#Heavy's talking about his gun and Sniper's teaching her how to shoot a gun

[bastart13]

I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

  Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine.  Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything ���free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

[hnnyoongs]

akai shuichi headcanons

shuichi wears a beanie all the time because he's self conscious about hir hairline .... and I mean who can blame him? id be too

shuichi saw gin when he was visiting Japan in the 10 years ago flashback and was like ooh long hair is cool AND it'll piss ka-san off flash forward 5 years later when shuichi infiltrates the BO and is like fUck cool long hair dude is a psycho

shuichi cut his hair off when he heard akemi was killed by gin he kinda went into the whole mental breakdown mode and was like fuck this shit because he started growing his hair out cuz of gin and also akemi really liked his long hair

shuichi used to be a band kid when he lived in England and wanted to pursue a career in music (much to the chagrin of Mary) but after tsutomu disappeared he was like fuck that and stopped playing until he entered the BO

shuichi has a really bad memory about things that dont have to do anything with his job kinda like BBC's Sherlock but not as bad

shuichi used to find dead bodies when he was a kid just like shinichi but it wasn't as often maybe like a dead body once a year or something

shuichi named himself dai because that's what Mary actually wanted to name him when she was giving birth she was screaming die die die and tsutomu wasn't there yet so she was like aight die sounds like the japanese name dai the only reason shuichi wasn't named that was that tsutomu burst in and was like FUCK NO

shuichi was picked on when training for the FBI since compared to 6 foot jock white men shuichi was a 5 foot 7 asian with long hair and dressed like a teenage girl who frequented Starbucks in the toxic environment of the FBI for anyone who doesnt fit the mold shuichi had it cut out for him

shuichi showed signs of multiple mental illnesses but they were all difficult to pin down so he was never diagnosed with anything since he refused to talk at the FBI mandated therapy sessions

shuichi's type is someone who is kind but could wield a gun

he used to dislike kids but being around them as okiya has made SOME kids special in his heart

before tsutomu's disspeareance he taught shuichi how to hunt with a shotgun

shuichi lived off of sports drinks and bars whenever he was single since he couldn't rely on take out due to it being unhealthy which wouldn't help his FBI styled life

shuichi taught akemi simple self defense techniques but refuses to teach her how to shoot a gun saying he didn't want her hands to get dirty

shuichi and shukichi blackmail each other for favors by using the "ill tell ka-san you did that one thing that you blamed dad for when we were kids if u dont help me out"

scotch once told him that bourbon's type was a white milf (in reference to Elena who was white and was a mother) so shuichi was scared as fuck when rei met Mary's adult self for the first time

shuichi hates being compared to his mother but the truth is they're the most similar and they both started mimicking tsutomu after his disappearance

the only thing shuichi knew how to cook before meeting yukiko was plain white rice as that was the only thing tsutomu was able to teach him

shuichi mimics an American accent while talking in America or talking in English unless he's talking to his family or he's mentally shook up and his British accent slips out

he thinks in British accented English as well (idc if the animanga shows him thinking in japanese it makes no sense that western raised people like Jodie and camel think in japanese) but he does use some japanese like ka-san and when he's trying to get deep into his okiya persona

he tries very hard to keep the polite speech patterns of okiya Subaru since as akai shuichi he's very .. rude

shuichi's sniper skills were so good the fbi was willing to overlook his disrespect of authority and his tendency to do everything by himself without consulting everyone

shuichi slips into a British accent around James if he's feeling really comfortable

he felt bad about using shiho since she was only a year older than masumi and she hadn't done anything wrong so he vowed to get her and akemi out of the BO

he had a plan to get akemi and shiho out by convincing the higher ups to grant them immunity if they testified but akemi's death derailed the entire thing

he hates to admit it but his family is the most important thing to him he may not contact them that often but he's going to such lengths to bring his father back because he cares for his family so much

shuichi didnt really know what he wanted to do with his life once he took down his father's pursuers but after akemi and scotch he decided that if he solved his father's disappearance first he'd hunt down the BO next tho once learning that Haneda Koji’s death had something to do with the BO he's back at the thing where he doesn't know what to do with his life without revenge

he promised shukichi that he'd be the one to solve shukichi's death if what happened to Haneda kohji also happens to shukichi

he isn't a fan of dates in amusement parks but if it makes his partner happy and smile he'll have fun

dating Jodie was a quiet thing most likely from an attachment maybe due to a bad case or a loss of a mutual friend depending on the agency they might have been legally allowed to date each other but it is usually looked down upon I dont think they went out together often probably spending time together at home ... doing stuff

he identifies as bisexual it was normal to him in childhood since both Mary and tsutomu talked about their past relationships to their children he never told anyone due to the fact it would affect his FBI status since it was illegal in America shukichi and Mary know he's bi but shuichi has no idea Mary knows

akemi and shuichi would take strolls in parks go shopping and go to cafes

he's very self conscious about his height and whenever he goes to Japan it makes him feel good about himself since he's relatively tall there

Mary was the one who drilled japanese into his head not tsutomu

the last time shuichi talked to Mary was when he called her up to tell her to take masumi and leave Japan for Britain after masumi cornered him and scotch him and Mary had a whole argument and after that they stopped talking to each other, not that they talked to each other much in the first place

shuichi learned jee kun do by watching training videos from vhs tapes/cds/YouTube depending on when you consider detco taking place I personally believe conan shrinks in 2018 meaning that tsutomu disappeared in 2001 and shuichi used a mixture of tapes and cds to learn

shuichi can read people really well but has a hard time manipulating people by being nice he can use people by being a jackass very well but trying to be a normal person is hard for him

Yukiko and yusaku remind shuichi of his parents before tsutomu disappeared but like more upbeat

shuichi dislikes full body hugs

akemi and shiho were both anime and romance drama fans so he knows random things about the shows and uses that info to connect with the DB and especially haibara

he considered himself British first and foremost but when asked about whether he considers himself white or asian he'll always go with asian

he started smoking soon after his father disappeared since his father used to smoke and he needed to cope but didn't wanna fall into drugs like cocaine

smoking is heavily looked down upon in America and is seen as unprofessional which helped shuichi go undercover a bunch due to him being a heavy smoker

akemi would make him stop smoking around her and shiho saying that second hand smoking was dangerous and that shuichi who was smoking constantly was going to get lung cancer but he would tell her that he just couldn't stop smoking he did stop smoking around shiho and akemi tho going outside to do it instead

as okiya it makes him go wild because he desperately needs to smoke to cope but okiya cant smoke it doesnt fit his image so he smokes a shit ton at night during his nightly drives

shuichi forced himself not to smoke during his time visiting Japan when he met masumi because he knew Mary would get even more upset with him

shuichi was terrible driving American styled cars and he got so upset that he perfected his drive-in techiuque over the years just to spite the instructor that said he was barely passing

he likes to go on late night drives and speed on the high way because he's a thrill seeking idiot

he has no social media but he created on as okiya Subaru to keep an eye on haibara's higo stan account

he takes offense to the idea that he's stalking haibara he's just p r o t e c t i n g her

he wants shiho to be happy more than anything so he's an avid coai shipper and is exhausted in Conan's obliviousness

shuichi didnt tell shukichi he wasn't actually dead shukichi just walked up to okiya Subaru one day and was like shuuichi-ni-san right? shuichi has long stopped questioning shukichi's weird ways of knowing shit he shouldn't know

shuichi is a sherlockian but he's not like shinichi or hakuba in that he does not hate BBC's Sherlock and actually enjoys it a bit

one upside to shuichi living in America is that he gets to hoard guns because he's obsessed with them he thinks they're really cool it's like conan with Sherlock he starts yapping his mouth of about them

bourbon once dangled a gun on in front of a sleeping shuichi cuz he didnt believe scotch when he said that rye was obsessed with guns and started saying incorrect shit about the type of gun he was holding and shuichi just shot up and started berating him

shuichi hates that chianti is a killer because she's the only person who's as much as a gun fanatic as he is

he tends to steal Jodie's car a lot

he likes fucking with peoples heads it's very fun to him to watch them get all worked up

shuichi hasn't mourned his father yet because he doesnt believe his father’s dead

deep down he blames his father for his mother going slightly bonkers

he didnt want masumi to be a detective at first but now hes proud of her

he drinks a lot as okiya Subaru since he cant smoke as much

he's willing to go to hell if it means he can rip gin from limp to limp

he really hates gin yall I dont think I can convey how much he hates gin

[dreamersdreamloud]

Drug Cartels (Part 1?)

Lena Luthor x Boss Cartel Reader 

AN: attempted rape, betrayal, strong language,  

The Luthor Cartel and Los Reyes Alfa Cartel have been in a drug war for a couple of years. The older generations knew how it all started but as the years went by, the lines have been blurred and the people had a hard time who to put their trust in. The two drug groups weren’t always like this before until a turnt of leadership led them into this direction.

It all started when two men from college wanted to start a business to make quick cash. The easy way to do that is to sell drugs. A shit ton of drugs. The two men became popular by name within their community. (Y/F/N)(Y/L/N) and Lionel Luthor have become popular within a month of sales. It’s a given fact that college students love doing drugs whether it's smoking it up or shoving it through their nostrils. They both agree that they want to keep this business stable but their supplier was lacking on them. 

Lionel pitched an idea that they should drop out of college and use his remaining inheritance money to create a warehouse supply in Mexico. It was relatively cheap at the time to buy land and start work. The two men drop out of college and disappear to Mexico to start a booming life. 

It was fairly easy. They got connected with American sellers and hired a bunch of Mexicans for the work. They called themselves the Templar Cartel. Lionel kept track of supplies and how it gets delivered while your father kept track of making deals and where the money was flowing. They become rich in the same year. They threw their money almost everywhere and anyone who needed it. They became the untouchable heroes . They hired lots of men for protection and women for pleasure. Life was going good for them until the Mexican and American government wanted to shut them down. 

The governments were getting frustrated with the rise of overuse of drugs, violence, and gang related fights. At first they didn’t know why and how but they found out that drug lords were the problems. At first, tensions grew between the Templar Cartel and the Mexican government. On both sides, many have lost lives from their own members or family. 

Lionel and your father brainstormed a plan to ease off from the government. They paid off Mexican officials to do some of their dirty work and create two branches within the Templar Cartel to cover more ground. More drugs and money production to flow in. It was doing really well until the American government finally got involved. Their efforts of hunting down warehouses were impressive but very dangerous. 

Lionel and your father have finally decided to go their separate ways and made a verbal agreement with several witnesses to not harm either drug group and hope for the best from out running the police and the ignorant government officials who betrayed them. 

*** 

A year and half later 

Lionel had found the love of his life. Lillian. He met the woman who was vacationing at one of the most beautiful Mexican beaches. They hit off pretty well and manage to keep a healthy relationship to the point where Lillian agrees to marry the leader of the Luthor Cartel. It wasn’t long for them to produce an heir, Alexander Luthor. Also known as Lex Luthor. Lionel was very pleased that his first child is a son who he can bond with and teach the ways of the Luthor Cartel. 

By the time that Lex was 14 years old, he found out that his father cheated on Lillian with an Irish woman when he visited Ireland for a business trip. The trip was about making new deals to send out drugs for that area. Lionel made a drunken mistake and fucked a woman during his trip out there. Lillain was upset for a while but they were able to talk it out and kept the marriage strong. When Lena Luthor was born, she wasn’t living in the Luthor compound yet, until after turnt of events. 

Lena’s biological mother was purposely shot by a rival gang. The backstory was when Lionel was in a meeting that day. Lena and her mother went to a beach to enjoy the nice warm day. Lena’s mother went for a swim and Lena walked around the beach to collect seashells. 

On her mother’s final moments, Lena heard a loud gun shot being fired from afar and she saw a bullet go through her mother’s head. A clean shot. Members of the Luthor Cartel tried to chase down the sniper. One member retrieves little Lena to safety just in case the sniper were to shoot again. 

Little Lena did not cry nor scream at her mother’s death. She knew what was going on and all felt helplessness in her heart. Lionel and his men took less than a week to find out who murdered her mother. A phony small drug gang who tried to scare out the Luthor Cartel for crossing their Irish territory. Lionel sent out orders to kill all the members of the drug gang. 

Lillian and Lex accepted Lena warmly but did not get much attention as Lex. The soon to be rising leader of their family cartel. Lionel has been training the young man into becoming a successful and ruthless leader. Lionel would give some training to Lena too but he always thought it was best that she stayed in school and stray away from the family business. 

*** 

A tragic day happened within the Luthor Cartel. Lionel Luthor was finally shot down by the CIA. The Americans have caught up with the cartel leader and brutally shot the man in public. The news spread so quickly. Lillian sent out members to pull out Lena and Lex from school to make quick changes of leadership. 

Lex became the new cartel leader. Lillian went into hiding because the Americans were hunting her down as well. Lena had a choice to go into hiding too but she decided to stay with her brother to help lead. She was angered by her father’s death but she can’t believe she was experiencing the same helplessness she once felt for her dead mother. Lex wasn’t coping well either. His rage was concerning but no one dares to question him. 

Lex sent out plans on expanding and killing many of those who were in the way. Lena supported his ideas and thought it was necessary. The Luthor siblings were unstoppable until Lena had a change of heart. She witnessed her brother send out orders to kill an innocent man’s family just because that man had pissed off him. 

Lena tried to convince Lex to stop the execution. She failed. She saw that Lex’s men shot the man and woman in front of their children and then the children became the next target. Lena cried for them that day. She cried out for many other family members but she did nothing to help. She let her brother do it. 

Her brother created more problems for the Luthor Cartel. He has started a war with Los Reyes Alfa Cartel. Lena and Lex knew that the leader of that cartel was once close friends with their father. They knew the history of how this all started  but never saw the face of the leader. Lex didn’t care for the old connection and threw the known verbal agreement out of the window. Lex stole clients and killed members of Los Reyes Alfa. 

Lex was growing insane and became hungry for more power. He threw a proposal to his sister on how to gain more power and money by sending her off to marry a cartel leader from Africa, James Olsen of Los Caballeros Negros. Lena rejected. She refuses to be in a arranged marriage with an unknown man who was know to rape women and kill families of those who disobey them. 

This angered Lex. He slapped Lena across the face and said “how ungrateful of you to refuse such a great opportunity! We are trying to build a bigger empire! For our father! For us!” 

Lena didn’t cry. She glared at him. She was going to hit him back but his two close  men, Ben Lockwood and Morgan Edge, took her away and locked her in her room. A few hours later, Morgan came back with handcuffs in his hands. 

“Your brother told me you need some warming up to do.” The disgusting man rubbed his clothes cock and eyed Lena from head to toe. “He says that this might change your mind. Once I’m done with you, I’m sure you’ll change your mind about your brother’s proposal.” 

Lena panicked. The man is going to rape her. She’s still a virgin too. She wasn’t going to let this man take her pure form. She didn’t scream because she knows that won’t help. Morgan holds her down and rips her tight skirt. She felt the hard cock hit her thigh. She kicked and punched the man. 

“You bitch!” Morgan slaps Lena’s face and tries to hold her down again. He attempted to unzip his pants with one hand but Lena kicked again but this time in the right spot. The man groaned on the ground and held onto his manhood. The raven-haired woman picks up a heavy object and knocks him out with a single blow to the head. 

She grabs the combat knife and gun on his body and quickly packs a backpack full of essentials. She manages to get out of the Luthor compound and makes a run for it. She doesn't know where she’s going but she knows she can’t stay within the Luthor Cartel territories. Eventually, the woman who used to run the Luthor Cartel with her ruthless brother is now on the run. 

When Lex found out that she escaped, he sent out groups of people to hunt for the young Luthor. Little did he know, Lena ended up hiding in the Reyes Alfa grounds where her faith could be unpredictable.

[mojavehearts]

Fallout 4 Companions react to synth of soles spouse

ROMANCED 

REQUESTED!

(Did only the romanceable companions for this one! I’m sorry if anyone’s upset that others like nick, deacon ECT weren't included :((( I would happily add them if it was really wanted though :)) ) 

(also to who requested it I’m sorry it took so long ! xx)

I tried to base this one on their personalities/how ive seen them ingame deal with things

(also ‘some’ of these assume that Sole took in Synth Shaun but if your sole didn’t just...Disregard it hsjdkfj)

Cait:

Cait LOVED just walking around with Sole, every-so-often fighting some raiders or supermutants or feral ghoul. But she never thought that on their way back, upon entering Sanctuary their Spouse would be standing right at the gate waiting for them, but this couldn’t be ? They were dead...Right? Sole took Cait to see their body...Cait was unimaginably scared and already heartbroken, would Sole leave her now? what would happen to them, to her and the person she loved so much, her rock. Sole was just as shocked as Cait was turning to Cait and then back to their presumed dead Spouse, but sole knew deep down it wasn’t them, couldn’t be. ‘’Cait, go home and wait for me can you? I promise ill be back soon’’ every bone in Cait’s body wanted to refuse but she didn’t she walked on and hated herself for it, she sat on the couch legs shaking, picking at her nails and biting at her fingers for what felt like forever until she heard the door open, she immediately turned her head to the sound, sole stood there eyes deep and murky Sole flopped down beside Cait with a sigh and then turned to her with a sad smile ‘’Synth...Shaun definitely has his father/mother’s sense of humour..’’ they laughed dryly and Cait swallows deeply ‘’So ..You just gonna throw me away then?’’ Sole raises an eyebrow at Cait ‘’Why in gods name would I do that Cait? ‘’ ‘’Synth or not they’re your husband/wife, that would mean more to you than me’’ Sole shook their head, pulling Cait close with a sigh ‘’It’s not like that, you’re what matters to me now alright?, I love you Cait’’ That was enough for cait, usually she would be flying off the rails, breaking things, beating on their spouse, but the way Sole said what they said she believed it.

Curie:

(why aren't there enough gifs out there of this BEAUTIFUL woman I cant omg)

Curie stood there, frozen. staring deep into the eyes of Soles ‘dead’ spouse as they looked around the room curiously, Sole had gone out for the day and Curie was just doing some housework when they casually walked in, she didn’t make a sound and they finally turned and jumped with a yelp, making curie scream out, then they both just looked at each other wide eyed and breathing heavy, she had half expected them to hurt her or yell at her or something for being in their spouses house, pictures of Curie and Sole were framed basically all over the house, it didn't take a genius to realise what was going on, but their spouse smiled at her ‘’Thank you, for taking care of Him/Her, when I was created I was just made to help...But I got free I wanted to know who ‘I’ was or who I am or who I was meant to be but I know now that I may be have the same body, same memories. But I assure you I’m not here to damage this relationship I may have the same body, but I’m a different person’’ Curie was pleased and looked back to them with a soft smile, maybe just maybe it would be okay ‘’Let me make you something to eat’’

Danse:

Danse wanted to take Shaun out for the day, teach him how to shoot and how to hunt. Sole had insisted that he and Shaun bond more and Danse NEVER says no to Sole, not that he’d want to Shaun was a lovely kid, a little soft around the edges but he’s sure he would...Uh grow? into a fine man

Danse had helped Shaun learn how to make his bullet land better from afar and he was doing quite well shot a mongrel dog from a few feet away behind a bush ‘’Congratulations soldier, Ill go bring it over maybe your mother/father will mount it, ‘Shaun’s first big kill’ you know that sounds pretty violent actually’’ Shaun laughed a little and took a seat in the ground Danse smiles at him and ruffles his hair ‘’Ill be right back buddy, you keep practicing’’ It wasn’t exactly to far and he made sure Shaun was still in his sights and that he could hear more practice shots but as he was walking back he noticed them stop he walked a little faster and then dropped the carcass ...Was that...Shaun was laughing and smiling up at the man/woman ‘’Danse! look! they must have made them too!’’ Danse was shocked and quite disturbed he watched as their spouse stood and turned to him, a slight smile on their face ‘’Shaun was telling me all about you, you’re raising him well’’ Danse felt his chest slowly untighten, the BOS paladin in him wanted to believe this was a way to hurt him, hurt Sole, but he knew he and this person were one and the same now, but it still stung so he just brushed them off and walked past them to check up on Shaun ‘’I wouldn’t hurt him, I know he’s not technically my son, but he’s still just a boy’’ for some reason the words ‘my son’ struck Danse hard in the chest and he stood ‘’I don’t know why you are here but you’d better leave, Sole has moved on. For good’’ Danse couldn’t control himself in that moment and the other just sighed ‘’I understand, but there is not were else for me, I thought, I think maybe Sole can help’’ Danse’s nostrils flare slightly ‘’You get your help but you stay away from my family alright’’

Hancock:

(im sad the only gif of him smoking I could find was a modded version of him :(( )

Hancock was back in Good Neighbour ‘Mayoral’ business and such, he was just enjoying a cigarette when his doors slammed open, Fahrenheit immediately jumps up to defend Hancock, when he then notices who it is ‘’What the-’’ ‘’You stay away from my wife/husband!’’ they yelled at him, practically spewing venom Fahrenheit turns to Hancock eyes wide as if to say ‘what the fuck I thought this guy/chick was dead!’ he just waves her away ‘’It alright, I’m sure we can talk about this like adults’’ he puts out his cigarette and stands slowly ‘’You stay away from my partner!, you...UGH what even are you’’ Hancock was used to people saying things like this so it didn't really affect him all that much ‘’Hey, don't piss me off are you forgettin’ I got guards here?, look I don't know why you’re so upset you’ve been ‘dead’ for years now, me and sole got a whole thing goin on’’ ‘’dead?...I’m not...dead!’’ Hancock tilts his head to the side, what the hell was going on here ‘’Sole saw you die friend, back in the vault’’ ‘’what?! no we got out and then the institute took us in but they went missing and they couldn’t fine them!, that's where I woke up and then someone destroyed it! after asking around I find out they’re this whole new person and that they’re with...You?!’’ Hancock knew then what was going on and sighed softly, leaning up against the wall ‘’hate to break it to ya buddy you’ve been dead for 60 plus years’’ he then chuckles ‘’come to think of it I think its 69 now...Damn I’m old’’ their spouse had had enough ‘’stop with this funny business! I was in the army/I was a lawyer!’’ Hancock groaned slightly and stood up straight ‘’You want proof? then deal with me for a little while and ill show you’’

it was...Long and tedious and frankly very awkward but they were finally in the vault, staring back at the ‘real’ spouse ‘’I...Oh my god I think I’m going to be sick..’’ Hancock nods in agreement ‘’Sole wanted to bury ya but things always get in the way, listen I never met to take em from ya but there’s some things you gotta know now’’

MacCready:

MacCready and Sole were having a great time together, watching Shaun and Duncan play when suddenly someone came running up to them embracing Sole quickly Mac gasped out and pulled out his sniper ‘’Oh honey! I’ve been looking everywhere for you I just woke up, somewhere I-I I don’t even know how to explain I...You look so different-’’ they then trail off and turn to Mac holding a gun to their head in shock ‘’Hey buddy put it away this is my wife/husband’’ Maccready looks at them and then Sole helplessly and then to Duncan and Shaun and then frowns deeply slowly holstering his weapon ‘’I get it...’’ he didn't know if he should laugh or cry, frankly he didn’t even know what he would have done if Lucy had come back would he go back? he loves Sole with his whole being but...’’No, I’m not’’ Sole blurts out ‘’What!?’’ both their spouse and Mac say at the same time in shock ‘’I’m married Nate/Nora, to Robert.’’ Sole takes MacCready’s arm and holds it, their spouse looks at them both in shock and Mac could have just melted at that moment, he was on cloud nine but his conscious spoke out ‘’But...Sole they’re your-’’ ‘’I don't care who they are or were or... whatever!, I saw them DIE so I know for a fact that its not...Really them anyway, even if they were that isn't me anymore, I love YOU’’ and here comes the heart eyes, he couldn't help but to be real smug about it either smirking slightly at their ex they look on in confusion, this was gonna take a lot of explaining

Preston:

It was during the raid on the institute people yelling and shooting, Preston was full of fury and love his newly found relationship with sole had really helped him gain a lot of confidence back in himself, they helped him become the man he wanted to be, well the man he always was and he couldn’t thank them enough for that really.

They ran together into a room guns at the ready to fire but when they walked in there was a man/woman holding up their arms 

Sole puts their weapon down in shock ‘’Preston...look’’ Preston takes a good look at them and his eyes widen he turns back to sole and they share a glance ‘’P-Please don’t kill me’’ they didn’t recognise him/her, Preston felt bad for feeling relief that they didn't but he was weighing the odds of Sole leaving him already ‘’Lets take them with us, get them to safety...Please I can’t think of them dying again, even if its not them’’ Sole whispered to Preston softly, the flawed part of him was anxious and wanted to leave them there, but the better part of him knew that wasn’t what he was like and he nodded at Sole, they went through the rest of the Institute wiping it clean at the end Sole had even seen the synth version of their son, which made them go into hysterics, sobbing and holding him close. It was a good and bad day for them both

but also relieving 

Preston strutted around Sanctuary later that day, anxious as hell, worrying if Sole wanted to leave him and start again with their son and husband/wife so when a hand came down on his shoulder he jumped ‘’Oh god preston im sorry didn’t mean to sneak up on you’’ Sole stared at him with gentle eyes and he could have fallen inlove all over again ‘’Babe I-’’ Preston sighed not being able to let out the words he wanted to, Sole shook their head slowly ‘’You’re an open book you know that? I love you, now come home Shaun needs to formally meet you’’ Sole kisses him softly on the nose and pats his chest, walking away slowly

and his worries all melted away

Piper:

Piper was writing a new paper, it was all she had seemed to do lately since sole was out on this strange railroad mission (if your sole didn’t side with the railroad/didn't join it or anything just change it to B.O.S or whatever you’d like) that they knew they would be gone a while for, it had been two weeks or so now and Piper missed them ...Like really bad, so she was writing paper after paper to try and keep her mind elsewhere, but resting up on their bed at Homeplate she just couldn’t tonight, she wondered if they were okay if they were eating or sleeping enough, if they were hurt. It was a lot to take and she wondered if she needed a cigarette 

but then the door squeaked open ‘’P? you here?’’ 

‘‘Blue!’‘ 

Piper jumped up excitedly and raced down the stairs squeezing Sole into a tight hug ‘’I missed you too Piper, but hey you better look at what I found’’ Piper was confused and slowly let go of Sole, her eyes widen when she’s met face to face with an exact copy of their ex, she knew it couldn’t have been them, because sole buried them in Sanctuary ages ago ‘’Blue I- what’’ she was lost for words to be honest 

‘‘Oh believe me I was just as shocked when I found them, there was this whole synth refuge up in the capital wasteland! they all had the mind wipe but no face change ...I had wondered why and then realised all of those people were replicas of dead spouses from my time...a bit Sick right? they were the newest one’‘ Sole almost chuckled as their ‘ex spouse’ walked around eyeing everything ‘‘I just ...wow Blue! wait... you ain’t leaving me right...Right?!’‘ Piper joked at first but then realised the gravity of the situation Sole laughed and took her hand softly raising it up to kiss her knuckles ‘‘oh my god P’‘

(the fact that you can tell which ones I wrote first and then which I wrote after I woke up from my intense sleep fjfhfffdhsj) (Im sorry again for the wait! )

[crowcaged]

read on ao3

Beatrice killed the first band of Scorn that came close to their safehouse before Uldren pointed out, acerbically, that if Fikrul were trying to decide whether to approach, slaughtering his scouts would not encourage him. The next group sniffed around and went away unharmed, so Uldren hoped that Fikrul would appear soon. But in the meantime, they waited.

The oppressive silences clearly didn’t bother Beatrice, and Uldren would be damned before he’d prove any less patient than she was, so it was Jolyon who broke first. He pulled out a pack of cards. “Guardian, do you know how to play Queen’s Bluff?”

She didn’t, so Jolyon said he’d teach her. Then he glanced up at Uldren, very nearly the first time he’d met Uldren’s eyes the entire trip, and added, “It’s quite difficult to play with just two people, though.”

Not quite an invitation, and Uldren considered rejecting it, just to show that he wasn’t desperate for company -- but he was. So he went and sat on the floor with the two of them as Jolyon started shuffling the cards.

It proved an immensely satisfying exercise, because Uldren happened to be fantastic at Queen’s Bluff, and Beatrice decidedly was not. She did, of course, have an excellent poker face, though lacking facial muscles was arguably cheating in that regard. But like any beginner, she struggled, and Uldren took great pleasure in beating her again and again.

“Come on ,” Jolyon said, sounding almost as frustrated as Beatrice’s body language suggested she was, as Uldren casually tossed down yet another winning hand. “Give her a break.”

“Why should I? She’s never given me a break.”

“We did get you out of prison,” Beatrice’s ghost pointed out. “And spare your life, before that.”

“That was your mistake,” Uldren said, snottily.

“I’m rather glad she did,” Jolyon said mildly, as if he meant nothing by it. But Uldren looked at him sharply, because that was the first sign his old friend had given him that he actually cared that Uldren was still alive.

“So am I,” Uldren said finally, after a notable pause. He was glad, these days, although there had been times when he’d thoroughly cursed her decision to prolong his misery.

“Then the least you could do is let her win at cards,” Jolyon replied.

“Not to interrupt,” said Beatrice’s ghost, interrupting, “but all our external sensors just went out. And the last thing I registered on them was a large group of Scorn heading this way.”

Jolyon dropped his cards and went for his guns. Beatrice took the time to put her helmet on before standing. She didn’t have to go fetch a weapon; her ghost materialized a sword onto her back, a pistol at her waist, and her bow into her hands.

Uldren got to his feet more slowly, since he had no gear to grab -- except his helmet, but he suspected he’d fare better if the Scorn could see his face.

They’d prepared the area immediately outside the safehouse for combat, the ghost transmatting sturdy crates and barriers into strategic spots. Jolyon climbed into a sniper’s nest while Beatrice and Uldren picked defensive positions. Beatrice’s wasn’t very well-chosen, Uldren saw, looking over, but he wasn’t about to offer her advice.

Uldren himself still didn’t have a gun. Of course, if all went well, he wouldn’t need one; he was just here to talk to the Scorn. But when in his life had events ever complied with the best-case scenario?

The three of them sat there waiting for the better part of a minute before the safehouse door slid open behind them and a spiny Eliksni captain emerged, glanced across the battlefield, and immediately started shooting at Beatrice, who -- with a guardian’s idiotic courage -- stood mostly exposed behind a waist-high barrier.

They hadn’t expected attack from within the safehouse; their defenses weren’t set up for that. As more Eliksni joined their captain, Uldren darted into a new position that offered him better cover from behind and jammed his helmet on just in time to hear Beatrice’s ghost over comms: “ -- der betrayed us!”

“And he knows how to deal with ghosts,” Uldren said, “so I recommend you keep yours hidden.”

If she was even still alive … Uldren looked over to see that Beatrice had found better cover, too, and the scorch marks on her coat were fading as her ghost repaired her gear alongside her body. Must be nice. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up at him and, to his surprise, and slid her hand cannon across the floor towards him. Her aim wasn’t good, but he managed to catch it. Well. Good. A moment later a box of ammo landed by his foot as well.

Then the shooting started proper.

The three of them were vastly outnumbered. It was a bloodbath. Or, rather, an Ether-bath.

Beatrice was, Uldren had to admit, brutally effective, even if she fought in a way that a mere mortal never could have gotten away with. She seemed to have only a vague understanding of the concept of “cover,” preferring to stand and face the Eliksni head-on until they shot holes in her, then duck behind a barrier while her ghost healed her. Uldren, more cautious, made it through without a scratch, pleased to find that his combat abilities had not utterly atrophied. And Jol performed as expected: flawlessly.

“The Scorn should be here any second,” the ghost said as the Eliksni corpses cooled. It hovered over them, scavenging ammo, and Uldren joined it. If Spider had prepared his soldiers to deal with Beatrice and her ghost, then -- ah, yes. That would be useful. He also grabbed one of the Vandals’ rifles, to explain his search and because he might genuinely need it. Though if all went well, the fighting was over -- the Scorn shouldn’t attack Uldren, not once they recognized him. Towards that, he took his helmet off.

But of course it wasn’t that simple. The first wave of Scorn were Stalkers, throwing firebombs at Beatrice and rushing Uldren, and he looked one full in the face before it smashed its bludgeon down towards his head. He dodged as Jol shot it, but it still grazed his side with enough force to knock him to his knees. For an instant as the Stalkers converged on him he knew he was going to die and could only think Damn it, not now with more frustration than fear . Then lightning struck beside him, vaporizing a couple Scorn and sending the rest staggering back; Beatrice landed in front of him with Arc Light leaping from her hands, sparking harmlessly against his skin -- harmless to him, but not the Scorn. The Stalkers were all dead by the time he scrambled to cover and pulled his helmet on.

“They don’t recognize me,” he reported, with a sense that he should have expected this. He wasn’t actually sure if the Scorn could even see -- their helmets usually covered their eyes. Perhaps they had previously identified him solely by the Darkness pulsing under his skin, the same corruption that ran through their own veins.

“That’s a problem,” Jol said, with a note of humorous understatement. “What do we do?”

“Stay alive until Fikrul shows himself,” Uldren replied. Surely Fikrul would know him, even if the rank-and-file Scorn did not. If not -- that would be, in Jol’s terms, a problem. Well, Beatrice had killed Fikrul before, hadn’t she? She might have to do it again.

Fortunately, they didn’t have long to wait. Fikrul had to duck to make it through the door, and for a moment Uldren’s breath froze in his throat as he registered anew just how large and imposing and hideous the Fanatic was. Before, he hadn’t really noticed how repulsive the Scorn were -- their glistening stretched skin, frenzied scuttling limbs, jagged masses of teeth, and the acrid smell of Dark Ether.

Beatrice raised her bow to shoot Fikrul and Uldren hissed, “Don’t!”

This was the moment they’d waited for, his time to shine. He pulled his helmet off and stepped out from behind the crate he’d used for cover, calling, “Fikrul!”

The huge head turned towards him, heavy with that massive, iconic headdress. Fikrul straightened slightly, tilted his head slightly, with a sort of confused hesitance that Uldren had never seen from him before. In an unusually soft voice he rasped, “Father?”

“It’s me,” Uldren confirmed, moving closer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Beatrice slide closer to Fikrul, between him and Uldren, sword in hand. Uldren looked at her; Fikrul followed his gaze.

Uldren could have told him to stand down. He didn’t. Instead he watched Beatrice spasm as Fikrul skewered her like a fish, Arc energy playing through her limbs, an ironic contrast to her earlier elemental mastery. Fikrul shook her body off his spear and watched, lips drawn back, as her ghost rose over it, raising the weapon again, and now Uldren said, “Wait.”

“Uldren, I can’t -- ” the ghost said, its shell closing back around it.

“I know,” Uldren said: he could feel the Darkness roiling off Fikrul himself, knew the Light was too weak here to bring Beatrice back. In one motion he grabbed the ghost out of the air, pulled the collapsible cage he’d scavenged from Spider’s Captain from his belt, and snapped it shut around the little drone.

“You bastard ,” the ghost said.

Uldren ignored it, looking at Fikrul instead. “There’s a sniper there. Bring him to me -- unharmed.”

Fikrul nodded, face twisting in a horrific smile, and gestured with his spear; the Scorn around him obeyed, scurrying off after Jolyon. Uldren looked up towards the sniper’s nest. He couldn’t see a muzzle or scope from here, but he knew he was in Jol’s line of sight; he knew those crosshairs were trained on his head, and he knew Jol wouldn’t miss.

No shot came, not before Fikrul made the same calculation and moved between Uldren and Jol. Uldren turned away.

Fikrul put a heavy hand on Uldren’s back. “We should leave. I have a place, a safe place …”

“Yes,” Uldren said. He glanced back at Beatrice’s body. “Bring that too.”

With a nod, Fikrul led him away.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 42

Valentine seems to have made a full recovery. He's spent the past few days teaching Shaun how to play baseball. Duncan is eager to join, but hasn’t yet developed the hand-eye coordination to catch. Shaun manages to include him by practicing running the bases, and chasing after the occasional ground ball. Of course, then the boys have to compete with Dogmeat, but it seems to be working well.

I never imagined I would one day be describing the antics of my partner, son, and the family dog, playing baseball with the neighbor's boy. I was willing to give a measure of domesticity a try of course, otherwise Shaun would never have been born, but I don't think I expected to succeed. Then again, this is hardly a typical domestic life.

I digress. MacCready has been a bit stir crazy with nothing to do apart from watch his son like a hawk, which proved an excellent incentive to get him involved in Minutemen affairs. When the Abernathy family reported oncoming super mutants, MacCready was more than willing to lend his gun to the fight. There was no time to lose; a small squadron of Minutemen comprised of Brown, Jackson, Michaels, and Mr. MacCready, left immediately for the farm. I was tempted to follow, but it would have undermined the opportunity for the three Minutemen to complete a mission on their own.

According to the Abernathy family, it went well. The family had taken shelter inside the house as soon as they spotted the mutants coming from a long distance, firing from the windows as soon as the mutants were in range. The turrets around the field were a help, but were soon destroyed. Abernathy was wounded in the fire fight, and a super mutant managed to get up to the door. It broke through the old wood and was met by Mrs. Abernathy and a shotgun as their daughter kept firing at the others with her pistol.

Then a rifle fired outside, and a super mutant fell. Another shot, another dead mutant. Laser musket fire joined the fray, a mutant disintegrating into a pile of red ash. The Minutemen attacked the mutants from behind, taking them by surprise and creating a second front. MacCready made his way to the roof and fired from above. Blake Abernathy was impressed. He insisted they stay the night as repayment for a job well done.

“You did well,” I said to the three Minutemen when they reported in at headquarters the next day. “Mr. Abernathy spoke well of your performance, and your willingness to help around the farm even though you were guests.” I smiled, “Good work. I'm sure Lt. Col. Danse and Col. Garvey would be proud. Dismissed.”

The Minutemen flushed with pride at the praise and chatted as they made their way to the barracks. I approached Mr. MacCready, leaning against a wall in the corner. “How much do I owe you?”

He blinked in surprise, and shrugged with a smirk, “Eh, Abernathy fed us and let us bunk up, offered a few caps to ‘the cause.’ Way I understand it, that’s pretty standard fee for Minutemen. He threw in a few extra supplies for me when he found out I wasn’t one.”

“Yet I'm the one who asked you to assist.”

MacCready shook his head, “You and me, we're good. I said I can't ever repay you, and I meant it. You point, I shoot. Any tips I happen to pick up on the way are just a nice bonus. If I ever get strapped for caps, I'll take a job protecting caravans or weird bored pre-war detectives.”

I chuckled, “If you meet any more of those, be sure to let me know. However, I feel it worth mentioning that you simply cannot live by your own wits and skill anymore. You have a son to care for, which means you need a place to put down roots.”

He folded his arms, “Sounds like you got an idea.”

“The Finch family have space to accommodate, and you would function as a regular patrolman between Finch Farm and County Crossing, perhaps even as far south as The Slog.”

He made a face, “Minuteman-backup doesn't sound great, boss.”

A whir of servos and the heavy step of power armor entered. “Not enough money in it for you?”

MacCready scoffed, “Sorry, Danse, couldn’t hear what you said over all that clanking.”

“Welcome back, gentlemen,” I intervened. “MacCready, you already met Danse, but let me introduce Col. Preston Garvey, second in command of the Minutemen. Preston, this is Robert Joseph MacCready. He's a mercenary by trade, but I’m trying to change that. You’ll be hard pressed to find a better shot with a sniper rifle.”

Preston wasn't sure what to make of Danse and MacCready's interaction, but held out a hand to MacCready, “Any friend of the General's is welcome.”

MacCready doubted that, but shook hands, “Thanks.”

“Can I ask how you know him?”

“Met when I was having some trouble with Gunners.”

“It was in the Third Rail in Goodneighbor,” I tried to interject, but it was too late.

“What sort of trouble?” Preston asked, focused and concerned.

MacCready brushed it off, “They were just pissed off about me doing business on ‘their’ turf. That was bull, but I guess they don't take kindly to people quitting.”

The concern on Preston's face hardened to something entirely different. “Quitting. You're a Gunner?”

MacCready rolled his eyes, “You see a tattoo on my face? I was a hired gun, it's what I do. Speaking of Gunners, I heard you took back your castle. Got any plans for Quincy?”

“MacCready,” I warned.

“Just sayin’, be a hell of a statement.”

A small knock on the door interrupted. “Dad?” Shaun called.

“You can come in, son, it's alright.”

He opened the door just enough to look inside. “Oh, good! Duncan wanted to know if Mr. MacCready was back when we saw the other soldiers.”

MacCready sighed, “I keep telling you, kid, drop the 'mister.’”

“Sorry, that's what Dad always calls you.”

“Yeah well, your dad's weird.” He followed Shaun out.

Preston turned to me, “A Gunner?!”

“He isn't a Gunner,” I said. “He didn't know what they were until he was hired and found them to be no better than animals. They harassed him with threats and made it nearly impossible for him to do business independently. Then he met me, we eliminated a Gunner waystation, found the cure for his son's deadly illness, and he left to save him. I'm glad to see he succeeded.”

Preston frowned, “He's still a mercenary.”

“He attempted being a farmer, and was terrible at it. I'm hoping to convince him to be a soldier.”

Preston sighed, still doubtful but resigned, “I guess we can use the help. Finch Farm will appreciate the extra set of eyes, at least.”

I counted that as close to acceptance as I was going to get from Preston under the circumstances and changed the subject, “I'm glad to see the two of you home safe.”

Danse, who had been silently watching Preston the entire time, said, “It's good to be back, sir.”

It was an automatic response that would have been genuine were he not worried for the man next to him. “How was Far Harbor?”

Danse focused on me. “Far Harbor seems to be doing well, as is Acadia. Both places know the Minutemen are willing to help if called upon.”

“Excellent. The troops will be overjoyed to see you both again and have some normalcy restored to their routine.”

“Do I want to know what you've done to them?” Danse grinned.

“I'm sure they'll tell you all about it,” I smiled, “but I did go through the effort of a formal report if you desire to read the full story in detail. Now, I will happily let you gentlemen get back to your duties, while I resume the humble position of a detective.”

“Leaving right away, General?” Preston asked.

“Oh, I'll wait til tomorrow, see if I can get MacCready to agree to a slightly more stable life for his son. Then Valentine, Shaun, and I will head home. Good day, gentlemen.”

The return of Preston and Danse did indeed spark a new energy through the settlement. The soldiers were both relieved and apprehensive in a fond sort of way to return to Danse's expectations. Preston immediately went right to work in the office, reading reports and making note of everything he missed… after he gathered his few possessions and delivered them to Danse's house, that is. No one was surprised by this.

In fact, my greatest surprise of the day came from MacCready, for a reason that had never once occurred to me.

It was later in the evening. Shaun was reading to me from an issue of Astoundingly Awesome Tales before he went to bed. It was utterly ridiculous, but he was enjoying it. There was a frantic knock at the door. Valentine answered and found MacCready outside, who asked if he could speak to me, saw he was interrupting, said, “Damn, sorry, just… I’ll be out here when you’re done.”

“Wonder what that’s about,” Valentine muttered as he closed the door again.

“We’ll find out,” I said, and urged Shaun to finish the story.

Valentine volunteered to take over bedtime preparations once the story was done. I stepped outside to see what had my mercenary friend in such a state.

“What is it, MacCready, has something happened?”

MacCready was agitated, demanding in a hushed voice, “Why am I hearing from the soldiers that this Danse guy is a synth??”

I confess, I blinked in confusion. “Because he is one.”

“And you’re ok with that?!”

I was stern, “Considering the nature of my partner, yes, I am.”

MacCready rolled his eyes, “Valentine doesn’t count, he’s an ex-Institute toaster, I’m talking about an actual synth, the kind that pretend to be other people!”

“The kind like Roger Warwick, who you offered to rid of a potential threat to his true identity? I believe your words were ‘I don’t care if you’re metal or flesh, no one should split apart your family?’” MacCready scowled and started to respond, but I was… aggravated. “Paladin Danse was as loyal a soldier as you will ever find, and though misled into believing their superior race drivel, a good man at heart. He never knew he was a synth, and upon the discovery he was perfectly willing to kill himself to set an example. I managed to talk him out of it, and convince him to make something of his life. Since coming to Sanctuary, Lt. Col. Danse has done nothing but act with dignity and honor, and has made remarkable progress toward accepting those he would once have scorned. I would readily trust him with my life.”

The only description I have for MacCready’s expression was a pout. “I hope you’re right about that.”

“I’m certain I am. And one more thing, Mr. MacCready,” I stepped closer. MacCready stopped his hand from drifting to his weapon. “If you ever call Nick Valentine ‘an ex-Institute toaster’ again, I will not hesitate to end our contract, permanently.”

I went back inside.

“Good talk, huh?” Valentine asked from his seat on the sofa as he lit a cigarette.

“Irritating,” I muttered as I sat next to him. He handed me the cigarette and lit another for himself.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I failed to account for the possibility that not all of my close acquaintances share my opinion on synths.”

Valentine made an amused sound. “Hell, Holmes, most of ‘em probably don’t. So was MacCready’s problem with me, Danse, or Curie? Or just the Minutemen policy of not shooting synths in general?”

“Danse specifically, though I imagine he isn’t fond of the general policy either.”

“Hm. Must think Preston’s insane, then.”

I scoffed, “I sincerely doubt he even noticed they’re living together now.”

“Everyone else did.”

“Everyone else has known they’re lovers for months.” I put out my cigarette and stood, “I’m going to attempt to get some rest before the trip back tomorrow.”

“Good,” Valentine smiled. “Proud of you for suggesting it on your own this time, instead of waiting for me to drag you.”

I smiled fondly and kissed him briefly. “Goodnight, Nick.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

MacCready found me in the morning as we were preparing to leave. “Hey, boss,” he hurried up to me, sheepish. “So, uh. I guess you were mad enough to get Valentine worried, so he found me last night and laid out what happened with Danse. How the Brotherhood want him dead, standing up to Maxson in the face, all that.” I was surprised to hear it, but it didn’t surprise me at all that Valentine had done such a thing. MacCready continued, “The way you stuck your neck out for Danse... well, it says a lot about you. And I know you’re not the kind of guy who just believes anything he’s told. Always gotta know everything about everyone, don’t you? Hell, that’s how we met. So… I don’t like it, but I’ll deal with it.”

I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “Are you saying you overreacted?”

His discomfort vanished, “Hell no, I think I reacted just fine. Just saying I should mind my own business. Danse is a synth, fine. The hell do I care?” He glanced away before adding, “And, uh… I won’t insult your family again. I don’t understand how it even works, but family’s family. So.” He met my gaze then, sincere. “Sorry.”

I nodded. “Apology accepted. I suppose you’ll be heading east?”

He was relieved by the change of subject, “Yeah, figured Duncan and I would go with you to Diamond City, then catch a caravan up from there to Finch Farm. Way I hear it, these Forged lunatics are just raiders with a fire obsession. Flamethrowers won’t do them any good if they’re dead before they get close enough to use it.”

“And your payment?”

He shrugged, “Roof over our heads, plenty of food, maybe Duncan will learn something about farming…” He sighed, “What the hell am I doing?”

I put a hand on his shoulder with a smile, “Give it a try, MacCready. If it simply can’t work, then you can try something else.”

He nodded, still uncertain, but less than before. “Yeah. Ok. Well, Duncan and I are ready whenever you are.”

And so we said our goodbyes and made our way home to Diamond City.

[katsbooks]

Schwarze Nacht - Chapter Six

Walter C. Dornez x Reader

‘All orders by Master Integra Hellsing will be followed to the letter. Any complaints will be given in written form to the Head Maid, who will in turn give them to Master Hellsing. You will have Sundays and Wednesdays off to do as you please, within reason and without violation of Organization policy. Otherwise, you will be in the uniform given to you at all times outside of your room. Your shift will begin at 5:30 am and will end only when the Head Maid, Butler (Sir Walter C. Dornez) or Master Hellsing deems it over.

      If there are any questions or concerns that are not addressed in your pamphlet, please consult the Head Maid or Butler.’

           Walter began (Y/n)’s weapons training the day after the probation period ended.

           Where she was pretty efficient with a handgun and a normal rifle, Walter wanted her to try out a sniper rifle. He had her outside on the rolling grounds of the manor, with a target over 500 meters away. She laid on her belly, the rifle cradled in her hands as she looked down the target sight. Her shoulders and arms were cramping a little from holding the heavy gun for so long and her grip was starting to grow shaky.

           Walter was knelt down beside her, instructing her on how to steady the gun. He reached down and held the hand holding the underside of the barrel with his own, offering a little more stability. (Y/n) aimed carefully, for the heart of the target and held her breath for a second, before firing, releasing her breath.

           “Five centimeters to the left, but you’re starting to get the hang of it,” Walter said with an approving smile. (Y/n) groaned and flipped the safety on, setting the gun down so that she could sit up, rolling her stiff shoulders. “You’ll grow used to the weight and position. It’s always difficult to deal with at first.”

           “I hope so, otherwise I’ll end up looking like a board….” She commented, rubbing her neck and arms to loosen the tense muscles.

           “Hm….are there any other weapons you’re interested in learning how to use?” Walter asked. (Y/n) thought for a minute.

           “…knives.”

           “Knives?”

           “Yeah. They’re easier to conceal, lighter and just seem a little more practical in my personal opinion,” (Y/n) shrugged. Walter hummed as he disassembled the sniper rifle, placing it back into its case.

           “….well, I don’t know much about handling knives, but Master Hellsing and Alucard are quite familiar with blades. I could talk with them about possibly teaching you,” he suggested. “Until then, though, I would like for us to focus on your gun handling.”

           (Y/n) grimaced a little. “Lovely.”

           By the time Sunday rolled around, she ached in places she didn’t know she could ache. Walter had her practicing with that sniper rifle every day, assembling and disassembling it, cleaning it and shooting it. She rubbed the back of her neck, sitting in the galley with her morning coffee.

           “Good morning, Miss (Y/n).”

           She looked up wearily, “Morning, Walter.”

           “Are we tired, my dear?” he inquired, sitting down across from her with his morning tea and a small stack of toast.

           “Mostly body sore, which in turn makes one tired,” she said.

           “You’ll have to grow used to that feeling, working with that rifle,” he stated.

           “I know. I’m just being a whiner,” she smiled a little. Walter chuckled as he stirred in his usual spoonful of sugar for his tea. “Doesn’t training me take away from your own duties, Walter?”

           “Not really. It is part of my job to see that you’re properly trained,” he said. (Y/n) hummed and swallowed a mouthful of her coffee. “So what is the plan today, (Y/n)?”

           “I’m planning on walking to town today,” she said. “I’ve got a letter coming in and a book I’ve been waiting to come out is finally in the stores.”

           “Ah, would that be a sequel to that mystery novel I loaned you?”

           (Y/n) grinned, “You caught me.”

           “I suspected as much when you kept it a little longer than usual,” Walter smiled.

           “Yeah, I really liked it. I might pick up the first while I’m there, too, so I don’t have to keep stealing yours,” she chuckled.

           “Well, why don’t I accompany you today? I’d rather like to get my hands on it as well.”

           “It would be nice to have some company,” (Y/n) admitted. “I was planning on leaving after I finished breakfast.”

           “Very good, then.”

           (Y/n) smiled and turned her attention to finishing up her bowl of sliced peaches. Thinking on it, it really hadn’t felt like she had been there over three months. It felt both shorter and longer than that.

           “Something bothering you?”

           “Hm? Oh, no. Just thinking about how long I’ve been here. It doesn’t feel it,” she said.

           “Is that a good thing?”

           “I suppose so. I feel comfortable enough here to not really let something like time bother me, but then I think on how long or short it’s been since I arrived here and I’m surprised because it doesn’t feel like that much time had passed at all,” she said.

           “When you stay busy and you work with people you enjoy being around, you tend not to notice time passing by,” Walter stated. “Now then, are we finished?”

           (Y/n) looked down at her empty bowl, where her fingers had absently been feeling around in. “…I guess so. I hadn’t even noticed I had finished my breakfast. Darn.”

           Walter chuckled and stood, putting away his and (Y/n)’s dishes as she wiped down the table real quick, before they walked out of the manor together, once he let Integra know where he was going.

           It was a pleasant day, the sky was bright blue and there was a comfortable breeze blowing, the temperature just cool enough to ask for a light coat.

           “It’s growing close to winter,” Walter noted, having donned a light jacket before leaving.

           “Yes, my favorite time of year. I love the cold,” (Y/n) smiled brightly. “I love the snow and the warm blankets and hot chocolate, all of it.”

           “Even the blizzards and ice storms?”

           “Alright, not real big on them, but the results can be pretty.”

           Walter chuckled, “I’m rather one for fall or spring. Nice in between seasons.”

           “Mm, yeah. The colors around that time of year are lovely,” (Y/n) agreed. “Weather’s not too bad, either.”

           “Not at all.”

           They stopped at the post office for (Y/n) to grab her letters, which she opened as they walked to the bookstore.

           “’ Miss (Y/n),

                       As pleased as we are to hear that you have a full-time, successfully paying job, I’m afraid we must decline your offer of returning home, even for visit. Your parents have both decided that it is within everyone’s best interest for you to stay—‘ Oh this is just rubbish,” she scowled, folding it up. Walter looked at her curiously.

           “May I ask why you would have to send an inquiry to return home?”

           (Y/n) sighed, tossing the letter in the trash she passed by to open her second envelope.

           “I mentioned that I moved here from America, on my parents’ pushing. Well…I got into a little bit of a scrap back home, when my parents won the lottery and joined the rich folk. I didn’t approve of the change in behavior just because we had money and they didn’t like that too much. So…hence why I’m here, working for Master Hellsing, instead of living at home with my parents. I guess they got a secretary now to deal with the letters. Ugh,” she shook her head, tugging out the second letter. “Dear (Y/n), really happy to hear that you’re working full time now! So glad to hear that Head Maid got what was coming to her. Sorry this is so short, but expect a present within the next couple weeks! Lots of love, Sammy.’ Hm…what is that girl planning? Her letters are never this short.”

           “Your friend, I take it?” Walter smiled.

           “Yeah, Sammy. She’s something else, I’ll tell you that,” (Y/n) smiled fondly as she pocketed the letter, before glancing over the last three envelopes. “Marriage offer, marriage offer…ooh, what’s this? Oh. Oxford’s rejection letter.” She tossed them into the next trash can they passed.

           “Marriage offers? Because of your parents, I take it?”

           “Because of their money, is more like it. What these poor sods don’t realize is that I don’t see a penny of that money,” (Y/n) shrugged. “If I’m going to marry someone, it’ll be because I love them and they love me. Not because of money or looks or age or whatever…”

           “That’s a very wise thing to do,” Walter hummed.

           “I don’t know about wise. More like just…common sense. Why marry for money or looks if you’re going to be unhappy for the rest of your life, right?”

           “Very true,” he agreed, stepping forward to open the door to the bookstore for her. She flashed him a smile, stepping inside with him behind her. She loved the smell of a bookstore, breathing in the scent of paper and ink.

           “What a wonderful smell,” she sighed happily.

           “Indeed, it is such a comforting scent,” Walter agreed. (Y/n) smiled, and walked to the new books table, finding what she was looking for.

           “Oh yay, it’s a sales week too!” (Y/n) nearly squealed, hugging the book to her chest. Walter chuckled softly, picking up a copy for himself.

           “It’s a pleasure to see you so excited over something so small, Miss (Y/n),” he smiled warmly. (Y/n) felt warmth slide up her cheeks and she gave a sheepish smile.

           “I’m sorry, I just…I really like reading. I’d like to be a writer someday,” she admitted.

           “Really? I’d be most interested in seeing what you would write,” he said. (Y/n) chuckled softly.

           “Maybe someday,” she smiled, heading towards the checkout line. Walter smiled as he watched her for a minute, before following after her with a slight pep in his walk.

[naddy-and-stuff]

Day 7: AU

An apprentice, for all intents and purposes, was to broaden the playing field and eventually pass on teachings. The Reaper took twenty eight apprentices, ranging from an AI to social rejects like the remaining twenty seven. Their goal was to kill him who had been dubbed as the greatest assassin to have ever lived. One would think that twenty eight apprentices would catch the eye of other professionals in the field, exposing the Reaper's identity and his activities. But all it did was turn the apprentices into targets. Hayami placed her revolver in its holster, sighing as she did. She surveyed the area; the others have evacuated as planned. Exfill was on the way with their primary target dealt with. A bullet whizzed through the air and pierced the flesh of her upper arm. The force made her lurch forward and kneel on one knee. Studying her arm, Hayami saw that the bullet was not any kind of special round and had probably been fired from a ten millimeter. There was rubble off to her right and she dashed to it just as another bullet flew at the space she was at earlier. Apparently, they had not cleaned up all the lackeys. Her left arm was immobile, but she could still shoot with her right. She was about to move when the crack of a familiar sniper rifle reached her ears, followed by the telltale sound of a high speed bullet going through bones and flesh and the thudding of a heavy body onto the ground. "Are you alright, Hayami?" Chiba's voice came off as warbled through her earpiece, but it comforted her either way. "Yes. Nice shot." "I'm heading there now. The others have been picked up." She only hummed in response, ignoring the sweat that beaded her brow from the pain of the bullet wound. Being the Reaper's apprentice meant grueling training, but not once had she been shot before. He usually held back when sparring against them or teaching them how to effectively blow a target's brains out. Complaints were few and far between especially since they became a whole lot more under the assassin's tutelage. She saw a shadow from the corner of her eye and with a deft hand, Hayami drew out her revolver and aimed it at the figure. A similar gun was trained at her and holding it was Chiba, her fellow marksman. "I see you're still alert," he remarked, stowing his revolver away and gently placing his sniper rifle case down. She only nodded at him and followed his example. "Is it bad?" Hayami asked, referring to her gunshot wound. "Nothing Takebayashi-kun can't fix," he replied. "Do you want me to take it out?" "A painkiller will work." He fished a tablet from his pocket, the latest creation of their resident chemist, Okuda Manami. It was fast-acting but had the side-effect of drowsiness. It supposedly helped with healing too by all but forcing its consumer to rest. Chiba handed it to Hayami who swallowed it dry, wincing as she did. "How long till exfill?" She asked hoarsely, the painkiller pill stuck in her throat uncomfortably. It dissovled at a snail's pace and the gunshot wound still throbbed, but she was fine with those. Chiba sat down beside her and leaned against the wall of rubble, relaxed but alert. They were still in enemy territory and there could be more stragglers like the one who shot Hayami. "About ten minutes. Sensei's personally coming to survey the area." "Sensei is?" "Yeah. Apparently he had some history with the target." She rested her head on his shoulder. It was dark outside, with nothing but the moon above illuminating the ruins of what used to be their target's hideout. The wind was frigid and their breaths started to come out in white puffs. It was only still autumn, but the chill rivaled that of winter. "So you think it has something to do with Yukimura Aguri?" Chiba briefly glanced at her. When the Reaper took all twenty eight of them in, he was candid about why he chose to stay as an assassin; the reason was a woman, Yukimura Aguri. He had been hired to kill her by a scientist whose patent she stole; surveillance was done through a florist persona the Reaper effortlessly melded into. It did not take long for him to learn that he had been hired under false pretenses and that the only reason the scientist wanted her killed was because she rejected his romantic advances. "In the world where you breathed blood mist, a target dies. That's all there is to it," Chiba quoted the Reaper. He had exerted any and all effort to keep her safe, because if his employer found out that she was still alive then more assassins would be sent to end her life, each less merciless than the last. When the Reaper returned from a job, he found out that Yukimura Aguri had been murdered in her own house. He had only been gone for twenty four hours. "Sensei never comes to kill sites," Hayami mentioned, finding it easier to talk now that the pill was dissolved. "So it must be personal." He hummed in agreement, feeling her breaths slow and become more relaxed. From their sitting position, he could only see the top of her head. Chiba could not claim that he had any form of empathy, not with the way he had been discarded like the rest of them, but as he watched Okuda's painkiller take effect on Hayami, he felt that, even if it's just a little, he understood why the Reaper stayed where he was now. Solitude was practical in their profession; having any ties with anyone would have jeopardized your emotions and feelings. The Reaper saw differently. "It's people you cherish that make you strong." He brushed aside a stray lock of hair from Hayami's forehead and listened to both her breaths and the smallest noise. Exfill would arrive in seven minutes. (I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D)

[ladye11e]

Deception pt 11

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Wahoo! Time for Jacob! 😋

Forever tagging @geekgoddess813 @sweet-flash @ermergerd517 @i-wontgivein 💕 If anyone else would like tagging, just ask 😀

 Link to the full fic so far is Here

"Connor! Thank god you're here!"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise when you grabbed him and dragged him into the shop, kicking the door shut with a bang before hugging him tightly. You had been here one, ONE day, and already your nerves were starting to fray. It was bad enough that you had been tasked with setting up the surveillance equipment in your room and trying to get it to link up with the other site closer to the warehouse, but you had also had to deal with a very ill-tempered Jacob. Evie was on the verge of killing him after he had started a fight in the pub last night, bragging how he was going to 'kick some Templar ass very soon', so he had been put on house arrest as it were, forbidden to leave the Curio shop unless he behaved. Needless to say he hadn't taken it very well, stomping about and pouting at every opportunity.

"I hoped to be here sooner (name) but my flight got delayed. How have you fared so far?"

"Not terribly well..."

You were cut off by Jacob bounding down the stairs when he had heard someone come in, strolling up to Connor and punching him in the arm then comically pretending that he had broken his hand after his fist connected.

"Hey the big man's here! Now this party can really get started!"

Connor shot you a sympathetic look when your eyes pretty much rolled into the back of your head as Jacob jumped up on the counter and began annoyingly fiddling with his gauntlet, realising quickly why you looked so riled up. Thankfully you had an idea that would keep him busy for about half an hour, plenty of time for you and Connor to catch up and start making preparations.

"Oh Jaaaacob?" You purred, flashing him your sweetest smile when he looked up and instantly knew you were after something. "Would you mind popping to the coffee shop for us? I won't tell Evie you left."

"What, I'm your errand boy now?" He scoffed irritably and continued flicking out his blade.

"Not at all, you know you're the only one I trust to get my drink. You know exactly how I like it."

His eyes widened when you leant in to whisper that last part to him, hoping to appeal to his ego to get what you wanted. It had obviously worked as when you moved back a salacious grin crept up his face and he jumped off the counter, grabbing his hat and running his hand through his hair before putting it on.

"Fine. You better not let my darling sister find out, I can't be dealing with anymore of her nagging."

You mimicked zipping your mouth shut when he eagerly left, letting out a heavy sigh as you turned back to Connor who was chuckling softly.

"That was very clever of you (name). Shall we get started while we have no distractions?"

With Connors help you had managed to get all the cameras working and get it streaming to the safe house where Henry was also monitoring everything; as you had already agreed to take it in shifts, and you were now looking at street maps to plot a route to take the money plus the guns to a safe location. You were so engrossed in what you were doing that you hadn't even noticed the time, until a large takeaway cup was placed on the desk in front of you.

"One 'just how you like it' as requested, and one... I have no idea what this is? Compost maybe?"

You bit your lips together when Jacob passed Connor his drink, his grimaced face quite the picture indeed.

"Why does everybody feel the need to criticise my beverage choices?"

"Sweetie, it looks like mud. You're kinda asking for it." You giggled when Jacob imitated throwing up as Connor started drinking it with a shrug of his shoulders.

Turning back to the map and trailing your finger over the partially marked route outlined on it, you suddenly stopped and frowned when you couldn't find the expected intersection about a mile away from the warehouse.

"Jacob, is this an old map? Where's the bank?"

Raising your eyebrows when he poked his head between you and Connor; staring at the map blankly, you rolled it up and swatted him round the head with it when you realised that he was no longer in a foul mood, his usual mischievous attitude coming back full force as he feigned mock horror when he saw where you had pointed to.

"There may have been some kind of explosion last year. So they demolished what was left and turned it into a one way system?"

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose as you slumped back in your chair, the entire second half of your planning now being rendered completely useless as there is no way you could use that route anymore, as it would take twice as long as you had initially predicted.

"Can I ask what caused the explosion? Or is that a stupid question?" Connor mumbled quite irritably as he eyed Jacob up when he stood there scratching his chin.

"It wasn't my fault! They were the ones who brought a stupid amount of C4 to rob the place, how was I to know?"

"Great. Just great. Well, back to square one then." You growled as you unrolled the map and prepared yourself for another tedious afternoon.

It took several hours to plan an alternate route for the mission, now that it had been completed Connor had gone to join Henry and Evie at the other site to share the rest of the intelligence he had gathered, leaving you bored to tears staring at the unchanging picture on the screen with your chin in your hands. You began flicking through the cameras absent-mindedly when you saw some kind of movement, but let out a huff and went back to the main picture when you saw it was another infernal pigeon.

"Oh someone's having fun then!"

Spinning around in your chair when you heard the usual heavy footsteps, you cocked your head when you saw that Jacob was more dishevelled than usual and slightly red-faced, wearing very unexpectedly, shorts and a hoodie.

"What have you been doing?"

"Eh? Told you I had a job now, I do boxing lessons at Toppings Gym."

"You? Teach?! Of all the things I expected, that would have been the very bottom of the list." You mumbled as you playfully wafted your hand in front of your face when he sat down next to you.

"Ha ha very funny. I remember you used to love it when I got all hot and sweaty. You should come down, I could show you a thing or two."

"I can fight perfectly well thank you very much." You pouted, narrowing your eyes at his attempted mockery.

"Those fancy pants backflips? If you say so. Althoooough, it is a lot of fun watching you."

Turning back to the monitor quickly when he gave you a cheeky wink so he wouldn't see the smile threatening to creep up your face, you scowled when you were faced with another bird literally eyeballing you through the camera.

"Go. Away! Shoo!"

Jacob roared into laughter when you poked the screen with a hiss, almost falling off his chair in hysterics when you got up and grabbed Evie's sniper rifle that was on top of its case at the foot of your bed.

"Don't you think that's kind of excessive? You'll never make that shot." Jacob chuckled when he managed to calm down slightly, only to start up again when he saw you were actually going to go through with it as you slid a bullet into the chamber.

You threw him a maniacal grin as you pushed open the window and looked through the scope, turning the dial on the side and gauging the distance between you and the feathered rat.

"It's just over a mile away, easy shot. Besides, I'm not going to kill it, just scare it off."

"First round at the pub says you don't make it."

Slowing your breathing and balancing the barrel on the sill, your eyes flickered to the trees outside so you could adjust your aim for the slight breeze, the corner of your lips tugging up when you knew for certain you had your mark.

"Deal. Second brick down from the camera, you get to check."

Before he had a chance to reply, you firmly squeezed the trigger and a deafening bang rumbled through the air, everything outside going silent apart from the flock of birds swooping into the air in fear.

"Off you go then."

"Why me?" He grumbled as he got up and joined you at the window, squinting at the late afternoon sunshine.

"Well firstly I wouldn't want you accusing me of cheating now would I. Secondly, it's about to be rush hour traffic. You'll be much faster with your rope launcher."

Jacob sighed at your logic, knowing that it was pointless arguing when you had come up with half decent reasoning. Laying the gun down on your bed when he pouted and made his way downstairs and out into the street, you returned to the window and pushed it open a little further with a wide grin as you watched him shoot out his zip line, climbing up the building over the road with ease.

"Mmmm, why does beer always taste better when someone else buys it?" You giggled, smacking your lips after taking a sip when Jacob scowled at you.

"Yeah yeah, rub it in. You know that was pure luck."

You rolled your eyes with a smile as you relaxed back in your seat, stretching out before cocking your head when Jacob started tapping his fingers on the table. Noticing he was staring at a pamphlet that had been left on the edge, you snapped it up quickly and glanced over it, letting out a heavy sigh as you dropped it back down.

"If you start another fight tonight, I'm leaving you high and dry."

"What? Dunno what you're talking about."

Poking him in the arm when he tried to hold back a grin as he picked up the paper eagerly and unfolded it, you dug out your phone and messaged Connor, telling a teeny white lie and saying that you were out with Jacob doing 'recon' tonight.

"I've covered us for a bit. If you win, we split the prize money."

"My my, since when did you become so devious? And what do you mean, if? There's no way I can lose."

Leaning over slightly so you could fully read the rules and not just get snippets of it, a wide grin spread over your face when you knew he was right. Six rounds of Texas hold em poker starting at 8pm tonight, a hundred pounds buy in, the winner walks away with every penny. It was easy money really, Jacobs eagle vision allowing him to see all of his opponents cards making any other outcome inconceivable. Before, you would have gone mad at him for even thinking about doing something like this, cheating and having an unfair advantage. But recently you had rethought a few things, and maybe you should let your hair down once in a while. Plus almost all of your assets were back in Boston, so a little something to tide you over whist you were here would help no end. Digging your purse out of your bag when Jacob sulked as he realised he didn't have enough money on him to be able to enter the game, you slapped the rest in his hand and began giggling when he jumped up enthusiastically towards the bar, finally starting to relax and feel a bit more at ease being here.

You faked nervousness as you glanced around the back room where the game had been set up, everyone else in here holding their breaths as the last hand was dealt. As expected Jacob was winning massively, the only opponent left having just a few chips in his hand. The other players that had been kicked out of the tournament had started grumbling something about him cheating somehow, but after a fifteen minute break and some lengthy searching of him, they had to be satisfied that he wasn't. You sighed when Jacob folded yet again, grimacing when you checked your watch and saw that it was nearly midnight. If he didn't finish this game up soon, you were going to have to make up an excuse for why you were late back to take over the surveillance, not something you wanted to have to explain to Evie.

Jacob turned his head to the side when he heard you clear your throat, shrugging his shoulders as if to say I know when he saw you tapping your wrist. The cards were dealt again, but this time, you noticed a slight crease in the corner of his eye. Extremely subtle as to not let on a tell, but just enough to let you know he had gotten a decent hand at last. The only problem this time was, his opponent (a rather gangly and sickly looking man) never even looked at his cards, just kept both palms on top of each other and firmly placed over them. Now Jacobs eagle vision was good, but not good enough to see through two limbs and the backs of the cards. You gulped when the man threw his few remaining chips into the middle of the table, knowing full well what was coming next. As you guessed, Jacob being the cocky ass that he is also went all in, making this the final play.

The dealer purposefully turned over the first three cards painfully slowly; revealing the king and queen of clubs, then the ace of diamonds. Neither of the men moved an inch when the fourth was placed on the table, whispers and murmurs erupting when the ace of hearts was pulled next. Even you bit your lip in anticipation as you watched the dealer's hand move across the table in something resembling movie style slow motion, your eyes flickering to Jacobs face for any sign of whether he had won or not when the last card was the ace of clubs. But he showed nothing. Not even a glimmer. Never before had you been so nervous about a game like this, but as it was your money on the line too, you thought that he would have at least been a bit more careful with it.

Your heart was beating furiously and you were more than slightly annoyed when his rival finally showed his hand with a sly grin, a two of diamonds and.. the ace of spades. Fuck! Sighing and resigning to the fact that you had lost; only a miracle able to beat a four of a kind, you suddenly jumped when Jacob slapped his hand on the table, stopping him from collecting the pot.

Everyone inched in closer when Jacob flicked over his first card and tossed it on the table - all but you as you caught his gaze and held it, your mouth curling into the same cocky grin as his when he gave you a slow wink and picked up his last card. You didn't even look at it when he placed it down next to the other one, for some reason you found yourself unable to pull away from his dancing eyes and jubilant expression. It was the sound of the man getting up and bursting out the door that finally dragged your attention away, making you chuckle when Jacob also got up and did several exaggerated bows to the rest of the room and boasting about his royal flush. Just as he was about to collect his winnings from the dealer, you froze to the spot when someone you knew caught your eye, stomping heavily and purposefully in your direction.

Stood at over six foot tall and the size of a house, John the Tosser was a well-known gang leader around here, working for none other than the Templars. Your eyes narrowed when you spotted the man who had lost peeking from behind him, with an evil smirk plastered on his face.

"You morons! You let Assassins into the tournament??" John bellowed out as soon as he spotted you and Jacob, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

"Oh."

"Shit."

[facethroughthemirror]

In The End, We Come Right Back

Chapter Two

They’d seen Maine get back up after taking massive amounts of damage. And every time, he would get up and keep swinging, rush his opponents like an angry bull, shrug off the pain like it was nothing. This was Maine. Hulking, indestructible Maine. Maine with god-tier endurance and an adamantine skull. Maine with the strength of, according to Agent Pennsylvania, about twenty-three bears, give or take a bear or two. Maine, who was both the unstoppable force and the immovable object.

But Maine didn’t get up.

Cross-posted on ao3

"... the Mother of Invention has all kinds of information in the library, right? Not just military and history?"

The older blond glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, setting his coffee down. "... I think so. Why?"

Washington looked down into his cup. He'd already drained it once, and he was almost done with this one again. "... I want to try to learn some sign language. I know a little bit already, I tried to learn when I was a kid, but I want to try to learn a little more. Teach some to Maine while he's recovering. I can teach him to spell, and count to like ten, but after that, not a lot I can do. I think Florida was talking about knowing sign language awhile ago, maybe he can help out a little."

"I think that's a great idea, Wash," North nodded. "And I think Maine will too."

"... I know it won't be any replacement for Maine's voice, but..."

"I think he'll appreciate being able to communicate with someone. It might help him, even though he doesn't say much to start with."

"... maybe not to you guys," Wash mumbled, swirling his hot chocolate. "You just have to know how to understand him. He said... he says plenty to me."

"Well, yeah, you guys are bunkmates. You see more of him than anyone else. You probably have deep conversations about life or punching Wyoming at three in the morning. I mean, South and I do, anyway." North sipped his coffee. He tilted his head to look around Wash, and raised his cup in greeting. "Hey Carolina."

The teal-armored Freelancer made a noise in response to North's greeting as she walked around the table to sit next to him. She unhooked her helmet and removed it, setting it down on the table like the others. She looked tired, the youngest agent noticed. Clearly, the older blond noticed as well, as he immediately got up and wandered away, only to return with two more cups.

"So boss, anything to report?" North asked, handing a coffee to Carolina and another hot chocolate to Wash. "The Director debrief you yet?"

"Yes. He's talked to me, you, York, and CT." Carolina took an inhumanly-long drink from her cup before putting it down and folding her hands. "... Wyoming's awake. He'll be in Recovery for a few days getting the blood pumped back into him, but he'll be fine. York's got some pretty bad whiplash that they're checking out now. CT has a few cuts and bruises, but she'll be okay."

"What about Maine?" Wash asked instantly, thoughts beginning to turn back toward panic when he realized that Carolina hadn't mentioned him. And that there was probably a reason for it.

Carolina looked at him, and he withered a little under the burning of those green eyes, turning his own gaze down and away as he put his cup down and twisted his hands together in his lap. However, after a moment, the squad leader did answer his question.

"... Maine was shot ten times, nine at point-blank range, and kept fighting. He lost a lot of blood. Not to mention, he was tossed off a truck at high speed, bounced across several lanes of traffic, before getting hit by a bus and knocked off an overpass. No one could survive that."

Wash's mouth had gone dry as Carolina re-described Maine's injuries. He knew. He was aware. He took a shaky sip of his hot chocolate, partially to hide his fear and partially in an attempt to keep his tongue from shiveling up. He couldn't blame her for explaining, though, she probably didn't exactly know that North knew. However, at the last thing she said, he swore he felt his heart stop. Had Maine...? No, surely he would've been notified, he was Maine's partner after all...

"Those injuries would have killed anyone else," Carolina continued. She took another drink of her coffee, finally looking at Wash. "... so I guess we're lucky it happened to Maine."

Wash felt his blood boil, anger rising up from where it had retreated into his gut. Carolina went on to explain that Maine was still in surgery, but the current report was that he would recover. She informed them most of the wounded would probably be back on the M.O.I. tonight, including Maine, if nothing went catastrophically wrong in surgery. But all Wash could hear was Carolina's tone sounding far too chipped and businesslike. Didn't she care that one of her squad members had almost died?

After she finished speaking, there was a heavy pause. North made some comment or other, and when Carolina gave a laugh in response, Wash's temper ran out once again. It took him a moment, but he finally spoke into his cup, his voice small and forced. "... 'we're' lucky?"

"Huh?"

"We're lucky?!" he shouted, slamming his cup down. "No one is lucky here, Carolina! We're not lucky, the project isn't lucky, the only person who's maybe lucky here is Maine, and I think that's really for him to decide!"

Carolina and North were silent, Carolina actually looking a little shocked while North merely set down his coffee cup. He likely wouldn't hesitate to keep Wash from attacking Carolina out of anger, by any means necessary, now that he knew that it was possible. He may have agreed not to mention the incident to any of their superiors, but if Wash assaulted Carolina, one of those superiors, technically, that promise would probably have to go right out the window. However, his caution proved unnecessary when Wash merely crumpled inward on himself, folding his arms on the tabletop and putting his head down on them.

A long, quiet moment passed, before Carolina spoke again. "... I know how you must feel. It's... scary, when your partner gets hurt like that."

"Don't patronize me, Carolina. It's fucking terrifying," Wash shot back bluntly, voice muffled by the table when he didn't bother to raise his head. "Don't pretend you just saw Maine laying there and you weren't scared shitless. Because if fucking Maine dying on the pavement doesn't scare you, you're not fucking human."

North reached across the table, placing a hand cautiously on Wash's elbow. "Of course it scared us."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"... he's right."

Wash's head snapped up, startling North enough that he pulled his hand away. He had never heard Carolina sound that way. So... upset. Even teary. Green eyes turned down and away from the men around her, as if she just... couldn't look at them. Her gaze was fixed on her hands, folded in her lap.

"... Maine took a bullet for me. The shot to his chest, that was a sniper that got past me. It was enough to knock Maine down for about forty seconds. We think it was heading right for my spine, and if it had hit me, I could have been paralyzed. After I called him a baby and pushed him out a window."

"Maine would never complain about taking a bullet for someone," North reminded her. "He does it all the time. And he knows any of us would do the same for him."

"I could have knocked Maine off course when we were thrown off of the truck, maybe helped him stay out of traffic. At least maybe he wouldn't have gone off the overpass."

"You can't possibly have controlled that."

Carolina finally turned her eyes up, then turned her head almost robotically to lock them onto North's. Wash noticed that they no longer seemed to burn in their sockets: on the contrary, they seemed blank. Detached. When she spoke again, there was no emotion in her voice. As if she had simply shut her heart off. "I let that soldier throw her gun to the man who shot Maine's throat out."

Anger began to leech into Wash's blood again, coursing through his veins and oozing into every fiber of his being. Someone with Carolina's skill should have easily been able to prevent what had happened, and what made it worse was that she prided herself on her apparent-flawlessness. On being he very model of a warrior. Being perfection incarnate.

However, Carolina's voice halted the building anger before it could erupt again. "... Maine nearly died because of me. A sniper shot him in the chest instead of shooting me in the back. And I couldn't stop him getting shot in the throat."

"Carolina, don't say that," North started.

"Why not. It's true. Maine will probably never be the same after this."

"You didn't shoot Maine. You never laid a hand on the gun that did this to Maine."

"It doesn't matter if I pulled the trigger or not!" Carolina's voice broke alongside her composure, tears beginning to leak from her eyes and slide down her face to vanish from sight beneath her chin. "... I was the team leader. It was my responsibility to ensure the safety of my squad, and I failed. Arguably, I failed all of them."

"Failure is certainly an appropriate word, Agent Carolina," a new voice drawled from just out of their lines of sight.

The sound of it was enough to send all three Freelancers scrambling to their feet. They stood at attention, Carolina's cheeks still wet with tears, as the Director came more clearly into view. He had changed gout of the borrowed station scrubs, and had replaced his sunglasses on his face.

"The objective was, however, completed. No lives were lost, although two of your comrades were severely injured. Your failure, Agent Carolina, lies in your inability to remain objective about battlefield casualties. Are you going to blame yourself for Agent Wyoming's injuries as well?"

"Sir, she had more direct contact with Maine," Wash began, as respectfully as he could manage, though he was starting to get angry again. "It makes sense that she would feel responsible for--"

"I did not ask for your opinion, Agent Washington," the Director barked. "Agent Carolina, this is behavior does not suit a soldier of your ranking. You will collect yourself and report to the docking bay to board a dropship back to the Mother of Invention. Agents North Dakota and Washington, the same goes for you two. Agent York will meet you there, and Agent Florida will be the one flying you back. We need our better pilot on-hand at the moment."

Wash clenched his fists, but didn't dare to argue. He didn't want to think about the consequences just now. But, Carolina's voice surprised him yet again. "... sir, I believe it to be in the best interest of all involved that Agent Washington be allowed to remain with his partner, to keep him calm."

"And why would I allow that, Carolina?"

"... Agent Maine will undoubtedly require a few more blood transfusions after his surgery, and probably intravenous painkillers."

"Your point?"

"Agent Washington can explain."

When both the Director and Carolina looked at the gray-armored young man, he felt his blood freeze. He made a noise in the back of his throat, but then squared his shoulders a little more and cleared it to disguise the fact that he'd almost used his partner's real name. "... Maine doesn't react well to needles, sir. And IVs are kind of the worst. The Counselor can tell you why he doesn't like them."

"This is a civilian outfit, sir," Carolina picked up. "The staff would not be equipped to handle Maine if he acted out. And only Agent Washington has shown consistent ability to calm Maine down if he becomes agitated or enraged."

The Director stared silently at Carolina for a long, long minute. His jaw set, and Wash swore he could hear the man's bones crack. He straightened up, sweeping a look down the short line of soldiers in front of him and lingering briefly on North, as if silently daring him to add to the conversation. When North said nothing, the Director continued to speak.

"... arguing with a superior does not suit a soldier of your caliber, Agent Carolina. And it does not suit a soldier in general, Agent Washington, but you know all about that." He adjusted his sunglasses. "The wounded are being prepared for transfer as we speak. Agent Maine will be kept sedated in order to be relocated back to the Mother of Invention. Despite the issues we've just had here, Agent Washington will be waiting in Recovery One for his arrival. Now, all three of you, get back in uniform and report to the docking bay this instant. That is an order."

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Resource Management, pt12

Word Count: 2675 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

“So, Sunshine, what makes you so goddamn special that three quarters of your personnel file is redacted?” Barton asked as we walked onto the range.

“I have higher security clearance than you?” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, other than solidifying his position as the king of all snark.

“Your training files shouldn’t need redaction.” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, I guess you aren’t as special as you think you are,” I quipped back. He stopped and turned to look at me. “What?”

“I hope you’re ready to work for it, Sunshine.” He flipped the range lights on and gestured to a stall.

“Agent Barton, I think we would get along much better if you just stopped calling me Sunshine. My name is Ellis, or Anna, or Annie, if you’re feeling really fond of me. But calling me Sunshine is just condescending. And rude. And if I weren’t ready to work for it, I wouldn’t have come out with you today. So if we can just start over, I think we might both wind up happier.” I crossed my arms and stared at him. He met my eyes and nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Done.” He gestured toward the stall. “Step into my office, Ellis. I’d like to see exactly how terrible you are. Your trainer said you show hesitation and discomfort with your sidearm.”

“That sounds accurate.”

“What is it that makes you uncomfortable?” He asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, then, we’re going to hang around and shoot until you have a breakthrough,” he shrugged. He punched a button in the stall, and the target mount came rolling forward on a ceiling track. He attached a paper target, but it wasn’t person shaped. “This target won’t be as off-putting if it’s the idea of dropping a person that’s making you uncomfortable.”

I appreciated it because that was part of my issue, I was just too embarrassed to say anything. I felt awkward with the sidearm. I felt uncomfortable knowing that I was wearing something that had the power to end a life. Barton leaned back and watched as I shot at the target until my clip was empty. He reeled the target in and pulled it down to look at it without saying a word. I was secretly quite pleased with it. All my shots had hit the target, and I was starting to group the shots. It was a broad group, but it was a start.

Barton put a fresh target up and sent it down to the end of the range. He gave me a signal to go ahead and shoot, and stood directly behind me, just close enough to make me nervous, but far enough away that I could see him shifting in my peripheral vision. He was a completely different teacher than Phil. Of course, Phil had been interested before he started teaching me, so he’d seen an opportunity to combine teaching and flirting. But more than that, Phil wasn’t as guarded as Barton was. Where Phil was personable and easy to talk to, Barton was stiff and professional. And finally, Barton was not the least bit interested, and was maintaining a perfectly professional distance. I placed my sidearm on the counter in front of me, and waited for him to reel back the target. It was about the same. He traced his finger on the two furthest outlying holes.

“You twitch a little when you squeeze the trigger. I can see you’re trying not to. I think these were your first two shots. This time you’re only going to fire the first two, and we’ll see if I’m right,” he commented as he hung another target. When I had his signal, I fired the first two shots, and then put the gun down. He dropped the target on the counter in front of us, and pointed at the two shots.

“You’re not mentally prepared until your third shot.” There was no judgment, just observation.

“So how do I fix that?” I knew what he was saying was true. I was just not comfortable firing the weapon until a few shots were already gone.

“Practice. I mean, we could get into the psychology of why you hesitate, but I think most of that stuff is shit.” He flipped the switch to send a fresh target down the range. “Is it alright if I touch you, Ellis?”

“Of course, if you feel it will help,” I responded. He stood to my side and braced a hand under my own.

“I’ll hold you steady. A successful marksman, as I’m sure you’ve already been told, is aware of every part of her body. It’s about muscle memorization, and being inside your head enough that you know exactly when to squeeze the trigger on your exhalation,” he explained.

“I thought you said you didn’t buy into psychology.” It was a question.

“I don’t buy into fear. You’ve got some fear. So I need to help you eliminate that with confidence. And muscle memory, and routine. So that you don’t think about how you feel, and just think about the sidearm being an extension of you,” he explained and adjusted my hand a little before bracing his own hand under mine again. At his signal, I fired the weapon. He nodded, and I shot it again. I waited until he gave me the signal each time as I emptied the clip. I concentrated on how my arms felt, how my hands felt, where my shoulders were in relation to my hips and feet. It was similar theory to a lot of martial arts stances, when it was distilled down to its essence. The target floated forward, and Barton took it down and pointed at the grouping. It was better. It wasn’t like I’d instantly become a sniper, but it was a noticeable improvement.

We spent a few hours working through the various issues with my shooting as he pinpointed them, and by early afternoon my stomach was growling, but my shooting was significantly improved. Barton took down my final target and nodded.

“You’re a good student. You listen.” It was the first compliment he’d given me.

“I don’t want to waste your time, Agent Barton,” I acknowledged.

“Keep this attitude, and you won’t. And you’ll improve enough that we can come here as colleagues instead of as student and teacher.”

“I’ll never be as good as you!” I laughed.

“I didn’t say that,” he cracked a smile. “I just meant you won’t be an embarrassment.”

“Well, thanks then.” I couldn’t help but smile, despite the backhanded nature of the comment. I’d obviously made enough of an improvement that his disposition was improving. And to be completely fair, I would have been just as unimpressed with the assignment if I was in his shoes. He drove me back to my apartment in silence. It was kind of awkward and uncomfortable, but I fought the desire to babble at him, lest I say something to give Phil away.

“Did you know your personnel file has your relationship information in it?” He suddenly spoke.

“All the SHIELD personnel files do. They have information on every aspect of every employees life in them. I’ve often felt they’re too invasive, but considering the nature of the organization, I can understand why,” I answered.

“Your relationship information is redacted,” he stated.

“Like I explained before, Agent Barton, you have a lower clearance than I do,” I shrugged.

“Why the hell would your relationship information need to be redacted? I mean, I could understand if your partner was in a heavy cover situation, and it would keep you safe. But your guy was hiding in your room this morning. So it’s not like he’s in deep cover,” he puzzled. “Sorry, I just thought about that. It’s strange.”

“He is,” I blurted. “Heavy cover, I mean. He is.”

“With so little self control that he headed in for a booty call this morning?” Snarky Barton had returned. I fell silent. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t just dig me deeper into a pile of lies, or accidentally blow Phil’s secret. Barton pulled up outside my building.

“Well, uh, thanks,” I wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“I think we’re scheduled next for Tuesday. You should be trying to visit the range every day.” He looked at me, but it was more like he was looking through me, he was so intense.

“Right. See you Tuesday then.” I got out of the vehicle and headed into my apartment.

I was stretched out on the couch, reading a book when I heard my front door rattling. I rolled off the couch and crept over to my bookshelf without making a sound. I pressed myself against it, waiting for the door to open against it. It would give me sufficient cover to take whoever was trying to get in by surprise. I hadn’t thought to throw the chain on the door when I’d come in, and it was too late now. The door opened and stopped against the bookshelf, and without wasting time to look at who was entering my home, I stepped out behind him, gave him a quick punch to the kidneys and took him down, pinning his arms under me behind his back.

“Jesus, Annie! You gave me a key!” It was Phil. I rolled off his back and tried not to laugh. He rolled away from me and rubbed his back where I’d hit him.

“You could have texted and let me know you were coming back!” I exclaimed.

“I did, about an hour ago.” He picked up the brown paper bag he’d dropped when I’d jumped him. I pulled my phone from my pocket, but there was no message waiting. I force restarted it, and checked again. No message.

“I’ve got nothing.”

“Well, someone got my messages. We had a long conversation about wine,” he laughed, and pulled out his phone. He flicked through the message back to the original one, and confirmed it had come to me, and not someone on his team. I looked down at my phone and checked the setting and number, to make sure I hadn’t somehow managed to get Lex’s or Barton’s at some point during the day. It appeared to be my phone.

“That’s creepy. This is totally my phone, and our conversation record on my phone ends with your message from yesterday.” I felt a pang of warning in my belly. Phil must have had a similar response because he set his phone on the counter and grabbed my laptop. He connected the two and opened up a SHIELD window. After a few minutes, he shook his head and disconnected his phone.

“My phone is registered to an alias. The alias is still intact, so as long as whoever was messaging me was seeing the alias, it’s fine.”

“There have been way too many members of the Avengers Initiative hanging around me the last few days. Hand me my computer.” I’d encountered three of them in the past two days. I wasn’t taking any risks. I pulled up my HR files and opened Phil’s personnel file. As director of HR, I could see a list of anyone who had accessed the file. It had been accessed once a week ago and then once in the past 24 hours. I keyed in the passcode to reveal the viewer. It was listed as me.

“What the fuck?” I mumbled. I hadn’t viewed Phil’s file. I’d been too busy with restructuring, dealing with Fury and his training schedule, deflecting Stark’s weird dinner invites. “Stark. Shit. We have to get to the office, Phil.” I logged out of my laptop and opened the back of my phone. There was a barely noticeable clear film dot under my battery. I pulled it off and stuck it to the inside of the handle on my freezer. Phil peeled it off, and put it back in my phone.

“It’s better to not alert him that you’ve found it,” he said as he put my phone back together. I groaned and grabbed my keys.

“Let’s go. We have to find whatever bug or tracer he left in my office and destroy it,” I said. Phil nodded.

“That I will agree with. We’ll take Lola.”

We pulled into the underground parkade and Phil parked in my spot. The elevator felt so incredibly slow on the way up to the office. I tapped my foot impatiently.

“Relax, Anna. He’s had access for over 24 hours, he’s been into everything he probably wants to see.”

“He knows you’re alive, Phil,” I argued. “If he knows that, what else does he know?”

“Well, you know everything that’s in those files, Anna. It isn't just payroll codes and pension information. All our personal information is tracked too.” He gave me a meaningful look.

“He knows we’re dating,” I breathed.

“That would be my guess,” he nodded. The elevator finally opened at our floor. I stomped down to my office and threw open the door, half expecting to see Stark sitting at my desk. I went immediately to my Thor bobblehead and turned him over. Stark had put him down right beside my monitor, and I was sure he had the kind of tech that would allow for Wi-Fi sneakiness. Thor was untainted though. Thankfully. I moved to the Iron Man poster he’d had mounted behind my desk. I went as far as to open the frame and take it all apart. It was also clean. I went over my monitor, and desk, but they were also free of any kind of device. Phil had started on my bookshelf, but appeared to have been distracted by the Thor scrapbook.

“I will get rid of it if it bugs you that much, Phil,” I offered.

“There’s new pages in here. All about Iron Man,” he countered. He put the book down on my desk and flipped through the stuff Stark had added. I’d assumed he’d just written information into the book as a joke, and hadn’t had time to look yet. And he must have been banking on exactly that. The pages he’d added were some sort of plastic polymer, but you could see a faint outline of circuitry printed on them. I peeled a photo he’d stuck on one of the pages off, and it was obviously there to cover the main chip in the page. There was a faint red dot on the edge of the chip. I pulled a pair of scissors from my drawer and cut through the page. It was tough, but the light flickered out when I finally managed to cut through the centre of the page. I flipped to the next page, and did the same thing.

“I don’t understand why-“

“Anna, let me finish disabling this thing. You need to find out what all he’s accessed.” Phil held his hands out for the scissors. I sat down and logged in to my computer, and requested a listing of every file I’d accessed in the past 72 hours, just to be safe. The screen started filling with file locations. I opened a new window and accessed each file. Unsurprisingly, the first files were all the files on the Avengers Initiative. But then my file. And then Phil’s alias file. And with my security clearance, it automatically redirected into Phil’s file. After Phil’s file, each of the members of his team. And then a number of historical files. Goddamnit. Fury was going to kill me.

Phil took the cut pages over to the shredder and started attempting to shred them. I heard the main office door open, and looked up to see Stark walking in. I couldn’t warn Phil without alerting Stark. Phil glanced up and saw Stark and casually walked back to my office, and came to stand behind me. He squeezed my shoulder in reassurance.

“Annie.” With just that, I could hear the chastisement in Stark’s voice. “You’ve been keeping secrets. Phil, you look remarkable.”

[clockworkfromspace]

The Book v2 chapter 2

*Andrè begins to walk about the halls toward the door*

Chris was in there even though he was an Ultrabeings

Jea: Hi Chris!

He waves

Any teachers?

No? Good.

Mr. Taio: Okay everyone. Welcome to Ultra Study. If you took this class with me before, you should know that I am one of the seven most capable people equipped to teach this class.

*Andrè runs outside*

FREEEEEEEEDOMMMM

...

Freedom feels the same as being imprisoned

After school

Jea and Jenifer get on their bus

Josh goes to the car rider exit

*The next day*

Chris was already there

-Josh waits outside the bus ramp for the twins-

-their bus originally shows up-

Chris walks to the bus ramp but sees Josh and walks away

*Andrè shows up to school with a knife on his belt*

Morning

Chris was walking back needing to talk to jea

-the twins walk off the bus but Jea dresses like Jenifer so it's harder to tell them apart-

"Uuhh....jea?...."

-Jenifer subtlety points at Jea-

He looks at jea "Can I talk to you privately please?..."

Jea gasps

"How'd you know it was me? Do wolves have one sort of 6th sense or something?"

"No not really but this is important..."

Weird humans

Imma go inside

Jea: What do you need?

"Something happened yesterday and I need your help...."

Jea: Go on

"Can I talk to you without people around? Please"

Jenifer: I got where she goes

"Fine i-i'm...homeless my abusive brother threw me out yesterday"

Live in a tent-like I do

"So...the reason I wanted to talk to jea is that I trust her..."

Jenny: Need me to pound on your big bro? -she cracks her knuckles-

Need a hit?

Jea: No more fighting! You promised Jenny.

Just stole a night vision scope yesterday

Jenny: I promised I'd fight less.

Well I'm a free spirit

No parents

No relatives

No love or compassion

Jenifer: You dude, who are you anyway?

Andrè

I'm a hitman

Sorta

If someone would hire me

Jenifer: I have a few enemies.

Jea: Jennyyyyy

Jenifer: Kidding! -she mouths- "Sort of"

Heh

So

Who are you, people

Jea looks at both of them

"I'm not leaving the two of you alone. Now back to Chris"

Jea: I'm Jea and this is my sister Jenny. That's all there really is to us.

"Really...."

So Chris

"Hm?"

Tents are 15 bucks at Walmart

"I am not living in no tent!"

Man up

I live in one

"And I have no money my brother has it all"

Get a job

Jea: No one should have to live in a tent.

Jenifer: I agree but it's not like there's a variety of options

Jea frowns

Welp

My mom left and my dads dead soooooo

Jea: Oh! I know. He can live with us

Jenifer: Dad would never let that slide

Jea: You're right

Jenifer: Though, they don't really need to know...

If they found out

I don't think they'd appreciate having enough bombs in their basement to cause world war 3

Jenifer: Then I'll take the heat.

Jea: Jenny no.

Jenifer: Were not debating this.

Well

It's nicer than waking up to 3 wolf spiders

Jea: By the way, you weren't serious about the bombs right?

Ummm

Maybe

But I do have sniper rifles and assault rifles

Jenifer: Dude, as cool as it sounds, no heavy artillery in the house. Maybe a few handguns. Something easy to hide.

Where the hell am I supposed to keep my mini-nuke?

I'm joking

Jea: Thank god

But where am I supposed to, keep my guns

Jea: How about you keep all of your things that could be used to incriminate you in your tent.

Jea: and OUT OF OUR HOUSE

Jenifer: Also, where are we going to keep them? Andre and Chris I mean.

Jea: no one uses the attic.

Jenifer: Too many webs to clean.

Jenifer: though, if they're willing to clean it out.

Meh

Can't be that bad

Jea turns to Chris

"What do you say?"

He smiles and nods

-later that day, at the end of school-

So

Jea: Our dad shouldn't be home but just in case, well sneak you through the back door

"And your mom?"

Jea: Dead.

"Oh.....i'm sorry for asking...."

Jea: Its fine.

Jenifer: Come on, our bus is this way

He nods and follows

*Andrè follows*

They get to the house-

-Jenifer leads them to the attic-

"thank you again"

Jea: Anything for a new friend.

Thanks

I only have my micro smg and my 2 revolvers

That's it

Jea: NO GUNS!

Jenifer: Chill out sis

"Dang.."

Hm?

Jea: what's wrong Chris

"N-nothing..."

Jea: Why'd you say dang?

Hello strange human

"Forget i said anything"

hello

my name’s jeff

Jea: What are you doing in our house?

idk i just popped into existence

so who are all of you?

Jea: I'm Jea, this is my twin sister Jenny, this our friend Chris, and some random guy named Andre

I'm a psychotic motherfucker with guns

-You all hear the front door-

Great combination

Chris turns into a puppy and hides

dude that is awesome

Jenifer: Quickly, get into the attic

Jea: And you, mystery guy, sorry but you've got to go

me?

Jenifer: Yeah you

ok *dissappears and reappears in the attic*

Mr. Kon: Girls I'm home!

-Jea walks to the living room- "Hi daddy"

Jenifer: Andre hurry up while Jea distracts him

*wonders why I had to go into the attic*

*Andrè sneaks to the attic*

*whispers*oh hey.

*whispers* why are we in here?

We're not supposed to be here

oh ok

-Jenifer closes it-

wanna see something cool andrè?

Sure

watch this... *morphs into a pit viper and slithers around andrè*

Cool

I would shoot you but that would compromise us

*morphs back into a human*

That would*

don’t shoot me

Mr. Kon notices Christ's tail

Mr. Kon: Jea, did you bring home another stray?

I’m an animagus. I can transfigure into a snake at will

Jenifer whispers: go with it

He yelps scared and runs off

Jea: Yeah. But don't be upset.

don’t laugh at me... *disappears and reappears behind André*

behind*

I can teleport too

Jenifer: I told her not to but look at his eyes.

Mr. Kon: I can't he keeps running off.

so whatcha wanna do why we’re stuck up here

Chris sits down in front of Mr. Kon and looks at him with sad eyes

Jea: Can we pleaaaase keep him?

-Mr. Kon notices a lack of man parts- "I think you mean her and..... Sure."

Jenifer: She meant him. Meet the world's first transgender dog.

Mr. Kon: The fuck?

Jea: SWEAR JAR!

The dog smiles at jenny

Mr. Kon: Are you kidding me?

Jea: Nope!

His tail wags a lot

He jumps on Mr. Kon

Mr. Kon: Ah

-the next day-

Chris wakes up

He gets ready and heads to the bus stop without being seen

*Andrè sneaks out the house and walks to school

Out*

*teleports from the attic to the first block*

Chris was in his first block

ooh hey. I remember you. u were that puppy!

He blushes "y-ya...."

*teleports behind Chris* I can transfigure into a snake

Chris stabs jeff before he spoke not knowing who it was

*writhes in pain* ow-owwww

"Oh god...... I'm so sorry" he bandages it up

i-it’s fine

I heal fairly fast too

*wound stops bleeding*

"So your not human either?"

no

idk what I am

I’m a teleporting animagus

and I have fairly fast healing abilities

"Which is not human"

yeah

"And you already know I'm not human but anyway what's your name I forgot to ask"

it’s jeff

yours?

"Chris"

well nice to meet you, Chris! *sticks hand out to shake Chris's hand*

Chris shakes his hand

so, who were the other people?

"Idk their classes...."

well, who were they?

"Jea and jenny"

*time skip to lunch*

Jea, Jenifer, and Josh show up

Together

Chris walks up to them he looks at jea and jenny "please don't be mad at me because of yesterday"

Jea: Mad about what?

*walks into the cafeteria and over to Chris*

hey guys

"About your dad seeing me... And hey"

*whispers to Chris* do other people at the school know about us having abilities or do we have to keep that hidden?

Jea: That wasn't your fault

Jenifer: It was a little. He could have stayed calm and rushed to the attic instead of running off as a puppy.

"Keep them hidden"

Jenifer: Though things worked out for the better

"Y-ya...."

damn... that means I gotta walk places

Jenifer: It's better to have him disguised as a puppy then hiding him like Andre

you guys must me Jea and Jenifer. I’m jeff

Jea: We already met

oh yeah

Jea: You popped into our house

still don’t know how I got there

"Ya"

thanks

I wanna pull a prank *smirks*

"On who?"

I don’t know

we gotta find a group of preppy girls

Jea: That would be mean.

I know

Jenifer: Yet funny.

but hella funny

Jenifer: I'm in.

Jea: Jennyyyyy.

ayy... i like your attitude *smiles and looks at jenifer* u seem pretty cool.

well chris can turn into a puppy, correct?

Jea: You're a bad influence -she glares at Jeff-

i know *smirks*

Jenifer: Not really, sweety. I was born this way. He has nothing to do with it

Jea: Yeah but he came up with the prank idea.

"Ya jeff i can.."

Jea: Besides, you've already been written up 11 times and it's only the third day of school.

Jea: Make that 15

Jea: CHRIS NOT YOU TOO

so the plan is, you’re gonna lure them over to you with the adorable puppy eyes

Josh: Can I help?

Jenifer: ew, no way.

"Oh no...."

and then i’m gonna be in snake form and i’m going to teleportin between them and you

teleport in between*

it’ll be great.

Jenifer: More of a jump scare than a prank.

and sure josh i guess you and jenifer can point chris out

yeah but still funny as hell

so you guys in?

"Yes!"

Jea turns around and crosses her arms

Jenifer: Hell yeah

Josh: Yep

-jenifer pushes Josh aside-

[ciathyzareposts]

Saigon: The Final Days – WON! and Final Rating

by Will Moczarski

Last time I was severely stuck. Not even the first room in Asylum had given me such a headache. I was unable to venture past the Viet Cong gun nest and unable to open the dead soldier’s snap pocket on the starting screen. I must have tried almost everything – I even tried to do something in the one round before the hut is blown to pieces in case you need to manipulate the initial timed explosion (it occurs after one move no matter what you do) somehow. At least, I thought, my introduction was as spoiler-free as possible. All of that will change now – it’s time to leave Saigon. Unfasten your seatbelts, we’re in for a bumpy ride!

In hindsight, all puzzles are easy. Moreover, I even had used the necessary verb before, in the first Jyym Pearson adventure I played through for the blog: Curse of Crowley Manor. Back then I didn’t even think about it too much. I simply unfastened the screws after having found a screwdriver. With the pliers and the snap pocket, this particular verb simply didn’t occur to me at all for a very long time.

Everyday work life has one thing in common with adventure games: it’s sometimes necessary to take a break and step back, look at it all from a distance, unwind. It’s the only thing that helped me solve Saigon: The Final Days. Suddenly I had this idea: what about unfasten? Have I tried that already? I think I haven’t… and it does the trick: unfasten snap pocket. Simple as that. Now I simply love the feeling when a gameworld opens up after a bottleneck puzzle. It’s one of the things that keeps me playing.

In the pocket, there are a document and a grenade. The document is a U.S. memo and reads “Code = White X-Mas.” A Bing Crosby reference? Using the grenade is straightforward and works the same way as in Asylum: I can pull the pin out and then throw the grenade across the clearing to explode the gun nest. Now I can access the new area safely but boy, this game just loves to kill ya. There’s a dead Viet Cong soldier in the gun nest and the game helpfully tells me that “something is under him.” I can move him, causing a booby trap to blow up in my face. At least I can start anew without further penalties. There is also a small radio and when I listen to it, I can hear Bing Crosby sing “White Christmas”. What is this supposed to mean? Do the U.S. troops know they need to attack to the tune of this? Is this the reason my prison was blown to pieces in the beginning? Or will it become important later? Spoiler: it won’t.

East of the gun nest, there’s a Viet Cong minefield. If I move in any direction but north, I step on a mine and have to, you guessed it, start over again. There appears to be no way to map the minefield, and it’s not a maze either, merely a dead end. North of the mine field there’s a muddy dirt road stretched out over three screens. A jungle is east and dense bushes are west but I can’t enter either. Going too far north will let me enter a Viet Cong checkpoint but I get killed right away and I have to start over once more. However, looking and listening several times will help you out as is the case in most Jyym (and Robyn) Pearson games. Looking at the road on the second screen will reveal a gigantic rock. Yes, you just read that sentence. No, it doesn’t make sense. Climbing the rock will get you back to the beginning, effectively providing a circular route to prevent you from having to enter the minefield (i.e. dying) to restart. If you listen on the next screen, there’s a whirring sound from behind the bushes. I reckon that it’s a helicopter but can’t seem to find a way to enter the bushes. However, upon returning to the gun nest and looking again for no particular reason but my experience with this particular game designer, I find that the corpse and booby trap are now gone, Bing Crosby stopped singing and there’s a machete on the ground. Now what did popular culture teach us about machetes? Right, I’ll just cut that bush with it. I actually assume that this will open up a lot of new ex-jungle and ex-bush exits but that is not the case. “Cut bush” doesn’t even work. I remember the recent unfasten fiasco and think of other verbs Jyym Pearson is usually fond of, and “chop bush” reliably does the trick. This would’ve cost me some time if I hadn’t played the other OtherVentures so recently, I’m sure.

Now that I’ve cut a hole (yes, the game does not know the verb at first but tells me it did cut a hole after the fact!) I can enter a clearing with a U.S. helecopter (sic!). A soldier beckons me and I can talk to him but he only tells me to climb aboard. Inside the chopper there’s a ring of keys for some vehicle but otherwise there’s nothing to do except talk to the soldier. He’s got a lot to say as well: “Ford issued the orders we’re all leaving ‘Nam! The Viet Cong are outside the perimeter, Saigon is a mess! The Vietnamese are trying to crash the embassy to escape!” There’s your historical backstory. After that, however, something seems to be off. The soldier suddenly says “Hold on..what’s that?” and then the chopper is struck by a rocket. After another turn, we’re going down and I find myself “paralized” (sic!).

I try several things to get out of my conundrum but moving does not work and trying to open my eyes comes back with “not now”. But soon? I seem to be on the right track. “Move yourself” counterintuitively does the trick, and after entering the same thing four times I can move and my muscles are back to working condition. Now I can also open my eyes and find myself lying on the dirt floor of a small shabby hut. I really used to be stumped when I suddenly had to refer to my body parts in a text adventure as I didn’t consider them part of my ‘inventory’. In some Infocom adventure I needed to open my eyes as well, if I remember correctly. Nowadays, it’s standard repertoire.

Looking again reveals that I’m inside the home of a beautiful Vietnamese girl. When I talk to her, she relates that her name is Ming Li and proceeds to bring me some food. It’s rice but it’s crawling with bugs so I assume that it’s a puzzle – however, it’s only flavour (excuse the pun). I just have to eat it. When I talk to her again she asks me where I want to go. If I say “Saigon” she takes me there. Now this is one of Pearson’s famous scripted sequences but this time you really have to pay attention. Ming Li takes me along some secret path to Saigon and I have to attempt to map it while waiting for us to get there. In one of the dark tunnels I stumble over something – I suppose that I will need to return there to pick it up. In a dimly lit room, Ming Li pulls a chain and thus reveals a secret rope ladder. The next thing I know we’re in Saigon and I’m back in control – but not quite because Ming Li is suddenly shot to death by one of two soldiers running down the street chasing after a prisoner. Blood splatters all over me and if I look at Ming Li’s corpse, the game tells me that it makes me cry. Wow, that was an unforeseen turn of events. The whole encounter is a bit stereotypical but for a 1981 text adventure it’s a really moving attempt to show you the horrors that can occur in a war-torn environment.

  It almost does.

East of the scene of the war crime there is a flimsy wooden door behind which I can find a deserted warehouse. I can chop the door open with my machete and remove the wires with my pliers. It doesn’t take me too long to figure it out but the game still loves to kill me: the warehouse is dark and when I listen closely I can make out some heavy breathing from the south. If I go there, I am shot to death once more. None of my items seem to help me, so I try something else after restoring. West of the narrow street where we first entered Saigon some steps lead upwards. Similar to a situation in Earthquake, there is an American G.I. on top of the stairs guarding a security gate, and he won’t let me pass without a pass. Seeing as I don’t have one – my own people bombed the hut I was kept in as a prisoner, remember? – I suspect that I’ll have to backtrack via Ming Li’s secret passages. I die several more times as you have to retrace her steps precisely or you’ll drop down into deep pits which seem to be almost everywhere. Just where I stumbled over something when Ming Li led me past here, I can use my recently acquired Escape from Traam skills to “feel object” in the dark. I find that it’s a corpse, and upon closer examination I can steal his or her uniform. Not seeing how that may help me with the warehouse sniper (although possibly with the G.I. at the security gate?) I backtrack some more to Ming Li’s now abandoned hut. I find another screen (“W end of a ravine”) while mapping the non-lethal portions of this section as cautiously as possible, and also discover that Ming Li’s hut was destroyed by another rocket. I can investigate a crashed helecopter (sic!) – is this the horse I rode in on? – and a dead soldier which turns up some night-vision goggles (“binoculars”) as well as a wallet with a pass and a revolver. This should solve all of my problems! I go back to Saigon and discover along the way that the west end of the ravine is now populated with a party of Viet Cong. Better not go there in order to avoid another restart.

Back in Saigon I try the warehouse next. Looking through the binoculars reveals a figure to the south where the heavy breathing comes from. I can then proceed to shoot the revolver and the figure drops dead (he shot first!, albeit at another incarnation of me). He leaves behind a shovel, a parachute and dog tags but I can’t pick up all of these at once as the six-item inventory limit is as sneaky as the enemy. I decide to only take the shovel for now but take some notes to remember the other items when it seems that I might need them. Also I drop the binoculars, the pliers and the machete as it seems likely I won’t need them again.

I show the pass (not the wallet, that doesn’t work!) to the G.I. and he lets me enter a narrow street. There I am stopped by a Vietnamese soldier who wants something that will help him escape Saigon. This must be the U.S. Army uniform I found in the cave! I hand it to him and see him go away happily, leaving me to explore further. To the east there is a wide plaza. Refugees are sleeping on the ground. If I linger for too long, they kill me, lynch mob style. To the east there is a burned courtyard. It seems odd that all of the walls are described in detail: “Brick walls are N and S. A wood fence is E.” There was a similar room in Earthquake where I had to deduce that I might need a ladder. I don’t have anything I might need to build one, though. It doesn’t matter anyway, as the solution turns out to be a very different one.

Across the river

South of the plaza there is a tank, and a Vietnamese officer looks out of the hatch. I can shoot him but if I linger for too long the mob kills me. If I climb the tank I am stuck and cannot open the hatch anymore. I don’t figure out how to work the controls, either, so I restart the whole game, assuming I am dead-ended. After some more fiddling I eventually find out that “drive tank” does the trick. Nevertheless I end up dead, hitting a brick wall after two turns. However, I get it right on the next try: You have to maneuver the tank around the brick walls which is what the detailed descriptions were for. The trusty “E” does not work but “turn east” lets me drive into the burned courtyard and crash into the river which is where I can improbably escape the tank because the hatch is no longer stuck, I assume? It’s a nice sequence, though.

Swimming gets me across the river and I emerge on its eastern bank. Here there are some new puzzles for me to solve. To the west there’s a large makeshift arena where some people play chicken. A poisonous snake (get out of my head, Cedric!) is passed to and fro between two opponents and will bite him who moves first. The game plays out before my eyes but I cannot participate (yet). One of the opponents will win $1000, the other one will be doomed to die. Once more, Pearson’s choice of words is a bit off: a “chinaman” presents the game, and a “burly oriental” throws me out. From a 2019 point of view, I could have done without these.

Just to the south is another good example of a classic Pearson “look twice” puzzle. “You are at the E bank of a river on a rocky trail”, the game informs me. If I “look”, I see nothing special. I need to “look rocks” to discover some white streaks which turn out to be chalk. I can’t pick it up, though, so I don’t know what it’s for. Further to the south there is a dirty street. To the east I can see a barbed wire gate guarded by a Vietnamese man. He tells me that “only his people are allowed in gate” but if I return there and talk to him several more times he will ask me who sent me. The answer is obviously “Ming Li”, and he will grant me access.

Even further to the south there is a bricked up building with a water pipe leading up. It’s too slippery to climb but I have a suspicion how it might work. I can “rub hands” on the chalk and now it works. Good thing that I never miss my Olympic Games transmissions. I reach the roof of a building and from there I can see gunfire at the edge of the city. To the south there’s a fire ladder, and when I climb down I find myself in a plaza in front of a big pavillion (sic!) which turns out to be the Huang Lo Pavilion. (Shouldn’t that be Huang-Lao, and isn’t that in fact Chinese? Can somebody enlighten me?) I am confronted by a Vietnamese soldier who wants to be bribed in order to let me pass. I’d better win that snake game, I assume.

The first round nets me $1000 for doing absolutely nothing, so I go back to the Vietnamese solider in triumph but he informs me that $1000 is only half the sum he wants. Can I play again? Turns out I can but this time I die. Does it have a random outcome? Would the game be this cruel?

I decide to explore the crowded courtyard full of Vietnamese east of the barbed wire gate some more. Looking reveals nothing new except for a door to the south which I can’t unlock. I find, however, if I listen closely, that there appears to be a voice in my head! It’s Ming Li! And she helps me from beyond the grave, Obi-Wan Kenobi style! “Help inside..carry box….key in depths..” What does this mean? Key in depths? Wait, can I possibly dive in the river?

Turns out I can! At the bottom of the river there’s a rusty key that will open the door. Behind the door I find a smashed apothecary shop with shelves full of broken bottles. Trying to pick up a box with ampules causes me to break them, and some kind of liquid spills on my hands. I can’t read the “Chineze” symbols on the small box but as Ming Li advised me to carry it, I pick it up. Without a real lead, I try to venture south again. Maybe the soldier will let me pass because he will mistake me for a “Chineze” courier? No, I can’t even climb the pipe because the liquid made my hands slippery…wait a minute! Could this be helpful with the snake? It could! The game master even tells me that he hopes I have applied the snake repellent this time so I know I must be on the right track. I win another $1000 and can now pay the Vietnamese soldier.

This is where I’m stuck for quite a while, and I spend roughly my last half hour of playtime figuring out this final puzzle. I can’t enter the pavilion, no matter how hard I try. I figure out that I can climb the ramp leading up to a U.S. chopper but a soldier tells me to get lost because they will only transport the dead for now. Do I have to die first? Would the game be this cynical? I think of my previous OtherVentures experiences and think about the ending of Earthquake. To board the refugee boat I had to dress up like a woman. How would a dead soldier leave Vietnam? Is this why I found the dog tags?

All the places I’ve seen, boys

Convinced that I need some disguise I search the whole map once again. I find that the Viet Cong are no longer at the western end of the ravine. Instead there is a “V.C.map” with directions to the nearest escape route. Huang Lo Pavilion is marked in red. Looking at the place again also reveals a dirt mound. I backtrack to the warehouse to collect my shovel and then dig up the mound. Eureka – I uncover a corpse in a plastic bag, and removing the bag enables me to pick it up. I’ll spare you my last bout of parser-wrestling and just tell you that I manage to return to the ramp, drop the bag, climb the bag and after a few turns I find myself in that chopper on my way home. This is quite a strong anti-war metaphor, and it’s very much in keeping with the way the game constantly kills you through traps you cannot avoid. What do I make of all this? We’ll see right after the obligatory ports comparison.

I dood it!

Ports Comparison

This is going to be a short one, unfortunately. Only the two Atari versions – with and without pictures – are available. There are two screenshots from the TRS-80 CoCo version over at lcurtisboyle.com but apart from that I can’t show you much – the Apple ][ version which seems to have existed, too, is all but lost.

First Room

After the explosion

Because the text is the same in the two Atari ports, I have only played the version with pictures to let you see what they look like. In general, the pictures are really adding to the tension. You can see the gun nest across the clearing, for example, and picking up the pliers genuinely feels like stealing them from under the Viet Congs’ noses. The wording is sometimes different – I can’t look at the soldier in the beginning but need to “look Viet Cong” to see the jacket and my beloved snap pocket. After the helicopter crash, moving is sufficient, you don’t need to “move yourself” here. I am now “parylized”, not “paralized”, but still not paralyzed.

Ming Li: First Encounter

Ming Li: Final Goodbye

Ming Li now “mumbles Vietnamese” before telling me her name. They still didn’t correct the spelling of the “helecopter”. The Viet Cong no longer leave behind the V.C. map.

First person perspective

Apart from that, it’s the same game. I’ll rate the graphics below but I’ll just say that they are very atmospheric and much better than the Apple ][ graphics for the previous three OtherVentures.

Last room

WON!

PISSED Rating

Of all the four OtherVenture games I’ve recently played for the blog, I enjoyed Saigon: The Final Days the most. The serious setting was handled better than in Earthquake – San Francisco 1906 and it was not as pulpy (though I liked that, too!) as Curse of Crowley Manor. Let’s not talk about Escape from Traam, please. I’m curious how that will reflect in its PISSED score. I’ll try to be objective.

Puzzles & Solvability: That bottleneck puzzle! It took me a long, long time to solve it and I’d almost given up on the game when I finally did. It’s possibly my own fault but I feel that there was quite a bit of guess-the-verb involved here. Previous knowledge helped, making “chop bush” or “remove wire” rather minor offenders. Had I not played the other OtherVentures first I may have been stuck in these situations, too. Apart from that, puzzles are generally much more logical and much more enjoyable to solve than in the other three games. It’s a mixed bag but still an improvement, so I’ll say 4.

Interface & Inventory: More of the same. The use of the parser feels more natural and the inventory limit is not as punishing – there is only one situation that requires you to backtrack because of it. However, there are still some instances of guesswork as described above in the P category. Same release year, no changes: still a 3.

Story & Setting: Ambitious and effective. Saigon: The Final Days takes a cue from Earthquake – San Francisco 1906 and includes many descriptions for the sake of atmosphere while adding a (very short, potential) love story, many encounters with refugees, Viet Cong and G.I.s as well as a varied depiction of Vietnam: 4.

Sound & Graphics: Just a picture on the right side of the screen. The pictures in the Atari version are really good and much better than the ones made for the Apple ][ ports of the other games. Sadly I am unable to compare them to the Apple ][ version of this game but I assume they may be the roughly the same. I’ll give it 1 point for the picture on the right and I’d give it 4 points for the Atari version.

Environment & Atmosphere: The game makes you feel tense and kills you often. I normally don’t like that in an adventure game but in this case the penalty for dying is not too bad – you restart with your inventory intact and there are only few instances in which your death will dead-end you. Saigon: The Final Days does a great job to evoke a situation of utmost urgency – a country during the final days of a devastating war is represented by an air of mistrust, corruption, and general sobriety. This is amazing work for a text adventure and I’ll award that with a high score of 6.

Dialogue & Acting: Better dialogue than in Earthquake – take, for example, the soldier in the chopper who informs you of the background situation, or Ming Li who makes her presence felt even after her cruel and random death. No acting, of course, but Saigon tries to make human encounters more meaningful which is a commendable idea: 2.

Jyym & Robyn Pearson teamed up for this game for the first time. They also worked together on The Institute, I think but after that he went it alone for his final three games. I have played The Institute years ago and thought that it was a great game, in fact it was one of the two reasons for this marathon (the other was Asylum II). Maybe their joint efforts resulted in their best games – they seem to have made a great team from what I can tell by playing through these games. I also like that all of these games have a clear handwriting to them, yet they’re all very different. Jyym Pearson tried something new with every one of his games and that makes his œuvre constantly interesting. Without further ado, I’ll add it up now: 4 + 3 + 4 + 1 + 6 + 2 = 20 / 0.6 = 33 points.

Sounds reasonable! It’s less complex than Asylum but makes up for it through its atmosphere and its writing. I could have punished the initial puzzle a bit harder but maybe it was just my own stupidity. In my post-game research I have found two reader’s letters asking for help with the game: one was stuck in the minefield, the other was unable to get past the gun nest. Apparently I was not alone with this but still: I won’t be too harsh. Anybody who will be stuck there in the future can now look up the solution at The Adventure Gamer! The Atari version would receive an even higher score due to the nice graphics: 38 points seems right as well.

All things considered, Saigon: The Final Days receives the highest score I’ve given so far: 33 points. I feel like such a cheapskate! The PISSED rating system was not conceived for early adventures – especially text adventures – and I definitely had more fun with the game than that. By comparison with all of the other games from the era, it seems fair enough. Coincidentally, this concludes my Jyym & Robyn Pearson mini-marathon. Their other four games were published by Med Systems and are thus part of the main marathon. Next up is The Institute before I will wrap up the second year of our marathon and play all of their available non-adventure games released in 1981. See you soon!

Session time: 2 hr Total time: 6 hr

Med Systems Marathon Overview:

(a) 1980 Summary (b) Reality Ends (1980) (c) Rat’s Revenge / Deathmaze 5000 (1980) (d) Labyrinth (1980) (e) Asylum (1981) (f) Microworld (1981)

Jyym & Robyn Pearson Mini-Marathon Overview: (a) Curse of Crowley Manor (1981) (b) Escape from Traam (1981) (c) Earthquake – San Francisco (1981)

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/saigon-the-final-days-won-and-final-rating/