#Malcolm Hargrove

[sixsobbles]

I was too busy playing I Became A Dog and completely forgot I said I'd post this.

The Triplets 2.0 don't fit but I have done them. I'll post them whenever I post on here next I swear. Anyways enjoy the rest of PFL and CI‼️

Btw I think I'm real clever for the Sharkface design. My Insta because it has a lot more art on it.

[nevada-got-screwed-over]

Taglist: @averagejoey2000

Original Inspiration / Masterpost

Chapter 18 / Chapter 20

Theta!South AU. I Guess.

Chapter: 19

Words: “I am going to be sooo normal when RvB Restoration comes out” (3,356)

Cracking open an AI storage unit from the inside turned out to be the easy part. Finally through the last shell of code, Theta was buzzing with an exhausted mania. The circuits of the unit were running hot from his frantic tear through its security measures, and if he wasn’t careful, he might short it out.

Not that he was in any condition to do much more than wait in the void, staring at the empty storage unit around him. And the not-Delta light blue projection sitting next to him.

“Who are you?” Theta asked, breathless. He felt that the construct was a part of his code – not something melded with the storage unit’s security measures, but something born from his own meddling.

“Hell if I know,” The construct shrugged, his voice tinged with amusement. “I just work here.” He gestured to Theta, confirming the AI fragment’s intuition.

“I didn’t code a...custodian.” He huffed, slowly sitting up. The circuits were gradually cooling, but he didn’t want to overtax his own fraying code.

“Hey I didn’t ask to be made,” There was a bitter undercurrent in the construct’s voice that wavered against his prior blasé attitude. “Neither did you, I guess.”

“Are you...am I going rampant?” He didn’t have the energy to be afraid of the answer.

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe? I’m not you’re fucking therapist.” The construct’s flippant demeanor returned. Theta wasn’t sure why he found it comforting. “I’m in charge of all those memories you’ve got. Same as how D’s in charge of logic and stats bullshit.” Theta jumped to his feet, the bolt of energy dangerously warming the circuits.

“Delta’s – you’re not an AI fragment. Delta – Delta’s not here.”

“Wow, great work Sherlock.” The construct shook his head. Even sitting, he was nearly Theta’s height. He poked a finger at his helmet, as best a holographic construct could. “Your memory of him is here. And you made some code to curate your memories, which is what I do.”

“You made a – a version of Delta? From my memories?”

“Jesus Christ what is so difficult about this kid – you made us! All of us! We’re parts of you!” The construct stood, gesturing wide with his arms. Most of the flickering multicolored constructs faded quickly, but Delta’s green glow remained.

“What Epsilon is trying to say is that, even though you are a fragment of the Alpha, your experiences and ability to learn from them have changed you.” His even tone soothed the storage unit’s overtaxed circuits. Theta was subconsciously aware he was executing a string of code to optimize the unit’s efficiency.

“See – leave it to D to remember dumb shit like that. Epsilon...wasn’t that Wash’s AI? The one that freaked out and –”

“You’re not real.” Theta said it like a question, but he knew the answer. Some childish, hopeful part of him didn’t want to be alone.

“Real is relative. We exist to execute and refine your own coding. In that manner, we are very real. We are not, however, the AI you remember us as.”

“I never met Epsilon.”

“But you heard of him. And, you were made from the Alpha. The piece of code for his memory is the same as yours, and both culminated as your own Epsilons.”

“So I’m not going rampant?” Theta flinched back from the silvery shadow echoing around him like a second set of armor. Iota – he remembered him, one of Carolina’s AI – the facet of fear. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“In a psychological sense, no, you are not going rampant.” Delta’s glow was steady, his cadence perfectly staccato. “While there is only one case of an AI fragment supposedly experiencing rampancy,” Sigma’s amber shimmer was a passing haze in the void, “Rampancy is predicated on the four stages, and as you have yet to experience these in any meaningful manner, I find it highly unlikely that you are at risk of rampancy in your current state.”

The relief was nearly tangible, Eta’s golden shadow eclipsing his twin’s silvery shimmer.

“You’re fine, kid.” The Epsilon construct’s hand hovered over Theta’s shoulder, contact between their holographic forms impossible but the gesture understood. “We’ve got your back. Now get out there so you can watch hers.”

The electrifying panic and frazzled confusion of these revelations collapsed like the waveform of a light particle under observation. The void of the unit dimmed as the constructs faded, Theta’s anxiety quelled to an eerie calm. He wasn’t going rampant. He was...well, something.

But he wasn’t a threat to South.

And they were supposed to take care of each other. He couldn’t do that sitting in a storage unit. The circuits had cooled enough for him to safely feel out an escape route, the immediate area void of ports he could access. It didn’t take long to identify one he could, some lingering threads of code that reminded him of Delta refining his search.

The jump was long for an AI but instantaneous to human eyes, if any were present to observe the flicker of violet from the humming storage unit to the desk port. The rudimentary access to sensors in the room did not identify any life signs, so Theta felt safe to project his hologram as he poked at the system’s security and took in his surroundings.

He expected a storage facility, full of other abandoned AI units – maybe shoved on a shelf or stuffed in a crate. He didn’t expect the sterile, museum case exhibits full of Freelancer technology and artifacts. After spending so long fighting through memories and half-dreams-half-nightmares, Theta was frozen under the golden glare of the Meta’s helmet.

--

South was finding it hard to keep a straight face in the back of the limo (at the very least, Hargrove had class). The previously composed CEO was either not restraining himself from maintaining his aloof confidence, or he was simply too enraged to keep his composure.

Whatever he was hearing, it wasn’t good news.

“What do you mean – ? A…doesn’t simply fail. No, don’t…I’ll be there soon.”

South was only catching snippets of his grumbled conversation from her seat. This wasn’t going to be the controlled, poised introduction to working with Charon that Hargrove had planned for her.

“Everything good up there?” She rolled her eyes, ignoring how the hired muscle flanking her bristled as she spoke. If she was going to attack their boss, she wasn’t going to announce it. Hargrove shot her a glare and hung up the in-car phone. With a sigh his features smoothed, brow softened as he found the air of detached control that he had lost during the phone call.

“Yes. We’ll be arriving shortly.”

The compound was impressive, awash in white spotlights that made the insects flying in the night air glow like snowfall. Vaulted walls veiled in barbed wire – no doubt electrified – and the small private army of armor-clad security would be overkill for any UNSC installation. Charon had no such limitation in budget or motivation; the technology here was the best in the galaxy, after all. Not to mention that the massive cruiser on the launchpad several kilometers from the front gate had a pretty price tag too.

“Sir, the situation –” The armored guard cut themself off as South stepped out of the limo behind Hargrove.

“What? Your boss interrupted my beauty sleep.” South cracked a smile, knowing the guard’s apprehension wasn’t from shock at her bedraggled appearance. The eyes behind their visor betrayed a tense caution. They knew who she was. They knew what she was capable of. And they knew Hargrove had a pair of bodyguards keeping their pistols at the ready for good reason.

She was enjoying this perhaps a little too much, given her situation, but she took what little joy she could from the undercurrent of fear from the people around her. They were right to be afraid of an ex-black ops agent brought here against her will – even if she was here under Hargrove’s promise to return Theta. He said her soonest chance to kill him was months away, which gave her a wide window to prepare and plan.

At least, that’s what she told herself, ignoring the slam of the gates behind them and the hum of the electric fence. If Charon wanted to put her on a leash, she was going to make them regret it the second it loosened. Eventually.

--

He wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to jump directly into the wires, all that mattered was that he was out, and he wasn’t going to get caught again. Not there. Anywhere but there. Which turned out to be the mainframe of the place he found himself in.

Theta could feel the structure’s internal security measures kicking in, hunting him down like he was a virus. Which, he probably resembled in his fragmented state and with his expertly targeted attacks against the hapless security programs. He had plenty of practice cracking into security systems when he helped South and the other mercenaries break into buildings – how much harder could a Halberd-class destroyer be?

The system was massive; it wouldn’t be difficult to hide from the sub-optimal security code, but Theta couldn’t hide forever. He needed to know where he was. Where South was. And he needed a plan to get back to her.

Where exactly was he? A former Insurrectionist ship, apparently. The Staff of Charon wasn’t UNSC registered; this was a private vessel, which was difficult to fathom given the sheer amount of personnel and firepower it carried. Theta had concocted hundreds of contingency plans for UNSC discovery and capture – the privately operated Charon wasn’t something he planned for.

He pushed back against his anxiety; the fears and whispers that he couldn’t face this unknown combated with solid logic: if he was here, South was likely present on-board as well. Given the amount of classified Freelancer technology on-board, himself included, the entity responsible for his capture had violated several regulations. If Charon put this much time and energy into collecting baubles from the most infamous black-op of the Great War, they wouldn’t toss a neural-implanted and experienced soldier into some UNSC cell – she would talk.

Theta didn’t entertain the most efficient way they could keep her quiet. South wasn’t helpless without him. She was fine. She had to be – he could prove it when he found her.

He needed to find South, and to do that, he would need to commandeer some of the ship’s auxiliary systems – access to cameras, audio and hologram devices, whatever he could wrench away from the system's control. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too conspicuous…

If it was, he was sure door controls wouldn’t be too difficult to add to his newly refined processing powers. If he could control the ship, he could find South and control their means of escape.

--

She had the instinct to scheme – to plan and take inventory of possible routes of escape – despite her earlier resolve to accept whatever consequences came from this ‘opportunity.’ Despite knowing that she couldn’t fight her way out of this, not even if she had Theta. But the power armor in front of her was a tempting suggestion that she could, somehow, fight the crushing inevitability of her situation.

The changing room was clinical and bare, the harsh white lights illuminating the sleek armor pieces. They were plain and dark, hardly a different color from the undersuit, but clearly a technological upgrade from her former armor.

South turned the recon helmet over in her hands, running a thumb over the empty AI port. She was acutely aware of her own empty neural implant, the small pieces of medical grade metal shifting under her skin as she shrugged her shoulders and cracked her neck. Once she had Theta, it didn’t matter if she was reduced to taking orders from Hargrove or running for the rest of her life.

As long as they did it together; they were supposed to look after each other, after all.

There were no enhancements and – predictably – no weapons with the armor, leaving it uncomfortably light. Maybe this new power armor was just made lighter, or maybe she was still itching to put a bullet through Hargrove’s smug smile and he was wise to take measures to prevent that.

But the texture of the undersuit against her skin, the sound of armor pieces snapping into place…there was a veneer of nostalgia and familiarity keeping her from flinching away from the soldier staring back at her from the mirror. The helmet clicked softly as it connected with the undersuit, her hastily tied back hair too long to be comfortable in the helmet.

(How the hell did Carolina ever put up with this? She would have to find someone to bother about a haircut – she doubted Hargrove would give her the safety scissors to do it herself.)

South didn’t bother softening her glare at the CEO as she stepped out into the armory – not that he could see it through the tint of her visor. She loathed to be defenseless in a room full of weapons she wasn’t allowed to touch. Or at the very least, she would be shot before she could touch them. Dozens of soldiers milled about, some in power armor and others basic uniforms, but they all gave Hargrove and his goons a wide berth.

“I hope the armor is to your liking.” He marched onward through the compound, South following even as a pair of armored soldiers flanked her. At the very least, Hargrove’s paranoia that she was a threat to him was boosting her confidence.

“It’s...new.” She grumbled, the HUD incredibly basic and awkwardly formatted as she scanned over the faces that passed by. How she missed her old HUD – both her power armor and modified helmet were optimized by Theta to match her preferences. Hopefully he could work with this new interface.

“War drives ingenuity. It’s a pity you Freelancers didn’t stay in the UNSC fold at the end of the war. Even if your specialized equipment excelled, you certainly missed out on many wonderful advancements in power armor.”

“I’m sure we did.” South squinted as they exited the compound, an armored vehicle waiting in the early morning sun.

She looked toward the massive ship in the distance, dread setting in her bones. It was just short of a miracle she had made it back to her homeplanet in one piece, so many other soldiers never did. Was this the last sunrise she would see, or would she be lucky enough to come home again?

Part of her grieved the missed opportunity to reconnect with the family that had buried an empty casket for her.

Part of her was glad she had one less painful goodbye to make.

The loading bay of the massive cruiser – or maybe it was a destroyer? - was thrumming with activity when they arrived. That much she expected from a ship preparing to break atmosphere, but there was a certain anxiety to the movements of staff and soldiers alike. The longer she watched Pelican pilots hover by their crafts and technicians cluster around control panels, the more she was convinced this was the source of Hargrove’s earlier frustrations.

“Something wrong?” She asked innocently enough as Hargrove led her to one of the quieter hallways, still bustling with black and red armored bodies. Her hands kept twitching for a weapon, memories of armor too much like this tugging at her instincts.

“Nothing at all.” His smug confidence was strained. “Preparation before moving a vessel of this class can be taxing for the personnel.”

“Sure…” She did not bother to pretend to sound convinced.

Their small group managed to make it to what South assumed to be the upper decks as armor was traded for sleek, professional uniforms. Here the bustle thinned, enough so that South could overhear the hushed whispers of technicians as they passed.

“Is it a virus? I thought the firewalls...”

“The UNSC wouldn’t have…”

“We are not paid enough to deal with…”

“...cyberterrorism? At the very least its a huge security failure...”

Gears were turning in South’s mind, the situation beginning to take shape. She had stopped walking as the realization hit her. Hargrove and his body guards were just a few paces too far ahead to drag her along before the bulkhead doors closed, isolating her in a single section of the ship.

“South!” The tinny voice made her heart swell, tears pricking at her eyes in bittersweet relief. “You’re okay! I’m sorry I don’t know how I got caught – I, don’t be mad, I – I tried to...it was hard to get out but –”

“I’m just glad you’re okay T.” South grinned up at the security cameras in the corner of the ship segment. She was half-sure she could hear Hargrove raging and shouting orders on the other side of the bulkhead. The flutter of hope in her heart drifted back to quiet stillness. “I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on, but –”

“I can – they haven’t locked me out of the door controls yet, if you give me a few I can – we can get out and –”

“Theta,”

“I’m still working on getting into the – the main controls, but I can get you to the armory I think, and from there –”

“Theta listen.” South grimaced at the snap in her voice. “We can’t...leave.” The words were bitter to say aloud. Theta stuttered over the beat of silence that followed, his voice tinged with desperate denial.

“I – well I’m trying to fix that. I think I can –”

“Theta, what did North ask us to do?” She sucked in a breath, Theta’s silence thick and dull. North had become an anchor for them both, his code name a trigger to find focus.

“We’re supposed to take care of each other.” His voice was so soft despite the speakers it crackled from.

“Does it matter where?”

“I don’t – we can get out, South. Just, just give me a little bit more time.” South could hear the plasma cutters biting through durasteel on the other side of the bulkhead, fighting for direct access to the control panel.

“Theta, we are fucked – assuming we can get off this ship, what do we do on the ground?” She shook her head, her own frustration bleeding into her exasperation. “There’s miles without cover between this launch pad and the border of this – this is a Charon compound, Theta. You can hack a ship, but what can I do against a private army of these fuckers?” Her shoulders sagged. “I know it isn't fair but –”

“It’s not fair!” The anger, the childish indignant shriek of his voice reverberated through the small space, South wincing at the volume. He sounded painfully and desperately human in a way she had never heard him sound before. “It’s not – it’s not fair...I don’t want to – we’re supposed to…”

“We’re supposed to watch each other’s back. Best way we can do that now is by sticking together.” South kept her voice soft, words husky through the helmet’s filter. “I’m sorry, Theta. He...he had you before I realized it, and he threatened the Wu’s. Accepting his terms was the best I could think to do to get you back.”

“What are his terms?” Theta sounded so small, his voice fragile between sniffles.

“Why don’t you jump to me and we can learn more about them together, alright?”

“Together.” He affirmed, an undercurrent of determination returning to his voice. “Sync?”

“Sync.” South closed her eyes as the data stream washed over her mind, comfort in the familiar rush of information as she and her AI merged memories. Hargrove’s employment of Sam and Isaac. The Insurrectionist origin of the ship. The men at the apartment threatening the Wu’s. The Meta’s helmet.

The bulkheads opened with ease, dozens of rifles aimed where she stood.

She met Hargrove’s scowl with her own icy stare, Theta’s soft violet glow hovering over her shoulder.

“I fixed your ship’s security problem.” South kept her voice even, but her words rang coldly in the near silent hallway. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

— *crawls out of the woods covered in ticks and blood (not my own)* here’s to getting this fic done (probably not but I can be optimistic) before Restoration drops and rewrites canon. 

[aidenpriceless]

Greetings, anon. While it is not my business to speak about the Director's private life, I can see why Agent Florida would redirect you to my blog. As we have previously pointed out, we do not partake nor encourage in any relationship that might cause or fuel conflicts of interests, and this extends to everyone. It might also be worth noting that the Director and the Chairman have only communicated through correspondance, so it would be highly unlikely either way.

Do you think the Director and the Chairman kissed?

How could I possibly know? I wasn't there. Perhaps you should ask Aiden :)

Whether they actually did or not, I'm sure they made the right choice, and I'm cool with that.

[cinmngirlnfr]

Masterlist

Characters:

Edmund Pevensie

Billy Hargrove

Reese Wilkerson

Juan Borgia

Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter

Dr. House

Dr. Remy Hadley

Dr. Lisa Cuddy

Dr. Lawrence Kutner

Benedict Bridgerton

Finnick Oddair

Karen Sirko

Young Coriolanus Snow

Lucy Gray

Carl Gallagher

Luke Skywalker

Anakin Skywalker

Han Solo

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Leia Organa

Padme Amidala

Faramir

Aragorn

Arwen

Eowyn

Frodo

Pippin

Celebrities:

Nikki Sixx

Colby Brock

Roger Taylor

Izzy Stradlin

Jimmy Page

Billie Joe Amstrong

Suki Waterhouse

Emilia Mernes

Stevie Nicks

Sabrina Carpenter

Ships:

Everlarck (Peeta x Katniss)

Lucy Gray x Snow

Finnick x Annie

Hinny (Harry x Ginny)

Polin (Penelope x Colin)

Padme x Anakin

Han x Leia

[writethrough]

Can I just say I appreciate every single one of you that have liked and reblogged and commented on my fics?

I’m really in my feels right now, and I just need you all to know that.

Thank you so much for being so kind.💜

[aidenpriceless]

No one you should be concerned about, Agent Michigan.

An underrated helpful thought in times of loneliness is remembering that you are not currently interacting with the likes of Malcolm Hargrove and are thus valuing yourself.

[scribbleboxfox]

The Long Road Home has updated!

[LINK TO CHAPTER]

Fic info below the cut.

Chapters: 71/?

Fandom:Red vs. Blue

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Agent Carolina/Vanessa Kimball, Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons, Franklin Delano Donut/Frank “Doc” DuFresne, Katie Jensen/Charles Palomo, Siris / Megan, Lavernius Tucker/Agent Washington

Characters: Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Agent Carolina (Red vs. Blue), Dick Simmons, Sarge (Red vs. Blue), Franklin Delano Donut, Lopez (Red vs. Blue), Dexter Grif, Frank “Doc” DuFresne, Lavernius Tucker, Michael J. Caboose, All the other AI’s, Vanessa Kimball, Epsilon, Donald Doyle, John Elizabeth Andersmith, Katie Jensen, Antoine Bitters, Charles Palomo, Matthews, Emily Grey, Original Characters, Felix | Isaac Gates, Locus | Samuel Ortez, Siris | Mason Wu, Megan Wu, Four Seven Niner, Malcolm Hargove, Kaikaina Grif | Sister

Additional Tags: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dissociation, PTSD, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Panic Attacks, Frisbee Murder (don’t ask), Attempted Murder, Space Battles, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Platonic Slow-Burn, Mental Instability, Flashbacks, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Platonic Relationships, Russian Roulette, Creepy-Ass Villains, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Redemption, So Many Space Dads, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Torture, Found Family, i take the canon and i put it in a box, and then i put that box into another box, then i mail it to myself, and when it arrives, i SMASH IT WITH A HAMMER, Canon Divergence, post s13

Summary: With The Staff of Charon a smoking-yet-functional speck on the horizon, and the threat of an active weapons system on one of Chorus’ moons, the fight is far from over.  While Locus is no longer a threat, another one of Hargrove’s former lackeys waits for the Reds and Blues as they race to stop the weapons system from coming online. Does she really want to help them? Or is she hiding a more sinister motive? And why is she so interested in Locus?!

[nevada-got-screwed-over]

Taglist: @averagejoey2000

Original Inspiration / Masterpost

Chapter 17 / Chapter 19

Theta!South AU. I Guess.

Chapter: 18

Words: “fun fact: i am not dead” (2,083)

It was dark when South woke, a silent lament of her atrocious sleep schedule bit back as she tossed and turned for another hour. Fruitless in her endeavor for a few more moments of blissful sleep, she sat up and checked the clock. It was well past dinner time, and the ache in her gut confirmed that she was in desperate need of a real meal.

She kicked on her slippers, the warm and fuzzy rabbit-shaped ones Meg had gifted her the past winter and watched her reflection in the mirror for a moment. Moonlight was filtering through the blinds, diffusing a dim blue light throughout the room. After everything – the war, the Project, working for Recovery, hiding out, working with mercenaries – she looked…normal. A normal, tired woman with a terrible bedhead, wearing an oversized t-shirt and ratty pajama shorts.

Her hair hadn’t been this long…ever, if she thought about it. It was soft, the fading remnants of pale green hair dye tinging the split ends. She ought to dye it purple again – she missed that faint pink shade. Shaking herself from her nostalgia she stood and stretched.

“Evening T, put the coffee on if ya will.” She couldn’t stifle her yawn, sleepily opening her bedroom door. A heartbeat of silence was all she needed to hear to realize something was wrong. The clock on her nightstand glowed gently – there was still power, but the AI projector platforms in her room were dark and silent. She snatched a weapon from the underside of the nightstand and stepped out into the short hallway.

The kitchen glowed gold, the overhead light illuminating the linoleum and the old man at her kitchen table. He sat like a politician but wore a suit more at home in a UNSC control center. She had her weapon cocked and loaded, leveled at his head as she stalked forward, acutely aware of the person waiting just to her left in the den area. Their kick narrowly missed knocking her weapon from her hands, whiffing by her face.

She was not a morning person, as this idiot was about to find out. Without firing a single shot, she had him pinned by his throat against the wall, gun to his head as his bloody nose stained her carpet. Meg was going to have to show her that hydrogen peroxide trick again.

“Who are you? What do you want?” South glared daggers at the man still sitting at her table, his hands folded and eyes smiling despite his whimpering comrade struggling to breathe under her grip.

“I apologize for the intrusion, we – ”

“Cut the crap. Name and motive. Now.” She nudged the man’s head with the cold muzzle of her gun, his eyes frantically pleading with his superior.

“Malcom Hargrove.” She bristled, the name familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. “I’m not with the UNSC.” He gave a small shrug. “Anymore – retired, you see. But they wouldn’t doubt me for a second if I told them an MIA special ops soldier was living here.” He swilled the whiskey glass before him – he broke into her home and stole from her personal liquor cabinet – taking a slow sip without breaking eye contact.

“You haven’t told them. Why?” She tried to keep her gaze fixed on Hargrove, but she was searching her peripheral for any sign of Theta.

“You’re a well trained solider, Agent South Dakota. I may have found an appropriate…employment opportunity for you.” His eyes were bright with amusement as she seethed under his stare. “Release Mr. Jackson so we can discuss your options.”

South scoffed, tightening her grip and keeping her gun solidly pressed to his cheek. She wasn’t so naïve as to relinquish her leverage in the situation. She was the one with a gun on his man; they could be dead, and she could be on the run within moments. Hargrove didn’t seem to grasp this, shrugging at her display of stubbornness.

“Or…” The door to her apartment creaked open, two other well-dressed soldiers watching through dark sunglasses (ridiculous – it was well past sunset, and they were inside). South didn’t budge, grinding her teeth. “We could ask Mr. Wu to come in your stead. He’s a capable soldier, I hear.”

The man gasped and coughed when she released him, collapsing to the ground. South cracked her neck, closing her eyes and thinking for a moment.

She couldn’t fight all of these men. Not without casualties to the house or the Wu’s. Not without Theta. She opened her eyes with a sigh and sauntered to the counter, turning on the coffee maker. This was going to be a shitty morning.

“I’m glad we reached a bloodless resolution.”

“Talk to me before my coffee one more time and I’ll gut you like a fish.” The flat venom in her voice only elicited a dry laugh. The man she had dropped shot her a glare as he exited her apartment, black bruise around his throat and bloody nose hardly matching his threatening glare. The two other bodyguards entered her apartment, closing the door softly and standing sentinel.

South didn’t need to feign complacency – these men knew well what she was capable of – so she prepared her coffee with the same mechanical precision she used to clean her pistol. She missed Theta’s sleepy morning voice (AI didn’t sleep; he used that voice for his own amusement). The dark projection platform on the counter made her blood boil.

“Options. Besides killing you first chance I get.” She sat across from Hargrove, a glare daring the guards to walk behind her and corner her. They didn’t.

“That itself is an option. The first strategic chance you’ll have is months away at best. In the meantime, I’ll simply employ Wu’s assistance in your stead, maybe even ask him to help take down an old coworker who’s gone rogue.” His smile didn’t show any teeth. “Not an option I would advise.”

South stirred sugar into her coffee, not breaking eye contact and keeping her expression blank. If she couldn’t escape his monologuing, then she would give him no satisfaction in a reaction.

“There are two options I can personally see to, and I’m certain you will prefer one to the other. The first is one you’re probably quite aware of: I can report you to the UNSC and they will apprehend you. I personally oversaw Agent Washington’s admittance to the UNSC Maximum Security Prison, and I would do the same for you.

Although the UNSC might want to publicize  your arrest in this case. It will certainly cause a buzz in every UNSC installation in the galaxy, keep the other black ops programs on their toes. I can see it now – ‘MIA defector from a black ops program found working at local smithing factory’ – front page news, possibly even national.” His predatory eyes tracked her face and South was dimly aware of the anger creeping into her features. “What would your mother think?”

She breathed slowly, taking a measured sip from her mug of coffee even though it burned her throat. He was tipping his hand, and damn if he didn’t have good cards. Washington was alive – or at the very least, he survived whatever his plans with the Meta were. Hargrove knew her personal life – past and present – far too intimately for comfort.

He was trying to provoke her. It was certainly working.

“The second option – the mutually beneficial option – is quite simple.” His tone indicated it would not, in fact, be simple. “I am involved in a…recovery business.” The gears in her mind began to turn, pieces clicking into place. “You’re particularly familiar with this work, according to my sources – ”

“You.” The accusatory growl slipped from her lips before she could reel in her rage. “You hired Isaac and Sam.” Hargrove was unfazed by her angry outburst, as if he had expected it.

“Ah, yes, Felix and Locus are…quite effective. And I must say their work would be bettered balanced with a third party such as yourself to…keep them focused.” Hargrove laughed from his chest, a smile exposing the chipped edges of too-white teeth. “It would certainly save me some money and headaches.”

The anger bubbling in her chest threatened to explode, her hand blindly groping for the pistol hidden under the table out of pure instinct. The holster was empty, of course. He had probably swept the whole of her apartment save for her bedroom for weapons while she was asleep. Hargrove acknowledged her intense stare and clenched jaw with aloof annoyance.

“I was well aware of your presence and activities before I hired them. They’re good at what they do because they keep their mouths shut – if they had let anything about you slip, they wouldn’t be worth their paychecks.”

“I told them – ”

“Yes, yes – no recovery work. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Even though this meeting proved he certainly intended to do so. “I’m sure you’re not in want of more misadventures in that kind of business. This opportunity wouldn’t have you in the field at any capacity, ideally.” South’s suspicion grew, but her irrational and instinctive terror ebbed. She would rather be court martialed than work in recovery again. Hargrove took a swig from his glass of whiskey, the ice melted enough to keep it full.

“You see I…acquired some technology after your project was shut down. I was in correspondence with the Director prior to the end of the war, when I worked with the UNSC. Something of an oversight council instated after the…Charon incident we called it. As a result, after his death and the official closure of the project, I have quite a lot of experimental technology with very, very scant records.” Hargrove sighed, some semblance of disappointment in his tone. “I understand his discretion, but I’ll admit, I’m at a loss with what few corrupt files we were able to salvage.”

“Sounds like a job to contract out to the UNSC.” It was a small consolation that the Director was dead. That was one devil she knew that she would trade for one she didn’t in a heartbeat. Still, she didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Normally, I would agree, however, I’m in a unique position to profit from understanding this technology. I would rather not hand my potential customers a live bomb and tell them to figure it out.” His tight lipped smile grew as South’s suspicious glare softened. Her time with the mercenaries made her intimately familiar with greed and the people who made it their poison of choice.  

“So, you need me to be your bomb dog.” It wasn’t a question, but South still hoped he would contradict her with a different proposition. Hargrove’s shrug did not inspire confidence in that outcome.

“More or less – you likely have had up close and personal experience with much of the technology we’ve recovered. Between you and some greenhorn UNSC petty officer, I wouldn’t bet on him keeping his limbs intact.”

She cracked her knuckles, fidgeting as her coffee grew cold on the table. Theta would know what to do. Theta.

“Where is he?”

“Pardon?”

“You know what I’m talking about. What did you do with him?”

“Ah, that?” The old man seemed genuinely surprised by her inquiry. “The AI we recovered here? It’s in a storage unit, somewhere safe.” There was a glimmer in his eyes, sharp and hungry. “I can tell that you care for it. Given that the project’s property falls under my jurisdiction, I may be inclined to keep an asset such as that from gathering dust on a UNSC warehouse shelf.”

South had just handed him leverage on a silver platter, but she wasn’t quite sure that she cared. As long as he was alright. As long as they stayed together. As long as they could take care of each other.

“I want him back.” She swallowed the last of her cold coffee, bitter on her tongue. “We’re a team; do that and I’ll walk over whatever mines you find.” Now Hargrove truly smiled, white teeth against chapped lips.

“I’m glad we reached an understanding.” He held out a hand across the table. “And an agreement.” South shook his hand firmly but didn’t release him as he tried to pull away.

“And don’t fuck with the Wus.” She tossed his hand away, her own teeth bared as he bellowed a laugh, eyes wrinkled by his smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, South.”

--- Hopefully we’ll be back on a more regular schedule this summer starting in June...

[theaawalker]

Fandoms I'll Write For

Marvel (not Iron Man, Starlord, Loki, Thor, Doctor Strange, or Hawkeye, Drax, Victor Creed, Antman, Adam Warlocke, AG's Spiderman, or Cyclops)

DCEU (not Peacemaker, Killer Croc, JL's Joker, RP's Batman, or anyone from Gotham except Jerome/Jeremiah Valeska)

Scream Queens (not Chad Radwell or Pete Martinez)

American Horror Story (only Murder House, 1984, Freakshow, and Cult)

Hunger Games (not Gale, Maymitch, President Snow, or Cato)

The Maze Runner (not Ava Paige, Jorge, or Janson)

My Little Pony

Once Upon A Time (not Hook, David, Rumple, Neal, Peter Pan, or Zelena)

Pacific Rim (not the sequel)

Twilight (not Seth, Edward, Carlyle, or Jasper)

Stranger Things (not Will Byers, Billy Hargrove, or Jim Hopper)

IT (2017, 2019, and tv series) (not Henry Bowers or Pennywise)

Jurassic Park/World (not Owen Grady or Ian Malcolm)

Jumanji (1997 & 2017)

Zathura (not the dad or robot)

Stand By Me (not Ace Merrill)

Girl, Interrupted (not Jared Leto's character)

The Black Phone (not the Grabber or Mr. Blake)

Teen Wolf (the film & series)

Equestria Girls

Teen Wolf (not Peter, Jackson, Theo, or Derek)

The Office (not Jim, Ryan, or Dwight)

Now You See Me (not Dylan Rhodes or Merritt McKinney)

Descendants (not Chad, Harry, Ben, Jay, or Carlos)

Sky High (not Zach or Speed)

Percy Jackson films (not Luke Castellan)

The Umbrella Academy (not Five)

TMNT (live action ver. only)

Dance Moms (not the final season)

Ender's Game

Wednesday (not Xavier, Tyler, or the Dean)

Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse (not Mentor Peter Parker)

Unbreakable (not Hedwig or Dennis)

Big Hero 6

The Black Mirror

Dynasty (not Culhane, Adam, or Blake)

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Spy Kids

Sharkboy & Lavagirl

Clue, Knives Out, & Glass Onion

Back to the Future (not Biff), Breakfast Club (not Bender), Sandlot, Stand By Me (not Ace Merrill), Mighty Ducks, The Outsiders (not Dally, Two-Bit, Randy, Bob, Steve, or Darry)

I’m willing to write imagines for underage characters so long as there's no romance (examples: hang out with the Losers Club at the barrens; go shopping with Eleven and Max; play baseball with Finney and Bruce). I’m allowed to deny any request and the longest I should take ever to write one is about 2 weeks. I’ll write smut, fluff, angst, poly relationships, LGBTQ+, etc. Generally most of my x readers are female unless stated otherwise.

What I won’t write-

I won’t write anything to do with rape, bestiality, necrophilia, incest, romance with anyone younger than 18, gun play, anything about poo(sexually), anything about urine(squirting is fine considering it’s not technically urine), age gaps. See guidelines for more details.

Thanks for reading❤️

A.A. Walker

[writethrough]

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[masturshake]

Does anyone remember that one Yorkalina story/fanfic where Wash hid that that York was actually alive from everyone and that him and Carolina actually ended up having a kid that was taken away from her by Malcolm Hargrove The Chairman? It was a pretty long story and had a few sequels to it I believe!

[gorboble]

alright guys

vote

[aidenpriceless]

Hey there, Montana here. Been tempted to make one of these blogs to stay in touch and post my thoughts. Is that a good idea?

Greetings, Agent Montana. Making a tumblr account would be very useful for networking purposes, and I encourage you to do so. However, you might want to be mindful of a few factors:

Do not discuss details of your missions in any fashion. That is classified information.

Similarly, you might want to manually check if any questions in your inbox violate our Trick Question Policy.

Do not feed the trolls, and that includes any asks sent on behalf of Malcolm Hargrove regarding AI discourse.

Do not post pictures of your Special Operations Fursuit. I understand why you would want to share such a magnificent display of artistry, but the average tumblr user is crafty and unpredictable. If any of them were to be somehow able to replicate it, we would encounter serious legal trouble.

Just like other agents, you will be personally be held responsible for any acts of vandalization of the Director's official kinlist and kinklist in the carrd linked in his bio.

Please do face reveals sparingly in order not upset followers who had a different facecanon for you.

Reach out to me before listing triggers, mental illnesses, Hogwarts houses, MBTI types, traumas, zodiac signs, dni, and other compliment fishing paraphernalia in your bio so that I can efficiently help expanding that list for more accuracy.

And last but not least, remember to have fun :)

[writethrough]

If you do this to any of my fics, I would love you forever.😍😍

[writethrough]

Writing the longest fic I've ever done and it's for a new character! Check the post below if you wanna know about any of my WIP!