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seasonschange-butpeopledont · 4 years ago

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Everyday Heroes

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Warnings: A few curse words, an explosion, implied injury, depressed reader, minor character death, grief, and a bit of pining

Word Count: 3,364

Author’s Note: This got out of hand and apparently I only know how to write hopeless pining. Do we agree that Marcus gives off Clark Kent vibes or am I alone in this?

Summary: The three times you discovered Marcus Moreno was a hero.

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When you’d left the house that morning, the heels you wore had seemed like a great idea.

You were headed in for your first day at your new job and you wanted to make a good impression by wearing what you perceived to be your most professional outfit. You’d made it to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment with minimal difficulty, though you were certain to have blisters on your feet by the end of the day. Thankfully, your receptionist position meant that you would spend the majority of your day more or less chained to the front desk, answering phones, taking messages, scheduling appointments, and greeting visitors.

You didn’t know much about Vil-Tech. You’d googled them before your first interview, of course- you weren’t a total idiot and you’d never dare show up unprepared, especially when you needed this job so badly- but your search had yielded only a few results. Most of what you’d found had been articles from the newspaper. The researchers at the lab had, apparently, recently had some success in clean energy technology. Protons, neutrons, particle accelerators, electromagnetic fields… You knew nothing about it, really, but it sounded impressive. And clean energy had to be good, right? When they’d hired you, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that you knew next to nothing about the company itself. They were only looking for a receptionist, after all, not a scientist. If they’d wanted you to know exactly what was going on in the floors above you, you were sure that they would have let you know.

With your coffee in hand, you made your way towards the Vil-Tech building. All in all, it seemed like the universe was on your side this morning. You’d woken up early enough to make yourself look decent. Your favorite barista had made your coffee just the way you liked it, and it even looked like you would be early for work.

And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion.

The upper half of your body was already moving forward, even as the heel of your shoe remained firmly wedged in the sidewalk crack. You felt the coffee sloshing around in the stainless steel travel mug in your hands, threatening to douse your crisp white blouse in the steaming beverage. You blindly threw your hand out in front of you, bracing yourself to hit the concrete and thinking to yourself that this was just one of those days when this might as well happen.

But the harsh impact you’d prepared yourself for never came.

It had taken you a moment to process that someone had caught you. Someone with impeccable reflexes, it seemed, as not only had they rescued you from taking a humiliating fall in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but they also managed to save your coffee without spilling a drop. To say that you were impressed by the feat was an understatement.

But when you looked up at your savior, you were damn near speechless.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his dark eyes finding yours from beneath his black-framed glasses. And, other than the approximately thirty-seven heart attacks you’d had in the span of 2.5 seconds only moments before, you found yourself nodding in confirmation.

“I’m fine. I… Thank you,” You breathed out, a warm, tingly feeling spreading out from your chest and right down to your toes. Gods, he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, and wore a leather jacket with his slacks and tie, a combination you’d never quite seen before, but decided suited him quite well.

“Are you sure? You look a little dizzy,” He noted. His arm was still around your waist, and you were grateful for it, because you didn’t quite trust the integrity of your knees at the moment.

After a few moments, which had exceeded the socially acceptable amount of time to moon over a stranger while clutching their remarkably toned biceps for dear life by a long-shot, your brain finally seemed to catch up to the rest of you, and promptly flooded your thoughts with embarrassment. You released your death-grip on his arms immediately, trying to maintain your dignity as you yanked your heel from the concrete crevice in a distinctly unladylike manor. All the while, the handsome stranger remained right there, dutifully holding your coffee and trying his best to hide the amusement in his eyes with a polite smile.

Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your outfit, you nodded at him once again. “I’m fine,” You said in what you hoped was your most composed voice. He promptly handed you your coffee, and you swore you felt electricity when his fingers brushed against yours.

“Glad to hear it,” He remarked, “That would have been a nasty fall.”

“Nice save, Clark,” You joked, attempting your most charming smile. Were you flirting? Could you even consider this flirting?

“Clark?” He repeated, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You know, Clark Kent… with the glasses and... lightning-fast reflexes… saving me from an incredibly embarrassing moment?” You explained weakly. It wasn’t as if you’d never spoken to an attractive man before, but it seemed that the universe was decidedly not on your side this morning after all.

“Superman?” Another smile found its way to his face. He seemed flattered by your comment. “My daughter loves those comics.” At the mention of his daughter, your eyes quickly darted down to his left hand. There was no wedding ring there, but it was clear that there had been one there in the past.

“Well, your daughter has excellent taste. And we could all use a few more heroes in our lives, right?” You sighed wistfully, before adding, “Thank you, by the way.”

“It was no big deal,” He assured you. “I’m always happy to help a pretty lady in need.”

You laughed quietly at the last part, finding the cheesiness of it adorable. You weren’t quite sure why you were still lingering on the street corner, except that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to walk away just yet. He seemed equally as reluctant to part from you, both of you grinning shyly at one another as you soaked in the meet-cute moment. Right up until his eyes fell to the ID badge clipped to your bag, that is.

“Is that a Vil-Tech badge?”

There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you couldn’t quite assign a cause for. It wasn’t the question you were expecting. You’d expected him to ask your name, or maybe offer you his, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head by now, so you humored him.

“Yep,” You confirmed. “It's my first day. I’m just a receptionist, though…”

He nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. What was it about Vil-Tech that seemed to bother him so much?

“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for work,” He said finally, nodding in the direction you had just come from. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes staring into yours as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Good luck on your first day, and… Look after yourself, okay? Vil-Tech might not be what you think it is.”

And with that, he brushed past you, seemingly in quite a hurry as he disappeared into the crowd and left you standing there, disappointment sinking deep into your bones.

You didn’t even get his name.

***

You didn’t see him again for a month.

Not that you often thought about him or his dreamy eyes and ridiculously charming smile or his strong arms around your waist. And definitely not that you sometimes idly wondered where he was and how his day was going while you were grocery shopping or stuck at the laundromat.

Okay, maybe you did.

Maybe you went to that same coffee shop every week day, hoping that you might bump into him again.

And maybe you sometimes imagined those eyes staring into yours and arms around you in situations where you weren’t making a complete fool of yourself.

You felt silly for being that girl. The one who falls hopelessly in love with strangers you pass on the streets, with anyone who thinks that anyone who so much as holds the door open for you could be your true love. You were a grown up, for goodness sake. You weren’t supposed to believe in that kind of thing anymore.

But it was those ridiculous daydreams you found yourself caught up in when a team of Heroics stormed into Vil-Tech on a Tuesday afternoon.

“I apologize, sir, but Dr. Pershing is out of the office today…” You sighed, listening to the supplier ramble on and on about the importance of Dr. Pershing returning his call. You had already scribbled the message down, along with his name and phone number. “Yes, I’ll be sure to give him the message.” It was difficult to hide the exasperation in your tone.

“That’s what you said the last time,” The man snapped. “Pershing didn’t return my calls for a week. I don’t know why they can’t hire someone who knows how to take a message properly. God knows they’ve got the money for it.”

You tapped the tip of your pen against the notepad on your desk, feeling a lump beginning to form in your throat. “I apologize, Mr. Wells. I’ll make sure that Dr. Pershing gets your message as soon as he returns.”

“You’d better,” He grumbled, before the line went dead.

You let out a slow breath, easing yourself back from the edge of tears. It had been like this all morning. The scientists in the building were off at a conference for the week, leaving you behind to copy down messages and field angry phone calls.

Stan, the elderly security guard, if you could call him that, offered you a sympathetic smile from his post by the door. You returned it weakly.

Closing your eyes, you tried to think of something else. Brown eyes, charming smile, strong arms. You repeated it like a mantra. Electricity. The feeling of safety. That warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach, and a rush of calm.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Stan staring slack-jawed as the Heroics sprinted into the building, announcing to you, Stan, and the maintenance staff that you all needed to clear the building immediately. They offered no explanation for their frantic demands, but when a guy in spandex and a cape tells you to go, you go. You were sure that, whatever it was, you’d be able to catch the reason for the strange event on the news later that evening. You’d watched them destroy city hall enough times from the comfort of your living room to be sure that you wanted out of this building as soon as possible.

But, given that this was your first call-the-Heroics-level emergency, it seems that your idea of immediacy was a bit different from theirs. In the time that it had taken you to grab your jacket, shove your laptop in your purse, and sling the bag over your shoulder, you had already been tackled to the ground by some idiot in a tactical vest.

You don’t remember much about the explosion.

You’d later learn that Vil-Tech Labs dealt in more than just technological innovation. The research they’d been conducting while locked away in the uppermost floors of the building, all of that gibberish involving the off-site particle accelerator you’d read about, was both sinister and invaluable. Rather than letting the Heroics get their hands on their files to uncover their plans and stop them from being set in motion, they’d decided to set off an explosion in their own goddamn building. And thanks to that ‘idiot in a tactical vest’, you were one of the only survivors.

But in the meantime, while you were lying on your back in the middle of the lobby feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you were clueless about the nefarious action of the company you’d spent the last month working for. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the pain in your head from where you’d smacked it against the tile flooring, and the weight of the fully grown man on top of you that was currently restricting your breathing.

You must have hit your head even harder than you thought, because there was no way in hell the man who’d been starring in all of your daydreams for months was here, now, on top of you, with katanas strapped to his back. You refused to accept that as a reality. Would he even remember you? Why would he? Apparently, the man you’d developed a stupid little crush on was a superhero. He probably helped people all of the time and you were just another-

“What the fuck?” You finally hissed, gasping for air. The air was smokey and it stung your eyes and nose when you inhaled.

His breathing hitched slightly when you looked up at him, the look of fear clear on your face. “You okay?” He asked, still hovering above you as he pushed himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid the shattered glass that now seemed to cover every flat surface in sight.

“I’m… reasonably certain I’m not dead,” You replied, an edge of panic in your voice, which was a bit shakier than you would have liked. “What’s happening? I don’t- I don’t understand- Where is Stan-” You coughed, your lungs burning.

You idly wondered how long you had before the building started to collapse, its structural integrity surely compromised by the explosion. Of all the ways you could die, being buried alive was up there with the ones you dreaded the most. Your growing panic must have been obvious.

“Hey, calm down,” He reassured you. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.”

The room was still spinning when you felt yourself being scooped up into his arms, the edges of your vision growing more and more fuzzy with each breath you took.

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Clark” You murmured. You swear you feel, rather than hear, a laugh rumble in his chest just before the world goes dark. Maybe he did remember you after all.

***

It’s only a little more than a week later, long after you’ve woken up in the hospital and been discharged, that you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street. It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re staring blankly into your vanilla latte.

You aren’t sure why you’re up so early. The doctors had ordered you to take it easy, and it’s not like you had a job to go to anymore. You could have slept in, made your own coffee at home, and stayed curled up on your couch watching Netflix and hiding from the rest of the world like you had been for the past week. You felt horrible that you’d been associated with a place like Vil-Tech. You should have known that something was off about the place, but you’d never realized it, never bothered to look into anything when things seemed off. You felt so stupid for it now. Were you just as bad as the rest of them? Sure, all you’d done was answer phones for them, but…

Stan, your only friend at Vil-Tech, the kind man who had shared half of his sandwich at lunch with you more times than you could count and always had a smile for you when he greeted you in the mornings, had never made it out of the building. You supposed that you should consider yourself lucky that the Heroics had saved you, but the loss of your friend and the knowledge that Vil-Tech was certainly not what you thought it was, had shaken you.

You’d felt different when you woke up this morning. Like, maybe, leaving your apartment and getting some fresh air wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Your favorite barista had smiled sympathetically when you walked through the doors. You must have looked as bad as you felt. Considering you hadn’t showered since you’d gotten home from the hospital, you were sure that you were quite a sight.

“Good morning!” She greeted, mustering up her cheeriest demeanor for you. “The usual, right?”

You nodded, not quite making eye contact as you handed her your card to pay. She quickly waved you off.

“It’s on the house today, hon. And I insist that you take this chocolate chip muffin. I’ll make you feel better.”

Your heart ached at her kindness, the act almost forcing tears in your eyes once again. That was the thing that you realized over the past few days. The Heroics were great, but there were plenty of everyday heroes out there as well. Sometimes it was Ashely the Barista, who scribbles a smiley face and a compliment on your cup on the mornings that seem particularly rough. Sometimes it was Stan the Security Guard, who offers to teach you sudoku on your lunch breaks. And sometimes it was a stranger you passed on the street, who catches you when you fall.

You sat down at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, your vanilla latte and chocolate chip muffin sat out in front of you, untouched for the moment. You didn’t usually sit down to have your coffee, but you had nowhere to be today, and you were finding that you appreciated not being alone for a while.

You heard the bells above the door jingle, signaling that a new customer had entered the shop. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and a familiar leather jacket walking towards the barista to place his order. You listened closely as he gave his name for his order, though you’d heard it plenty of times on the news this week. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time in over a week.

Marcus Moreno, your own personal Superman.

You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was undeniably strange to see the man who had saved you not once, but twice, doing something as mundane as making his morning coffee run. After he paid, he turned towards the groupings of tables and chairs, searching for a place to sit while he waited for his drink to be ready. When his eyes landed on you, you raised your hand in a small wave. You were nervous about how he’d react to seeing you here. You had no doubt that he recognized you this time.

You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a real-life superhero again after they had saved your life. Were you supposed to pretend not to know each other? Should you have paid for his coffee? Did you make a public declaration to name your first born child after him?

To your surprise, he simply smiled back at you with the most heart-stopping, breathtaking smile you’d ever seen in your life, and returned your wave. It was as simple as that, you thought. Marcus Moreno, the superhero with katanas at this back and a team of Heroics at his side, the closest thing to Superman you’d ever met, was impressive. But Marcus Moreno, the helpful man with a kind, beautiful smile and warm, friendly eyes, whose mere existence had never failed to cheer you up? He was magnificent. An everyday hero, indeed.

He made this way through the crowd and over to your table, gesturing to the seat across from you as if to ask for your permission to sit down. You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. The same way you’d felt when you saw him for the first time. The same feeling that you’d been dreaming about for months.

Hope, you realized.

“Hi,” He greeted. “I, uh, I never caught your name. I’m Marcus Moreno.”

As you gave him your name, you decided that maybe you could start by just saying thank you.

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest

Marcus Moreno Taglist: @xjaywritesx

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you

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jadekitty777 · 4 years ago

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Baker’s Dozen, Part 1

Oh my god we are at the home stretch and I am still amazed I managed to do all eight days. This is a two-parter, so the second chapter will be up tomorrow.

Day 7: First Morning @taiqrowweek

Rating: K

Words: 6,000

Summary: When a desperate escape from fans leaves Qrow seeking shelter in a nearby restaurant, he expects little of the rundown, failing business that offers him a table. One bite is all it takes to change his mind. [Actor and Chef AU]

Ao3 Link: Baker’s Dozen

Early Saturday afternoon found downtown L.A. bustling with traffic on the sidewalks and the road. Qrow found himself in the heart of Pershing Square, lying on the grass and enjoying the midday sun beaming down on him, wondering why he didn’t do this more often.

“Oh my god! Qrow Branwen?!”

His eyes shot open, seeing a small gaggle of women hurrying his way as every head within earshot turned to look right at him.

Oh right.

That was why.

He shot to his feet, yelling over his shoulder as he sprinted away, “Sorry! No autographs today!”

He thanked whatever gods might be out there that his last role forced him to stay in excellent shape, because he was easily able to outdistance his pursuers. Unfortunately, as he skirted around the foot traffic, their yells only seemed to be attracting more attention his way. He ever spotted one desperate teenager pulling a phone from her purse.

He was about to be all over Instagram, wasn’t he?

Knowing this called for every actor’s Superman disguise, Qrow pulled his sunglasses from his pocket, shoving them onto his face as he took the first alleyway he could find. Coming out on the other side, he slowed his pace to a fast walk, lowering his head to avoid further detection and slipped into the doorway of one of the businesses a few doors down before the other crowd could catch up.

He sighed, grateful for the dark atmosphere inside the building as he pulled out his phone. Alright, time to call his driver and get out of dodge.

“Table for one?” The question had him jerking around, seeing a young woman in a cowboy getup smiling his way from a little podium. Her golden hair was particularly eye catching, long and untamed in a way that reminded him of his twin sister’s. Her name tag, which was in the shape of a star, read ‘Yang’.

He took in the environment around her, noticing the array of booths and tables that made up the majority of the room, and realized he’d ducked right into a restaurant. “Uh, no sorry I uh-” He started to say, only to trail off as he actually considered it. Why the hell not? It wasn’t like he’d eaten, and it would take his driver about the same time to get there when having to slog through the weekend traffic. “I mean, yeah, just me. Can I get a booth as isolated as possible?”

“You got it!” Yang agreed, picking up one of the menus and leading him to a booth in the back. He couldn’t help but notice she even had spurs on her boots that clanked when she walked. The walls were decorated with a similar Texan flair, bull horns and deer antlers interspaced with paintings of farm homes and woodland creatures and metal lone stars. How quaint.

Despite the aesthetics though, it was obvious from the minute he sat down and the bench creaked loudly, that upkeep wasn’t a priority. Or, he reassessed as he took note of the lack of patrons despite it being the lunch hour, it probably just wasn’t in the budget. That probably wasn’t a promising sign on the quality for his upcoming meal.

“Ruby will be with you soon.” Yang said, setting the menu before him. The cover had the name ‘The Dragon’s Den’ proudly printed across it. Wait, that wasn’t southern. Did he somehow run all the way to Chinatown instead?

“Uh, thanks.” He flipped the menu, but with the lighting so low, he couldn’t read the finer script. He pulled off his sunglasses, setting them on the table before looking through his options. Despite the slightly confused name, everything within seemed pretty par for the course; roast beef, fried chicken, catfish, and a large array of barbequed meats that any Tramp off the street would gladly steal for his Lady.

“Howdy there, can I get you started w- Oh my god!”

Ah, shit.

He looked up, seeing yet another starstruck gaze aimed at him by a petite girl in a similar get up to the hostess but was a few years younger – was she even old enough to work here?

He held up his hand in a desperate attempt to ward off any screaming. “Kid, I swear to give you the best tip of your life if you keep quiet.”

His waitress pressed her notepad against her mouth, a muffled squeak escaping around it. After a moment, she took a breath, then lowered the notepad slightly to reveal a sly smile. “I’ll make sure Yang seats any customers far away from you if you promise me an autograph and a picture too.”

He snorted. What a devious little brat! He could appreciate that. “Deal.”

“Hehe, yes!” She gave a little hop before quickly composing herself, placing her pen to the page. “Alright stranger that I’ve never met and do not know the name of, what would you like to drink?”

“Don’t oversell it kid. And water’s fine.”

“Coming right up!” She scurried away. He watched her detour towards the front, dragging the blond woman to the back where they disappeared behind a set of swinging double doors.

He counted down from five in his head.

“EEEEEEEEEEEE!” Came two screams from the kitchen.

Right on cue.

“OUT! BOTH OF YOU, OUT!!” Was the next shout he heard, the tone definitely masculine.

Yang came back out first, her gaze lingering his way before she hurried away, giggling all the while. Ruby was next, setting a glass of water on his table along with a straw.

“Your drink, mon-sir.”

He laughed. “Did you mean monsieur?”

“Yeah, that one!” She giggled good-naturedly. Despite the fact she was an obvious fangirl, he found himself taking a liking to her.

“Heard a bit of yelling back there.” He gestured towards the doorway.

“Yeah, dad just thinks we’re being dumb. He doesn’t believe you’re out here.”

Dad? Well, that might explain why it seemed this rustic establishment was getting away with breaking child labor laws. “Eh, it’s probably better that way anyways.” Kids were cute; but adults fawning over him was always a little weird, especially if they were around his age.

“He wouldn’t know how to appreciate the moment anyways.” Ruby clacked her heels together, spurs chiming when she did. “So were you ready to order or did you want a few minutes?”

He glanced down towards the menu. He wasn’t really used to food like this. Growing up, his dad would favor getting the rice cooker going rather than tend to the BBQ gathering dust outside. As for now, his career tended to call for strict dietery needs depending on what shape he needed to be in for each role – none of which ever called for anything steeped so heavily in grease and fat. “Any suggestions?”

“Ooo,” She tapped her chin with her pen thoughtfully. “Well dad just took out the kolaches a half hour ago, so those are extra good right now.”

The question was out of his mouth before he could think to fake it, “What’s a kolach?”

“Oh, it’s a Texas thing. Basically, it’s a pasty with filling. Today’s strawberry, which is my favorite.”

“Trying to sell me dessert before the main course?”

“Well yeah! That’s like the highlight of being an adult, right? When I move out, that’s how I’m gonna do it.” Ruby said proudly. “But if you want to be all traditional about it, then by far dad’s best dish is the country-fried steak.”

He knew what that dish was at least. Steak fried in batter and slathered in gravy. It sounded like a heart attack on a plate. He closed the menu decisively, handing it to her. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Great!” She quickly wrote it down.

As the girl hurried over to go place his order, Qrow took the opportunity to look up the address and text it to An. ‘Pick me up in forty-five?’

‘Certainly sir.’ She replied.

He had just switched back to his browser, when Ruby came back, setting a small plate in front of him. The Kolach was about the size of a cookie, with a breading cooked to a nice golden brown and the bright red strawberry filling dusted over with powdered sugar.

“Here you go! The best dessert you’ll ever have.” She proclaimed.

It certainly looked good, but it wouldn’t have anything on his mother’s Ichigo Daifuku. “Maybe second greatest kiddo.”

Ruby looked about ready to defend her dessert’s honor when a call of ‘waiter’ had her drawing back. “Um, gotta go. Enjoy!”

Picking up the pastry, Qrow turned his attention back to his phone. He eyed the 2.9 rating the restaurant had on Yelp, his stomach turning with trepidation as he took his first bite. The outer crust had a nice crunch but the inner dough was fluffy and light, with a hint of butter. The sweetness also hit with less punch than he was expecting, the strawberry standing mostly on its own with only the sugar on top adding to it. Just the way he liked it.

He was right, it didn’t out beat the Daifuku… but it was pretty close.

As he polished it off, he pulled up the reviews, scanning through them.

‘Great food but the decor is just awful. Pretty sure the place hasn’t had an upgrade since the 70s.’

‘Nice staff but everyone looks like they should be operating out of a western drama.’

‘Terrible! The kid waiting on me didn’t even look fifteen. She was super clumsy too. Dropped a whole cup of BBQ right on my sweater. When I demanded to speak to the owner about it, the hostess gave me attitude about how he was too busy and called ME a blowhard! What a circus show! Never coming back!’

‘The food’s amazing, but the wait times are ridiculous. Forty-five minutes for a rack of ribs? Is there only one cook back there?’

And on they went. Complaints about the location, the confusing name, more on wait time and the staff. But, beyond a few issues on the food arriving too cold, there was nothing but stellar compliments for the taste. He lent back in his seat, hearing it give another dying groan. He watched Yang sit another table of five while Ruby bustled about to get their drinks. Eyed his crumb-dusted plate, realizing the treat was probably offered to him because someone hungry was more likely to notice the wait for the main course. What a sad state. Apparently great food but poor management and lack of funds to fix anything. The place probably wasn’t going to last another year.

Ruby was all smiles when she came back to him, clearing his dish. “So, did you like it?”

“It was excellent, just like you promised.” Qrow told her honestly. For a split second, he almost let that be the end of it all. To just have his meal and leave, forgetting all about the reviews that foreshadowed the Dragon Den’s closure and the innocent kid whose family would be facing thousands of dollars in debt.

Instead he found himself strangely invested. Perhaps it was just human curiosity or pure boredom, but whatever it was, something made him lean forward, cross his arms over the table and ask, “So Ruby, you said your dad’s the one cooking, but who runs the place?”

“He does.”

He arched a brow. “He’s the owner and the chef? And he makes his kids work here?”

She shifted on her feet. “Uh well, I only help out on weekends and maybe a weekday here or there when dad really needs me. Yang’s got it real bad tho. She has to rush from her classes at Cal State to here five times a week.”

As the suspicion niggled at the back of his mind, he almost asked, but figured the deliberate omission about the whereabouts of their mother was all the answer he needed.

“There’s no other waiters?” He asked instead.

“No, we’ve got a few part timers, just not enough for a full day. Dad keeps saying when business picks back up he’ll hire a few more and a new chef too but,” Ruby averted her gaze. “That was a year ago.”

“What happened?” He pressed.

She shook her head. “We kept losing staff and now I just think he’s too busy. He sometimes doesn’t even come home. He’ll just sleep at one of the tables and then be up for the next day.”

“He’s here every day? From open to close?”

“Yeah.”

He whistled low between his teeth, placing his palm under his chin. He’d had some rough shoots over the years, but at least he had the solace of taking breaks. “Wow. That’s awful. And I bet a teenager like you hates having to work when you’d rather be at home playing video games.”

“Oh, no. I don’t mind.” Ruby refuted, before amending shortly after, “Uh well, most times, at least. Jerky customers kind of ruin my day. But otherwise, it’s okay.”

He had a feeling it was anything but. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yeah. I mean, when we first moved here, this place was dad’s dream.” She waved vaguely in the air as if to encompass the little establishment. “He always loved making people happy by cooking for them. Even when I was a kid he’d tell me that the gift of a good meal is the smile on someone’s face when they eat it.” She faced him, resolute and steady. “I know it’s important to him, so if I can help him keep this place by working here every now and again, then that’s just what I’ll do.”

He studied her carefully, but nothing he could see seemed imply she was lying in any way. It was a value he could certainly respect, as he and his sister had grown up being told the importance of caring for and respecting their elders. But living in America taught him that not all families operated this way. It was surprising, but uplifting, to see it here. “That’s rather admirable of you.”

Before they could say more, a hiss of ‘Ruby!’ drew her up short, and then Yang was sidling over, an impressive stack of plates balanced precariously along her left arm. “Table 3 needs their check before they bounce on us.”

“Oh right.” She paused, just long enough to place the pastry dish on top of her sister’s already full load with an overly sweet smile.

Once his waitress had left, Qrow said, “Guess I’m distracting her.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. You can distract half the nation.” Yang replied. “Must be awful, never having enough privacy.”

He shrugged it off, as if he hadn’t sprinted several blocks twenty minutes ago. “Comes with the business.”

“Well, I’d hate it. I get enough attention as it is.” She shifted some of the weight on her arm.

“Ah, what? You’re the total heartthrob in school or something?” He could see that. She had other assets that matched Raven’s – and he remembered how often that had the boys trailing after her like stray dogs desperate for affection.

“Or something.” She echoed vaguely. “I’m going to go check on your meal.”

It was only as she turned away, he noticed her right hand as it caught the faint light from above. The shine to the skin too bright to be natural and its immobility too revealing that the limb was anything but real.

Or something indeed.

God, maybe he should pitch a show because this was starting to feel like a classic TV sitcom. A single dad, running a failing restaurant and just struggling to get by to provide for his two kids, one of whom was disabled and the other was sacrificing the last of her childhood. Ruby, with her boundless optimism, would be the star of course. Yang would be the sassy, fiery-tempered co-host. Their dad would be a bumbling fool with a heart of gold. It would either top the charts or fail after the first season.

Not having much else to do as he waited, he texted the inane thought off to his agent.

Your writing leaves a lot to be desired. Stick to acting Qrow. Willow ordered.

He chuckled silently, replying: Is this why you gave your daughters such icy names? Because they were born from someone so cold?

Watch your tongue Branwen or I’ll tell Tommy Wiseau you want to co-star with him.

Ouch, I’ve got freezerburn.

I’m again questioning why I work with you.

You love me. He sent an obnoxious amount of kiss emojis along with it just to really annoy her.

She sent back swords. Ah, she was the best.

He decided to leave her alone, switching over to one of his racing game apps and immersing himself in the competition. Every now and again, he’d catch sight of the girls in the corner of his eye. Ruby taking orders and checking on customers. Yang fetching refills or cleaning up. His red Alpine racer was just passing the finish line of the second race when Ruby was coming back.

“Here you go, the best meal in the house.” She set down the dish before him. It was an excellent presentation, like it came right out of a cooking magazine. The fry-battered steak was a light, golden brown, slathered with a brownish-white, peppered gravy. A generous helping of fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes and bright yellow corn, both flecked with more pepper, completed the meal. All of it was framed by the plate with its dark blue flower trim that made the colors pop and really sold the southern charm.

“Thanks kiddo.” He said, feeling his stomach grumble.

“Enjoy!” She hesitated, adding in a small rush, “Just um, call me if you need me!”

He unrolled his utensils as she hurried away, shaking his head. She was probably hoping he’d call her every five minutes, just so she’d have more of an excuse to talk to him. Poor kid probably thought she was missing the opportunity of a lifetime. He didn’t let it bother him. After all, everyone who’s ever sat down with an interview with him knew he was a terrible conversationalist.

He cut down into the steak, finding it came apart easily and was perfectly cooked through. He dripped the bottom in the gravy, twisted it around on his fork, said a silent prayer to his arteries, and took the first bite.

Oh.

Holy Mother of Mary.

The fried breading crunched nicely but the steak practically melted into his mouth, combining with the gravy and a series of spices he couldn’t even begin to name but knew it was doing something wonderful to his taste buds.

He hummed happily. It was good. It was beyond good. As he cut another piece and took another bite, finding it as delectable as the last, he still couldn’t believe it. There was just no way anything could be this delicious.

He was over three-quarters of the way through the steak by the time Ruby came to check on him.

“Sooo,” She glanced at his plate then to him, smirking, “You like it, don’t you?”

“Don’t look so smug.” Qrow replied halfheartedly, stuffing another forkful in his mouth and hearing her fading giggle.

He didn’t get it though; with food like this, the place should be packed. If people could wait in line to get his autograph for six hours, then why couldn’t they wait a measly half hour for an incredible meal?

“Hey kid.” He said when Ruby came back around again, this time to collect his empty plate.

“Yeah?”

“We still got to take your picture. Any chance I can give my compliments to the chef while we’re at it?”

“If Yang can be in it too, you got yourself a deal.”

He chuckled. Should have expected that. “You got it.”

“Eeeee!” She squealed, hopping in excitement. “Okay, okay, let’s go now!”

He obliged, finding it hard to move at first. Wow, he was stuffed. He managed to follow Ruby to the back, seeing her wave her sister over before he was led through the double doors.

Walking into the kitchen was like walking backstage on a set – wherein the stage was just a collection of pieces meant to play their positions and what was behind the curtain was where the magic truly happened to bring it all together. But instead of sound design and lights, it was sizzling grills and knives chopping down. And instead of half a dozen people rushing about, there was only one. He was mincing up an onion with a swift finesse only the best of chefs had while singing along with a cassette player that was peddling out country tunes.

“It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you nooow.”

Singing badly, Qrow thought, cringing inwardly.

“Dad, no!” Ruby cried. Not even looking their way, the man just continued on, more loudly and off-key then before.

“Oh god, please smite me.” Yang groaned as she walked in, hiding her face in her hand.

Her sister raced across the room, pulling at his sleeve, hissing insistently. “Dad, we have company.”

“Meaning I have an audience that actually appreciates my performance?” His laughter was hearty as he peered over her head. The cutting stopped immediately. “U-Uhh…” Was all he managed to splutter before looking down at his daughter. “Uh?!”

“Told you he was here.” She said in a know-it-all sort of tone.

Used to this, Qrow just cleared his throat, introducing himself even if it felt a bit arbitrary. “Qrow Branwen. A pleasure to meet you.”

The man didn’t reply straight away, still taken aback by his very presence – or perhaps, from the faint lines of panic crinkling his brow, weighing over the fact he’d just served a celebrity without actually knowing it. Whatever it was, he seemed to catch his bearings, setting down his knife and crossing the kitchen. As he introduced himself in turn, he held out his hand, “Believe me, pleasure’s all mine. Name’s Taiyang Xiao Long.”

Xiao Long? Strange, he didn’t appear to have any Chinese in him, which likely meant he was married into the surname. At least now he really understood the restaurant’s title. Qrow shook his hand, surprised by the strong grip. He could feel the calluses built onto his hands from years of using cooking utensils.

“I apologize,” Taiyang said as he pulled back. “Had I taken my daughter’s word for it, I would have offered you a meal more extravagant. Or at the very least, some good wine.”

He had to keep himself from chuckling at the way Ruby stuck out her tongue at her dad’s back. “That’s alright. If I’m being honest, that was one of the finest meals I’ve had in quite some time.”

The chef’s cheeks turned a little rosy but his smile was just like his daughter’s, toothy and bright. “That’s mighty kind of you to say.” Heh, cute. He even talked like the aesthetic.

Before they could converse more, the ringing of a timer drew Taiyang’s attention. “Ah, pardon me.” He hurried to the stove, pausing only long enough to wash his hands.

“Sooooo,” Ruby stretched out the word as she slid back over, pulling out her phone. “Picture?”

“Wait, hold on!” Yang ripped off her hat, finger-combing through her golden locks. “Does my hair look okay?”

Her sister gave her a thumb’s up. “Like a rat’s nest. So yes- Ack!” She got smacked in the face with the hat.

“Girls, don’t be bothering him like that.” Their father chastised, stirring something in a large pot.

“We’re not!” Yang claimed.

He shook his head, but it was hard to tell if it was at her or at the soup he was tasting. “Really Mr. Branwen, you don’t have to.”

Ruby looked scandalized. “What?!”

“He owes us. I kept all the other customers away from him.” His eldest explained.

His head whipped around. “That’s worse! A man shouldn’t have to pay for his privacy!” As he pulled down some spices, he continued, “What you two ought to be doing is just appreciating the moment.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea dad. Now if only I had something to capture it with and keep it forever. Oh wait!” Ruby waved around her phone violently. “I DO!”

Unable to hold it in anymore, Qrow started to laugh. He was right; they would make a good sitcom. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met such interesting people.” He addressed the chef, “It’s alright, really. I did promise them.”

Taiyang opened his mouth to protest further, but another timer went off – how many did he have? – so he just said, “To each his own I suppose.” Before he turned to go check something in the oven.

Taking the opportunity for what it was, he held up his arms. “Alright, bring it in ladies.”

Ruby tossed her own hat next to Yang’s, giggling as his arm came around her shoulders. Yang was a little more uncomfortable, so he let his hand rest on her shoulder, above where he assumed her arm ended, and felt her relax almost instantly.

“Okay, 3, 2, 1!” They all smiled widely as the camera shutter clicked. They pulled away and Ruby looked it over to make sure it was good, before squealing happily. “Oh gosh it’s perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re – oof! – welcome.” He huffed out when she nearly tackled him with a hug. He pat her back. “Now, I believe I promised an autograph too?”

She grinned hugely. “Right, yes!” She grabbed Yang, “Come on we got to find something for him to sign!” The two hurried to a small office, and he caught Ruby saying, “He could even sign your arm!”

“You think?” Yang’s voice faded to the background, overtaken by a loud sizzling.

As Qrow came as close as he dared, Taiyang said, “Thank you for this. You really made their year.” He was stirring the onion he had minced earlier around a nice heap of melting butter in a hot pan.

“Like I said, it’s fine.” He echoed.

“Still, it’s appreciated.” The burner was flipped off and the pan taken from the heat, but the onions continued to sauté. “‘Fraid I can’t offer you much in compensation though, beyond giving you your meal free.”

He tilted his head. “Can you afford that?”

“Really, I insist. As they say, happiness is priceless.” Was the curt reply.

Only the rich say that. He scoffed at the obvious farce – not that Taiyang noticed as he turned away to attend to something else. Subtlety by words had never been his strong suit, and it wouldn’t be in the next five minutes either. So, he cut to the chase, “Listen bud, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know everything, but it’s pretty obvious from the state of this place to the lack of non-relative employees, that you’re not exactly in good standing.”

“An astute observation, but I don’t believe you needed to bring up all that just to make a case to pay for your meal.” He was back to chopping – this time, potatoes. Stubborn as a mule was a term invented for this guy, wasn’t it?

“It wasn’t.” Qrow assured. “It was a case to buy your restaurant.”

The knife chopped down so hard, it went right into the wood. Taiyang turned around to stare at him. A clatter to their left caught Qrow’s attention. The girls were both standing just outside of the office, the things they’d brought for him to sign now strewn across the ground.

No one spoke.

A beeping filled the air, and still no one spoke.

“Uh. Timer?” He said, awkwardly.

Taiyang seemed to blink out of whatever daze he was in. He came forward, almost aggressively enough that Qrow tried not to shrink back, but the other man only reached over his shoulder to turn off the timer, side-eyeing him as he walked away.

“Really?” Ruby’s small but hopeful voice shook the tense air.

Yang’s was more suspicious. “You do know you’re buying a failing business, right?”

He offered the duo a smile. “Won’t be failing when I’m done with it. This place just needs a bit of sprucing up. More staff. Maybe a new location-”

Slam! Went a cooking sheet on the countertop.

“No.” Taiyang said rigidly.

Unperturbed, Qrow carried on. “Alright, no new location. Kind of a bad move but I can work with that. But the name has got to-”

“Stop.” He commanded. “Do not treat me like a fool. I may not have grown up here, but I learned rather quickly that folks around here will do a lot for 15 minutes of fame. I will not allow you to do the same to my family.”

“What, dad-!” Yang started

“Can’t you just-!” Ruby spoke over her.

“Quiet, both of you!” He bellowed, before turning his back to them, grabbing some tongs to turn the racks of ribs around a bit more aggressively then needed. “The answer is no, and that’s final. Now, I will thank you kindly to take your empty offer and walk it out the door.”

When the girls started to raise protest again, Qrow was the one to silence them this time, raising a finger to his lips, before he took a few steps closer to the chef. “Believe me when I say the offer is not empty. Your daughter over there tells me how much this place meant to you when you first got it, but now you’re letting it rot under your feet. Is that really how you want it to go out?” The other man’s jaw clenched and he refused to look at him. He took that as a good sign, reaching out to place a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Let me help you and your family.”

For his efforts, a set of tongs were shoved so close to his face, they almost touched his nose.

Behind the makeshift weapon, Taiyang’s eyes bored into his own. He spoke steady and sharp, “Mr. Branwen, I will say this once and only once. I have put everything I got, my entire heart and soul, into this restaurant. It is the only thing I have for my girls and I am NOT about to gamble it away on some publicity stunt to stroke a rich man’s ego. So, you ask me to believe you? Then come back with a lawyer and a contract full of terms we both agree on, as I will settle for nothing less. Am I understood?”

The storm brewing in those blue eyes didn’t intimidate him, because this close, he could see the dark circles etching a deep exhaustion around them. The mark of a person desperate and at the end of their rope. Despite only knowing him for a few minutes, Qrow could tell that he was a good man, as well as aggravatingly hardheaded.

“Got it.” He told him, reaching into his pocket to fetch his shades. “I’ll see you in a few days then.”

As he pulled them on and turned away, he thought perhaps he heard Tai give some biting remark about how tomorrow, perhaps he’d be offered the moon. But he didn’t let it faze him. Instead, he crossed over to where the girls still stood, frozen – but unlike their father, they did nothing to hide the tentative hope on their faces.

Qrow lent down, fetching the sharpie and two sheets of paper, using a nearby counter to pen out the autographs. He even took the time to add his signature calligraphy, making the tail of the Q look like a feather. He offered each one in turn, “Ruby, Yang. Thank you for the pleasant experience.”

Yang was slow to take hers, as if she might say something. In the end she only thanked him.

Contrastingly, Ruby’s vibrancy was back, an almost nervous energy pitching her tone as she quickly offered to walk him to the door. It didn’t take him long to figure out why, as she hid her face in her treasured autograph and groaned. “I’m sorry about my dad. He’s just so, so, embarrassing!”

“He’s not so bad.” He refuted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Against his fingertips, he felt the buzz from his phone signaling an incoming message – no doubt An letting him know she’d arrived. “He’s playing it smart. Even I don’t do a job without a contract.”

“Still, he could have been more polite.”

Her tone allowed no argument, so he didn’t bother to tell her that for him, it was actually a refreshing change of pace. He had all sorts of people tripping over themselves to fawn at his feet and, while some celebrities ate up all that attention, Qrow had certainly never been one of them. It was nice being talked to like an equal – a privilege often reserved only to his closest coworkers and manager.

There was also just something so honestly genuine about Tai. Call it simple intuition, but he knew what it took to play all sorts of characters and he could say without a doubt that the blond wouldn’t be able to fool a preschooler if he tried. He was the kind of man who hid nothing and wore his emotions right on his sleeve.

Qrow, who shuttered his behind fake smiles and sunglasses all day, could really appreciate a quality like that.

“It was really amazing to meet you.” Ruby said as she pulled open the front door for him. “Like, as in the-best-thing-to-ever-happen-to-me amazing.”

“You’re setting the standard pretty high there, considering it won’t be the last time you see me.” Qrow said, stepping outside.

Her expression lifted, her youth seeing to shine through in her eyes. “You mean, you’re really coming back? Ever after dad was, well, a total jerkwad?”

“Well, you know what they say. You feed a crow once, and it’ll come back to roost.” He pulled down his sunglasses, enough to wink at her. “See you ‘round kiddo.”

“Y-Yeah! See you! Thank you so much, Mr. Branwen!”

He was pretty sure she waved after his car long after it left the street.

Three days would pass before Qrow would return to the Dragon’s Den. Like a knight readying for battle, he stood in front of the door over an hour before opening time.

When Tai finally arrived, he almost dropped his keys in the gutter at the mere sight of him.

“Why hello thar pardner.” Qrow drawled, tipping an imaginary hat. “Fancy meeting you here.”

For a moment, he just stared blankly. But finally, a snort escaped him. “You need to do more westerns if that’s the best you got, pardner.” He stepped forward, adding more softly, “You, came back.”

He nodded. “’Fraid I don’t have the moon to offer you, but I got the next best thing.”

Taking his cue, the gentlemen standing nearby fixed up his tie and strode forward. “Mr. Xiao Long? I’m Hei Xiong. I work in property management. It’s my understanding Mr. Branwen here would like to strike a deal with you.”

“Does he now?” That same bite Qrow’d heard in the kitchen was back, the blonde’s hackles already raised. Not missing a beat, Hei ruffled through a few papers in his folder, pulling out the top one to show him. Tai read it aloud. “Claim of co-ownership?”

“Yes. Mr. Branwen is interested in becoming your business partner.” The manager supplied.

“…Does he now?” He echoed as he looked towards Qrow, but the fiery attitude he’d expelled like a shield had doused some.

“We would be happy to discuss it in more detail this morning, if you’ve available?” Hei asked.

Anticipation held Qrow’s breath and anxiety jumped his heart as he waited for the other man’s response.

For the second time, he was rewarded with another of Tai’s bright and toothy grins. “I certainly am.” He stepped past them both and opened the door to the Den. “Please come in.”

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #taiqrow #taiqrowweek #ruby rose #yang xiao long #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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megasaurusssss · 5 years ago

Text

Dr Pershing

If people like this fic, I’ll continue it to the best of my abilities over the school holidays.

I started shipping these two about a week ago and they’re all I can think about. They’re so cute together and we need more content for them. This fic can also be a standalone one-shot if I can’t continue, so technically, even if I never pick it up, it’s still finished, right? Lol.

I do have big plans for this though.

Enjoy some Dr Pershing/Din Djarin

Title: Dr Pershing (subject to change)

Words: 4836

Summary: Din Djarin finds him in the sewers. Starving. Beaten. Bloody. On the brink of death. Pershing is trying to figure out why the Mandalorian bothered with him at all.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

"I'm so- so sorry, I didn't mean to alarm-..."

He cowered.

He seemed to be doing that a lot.

"I-I protected him! I protected him!"

He cowered from Imperials and he cowered from those who threatened them.

It seemed cowering was the only thing he was good at.

"If it wasn't for me he would already be dead!"

He trembled and stuttered and all he could think about was, oh god, I'm going to die.

Each and every time.

"Please."

But each and every time, he was spared. He was safe. He was okay.

Never had he been more afraid, though, never had he been more terrified, in the moment that he threw himself in front of the child. Even as he was shoved aside, he begged, please, don't kill him. He's just a baby. He's just a child. He can't even speak. He doesn't understand.

He was never more afraid than in that moment. But for once he found himself afraid for someone else.

But then it was over. The kid was gone. The Mandalorian left with him. Taken. Their work, gone.

And he would take the brunt of it.

There was no being spared. There were no empty threats. He would be killed. Blasted in the head.

Because why should he live when everyone else died at the hands of the Mandalorian if it were not because he betrayed them?

He ran.

He hid.

He cried.

He bled.

They were out to get him. There was a price on his head. No staying in one location. You have to keep moving. Don't get attached.

(You can't stay with this man. You will get him killed.)

(He died anyway.)

Nevarro was not an option. Not when the troopers took over the town. Not after the Mandalorian covert massacre. But he couldn't leave.

(He made money. Used the money he was paid to pay them not to say anything.)

(It didn't work. They didn't care about him. Only about getting what they wanted.)

(He vomited.)

He couldn't stay and watch the sunset. He couldn't stay in one town for the night. Had to keep moving. Get money from sketchy people. Use the remaining to get enough food to not starve.

Pass out in the woods. Wake up in a cold sweat and a searing pain in his spine.

Didn't stop moving.

He wondered if it would have been better had the Mandalorian had killed him after all.

(He never thought he'd reach such a low point, where he envied those living in poverty but held a roof over their heads.)

(His client smashed his glasses.)

It was his just desserts. It was his karma. He chose to work with the Imperials. He chose the life of a scientist.

Look where it landed him.

Dying. On the streets which he ran away from. Not by the hand of the troopers, but the ribs showing through his skin. The hollowness of his cheekbones. The hypothermia. The sleep deprivation.

(He was so unrecognisable that the troopers didn't pay attention to him.)

(Or perhaps they knew he was fucked either way.)

Despite it all, though. Even as he slipped away, even as his vision darkened and his heartbeat slowed to a crawl, even as he slumped against the wall of the sewers, he didn't regret it.

He didn't regret being afraid for someone other than himself, for once. Even if it cost him his life.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬*

When you die, it's a generally accepted fact that you don't wake up.

When he woke up, though, he was warm. Not hot. Just comfortable. Content. The best he'd felt in... well, he lost track of time.

He thought to himself, that if this was the afterlife, he rather liked it. But then his senses filtered in, and he realised with a start: he was not dead.

He was laying on a soft surface. His hair was no longer pooled around his shoulders, his beard no longer scratched at his neck. There was no longer a searing pain in his stomach or his spine. The wounds no longer stung.

His fingers twitched as he awoke. The darkness filtered away and he could see light through his eyelids. He breathed. The rattling in his chest was gone.

It was an easy conclusion. He was in a hospital.

He felt the presence of someone at his side. They did not talk or move, only breathe.

He didn't know how, but eventually, he pried his eyes open. They burned like they were on fire, but he didn't close them - he would not give up.

"Where-" such a weak voice. "Where am-" then again, that's always been the case.

He couldn't finish the sentence, though. A gloved hand suddenly grasped his arm. But it was gentle. It did not startle him.

"You're awake," came a low, modulated voice. It was him.

He didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could.

"I'm sorry."

You have nothing to apologise for.

"It's my fault you turned out this way."

He closed his eyes again. The pain was too much. He was so tired.

"If I had known..."

You couldn't have helped. It's okay.

"You protected him. You protected the kid. I can't thank you enough. He's okay because of you."

It was all he ever needed to hear. That the child was safe. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he opened them once more.

A silver helmet looked down upon him, blocking out the light situated above his head.

A tear ran down the side of his face.

"I'm... sorry," he rasped. And he was. He really was.

"You don't have to apologise for anything."

Except he did. He was a part of this. He was working with the Imperials.

He could have left at any time. But he didn't.

The Mandalorian's helmet was the last thing he saw before he fell back into unconsciousness.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

He didn't know what time it was. The lights were off, and the air was cold.

Pershing, with all the strength he could muster, hoisted himself up so that his back was against the bed rest. It made his head spin, for a moment, before his vision returned to him.

He allowed his eyes to get adjusted to the darkness.

The Mandalorian was still in the room, but he was unmoving and hunched in a chair. Asleep. Something was huddled close to his chest, something breathing and alive. The child.

If it weren't for the situation, he would have found it incredibly adorable. To think he was afraid for the child's life when all the Mandalorian wanted to do was protect it.

He looked down at himself. A needle was stuck in his arm, feeding nutrients and water. It seemed they hadn't given him a nasogastric tube just yet.

Even in the darkness of the room, now that all the dirt and grime had been washed away, he could see how pale he'd become. And how frighteningly skinny. He never had much body fat in the first place, he was surprised he hadn't died of starvation earlier.

The bundle in the Mandalorian's arms stirred. He watched with bated breath as the child turned his head, slowly, cautiously. Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry," Pershing rasped. "I'm so sorry."

The baby shifted out of the Mandalorian's grip, landing with surprising grace on the cold floor of the hospital room.

"You didn't deserve any of this. I'm so sorry."

He watched the child as it shuffled to his bedside, stopping at the edge of the bed to look up with curious eyes.

The tears welled up in Pershing's eyes. All the pain and trauma and overwhelming guilt hitting him like a tidal wave. The tears fell onto the floor below him. "I can see why he didn't want to harm you," he spoke in a broken voice. "You're so cute." A broken sob escaped him. "I'm so so sorry."

"I told you you didn't have anything to apologise for." The Mandalorian sat upright in the chair. His helmet tilted side to side as he stretched.

"I hurt him."

"You protected him."

"He was crying and he was afraid. I gave him a needle to force him to sleep. I hurt him."

The Mandalorian fell quiet. But it was not an angry silence. It was not judgemental. Pershing watched as he trudged over, leaning down to pick up the child. As he did so he did not break eye-contact.

(Or, at least, that's what Pershing imagined - since he couldn't actually see the Mandalorian's eyes. He'd still like to imagine he was looking into them.)

He decided to break the silence. "How long have I been unconscious for?"

"It's been a day since you last woke up."

"I don't remember waking up."

The Mandalorian gave him a look. It was incredible how one man could portray so much emotion with a helmet covering his face. "You apologised, and I told you you didn't have to apologise. And then you fell back asleep."

"I don't remember. I must've been out of it."

The Mandalorian didn't respond. The child cooed as he settled back into the chair. "Yeah."

"What about before then? The last thing I remember is... the, the sewers."

"You were unconscious for two days."

"I see."

He spared another glance down at the tubes feeding into him. He wanted nothing more than to eat real, solid foods, but he knew the consequences. He had a feeling he'd be having soup for a while.

"Why did you stay?" he asked. He turned his gaze back up to the Mandalorian.

"What?"

"I've been... I've been here for three days. And you've been here the entire time."

"That's correct."

"But why?"

For this, it seemed, the Mandalorian didn't have an answer. Even with the helmet, confusion was written across him in bold red pen. "I... don't understand."

"You could have left by now. With the child. You could be far away from here. You don't need to care about me of, of all people..." he trailed off, averting his gaze to his lap. He fiddled with a loose string on the hospital gown.

There was no answer, and if it weren't for the shadow, he would have thought they'd left.

It was then that the door swung open, and a nurse entered into the room. She cried, "Oh!" before leaving the room as quick as she'd come.

"Interesting." He sighed. He supposed it was a shock to her that he was awake, after nearly dying of starvation. Or...

"Did I die?"

The Mandalorian looked over in surprise. "Not that I know of. When we found you you were breathing. Which is why I took you to the hospital."

"You brought me here?... thank you."

"I couldn't just leave you."

"Still. You didn't have to do that, I... I work for the Empire. Nothing will change that."

"As far as I'm aware you were being hunted by those Imps. I don't think you work for them anymore."

Pershing shrugged. "Being hunted comes with the job description." It would have been funny had the circumstances been different.

"Same for us," the Mandalorian sighed.

Just as Pershing opened his mouth to reply, the nurse reentered with another nurse on toe. A male twi'lek.

The light flickered on.

"You're awake," the Twi'lek nurse said, rushing over to check the nutrients. "We weren't expecting that for another day or so."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." He chuckled. The nurses did not.

"We're going to have a Doctor come check your vitals. Take your blood. Since you're, well... since you seem to be up and ready to go, you should be able to leave within the week."

Within a week? He was shocked, but he supposed it made sense. It's not like he was injured. Physically at least. Just mentally.

How funny.

The human nurse left, leaving the Twi'lek to fuss over the equipment. The nurse got increasingly closer, encroaching on Pershing's personal space. As he did so, there was a sweet aroma emanating from his neck like he'd had coffee beans poured down on top of him. The lekku grazed his shoulder and, despite himself, he felt his heart rate quicken and his face flush a violent scarlet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Mandalorian shift in his seat. He imagined him with a raised eyebrow.

Finally, the nurse moved away, and he could breathe again.

"The doctor will be here in just a moment." And he left.

The Mandalorian (thank god), didn't pry into what had just occurred. That or he was just not paying attention - to which he would have been incredibly grateful. But that would have been lucky and Pershing was not a lucky man. Luck all but abandoned him as soon as he took the job and title as Imperial Scientist.

The child made a cooing noise, and the Mandalorian seemed to know what it meant. "He's hungry. Do you mind if I-?"

"Not at all."

"Okay."

"Wait-"

The Mandalorian paused in the doorway, turning to look over his shoulder back at Pershing.

"What does he eat?"

The child cooed again. The Mandalorian shrugged. "He's a carnivore. One time he swallowed a full frog, in one go. It was..."

"Oh, no! Oh no oh no oh no. He swallowed an entire frog whole? Children don't have a concept of what's poisonous and what isn't, and- and goodness, an entire frog? Without even chewing? It could have catastrophic consequences on his digestive system, how long has it been since he-?"

"He's fine."

The low, modulated voice calmed him down immediately. A chill ran down his spine, and he shivered.

"It's been well over a month. I've done enough holding him over the vactube as he makes direct eye-contact to know that he's fine."

"Oh, but..."

"He's fine."

"If that frog was poisonous he would be dead!" he snapped. He knew immediately that he'd overstepped his boundaries when the Mandalorian shifted his stance. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I wasn't aiming to imply that you-"

The Mandalorian stared as Pershing trailed off. He glared down at his lap in shame. His entire life had been leading up to this moment. Every decision only brought him to this. This was his lowest of lows. He couldn't ever be forgiven.

"You're right."

"What?"

"You're right. I need to monitor what he eats. I haven't had much time to think about it. Being hunted will do that- stop trying to make yourself look small."

He hadn't realised he was doing it. "Sorry."

"No need."

The child cooed once more, and the Mandalorian sighed. "I'll go get him some food."

Pershing watched them leave, and suddenly found himself wishing they hadn't. It's not like he had anything else to do in his small little hospital room. But he wasn't in wretched silence for long, as only a couple minutes after the Mandalorian and the child left, an Arkanian doctor entered the room with a clipboard.

"It's good to see you awake," she said. "We weren't expecting it for another day or so, but you seem to have recovered quickly."

"I'm full of surprises," he repeated his joke from earlier, but this time, he didn't laugh. The Doctor ignored it.

"How long were you on the streets for?"

The question embarrassed and mocked him. But it was fair so he supposed he had to answer. "A bit over a month."

"How much did you eat during that time period?"

"Close to nothing." He stared down at his arms. A wave of emotion rushed over him, but he did his best to conceal it.

"What about water?"

He shrugged.

The Doctor sat down on the bed. He felt the weight shift. "What was your source of income?"

She stared at him with a knowing eye.

He didn't answer and he didn't need to.

She wrote something down on her clipboard with a sigh. "You should be able to leave within a week. Until then we're going to closely monitor you. Try not to move around too much, and you're not to eat solid foods until you're dismissed."

His heart ached. No phrase in the entire universe could have ever caused so much pain. You're not to eat solid foods. How he yearned for the crunch of an apple.

It truly felt like his world was crumbling around him.

"Don't look at me like that," the Doctor sighed again. "You're a scientist, right? You know what'll happen if you eat too much too quickly."

"Yes, I- I know."

"Then you won't have any issues with it." She abruptly stood from the bed, and there was another abrupt shift in weight.

Ah yes, the arrogance of the Arkanians rivals no other. She radiated superiority complex. "Sorry."

She gave him a condescending look - probably intentional, knowing their species - before leaving, the door slamming behind her with a bang.

He was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of fatigue. He knew it would be a while since the Mandalorian returned, so... he slipped back down so that he was on his back, resting his head against the pillow. He allowed himself to stare at the ceiling for a moment, before he slipped into another deep sleep.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

The next time he woke up, the lights were still on, but he guessed it had been a couple of hours. He was disappointed to find that the Mandalorian was not in the room, and neither was the child... but he shook the disappointment away immediately. The Mandalorian didn't have any obligation towards him.

He's probably left already. He knows you're fine now. Why would he waste time staying with you?

The door pushed open, and for a moment he had a smidgen of hope, but it was just the twi'lek nurse from before. And, well, while he didn't complain, necessarily, considering the alluring properties that this nurse possessed...

"You're awake again, good." He was holding a plastic tray, and situated on it was a small glass of water and a bowl of soup. "I was worried I'd have to wake you myself," he chuckled.

Pershing's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah."

"Don't want to deal with a grumpy patient."

"Yeah..."

The soup smelled nice, and he was sure it tasted wonderful, but he still yearned for something to actually chew. Alas. He knew the risks. Refeeding syndrome wasn't to be taken lightly. Soup it was, he supposed.

"I understand Dr Alva visited you earlier today. I'd like to apologise for her attitude." The twi'lek took an elongated gaze at Pershing's eyes. It's as though they were frozen in time.

The twi'lek was so young. He was round-faced and wide-eyed. So naive.

"The- the Arkanian? Yeah, she..."

"She's brash. You can say it, everyone knows it."

"Yeah."

The doe-eyes of the twi'lek lingered for another moment before the nurse turned away. At this point, Pershing felt his entire face was on fire.

He averted his gaze to the soup and picked up the spoon.

"My name's Jad'futi, by the way. I don't believe I caught yours."

Now the twi'lek was sitting in the chair that the Mandalorian had previously occupied. "Oh," Pershing tried to swallow the knot in his throat away. It did not go away. "Don't you have a record?"

There was a flash of disappointment on Jad'futi's face. "I thought I could ask you." He smiled widely.

Ah. Pershing thought. I see. Maybe if circumstances were different, he would have given into it. Maybe if he wasn't bedridden and out of his mind with anxiety. "I'm... I'm too old for you."

This time the twi'lek actually frowned. "You don't even know how old I am."

"Not old enough."

"I'm seventeen!"

Pershing blanched. "You- you- that's even worse!" he spluttered. "That's! You're not even-"

"I'm an adult! The twi'leks come of age at sixteen, so it's fine... right?"

He stared back down at the soup. He could see his flushed reflection on the wavy surface. "That's not it, I know that... it's just, I'm more than double your age..."

There was a long stretch of silence, then a surrendering sigh. "Alright. I respect that. Technically I'm not allowed to date you anyway," he chuckled.

Pershing glanced back up. Jad'futi was staring at the opposing wall with a furrowed brow. Or at least, as furrowed of a brow as you could get when you didn't have eyebrows. "How long have you been a nurse for?" Pershing asked.

"A little over a standard year, sir."

He winced at the sudden title. He wished (not for the first time) that twi'leks weren't so naturally beautiful. "But if your species reaches adulthood at sixteen, you... how long have you been studying for?"

It had taken Pershing years to gain his title, even with his increased intelligence - if you'd pardon the modesty.

"My whole family has been in the medical field," they met eyes again, "so they started me young."

"Didn't you want to do anything else...?"

Jad'futi seemed to think for a moment. His gaze averted to the floor. "I've been fascinated by the New Republic ever since it was established. But- but my parents would never have allowed me to join, too dangerous they said..."

"Your parents are right."

"I know..."

"But I think you should go for it."

Jad'futi stared. He blinked. "I couldn't possibly."

"I thought the same way about becoming a scientist," Pershing smiled wistfully. "Now twenty years down the road I-" work for the Imperials, "-have my dream job." Not anymore, you moron.

At least this kid isn't in danger of accidentally working for the Empire. But there were so many more dangers. X-Wing being blown up. Having a run-in with storm-troopers. Mission going wrong.

"I don't know... it took me so long to become a nurse. I'm not as strong-willed or smart as everyone else in my family. And my family says that, that I have to be a nurse. Because everyone else is. I can't just abandon that."

"If you're an adult, then you can do whatever the hell you want."

Jad'futi raised his brow-less eyebrows. Before he could refute, though, the door pushed open, and in came the Mandalorian, the child tucked safely in his arms.

"...am I interrupting?" came the low modulated voice.

"I-I was just leaving!" Jad'futi stood abruptly from the seat, causing the chair to screech against the stone flooring. "I'll go now. Um, thanks for the talk."

With that, the twi'lek, with incredible speed and absolutely no grace, flung himself out of the room. The door slammed behind him.

The Mandalorian gave him a Look. Pershing shrugged, then finally took a sip of the soup he'd been brought. It was nice - and he would have expressed this had his tongue not just been burnt on the spoon.

"Ow."

"Hot?"

"A bit."

The child made a gurgling noise, then giggled. "Ow!"

Both Pershing and the Mandalorian had been stunned into silence. They both stared down at the little green baby.

"That was... you, right?" said the Mandalorian.

"No... it wasn't you...?" They both continued to stare. The child bore a large grin like he knew the exact significance of what he'd just done. "Was that his-?"

"Yeah."

"His first word?"

"Yeah."

The child cooed and bounced in the Mandalorian's lap. He definitely knew the significance, and he was proud of it.

"You should get him a treat."

The Mandalorian looked up at him. "A treat?"

"Something nice. Like new clothes for starters," he sighed. "He's wearing the exact same thing as when I last saw him."

"I haven't put much thought into it."

"Yeah, I can tell." There was a prolonged silence. Pershing took another sip of the soup, but it was still too hot. He seethed. "You'd think hospitals wouldn't serve their soup piping hot to bedridden patients. Oh," a sudden thought popped into his head, "What planet is this? There aren't any hospitals like this one on Nevarro."

The Mandalorian shifted, like he was unsure of himself. "We're on Obroa-skai."

Pershing nearly choked on his own spit. "What?" he croaked. "Are you sure it's a good idea for me to be here?"

"As far as I know they have no idea you worked for the Empire."

"But... my patch!"

"They didn't see it."

"But-?"

"They didn't see it."

They stared at each other. He couldn't see it, but he felt the Mandalorian's eyes burning into his skull. There was something there, stirring between them; but he couldn't quite place it...

"Mandalorian... um, how should I address you?"

"Mando is fine."

"Mando, then. If... if the people on this planet find out who I am, I'm... excuse my language, but I'm fucked."

"This medical facility houses all variations of alien life." He gave Pershing a pointed look as if to say, please don't swear in front of the child. "Even if they knew, they wouldn't turn up their nose."

"This planet is the stronghold of the New Republic. If I were anyone else..."

"Well, you're not anyone else." There was a certain bite to Mando's words, but they were still low and soft-spoken. Like he hadn't intended to snap.

Pershing hesitated. "You... you have no reason to trust me."

It baffled him. He worked with the Empire, willingly. He gave his life to them. Dedicated every day to be the best he could be, fought against the Rebellion, made gadgets for the troopers. Improved their tie-fighters. Spent twelve years slaving his life away for the Imperials.

And yet, this Mandalorian took one look at him, even knowing what he was, what he'd done, he took one look and decided he was trustworthy.

Why?

If he had anything other than good intentions, that child would be dead. Or the Imperials would have been hailed.

"You're right." Mando stared at the far wall. "I have no reason to trust you. You hurt the child - my child. You wore that symbol with pride on your shoulder, you stood tall next to the client."

"Yes. I-..." I'm sorry. Is that what he wanted to say? There was no use in it now.

"The Empire has caused nothing but pain. They've brought genocide upon my people. They took happiness and they tore it to shreds. They killed Kuiil, they tried to kill the child." The helmet turned. Pershing refused to look up at it. He refused to look the Mandalorian in the eyes. "I have no idea why I decided to trust you. I have no idea why I wanted to stay and make sure you were alright."

Drowning himself in the soup suddenly sounded appealing. "I'm sorry," he sniffed.

"I just knew I didn't want anyone else to die."

"Well, I'm fine now. So... I won't hold it against you if - not that I ever would, of course - I won't hold it against you if you want to leave now."

There was a long stretch of silence.

And then more silence.

Then even more.

It was deafening. It was suffocating. Pershing's heartrate quickened and his throat tightened and his fists clenched. The soup lay forgotten on the tray, and the tray quivered as his knee involuntarily shook.

He'd always hated silence. Always hated the fear that came along with it. The pure anxiety that washed over him, as his mind raced, thinking about everything and anything that could go wrong.

What's he thinking? Why isn't he saying anything? Should I never have spoken?

He's thinking he should have just left me for dead. Maybe it would have been better off.

Am I annoying? Am I too shy? Does he think I'm weak?

Maybe I am weak.

I'm a coward.

There never was an answer. When the Mandalorian left the room, the child with him, Pershing expected that the tension in his shoulders and the quickening of breath would fade. But they didn't.

He wished in those moments that please, somebody, just help me. Save me from this. I can't control it. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to suffer anymore. I don't want to be a coward. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to live.

Even, though, as these thoughts raced through his mind, and even though he willed it, he couldn't cry. His shoulders shook and his breathing hollowed out, the heart rate monitor beeped wildly and five nurses came in with defibrillators, only to discover him in the midst of a mental breakdown, and not cardiac arrest - but even so, he couldn't cry.

And, an hour later, when he heard the sound of the Mandalorian's ship taking off, he didn't feel a thing.

51 notes · View notes

admiral-hast · 4 years ago

Text

Hi I Have managed to ruin your time here for 30 seconds

HELLO HERE I HAVE PART OF A STORY TO MAKE YOUR SCROLLING TAKE LONGER

"**TROOPS! ALL READY?!**"

"YES, SIR!"

"**THEN FOLLOW ME!**"

*as the british watched, one man emerged from his trench, his metal armor gleaming. the british laughed, and then opened fire, but the laughter died quickly as bullets pinged off the metal on the man. Then, as he pulled the cover off the thing he held, the British eyes went wide, for he held a gun that looked like no other. It was no rifle.*

***but an antibunker gun.***

*he whipped the barrel, and the rifle belched fire, and a machine gun, and the men operating it, were obliterated. With the smoothness of a trained Arty, the man changed the shell in the breech, and fired again. the machineguns opened fire on him, their bullets ricocheting off just like the rifle rounds. While the storm of rounds slowed him down, he thineed it with each of his shots. Then, a massive wave of german troops climbed out of the trench far behind him, and another wave after that, followed by yet another. Rifle rounds filled the air, british ad germans falling enmasse, and then the armored man reached the trench, and jumped inside. in the chaos, he had jerry-rigged an explosive vest, and when his feet hit the trench bottom, the trench was filled with fire and death. Then, the armored man ran out of the smoke, seemingly fine, and began to cut down enemy soldiers as the normal troops flowed into the trench.*

*the remaining daylight was filled with screams*

**[Next Day]**

*the troops led on their march, the armored man at the head of their coloumn. The troops found it odd that the person was always silent, and calm - that is, until combat came. Then their commander became a demon, seemingly unkillable and always with the highest kill count of any encounter, whether it be a trench rush, a face to face confrontation, or a move against armored vehicles. there were several romours about him too - that he had won a 1v1 against an american 76 Sherman, had won against a force of flame-thrower troops, and had survived being attacked without his armor. Of course, no one believed the romours, except those who had stayed with the unit long enough.*

"Commander! Where are we going?!"

*the commander sighed softly in his helm, and took out a notepad. after he wrote down their destination, he handed it to one of the men behind him, and it was passed to the soldier who had asked.*

"Holy shi- you're going to kill us all!"

"Keep talking like that, and he might kill you himself!"

*the soldier grumbled at the soldier who said that, but went silent."

[2 hours later]

*a massive repairing grounds for allied vehicles came into view of the coloumn, and the Commander held up his hand, ordering them to stop. he then wrote another note, and passed it to the man behind him, who read it, then passed it.*

"Commander, you cant just-"

*the commander held up his hand, and then turned, and was gone. then, the sounds of gunshots came from the repairing grounds, and they watched as their commander ripped through the enemy with his sword in one hand, and killed tanks with his anti-tank pistol, causing massive fireballs as tanks exploded, and staining the ground red as he walked through the grounds, an always constant stream of insane laughter emmiting from him. The new recruits, seeing what their commander could do, what he was *happy* doing, turned white, but the ones who had been around for a while werent affected by it anymore. After about half an hour, the Commander came back to the coloumn, his armor blackened from fire and the uniform underneath stained red from the lifeblood of dozens. he made the gesture for 'Advance', and the coloumn started marching once more.

*as they marched, one of the early recruits turned to one of the veterans of the coloumn, his face still white from what he had just seen.*

"Has he.. always been like this?"

*the veteran nodded*

"Mhmm. you should have seen him against one of those Pershings when he was angry."

"He went against a *Pershing*?!"

"Not only that, but he killed it with his sword, and then.. well, you dont want to know what happened to the crew. That is, the crew that survived."

"He.. killed a Pershing.. with a sword..?"

"Yeah. Ripped the armor apart and hit the ammo rack hard enough to make it explode."

"He survived the explosion?"

"Oh, he was fine."

*then, a note was passed to the veteran, who unfolded it and read it.*

"Commander doesnt want me to talk about it anymore. But, bottom line is - everything you hear about him is true."

[1 hour before sunset]

*the coloumn had made camp, with cooks making and serving stew, and the soldiers servicing their rifles. However, despite the warm attitude outside, and the food, Commander sat in his tent, silently cleaning his massive weapons and cleaning his still-donned armor. As the troops outside went to bed, Commander sneaked from the camp, with nothing but his sword, a belt of rigged grenades, and his 50.cal revolver. As he walked, he caught a glimpse of a group of British troops, and headed towards them. As he entered the light cast by one of their fires, he heard the rustle as the troops looked over at him, and then the sounds of them all grabbing their rifles and taking aim.*

"What do you want, German?!"

*As the troops waited for an answer, Commander walked forward, hearing the clicking of rifles readying to fire. However, he didnt stop, and then sat down infront of the fire.*

"Well?! Why shouldnt we shoot you hear and now, eh?!"

*Commander sighed softly, and then took out his notepad, wrote a note, and handed it to one of the troops.*

"He says.. he wants a cup of tea.. by the fire?"

*Commander nodded*

"Then why do you have grenades and weapons?"

*Commander wrote and passed another note*

"Because you thought we were going to immediatly shoot you?"

*Commander nodded, and then shrugged, and passed another note*

"Are you mute or somethin?"

*Commander nodded again*

"How?"

*another note written and passed*

"Shrapnel to the throat.. alright then. And are you serious about tea?"

*A small nod from Commander, as he put his hands to the flame*

"Alright, fine. Boys, lower your weapons, and lets give this man a cup of tea, because we're not like the Masacring Reich."

*Commander listened as the British troops lowered their weapons, and sat by the fire, not moving. Five minutes later, a cup of tea was placed beside him, and the British who had spoken to Commander sat beside him.*

"Whats your name?"

*commander wrote on his pad, and showed it to the British*

"You're just called Commander? Have you forgotten your name?"

*Commander paused, then nodded.*

"My name's Johnson. What's it like in the German Army?"

*Commander began to write, and Johnson watched as his pen, which had moved moderately before, not became a gray blur. After writing for a minute, Commander ripped the pages out, and handed them to Johnson, who began to read*

"It's not great.. but you have it better than most.. because you have achieved legendary status as being.. 'Unkillable', and 'An unstoppable force of death'?"

*another nod from Commander*

"Then why should I trust that you wont attack us..?"

*another note, another pass*

"Because at night, you can shrug off the legend and just be a person again?"

*another nod*

"I.. see. alright then."

*Commander nodded, and then lifted his helm up to expose his mouth, and began to drink his tea, smiling whilst he drank. After a few minutes, Commander put the teacup on the ground near the fire, and then leaned on Johnson, and fell asleep. After a few minutes, Johnson fell asleep too.*

[A Few Hours Later]

*Johnson awoke to a light clanking, and opened his eyes to see that he had been layed down. He saw a note left beside him, and read it. 'Thanks for the tea'. He smiled, and looked in the direction the german named COmmander had come from, to see the moonlight reflect off a familiar helmet before it dissapeared. He got up, and went back to his tent, bringing all the notes Commander had left him the previous night with him, to make sure it wasnt a dream when he went back on march the next day, and entered his tent. He put the notes in his pack, and fell asleep in his cot.*

[The Next Morning]

*the coloumn was on the march once more, the sound of boots hitting the ground rythmatic, like clockwork, with the men talking between themselves. Commander could hear it all, but acted as if he couldnt, and so he could hear many of the whisperings and romours about himself. This is how he heard that his absence had been noticed during the night, and another tale spun about him, as the troop who had found his tent empty whispered to one of the vets*

"He wasnt in his tent-"

"Commander?"

"Mhmm. do you know what he could have been doing?"

"Aye. Tales say that he stalks in the night, a silent terror to the sleeping enemy. So if he's gone, just trust that he is gone for our safety and the gory of the Fatherland."

"..I see. How often does he do this?"

"Almost every night, when he can find a group of enemy. Just dont mind it."

"Alright. I'll try not to."

*the troops fell silent, and Commander smiled under his helm. So, no one had tried to think too much about his dissapearences.. Very good. Then, he saw a glimpse of metal, and raised his hand to halt the troops. As they stopped, an anti-tank shell smashed against Commander, errupting in a massive fireball and engulfing him. The enemy could be hear shouting to reload, and then the smoke was blown away as Commander opened his arms wide, revealing that nothing except a minor dulling of his armor's shine had happened. Then, as one, the coloumn stepped back as the saw the red, demonic glow in Commander's helm's eyeslits. The enemy laughed*

"What? Are we supposed to b- HOLY SHIT"

*COmmander seemed to dissapear with a shockwave, cracking the ground as he pushed off, and then he was inside the enemy formation. These troops were American, and their faces morphed into masks of fear as the felt the insanity coming off the angered German. As they raised their rifles, Commander pulled his own pistols out, and began to fire, each shell blowing apart whatever they hit. the men in the coloumn also began to open fire, pullets ripping through soldiers, tents, vehicles, and other weapons. As the last enemy man fell, Commander turned to his men, and surveyed his losses, before taking out his notepad and writing another note. once he finished, he gave it to the closest man, who read it aloud.

"...Take what you can off the dead, and leave the bodies, and take the vehicles and weapons."

"But shouldnt we stop?"

*another note written, another note passed*

"We can stop, but you'll go on?"

*Commander nodded at this, and the men murmered amongst themselves*

"Alright then, sir. But will you be coming back?"

*another note, another pass*

"Possibly not, so we should shoose another commander?"

*Another nod from Commander*

"..Very well. Goodbye, sir."

*and with that, Commander turned on his heel, his greatcoat swishing with him, and he advanced, leaving his unit behind so that he may continue his slaughter*

[Several hours later]

*Commander had been running for hours now, only stopping when he came across enemy troops, and even then he moved like lightning, destrony armored vehicles, men, and artliery alike, and then taking the heavy guns for his own use. However, the consequences of leaving his unit behind showed, as his armor was pocketed and scarred, the cloth covering underneath burned and slashed. However, what was underneath wasnt skin, or another uniform, but rather a full suit of armor. As he ran, he seemed to clank and squeal as armored plates hit and ground against one another, until he tripped and fell face first into dirt, his speed making him skid forward, his stolen weapons and metal going flying. As his momentum stopped, he sighed, and ceased moving, simply laying there, unable to go further.*

[Hours later]

*Commander could begin to hear a rumbling in the distance, after a countless amount of time had passed, due to no light entering his helmet. As the rumbling came closer, he recognized it as an engine, or rather, several. Then, as they became almost too loud, they stopped.*

"Well, lookee we got here boys. A sleeping German. What should we do it?"

"Dunno, Stev. Whatcha think?"

"I say we take it for questionin'"

"Who gonna pick it up, then?"

"Shouldnt be that hard. Most o' them half-starved. But I'll do it. Might have one of dem Luger thingys"

*Commander then heard the thunk of boots hitting the ground as one of the Soldiers - American, no doubt, their accents too country and stupid - Dismounted from a vehicle, most likely a tank. Then, he could feel the American try and lift him up, and hear as the soldier strained, then cursed and gave up.*

"The hell? This one be heavier than the rest of 'em. You try, John."

*As the other American approached, Commander sighed, deciding he would get up after this idiot tried. And, like the other one.. 'Stev', probably short for Stevon... 'John' gave up just as fast, if not quicker.*

"God Damn, this one is heavy"

*After the American stopped talking, Commander pushed himself up, standing fully before the soldiers realized he was up*

"Holy-"

*in silence, Commander smashed his fist into John's stomach, sending him flying into one of the tanks, the impact accompanied with the crunch of bones breaking. Commander whipped around, his fore-arm smashing into Stev's head, making the skull crunch and crumple like paper, and then bullets began to ping off his armor. As he swept around, breaking soldier after soldier, one of the tanks began to target him. As he broke the last standing soldier, it fired, sending him to his knees as the shell hit him in the back.*

"Gottem!"

*the smoke of the shell's impact parted suddenly, when Commander launched himself at the tank. In a flash of metal, cloth, flesh, and anger, he ripped the top hatch of the tank turret off, and dropped inside. Still moving too fast for the crew to see him properly, he crushed the gunner and loader against the walls, and threw the commander outside the tank. As he heard the commander hit the ground, Commander threw a tank shell hard enough into the driver compartment for it to explode, and jumped out of the tank before it detonated. As he hit the ground, he could see the tank commander look up at him in fear, frozen, and then his expression turned from fear to confused as he looked at the ruined armor and clothing of Commander, or rather, what lay beneath.*

"What in the f*ck?"

*As commander looked down at themselves, they could see why this person said that, for their armor was shredded, revealing the truth about them*

"You're a girl in a f*ckin suit of armor? Pretending to be a man?"

"..."

"What? Wont talk now?"

"... I havent spoken in more than half a decade. So pardon if my English isnt that good"

"... You sound like a goddamn rich persons daughter."

"I should just get this over with"

*As Commander ripped the machinegun out of the recently exploded tank, and leveled it at the soldier, he raised his hands, and his face turned to fear once more*

"Sorry! I didnt mean to-"

"Have you heard the legends of an iron man, bulletproof, who doesnt give mercy?"

"Well, y-yes, from retreating units, but its just a story-"

"I am that person. Now then."

*Commander pulled back the bolt on the gun*

"How long has it been since you've been able to come out of that suit?"

"... why"

"I mean, you could come out now, and-"

"I don't require another person to get out of this armor."

*After saying this, Commander pulled the trigger, and the last man dropped. Dropping the gun, she sat down, nd reached for her back, grabbing a handle, and twisted it. As it clicked, the front of the armor opened, and she stepped out, and began to repair the armor with uniforms from dead men and armored plates scattered from vehicles and personal armor*

[1 1/2 hours later]

*Commander was on the move again, her armor completely repaired. She was running for another 15 minutes before the rumble of airplane engines could be heard overhead. Commander grinned, as she had found both rope and a metal pipe she could bend into a hook, and now she intented to use them. As the planes passed overhead, she turned, and threw the pipe, with it's curved edge catching on the edge of the plane's wing. As it flew away, is began to lift Commander into the air, and then the wing creaked, and ripped off from her and her armor's weight, sending the plane in a spiral, and then as it hit the ground, a fireball.*

"..."

*she turned, and continued deeper into enemy territory, leaving the failed experiment behind.*

[3 hours later, dusk.]

*She slowed to a walk as a light flickered on the horizen, brightly. she ducked, as a spotlight went over her head*

"I saw something moving! By the Queen, I did!"

"Eh shaddup ya british prick. If ya saw it, then where it be?"

"It fookin ducked, I swear it!"

"Bah. Why dont ya go see what it is, eh?"

"..Fine."

*As the soldier began to walk her way, Commander lept toward him, smashing into him, and sending them both to the ground*

"What the hell is that?!"

*Commander sighed, laying on the ground, and decided she would see what they would try and do*

"I dont know. seems to be a giant metal puppet"

"... what"

"It just jumped out at me, its made of metal, and its just laying there now! What, you wont believe it until you see it?!"

"Yea"

"Then get over here!"

*the rusling of clothing sounded as the american came over, and crouched beside Commander*

"...Looks like you're right. Want to bring it back to camp?"

"Sure. But what if there's.. like.. someone inside?"

"Eh."

"..."

"Ok then."

*each soldier took one of Commander's legs, and began to drag her to their camp, huffing from the exertion*

"This things heavy!"

*in the next moment, she stopped moving, and one of the soldiers grabbed the rim of her helm, trying to pull it off*

"Damn thing's sealed or somethin. Wanna get a cutte-"

"Enough."

*as Commander spoke, all noise around her stopped*

"It can speak.."

"And it's female"

"I know what we shou-!"

*Before the soldier could finish his sentence, Commander grabbed him by the throat, and stood, lifting him off the ground*

"I.. was going.. to say.. food.."

"Really?"

*the soldier nodded, clawing at COmmander's metal gauntlet*

"...Very well"

*she released him, and he fell to the ground. She looked around, seeing several troops with their hands on weapons, and then spotted a kitchen truck. In an instant, Commander was sitting against the kitchen truck, in the most heated spot*

"Did she just.."

"Like a cat."

"..."

"Huh. Oi, may we ask - where are you from? Your coats got a lot of symbols on em."

*Commander looked down at the quilt of coats she wore, which contained british, american, german, and russian symbols on it from patches through the years*

"Would you shoot me if I said Germany?"

"Some of us would, but just aint right to shoot a girl."

"Then.. perhaps i should not say."

"Damn, are the Germans draftin' women now? Must be desparate!"

"... You do realize there is only one way to get this many coat patches from so many countries, correct?"

*at this, the soldier's laughter stopped, and he raised an eyebrow*

"So, you sayin yer a ruthless killer?"

"Doubt me?"

"Very."

"then i propose a bet"

"What? gonna be sewin or somethin?"

*Commander stood, and crossed her arms*

"Fight me. I win, I get a meal and a place to sleep by a fire"

"And if i win?"

"Then I'll do what you want for a day"

*At this, Commander saw a flicker of male hunger for female companionship in every soldier's eyes infront of her, if only for a moment*

(we need blyatle boi)

5 notes · View notes

blackkudos · 5 years ago

Text

Colin Powell

Colin Luther Powell (born April 5, 1937) is an American politician and retired four-star general in the United States Army. During his military career, Powell also served as National Security Advisor (1987–1989), as Commander of the U.S. Army Forces Command (1989) and as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (1989–1993), holding the latter position during the Persian Gulf War. Powell was the first, and so far the only, Jamaican American to serve on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He was the 65th United States Secretary of State, serving under U.S. President George W. Bush from 2001 to 2005, the first black person to serve in that position.

Powell was born in New York City in 1937 and was raised in the South Bronx. His parents, Luther and Maud Powell, immigrated to the United States from Jamaica. Powell was educated in the New York City public schools, graduating from the City College of New York (CCNY), where he earned a bachelor's degree in geology. He also participated in ROTC at CCNY and received a commission as an Army second lieutenant upon graduation in June 1958. His further academic achievements include a Master of Business Administration degree from George Washington University.

Powell was a professional soldier for 35 years, during which time he held many command and staff positions and rose to the rank of 4-star general. His last assignment, from October 1, 1989, to September 30, 1993, was as the 12th Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the highest military position in the Department of Defense. During this time, he oversaw 28 crises, including Operation Desert Storm in the 1991 Persian Gulf War. He also formulated the Powell Doctrine.

Following his military retirement, Powell wrote his best-selling autobiography, My American Journey. In addition, he pursued a career as a public speaker, addressing audiences across the country and abroad. Prior to his appointment as Secretary of State, Powell was the chairman of America's Promise – The Alliance for Youth, a national nonprofit organization dedicated to mobilizing people from every sector of American life to build the character and competence of young people. He was nominated by President Bush on December 16, 2000, as Secretary of State. After being unanimously confirmed by the U.S. Senate, he was sworn in as the 65th Secretary of State on January 20, 2001.

Powell is the recipient of numerous U.S. and foreign military awards and decorations. Powell's civilian awards include the Presidential Medal of Freedom (twice), the President's Citizens Medal, the Congressional Gold Medal, the Secretary of State Distinguished Service Medal, and the Secretary of Energy Distinguished Service Medal. Several schools and other institutions have been named in his honor and he holds honorary degrees from universities and colleges across the country. Powell is married to the former Alma Vivian Johnson of Birmingham, Alabama. The Powell family includes son Michael (ex-chairman of the Federal Communications Commission); daughters Linda and Anne; daughter-in-law Jane; and grandsons Jeffrey and Bryan.

In 2016, while not a candidate for that year's election, Powell received three electoral votes for the office of President of the United States.

Early life and education

Powell was born on April 5, 1937, in Harlem, a neighborhood in the New York City borough of Manhattan, to Jamaican immigrants, Maud Arial (née McKoy) and Luther Theophilus Powell. His parents were both of mixed African and Scottish ancestry. Luther worked as a shipping clerk and Maud as a seamstress. Powell was raised in the South Bronx and attended Morris High School, from which he graduated in 1954. (This school has since closed.)

While at school, Powell worked at a local baby furniture store, where he picked up Yiddish from the eastern European Jewish shopkeepers and some of the customers. He also served as a Shabbos goy, helping Orthodox families with needed tasks on the Sabbath. He received a Bachelor of Science degree in Geology from the City College of New York in 1958 and has said he was a 'C average' student. He later earned an MBA degree from the George Washington University in 1971, after his second tour in Vietnam.

Despite his parents' pronunciation of his name as , Powell has pronounced his name since childhood, after the World War II flyer Colin P. Kelly Jr. Public officials and radio and television reporters have used Powell's preferred pronunciation.

Military career

Powell was a professional soldier for 35 years, holding a variety of command and staff positions and rising to the rank of general.

Training

Powell described joining the Reserve Officers' Training Corps (ROTC) during college as one of the happiest experiences of his life; discovering something he loved and could do well, he felt he had "found himself." According to Powell:

It was only once I was in college, about six months into college when I found something that I liked, and that was ROTC, Reserve Officer Training Corps in the military. And I not only liked it, but I was pretty good at it. That's what you really have to look for in life, something that you like, and something that you think you're pretty good at. And if you can put those two things together, then you're on the right track, and just drive on.

Cadet Powell joined the Pershing Rifles, the ROTC fraternal organization and drill team begun by General John Pershing. Even after he had become a general, Powell kept on his desk a pen set he had won for a drill team competition.

Upon graduation, he received a commission as an Army second lieutenant. After attending basic training at Fort Benning, Powell was assigned to the 48th Infantry, in West Germany, as a platoon leader.

Vietnam War

In his autobiography, Powell said he is haunted by the nightmare of the Vietnam War and felt that the leadership was very ineffective.

Captain Powell served a tour in Vietnam as a South Vietnamese Army (ARVN) advisor from 1962 to 1963. While on patrol in a Viet Cong-held area, he was wounded by stepping on a punji stake. The large infection made it difficult for him to walk, and caused his foot to swell for a short time, shortening his first tour.

Powell returned to Vietnam as a major in 1968, serving as assistant chief of staff of operations for the in the 23rd (Americal) Infantry Division. During the second tour in Vietnam he was decorated with the Soldier's Medal for bravery after he survived a helicopter crash and single-handedly rescued three others, including division commander Major General Charles M. Gettys, from the burning wreckage.

Powell was charged with investigating a detailed letter by 11th Light Infantry Brigade soldier Tom Glen, which backed up rumored allegations of the My Lai Massacre. He wrote: "In direct refutation of this portrayal is the fact that relations between American soldiers and the Vietnamese people are excellent." Later, Powell's assessment would be described as whitewashing the news of the massacre, and questions would continue to remain undisclosed to the public. In May 2004 Powell said to television and radio host Larry King, "I was in a unit that was responsible for My Lai. I got there after My Lai happened. So, in war, these sorts of horrible things happen every now and again, but they are still to be deplored."

After the Vietnam War

Powell served a White House Fellowship under President Richard Nixon from 1972 to 1973. During 1975–1976 he attended the National War College, Washington, D.C.

In his autobiography, My American Journey, Powell named several officers he served under who inspired and mentored him. As a lieutenant colonel serving in South Korea, Powell was very close to General Henry "Gunfighter" Emerson. Powell said he regarded Emerson as one of the most caring officers he ever met. Emerson insisted his troops train at night to fight a possible North Korean attack, and made them repeatedly watch the television film Brian's Song to promote racial harmony. Powell always professed that what set Emerson apart was his great love of his soldiers and concern for their welfare. After a race riot occurred, in which African American soldiers almost killed a White officer, Powell was charged by Emerson to crack down on black militants; Powell's efforts led to the discharge of one soldier, and other efforts to reduce racial tensions. During 1976–1977 he commanded the 2nd Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division.

A "political general"

In the early 1980s, Powell served at Fort Carson, Colorado. After he left Fort Carson, Powell became senior military assistant to Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger, whom he assisted during the 1983 invasion of Grenada and the 1986 airstrike on Libya.

In 1986, Powell took over the command of V Corps in Frankfurt, Germany, from Robert Lewis "Sam" Wetzel.

Following the Iran–Contra scandal, Powell became, at the age of 49, Ronald Reagan's National Security Advisor, serving from 1987 to 1989 while retaining his Army commission as a lieutenant general.

In April 1989, after his tenure with the National Security Council, Powell was promoted to four-star general under President George H. W. Bush and briefly served as the Commander in Chief, Forces Command (FORSCOM), headquartered at Fort McPherson, Georgia, overseeing all Army, Army Reserve, and National Guard units in the Continental U.S., Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico. He became the third general since World War II to reach four-star rank without ever serving as a division commander, joining Dwight D. Eisenhower and Alexander Haig.

Later that year, President George H. W. Bush selected him as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

Powell's last military assignment, from October 1, 1989, to September 30, 1993, was as the 12th Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the highest military position in the Department of Defense. At age 52, he became the youngest officer, and first Afro-Caribbean American, to serve in this position. Powell was also the first JCS Chair who received his commission through ROTC.

During this time, he oversaw responses to 28 crises, including the invasion of Panama in 1989 to remove General Manuel Noriega from power and Operation Desert Storm in the 1991 Persian Gulf War. During these events, Powell earned his nickname, "the reluctant warrior." He rarely advocated military intervention as the first solution to an international crisis, and instead usually prescribed diplomacy and containment.

As a military strategist, Powell advocated an approach to military conflicts that maximizes the potential for success and minimizes casualties. A component of this approach is the use of overwhelming force, which he applied to Operation Desert Storm in 1991. His approach has been dubbed the "Powell Doctrine." Powell continued as chairman of the JCS into the Clinton presidency but as a dedicated "realist" he considered himself a bad fit for an administration largely made up of liberal internationalists. He clashed with then-U.S. ambassador to the United Nations Madeleine Albright over the Bosnian crisis, as he opposed any military interventions that didn't involve US interests.

During his chairmanship of the JCS, there was discussion of awarding Powell a fifth star, granting him the rank of General of the Army. But even in the wake of public and Congressional pressure to do so, Clinton-Gore presidential transition team staffers decided against it.

Dates of rankAwards and decorationsBadges

Potential presidential candidate

Powell's experience in military matters made him a very popular figure with both American political parties. Many Democrats admired his moderate stance on military matters, while many Republicans saw him as a great asset associated with the successes of past Republican administrations. Put forth as a potential Democratic Vice Presidential nominee in the 1992 U.S. presidential election or even potentially replacing Vice President Dan Quayle as the Republican Vice Presidential nominee, Powell eventually declared himself a Republican and began to campaign for Republican candidates in 1995. He was touted as a possible opponent of Bill Clinton in the 1996 U.S. presidential election, possibly capitalizing on a split conservative vote in Iowa and even leading New Hampshire polls for the GOP nomination, but Powell declined, citing a lack of passion for politics. Powell defeated Clinton 50–38 in a hypothetical match-up proposed to voters in the exit polls conducted on Election Day. Despite not standing in the race, Powell won the Republican New Hampshire Vice-Presidential primary on write-in votes.

In 1997 Powell founded America's Promise with the objective of helping children from all socioeconomic sectors. That same year saw the establishment of The Colin L. Powell Center for Leadership and Service. The mission of the Center is to "prepare new generations of publicly engaged leaders from populations previously underrepresented in public service and policy circles, to build a strong culture of civic engagement at City College, and to mobilize campus resources to meet pressing community needs and serve the public good."

Powell was mentioned as a potential candidate in the 2000 U.S. presidential election, but again decided against running. Once Texas Governor George W. Bush secured the Republican nomination, Powell endorsed him for president and spoke at the 2000 Republican National Convention. Bush won the general election and appointed Powell as Secretary of State.

In the electoral college vote count of 2016, Powell received three votes for President from faithless electors from Washington.

Secretary of State (2001–2005)

As Secretary of State in the Bush administration, Powell was perceived as moderate. Powell was unanimously confirmed by the United States Senate. Over the course of his tenure he traveled less than any other U.S. Secretary of State in 30 years.

On September 11, 2001, Powell was in Lima, Peru, meeting with President Alejandro Toledo and US Ambassador John Hamilton, and attending the special session of the OAS General Assembly that subsequently adopted the Inter-American Democratic Charter. After the September 11 attacks, Powell's job became of critical importance in managing America's relationships with foreign countries in order to secure a stable coalition in the War on Terrorism.

Powell came under fire for his role in building the case for the 2003 Invasion of Iraq. In a press statement on February 24, 2001, he had said that sanctions against Iraq had prevented the development of any weapons of mass destruction by Saddam Hussein. As was the case in the days leading up to the Persian Gulf War, Powell was initially opposed to a forcible overthrow of Saddam, preferring to continue a policy of containment. However, Powell eventually agreed to go along with the Bush administration's determination to remove Saddam. He had often clashed with others in the administration, who were reportedly planning an Iraq invasion even before the September 11 attacks, an insight supported by testimony by former terrorism czar Richard Clarke in front of the 9/11 Commission. The main concession Powell wanted before he would offer his full support for the Iraq War was the involvement of the international community in the invasion, as opposed to a unilateral approach. He was also successful in persuading Bush to take the case of Iraq to the United Nations, and in moderating other initiatives. Powell was placed at the forefront of this diplomatic campaign.

Powell's chief role was to garner international support for a multi-national coalition to mount the invasion. To this end, Powell addressed a plenary session of the United Nations Security Council on February 5, 2003, to argue in favor of military action. Citing numerous anonymous Iraqi defectors, Powell asserted that "there can be no doubt that Saddam Hussein has biological weapons and the capability to rapidly produce more, many more." Powell also stated that there was "no doubt in my mind" that Saddam was working to obtain key components to produce nuclear weapons.

Most observers praised Powell's oratorical skills. However, Britain's Channel 4 News reported soon afterwards that a UK intelligence dossier that Powell had referred to as a "fine paper" during his presentation had been based on old material and plagiarized an essay by American graduate student Ibrahim al-Marashi.A 2004 report by the Iraq Survey Group concluded that the evidence that Powell offered to support the allegation that the Iraqi government possessed weapons of mass destruction (WMDs) was inaccurate.

In an interview with Charlie Rose, Powell contended that prior to his UN presentation, he had merely four days to review the data concerning WMD in Iraq.

A Senate report on intelligence failures would later detail the intense debate that went on behind the scenes on what to include in Powell's speech. State Department analysts had found dozens of factual problems in drafts of the speech. Some of the claims were taken out, but others were left in, such as claims based on the yellowcake forgery. The administration came under fire for having acted on faulty intelligence, particularly what was single-sourced to the informant known as Curveball. Powell later recounted how Vice President Dick Cheney had joked with him before he gave the speech, telling him, "You've got high poll ratings; you can afford to lose a few points." Powell's longtime aide-de-camp and Chief of Staff from 1989–2003, Colonel Lawrence Wilkerson, later characterized Cheney's view of Powell's mission as to "go up there and sell it, and we'll have moved forward a peg or two. Fall on your damn sword and kill yourself, and I'll be happy, too."

In September 2005, Powell was asked about the speech during an interview with Barbara Walters and responded that it was a "blot" on his record. He went on to say, "It will always be a part of my record. It was painful. It's painful now."

Wilkerson said that he inadvertently participated in a hoax on the American people in preparing Powell's erroneous testimony before the United Nations Security Council.

Because Powell was seen as more moderate than most figures in the administration, he was spared many of the attacks that have been leveled at more controversial advocates of the invasion, such as Donald Rumsfeld and Paul Wolfowitz. At times, infighting among the Powell-led State Department, the Rumsfeld-led Defense Department, and Cheney's office had the effect of polarizing the administration on crucial issues, such as what actions to take regarding Iran and North Korea.

After Saddam Hussein had been deposed, Powell's new role was to once again establish a working international coalition, this time to assist in the rebuilding of post-war Iraq. On September 13, 2004, Powell testified before the Senate Governmental Affairs Committee, acknowledging that the sources who provided much of the information in his February 2003 UN presentation were "wrong" and that it was "unlikely" that any stockpiles of WMDs would be found. Claiming that he was unaware that some intelligence officials questioned the information prior to his presentation, Powell pushed for reform in the intelligence community, including the creation of a national intelligence director who would assure that "what one person knew, everyone else knew."

Additionally, Powell has been critical of other aspects of U.S. foreign policy in the past, such as its support for the 1973 Chilean coup d'état. From two separate interviews in 2003, Powell stated in one about the 1973 event "I can't justify or explain the actions and decisions that were made at that time. It was a different time. There was a great deal of concern about communism in this part of the world. Communism was a threat to the democracies in this part of the world. It was a threat to the United States." In another interview, however, he also simply stated "With respect to your earlier comment about Chile in the 1970s and what happened with Mr. Allende, it is not a part of American history that we're proud of."

Powell announced his resignation as Secretary of State on November 15, 2004. According to The Washington Post, he had been asked to resign by the president's chief of staff, Andrew Card. Powell announced that he would stay on until the end of Bush's first term or until his replacement's confirmation by Congress. The following day, Bush nominated National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice as Powell's successor. News of Powell's leaving the Administration spurred mixed reactions from politicians around the world — some upset at the loss of a statesman seen as a moderating factor within the Bush administration, but others hoping for Powell's successor to wield more influence within the cabinet.

In mid-November, Powell stated that he had seen new evidence suggesting that Iran was adapting missiles for a nuclear delivery system. The accusation came at the same time as the settlement of an agreement between Iran, the IAEA, and the European Union.

On December 31, 2004, Powell rang in the New Year by pressing a button in Times Square with New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg to initiate the ball drop and 60 second countdown, ushering in the year 2005. He appeared on the networks that were broadcasting New Year's Eve specials and talked about this honor, as well as being a native of New York City.

Life after diplomatic service

After retiring from the role of Secretary of State, Powell returned to private life. In April 2005, he was privately telephoned by Republican senators Lincoln Chafee and Chuck Hagel, at which time Powell expressed reservations and mixed reviews about the nomination of John R. Bolton as ambassador to the United Nations, but refrained from advising the senators to oppose Bolton (Powell had clashed with Bolton during Bush's first term). The decision was viewed as potentially dealing significant damage to Bolton's chances of confirmation. Bolton was put into the position via a recess appointment because of the strong opposition in the Senate.

On April 28, 2005, an opinion piece in The Guardian by Sidney Blumenthal (a former top aide to President Bill Clinton) claimed that Powell was in fact "conducting a campaign" against Bolton because of the acrimonious battles they had had while working together, which among other things had resulted in Powell cutting Bolton out of talks with Iran and Libya after complaints about Bolton's involvement from the British. Blumenthal added that "The foreign relations committee has discovered that Bolton made a highly unusual request and gained access to 10 intercepts by the National Security Agency. Staff members on the committee believe that Bolton was probably spying on Powell, his senior advisors and other officials reporting to him on diplomatic initiatives that Bolton opposed."

In July 2005, Powell joined Kleiner, Perkins, Caufield & Byers, a well-known Silicon Valley venture capital firm, with the title of "strategic limited partner."

In September 2005, Powell criticized the response to Hurricane Katrina. Powell said that thousands of people were not properly protected, but because they were poor rather than because they were black.

On January 5, 2006, he participated in a meeting at the White House of former Secretaries of Defense and State to discuss United States foreign policy with Bush administration officials. In September 2006, Powell sided with more moderate Senate Republicans in supporting more rights for detainees and opposing President Bush's terrorism bill. He backed Senators John Warner, John McCain and Lindsey Graham in their statement that U.S. military and intelligence personnel in future wars will suffer for abuses committed in 2006 by the U.S. in the name of fighting terrorism. Powell stated that "The world is beginning to doubt the moral basis of [America's] fight against terrorism."

Also in 2006, Powell began appearing as a speaker at a series of motivational events called Get Motivated, along with former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani. In his speeches for the tour, he openly criticized the Bush Administration on a number of issues. Powell has been the recipient of mild criticism for his role with Get Motivated which has been called a "get-rich-quick-without-much-effort, feel-good schemology."

In 2007 he joined the board of directors of Steve Case's new company Revolution Health. Powell also serves on the Council on Foreign Relations Board of directors.

Powell, in honor of Martin Luther King Day, dropped the ceremonial first puck at a New York Islanders ice hockey game at Nassau Coliseum on January 21, 2008. On November 11, 2008, Powell again dropped the puck in recognition of Military Appreciation Day and Veterans Day.

Recently, Powell has encouraged young people to continue to use new technologies to their advantage in the future. In a speech at the Center for Strategic and International Studies to a room of young professionals, he said, "That's your generation...a generation that is hard-wired digital, a generation that understands the power of the information revolution and how it is transforming the world. A generation that you represent, and you're coming together to share; to debate; to decide; to connect with each other." At this event, he encouraged the next generation to involve themselves politically on the upcoming Next America Project, which uses online debate to provide policy recommendations for the upcoming administration.

In 2008, Powell served as a spokesperson for National Mentoring Month, a campaign held each January to recruit volunteer mentors for at-risk youth.

Soon after Barack Obama's 2008 election, Powell began being mentioned as a possible cabinet member. He was not nominated.

In September 2009, Powell advised President Obama against surging US forces in Afghanistan. The president announced the surge the following December.

On March 14, 2014, Salesforce.com announced that Powell had joined its board of directors.

Political views

A liberal Republican, Powell is well known for his willingness to support liberal or centrist causes. He is pro-choice regarding abortion, and in favor of "reasonable" gun control. He stated in his autobiography that he supports affirmative action that levels the playing field, without giving a leg up to undeserving persons because of racial issues. Powell was also instrumental in the 1993 implementation of the military's don't ask, don't tell policy, though he later supported its repeal as proposed by Robert Gates and Admiral Mike Mullen in January 2010, saying "circumstances had changed."

The Vietnam War had a profound effect on Powell's views of the proper use of military force. These views are described in detail in the autobiography My American Journey. The Powell Doctrine, as the views became known, was a central component of U.S. policy in the Persian Gulf War (the first U.S. war in Iraq) and U.S. invasion of Afghanistan (the overthrow of the Taliban regime in Afghanistan following the September 11 attacks). The hallmark of both operations was strong international cooperation, and the use of overwhelming military force.

Powell was the subject of controversy in 2004 when, in a conversation with British Foreign Secretary Jack Straw, he reportedly referred to neoconservatives within the Bush administration as "fucking crazies." In addition to being reported in the press (although the expletive was generally censored in the U.S. press), the quotation was used by James Naughtie in his book, The Accidental American: Tony Blair and the Presidency, and by Chris Patten in his book, Cousins and Strangers: America, Britain, and Europe in a New Century.

In a September 2006 letter to Sen. John McCain, General Powell expressed opposition to President Bush's push for military tribunals of those formerly and currently classified as enemy combatants. Specifically, he objected to the effort in Congress to "redefine Common Article 3 of the Geneva Convention." He also asserted: "The world is beginning to doubt the moral basis of our fight against terrorism."

Powell endorsed President Obama in 2008 and again in 2012. When asked why he is still a Republican on Meet the Press he said, "I'm still a Republican. And I think the Republican Party needs me more than the Democratic Party needs me. And you can be a Republican and still feel strongly about issues such as immigration, and improving our education system, and doing something about some of the social problems that exist in our society and our country. I don't think there's anything inconsistent with this."

While Powell was wary of a military solution, he supported the decision to invade Iraq after the Bush administration concluded that diplomatic efforts had failed. After his departure from the State Department, Powell repeatedly emphasized his continued support for American involvement in the Iraq War.

At the 2007 Aspen Ideas Festival in Colorado, Powell revealed that he had spent two and a half hours explaining to President Bush "the consequences of going into an Arab country and becoming the occupiers." During this discussion, he insisted that the U.S. appeal to the United Nations first, but if diplomacy failed, he would support the invasion: "I also had to say to him that you are the President, you will have to make the ultimate judgment, and if the judgment is this isn't working and we don't think it is going to solve the problem, then if military action is undertaken I'm with you, I support you."

In a 2008 interview on CNN, Powell reiterated his support for the 2003 decision to invade Iraq in the context of his endorsement of Barack Obama, stating: "My role has been very, very straightforward. I wanted to avoid a war. The president [Bush] agreed with me. We tried to do that. We couldn't get it through the U.N. and when the president made the decision, I supported that decision. And I've never blinked from that. I've never said I didn't support a decision to go to war."

Powell's position on the Iraq War troop surge of 2007 has been less consistent. In December 2006, he expressed skepticism that the strategy would work and whether the U.S. military had enough troops to carry it out successfully. He stated: "I am not persuaded that another surge of troops into Baghdad for the purposes of suppressing this communitarian violence, this civil war, will work." Following his endorsement of Barack Obama in October 2008, however, Powell praised General David Petraeus and U.S. troops, as well as the Iraqi government, concluding that "it's starting to turn around." By mid-2009, he had concluded a surge of U.S. forces in Iraq should have come sooner, perhaps in late 2003. Throughout this period, Powell consistently argued that Iraqi political progress was essential, not just military force.

Powell donated the maximum allowable amount to John McCain's campaign in the summer of 2007 and in early 2008, his name was listed as a possible running mate for Republican nominee McCain's bid during the 2008 U.S. presidential election. However, on October 19, 2008, Powell announced his endorsement of Barack Obama during a Meet the Press interview, citing "his ability to inspire, because of the inclusive nature of his campaign, because he is reaching out all across America, because of who he is and his rhetorical abilities", in addition to his "style and substance." He additionally referred to Obama as a "transformational figure." Powell further questioned McCain's judgment in appointing Sarah Palin as the vice presidential candidate, stating that despite the fact that she is admired, "now that we have had a chance to watch her for some seven weeks, I don't believe she's ready to be president of the United States, which is the job of the vice president." He said that Obama's choice for vice-president, Joe Biden, was ready to be president. He also added that he was "troubled" by the "false intimations that Obama was Muslim." Powell stated that "[Obama] is a Christian—he's always been a Christian... But the really right answer is, what if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer's no, that's not America." Powell then mentioned Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan, a Muslim American soldier in the U.S. Army who served and died in the Iraq War. He later stated, "Over the last seven weeks, the approach of the Republican Party has become narrower and narrower [...] I look at these kind of approaches to the campaign, and they trouble me." Powell concluded his Sunday morning talk show comments, "It isn't easy for me to disappoint Sen. McCain in the way that I have this morning, and I regret that [...] I think we need a transformational figure. I think we need a president who is a generational change and that's why I'm supporting Barack Obama, not out of any lack of respect or admiration for Sen. John McCain." Later in a December 12, 2008, CNN interview with Fareed Zakaria, Powell reiterated his belief that during the last few months of the campaign, Palin pushed the Republican party further to the right and had a polarizing impact on it.

In a July 2009 CNN interview with John King, Powell expressed concern over President Obama growing the size of the federal government and the size of the federal budget deficit. In September 2010, he criticized the Obama administration for not focusing "like a razor blade" on the economy and job creation. Powell reiterated that Obama was a "transformational figure." In a video that aired on CNN.com in November 2011, Colin Powell said in reference to Barack Obama, "many of his decisions have been quite sound. The financial system was put back on a stable basis."

On October 25, 2012, 12 days before the presidential election, he gave his endorsement to President Obama for re-election during a broadcast of CBS This Morning. He cited success and forward progress in foreign and domestic policy arenas under the Obama Administration, and made the following statement: "I voted for him in 2008 and I plan to stick with him in 2012 and I'll be voting for he [sic] and for Vice President Joe Biden next month."

As additional reason for his endorsement, Powell cited the changing positions and perceived lack of thoughtfulness of Mitt Romney on foreign affairs, and a concern for the validity of Romney's economic plans.

In an interview with ABC's Diane Sawyer and George Stephanopoulos during ABC's coverage of President Obama's second inauguration, Powell criticized members of the Republican Party who "demonize[d] the president." He called on GOP leaders to publicly denounce such talk.

Powell has been very vocal on the state of the Republican party. Speaking at a Washington Ideas forum in early October 2015, he warned the audience that the Republican party had begun a move to the fringe right, lessening the chances of a Republican White House in the future. He also remarked on Republican presidential contender Donald Trump's statements regarding immigrants, noting that there were many immigrants working in Trump hotels.

In March 2016, Powell denounced the "nastiness" of the 2016 Republican primaries during an interview on CBS This Morning. He compared the race to reality television, and stated that the campaign had gone "into the mud."

In August 2016, Powell accused the Clinton campaign of trying to pin Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton's email controversy on him. Speaking to People magazine, Powell said, "The truth is, she was using [the private email server] for a year before I sent her a memo telling her what I did."

On September 13, 2016, emails were obtained that revealed Powell's private communications regarding both Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. Powell privately reiterated his comments regarding Clinton's email scandal, writing, "I have told Hillary's minions repeatedly that they are making a mistake trying to drag me in, yet they still try," and complaining that "Hillary's mafia keeps trying to suck me into it" in another email. In another email discussing Clinton's controversy, Powell noted that she should have told everyone what she did "two years ago", and said that she has not "been covering herself with glory." Writing on the 2012 Benghazi attack controversy surrounding Clinton, Powell said to then U.S. Ambassador Susan Rice, "Benghazi is a stupid witch hunt." Commenting on Clinton in a general sense, Powell mused that "Everything [Clinton] touches she kind of screws up with hubris", and in another email stated "I would rather not have to vote for her, although she is a friend I respect."

Powell referred to Donald Trump as a "national disgrace", with "no sense of shame." He wrote of Trump's role in the birther movement, which he referred to as "racist." Powell suggested that the media ignore Trump, saying, "To go on and call him an idiot just emboldens him." The emails were obtained by the media as the result of a hack.

Powell endorsed Clinton on October 25, 2016, stating it was "because I think she's qualified, and the other gentleman is not qualified."

Despite not running in the election, Powell received three electoral votes for president from faithless electors in Washington who had pledged to vote for Clinton, coming in third overall. After Barack Obama, Powell was only the second Black person to receive electoral votes in a presidential election. He was also the first Republican since 1984 to receive electoral votes from Washington in a presidential election, as well as the first Republican Black person to do so.

In an interview in October 2019, Powell warned that the GOP needed to “get a grip" and put the country before their party, standing up to President Trump rather than worrying about political fallout. “When they see things that are not right, they need to say something about it because our foreign policy is in shambles right now, in my humble judgment, and I see things happening that are hard to understand,” Powell said.

Personal life

Powell married Alma Johnson on August 25, 1962. Their son, Michael Powell, was the chairman of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) from 2001 to 2005. His daughters are Linda Powell, an actress, and Annemarie Powell. As a hobby, Powell restores old Volvo and Saab cars. In 2013, he faced questions about a relationship with a Romanian diplomat, after a hacked AOL email account had been made public. He acknowledged a "very personal" email relationship but denied further involvement.

Civilian awards and honors

Powell's civilian awards include two Presidential Medals of Freedom (the second with distinction), the President's Citizens Medal, the Congressional Gold Medal, the Secretary of State Distinguished Service Medal, the Secretary of Energy Distinguished Service Medal, and the Ronald Reagan Freedom Award. Several schools and other institutions have been named in his honor and he holds honorary degrees from universities and colleges across the country.

In 1988, Powell received the Academy of Achievement's Golden Plate Award.

In 1990, Powell received the U.S. Senator John Heinz Award for Greatest Public Service by an Elected or Appointed Official, an award given out annually by Jefferson Awards.

In 1991, Powell was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President George H. W. Bush.

In 1991, Powell was awarded the Spingarn Medal from the NAACP.

In 1991, Powell was inducted into the Horatio Alger Association of Distinguished Americans, which "honors the achievements of outstanding individuals in U.S. society who have succeeded in spite of adversity and of encouraging young people to pursue their dreams through higher education."

On April 23, 1991, Powell was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal "in recognition of his exemplary performance as a military leader and advisor to the President in planning and coordinating the military response of the United States to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and the ultimate retreat and defeat of Iraqi forces and Iraqi acceptance of all United Nations Resolutions relating to Kuwait."

On September 30, 1993, Powell was awarded his second Presidential Medal of Freedom with distinction by President Bill Clinton.

On November 9, 1993, Powell was awarded the second Ronald Reagan Freedom Award, by President Ronald Reagan. Powell served as Reagan's National Security Advisor from 1987–1989.

On December 15, 1993, Colin Powell was created an honorary Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath by Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom.

In 1998, he was awarded the prestigious Sylvanus Thayer Award by the United States Military Academy for his commitment to the ideals of "Duty, Honor, Country."

The 2002 Liberty Medal was awarded to Colin Powell on July 4 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In his acceptance speech, Powell reminded Americans that "It is for America, the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, to help freedom ring across the globe, unto all the peoples thereof. That is our solemn obligation, and we will not fail."

The coat of arms of Colin Powell was granted by the Lord Lyon in Edinburgh on February 4, 2004. Technically the grant was to Powell's father (a British subject) to be passed on by descent. Scotland's King of Arms is traditionally responsible for granting arms to Commonwealth citizens of Scottish descent. Blazoned as

Azure, two swords in saltire points downwards between four mullets Argent, on a chief of the Second a lion passant Gules. On a wreath of the Liveries is set for Crest the head of an American bald-headed eagle erased Proper. And in an escrol over the same this motto, "DEVOTED TO PUBLIC SERVICE."

The swords and stars refer to the former general's career, as does the crest, which is the badge of the 101st Airborne (which he served as a brigade commander in the mid-1970s). The lion may be an allusion to Scotland. The shield can be shown surrounded by the insignia of an honorary Knight Commander of the Most Honorable Order of the Bath (KCB), an award the General received after the first Gulf War.

In 2005 Powell received the Bishop John T. Walker Distinguished Humanitarian Service Award for his contributions to Africa.

AARP honored Powell with the 2006 AARP Andrus Award, the Association's highest honor. This award, named in honor of AARP's founder, Dr. Ethel Percy Andrus, is presented biennially to distinguished individuals who have generated positive social change in the world, and whose work and achievements reflect AARP's vision of bringing lifetimes of experience and leadership to serve all generations.

In 2005 Colin and Alma Powell were awarded the Woodrow Wilson Award for Public Service by the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars of the Smithsonian Institution.

Colin Powell was initiated as an honorary brother in Sigma Phi Epsilon.

Powell is a recipient of the Silver Buffalo Award, the highest adult award given by the Boy Scouts of America.

A street in Gelnhausen, Germany was named after him: "General-Colin-Powell-Straße."

In 2002, scholar Molefi Kete Asante listed Colin Powell on his list of 100 Greatest Blacks in America.

In 2009, an elementary school named for Colin Powell opened in El Paso. It is in the El Paso Independent School District, located on Fort Bliss property, and serves a portion of Fort Bliss. There is also a street in El Paso named for Powell, Colin Powell Drive.

Powell is an Honorary Board Member of the humanitarian organization Wings of Hope

Since 2006, he is the chairman of the Board of Trustees for Eisenhower Fellowships

In 2006, The Harry S. Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace at The Hebrew University of Jerusalem awarded Colin Powell with the Truman Peace Prize for his efforts to conduct the "war against terrorism", through diplomatic as well as military means, and to avert regional and civil conflicts in many parts of the world.

In September 2012 Union City, New Jersey opened Colin Powell Elementary School, which was named after Powell, and dedicated the school on February 7, 2013, with governor Chris Christie in attendance. Powell himself visited the school on June 4, 2013.

In 2014, Colin Powell was named to the National Board of Advisors for High Point University.

#04/05

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nemesisbinxartifactseries · 5 years ago

Text

Artifact Series J

J. Allen Hynek's Telescope

J. Edgar Hoover's Tie

J. McCullough's Golf Ball

J. Templer's Wind-Up Tin Rooster *

J. C. Agajanian’s Stetson

J.T. Saylors's Overalls

J.M. Barrie’s Swiss Trychels

J.M.W. Turner's Rain, Steam and Speed-The Great Western Railway *

J.R.R. Tolken's Ring

Jack-in-the-Box

Jack's Magic Beanstalk

Jack Daniel's Original Whisky Bottle

Jack Dawson's Art Kit

Jack Duncan's Spur *

Jack Frost's Staff

Jack Kerouac's Typewriter

Jack Ketch's Axe

Jack LaLanne's Stationary Bike *

Jack London's Dog Collar

Jack Parson's Rocket Engine

Jack Sheppard's Hammer

Jack Sparrow's Compass

Jack Torrance's Croquet Mallet

Jack the Ripper's Lantern *

Jackie Robinson's Baseball

Jackson Pollock's "No. 5, 1948"

Jackson Pollock's Pack of Cigarettes

Jackson Pollock's Paint Cans

Jack's Regisword

Jack Vettriano's "The Singing Butler"

Jack's Wrench

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm's Kinder- und Hausmarchen

Jacob "Jack" Kevorkian's Otoscope

Jacob Kurtzberg's Belt *

Jacqueline Cochran's Brooch

Jacques Aymar-Vernay’s Dowsing Rod

Jacques Cousteau's Goggles

Jacques Cousteau's Diving Suit

Jacques-Louis David's Napoleon Crossing the Alps *

Jade Butterfly

Jadeite Cabbage

Jalal-ud-Din Muhammad Akbar's Smoke Pipe

Jamaica Ginger Bottle

Jaleel White's Hosting Chair

James Abbot McNeill Whistler's Whistler's Mother *

James Allen's Memoir

James Bartley's Britches

James Ben Ali Haggin's Leaky Fountain Pen

James Bert Garner’s Gas Mask

James Bett's Cupboard Handle

James Braid's Chair *

James Brown's Shoes

James Bulger's Sweater

James Buzzanell's Painting "Grief and Pain"

James Buzzanell’s Survey Books

James C. McReynolds’ Judicial Robe

James Chadwick's Nobel Prize

James Clerk Maxwell's Camera Lens

James Colnett's Otter Pelt

James Condliff's Skeleton Clock

James Cook's Mahiole and Feather Cloak

James Craik's Spring Lancet

James Dean's 1955 Prosche 550 Spyder, aka "Little Bastard"

James Dean's UCLA Varsity Jacket

James Dinsmoor's Dinner Bell

James Eads How’s Bindle

James Earl Ray's Rifle

James Fenimore Cooper's Arrow Heads

James Gandolfini's Jukebox

James Hadfield’s Glass Bottle of Water

James Hall III’s Shopping Bags

James Henry Atkinson's Mouse Trap

James Henry Pullen’s Mannequin

James Hoban's Drawing Utensils

James Holman’s Cane

James Hutton's Overcoat

James Joyce’s Eyepatch

James M. Barrie's Grandfather Clock

James M. Barrie's Suitcase

James Murrell's Witch Bottle

James Philip’s Riata

James Prescott Joule's Thermodynamic Generator

James Smithson's Money

James Tilly Matthews’ Air Loom

James Warren and Willoughby Monzani's Piece of Wood

James Watt's Steam Condenser

James Watt's Weather Vane

James W. Marshall’s Jar

Jan Baalsrud’s Stretcher

Jan Baptist van Helmont's Willow Tree

Jane Austen's Carriage

Jane Austen's Gloves

Jane Austen's Quill

Jane Bartholomew's "Lady Columbia" Torch

Jane Pierce's Veil

Janet Leigh's Shower Curtain

Janine Charrat's Ballet Slippers

Jan Janzoon's Boomerang *

Janis Joplin's Backstage Pass from Woodstock *

Jan Karski's Passport

Janus Coin *

Jan van Eyck’s Chaperon

Jan van Speyk's Flag of the Netherlands

Jan Wnęk's Angel Figurine

Jan Žižka's Wagenburg Wagons

The Japanese Nightingale

Jar of Dust from the Mount Asama Eruption

Jar of Greek Funeral Beans

Jar of Marbles

Jar of Molasses from The Boston Molasses Disaster

Jar of Sand

Jar of Semper Augustus Bulbs

Jar of Shiva

Jar of Sugar Plums

Jascha Heifetz's Violin Bow

Jason Voorhese's Machete

Javed Iqbal's Barrel of Acid

Jay Maynard's Tron Suit

Jean II Le Maingre's Gauntlets

Jean Baptiste Charbonneau’s Cradleboard

Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin's Bubble Pipe

Jean Chastel's Silver Gun

Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin's Pocket Watch

Jean Fleury's Aztec Gold Coins

Jean-François Champollion’s Ideographic Dictionary

Jean Froissart's Mirror *

Jean-Frédéric Peugeot's Pepper Mill

Jean Hilliard’s Earmuffs

Jean Parisot de Valette’s Sword Sheath

Jean-Paul Marat's Bathtub

Jean Paul-Satre’s Paper Cutter

Jean-Pierre Christin's Thermometer

Jean Senebier's Bundle of Swiss Alpine Flowers

Jean Valnet's Aromatherapy Statue

Jean Vrolicq’s Scrimshaw

Jeanne Baret's Hat

Jeanne de Clisson's Black Fleet

Jeanne Villepreux-Power's Aquarium

Jeannette Piccard's Sandbag

Jeff Dunham's First Ventriloquist Box

Jefferson Davis' Boots

Jefferson Randolph Smith's Soap Bar

Jeffrey Dahmer's Handkerchief

Jeffrey Dahmer's Pick-Up Sticks

Jemmy Hirst's Carriage Wheel

Jenny Lind's Stage Makeup

Jeopardy! Contestant Podiums

Jerome Monroe Smucker's Canning Jars

Jerry Andrus’ Organ

Jerry Garcia's Blackbulb *

Jerry Siegel's Sketchbook

Jesse James' Saddle

Jesse James' Pistol

Jesse Owens' Hitler Oak

Jesse Owens' Running Shoes

Jesse Pomeroy's Ribbon and Spool

Jester's Mask

Jesus of Nazareth's Whip

Jesús García's Brake Wheel

Jet Engine from the Gimli Glider

Jet Glass Cicada Button

Jethro Tull's Hoe

Jeweled Scabbard of Sforza

Jiang Shunfu’s Mandarin Square

Jim Davis' Pet Carrier

Jim Fixx's Shorts

Jim Henson's Talking Food Muppets

Jim Jones' Sunglasses

Jim Londos' Overalls

Jim Robinson's Army Bag

Jim Thorpe's Shoulder Pads

Jim Ward's Piercing Samples

Jimi Hendrix's Bandana

Jimi Hendrix's Bong

Jimi Hendrix's Guitars *

Jimmie Rodgers Rail Brake

Jimmy Durante's Cigar

Jimmy Gibb Jr's Stock Car

Jimmy Hoffa's Comb

Jin Dynasty Chainwhip

Jingle Harness

Joan II, Duchess of Berry's Dress

Joan of Arc's Chain Mail

Joan of Arc's Helmet (canon)

Joan Feynman's Ski Pole

Joanna of Castile's Vase

Joan Rivers' Carpet Steamer

Joan Rivers' Red Carpet

Joe Ades's Potato Peeler

Joe Girard’s Keys

Joe Rosenthal's Camera Lens

Joel Brand's Playing Cards

Joséphine de Beauharnais' Engagement Ring

Johan Alfred Ander’s Piece of Porcelain

Johann Baptist Isenring’s Acacia Tree

Johann Bartholomaeus Adam Beringer's Lying Stones

Johann Blumhardt's Rosary

Johann Dzierzon’s Beehive Frame

Johann Georg Elser's Postcard

Johann Maelzel's Metronome *

Johann Rall's Poker Cards

Johann Tetzel's Indulgence

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's Prism

Johannes Brahms' Coffee Creamer

Johannes Diderik van der Waals' Gloves

Johannes Fabricius' Camera Obscura

Johannes Gutenburg's Memory Paper *

Johannes Gutenburg's Printing Press *

Johannes Gutenberg's Printing Press Keys

Johannes Kepler's Planetary Model

Johannes Kepler's Telescope Lense

Johannes Kjarval’s Landscape Painting

John A. Macready's Ray-Bans *

John A. Roebling's Steel Cable

John A.F. Maitland's Musical Brainnumber *

John André’s Stocking

John Anthony Walker's Minox

John Axon's Footplate

John Babbacombe Lee’s Trapdoor

John Bardeen's Radio

John Bodkin Adams’ Stethoscope

John Brown's Body *

John Brown's Machete

John C. Koss SP3 Stereophones

John C. Lilly's Isolation Tank Valve

John Cabot's Map

John Carl Wilcke's Rug *

John Crawley's Painting

John Croghan's Limestone Brick

John Dalton's Weather Vane

John Dee's Golden Talisman

John Dee's Obsidian Crystal Ball

John Dee’s Seal of God

John DeLorean's Drawing Table

John Dickson Carr's Driving Gloves

John Dillinger's Pistol *

John D. Grady’s Satchel

John D. Rockefeller's Bible

John D. Rockefeller, Sr. and Jr.'s Top Hats

John Dwight's Hammer

John F. Kennedy's Coconut

John F. Kennedy's Presidental Limousine

John F. Kennedy's Tie Clip *

John Flaxman's Casting Molds

Sir John Franklin's Scarf

John Gay's Shilling

John Gillespie Magee, Jr.'s Pen

John H. Kellogg's Bowl

John H. Kellogg's Corn Flakes

John H. Lawrence's Pacifier

John Hancock's Quill

John Harrison’s Longcase Clock

John Hawkwood’s Lance

John Hendrix's Bible

John Henry Moore's White Banner

John Henry's Sledge Hammer

John Hetherington's Top Hat

John Holland, 2nd Duke of Exeter's Torture Rack

John Holmes Pump *

John Hopoate's Cleats

John Howard Griffin's Bus Fare

John Hunter's Stitching Wire

John Hunter's Surgical Sutures

John J. Pershing's Boots

John Jacob Astor's Beaver Pelt

John Jervis’ Ship

John Joshua Webb’s Rock Chippings

John Kay's Needle

John Keat's Grecian Urn *

John, King of England's Throne

John L. Sullivan's Boots

John Langdon Down's Stencils

John Lawson's Mannequin Legs

John Lennon's Glasses

John "Liver-Eating" Johnson's Axe

John Logie Baird's Scanning Disk *

John M. Allegro's Fly Amanita

John Macpherson's Ladle

John Malcolm's Chunk of Skin

John Malcolm's Skin Wallet

John McEnroe's Tennis Racket *

John Milner's Yellow '32 Ford Deuce Coupe

John Moore-Brabazon’s Waste Basket

John Morales' McGruff Suit

John Mytton’s Carriage

John Pasche's Rolling Stones Poster Design

John Paul Jones's Sword

John Pemberton's Tasting Spoon

John Philip Sousa's Sousaphone

John Rambo's Composite Bow

John Rykener's Ring

John Shore's Tuning Fork

John Simon's Mouthwash

John Simon Ritchie's Padlock Necklace

John Smith of Jamestown's Sword

John Snow's Dot Map

John Snow’s Pump Handle

John Stapp’s Rocket Sled

John Steinbeck's Luger

John Sutcliffe's Camera

John Sutter's Pickaxe

John Tunstall's Horse Saddle

John Trumbull's "Painting of George Washington"

John von Neumann's Abacus

John Walker's Walking Stick

John Wayne Gacy's Clown Painting *

John Wayne Gacy's Facepaint

John Wesley Hardin's Rosewood Grip Pistol

John Wesley Powell's Canoe

John Wesley Powell’s Canteen

John Wilkes Booth's Boot *

John Wilkes Booth Wanted Poster

John William Polidori's Bookcase

Johnny Ace's Gun

Johnny Appleseed's Tin Pot *

Johnny Campbell's University of Minnesota Sweater

Johnny Depp's Scissor Gloves

Johnny Smith's Steering Wheel

Johnny Weismuller's Loincloth *

Joker's BANG! Revolver

Jon Stewart's Tie

Jonathan Coulton's Guitar

Jonathan R. Davis' Bowie Knife

Jonathan Shay's Copy of Iliad/Odyssey

Jonestown Water Cooler

Jorge Luis Borges' Scrapbook

José Abad Santos' Pebble

José Delgado’s Transmitter

Jose Enrique de la Pena's Chest Piece

Jōsei Toda’s Gohonzon Butsudan

Josef Frings’ Ferraiolo

Josef Mengele's Scalpel

Josef Stefan's Light Bulbs

Joseph of Arimathea's Tomb Rock

Joseph of Cupertino's Medallion *

Joseph Day's Sickle

Joseph Ducreux's Cane

Joseph Dunninger's Pocket Watch

Joseph Dunningers’ Props

Joseph E. Johnston Confederate Flag

Joseph Force Crater's Briefcases

Joseph Fourier's Pocket Knife

Joseph Glidden’s Barbed Wire

Joseph Goebbels' Radio *

Joseph Jacquard's Analytical Loom

Joseph Bolitho Johns’ Axe

Joseph Kittinger's Parachute

Joseph Lister's Padding

Joseph McCarthy's List of Communists

Joseph Merrick's Hood

Joseph-Michel Montgolfier's Wicker Basket

Joseph Moir’s Token

Joseph Pilate's Resistance Bands *

Joseph Polchinski’s Billiard Ball

Joseph Stalin's Gold Star Medal *

Joseph Stalin's Sleep Mask *

Joseph Swan's Electric Light

Joseph Vacher's Accordion

Joseph Vacher's Dog Skull

Joseph Valachi's '58 Chevrolet Impala

Josephus' Papyrus

Joseph Wolpe's Glasses

Josephine Cochrane's Dishwasher

Joshua's Trumpet *

Josiah S. Carberry's Cracked Pot

Joshua Vicks' Original Batch of Vicks Vapor Rub

Josiah Wedgewood's Medallion

Jost Burgi's Armillary Sphere *

Jovan Vladimir's Cross

Juana the Mad of Castiles' Crown

Juan Luis Vives' Quill Set

Juan Moreira’s Facón

Juan Pounce de Leon's Chalice

Juan Ponce de León's Helmet

Juan Seguin's Bandolier

Jubilee Grand Poker Chip *

Judah Loew ben Belazel's Amulet *

Judas Iscariot’s Thirty Silver Coins

Judson Laipply's Shoes

Jules Baillarger's Decanter

Jules Leotard's Trapeze Net

Jules Verne's Original Manuscripts

Julia Agrippa's Chalice

Julia Child's Apron *

Julia Child's Whisk

Julian Assange’s Flash Drive

Julie d’Aubigny's Sabre

Julius and Ethel Rosenberg's Wedding Rings

Julius Asclepiodotus’ Shield Boss

Julius Caesar's Wreath

Julius Wilbrand's Lab Coat Buttons *

Jumanji

Jumper Cables

Junji Koyama’s Vegetables

Jure Sterk's Ballpoint Pen

Jürgen Wattenberg's Leather Provision Bag

Justa Grata Honoria’s Engagement Ring

Justin Bieber's Guitar

Justinian I's Chariot Wheel

Justin O. Schmidt's Wasp Mask

Justus von Liebig's Fertilizer Sack

Justus von Liebig's Mirror

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