So what the hell is it you do?” Jigen asked.

“I’ve been involved in undercover transport of goods, it’s what I do for a living. And before you ask because I know you will, yes, some of those goods are drugs, but not all of it. Sometimes we assist in the trading of riches like these emeralds, and sometimes we get food and water or money for bills to those in need when their so-called government aid won’t. Yeah sure it’s illegal, but it ain’t a bad gig.”

“My ancestors would greatly honor the work you do,” Goemon calmly spoke. The compliment caught me off guard, but when I looked at him I could tell he was sincere.

“Aww shucks, it’s nothing,” I chuffed, scratching the mack of my neck.

“Please tell me your organization is named “The Robin Hood Project” or something like that,” Lupin laughed.

“Actually, we have no name to our services,” I clarified. “Gotta stay discreet.”

“A wise decision,” Goemon said.

“Sorry if we just got you out of a job,” Lupin apologized.

“Naw, this ain’t like no 9-5 gig, it pretty much runs on a ‘come whenever you’re available’ basis, they’ll understand if I’m away… might be surprised once they find out I got wrapped up with Lupin the Third, haha.”

“That’s my name, please wear it out!” the aforementioned thief giggled.

There was a brief moment of quiet before Goemon spoke once again, turning to me. “If you wish to go wherever the wind takes you, then it seems the wind is blowing in your favor tonight,” he nobly said.

“Sorry about him, he likes to get all prophetical and speak in metaphors and shit,” Jigen said.

“No I understand what he’s saying,” I said to Jigen, but I was looking more at Goemon. Was it just me or did he have a small smile on his face? I returned him a smile just in case. “Thanks again for, y’know saving me and everything. Thanks to everyone but… especially you.”

“Yep, she’s your admirer alright,” Lupin laughed.

“Shush up!!” Goemon and I somehow said in unison, before we exchanged shocked glances with each other.

“Jinx! You owe me a Coke!” I yelled excitedly.

“Uhhh…” Goemon averted his gaze and his eyes darted all over, looking confused. It was strange, seeing the man that took down an entire armed mob with nothing but a katana and his own fleetness look so innocent, but that only added to his charms. Oh no, he was way too cute.

“You don’t actually owe her a Coke man, it’s just a thing people say,” Jigen chuckled. Goemon sat forward and crossed his arms, looking slightly embarrassed.

“American expressions of speech remain a mystery to me,” he grumbled, cheeks flushing a deeper rosy pink. Yup, he’s way too adorable. My heart fluttered just looking at him. I was doomed. I was so doo-

“LUPIN YOU LITTLE WEASEL!! STOP THAT BOAT RIGHT NOW, YER UNDER ARREST!!!”

“That same guy again?!” I gasped as a blinding spotlight was cast on us from what I assumed was a police boat.

“Pops, you’re relentless!” Lupin yelled from the front of the boat.

“Sorry, we got places to go and shit to steal!” Jigen chuckled before promptly shooting out the spotlight. This time Goemon deliberately held me flush against him as we sped away from “Pops” for the second time and into the night.

[specialagentlokitty]

Sherlock x reader - All I have

Would you be able to do a Sherlock x reader with Angel with a shotgun by The Cab from your song list please?💕 - Anon❤️

(I'm an angel with a shotgun, shotgun, shotgun

An angel with a shotgun, shotgun, shotgun)

Folding your arms, you leant back agasint the doorframe and silently watched Sherlock.

“Do you need something?” He sighed.

“Nothing.” You smiled.

With that you left and went back to your flat under his. What you didn’t expect was to be knocked out the moment you entered the door.

Get out your guns, battles begun

Are you a saint, or a sinner?

Groaning, you blinked your eyes open. You immediately recognised you were tied to a chair, but the man before you wasn’t who you thought.

“You’re going to give us some information about Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.”

If loves a fight, than I shall die

With my heart on a trigger

“I won’t tell you anything.” You spat.

The man narrowed his eyes and his fist connected with your nose, blood instantly gushing out.

They say before you start a war

You better know what you're fighting for

Sherlock flicked his gaze to the clock then back to the door letting out an impatient sigh.

“Will you stop?!” John snapped.

“Somethings wrong...” Sherlock muttered.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Sherlock stood up and pointed to the door then to the clock.

“Every night at 8pm (Y/N) comes barging through that door to tell us about her day.”

John laughed and placed his newspaper on the arm of his chair.

“Somethings wrong.”

Sherlock stormed out of the flat, down the stairs and banged on your door.

“Bloody Hell Sherlock maybe she’s not home!” John yelled.

Sherlock ignored him and kicked your door open, eyes instantly looking for anything misplaced. That’s when his eyes landed on the drops of red on the floor.

“John!”

Johns footsteps thudded down the stairs and entered your home, he crouched beside Sherlock.

“Blood.”

Well baby, you are all that I adore

If love is what you need, a soldier I will be

“Are you ready to answer the questions?” Your captor sighed.

Smirking, you spat blood on his shoe and shook your head.

“I’d rather die.”

I'm an angel with a shotgun

Fighting til' the wars won

I don't care if heaven won't take me back

I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe

“Mycroft!”

The older Holmes brother rolled his eyes and folded his newspaper and stood up.

“Sherlock and Watson, What can I do for you?”

“Help us find (Y/N).” John said.

Mycroft shook his head.

“I have more important matters to attended to.”

Sherlock growled and stormed over to his older brother grabbing him by the shirt collar and pinning him to the wall.

“Help. Us.” Sherlock growled, “or I tell mother who really broke her favourite chair last Christmas.”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and his younger brother but let out an annoyed grumble.

“Fine!”

Don't you know you're everything I have?

And I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight

Your body aches all over, your brain was screaming at you to just give in but you refused, you refused to sell them out.

They were everything you had and you didn’t want to loose them.

Sometimes to win, you've got to sin

Don't mean I'm not a believer

And major Tom, will sing along

Yeah, they still say I'm a dreamer

Closing your eyes, you leant your head back and silently prayed to Sherlock to find you, he had to be looking for you... right?

What if it was all just in your head? What if he hadn’t noticed you were gone? Surely John has.

They say before you start a war

You better know what you're fighting for

“You’ll give in eventually.”

You watched your captor walk around you with a smirk on his face.

“Don’t be so sure.”

“What are you fighting for?” He asked, “you have nothing.”

Well baby, you are all that I adore

“I have Sherlock.”

If love is what you need, a soldier I will be

“Let’s see how much you really care for him them.”

I'm an angel with a shotgun

Fighting til' the wars won

Sherlock spent the next week working restlessly to find you, and finally it paid off, he and Mycroft found where you were being held.

I don't care if heaven won't take me back

I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe

“I’ll have a unit there within the next hour.” Mycroft said over the phone.

“Not fast enough.”

Sherlock hung up on his shouting brother and pulled out his gun, he turned to John and nodded. John nodded back and they ran in guns blazing.

Don't you know you're everything I have?

And I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight

Sherlock felt a bullet pierce his shoulder, turning around he shot the person responsible and carried on.

“You’re going to get killed before you even find her!” John yelled.

Oh, oh whoa whoa oh whoa

I'm an angel with a shotgun

You heard the commotion as it grew closer and smirked letting out a weak laugh.

Fighting til' the wars won

I don't care if heaven won't take me back

“Game over...” you croaked.

I'm an angel with a shotgun

Fighting til' the wars won

John and Sherlock came to the final door, carefully they opened it, Sherlock entered first followed by John.

There in the middle of the room was you, man behind you with a knife to your neck.

I don't care if heaven won't take me back

I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe

You gazed at the two men and smiled softly.

“She’s a tough one, wouldn’t tell me anything about you. Says you’re all she has.” He snickered.

Don't you know you're everything I have?

(I'm an angel with a shotgun)

“She’s all we need.”

With that, a loud bang echoed through the room. The man fell with a thud and the knife fell to the floor.

And I, want to live, not just survive, tonight

(Live, not just survive)

Sherlock dropped his gun and fell to his knees in front of you. While John worked on your bindings Sherlock held his palm to your face.

And I'm gonna hide, hide, hide my wings tonight

When the rope came off, you fell into Sherlock and he more that willingly caught you.

They say before you start a war

You better know what you're fighting for

“Why are you so stubborn.” He sighed.

“Because I love you...” you whispered.

Well baby, you are all that I adore

If love is what you need, a soldier I will be

Sherlock picked you up and begun to carry you out of the large home, sirens and helicopters could be heard in the distance. Looking down at your battered form. Sherlock felt a tug at his heart.

“Me too.”

TAGS:

Sherlock: @darth-dorle

All: @sitkafay @havlindzk @drakelover78 @sammysgirl1997 @mp0625 @tc5322

[reasonsilovemywife]

Reason #816

This is a long one.  I asked her permission to post this story.  I wanted to share it because it’s such an integral part of who she is.  She is a fighter.  She is strong.  She is a survivor.  While we were dating, I told her there’s a reason she’s here, and I want to be with her to find out what it is.  Many years ago she was diagnosed with Renal Cell Carcinoma and lost her left kidney.  Totally, just POP took it all out and all the cancer was gone.  

But

Before when she was 5, there’s a much bigger story.  This is her story, in her words.  After you read this you’ll understand why her strength amazes me:

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April 1979

In 1979, when I was a blonde haired, blue eyed, little girl of 5, my mom took me to an Easter egg hunt at the local Hill's department store. We were on our way to take our dog, Amy, to the veterinarian. There were these little plastic chickens, with clear tops, some with money, and some with candy inside. All in a pile of straw.

I was standing there sort of corralled with the other kids, in an area roped off with shopping carts and string. Someone blows a whistle and it starts. Almost instantly I get knocked down. The older kids were trampling me. My mom was trying to get to me and she was having a difficult time of it despite her best efforts. Then this old lady, out of nowhere, jumps over the "ropes" and tosses me to my mom. The last we saw of her she was getting trampled. We waited for her, we even paged her, but we never saw her again.

So we head to the vet's office and I ask my mom if I could play outside, she said yes and I was off. (Keep mind this a small town, in the seventies is wasn't half the size it is now.) There I was hanging upside down on a tree when I noticed this little stream. It was landscaped, at the bottom of two rolling hills, and had little flowers edging it. It looked like something out of a storybook, and being the child who was enthralled in such fantasy as princesses and unicorns I went down to see it.

On my way down I noticed a cage off to my left with what I thought were dogs in it. They were timber wolves. One black, one brown. Our dog at the time looked like a timber wolf. And I only watched three shows on tv. Sesame Street, The Electric Company, and 3-2-1 Contact. I knew all the dogs I had been around so I didn't know don't pet strange dogs, because I had never been around a strange dog. I go over to this cage built into the back corner of the house, so that the back, and the right side of the cage are the cinder blocks of the building. The rest made out of a concrete floor with 2x4's stuck in it, with chicken wire running around the 2x4’s, a chip board roof, and little shelter room in the middle inside. The room couldn’t have been more than two by five feet in size, I don't think the entire cage itself was bigger than 6x8 feet, even at five I remember thinking it was awful small.

I had a bag and a sucker from the Easter egg hunt. The department store gave all the kids suckers before the Easter egg hunt began. I went to the cage to pet the dogs, the hole in the chicken wire was only big enough to stick one finger in. I did. My left index finger. One wolf grabbed my finger, and started biting. While the black one with yellow eyes ran around the cage, in the small circles it could, jumping over the other one. I remember thinking he was nice for not biting me. Then I remember seeing my sucker fall in slow motion, and hit the soft dirt with a small poof of dust. The other wolf joins in now.

I'm screaming and pulling on my arm. The hole that was only small enough to fit one little 5 year old finger in, now has my arm up to armpit in it. Somehow, between bites, I managed to yank my arm out. With my now mangled arm out I am running, screaming, and crying while watching the bloody muscle hang from what's left of my arm, by a thread of unshredded tendon. It seemed like forever had passed when I came around the corner there where I found my mom and the vet standing.

They had heard my screams. My mom ran to me in her beige, full-length, cashmere coat and scooped me up with my mutilated arm that was now hung in pieces only connected by fibers of muscle and tissue that had not been severed. I come to in the vet's office. Amy peed on, what looked like a comfortable examination table for people, in the lobby. She always did. The nurse passed out I think because she was behind the counter then gone. They cleaned up where Amy had peed as they were hustling me in the door. The vet ran back the hall. Someone ran after him yelling, my mom I think, I couldn't see who - it was getting dark. The world was fuzzy.

I can't remember how many pints of blood they said I lost other than it was almost all the blood in my body. I woke up in a helicopter. First thing I saw were clouds, and the a guy in white looking very concerned. I lift my head wondering if I've died. No, there's walls with hospital stuff on them. All the guys, even the pilot look at me with, not just concern. I guess they couldn't believe I woke up, maybe I was fighting them, I don't know I can't remember that many details. It took two ambulances, and a helicopter to get me to the hospital in Baltimore. One ambulance from the vet’s to Greenway Avenue Stadium, where the big local homecoming game is played every year, but the helicopter was waiting today. The helicopter to Baltimore. I don’t know when or where we landed, but another ambulance from there to the hospital.

When I got to the hospital one of the Orioles was in for surgery. He had thrown out his arm in the game that night. They heard what happened and asked my parents if I was a fan. "Yes," they told them, "she watches all your games." They gave them game ball from that night, signed in all the sweet spots, by the whole team, even the general manager, to give to me.

After several hours I came out of surgery, the next 72 hours would be crucial. Parts of my arm have to be removed due to the extensive damage. The next day I was taken back to surgery. The report was not good. A massive infection had formed in my arm from the initial trauma. The bacteria were extremely virulent and had to be treated with dangerous toxic antibiotics, more of my arm had to dissected and removed. The surgeons were now worried that I would die from the infection.

My mom was a nurse at Sacred Heart Hospital in our hometown. The nuns gave her a blessed relic with a stone from the well at Lourdes in it, and a piece of Mother Seton's dress. It arrived the next day after my second surgery. My mom held the relic to my arm and prayed. That night I went into surgery with the anticipation of more of my arm being removed. When the surgeon came out of the operating room, my arm was clean and healthy. So they simply cleaned and redressed my wounds, no more sections of my arm had to be removed. My fever had dropped. The infection seemed to be under control.

My mom said I lived in pain day and night. When narcotics were given to ease the pain I only slept in tortured state, haunted by horrible nightmares. It had been days since I rested. I just lay there and screamed. Finally she couldn't stand to see me in that kind of pain anymore, so my mom held the relic to my arm and prayed to god that I would either fall asleep or die. Just as long I didn't suffer anymore, she couldn't bare to watch her child in that insufferable agony anymore. Fifteen minutes later I fell into a peaceful sleep.

The virulent infection persisted in my arm, as is usually common when such a broad area of flesh is not only exposed but has been exposed in unsterile conditions. In spite of this fact 3rd degree skin grafts had to be done. How much of the grafting would be successful was questionable. All went well during the surgery, but it would be days before we knew the outcome of the grafts.

The first report was that 80% of the grafts would heal. While this was good news, my arm was still infected and meant that 20% of the grafts would have to be replaced. My mom again used the relic and prayed. Two days later the doctors announced that 100% of the grafts were successful, which was a miracle in the presence of such an infection.

The infection spread into the bone causing more complications and a major set back. The procedure this time had never been attempted on a child as young as I was. It had now been 3 1/2 months since the accident. My mom came into the room to pray and hold the relic over my arm again. I told her I had already did, not to worry, that everything was going to be alright. The operation was successful, and three weeks later I was discharged.

Six weeks after my discharge I had to return for more surgery. The persisting infection had caused further complications. They began to fear I would lose my arm. I went back in for surgery, but fortunately it was not as extensive as originally suspected, and the infection was once more brought under control.

Three weeks after my second discharge, my elbow became dislocated and small pin-hole openings appeared at the top of my arm with pus oozing through. Pieces of dead bone floated out in the pus. My parents prepared themselves for more surgery, in light of recent complications the outlook was not good. When I was taken to surgery a minor procedure was all that was necessary to repair the damage, and no signs of infection were been detected.

Now that the infection was gone the major skin grafting could begin. This graft required that my arm be sewn to my groin for six weeks. The operation went very well and I was discharged much sooner than expected.

On my 6th birthday my arm was still attached to my groin. I became extremely ill that day. My mom bundled me in a blanket and rushed me to the pediatricians office. My arm was infected again. I had to go back to the city as soon as possible and be readmitted to the hospital. I was too sick to travel that day. My mom held the relic to my arm again that night and prayed while she held me in her arms. I was admitted to the hospital and discharged three days later. This infection was completely under control, and with continued home medications, quickly eradicated.

The next major operation was a nerve graft, to bring back the feeling in my arm. The nerve graft was a success, and no major complications had occurred.

The next major operation to follow was to separate the two bones in my forearm that had grown together. The operation was successful, but shortly after this surgery one of the bones broke. The fracture could not be set because the bones would grow back together so over the next eight weeks my parents were holding their breath as the unset fracture healed.

Since that first trip to the hospital I've had 35 surgeries. I did all kinds of physical therapy for years. Today I have no real problems. I have some swelling in my hand from lack of muscle tissue, poor circulation, and a permanently dislocated elbow. I wear a special glove for it at times. This is the account as I remember it, what I don't remember was documented how it happened, as it happened.

The wolves were destroyed. It wasn't their fault. The vet had gotten them out of the woods as watch dogs. Wolves will only attack a human if starved mad by hunger, rabid, or defending the den. He hadn't fed them for at least two weeks. He also got them out of the country and refused to say where, that left my doctors calling all over the world to find out about exotic diseases. The vet still practiced after that, he died in 2006, no services were held for him. His home and office were in the same place for all those years, about 5 minutes up the road from the house I used own when I still lived in Maryland. Of course we sued, it was settled out of court, he only paid $1.00. The insurance company took care of the rest.