#Remotely Piloted Aircraft

[nocternalrandomness]

US Navy QF-4N at Luke AFB, Az - 25 OCT 1995

[rodspurethoughts]

GA-ASI Performs Cold Weather Validation Using MQ-9B SkyGuardian

Validation Flight Satisfies the Cold Weather Operational Capability Needs for Nordic Countries SAN DIEGO (Newswire.com) – General Atomics Aeronautical Systems, Inc. (GA-ASI) successfully performed Cold Weather Validation (CWV) using a company-owned MQ-9B SkyGuardian® Remotely Piloted Aircraft System (RPAS) in late Jan./early Feb. 2023, adding to the cold weather experience of the MQ-9 family of…

[historyofguns]

In the article "Flying in Alaska — The Last Frontier," Will Dabbs, MD recounts his experiences during his military service in Alaska. Despite his initial desire to be stationed in Europe, Uncle Sam sent him to Alaska, a place vastly different from his humid upbringing in the Deep South. Dabbs describes the unique and challenging conditions of Alaska, from the intense cold to the stunning natural beauty. As an operations officer and later an aviation liaison officer, he flew CH-47D Chinook helicopters across the state, participating in numerous missions, including high-altitude rescues and resupply operations. He shares vivid memories of the rugged wilderness, abundant wildlife, and the camaraderie of military life. Through these experiences, Dabbs developed a deep appreciation for Alaska, despite the hardships of service and the extreme environment.

[usafphantom2]

One of the unwritten requirements to become an SR-71 Blackbird crew member/maintainer was to have an outrageous sense of humor.

An SR-71 crew consists of a pilot and a reconnaissance systems officer (RSO).

One of the unwritten requirements to become an SR-71 crew member/maintainer was to have an outrageous sense of humor. This was displayed numerous times by flags, flunking inspections, silhouettes of U-2’s on your driveway etc.

Here’s a ifunny story by Danny C. Williams DS that appears on SR71.com website. I remember my father [Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, SR-71 RSO] telling me about this.

Drag Chute Deployed”

‘When the SR-71 lands, the Drag Chute is deployed to slow the aircraft down to taxi speeds. Then, a pickup truck races down the runway and picks up the Drag Chute, returning it to maintenance operations for repack.

‘Once upon a time at a remote operating location a few devious Crew Chiefs of the Blackbird banded together to frag a pilot. It seems this particular pilot (name withheld) was of mind and attitude of being quite superior to all lower grade maintenance personnel and he had this particular air about him that definitely was out of step with how other pilot’s treated Crew Chiefs. The camaraderie between pilots (Habu’s) of the SR-71 and ground maintenance personnel was always first rate. The rapport was always without question one of a friendly relationship.

During the preflight and preparation for this pilot’s flight the drag chute was loaded into the chute bay. A few nights earlier several Crew Chiefs had contacted the Women’s (WAF) barracks and requested some unmentionable items for a priority project concerning the Blackbird. Gleefully, the ladies knew that something was up and a quantity of items was secured for the project.

‘The Drag Chute was loaded into the SR-71 along with white pieces of clothing packed around the encased Drag Chute. Upon landing and subsequent pilot deployment of the chute (which is Orange), the chute deployed as normal and also a quantity of White Items flew all over the runway. The Transient Alert person in the chase truck inquired to the pilot of the Blackbird, if he wanted him to also pick up all the white items.

His response was silence.

‘At debriefing the pilot inquired as to what the white items were deployed on the runway. “Ladies Underwear, Sir” was the response. Had it not been for some fast talking by the Maintenance Superintendent, some disciplinary action would have been taken against those involved. However, the message was clear: pilot’s attitude adjusted and the Drag Chute compartment was never again packed with anything other than the Chute.

First-hand knowledge of this episode is denied.😊😉

@Habubrats71 via X

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 5

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 11,210

Rating: M. This one is a LOT of plot, but there's some violence / weaponry / language in it

Summary: Flying with Frankie is everything you hoped it would be - and so much more.

But the longer you're in Tampa, the more you begin to question what you're doing ... and what you're not telling him.

Confirmation on your reason for choosing Tampa comes at a cost.

Author’s note:

There was a very long delay, but lucky for you, I've got 2 more full chapters written after this ... they just need some editing, so I am well ahead of where I want to be with this one. I promise this chapter will have a follow-up VERY soon.

If you have any questions or comments or just want to talk about Frankie, please feel free to reach out. I'm SO INTERESTED in any theories you may have about where this is going, too.

... Sorry about the cliffhanger.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

He made you watch a short video presentation about helicopter safety before you stepped out onto the tarmac. 

But instead of being stock footage, it was Frankie himself going over the parts of the aircraft, and Pope demonstrating the things he was saying while someone - you assumed one of the Miller brothers - filmed with an only slightly shaky hand. 

You bit back a laugh when you realized what you were watching, bending an elbow and leaning forward to look at the TV screen, chin resting on your palm. I can’t believe this. “You’re going to miss something if you laugh.” Frankie paused the video and murmured the words from where he was standing, leaning against his desk with both arms crossed over his chest and the remote held in one hand. “And then I -”

“Frankie, how do you expect anyone to pay attention to anything when the two of you are explaining it?” Glancing over at him, you scoffed. “Two of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen in my life explaining how not to trip over the skids and that I can’t vault myself into the helicopter by holding onto the door? I -”

“Well you retained that information, so it must have worked.” He raised a brow and then pointed back at the TV with one finger of the remote hand. “Now pay attention to this next part, it’s important. Also, it took us like five takes to get it right because we were both laughing so hard.” 

The video started playing again and you watched Frankie demonstrating the harness checks, showing off just how securely passengers were fastened into the seats. Pope could probably strap himself in in his sleep. That was likely why they’d been laughing, but in an attempt to follow Frankie’s instructions, you kept quiet and focused on the screen, eyes on the way that even though you could tell it was awkward for him to be on camera, Frankie’s enthusiasm for flying shone though with every safety rule he explained. 

When the screen went dark, you were quiet for a few seconds and then turned your attention back to the man, grinning. “If you ever decide you don’t want to be a pilot, Frankie, I’m pretty sure that you’ve got a future in -”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, standing up straight and setting the remote down. He’s embarrassed but I can tell he likes it, too. “Beats havin’ to give that same talk four times a day. Cuts down on wait time before we can take off, too.” He pointed. “Usually I have a guy out there getting things ready so all we’ve gotta do is walk out and get in. But today, it’s just me.” 

“Why?” You stood, too, watching as he gestured for you to follow him toward a small set of lockers. “Won’t you need someone to -” He opened one of the lockers and you slipped your bag off from over your shoulder, sticking it inside. “To help get us off the ground and all that?” He shook his head and when you stepped back, spun the dial of the combination lock to secure it. 

“We’ll still have ATC. That’s all I need.” He put his hand on your shoulder and when you met his eyes, Frankie winked at you. “We’re good. I promise.” You trusted him, and so when you stepped outside and he locked the door behind you, you didn’t ask any questions. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” Grinning, you made your way toward the waiting helicopter - both doors open but firmly attached - Frankie directly next to you. The walk was short, and when you stopped next to the open passenger door, you felt his hand on your back, guiding you forward. “Just get in?”

“Yep.” He pushed, clearing his throat. “Go ahead and strap yourself into the front seat and then I’ll give it a once over.” You were acutely aware of his eyes on you while you settled, pulling your phone from your back pocket and reaching over to set it on Frankie’s side while you buckled in. 

You concentrated on what you were doing, wanting to impress him - and once you had all three straps fastened, you looked over, raising a brow. “Go for it, Morales. Tell me how I -” He moved while you were still speaking, stepping closer to you and reaching out with both hands. 

He was focused on what he was doing, too, but you were focused on him - the way his fingers deftly checked the straps and buckles, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips, the movement of his eyes as he assessed your status and safety. But he stayed quiet, even when he tugged on a strap to tighten it over your chest, and especially when his hands moved to your waist, fingers dipping beneath the harness to ensure it wasn’t too tight. 

“You did good.” He finally finished, raising his head to meet your eyes. “Not too loose, not too tight.” Your smile broadened at his praise, lips parting as you prepared to speak, but he didn’t let you. “I’m 80% positive you won’t fall out.” 

The smile turned into a scowl, one hand rising to shove him away, but Frankie caught that hand, fingers curling around yours and squeezing. Your breath caught in your throat when he lifted that hand toward his lips, but before he could kiss them, he froze, his eyes going wide. He let you go so quickly it was like you’d burned him, Frankie shaking his head back and forth as he stepped backwards, his fingers closing around the door handle and pushing it shut. I hope he didn’t see how disappointed I am that he stopped.

He disappeared moments later, walking around the back of the helicopter, and you realized he was taking a few extra seconds to compose himself. Shit. He didn’t need to stop. He … You heard him swear, though the sound was muffled, and when the man appeared by the other door, you saw resolve in his eyes. “I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t professional, and I -” Oh, Frankie. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” Shrugging your shoulders, you pointed. “Can you hand me my phone, though? I don’t want you to sit on it.” He looked relieved as he did what you asked, passing you the phone - which you tucked between your knees - before taking his seat and reaching for his own harness straps. 

He was quick with them, the muscles in his arms flexing and once again capturing your attention. But you were unprepared for him to turn his head toward you, tongue running along his lower lip before he spoke up. “Sunglasses?” Shit, I knew I forgot something in my car. 

“They’re in my glovebox.” You sighed. “Whoops.” He grinned, reaching down and unzipping a pouch between the seats. “I’ll be alright, Frankie, I -”

“You’ll need ‘em. Trust me.” Frankie nodded, holding out a pair of aviators to you - black lenses with gold frames. You took them from him and slipped them on, turning your head to the side and watching him put on a second pair. “You look better in those than I ever did.” So he’s still flirting, but … “And then you’ll need to put these on, too.” Frankie reached for one of the headsets near the console, passing it to you. “Otherwise we won’t be able to talk while we’re in the air.” He reached for his set then, his gaze breaking away from yours. 

Settling them over your ears, everything was muffled, but only moments later, after he started flipping switches and pushing buttons, you heard Frankie’s voice again, talking to what you assumed was the airport tower and beginning preflight communication. Getting comfortable, you leaned back in your chair and waited, your excitement building. 

The almost-knuckle kiss had been a blip on the day, but Frankie seemed to have recovered as he settled into a routine that he’d done countless times before, his confidence filling the small space  that you were sharing. 

“You ready?” He looked over, the man’s smile infectious. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

“Ready.” You held up your phone. “Can I take a picture of y -”

“I’ll take one in the air for you.” He nodded, and though his eyes were hidden behind tinted lenses of his own, you knew that the corners of his eyes were crinkled. Wish I could see that. “Alright, here we go.” 

There were a few seconds of shakiness as you rose off of the ground, the whirring of the blades above your head thrumming through the helicopter. Things evened out as you gained altitude, everything beneath you growing smaller except for the expanse of water, the surface of it glittering in late afternoon sunlight. “It’s gorgeous, Frankie. You leaned forward as much as you could with your restraints, eyes on the view in front of you, but you were speechless. 

You’d been on aerial tours before, but you hadn’t done it over water, making the experience entirely new for you. “It is.” He nodded, the motion visible in your peripheral vision. “We’ll head north so you can see the skyline and a couple of the parks and then circle back around west to the Bay.” 

You agreed, turning you camera on, and pointing it toward the windshield. For the next few minutes, you focused on what you could see - the buildings growing larger and closer, the scenery whipping by beneath you, and Frankie’s hands on the control stick and collective. He was in full control, and you were in awe of it, managing to sneak in a couple of pictures of him with the others you took. “On the right’s Lower Hillsborough, and then on the left, the other side of the highway?” He gestured with one finger, jutting his chin out. “Cypress Creek.” 

As you approached, you felt your heart sink. They’re both huge. I’ll never be able to narrow it down enough. It was beautiful though, the greenery stretching out almost as far as you could see. “I didn’t realize they were connected.”

“Yep.” He nodded, glancing over at you. “And there’s a campground at Hillsborough where Benny’s buddy does the tours from.” He pointed. “Starts up north, and comes down back toward where we are.” Good to know. You made a note in your app and then set your phone down, keeping your eyes forward. “It’s a lot of fun. I think you’ll like it.” 

“I’m sure I will.” You paused, thinking. “Since it’s Benny’s buddy, does that mean he’d be going with me?” 

“If you want.” Frankie looked over, shrugging. “I already told you, we’re all more than happy to keep you company.” What if I wanted it to be you that kept me company? “Gonna swing back around now, alright?” 

You agreed, shifting in your seat, and for the next few minutes you watched the sprawl of Tampa’s suburbs pass beneath you, the edge of the Bay looming in the distance. That attention turned to Frankie, though, when you noticed that the sunlight was changing, brightness dimming slightly. Is it already… “Frankie, did you time this so that…” 

“Maybe.” He smiled then - a wide one that lifted his cheeks, the man’s dimple on full display. “Definitely.” 

“I…” You didn’t know what to say, so you kept quiet, watching as you got closer to the Bay and the sun setting on the horizon. This is why I needed sunglasses. Lifting one hand, you bit down on your knuckle, phone forgotten as you eyed the sky’s changing colors. He stayed quiet, too, but your eyes drifted from the windshield to Frankie after a few minutes, the man silhouetted in light, his profile defined. 

Your breath caught again, and as your lips pressed together to keep from letting out a gasp, you nodded twice. He did this for me and yet he stopped himself earlier. It makes no sense. You understood that he could simply write off the sunset flight as wanting to promote the business and give you a good flight for your first one, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. 

“Hope you don’t mind we’ll be in the air for a little longer than you thought.” He looked over at you, his smile soft. “Figured you’d like to see the Gulf from a different viewpoint.” Your jaw dropped, Frankie’s smile growing. “And sunset’s the best time to do it.” 

When the Gulf came into view a minute or so later, you let out a surprised “oh!”, eyes widening. “Frankie it’s… wow.” He nodded, continuing to fly straight out and over the water, the waves there a little larger than the others you’d seen earlier. All you could see were water and sky, and in that moment, you understood why Frankie loved flying so much. If this is what he can see here, I can only imagine what he’s gotten to see in other places. “Thank you, Francisco.” You spoke quietly, hoping that he could hear you. “This is …”

You took a few pictures, but didn’t even know if they were in focus or not, and then switched to a video, panning across the interior of the helicopter and making sure to get him in there, too. He made a wide turn while you filmed, putting your side of the helicopter toward the sunset, and then, for the first time, he took one hand off the control, pointing at you. “Lemme have that.” 

You switched to the camera and then handed it to him, Frankie leaning in and you doing the same, the man’s thumb flipping the camera so that your faces appeared on the screen. He took a few - both of your smiles wide - and then handed the camera back, returning his hand to its previous position. “Hey, Frankie, look at me.” 

You took one from your side, the lighting much different, and then put the phone down again, deciding that you were just going to enjoy the remainder of the flight. I can’t believe he did this. As the sun continued to set, you glanced down, heart thumping. All he can do is tell me to stop, right? You reached over, settling your hand on Frankie’s arm and curling your fingers around it. 

He didn’t move. You felt his muscles tense - and then he relaxed, his shaky exhale and a hum of approval audible through the headphones. Neither of you spoke after that, and you focused on what you could see through the windows - shades of blue and pink and orange in the sly blending together as the golden orb sunk toward the horizon, casting the day’s final brightness across the waves. It was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen, and you fought against a lump in your throat as you thought about your situation. 

You were lying to Frankie - and his friends. You weren’t quite using them, but by being dishonest, you were cheapening the experiences you had with them, including the one with Frankie that day. Yes, you were writing the book and updating the site, but it wasn’t the whole truth, and you knew that if Frankie ever found out, he’d be upset. And so would his friends. 

In previous cities, you’d rationalized it by reminding yourself that telling the truth would lead to people shying away from you in disbelief and labeling you crazy, and you didn’t think that would be any different in Florida. But this is the first time I feel bad about lying. 

Frankie’s arm shifted beneath your touch, and you felt the helicopter turn again, putting him between you and the sunset, and without even thinking about it, you swung your head in that direction. It gave you a reason to look at him, and though you knew that he knew that it was happening, he didn’t react. The man’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm under the dark t-shirt he was wearing, his breathing even. I won’t be here long enough for it to matter. 

You kept your hand in place until Frankie swung the helicopter again, the flight path carrying you back toward the airport, but neither of you said anything else. 

The landing was smooth, Frankie putting you down a little closer to the building than you had been on takeoff. You watched in awe as he worked, his concentration never wavering until he’d flipped the engine off, silence surrounding you and made somehow deeper by the headset you still wore. 

You removed yours when he reached for his, hanging them back on the small hook in front of you, and then reached for the harness buckles, undoing them in reverse order. It was Frankie that broke the silence first, the man reaching up to remove his hat and run his fingers through his hair. “I’ll take you back inside and open that locker so you can get going before I come back out and do my post-flight check.” He nodded, glancing over. “That alright with you?” 

“Yep.” Reaching for the door handle, you pushed it open and then carefully climbed out, wobbling slightly when your feet made contact with the ground. Frankie joined you seconds later, the two of you making your way back to the door of his office silently. 

It wasn’t a tense silence, but you could feel that he was waiting for something, and as he twisted the knob, you decided to break the tension. “That was really amazing, Frankie. The view was … I wasn’t expecting the sunset or for us to be up there for so long, so you’ve … it’ll be hard to top that.” 

“Just doing my job.” He gestured for you to walk into his office, following close behind. “But that was a really great sunset, right?” 

“It was. Do you do a lot of the sunset -”

“Not like that.” He shook his head, taking the final steps toward the lockers and tossing his hat onto his desk. “Not as a surprise. My clients usually… they book a specific thing, and I stick to it.” You watched his back - shoulders pulling the material of the shirt tight over them. “But you seemed pretty open to whatever kind of flight I thought would be best, so…” 

The locker popped open, Frankie moving off to the side for you. “You were right, it was great.” Stepping forward, you reached for your bag and then stopped, turning the top half of your body toward him. “I do need to tell you, though, that a surprise sunset helicopter tour is pretty romantic. So I’m surprised you did that, especially after you stopped yourself from kissing my -” 

He moved again, Frankie stepping forward and then using both arms to cage you in against the still-closed lockers. The man lowered his head to press his lips against yours, sucking in a quick breath at the last second. The motion was swift but the kiss was not, the pressure of his mouth gentle as he made contact, though he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to deepen it. Oh. Oh, alright. You wrapped your arms around him and sighed, feeling relief that he’d been the one to make the first move that day. I wanted to, but … 

He backed away, just enough that you could see his eyes, and when Frankie opened his mouth to speak, you cut him off with a single shake of your head. “Don’t you dare apologize for that. I wanted it just as much as you.” He was surprised for a moment, the look in his eyes changing to something you’d never seen in them before - and then Frankie kissed you again, taking another half step forward so that his entire body was pressed to yours. 

He bit your lower lip that time, the pinch of pain causing your lips to part and giving his tongue an opening, Frankie slipping it through to meet yours. But that kiss was short and messy, one of his hands moving from the lockers to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and squeezing, the man groaning out your name when he pulled away a second time. “Wasn’t going to apologize,” he mumbled, lips trailing over your cheek and to your ear. “Was just gonna see if you were interested in continuing it somewhere else.” Somewhere else? “My truck’s outside, and my house is -”

“There’s a desk right there.” Your eyes flicked toward it and then back to Frankie’s, unblinking. “That’s good enough for me.” 

— 

In the days that followed your first flight - and second night spent - with Frankie, you settled into a routine in Florida. 

You spent your days exploring and researching, some of the guys joining you on hikes and excursions, pointing out restaurants and places to visit as they drove you around. They were animated, all three of them truly welcoming you into the little circle they’d formed in their Delta Force days. It made you happy to be included, because they were all just as friendly and genuine as they’d been the first night you met. 

They made you feel safe, too, ensuring you didn’t get lost in parks and nature preserves, or go too far out of your way when you were searching for things to see and do. And there was no shortage of stories told, either, Benny and Will and Pope telling you all about each other 

The only one you didn’t see on your own was Tom, and that was because of all five of them, he never reached out the way the others did. That was fine with you; he’d been friendly enough, but you could tell that he had little interest in getting to know you, even on a limited basis. 

And when it came to you and Frankie, you settled into that routine easily, too. You didn’t see him every day, and every time you were together didn’t lead to sex, but what you had between you was comfortable. You talked every day, though, text and voice messages sent back and forth while you were taking a break from whatever it was you were doing and he was between flights, and one long phone conversation while he was on his way to drive and see Carmen. 

You were closer to Frankie than you had been to anyone that you could remember. 

Even though you knew that would make finishing your assignment and leaving Florida hurt, you did nothing to keep yourself from deepening the connection. There were times when you wanted to tell him what you were really doing in Florida - usually when the two of you were curled up on the couch together, the TV playing quietly in the background, or when you were eating dinner together, recapping your days. 

But you never did. Common sense and concern over pushing him away outweighed the desire to be honest. So you kept what you were really in Florida for from Frankie in an attempt to keep at least some semblance of what you were used to intact for as long as you possibly could. 

By the morning of your third flight, you still hadn’t heard from Alec, though you’d seen your aunt post a picture of the three of them on her Facebook, their smiles broad. So you knew that not only had they made it to Nevada - she also knew about the pregnancy. Good for them. 

There was only a week until the next full moon, and you’d narrowed down the places you thought most likely for the wolf’s probable location from six to three, based solely on the previous attacks. One of them - Green Swamp - was where Frankie would be taking you that afternoon, but the problem was that it was so large, there were multiple campgrounds to choose from. 

You planned on asking Frankie which one was the most popular, but before you could even get the words out, he was wrapping you in his arms and kissing you hello, zero hesitation when it came to being affectionate with you. “We’ve gotta be on a little more of a tight schedule today.” He stepped away from you, resituating the hat on his head. “I have a flight after yours.” 

His eyes moved from your face to his desk, one hand reaching out to touch the wood. I wonder how often he thinks about that afternoon. “No defiling the desk today. Got it.” Wrinkling your nose, you gestured to the lockers. “Same one as usual?” He nodded and you twisted the combination lock into the correct series of numbers, stuffing your bag inside and  then shutting it, sunglasses held in your right hand. “Remembered them today.” 

He grinned at you and then reached out, waiting for you to take his hand. When the two of you stepped out into the sunshine, you turned your face up and toward it briefly, inhaling. “Do you want to have dinner tonight?” Frankie urged you forward, clearing his throat. “I have late flights a couple days next week, and my schedule’s packed because of all the people getting last minute vacations in before school starts again, so …” He waited for you to climb in and then leaned forward, reaching for the harness straps before you had the chance. “So it might be kind of hard to see each other, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m blowing you off.” 

You didn’t reply right away, instead focused on how quickly he got you strapped in, his fingers trailing over the straps - and in turn, your chest before dropping lower, pulling the one between your legs up and buckling it. “Dinner sounds good.” You nodded, waiting for him to look back at you. “Want me to cook?” Frankie shook his head and then leaned in, lips landing on your cheek. 

“Nope. Ironhead invited us to the bar.”

“Us?” He nodded, smiling as he backed away and shut the door, walking around the front of the helicopter and climbing in beside you. “I’m included in that now?”

“You are.” He handed you the headset and then put his on, leaning forward to flip a few switches after strapping himself in. “They’re not stupid. They know we’ve spent a lot of time together over the past couple weeks.” He pressed another button and spoke to air traffic, and then you watched him nod, switching the channel back, placing his hands on the controls. “So yeah, when he texted me earlier, he invited you, too… by name.”

You grinned at that, taking a deep breath as you lifted off of the ground and rose into the sky, Frankie maneuvering the aircraft just as smoothly as he had the previous two times. It was a twenty minute ride to the preserve, but you and Frankie filled it with conversation - the man pointing out landmarks every now and then and you making note of them, though you kept your eyes on what was in front of you for most of the flight. 

“So, Frankie…” You settled back against the seat, turning your head toward him. “Green Swamp is one of the places I want to camp. I know there are a ton of places in the preserve, but … what’s the best? Do you know? I want something that’s sort of … out of the way, you know? Isolated? Where it’d be really quiet?” He didn’t reply right away, but when he did,  he looked over at you smiling. 

“Our RV is actually permanently parked in Richloam.” His smile widened when your jaw dropped. “You’re right. There are plenty of places to camp, but we picked one that was pretty out of the way, and Pope talked the guy into renting out a space year round. There’s no generator or electric hookup or anything like that, we just use the RV itself and have a couple backup batteries and solar panels.” No, shit. “I’d be more than happy to take you up there, whenever you want to.” 

“Just not next week.” He nodded, returning his attention to the window. “Hmm.” You leaned forward as the city thinned out, an expanse of trees and other greenery appearing in front of you. “Whoa, that’s huge.” You blinked a few times in disbelief. “Frankie, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“It’s probably the biggest in the area. I’m not completely sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” He pointed. “Our RV’s at the north end, about an hour from home.” That’s not too far. “But if you’ve got someone that knows the area, it’s easier.” He veered off to the right, flying on the edge of the trees, and you looked out your window, eyeing the greenery below you. “If you wanted to get out here next weekend, I can probably …” He sighed. “You can ask Benny tonight. I think he’s…. Free next week. I know you probably won’t want to wait, but …”

“I’ll wait for you, Frankie.” Reaching over, you squeezed his wrist, careful not to jostle the control. “Unless it’ll be weeks, because in that case …” In that case, I could be onto something else, and … “Or I could just come out here by myself during the week sometime, you know? I don’t want to invite myself, but I also don’t want to inconvenience anyone, and …” 

“No.” He shook his head, his tone harder than you’d ever heard it. “Explaining how to get to the site is a little difficult, and the last thing I want is to have to send a search team out for you because you got turned around. Reception’s kind of shitty.” It made sense, but it was still disappointing. He’s just looking out for me. “We’re gonna turn back now, otherwise we’ll be flying straight to Disney.” 

“Ooh, that would be fun.” You laughed, nudging him with one elbow. “I’ll parachute out when we’re over Magic Kingdom.” 

“The Mouse Police would be all over that. And me, too.” He shook his head, frowning. “That is a definite no fly zone.” You laughed again, Frankie swinging the helicopter back and pointing it in the direction you’d come from. “You going to Disney while you’re here? I know you won’t put that in the notes or anything, but I don’t know if you’ve ever been.” 

“I have once, when I was a kid. I bet it’s a lot different now, but …” You shook your head. “I’m not sure I’ll have time, Frankie. I’m only here for three months, and … I have a lot to do.” 

“We could plan something toward the end of your stay.” He sighed. “Becca and I took Carmen earlier this year, and she loved it. Her boyfriend wasn’t too thrilled we were spending a weekend together, even though we had separate rooms and only saw each other in the parks, but that was something we wanted to do as a family.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Point is, you can’t go to Epcot and drink around the world with a toddler, so…” He looked over at you, his unease turning into amusement. “If you were into that, it would be a lot of fun.” 

“It would.” Is he asking me to go to Disney with just him? That would be … an overnight stay if we were drinking and there’s multiple parks so that would mean a couple days, and … “If you can get the time off of work.” 

“I think my boss would approve it.” You both laughed at that, and then it was Frankie’s turn to reach over and squeeze your knee - only briefly - before he put his hand back on the control. “Think about it, alright?” You nodded and told him you would, but for the rest of the flight back, the word liar repeated over and over in your mind. 

— 

He’d kissed you goodbye quickly once you were back on the ground, but there wasn’t time for much else - the helicopter needed to be looked over and refueled, and Frankie’s employee was impatient. 

He promised to pick you up on his way to Ironhead’s and you parted ways, but you didn’t go directly back to the apartment. Instead, you drove around aimlessly, fingertips drumming against the steering wheel. 

There was a chance - a small one, admittedly - that after the following week, you’d be on your way out of Florida and finding somewhere to regroup. I could stay here. Chewing on your lip as you sat at a stoplight, you closed your eyes. “No, I couldn’t. If I kill a wolf, I have to leave.” 

You’d never been in the scenario before, but you assumed that if you found and eliminated the wolf, others would come to check it out - and to look for you. You had no interest in sticking around long enough to find out if that was true or not, and so the plan was always to finish your business and then skip town if you ever made good on your mission’s objective. But I’ve never had anyone to leave before. 

Pressing on the gas, you drove through the light, Frankie’s smiling face flashing in your mind. He wasn’t yours to leave, but sneaking out under the cover of darkness without saying goodbye was one of the most unappealing thoughts you’d ever had. There was no way to explain yourself without clueing him in on your real reason for being in Tampa, and if you did that, it would potentially put him in danger, something else that you didn’t want to do. 

Even if he didn’t believe you, simply putting the idea into his head was dangerous. “And that’s why I can’t tell him anything.” Blowing out a breath, you nodded. “That’s why I’m lying.” It was a flimsy excuse, but it was enough. “And there’s no way I’ll figure this out in a week anyway, so I don’t have to think about leaving yet.” 

That was almost a certainty - you were closer than you had been but nowhere near close enough, and with all of the green, swampy spaces you’d seen over the previous few weeks, you figured it would take you at least one more moon cycle to narrow things down. And that means another month of … “Another month of Frankie.” 

— 

He picked you up a little before 7 that night, Frankie getting out of the truck and walking to the door to knock. You did a double take when you saw him standing outside, your mouth falling open in surprise. “You shaved.” 

Frankie reached up and rubbed at his chin with his fingertips, nodding. “Just trimmed it a little. Why? Don’t you like it?” It made him look much younger, and though you missed the full scruff, you had to admit that he looked good with shorter facial hair, too - which you admitted to him, the man’s cheeks reddening with the compliment. 

“Have you ever thought about just the mustache?” Walking beside him, you headed for his truck. “Getting rid of the beard and the sideburns and all of it?”

“Yeah. I’ve done it before. I look about twelve.” You snorted, stopping at the front of the truck while Frankie did the same, leaning against the hood. “I went out on a date a couple years ago and the woman said she preferred no facial hair, so …” He shrugged. “We went out on one date, and I haven’t done that shit since.” 

“I’d never ask you to shave, Frankie.” You wrinkled your nose, reaching out and pinching his cheek. “Even though now that I know you’ve got these cheeks hidden under all that, I’m never going to let you forget it.” He rolled his eyes but you saw his lips twitch in amusement at the same time. “Same with your hair.” 

“Yeah?” The two of you climbed in, and when you were on the road, he glanced over and continued. “What about it?” 

“I like the way it curls.” You shrugged, resting your elbow on the door, hand dangling over your lap. “I bet, too, you like it long after so many years of keeping it short.” He nodded in agreement, looking back over at you. 

“Yeah. That was one of the best parts about gettin’ out and taking on private assignments. No one gave a shit about the length of my hair as long as I got my job done.” He went quiet then, reaching over to flip the volume on the radio up, and for the rest of the ride to the bar, you were both quiet, aside from him humming along to the music. 

You were stunned at how natural it felt to be with him and joke with him. It didn’t feel like you’d only known him for a few weeks, and once you’d gotten past pretending that you didn’t want to continue your physical relationship with each other, it was like a flip switched. 

The attraction was still there on an almost constant basis, but instead of forcing yourselves not to act on it, both of you let it free. He touched you often - a hand on your back, sliding his fingers between yours, draping his arm around your shoulders when you were sitting next to each other - and Frankie looked at you like he wanted you, even when you were doing mundane things. 

And you were more open with your flirting; complimenting the man at every chance you got, running your fingertips along the back of his neck, and making it apparent that you were into him, especially when you were around people that both of you knew. 

It wasn’t that you were trying to prove a point or keep anyone else from showing interest in you, because with the exception of the first night - and genuine friendliness and honesty, not even Benny had tried to flirt. You were doing it because you wanted to - and because you could feel the confidence boost it gave Frankie each time. 

His friends didn’t give you a hard time about it, either, and you wondered if the same was true for Frankie when he saw them without you around, though you didn’t want to ask. 

“C’mere.” He leaned over after parking, tipping your chin up with two fingers. “Before we go inside…” Nodding, you leaned closer and closed your eyes, warmth of his exhale hitting your lips moments before the kiss began. 

It was a tender one, and one that you nudged further, drawing his lip between yours and then licking along the seam, Frankie’s palm moving to the back of your neck and his fingers spread wide to keep you close. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking amazing at that?” You whispered the words when you pulled apart, your eyelids fluttering open. “Because you are, Frankie. I could kiss you until -” 

“You know you don’t have to stroke my ego, right?” He pulled his hat off and combed his hair back with one hand before settling it back into place. “I’m already planning on taking you home with me tonight.” You snorted, reaching for the door handle. 

“Fine. I won’t ever give you a compliment again. You suck at kissing, Frankie. The worst. In fact, I -”

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, and you’re a goddamn liar.” He climbed out, peeking back into the cab. “Now come on, I want a beer.” 

Hurrying to catch up with him, you met him just before he opened the door, Frankie putting his arm around your waist and guiding you through the crowd. 

Pope, Will and Benny were already sitting in one of the booths, but to your surprise there was another person there, too - Tom. 

You slid into the open space next to Pope, Frankie taking a seat next to you. Before you could even say hello, a full glass was pushed in front of you, Benny grinning from across the table. “Finally. Do we need to check the parking lot security cameras? Are we going to see anything that we don’t want to?”

“Yeah.” You took a sip, cocking your head to the side. “And if there’s volume, you might even get to hear me telling him that he’s shit at -”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Frankie reached for the pitcher, pouring himself a drink and taking a long sip while his friends laughed, Tom’s focus on the two of you. “Is there food coming, or should I go to the bar and order?” 

“We ordered.” Will waved his hand, shaking his head. “But if you want something that’s not an appetizer, you’ll have to go up and talk to Kay.” Frankie looked at you expectantly, and when you nodded, he stood again, staring down at the table. 

“Text me what you want and I’ll order ‘em together.” He looked at his friends. “Anything else? More beer?” Pope asked for another pitcher while you started typing, and it was only after Frankie had walked away that anyone else spoke, Tom licking his lips and saying your name. 

“Looks like you and ‘Fish are getting along well.” 

“We are.” You took another sip, setting your phone down. “We went on our third flight today, which was the last one I had scheduled. Went up toward the Green Swamp, and he said that’s where your RV is?” Pope nodded, and so did Tom, his thumb running up and down along the side of his beer glass. “I told him I wanted to camp up there at some point, but he said to wait so I could stay at the RV, and he’s busy all next week, so it’ll have to be after that.”

“Busy with what?” Tom frowned, a confused look on his face. “He doesn’t fly at night, and -”

“All the last minute vacations, Redfly.” Frankie slid back into the booth next to you, clearing his throat. “I opened up my bookings a couple extra hours a day until he second week of September, and then I’m taking little while off.” He took a drink, licking his lips clean. “Give myself a break before the holiday travel starts.” He’s taking a break? That means … 

It meant that after the second August full moon, if you were still in Tampa, you’d be able to spend more time with Frankie. But why didn’t he say anything til now? “A break? You never do that.” Tom scratched the side of his head. “Any special reason?” 

“Because he’s been flying almost nonstop since last winter?” Pope spoke up, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. “We’ve all gotten to take time off in the last few years, except ‘Fish here, who…” Pope snorted. “He’s spent more time in the air since we got back from Colombia than he did the entire time he was enlisted.” The other guys laughed, too, Frankie casting a grateful look at his friend. “Good. Maybe with some time off, we can go do something fun.” 

“Like what?” Benny leaned closer. “Vegas? Mexico? Fuckin’ Barcelona?” 

“I suggested going to Disney a couple hours ago.” Frankie sniffed, taking another drink. “Last time I went, I was with my daughter, and that was great, but …” He smiled, looking over at you. “But I think it would be even more fun with other adults.” 

“Fuck yeah it would.” Pope’s grin was infectious, the man leaning closer to Frankie. “Yovanna would probably love that, unless it’s just for us guys, and -”

“There are plenty of hotels.” Will spoke up, swiping a hand through his short hair. “And I’m sure Tanya would want to come too. What about Molly, Tom? Could the two of you get away from Tessa for the weekend?” 

“Probably.” He took a long drink, nodding. “Would depend on when, though. Closer it gets to the holidays, the more shit we have to do with her family, so I can’t promise anything.” Everyone murmured in reply, beginning to talk over plans, but Frankie leaned in, whispering into your ear. 

“You’re invited too, in case you were wondering.” He nudged you with his shoulder, and then reached for your hand under the table. “And now I kinda roped you in, so…” 

“We’ll see.” Lips twitching, you squeezed his hand. “Thanks for putting me on the spot.” He laughed, straightening back up and letting go of your hand. 

“You’re welcome. And I’m about to do it again.” What? But before you could question him, Frankie reached over and threw a peanut at Benny, saying the younger man’s name. “Did you ever get ahold of the guy at Hillsborough with the boat?”

“I did!” He slapped his hand on the tabletop, looking from Frankie to you. “He said you can stop by whenever, it’s been pretty slow this month so far. All I’ve gotta do is let him know when, and you’re good to go.” 

“Really?” He nodded. “Thank you, Benny, I’ll figure it out, and let you know. Can I go out at night? That would be pretty neat. Maybe next week sometime?” You narrowed your eyes, pretending to think. “Isn’t there a full moon? You’d probably be able to see a lot on the water like that.” 

“There is.” Frankie spoke up, nodding. “Wednesday, maybe?” He pulled his lower lip back between his teeth, thinking. “I wouldn’t be able to go that night, since it’s about 35 minutes away and by the time we were done and home, I’d be in no shape to fly the next morning.” Pope nodded slowly, glancing over at Tom and then Will. “What about you, Benjamin?” 

Your attention moved between the blonde men, lingering on the younger one, Benny nodding thoughtfully. “I mean… yeah. I don’t have anything going on. Let me get ahold of Manny, and I’ll let you know, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” He nodded at you, his smile growing. “Can I have your number so we don’t have to play telephone through ‘Fish?” His eyes flicked over toward Frankie as he spoke, Benny winking at the other man before looking back at you. 

“Of course.” You recited it to him, waiting to see a text come through to confirm that you had his in return. “Thank you, Benny.” He held up his beer, nodding, and then the six of you were interrupted by the approach of two servers, their trays laden with food. 

“See?” Frankie leaned in again, his hand resting on your thigh. “Told you you’d always have one of us around.” 

— 

You had to admit that the airboat was a lot cooler than you’d imagined it to be, though it was no less terrifying. 

Benny showed up at your door late Wednesday afternoon, the man grinning from ear to ear, and escorted you to his car, talking a mile a minute. 

It was much different from the time you spent with Frankie, and even though you’d grown accustomed to the pilot’s personality, Benny’s was a welcome change. 

He’d kept you talking the entire way to the campground - mostly about your book and website, but he also threw in a few stories about the other guys, too, specifically Frankie and Will. It was like the two of you were old friends, and by the time he pulled a small duffel bag out of the backseat and the two of you headed for the dock, you felt a slight pang of annoyance that you hadn’t made as much of an effort to spend time with the younger Miller brother outside of him accompanying you on research missions. If I stay longer, maybe … maybe that can change. 

It was nothing like the attraction you felt toward Frankie, but you gladly took Benny’s hand when he helped you onto the boat, introducing you to his friend. 

The moon was just beginning to rise, and as the three of you got situated, you looked up, smiling at the sight of it. This is one of the locations I narrowed it down to. Maybe … maybe we’ll see something. “Alright, some rules.” Manny stood behind the two of you, hands on his hips. “Stay seated, even when we’re stopped or just driftin’.” You nodded and so did Benny, waiting for him to continue. “You’ll want to wear the ear protection, because this fan is loud.” Both of you nodded again. “When we stop, you can take it off if you want. That way you’ll be able to hear all the critters.” 

“Sounds good.” Benny nodded. “Anything else?” 

“Make sure you put on your bug spray, and I’d recommend long sleeves.” You already had your arms covered, but Benny didn’t, the blonde unzipping his bag and pulling out a hoodie. “Also, just a warning - there is a rifle on board. We shouldn’t need it, but …” But what? Your eyes widened, a breath sticking in your throat. “Just in case.” 

Only a few minutes later, you were underway, gliding away from the dock and toward the trees, the moonlight shining over the water and illuminating the area in front of you. There was no point in having your phone out, because it was too dark to take photos, so you focused instead on the water and what little of the shoreline you could see in the shadows. 

It was thrilling to feel the breeze against your face, and for a few minutes, you let yourself relax, leaning back into your seat while you scanned the area ahead of you. You felt Benny’s hand on your arm a while later, the man pointing with his other hand. When you followed the direction of it, you saw pinpricks of light at the surface of the water, gasping when you realized that they were eyes. Alligators. There are alligators ten feet from me, and … You shivered, though you leaned closer, Benny doing the same thing next to you. 

The boat kept moving, though it moved much slower, giving you a chance to take in your surroundings. Manny shined a light ahead of you, and you froze at just how many pairs of glowing eyes you saw, glancing over to see the look on Benny’s face. He was grinning, his head shaking back and forth in delight. 

You stopped a little while after that, the motion of the boat ceasing, and when you reached up to take the headphones off, you were stunned at how loud the animals around you were - the buzz and hum of cicadas, crickets chirping, the low croaks of frogs; you even heard the hoot of an owl in the distance. “Listen to that.” Benny spoke from next to you, voice low. “Reminds me of the jungle.” 

You looked over and saw that he was focused on the water in front of you, lips set into a frown. “It’s louder than I thought it would be.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything else, and when you heard something splash close by, your attention went there, eyes skipping over the moonlit surface and looking for ripples. 

“Do you want to keep going?” Manny spoke from behind you, waiting until you both turned to look to continue. “I can start the fan again, or we can keep drifting.” 

“You choose.” Benny shrugged. “I’m good either way.” 

“Can we just drift for a little while? This is relaxing.” Manny agreed, and the three of you sat in silence for long moments, staring at the darkness around you. “How many tours do you usually do every day?”

“One or two.” You turned back to look at him while he spoke, the man gesturing with one hand. “Most of ‘em during the day. Special cases closer to sundown. It’s harder to see at night, so this is a special favor for Miller here, but the moon makes it a lot easier.” You glanced up at his words, noting how the light filtered in through the breaks in the tree branches above you. “I have busier times, though. We have two boats, and -”

He was interrupted by a loud splash that sounded close, followed by a low growling noise that turned into what sounded like a motorcycle. Shit, what… “It’s fine.” Benny leaned over, settling his hand on your knee. “Just a gator.” The sound continued, Manny confirming Benny’s statement as other ‘voices’ joined the chorus, and even though your heart was racing, you felt excitement at the experience. This is really fucking cool. Not what I’m looking for, but… 

The rumbling roars continued as you drifted along with the current, and when you glanced over at Benny, he was grinning right back at you, his eyes wide with excitement. “Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“Not at night.” He shook his head. “Not like -” 

But then it was Benny that was cut off when another sound pierced the air, and you watched his expression change, his lips parting in shock. That’s not a gator. Your head whipped to the right and toward where you thought it was coming from as the sound carried through the air again - the unmistakable howl of a wolf somewhere in the distance. 

It was sustained, long and low, and you heard Manny swearing from behind you, the man scrambling in his seat. “Benny? What is that?” You asked the question even though you already knew, head shaking back and forth. “It sounds like a -”

“A coyote. Maybe a panther. It’s -” 

“That isn’t a panther. They scream, not howl.” Manny’s tone was serious, and when you looked back, you saw that he had the rifle in his hands, though his finger wasn’t on the trigger. “That sounds like a -” A second howl cut through the air, though that one sounded a little different than the first, the pitch higher. Two? There are two? 

“We’re hearin’ things.” Benny shook his head, eyes narrowed. “There’s no wolves in Florida. It can’t be -” But the sound came again, then, louder and closer, and when Benny moved that time, it was to reach for the bag he’d brought on board. The man’s hand dove in and came back out, fingers curled around the grip of some sort of handgun. Why did he bring a gun? You blinked quickly, an icy chill coursing through your body. 

It was possible that he’d brought it for the same reason Manny had - in case the gators got too close to the boat. But the other possibility was that Benny had anticipated another kind of danger during the ride, and had wanted to be prepared. There are a ton of animals in these swamps, so it’s possible, and… “Benny, why do you have a -”

“Keep that handy, Miller.” Manny spoke up as the howling continued, the man’s voice quiet but somewhat calmer. “I’m going to start the fan again and get us back to the dock.” 

“Yes, sir.” Benny nodded in agreement and then reached up to flip the brim of his hat backward, clearing his field of vision. His posture was relaxed, though you knew he was anything but, and you opted to stay quiet - heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’d moved closer to you, angling his body so that he could watch more of the shoreline, and you were thankful for it, though there was as large part of you that felt vindicated. 

It’s a wolf. There aren’t wolves in Florida, and that means … that means I was right. That means… The howling was cut off by the sound of the fan, and you blinked in surprise when a second spotlight turned on, aimed toward land. That’s fucking bright. Manny smoothly turned you back around, Benny’s position shifting again to partially block you from the side of the riverbank you were closest to. 

Wincing, you covered your ears with the protection again, reaching into your back pocket for your phone. You thought about texting Frankie, and then decided not to, instead bringing up Alec’s contact and typing out a message before hitting send and praying that you had enough bars to get it through. I’m on an airboat in the middle of the Hillsborough River and there is a wolf howling in the distance. I was fucking right.

When you pulled up to the dock, Manny cut the fan off again, anchoring the boat. You ripped off your ear protection, setting it down on the bench to the seat’s right. There were no sounds aside from the nighttime creatures, and when the men nodded at each other, you all stood, gathering your things and beelining it for the small building that acted as the tour office. The three of you listened intently as you moved, Benny in front of you and the other man behind. 

Once inside, Benny locked the door and pressed his back against it, he gun still held tightly in one hand. “We all fuckin’ heard that, right?” 

“Yes.” You swallowed hard, nodding. “It sounded like a wolf. But there aren’t any here, like Manny said. So what the hell is -”

“Whatever it was was close.” Manny frowned, looking around the room. “But maybe it was just a trick of the -”

“We all heard it.” You cut in, rolling your eyes. “No way all three of us heard the same thing and imagined it or warped something else to sound like …” You trailed off, closing your eyes. “It sounded like there was more than one, too. Did you hear the -”

“There’s gotta be an explanation.” Benny pulled his hat off, running his fingers through his hair. “Someone playing a prank, or some shit like that. Because I’ve heard wolves before, in Colorado. I’ve heard a pack of ‘em howling, and that sounded close, but it wasn’t…. Those sounds were coming from different places. If by some fuckin’ miracle there were wolves here, why and how would it be two different…” 

You watched his brow wrinkle in confusion, the man’s blue eyes narrowing. What are you thinking, Benny? You once again thought about calling Frankie, but after glancing at the clock, you decided not to - it was almost 10:30, and you knew that he was already in bed, his phone on Do Not Disturb. 

“I think I want to go home, Benny.” You blew out a breath. “Manny this was great and all, but -”

“Yeah, I’d like to get away from the swamp, too.” The man laughed, scratching the side of his head. “In twenty goddamn years, I’ve never … never heard anything like that out here, and I’d feel a little better just…” He sighed. “Being in my house.” 

The three of you parted ways in the parking lot a few minutes later, the gun only leaving Benny’s hand after you were both safely in the car and the engine was running. You hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary since you’d arrived back at the campsite, but you only fully relaxed once you turned onto 301 and were headed south, joining in a steady flow of traffic. 

Benny’s fingers were gripping the wheel tightly, the man’s jaw locked, and even though you had a ton of questions for him, you started out with one that surprised even you. “Are you going to text Frankie and let him know what we heard, or should I?” 

“Better question is what are we going to tell him?” He looked over at you, some of the tightness leaving his expression. “Because he’s not gonna believe it if we tell him what we think we heard.” We don’t think we heard anything. That was a … those were wolves. “Grab my phone for me, and dial Pope’s number, will you?” 

You reached into the backseat for his bag and pulled out the device, scrolling through his contacts and pressing the one for Pope before you handed it over. He took it, pressing the device between his ear and shoulder and waiting. Pope first? That’s interesting. Not his brother? 

“Hey. Where are you?” You watched the blonde man’s expression, catching a quick look of surprise that rapidly shifted into confusion, Benny clearing his throat before speaking. “Oh. Alright. Well, uh…” He sighed, closing his eyes briefly and gripping the wheel tighter. “We’re leaving Hillsborough right now and you’re not gonna believe what we think we heard.” He paused and then let out a laugh, though it wasn’t an easy one. “Wolves. We stopped the boat and were drifting, and something started howling and…” Benny’s voice trailed off and you saw him nod twice, reaching up to take the phone between his fingers again. “No, all three of us. Loud as shit, but it makes no sense, right? That’s impossible?” 

He was quiet for a long time, listening, and you pulled your phone out, swiping up on the screen. He’ll see it in the morning and he told me to let him know when we got home anyway, so… While Benny continued the conversation with Pope, you texted Frankie, trying to word things delicately. 

On our way home now. Heard some really weird shit on the boat. Sounded like wolves, but it couldn’t have been… scared the hell out of us. We heard and saw a bunch of gators, too. The boat was a great idea. Call me later if you want. “I think she just did.” You glanced over, finding that Benny was nodding, his eyes still on the road. “Yeah. He’ll see it in the morning.” He paused. “Yeah, Pope. We’re good. Have a good rest of your night. Stay safe.” 

It was a strange way to end the conversation, but you didn’t question it, instead settling back into your seat and looking out the window. You kept quiet until Benny cleared his throat, asking how you were doing. 

“I’m fine. It just freaked me out, I guess. I was expecting to hear the alligators and all that, but not … something howling.” He laughed, agreeing. “What the fuck do you think that was, Benny?”

“I donno. I’ve heard some crazy shit over the past couple years, but that …” He shook his head again. “No clue.”

You decided to joke with him, broaching the idea of what you knew to be the truth. “Maybe it was a werewolf.” He inhaled sharply, the steering wheel jerking in his hands. 

“What?” He looked over at you, the man’s shoulders stiff. “What are -” That’s an odd reaction. 

“Full moon and all?” You gestured at the moon, forcing out a laugh, though your heart was pounding again. “Fuck, I don’t know. I’m just trying to come up with an explanation for -”

“Maybe if it was October.” His voice softened, the man sighing. “Kids going out in the woods and camping and playing tricks on each other and all that shit.” Maybe. Or maybe not. “Happens all the time. People go out and get lost in the damn swamps because they’re tryin’ to scare themselves.” 

He went quiet again, the man’s deep breaths lengthening as he continued to drive. Instead of replying, you just stared out the window, arms crossed tightly over your chest. I have so much shit to add to my notes tonight. 

Neither of you spoke until he was parked in your driveway, the overhead light on as you gathered up your stuff. “Thank you for taking me tonight, Benny.” You looked over at him, hoping he could see the sincerity in your expression. “I’m glad you were there, and that you had a gun.”

“I’m glad I didn’t need to use it.” He smiled, the expression more genuine than any of them had been in hours. “I’ve seen too many videos of alligators getting curious and trying to climb into boats. I wasn’t gonna take any chances.” You laughed then, reaching over to squeeze his arm. 

“That’s a visual that’s going to haunt me.” He laughed, too, his eyes never leaving your face. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” Benny pointed at the front door. “You want me to walk you in?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” Closing your eyes, you sighed. “Seriously, Benny. Thank you.” Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over and hugged him tightly. “I don’t know what the fuck we heard tonight, but I’m glad someone else was there to confirm that I’m not going insane.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know either.” His grip on you was solid, but he let go quickly. “Now go inside. I wanna get home, and I’m supposed to take a picture of you walking in that door to send to -”

“That’s weird as fuck, right?” He nodded, wrinkling his nose. “Frankie seriously asked you to -”

“Yes to both.” Benny held up his phone. “But he cares about you, so…” You gathered up your stuff and then got out of the car, ducking your head to peek back in. 

“Is it so he knows I got home safe, or so he knows you didn’t try to weasel your way inside with me?” Benny snorted, his laughter barely contained. 

“I’ve done a lot of stupid shit with women, but I’d never try anything like that with someone that ‘Fish was into, and he knows it.” You smiled and gave him another nod, closing the door and walking the short distance to the front of your apartment. 

Once it was unlocked, you turned halfway, giving Benny a wave. You held the pose until you saw him lower the phone, the man giving you a thumbs up in return. He was already backing out of the driveway when you stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind you and flipping the switch on to bathe the room in light. 

It was barely after eleven, and thanks to adrenaline, you were wide awake - itching to get to work. “I was fucking right. Holy shit!” You spoke to the empty room, nodding your head as you set everything down, slipping your shoes off. There’s a wolf here, and it was close. You sat down, pulling your locked suitcase out and opening it, reaching for your journal and a pen. “Now I just need to figure out why it sounded like there were two of them.” 

— 

The ringing of your phone woke you what seemed like only minutes after you’d fallen asleep. 

You blinked your eyes and groaned at the sound, trying to focus on the slivers of light peeking in through the blinds to figure out what time it was. Reaching for the device, you shot up into a sitting position at the sight of the name - and picture - on the screen. Why is he calling me so early? 

Pressing the button to answer, you raised the device to your ear. “Alec? What are -” A woman’s voice on the other end of the line said your name, the sound thin and shaky, and your fingers immediately tightened around it as you confirmed that it was you. 

“This is Ashley. I didn’t… I hate that this is how …” You stood, your body shaking with fear and all traces of sleep gone as you listened to her speak. “We were going to surprise you but we got in too late last night and I needed to find a place… you know.” She paused, taking another shaky breath. “Alec was attacked last night. He’s in surgery right now, and you need to … you need to come to the hospital.” 

— 

tag list reblogs coming soon!

[paingoes]

Destroyer

Prologue

(Masterlist)

It was the first sunny day of the season and they had spent it out over the water. By the morning light, the sea was blinding. Each steel gray battleship reflected the White Sun’s rays right into the cockpit. The aircraft, small and inconspicuous, hovered above the enemy fleet like a nervous fairy. It was no weapon of war. The shipmen down below took notice and little green lines of inquiry began to flash upon the craft’s receiver. 

The pilot tilted the screen down and positioned the craft a good mile away from the north-most ship. A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a finger pointed in the right direction, and then the unbearable cacophony of steel rendering.

The sea rushed in to fill the gap, causing massive waves to rock the once-still ocean. Where the SS Iselin had been only seconds prior, there now sat a deformed metal mass no larger than the length of a truck. The surrounding water filled with a reddish color, blood and oil escaping the same clutch. As the radio went wild between the remaining fleet ships, the broken body of the Iselin sunk quietly beneath the waves. There were no survivors. Delta had been twelve.

The hovercraft took him back to dry land. The Emperor, the only person the show had ever really been for, stood up to shake the hands of the pilot, of the scientists, and of his Admiral who had pushed so hard for the demonstration. The Emperor lowered himself to speak to Delta, the way you might any child, and saw the tremors all through his body, the cold sweat of convulsions. The Emperor wiped Delta’s hair from his face and said no more.

He was returned to his own quarters back at the institute. The nurse had to hold up one side of him just to make it down the hall. He kept it together as he’d been taught to while in company, but back in his own territory he could no longer suppress the nausea. He spent most of the night on the cold tile floor of his bathroom, as the doctors and the scientists buzzed around taking vitals and hooking him up to strange machines.

By the next week, the deal was done. The royal guards had been sent to collect him. All that he owned could fit into one suitcase, which the director had packed for him personally. The director had also picked who would be leaving with him as a charge - one physician, one scientist. Dr.Martino’s grip tightened harshly on his neck whenever he fidgeted too much. Dr.Yanna had a bad drinking habit. Delta was not happy about these choices, even from the most remote corner of his mind. But he had learned to tolerate both of them at the institute and could appreciate the familiarity. He wasn’t scared of the guards. He kept his head down until they arrived at the palace - and long after that too.

It had presented an interesting but not unprecedented engineering problem, finding out where to keep him. In the past week, they had built the basement up with the same dense psychic insulation that the institute had perfected. Delta had five hundred square feet of space, at the time sparsely furnished. His vague hope was that while in the isolated chamber, they would remove the dampening collar from around his neck. But they left him there with no mention of it. He thought back to the wreckage of the Iselin and realized it was unlikely the collar would ever come off again. He rubbed at the raw skin idly, leaning against the new bed frame. The space was larger than his old room had been, but he had not gotten up to explore it. He sensed that the guards would not like to open up the chamber doors and find him anywhere they had not left him. It was the inclination of many third parties to treat the psionics like machinery - and to be disconcerted by anything that contracted this. Besides that, he knew they were scared of him. As isolated as he had been, even in such ascetic surroundings, he could read fear. It radiated off all of them now.

[lonestarflight]

Space Shuttle Challenger lifts off during STS-7 from Launch Complex 39A at 7:33 a.m. EDT.

"The crew consists of astronauts Robert Crippen, commander, the first two-time space shuttle astronaut; Frederick H. Hauck, pilot; and three mission specialists -- Sally K. Ride, John M. Fabian and Norman E. Thagard. During the mission the crew will deploy the Indonesian PALAPA-B and the Canadian ANIK-C communications satellites. They will also use the Remote Manipulator System (RMS) arm to deploy and retrieve a platform for space experiments called the Shuttle Pallet Satellite (SPAS), and serve as a spaceborne laboratory for OSTA-2, a scientific payload. Getaway Special canisters and materials processing experiments will fill out the complement of payloads on the mission."

"This high-angle view of the liftoff, a lengthy stretch of Florida Atlantic coastline and a number of large cumulus clouds was photographed with a handheld 70mm camera by astronaut John W. Young. Young usually pilots the Shuttle Training Aircraft (STA) for weather monitoring at launch and landing sites for STS missions."

Date: June 18, 1983

NARA: 6375200

NASA ID: DF-SC-83-09267, KSC-83PC-0419, S83-35702, S83-35620

[gumnut-logic]

It all happened so fast.

But then this was International Rescue and Scott Tracy, everything happened fast.

A plane on an irrecoverable dive towards the ocean. Fifteen passengers needing to be saved. One daredevil brother perched atop the aircraft, lasering a hole into the dying craft’s fuselage so he can yank those fifteen people out of their flying coffin.

Virgil at the helm of Two executing the fine control needed to keep his ‘bird a pace and able to lower the rescue rig to get those people off the plane.

Fast, extremely difficult, and one of International Rescue’s ‘Tuesdays’.

That completely went to all shit just as fast.

Virgil had pulled up all fifteen souls and stashed them safely in the belly of his ‘bird and Scott was the sole person remaining. Virgil saw him stand up and call One with his wrist control.

Just as the dying plane shook, causing Scott to stumble. Something flew off the front of the craft and hit Virgil’s brother from behind.

“Scott?!”

The pilot fell face first and onto the back of the plane, obviously not entirely unconscious, but the lack of response from comms as both Virgil and John called their brother’s name again clearly indicated that something was not right.

“I’m getting erratic vitals, Virgil, and he is not responding. Sixty seconds and that plane is in the water.

Virgil was already moving. “You have Two. Allow for my remote adjustments.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”

Fast and ever so professional.

Two was flying parallel to the ailing plane, directly above, but simply lowering himself wouldn’t be enough to reach his brother. Calculations bounced around his brain as Virgil attached his grapple line and activated the hatch.

Wind tore at his helmet.

Scott was still prone on the back of the aircraft. It was a miracle he hadn’t been thrown off.

The ocean loomed far too close below.

Calculations made, Virgil jumped.

It was a wild ride, something his older brother would have revelled in. For a moment, Virgil was virtually weightless until his boots hit metal.

Then he was fighting the wind and running the length of a falling plane.

He didn’t have time to scan his brother, the ocean was far too close. So, it was with a prayer to the universe itself that he grabbed Scott, holding him close, and leapt off the plane. It collided with the water in a violent spray and died an all-consuming death.

Virgil grit his teeth as Two caught their line and coasted them just above the waves until John could push the Thunderbird into an gentle climb.

Scott’s head lolled against Virgil’s shoulder, limp.

He clung to his big brother.

God.

Virgil hooked Scott’s harness to his own and set the grapple line to retrieve. They were safe.

He held Scott ever so tight all the way up, regardless.

Surfacing inside Two’s cockpit was a relief battered only by Scott’s unknown condition. Unclipping Scott’s harness, Virgil lifted his legs properly into his arms and carried him over to one of the pull-down stretchers. Virgil nudged it with a foot and it unfolded, letting him place his brother down gently on the soft surface.

A flicker of yellow light and the mediscanner declared that while Scott had a pile of new bruises across his back, his only major complaint was a concussion.

As if the diagnosis was a trigger, Scott groaned and attempted to curl up.

“Hey, relax. You’re okay.” Virgil reached over and unclipped his brother’s helmet, sliding it off carefully and lowering his head to the pillow.

“Virgil?” Scott screwed up his face and raised a hand to his head. “Ow.”

“You’re okay. Just a little encounter with some random fuselage.” He gently pulled Scott’s hands away from his face. “Let me see those baby blues.”

“Not babies.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow as Scott opened his eyes and squinted.

“Urgh.”

The baby blues disappeared quickly into a grimace.

“Nausea?”

His grunt was affirmative.

“Hang in there. I’ll get you something and then we’ll get you home.”

“One?” It was a single syllable, but it meant everything.

“John has her. Don’t worry.”

Another grunt. Scott’s face was still scrunched up and Virgil grabbed a kit, hunting for the anti-nausea meds.

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?” He was going to have a word with Gordon. Why was this pack out of order?

“Thanks.”

Virgil turned to his prone brother and found those blue eyes struggling to stay steady enough to convey exactly what he felt.

Virgil reached out and placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “Hey, anytime. You know that.”

His brother groaned again, and Virgil went back to locating medication before he had to clean up a mess.

Fortunately, he found it and, moments later, both brothers breathed a sigh of relief. Scott melted into the mattress, knotted muscles unwinding and Virgil leant against the side and took a moment.

He would have to pick up control of Two shortly, deliver the fifteen passengers to the nearest GDF base, and then fly home.

But right now? He reached over and brushed a stray hair off Scott’s forehead. His brother wrinkled his brow in response, eyes still closed, and Virgil couldn’t help but smile just a little.

Injured, but safe.

Thank god.

-o-o-o-

[topgunreacts]

please share your thoughts on canon ice with the peanut gallery. character analysis i beg of you. this funky little guy has been shaking in my parlor like a sopping wet chihuahua and i cannot understand him by God. break him down for me. explain him.

what are your thoughts. feelings. complaints, concerns. rude remarks. who is Iceman what’s he about

Omg I'm so bad at these. Please take everything I say with a grain of salt. I will try my best. My real character dissertations are in my stories.

Thots

Tall

Moist

I don't give a shit what color his eyes are; it's running gag of mine (and only funny to me) to switch up his eye color between stories

Stop wearing sunglasses indoors

Great bone structure in the fingers

Fuckable but not by me

Misunderstood

Gum problem

So fucking tired

Incredibly bad at talking about his feelings. So bad. But god he tries his best to make Maverick feel better after Goose goes to the Untitled Game in the sky.

Too smart for his own good

Afraid of emails

Home of sexual

Every time I give him anxiety, I also give him a huge cock as a consolation prize. It's what he deserves.

Could use a good consensual caning. He could learn from Chance Engagement Ice.

Goes to bed at 9 PM

From California or Hawaii or Michigan or Canada or somewhere, a place definitely, with a location that is real

Is NOT a rule follower. Look at his fucking hair. He says YO to Viper. He is unapologetically Doing His Own Thing. Werk.

Concerns

Iceman is regarded as a shallow villain-antagonist by many people. This is very silly. Just because Maverick is The Hero doesn't mean he's right about everything or that what he does is justified. Each and every time Ice calls Maverick out on his behavior, he's (1) correct and (2) motivated by a desire to go home alive at the end of each day. Maverick IS dangerous. He IS unsafe. His behavior SHOULD be regarded with suspicion re: his intentions by his supposed allies. These people are flying around in high-speed metal triangles. Have you ever seen the end result of a mid-air collision between aircraft that AREN'T going mach speeds? Here is an example! [image depicts plane crash debris, no bodies, but...nobody survived this] [TCAS wasn't invented until after the 1956 Grand Canyon collision!!!!!] The DC-7 was the faster jet in the incident, with a max speed of 406 mph (653 km/h, 353 kn). Those little regional jets you might have flown on for short domestic hops can hit speeds of 600 mph in the modern era. A Tomcat, remember, can go supersonic. Ice would become confetti. I'd fucking say something, too!

At no point does Ice come across as cruel when he makes these comments about Maverick's performance, also. He shit talks (cough cough bullshit) but it always struck me as standard issue locker room talk crap. It's not Personal. He's not trying to throw Maverick off his game or anything. Ice isn't there to make FRIENDS he's there to WIN is at TOPGUN ready to do his job and kick ass. And he also, you know, wants to survive to graduation without getting slammed [aerially] by the guy who thinks it's fun to break aviation regulations over an ACTIVE AIRFIELD. People like to compare Ice to Hangman in terms of attitude. A lot. And Ice is not even remotely like Hangman. Asking Maverick whose side he's on after Maverick demonstrates careless piloting--behavior that directly endangers Ice and others--is not the same thing as bringing up somebody's dead dad as like, a dig.

Feelings

Spoonable.

Val Kilmer's little mole is cute.

Complaints

Needs more gay

Needs more lines

Needs more ass shots like the ones Miranda got in Mass Effect 2*

Rude Remarks

Take off your fucking shades in tha club, you absolute square.

*(Did you know the person who made the ME2 mod to remove Miranda's ass shots made a mod for the legendary edition to re-add the ass shots? The studio took out the ass shots on their own for legendary. To be modern and corporate-approved feminist or something. And this modder was like no. Only I can do that. They took Miranda's ass out of this world and they're going to put it back in.)

Conclusion

pussy shot.

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Deep Throat

Rated X / 1451 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder knocks firmly on her door three times. Okay, maybe it’s more of a pound than a knock, but it’s justified.

He’s pissed. No, enraged. He’s fucking furious, namely because he knew from the start that he shouldn’t trust her, but he stupidly let her wide blue eyes and pouty mouth lull him into a false sense of security. His father always told him to watch out for the pretty ones, and for once he’s seeing value in the cold-hearted bastard’s advice.

His jaw is sore from clenching his teeth, and there are little half-moon indents on the meaty parts of his palms from his balled-up fists. If she were a man, he’d hit her. He’d knock her ass halfway to Sunday and never look back. Her car is parked outside but she’s still not answering, and his anger begins to boil over. He lifts his arm and knocks again.

The door flies open and she appears on the other side, regarding him with shock and concern. She’s bare-faced, and she’s tying a fluffy white bathrobe around her waist. She’s so fucking small, so soft, and he feels his anger begin to wane. But then he remembers, and it comes charging right back.

“Mulder, what’s wrong?” she asks, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. “How do you know where I live?”

She’d be pissed if he told her how he got her address, and there’s no room for her anger right now. This is about him. He stalks into her pristine kitchen and wheels around, holding up the rumpled field report in his shaking fist.

“What the fuck is this, Scully?” He barks at her, and she flinches but quickly recovers, then steps forward and takes the paper from his hand, giving it a cursory glance.

“It appears to be my field report on the Budahas case,” she says calmly, handing it back to him.

Mulder snatches it from her and crumples it up, then tosses it into her immaculate living room. Her apartment looks like a fucking magazine. She cocks an eyebrow at him and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Is there a problem with my field report, Agent Mulder?” she asks haughtily.

She’s not even remotely intimidated by him, and it makes him want to punch something. He takes two steps toward her, attempting to leverage his height, but she only lifts her eyes to his face, not even giving him the gratification of craning her neck up to look at him.

“Special Agent Mulder’s insistence that Budahas may have been a test pilot on a top secret project involving aircraft using recovered UFO technology, and may have suffered severe stress related trauma by flying these aircraft, is inconclusive,” he recites from memory, spitting the words at her.

Scully sighs and slowly rolls her neck to the side, leveling him with an exasperated stare. He can smell her, the perfume she wears at work and something else that’s fruity, maybe lotion. She smells good.

“Are you of the opinion that my field report is inaccurate?” she asks, emotionless.

“You were there, you know what we saw!” he shouts, pointing off to the side as though indicating that the lights in the sky are now hovering around her foyer. “You just don’t want to admit it!”

“There’s nothing to admit, Mulder,” she says sternly, raising her voice ever so slightly. “What we saw was some flashing lights in the sky. Flashing lights does not a UFO make.”

“You know as well as I do that there was something in that hangar, Scully! Just because I can’t remember it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!”

“And it doesn’t mean that it does!” she throws back, and he has the sudden confusing realization that he’s hard.

He stares at her. At her freckled cheeks and ocean irises. Her blonde eyelashes and that little mole over her lip that she tries to cover with makeup. He wants to hate her so fucking bad, but he doesn’t. He normally convinces himself that he doesn’t care whether anyone believes him, but he cares whether she does.

Her eyes narrow slightly and her lips part as though she’s preparing to speak, but he doesn’t give her a chance to. He takes one more step forward and grabs both sides of her pretty face, registering her surprised gasp before he covers her mouth with his. One second, two, three. He finally pulls away with a huff, and she gapes at him, stunned.

He waits for the sting of her slap, and the subsequent banishment from her apartment—and perhaps her life. Her eyes dart down to his groin and then back to his face, and then her tongue peeks out and flashes across her bottom lip, wet and red. He wants to taste it. He wants to know what it would feel like on his lips. He re-enters her space and kisses her again.

She is surprisingly acquiescent to his advance. She kisses him back this time, and he tastes the tart bite of wine on her tongue. She doesn’t stop him when he pulls the tie on her robe loose, revealing remarkably matronly silk pajamas. She’s such a fucking enigma, he doesn’t know what to make of her. Is she a school marm or a sex kitten? A friend or a foe? Maybe she’s everything. Maybe that’s why he can’t stop thinking about her.

She’s nude under her pajamas, and he happily fills in the details of what was obscured by those little bra and panties back in Bellefleur. She eagerly unbuttons his jeans, and he wonders how long it’s been since she fucked someone. For him, it’s been a long time. He hoists her up onto the arm of her couch and pushes her legs open, stealing a look at the red slash of her cunt before she pulls his shirt off over his head. He’s so fucking angry, so fucking turned on, so fucking afraid of what they’re doing. He runs the head of his cock up and down over her slick folds, then pushes into her.

Scully makes a sharp sound that stills him, and he feels her cunt beating around him like the tell tale heart.

“We should use a condom,” she says, more of an observation than an admonishment.

“Do you have one?” he asks, flexing the muscles in his thighs to keep from thrusting.

“No,” she says, breathless. “It’s okay, I’m on birth control. Just…don’t come inside me.”

“I won’t,” he promises, then experimentally withdraws a little and rocks forward.

Scully whimpers, and the sound makes his balls tighten. He wants to fuck her so hard she can’t speak, can’t tell him all the reasons he’s wrong, can’t make him want her approval so badly. But he doesn’t want to hurt her, her body or her feelings. He’s all mixed up and he can’t figure out how to feel.

He does fuck her, but not angrily. She’s so small, and soft, but she’s also powerful and dauntless. She held a man at gunpoint for him, stole a vehicle. She probably saved his life. He wants to hate her, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Oh, I’m gonna come,” she whispers, and he feels the strangling grip of her as she unravels around him. He waits as long as he responsibly can, teeters as close to the edge as he dares before he pulls out and grips himself, using her wetness as lubricant as he jerks himself off and spurts a milky streak of cum across her belly.

He steps away from her, his jeans still bunched up around his ankles, and she wordlessly slips off the couch and disappears into her bathroom, collecting her robe and pajamas on the way. He dresses and sits at her dining room table, and when she re-emerges a few minutes later she is all business.

“I take it you’d like me to make some changes,” she says casually, retrieving the balled-up field report from the living room floor and smoothing it out with the edge of the table. “I won’t put my name to anything that’s untrue or intentionally misleading, but if there’s something you’d prefer that I omit, I’m willing to consider it.”

He looks at her, stunned by her sudden change in demeanor. Her lips are slightly swollen and he can see the beginnings of beard-burn on her chin, but if not for that, he might think he imagined it.

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head once to clear it. “There are a couple parts I’m hoping you’ll make changes to.”

She meets his eye and hands him a pen.

“Make some notes and I’ll look at it in the morning.”

[sjsmith56]

Island Recluse

Summary: A woman writer is drawn into a 10 million dollar prize being offered to the person who finds and writes about Bucky Barnes, who went into hiding after helping Captain America deal with the Flag Smashers. Tracking the clues to an exclusive resort on a remote island in the Bahamas, she finds things there aren’t quite what they seem.

Length: 6.1 K

Characters: Named OFC (Maya Riggs, no physical description), Jerry the pilot, Curtis (resort attendant), Antoine (resort manager), Jake (resort bartender), and Kelly, (worker at the resort), Pepper Stark. (The resort people are in disguise.)

Warnings: deliberate over serving OFC alcohol, deliberate drugging of OFC (not done for malicious purposes), description of further trauma for Bucky Barnes, deliberate memory loss (for good reason).

Author notes: This plot appeared in a dream but was considerably darker. Told in first person by OFC.

Masterlist

🏝️ 🍹

It started out as rumours; someone was offering a big commission to find an individual and write an investigative article about him, a man who was an enigma from the time his identity had been connected with the infamous assassin known as the Winter Soldier. The man, Bucky Barnes, had defied all attempts in the second half of the 20th century and then another decade into the 21st to find and neutralize him. The longest serving PoW ever recorded, he had been kept as a prisoner of HYDRA, changed into a super soldier, tortured, brainwashed, then forced into becoming an assassin, taking out whoever HYDRA ordered him to, until his final mission. That was the one where he was ordered to kill his childhood friend, Steve Rogers. His own memories had resurfaced, fought the programming that forced him to kill. He saved his friend and, in the process, helped to bring down the secretive organization that were this close to taking control of the world. Then Barnes, after helping the next Captain America, Sam Wilson, defeat the Flag Smashers kind of fell off the radar. He left New York, moved to Louisiana for a while, then just disappeared.

There were sightings of him; running a bar in the Maldives, operating a fishing boat charter in Huatulco, Mexico, even a rumour he had opened a restaurant in Thailand but by the time anyone wanting a piece of that commission got there he was gone, like the ghost he was thought to be at the height of his assassin years. When I got a mysterious email, offering me, Maya Riggs, still struggling to pay my college tuition, the chance to join in the search for the elusive Barnes I jumped at it. This was my chance to prove I could work with the big names in journalism; find the clues that would lead me to Barnes, then write about the chase, and perhaps about the man. My reward would be a cool 10 million, as well as the title of the writer who cracked the mystery of where Barnes was.

Two years later I was on the cusp of what I was sure to be the biggest story of my life. I was in a seaplane flying in a long sweeping arc over a remote crescent shaped island in the Bahamas group of islands. On the aircraft’s final approach towards the multipurpose dock that seemed to be the only access point to Lunatum Island I noticed the thick foliage on the small but lush isolated refuge. It was thicker than I expected, almost as if it was saying I was going to have to dig deeper to find any answers. As the pilot skillfully landed the small aircraft on the calm turquoise waters, the seemingly endless white sand beach looked like it extended forever but I knew from looking at maps that the beaches were only present on the inner part of the small crescent shaped isle. Still, when it’s the only land for many miles it could feel bigger.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked the pilot, Jerry. “You’re fortunate to come here. It’s very exclusive and I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve ever flown here.”

“Yet the resort can hold a good two dozen guests,” I replied. “How do they get here?”

“Personal aircraft,” he said. “Not by charter, not mine at least.”

A man on the dock waited for us, signalling the pilot when he was close enough to the dock, then stepping onto the pontoon with a rope to fasten the plane to the structure. The man, with light brown hair smiled as he opened the passenger door.

“Miss Riggs? I’m Curtis. Welcome to Lunatum Island. Your publisher sent a radio message that your pickup will be in one week. Jerry here will return for you then. We’re just waiting for an outgoing guest to get here. If you want to wait in the shade, there are some refreshments in ice for you under the trees on the beach. You’ll go back on the golf cart with Antoine. I’ll bring your luggage.”

So much for coming here incognito. I had already lined up a publisher for a travel story on the mysterious island resort, convincing them to pony up the money to stay here. It wasn’t cheap, more than a year’s tuition at many prestigious colleges. But I was certain that I had the final destination of James Buchanan Barnes. That commission check would be mine.

I thanked Jerry for the great flight then walked on the dock towards the beach. A large metal washtub filled with ice was full of assorted bottled drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. Picking up a beer I opened it then sat on one of the lounge chairs and put my feet up while I took a long drink of the cold beverage. Curtis was talking with Jerry, the pilot, joking in the way that men of brief acquaintance often do. Then he reached in back of the aircraft and pulled out my suitcase, bringing it down the dock towards me.

“How long have you worked here?” I asked when he stood near me.

“A few years,” he replied. “Got out of the services, bummed around a bit, then heard they were looking for someone to handle incoming flights and be a gofer for a private resort. It’s nice and quiet here.”

“How many staff?”

He shrugged. “Many of our guests bring their own. Other than me, there’s Antoine, Jake runs the bar, and we have different chefs that work on their newest creations in solitude that provides the cooking, plus the odd person who is hired on as needed. It works.”

“How many guests are here right now?” I asked casually. “Anyone famous?”

He turned a serious gaze on me. “Our guests come here expecting complete and total privacy. They get it. I would suggest you tone down your curiosity as it could lead to problems, and you wouldn’t be allowed to stay to write your travel article.”

If it was a threat, it was a subtle one but before I could respond we both heard the sound of a golf cart approaching. Driven by a dark-haired man with a single passenger, a very angry but beautiful woman, the cart stopped at where the dock met the sandy beach. Without even waiting for Antoine to get out the woman angrily stepped off the cart and grabbed her suitcase, depositing it loudly on the dock.

“I have never been in a place with such indifferent service,” she complained to Antoine. “No tip for you and I’ll be giving you zeroes across the board on every travel website I can. You call this exclusive? I call it a scam.”

She stalked towards the seaplane, leaving Curtis to bring her suitcase. Antoine, seemingly not bothered by the little scene looked at me.

“Miss Riggs, I presume,” he stated. “Sorry about that. Miss Webster had a different type of resort in mind when she booked her week here, expecting to be waited on hand and foot in a spa experience. That’s not what we’re about.”

I looked at her, now struggling to get into the small seaplane. “She didn’t know you offer a complete break from the world I take it. No wifi, no cell phone coverage, just a place of calm to recharge.”

He smiled. “You get it. Come on, I’ll take you to your bungalow.”

Grabbing my suitcase he put it in the back of the golf cart, waited for me to get in then started towards the other end of the island. While he was happy to talk about the natural beauty of the location, when I began questioning him about the type of people who stayed here, he reacted just like Curtis did and told me not to pursue questions about any of the guests. When we got to the bungalow, I walked inside, pleasantly surprised to find a beautifully laid out oasis of calm. The pastel colours of the walls seemed to promote the feeling of total relaxation. The bed, a large king sized one, was covered in what were evidently expensive linens. Showing me the bathroom facilities, I could tell that no money had been spared in the quality of the fittings.

“The bar is open from 11 am to 11 pm daily,” said Antoine. “It is also where breakfast is served until 10 am, lunch from noon to 2 pm, and dinner from 6 pm until 9 pm. All food and drinks are included in the cost and tipping is not permitted. Power is solar and battery operated while we have a very deep well to provide water so you can shower as long as you wish. As you already know there is no cell phone coverage or wifi so you are completely cut off from the rest of the world.”

“How do you stay in contact?” I asked.

“Long distance radio,” he answered, just a little too quickly for my tastes. “As Curtis no doubt explained and I am confirming again, the privacy of our guests is paramount. You are not at liberty to photograph them without their permission, nor are you to go snooping around their bungalows. The same goes for them as regards to you. I hope you take this opportunity to take a break from the rat race and enjoy our relaxing atmosphere.”

He left me then and I opened my suitcase, pulling out a bathing suit and coverup. Quickly taking a shower I changed and headed towards the bar, located centrally on the widest part of the beach. I had to start somewhere. When I got there several people were sitting in scattered groupings. They all stopped talking when I entered then resumed their conversations after I sat at the bar.

“Hi, what’s your pleasure?” asked the bartender. “I can make just about anything.”

“Surprise me,” I said. “Something tropical and sweet but refreshing.”

With a grin he began mixing some drinks, glancing up at me every so often. I watched him, noticing his well-built physique under the tight shirt he was wearing. His muscular arms were definitely impressive, and I wondered how he kept fit in such a remote environment. Placing an aqua blue coloured drink that matched the colour of the ocean around us in front of me, he topped it off with a skewer of lime and a maraschino cherry.

“A Hypnotic Breeze,” he stated. “Hypnotiq, white rum, lime juice, pineapple juice and simple syrup. Tell me what you think.”

Sipping it gave me a rush of sweet and tart but definitely tasty and I told him, making him grin as if I had made his day. After that one he made another while we talked about various things. It was a different cocktail, but equally as good and definitely potent as I could feel myself becoming more relaxed. It also made me bold as I began to study the other guests, trying to figure out their identities. The bartender, whose name tag Jake confirmed the name that Curtis gave me, watched me while he made drinks for the others, taking them out on trays. He would stand and talk with them, joking about different things, then come back to see if I wanted another drink, which I did as they were so good. When dinner was announced I couldn’t believe the time had gone by so quickly.

“Would you like your meal here at the bar or at one of the tables?” asked Jake. “It’s your choice.”

“Here,” I answered, “so I can look at your pretty eyes.”

He smiled slightly when I said that and set me up with cutlery. I had just enough of my wits about me to push my luck.

“No one ever said you had pretty eyes before?” I asked, trying to keep my voice soft and unthreatening.

“Sure, many times,” he answered. Then he leaned towards me. “It’s just that I never heard it from a guest who hasn’t been drinking.”

“That’s too bad,” I replied, feeling even more bold with the alcohol flowing through my system. “I thought you had pretty eyes before I started drinking. And a nice build, and a hot ass.”

He blushed, which surprised me, that a man as good looking as him would still blush at being complimented. Someone from the kitchen, the chef maybe, appeared with a tray of food and together they served everyone, still sitting at their tables, finishing with me. As I speared a shrimp, I realized that no one had taken an order from me. Then I bit into the shrimp and didn’t care as it was plump and juicy and perfect. Seasoned with just the right amount of butter and garlic I couldn’t get enough of it or the pasta it was paired with. It was incredible food. The wine that was served with it was sublime, and then the pièce de résistance was the chocolate mousse dessert that appeared in front of me. Jake smiled at me, watching with amusement, as I dug into it, seemingly enjoying my cries of delight over the rich creaminess of the final course in the meal. It was the perfect way to finish my first day at the resort. Afterwards I stuck to sparkling water, lounging on a beach chair in the deepening twilight, until I returned to my bungalow and fell into an incredible sleep.

The following day I went to the bar, where breakfast was served buffet style. The assortment of tea, coffee and juices were also self-serve, and I ate without any worries. Although I looked for Jake he wasn’t there, and I guessed he had mornings off. I spent the morning exploring, avoiding the residences as I was warned but I did look for any sign of technology, still not quite believing this island was as cut-off as they claimed. I saw Antoine and Curtis a couple of times, waving to them as I walked. After an excellent lunch of all sorts of salads, and cold dishes designed to refresh I took a nap, then went swimming. Despite my misgivings over the legitimacy of the resort I could feel myself being lulled into the sense of timelessness it offered.

Dinner was as superb as the night before as I sat at the bar, once again admiring Jake. There were other guests there, but he seemed to be focused on my needs.

“So, you had a good first day?” he asked, as he made me another Hypnotic Breeze without asking. “What did you do?”

I told him about exploring and swimming. After sipping my drink, I looked at him again.

“So, what’s your story?” I asked. “You seem awfully young to be working in such a remote location.”

“I’m older than I look,” he admitted. “Was in the army, had some issues, couldn’t function well in a busier place so I looked for a small quiet corner of the world and found it here. I’m happy.”

“No one special in your life?” I asked, toying with the maraschino cherry.

“No. Haven’t met the right one yet. Most women my age like being where all the excitement is, and I don’t.”

He left me then as one of the other guests waved to him and I watched as they spoke, making him grin a little then they looked back to me. Returning to behind the bar he made another round of drinks for them and served them. By the time he returned I was ready for another drink.

“How about a Tropical Bay Breeze?” he asked. “Coconut rum, pineapple and cranberry juice. Easy but tasty.”

I nodded, finding it as good as he suggested. Throughout the evening he gave me more drinks to try. If I had been more suspicious, I would have wondered if he had designs on me based on the amount of alcohol he served me, but he never crossed any lines of behaviour. Not once did he use a pickup line on me or touch me. I did talk to him about writing and how much debt I was in after finishing my journalism degree. Somehow the topic of the 10-million-dollar prize to the writer who found Bucky Barnes came up. He smiled slightly, if a little sadly.

“Is that why you’re really here?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” I spluttered, wondering why I had mentioned it, even as the alcohol haze settled over me. “I’m here to write a travel article. I mean, this is the most exclusive resort in the world. Any writer would give an arm and a leg for an opportunity just to write about this place, right?”

I looked behind me to see what the others thought and was surprised to find I was the only one left in the bar.

“Where did they all go?” I asked.

Jake smiled sadly again. “Back to their bungalows. They do that with every new guest on the island. They don’t want to affect the lottery.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying. “Lottery, what lottery?”

He smiled again and I got the feeling he was disappointed in me. “On the people that come looking for Bucky Barnes,” he replied. “There’s a lottery on what happens when they don’t find him.”

Okay, I was detecting a definite amount of emotion in how he said that, and I suddenly wanted to go back to my bungalow. I slid off the barstool, almost falling over with the motion. He reached out to steady me, but I put my hands out, not wanting his help. I was a big girl. I had been drunk before and could make my way home by myself. I headed one way and heard his voice.

“Maya, your bungalow is the other way,” he said softly.

“Right,” I nodded and turned around, stumbling out of the bar.

It took a while, step by step, one foot in front of the other, but I made it back and fell onto my bed before I had a thought. Who brought up the topic of Bucky Barnes? Was it him or me? Who were these people, really?

🛌 💊

When I woke up, I was under the covers of the bed, still in my clothes, although my shoes had been removed. My head was pounding from the hangover. Beside the bed was a bottle of water and a couple of painkillers. Someone knew I would need this, and I took them, draining almost half the bottle to chase the pills. When the headache subsided, I roused myself to have a shower and changed into shorts and a tank top. I dispensed with putting on the makeup and did my hair in a single French braid. As I did, the last thoughts I remembered from the night before came to my mind.

Determined to get an answer I headed for the bar. Breakfast was still ongoing, and like before it was all self-serve, with no sign of Jake. A young woman came out to replenish one of the dishes and I went to her.

“Is Jake around?” I asked. “I want to apologize to him for my behaviour last night.”

“Jake is off this morning,” she replied.

I looked at her name tag, Kelly.

“How long have you been here, Kelly?” I asked, pouring myself a glass of orange juice and taking a sip.

“About a year,” she answered. “Not full time as I have a job on the mainland. When I have breaks there I come here to work as it’s just as relaxing as taking a vacation. It’s so laid back, you know?”

“Sounds ideal,” I said. “Were you in college?” She shook her head but didn’t answer. “Jake said something to me last night that puzzled me. Maybe you can explain why he said it.”

She stopped what she was doing and stood directly in front of me with her arms crossed. Her demeanour had shifted somewhat but I couldn’t really tell why she seemed irritated with me, considering I had never met her before.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Ask away.”

“He said something about a lottery involving people looking for Bucky Barnes.” I spit it out. No point pussyfooting around the question. “What did he mean?”

“What do you think?” she asked, sounding defensive.

“I think he thought I’m here looking for the Winter Soldier,” I replied.

“Don’t call him that,” she retorted, suddenly sounding protective. “It’s wrong, so wrong.”

“What do you know, Kelly?”

Antoine appeared from the kitchen. “Kelly, take your break, okay? I’ll take over.” He looked sternly at me. “Miss Riggs, I warned you about asking about the other guests.”

“So, he is here,” I stated. “This is where he’s hiding out. I haven’t even seen him but I’m in trouble for just asking. What’s this about a lottery involving the people looking for Barnes? Why do you think I’m looking for him?”

Antoine sighed. “Because you are, aren’t you? Nearly every stranger that comes here is looking for him and he just wants to be left alone. He’s suffered enough and the world will continue on without knowing anything more about Bucky Barnes.”

“Just let me talk to him,” I said. “If I hear it from his lips then I’ll leave, and I won’t say anything.”

“I bet 10 million dollars that you will,” said Antoine, who nodded at someone behind me.

As I turned to see who it was, I felt something prick my neck and I began to feel lightheaded then drowsy. The weird part is that Antoine took his face off and underneath he was Tony Stark, but everyone knew that Tony Stark died in October 2023, from the injuries he received when he and the Avengers saved the world from Thanos.

“I really thought she would be different,” said a familiar voice, Jake’s voice.

Then I blacked out completely.

💉 🌅 🌌

It was almost sunset when I woke up. I was still in the bar, but I was seated on one of the plush armchairs, curled up on it like a cat in front of a fireplace.

“There she is,” said a soft voice and I turned my head towards it.

It was him, Bucky Barnes, his face lit up by the setting sun, his hair long but the top part pulled back away from his face and fastened with a hair tie. His lower face was covered by his full beard, but it was his eyes that caught my attention as they gazed at me, studying every part of my face. Self-consciously I sat up and he handed me a water bottle.

“You should drink it, so you don’t feel dehydrated,” he said. “The sedative can do that. I’m sorry about that. They’re pretty protective of me and once you spooked Kate, Tony had to intervene, and Clint decided to take action.”

“You drugged me?” I was angry. “What gives you the right?”

“What gives you the right to come onto a private island looking for a man who’s in hiding?” asked another voice and I turned the other way to see Tony Stark.

“You’re dead,” I said. “You died.”

“I almost died and decided to check out permanently,” he said. “This is my island, and you were my guest, but you couldn’t even respect my wishes. You had to ask questions even though you were warned.”

“Tony, please,” interrupted Bucky. “Let me talk to her. I know you’re angry, but she was only at the question stage because I mentioned my name and the lottery. Kate did overreact and so did Clint.”

Kate, Clint … was he talking about Kate Bishop and her Hawkeye predecessor, Clint Barton? I was so confused. Bucky stood up and offered me his hand. At first, I hesitated.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he said calmly. “I’m going to tell you everything, but I need you to trust me, just a little. Please, Maya.”

Tony huffed a little, but he raised his hands in surrender, and I stood up, taking Bucky’s hand. He led me out onto the beach. We walked silently for a bit, and I have to admit it was nice, romantic almost, but the fact remained that they drugged me, and I wanted answers. He stopped where there were a couple of lounge chairs facing the water and gestured for me to sit.

“A few months after Sam Wilson and I dispensed with the Flag Smashers I was kidnapped, drugged, and woke up in one of the HYDRA bases I had been kept in,” he said. “Of course, I was afraid, but I thought I could fight my way out, except for one thing. They found a way to reinstall the Winter Soldier, permanently, and were prepared to stop me from leaving in any way imaginable so they could force the transition on me. Before they could do it, I was rescued by the Black Panther, Captain America, both Hawkeyes, the sister of Black Widow and US Agent.” He smirked after the last name. “I was surprised at his cooperation, but they asked for his help and with a million-dollar payout from Pepper Stark he agreed. The Black Panther took the information on how they were going to turn me back and realized there was nothing that could be done to stop or undo it. So, it was suggested that I retire and go into hiding. Except it always seemed like people found me.”

“So, the Maldives, Mexico and Thailand really were you?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’m adaptable and a quick learner and would have been happy doing any of those things for the rest of my life but people kept looking for me. Then Pepper Stark let me in on a big secret. Tony survived his encounter with Thanos. He was sick a long time, but he got better. He wanted out, wanted time with her and their daughter so he bought this island and offered me a place to live. The Avengers come here to relax, and I act as chef sometimes, bartender other times, but most of the time I read, work out, swim, and enjoy living a life of peace and quiet.”

“The arm.” I gestured to his apparently flesh left arm.

“It’s an enchantment,” he replied. “The nano mask is problematic on a body part.”

“The commission, it’s really a bounty, isn’t it?” I asked, feeling sick at the thought.

“Yeah, that’s what it is,” he said. “You’re not the first one to come here. They get the information and approach someone to come to the island, bribing their way onto it, a woman usually.” I could see him smile in the deepening twilight. “They think I’m lonely and that I can be seduced. Occasionally, they send a man, but I like women better.”

I looked back down the beach, seeing the outline of Tony and Clint. “They’re in jeopardy as well, aren’t they?”

“Yup, all three of us just want to live a quiet life without anyone bothering us.” He shifted to face me. “Tony lets the incursion happen wanting to see if the person is aware of how they’re being used or if they’re an actual operative. I figured out pretty easily that you weren’t aware.”

“I got drunk and blabby,” I smiled. “That’s me. I’m so sorry you’re going through this, for all of you. They haven’t figured out that Tony and Clint are part of it, have they?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. It’s been close, close enough that Tony has bought another island and is in the process of setting up there. He’ll sell this one, bury the sale in layers of straw sellers and buyers so that they can’t make the connection. We’ll go to another place and start over.” He stood up, gazing at me as I stood up in front of him. “Out of all the women that have made it here I was attracted to you the most. For a brief moment I pictured a life here with you.”

“I won’t tell them where you are,” I said. “None of you have to fear that.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But it’s not that easy.” Even in the dark, his eyes became glassy. “They can’t take any chances and although they won’t hurt you, they won’t let you remember what happened here. It’s better that way, safer for us and for you. I’m sorry.”

I understood suddenly what he meant, remembering the angry woman who was leaving as I was arriving. She was there for the bounty, but her memories were altered so all she remembered was being treated poorly at a high-end resort. It’s what they would do to me.

“Do I get the week still?”

“No, you go out tomorrow,” he replied. “I wish it were longer so that we could ….”

“It’s alright,” I smiled, then I became bold, one final time. “Would you stay with me tonight?”

He looked down the beach to where the two men were, now joined by a third, the young woman. Gently, he touched my cheek and kissed me. All I wanted was to be in his arms for the few hours I had left there. Afterwards, they would take the memory of him from my mind, and I would lose him. But to keep him and the others safe, maybe it was worth that sacrifice. We ended up in my bungalow and made love in a way that I would have remembered for the rest of my life, except I didn’t. The last thing I did before I fell asleep was cry in his arms as he consoled me with soft words and kisses.

🧳 🛫

“I have never been so humiliated in my life,” I said to Antoine as he waited for me to finish packing. “I paid for a week and just because I got drunk, you’re kicking me out?”

“Yup,” he answered. “You were offensive to the guests and the staff, and we just don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour at our resort. I have radioed our lawyer to tell your publisher that any article produced by you will be considered libellous. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s time for you to go.”

I was furious but what choice did I have. It was written in the booking contract that any unsavoury behaviour by the guest was grounds for immediate cancellation of the booking. It also meant my writing career was pretty finished. No one would ask me to write for them, knowing this happened. Somehow, I kept my tongue as Antoine transported me to the dock. Unlike my arrival there was no one waiting for the ride back to the resort. There was Jake, however, with Kelly and Curtis waiting to see me off in my disgrace.

“Assholes, all of them,” I thought.

I grabbed my suitcase and began the walk of shame towards the seaplane where Jerry was waiting. To his credit he said nothing then nor for the entire flight back to Nassau. I went straight to the airport there and flew back to New York, where a message awaited me on my email to say the contract for the travel piece was cancelled and good luck in finding another publisher. They also told me I was lucky they weren’t going to sue me for the non-refundable cost of the resort stay.

Over the next few months, I worked at a Trader Joe’s. It paid the bills and gradually I got over the humiliation of losing my credibility as a writer when word came out that the perpetrators of a 10-million-dollar commission scam that had been making the email rounds were finally behind bars. Apparently, they were part of a terrorist group looking for Bucky Barnes, hoping to turn him back into the Winter Soldier. I couldn’t believe someone would stoop that low to find the man. He deserved to live the rest of his life in peace. There were more rumours about him, a sighting in Tasmania, then another as a crew member on an African safari, but gradually the rumours died down and for several more months there was nothing heard about him.

One day, while I was stocking the shelves at work, I was interrupted by a woman looking for a product. I helped her then realized she was Pepper Stark, blurting her name out then apologizing for saying it.

“That’s alright, Maya,” she said, looking at my name tag. “You’ve been very helpful. Do you like working here?”

I shrugged. “It pays the bills but it’s just a job,” I replied. “I was a writer, but I crossed a line and lost any chance to go further in that field. I regret that now that I’m a little older and wiser.”

She smiled sympathetically at me. “Well, there’s an entry level position at Stark Industries,” she said. “I liked how you helped me today and I don’t mind giving people second chances. Here’s my card. Call the number and set up an interview. Maybe I can help you get out of this job and into something more satisfying.”

I was genuinely surprised and thanked her, calling the number the next day. With an interview set for the next week I was excited at the prospect of something meaningful finally happening for me after my penance. When the day came, I was brought into a conference room with Pepper and several other people. They were all pleasant and asked me all sorts of questions about privacy and respect for boundaries. Everything seemed great then one of them said something strange to me.

“проснуться,” said a man, who repeated it in English. “Wake up.”

I looked around, knowing where I was but realizing that the last six or so months had happened as if I had been somewhere else, watching.

“What’s going on?” I asked Pepper.

The man who spoke smiled and pressed his hand to the side of his face, peeling it off, to reveal Bucky underneath.

As I cried out his name, he opened his arms and I fell into them, almost knocking the chair over.

“It worked, didn’t it?” I exclaimed. “You found them, found the ones who were looking for you.”

“We found them,” he said. “Just had to make sure we found all of them.” He caressed my face, taking all of it in as he gazed at me. “The plans for the machine are still out there so I have to stay hidden. I thought that you ….”

“Yes,” I cried. “Oh God yes. I’ll go with you anywhere. Just don’t take my memories again. I want to remember everything we do, because I don’t plan on ever leaving your side.”

He looked at both Tony and Clint, who had also taken their masks off. “Told you she was the one.”

“Alright,” said Tony, taking charge. “Pepper, you’ll take care of clearing out Maya’s apartment and getting her things to the new location? She won’t need anything for winter anymore. Bucky, you’re in charge of teaching her what she needs to know about living in hiding, including self-defence. She has to be ready to defend herself if they ever come looking again. Maya, welcome to the rest of your life but don’t forget to phone Trader Joe’s and quit.”

The other two men put their masks back on and left the conference room with Pepper while Bucky and I stayed there.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just knew I didn’t want to go without you. It will be warm; I can promise you that. Tony will have a lab to work in. If you want to write under a pseudonym, he’ll build you an office, and will line up a publisher. I’ll mix drinks, cook some meals, maybe raise some goats if the land is right. I did it in Wakanda and enjoyed it. Just so long as we’re together. I missed you.”

He kissed me again, just like he did on the beach of Lunatum Island, which I found out was Latin for crescent. With that first kiss I knew I was with the right man and went along with the plan to remove my memories, keeping me safe. This kiss in the boardroom confirmed it. There would be a life to live with this incredibly wonderful man; a life of peace and quiet that he craved and deserved. Like the Avengers, I would do my part to keep him safe from those who would exploit him. It was a lifetime commitment, but it would be a lifetime with Bucky and that was worth everything.

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[legendary-pink-dot]

Home at Sunset

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x reader (no gender specified, but female in my mind)

Rating: Mature. A couple references to sexual activity.

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Frankie and his aviators. Sunrise, sunset, and all the moments in between.

Notes: No use of "Y/N". No mention of Frankie's canon child. Angsty as hell; I am SO sorry, Frankie and Frankie's emotionally tortured and misunderstood lady.

A sunrise

Civil twilight gives rise to the first rays of sun. It's a sudden flash in the cockpit as they reach the end of the Andes mountain range and the start of the ocean, where their getaway boat awaits them. Frankie gently nudges the helicopter a shade higher, his touch confident but featherlight. So focused he forgets to put on his aviator sunglasses to protect his sight.

"Alright, baby, alright..." As snipers treat their weapons as a beloved and animate object, so too does Frankie with every aircraft he pilots, simultaneously guiding them and giving them exactly what they need.

One final ridge to clear and they'll have put this mission behind them. A mission that had gone wrong right from of the start, their team leader ignoring his instincts in favor of greed, and Frankie and his teammates making the mistake of not standing up to him. The result was having to do things other what they went there for, and running against time to leave with their stolen money and their lives.

"Come on now, come on..." he croons, just as sweetly as he did to you every night when he was home in happier times. A touch more elevation, *right there, just like that,* that's all it would take to get over the peak. She's close, so close, and he's almost there, he's got you...

**bang**

The gearbox blows and the helo suddenly drops, a plunging freefall that brings fearful shouts from his teammates. Frankie is the pilot you can trust, the calm in any storm. That's why he's always chosen. He furiously recalculates, readjusts, recalibrates on the fly, letting his years of experience and training take over.

In the few safe seconds he has left, he makes a controlled descent into the smoothest patch of jungle he can find, fatally spinning out but saving his team.

The loss of their transport hurts more than their cuts and bruises, but it's not the most pressing issue at the moment. Their landing site is remote and full of angry villagers, half fearful of the intrusion and half eager to claim the bags of stolen money that fell from the sky.

The slaughter that happens next is not his fault, yet he supposes it somehow is. The team silently loads the loot onto mules while Frankie packs away every poor decision that led to this moment, leaving the heaviest of baggage to deal with later as they make their slow and perilous trek towards home.

One early morning

"They trust me. They're putting their lives in my hands. It's my job to keep them safe."

It was Frankie's usual justification for going on private missions after retiring from the service, and he had used it again just hours before he was set to leave, both of you still agitated and arguing well into the early hours past midnight.

He takes that responsibility seriously -- too seriously you thought, wondering why he was willing to risk himself and his newfound peace of mind again for a team that didn't truly appreciate him. It was a rhetorical question and you knew it. "What about your responsibility to me? To us? You never come all the way back from these trips, and I hate seeing what it does to you."

Frankie had merely shrugged, raising his hands as if to say, "I have no choice." You knew he didn't, in a way. His loyalty to his teammates, his comrades, his friends ran deeper than you could ever hope to understand. It had helped fuel your love for him, but was also the source of your greatest pain, having to help Frankie put himself back together every time a piece of him was broken off.

"It's just recon," he'd promised. "It's safe. Easy money and no flying. I'll be home in 3 or 4 days." His voice had been calm but you heard the premonition of doubt floating below it. Never a good sign. A good pilot trusts their instincts, and Frankie was one of the best.

You had clung to each other that night, resigned to whatever fate the mission would decide to bring you, the risk always present of him not coming back and this moment being your last chance to savor him. You'd rocked against him, close and tight in his lap for an eternity, chasing a high that usually came easily but for once eluded you. A premonition twinned to Frankie's that you couldn't let go of, or for.

You'd woken a few hours later to discover he'd left while it was still pitch black outside. He hadn't waited for that pre-dawn time you usually love to languish in together, when he quietly slides thick and hot and sweet inside you, free but moored, both of you suspended in time and feeling like the world is holding its breath just for you. You'd slept in too late to catch the moment. You wondered when you'll be allowed to capture another.

An afternoon

It's been a full 5 days without any contact from Frankie, and none of the team's partners had heard anything either. That wasn't normal, but it had happened before. Going no-contact during a private mission was critical for your safety and theirs. You couldn't do anything but trust, hope, and wait.

As you finish your lunch, it's raining hard. You reach into the hallway closet for your umbrella, pausing beside the accessory rack and noticing for the first time since he left that he'd taken the wrong pair of aviator sunglasses with him. He was supposed to take his usual mission pair with the polarized lenses for high contrast, but had apparently taken his daily-wear mirrored chrome ones instead. "Just recon. No flying," he'd said. Right.

The same dread from that earlier promise returns and throttles you. You wish wherever Frankie is right now and whatever he's dealing with, that his vision is clear. It's the best you can hope for.

The sunset

Cars pass your house without stopping, a dog barks, kids are in the street playing out their last few minutes of dusky freedom. The golden hour passed long ago, and you've sat through 7 of them now without Frankie, sitting at your kitchen table paralyzed with fear and doubt. This is your 8th and you don't know how many more you can take.

You know the sound of Frankie's truck intimately: the purr of the well-tuned motor maintained by a dedicated mechanic, how the gravel in the driveway crunches differently than when underfoot the lighter wheels of your hatchback. You hear it now and wonder if it's a mirage. This announcement of his arrival is a sound you'd almost given up hoping for, and you let out the breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

You sprint to the door and fling it open. Most people would see a tired but normal Frankie walking up your driveway, but all you see is a shell, a ghostly being you recognize from the homecoming of previous missions. It's less of a soul and more of an enclosure for heavy burdens like relief, survivor's guilt, and personal recriminations. Your heart leaps and you forget every frustrated, hopeless word that was said the night before he left.

He drags himself up the flight of steps and falters. You see yourself reflected in his mirrored aviators, and you gently reach out to remove them so you can search his eyes for what you need to see.

Night closes in, the final tint of daylight fades, and Frankie falls into your arms and breaks.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Landsat Plumbs the (Shallow) Depths

As the workhorses for Earth science from space, Landsat satellites have imaged Earth’s land surfaces uninterrupted for over 50 years. The missions continue to execute on the big idea of consistent, long-term observations. But limiting observations to land would have kept Landsat from its full potential.

Scientists at the U.S. Geological Survey have developed a new way to measure ocean depth, or bathymetry, in shallow nearshore environments using Landsat data. By applying a sophisticated physics-based algorithm to satellite observations, their method offers an expedient way to map the seafloor from space without relying on prior depth measurements. Deriving bathymetry from satellites—a process researchers have been refining for decades—can fill in many mapping gaps in coastal areas and provide up-to-date information critical for modeling water movement, tracking coastal changes, studying coral reef habitats, and more.

The new method, described in a 2024 paper in the journal Remote Sensing, relies upon visible-light observations by the OLI (Operational Land Imager) and OLI-2 (Operational Land Imager-2) sensors on the Landsat 8 and 9 satellites, coupled with a heavy dose of physics calculations. In shallow enough seas, sunlight penetrates the water and reflects off the seafloor. Scientists can then relate the reflected light as “seen” by the satellite to water depth.

The calculation is relatively straightforward in clear water with a bright bottom. But it becomes more complex, for example, when light interacts with sediment or plankton in the water column or a grass-covered seafloor. The USGS researchers developed the algorithm to correct for these types of effects on reflected light, as well as those caused by particles in the atmosphere and the reflection of the sky off the water, to determine water depth.

This algorithm was applied to several coastal areas containing coral reefs, including the Florida Keys, shown here. The depth map (right) shows shallow channels cutting between low-lying islands, also called cays or keys. The shallow linear feature running across the bottom of the image is part of Florida’s stretch of coral reefs, which spans 350 miles (560 kilometers) from end to end. The bathymetric map is shown relative to a natural-color Landsat image of the same area (left).

In clear water, it is possible to map depths greater than 20 meters (65 feet), much deeper than expected, said Minsu Kim, the remote sensing and ocean optics expert who led the method’s development. Crucially, the method works without external calibration, although it can be refined by incorporating bathymetry measurements from other sources. The tradeoff is that the model accounts for the optical properties of common ocean components, such as phytoplankton and suspended solids in the water column, and grass or sand on the seafloor. If uncommon components such as a bloom of a specific phytoplankton species or a rare kind of dark volcanic sea floor are present, the model becomes less accurate.

Coral reef zones were good candidates for piloting this method because they influence sediment transport, affect coastal erosion, and provide critical habitat to much of the world’s marine life, said physical geographer Jeff Danielson, co-author of the paper and leader of the USGS Coastal National Elevation Database (CoNED) Applications Project. These environments can also change dramatically over time and would benefit from more frequent re-mapping made possible by satellite-derived bathymetry.

Despite the need for refined shallow-water maps, however, producing them has remained a practical and technical challenge. Bathymetric mapping has traditionally relied upon ship-based sonar and aircraft-based lidar—both cost- and labor-intensive endeavors.

The quest to outsource this onus to satellites includes a pioneering effort by oceanographer Jacques Cousteau. In the 1975 NASA-Cousteau Bathymetry Experiment, Cousteau and a team of divers aboard the Calypso played leapfrog with the Landsat 1 and 2 satellites around the Bahamas and Florida. They would position themselves directly underneath each day’s satellite pass, and divers would measure water clarity, light transmission, and bottom reflectivity. Data from the trip showed that in clear waters with a bright seafloor, Landsat could measure depths up to 22 meters (72 feet).

The cross-purposing of remote sensing instruments for bathymetry has continued from there. Subsequent techniques have included using turbidity as imaged by Landsat as a proxy for depth; combining altimetry measurements from NASA’s ICESat-2 (Ice, Cloud, and land Elevation Satellite-2) with ship-based sonar; deriving depth from stereo imagery; and applying an algorithm to digital photography from the International Space Station.

With the new satellite-based method in hand, Kim, Danielson, and colleagues are looking to scale up nearshore measurements. For example, they want to map waters around Pacific islands and atolls, where data is currently lacking but would be useful for modeling waves, sediment transport, and other processes. Maps are also blank for large portions of coastal Alaska, where hazards including harsh weather, seasonal sea ice, and strong currents have made conventional mapping work difficult.

In the United States alone, coastal waters are currently only 52 percent mapped, Danielson noted. Initiatives such as the National Ocean Mapping, Exploration, and Characterization (NOMEC) and the global Seabed 2030 project are working to increase mapping coverage, alongside the USGS’s CoNED pursuit to assimilate data that now includes Landsat-derived water depth. “It’s one of the hot topics in geospatial sciences right now,” said Danielson. “There is a niche to fill in bathymetry gaps with a new tier of data.”

NASA Earth Observatory images by Wanmei Liang, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey and data from Kim, M., et al. (2024). Story by Lindsey Doermann.

[againsttheskull]

Destroyer

(Masterlist)

It was the first sunny day of the season and they had spent it out over the water. By the morning light, the sea was blinding. Each steel gray battleship reflected the White Sun’s rays right into the cockpit. The aircraft, small and inconspicuous, hovered above the enemy fleet like a nervous fairy. It was no weapon of war. The shipmen down below took notice and little green lines of inquiry began to flash upon the craft’s receiver. 

The pilot tilted the screen down and positioned the craft a good mile away from the north-most ship. A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a finger pointed in the right direction, and then the unbearable cacophony of steel rendering.

The sea rushed in to fill the gap, causing massive waves to rock the once-still ocean. Where the SS Iselin had been only seconds prior, there now sat a deformed metal mass no larger than the length of a truck. The surrounding water filled with a reddish color, blood and oil escaping the same clutch. As the radio went wild between the remaining fleet ships, the broken body of the Iselin sunk quietly beneath the waves. There were no survivors. Delta had been twelve.

The hovercraft took him back to dry land. The Emperor, the only person the show had ever really been for, stood up to shake the hands of the pilot, of the scientists, and of his Admiral who had pushed so hard for the demonstration. The Emperor lowered himself to speak to Delta, the way you might any child, and saw the tremors all through his body, the cold sweat of convulsions. The Emperor wiped Delta’s hair from his face and said no more.

He was returned to his own quarters back at the institute. The nurse had to hold up one side of him just to make it down the hall. He kept it together as he’d been taught to while in company, but back in his own territory he could no longer suppress the nausea. He spent most of the night on the cold tile floor of his bathroom, as the doctors and the scientists buzzed around taking vitals and hooking him up to strange machines.

By the next week, the deal was done. The royal guards had been sent to collect him. All that he owned could fit into one suitcase, which the director had packed for him personally. The director had also picked who would be leaving with him as a charge - one physician, one scientist. Dr.Martino’s grip tightened harshly on his neck whenever he fidgeted too much. Dr.Yanna had a bad drinking habit. Delta was not happy about these choices, even from the most remote corner of his mind. But he had learned to tolerate both of them at the institute and could appreciate the familiarity. He wasn’t scared of the guards. He kept his head down until they arrived at the palace - and long after that too.

It had presented an interesting but not unprecedented engineering problem, finding out where to keep him. In the past week, they had built the basement up with the same dense psychic insulation that the institute had perfected. Delta had five hundred square feet of space, at the time sparsely furnished. His vague hope was that while in the isolated chamber, they would remove the dampening collar from around his neck. But they left him there with no mention of it. He thought back to the wreckage of the Iselin and realized it was unlikely the collar would ever come off again. He rubbed at the raw skin idly, leaning against the new bed frame. The space was larger than his old room had been, but he had not gotten up to explore it. He sensed that the guards would not like to open up the chamber doors and find him anywhere they had not left him. It was the inclination of many third parties to treat the psionics like machinery - and to be disconcerted by anything that contracted this. Besides that, he knew they were scared of him. As isolated as he had been, even in such ascetic surroundings, he could read fear. It radiated off all of them now.

(Part II)

[usafphantom2]

In the next few hours history will be made as a USAF RQ-4 Global Hawk Remotely Piloted Aircraft System (RPAS) lands at RAF Fairford. Over two years in the planning and heralding a new era of drone operations from Gloucestershire base 👀 #AvGeek #RadioGeek #MilMonWorld l

@MilMonWorld via X

[misejercitos]

Cazas F-16 de la Fuerza Aérea de Rumania en acción por primera vez en los cielos de España

Aviones de combate F-16 están operando estas semanas sobre los cielos de España, varios de la Fuerza Aérea de Turquía y, por primera vez, de la de Rumania están participando en el curso de élite de la OTAN TLP, que tiene sede en la base aérea del Ejército del Aire y del Espacio de Albacete. Tras el verano ha comenzado una nueva edición del curso de vuelo del programa de liderazgo táctico TLP (Tactical Leadership Program), el denominado FC (Flight Course) 2024-3 comenzaba el 16 de septiembre, y concluirá el viernes 4 de octubre, con una duración de 3 semanas. El TLP recibirá unas 650 personas, 34 de ellos se graduarán en este curso, todo un referente en el ámbito de la OTAN, serán 22 pilotos, 6 oficiales de inteligencia y 6 controladores aéreos. Los vuelos, que se realizan de lunes a viernes en periodo de tarde, dieron comienzo el 23 de septiembre, ya que la primera semana se dedica a la actividad académica y a vuelos en simulador. Las naciones participantes en el bando Blue aportarán 18 plataformas, serán España con aviones Eurofighter, Francia con sus aviones de combate Dassault Aviation Mirage 2000D y Mirage 2000-5, Estados Unidos con los espectaculares biplazas F-15E Strike Eagle, y Rumanía y Turquía con F-16. Destaca la presencia por primera vez en España de aviones de combate de la Fuerza Aérea de Rumania, que trasladó a Albacete tres de sus F-16AM MLU (Mid Life Update o Actualización de Media Vida). Esta fuerza aérea de la OTAN adquirió una docena de estos cazas a Portugal de segunda mano en la pasada década, a los que luego sumó otros 5 de la misma procedencia, estando ahora en proceso de recibir otros 32, tras darlos de baja la Real Fuerza Aérea de Noruega. En cuanto a la participación del bando oponente (Red Air), cuentan con un total de 6 aeronaves, siendo las naciones participantes: España con Eurofigher, F-18A y F-18M de sus Alas 11, 46 y 12 respectivamente; y Estados Unidos con los referidos F-15E, de los que en total han llegado a Albacete una docena desde su base de RAF (Royal Air Force)-Lakenheath (centro de Inglaterra), que forma parte de la Fuerza Aérea de los Estados Unidos en Europa o United States Air Force Europe (USAFE). Como apoyo a la realización del curso de vuelo se cuenta, como es ya habitual desde la implantación del TLP en España en 2008, con el concurso de medios de Mando y Control del Ejército del Aire y del Espacio español (EA) durante la ejecución de las misiones. Es de destacar también la participación del avión remotamente tripulado o RPAS (Remotely Piloted Aircraft Systems) MQ-9 Predator B (NR-05) del Ala 23, así como de dos instructores belgas especialistas en misiones de rescate de personal y equipos adicionales de control aéreo táctico americanos y españoles. Como amenaza antiaérea está prevista la participación de sistemas reales de defensa aérea del Ejército del Aire y del Espacio, misiles antiaéreos MBDA Mistral y el de simulación, que realiza la iluminación a las aeronaves con láser o radar Textron Mallina, del que ya hablamos en defensa.com Para simular amenazas también se cuenta con varios sistemas de simulación de la empresa americana Polygon, junto con el sistema del Armée de l´Air et de l´Espace francés ARPEGE que, como los medios españoles, estarán desplegados en distintas zonas del área de operación. Respecto a la intervención de otros medios aéreos, en el ámbito de la búsqueda y rescate en combate o Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) de las tripulaciones abatidas se espera la participación en misiones específicas de un helicóptero NH 90 del Ejército del Aire y del Espacio en el bando Blue Air, junto con sus respectivos equipos de extracción, y de dos helicópteros Sikorsky MH-60R Seahawk de la Marina de los Estados Unidos en el bando Red. También se contará con la colaboración de un avión de transporte táctico C295 del Ala 35. Finalmente, desde las instalaciones del TLP se continuará utilizando el avanzado simulador de vuelo (MACE), que permite entrenar a los pilotos no solo en el entorno virtual, también interactuar con las aeronaves en misiones reales a través de avanzados protocolos de comunicación. Fuente: Read the full article