#Ross rifle

[redarmyscreaming]

Canadian soldiers exchange their malfunctioning Ross rifles for the much better Lee-Enfield .303. Circa 1915.

[redarmyscreaming]

Still with Ross Rifles.

Canadians of the 22nd Regiment (Van Doos) in the trenches. July 1916.

[ashen--dreams]

guns ! arent ! toys !

[fawnsuga]

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎡⠀ ݁🕯️⠀⠀eric david harris⠀⠀၇ৎܵ⠀𓎢𓎟𓎡

Eric David Harris Date of Birth: April 9, 1981 Height: 5 feet 6.5 inches Weight: 135-140 pounds

Eric David Harris was the 18-year-old son of Wayne Nelson Harris and Katherine (Kathy) Ann [Pool] Harris. He had one sibling, a brother named Kevin Harris, who was 21 at the time of Eric's passing.

Born in Wichita, Kansas, Eric grew up in a family with Colorado roots. His father, Wayne Harris, served in the Air Force as a transport pilot, holding various positions at multiple bases across Ohio, Michigan, and New York. Katherine Harris was a stay-at-home mother. The family resided in Plattsburgh, New York, until Wayne was forced to retire from the military in 1993 due to budget cuts. At his 20th high school reunion, Wayne expressed that his primary goal in life was to raise two good sons.

Eric was described as a "normal" teenager during his time in Plattsburgh. Former classmate Kyle Ross remarked, "My mouth just dropped. He was a typical kid. He didn't seem anything like what is portrayed on TV."

In July 1993, the Harris family relocated to Colorado, where Wayne secured a position with Flight Safety Services Corporation in Englewood, and Kathy found work as a caterer. Eric attended Ken Caryl Middle School, where he met Dylan Klebold in the seventh or eighth grade. They became close friends and spent considerable time together.

Initially, the Harrises rented their home for three years after moving to Colorado. Eric began attending Columbine High School in 1995. In 1996, the family purchased a $180,000 home just south of Columbine High School on Pierce Street. Eric met Brooks Brown on the school bus, with their residences in close proximity. Although Dylan had been friends with Brooks since first grade, they had lost touch when they attended different schools. Eric also met Nate Dykeman in Spanish class during the eighth grade, introducing him to Dylan, and forming a close-knit group of friends.

During his freshman year, Eric met Tiffany Typher in German class and took her to homecoming, which was their only date. When she declined to go out with him again, Eric staged a fake suicide, lying on the ground with fake blood. He later wrote in her yearbook (and Nate Dykeman's): "Ich bin Gott" - "I am God." In January 1997, during their sophomore year at Columbine, Eric and Dylan were arrested for breaking into a van but were released early due to positive participation in a juvenile diversion program.

That same year, Eric and Dylan were employed at Blackjack Pizza, where they later purchased one of the firearms used in the Columbine shootings from Mark Manes, a connection facilitated by their co-worker, Philip Duran. Robyn Anderson, a close friend of Dylan's, purchased two shotguns and a rifle, which she then provided to the teenagers who would later carry out the Columbine High School shooting. Eric and Dylan recorded a video of themselves using the firearms at Rampart Range with Manes and his friend Jessica Miklich, practicing with sawed-off shotguns and using bowling pins and pine trees as targets.

Eric and Dylan engaged in various mischiefs at Blackjack Pizza, including setting off fireworks in the back alley and booby-trapping the fence. They even set a fire in the kitchen sink on one occasion. Chris Morris, one of Eric's best friends, also worked at Blackjack Pizza and was arrested on April 20 due to suspicions of involvement in the shootings, though he was later cleared.

In 1997, Wayne Harris began keeping a diary documenting Eric's behavioral issues, which escalated after a falling out with Brooks Brown. According to Brooks' book, No Easy Answers: The Truth Behind Death at Columbine High School, the conflict began when Brooks was consistently late in giving Eric rides to school. After Eric confronted him multiple times, Brooks, who was not receiving gas money, suggested Eric find another ride. In retaliation, Eric broke Brooks' windshield with a rock and terrorized the Brown household with pranks, including placing firecrackers on their windowsill. Eric documented these actions in his personal journals and on websites.

The harassment prompted the Browns to contact law enforcement and Eric's parents. Although Eric apologized, tensions persisted, particularly after he posted Brooks' phone number in an online rant. This incident marked the beginning of Wayne Harris's documentation of his son's troubling behavior.

In January 1998, Eric and Dylan broke into a van and stole electronic equipment, leading to their arrest and sentencing to community service through the Juvenile Diversion Program. Eric expressed intense anger over this incident in his diary, yet presented a remorseful demeanor to his parents and the judge, resulting in early release from his sentence. Concurrently, Kathy began taking Eric to a therapist to address his anger management issues.

Eric aspired to join the Marines and took steps to apply; however, his application was rejected shortly before the shootings. At the time, he was taking Luvox® (Fluvoxamine maleate), an SSRI antidepressant prescribed for his anger management therapy, and had undergone surgery to correct a sunken sternum.

There are theories suggesting that side effects of Luvox® may have contributed to the tragic events, as many antidepressants now carry warnings about potential increases in violent or suicidal thoughts. Friends reported that Eric may have stopped taking the medication shortly before the rampage, which could have triggered a more violent reaction. Sudden cessation of antidepressants can exacerbate negative side effects and, in some cases, lead to severe outcomes. The autopsy report indicated low therapeutic levels of Luvox® in Eric's system at the time of his death. Luvox® typically has a washout period of about 14 days for a 60 mg/day prescription, with starting dosages generally at 50 mg/day and potentially increasing to 300 mg/day as needed. The drug is highly reactive to other substances, including alcohol and marijuana. Evidence suggests that Eric consumed alcohol and smoked tobacco, and friends indicated he may have used marijuana as well.

Eric was unaware of the rejection of his application. The recruiting officer could not reach him to inform him before the shootings. However, Eric's mother mentioned the drug during his meeting with the recruiter, which may have led him to believe his chances were lost, as he had not disclosed his use of an antidepressant during the application process. Friends indicated that Eric believed he would not be entering the military.

In the years leading up to the shootings, Eric was highly active on the internet, exploring its emerging landscape. Judy Brown, Brooks' mother, noted that she frequently saw Eric sitting in front of his computer, raising concerns about the amount of time he spent online. Eric and Dylan had their computers networked to play Doom together, with Eric maintaining a more substantial online presence. His webpages (under the aliases REB, Rebel, Rebdoomer, Rebdomine) garnered significant attention following the shootings, particularly due to the rants released to the public years after the investigation concluded.

The media's initial focus centered around two specific sites: the Doom II site Eric created around 1996 on WBS, and the WBS site prominently featured by news outlets, which contained only the lyrics to KMFDM's "Son of a Gun." The band distanced itself from the Trenchcoat Mafia and the shooters, as did various individuals listed on Eric's site. Marilyn Manson was also implicated by the media, despite no evidence suggesting he or Dylan were fans of his music. Manson publicly condemned the actions taken at Columbine.

A guest from the goth scene noted during a 20/20 broadcast discussing the shootings, "Yeah, blame the music, the clothes..." This reflects a common narrative where societal issues are attributed to external influences rather than examining the underlying problems within families and educational systems.

Eric participated in discussions on WBS (Web Broadcasting System), a platform that has since merged with the GO network. Copies of Eric's user profile remain accessible from before the merger. He was also an active AOL user, with screenshots of his profiles and notes available.

Other websites created by Eric included "Jo Mamma," a page featuring 'yo mama' jokes, along with another WBS page of KMFDM lyrics and a more explicit, threatening site on AOL that included rants about Brooks Brown and violent intentions toward Littleton. Brooks' parents, informed by Dylan Klebold of the website, filed a police report.

Following the Browns' report of internet threats, Eric began documenting his plans to attack Columbine. Speculation suggests they initially intended to carry out the attack on April 19 to coincide with the anniversaries of the Oklahoma City bombing and the Waco siege but later chose April 20 to align with the release of KMFDM's album Adios or potentially due to it being Hitler's birthday. The exact reasoning behind their chosen date remains unclear.

The so-called "graphic content" referenced by the media primarily consisted of images from Doom II. The "demonic pictures" in Eric's notebook were also mainly from the game. Eric maintained a collection of Doom and Quake graphics on his AOL website, but the more alarming content was the rants he published about his disdain for the world, targeting everyone, not just specific groups.

In the months leading up to the shootings, Eric and Dylan recorded their intentions to attack the school and its inhabitants on videotapes (the Basement Tapes), in school assignments, and in journals. Eric created detailed floor plans of Columbine and noted peak times in the lunchroom. In videos filmed in Eric's basement bedroom, where they showcased their weapons fitting under their trench coats, they expressed contempt for their peers, referencing individuals by name.

Eric died in the library from a self-inflicted shotgun wound, placing the barrel in his mouth before pulling the trigger. Conspiracy theories surrounding the circumstances of his and Dylan's deaths have circulated, fueled by the release of forensic photographs. However, these images were taken after thorough searches by the bomb squad, and neither body appeared in the positions initially found.

The Harris family relocated from Littleton shortly after the shootings, seeking to rebuild their lives. While they appreciate the support of well-wishers, they do not wish to be contacted regarding Columbine.

April 9, 1981 - April 20, 1999 Eric was an intelligent individual with a high GPA and a keen interest in not only playing video games but also in designing his own levels. He developed several levels for Doom and Quake, sharing them with friends from Columbine and online acquaintances. His friends characterized him as humorous and bright, though he could become intensely angry.

Eric and Dylan were classmates in a video production course, collaborating on home videos with friends.

Eric had a fondness for animals, particularly his Yorkshire Terrier, Sparky, who suffered from seizures. He also had a strong affinity for cats. His friend Alyssa Sechler noted that her cat adored Eric, and they shared a special bond. Alyssa described Eric as someone who greeted her with warm hugs, though he struggled with self-confidence and often felt inferior to his peers.

Like Dylan, Eric faced challenges with depression and feelings of worthlessness, particularly in the school environment, where he was subjected to ridicule by jocks.

He did not have a funeral, and if a private memorial service was held, details have never been disclosed. According to Jeffrey Toobin's book Homegrown, Eric was cremated, and his ashes were stored in an evidence locker under the supervision of private investigator Ellis Armistead, hired by the Harris family.

On June 11, 2001, Armistead placed the remains of Timothy McVeigh into a locker next to Eric Harris's cremains. Although there are rumors that Eric's ashes remain in this locker, the source does not confirm their current status.

On April 21, 1999, Eric Harris's body was taken directly to the Jefferson County Coroner's Office in Golden, CO, located at 800 Jefferson County Parkway #1000, Golden, CO 80401.

[hrrtshape]

　　 THE ROLES IN MY FAME DR. . .

quiet, quiet !!! centre stage, lights dimmed, audience hushed. my fame dr is essentially me winning the metaphorical acting olympics while everyone else is still lacing up their shoes. it’s, like, a line-up of roles so iconic, so overpowered, it’s like i’m thanos snapping my way through hollywood history. i wanted the cookie, and i baked the whole bakery.

here’s the rundown.....each role is a slice of cinematic perfection, OKAY, served with a side of "how does she do it? why does she do it?? how many oscars do you need??" energy.

　꒰ 2002. . . ' PONETTE ' as ponette. — picture a four-year-old (shut up) absolutely devastating audiences, grappling with grief and holding onto the wisp of hope that her mom might waltz back from the afterlife. tiny me..... heartbreaking. oscar-worthy. a pint-sized tour de force !!!

　꒰ 2006. . . ' LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE ' as olive. — quirky underdog vibes. a beauty pageant dreamer dragged through chaos on a family road trip. big glasses, bigger heart. adorable chaos incarnate.

　꒰ 2007. . . ' LÉON: THE PROFESSIONAL ' as mathilda. — street-smart, sharp-tongued, and navigating grief and revenge. turned “child assassin vibes” into a genre.... unlikely bond with a hitman? groundbreaking.

　꒰ 2008. . . ' ATONEMENT ' as briony tallis. — precocious young writer turned accidental chaos agent. one little misunderstanding, and boom !! tragedy for everyone. the literary girls wept.

　꒰ 2009. . . ' TRUE GRIT ' as mattie ross. — fearless teen avenger with a rifle and a vengeance. sharp-tongued, sharp-shooting. unstoppable.

　꒰ 2011. . . ' LOLITA ' as lolita /// dolores haze. — a beguiling and precocious girl cloaked in innocence but steeped in rebellion, a mix of youthful charm and intoxicating danger. made everyone very uncomfortable because it wasn't directed by a pervert but instead an actual person who understood the book !!

　꒰ 2012. . . ' MOONRISE KINGDOM ' as suzy. — whimsical runaway girl with a suitcase full of records and big dreams, embarking on an adventurous and heartfelt runaway journey with her first love.

　꒰ 2013. . . ' BLACK SWAN ' as nina sayers. — the drama. the descent into madness on the basis of perfection. a ballerina teetering on the edge of perfection and chaos.

　꒰ 2014. . . ' THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL ' as agatha. — the sweet baker who saves the day in a pastel-hued, heist-filled fever dream. you could say i was the cinnamon roll that held the plot together.

　꒰ 2015. . . ' CINDERELLA ' as cinderella. — glass slippers, big dreams, unapologetic faith in the universe. cottagecore princess moment.

　꒰ 2017. . . ' LADY BIRD ' as christine "lady bird" mcpherson. — high school angst meets big-city dreams. small-town girl, big personality, fiercely independent. greta gerwig girlies cheered.

　꒰ 2019. . . ' ROMEO AND JULIET ' (dir. sofia coppola) as juliet. — tragic romance, youthful rebellion, a modernised shakespearean masterpiece. the english teachers are obsessed.

　꒰ 2019. . . ' ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD ' as sharon tate. — an enchanting actress and rising star, embodying the golden glow of hollywood’s bygone era with grace and optimism.

　꒰ 2019. . . ' LITTLE WOMEN ' as amy march. — ambitious, artistic, unapologetically confident. justice for amy achieved!!!

　꒰ 2019. . . ' STRANGE COLOURS ' (dir. david lynch) as naste. — struggling sculptor in post-war 1950s paris, whose pursuit of success leads her to morally complex decisions in a crime and punishment-inspired tale.

　꒰ 2020. . . ' THE QUEEN'S GAMBIT ' as beth harmon. — a brilliant yet troubled chess prodigy navigating personal demons, ambition, and addiction while conquering a male-dominated world.

　꒰ 2021. . . ' THE FRENCH DISPATCH ' as juliette. — a cynical and enigmatic character in a whimsical anthology capturing the spirit of journalism and artistic eccentricity.

　꒰  2021 . . . ' PROFIL PERDU ' as josée. — a woman caught in a crumbling marriage, drawn into a web of intrigue and liberation when a wealthy magnate offers her a new life filled with possibilities.

　꒰ 2021 & 2023. . . ' SUCCESSION ' as lukas matsson's complicated girlfriend. — it’s giving chaos. it’s giving scandal. the girl who walked into the roy / mattson power vortex and made it just a tad messier.

　꒰ 2022 & 2025. . . ' SEVERANCE ' as helly r. — kafkaesque corporate dystopia, dual personalities, fighting against the machine. the drama of it all.

　꒰ 2022. . . ' X ' as maxine. — it’s sexy, it’s terrifying, it’s iconic. a daring and ambitious young woman pursuing fame in the adult film industry while navigating fear and survival in a horror setting.

　꒰ 2022. . . ' PEARL ' as pearl. — a dreamer turned unhinged by isolation and frustration, whose violent tendencies emerge as her craving for stardom spirals into tragedy.

　꒰ 2023. . . ' POOR THINGS ' as bella baxter. — a curious and eccentric woman reborn into a surreal world, exploring life with uninhibited wonder and self-discovery. an eccentric frankenstein moment.

　꒰ 2023. . . ' THE HUNGER GAMES: THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS & SNAKES ' as livia cardew. — capitol decadence personified. the symbol of privilege and mean-spirituality. as well as coriolanus snow's future wife.

　꒰ 2024. . . ' MAXXXINE ' as maxine. — a raw and determined character fighting to make her mark in a world that feeds on fame, continuing her saga in the x-pearl trilogy.

　꒰ 2025. . . ' FRANKENSTEIN ' as the bride. — a haunting and tragic figure, torn due to her her husband's newest project.

that oscar is practically monogrammed with my soul. engraved, embossed, bedazzled in my honour. if possession is nine-tenths of the law, that golden man is legally, spiritually, and cosmically mine. you ever look at something and just know?? that’s me with oscar excellence. signed, sealed, delivered. twice for emphasis.

also....dividers not mine !!!!!

[toomuchracket]

queen of hearts (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

penultimate day of valentine's week. this is a short and sweet one about you appearing at a signing with matty for the first time, a couple of months into dating. enjoy <3

“i really don't know what to wear today.”

matty leans round the doorframe, toothbrush hanging from his mouth exactly the same way a cigarette usually does. “just wear whatever,” he shrugs, voice muffled by toothpaste; he disappears to spit, and smirks at you when he returns. “go like that, even.”

“in my underwear?” you scoff. “who are we? kimye?”

your boyfriend laughs. “i love you.”

you sigh. “if you really did, you'd help me pick out an outfit.”

“baby, it's just an album signing, it's not fashion week. but alright,” matty stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, scrutinising the contents of the two weekend bags you've emptied onto his bed. “i like that skirt there,” he points at a long satin black and white swirly thing. “you could wear it with one of my t-shirts, if you wanted?”

his voice sounds so tender you can't help but smile, leaning round to kiss his cheek. “would you want me to wear one of your t-shirts with it, darling?”

“yeah,” matty nuzzles his face into your neck. “maybe that my bloody valentine top you've secretly had your eye on for years.”

“i have not!”

“liar,” he pinches your bare hip, kissing your neck when you yelp before letting go of you to rifle through his wardrobe. “here,” he returns with the t-shirt. “arms up, sweetheart.”

“m’not a baby, you know,” you grumble, as matty puts the top on for you.

“yeah, you are,” he beams when your face reappears from the fabric, taking it in his hands and kissing all over it. “my baby, my baby.”

“betting on losing dogs, are we?”

“hmm? wait, don’t tell me, i know this one, i do,” your boyfriend closes his eyes, reopening them and squinting in anticipation. “... mitski?”

you cheer, kissing him. “yes!”

he grins. “i listened to that album. liked it.”

“it's a good one,” you pull your skirt on and slip into your shoes; matty automatically kneels to help you lace them. “i think - oh, thanks, babe - yeah, i think i might see if i can buy it on vinyl today, actually.”

“dunno if you'll be able to, darling,” matty kisses your thigh through your skirt. “the amount of fans who've asked me if you're coming today? i reckon you'll be bombarded the whole time.”

“really?”

“yeah. people love you!” your boyfriend stands, kissing you deeply. “but not as much as i do. obv.”

“love you,” you kiss him again. “even when you're being delusional about how popular i am amongst your fanbase.”

“i'm right.”

“whatever you say, baby.”

as much as it pains you to admit it, when you begin to near the record shop in the car, it's clear that he really is. while you're in the middle of a conversation (interrogation, really) with ross about the mutual acquaintance of yours he’s started seeing - a travel photographer you know from condé nast meetings - matty elbows you in the ribs. “sorry, darling, i didn't mean to do that so hard. just got excited,” he grins, gesturing with his head to something on the street outside the window. “look at that girl's tote bag.”

grumbling, rubbing your sore chest, you squint to see what he means; when you do, your jaw drops. “fuck off. is that me?”

“yeah! as one of those saint candles!” matty laughs. “wonder where she got it. i want one. i'm gonna ask,” when the car stops, traffic gridlocked, he opens the window and leans out, while you facepalm and ross winces. “yo! love the tote bag! where'd you get it?”

“i made it!” a voice calls back, barely audible amidst the shrieks of the people around it. “i can make you one, too, matty!”

“would you? oh, thank you, darling. you're coming to the signing, yeah?”

“yeah!”

“alright. we'll talk then. see you!”

“tell your girlfriend i love her!”

matty laughs. “she's right here, she heard!”

the shrieks get even louder. your jaw drops, and ross laughs. “maybe you should wave to them, mate.”

“this is fucking insane,” you mutter in disbelief, undoing your seatbelt and shuffling to sit on matty's lap; his hands make their way around your waist on instinct, and you lean out the window somewhat nervously. “um. hi, guys?”

the scream you get in response is almost deafening - the six girls, none of whom look older than nineteen, look totally ecstatic to see you, squealing your name and waving so excitedly you can't quite comprehend it. you grin, and laugh when the one with the tote bag brandishes it towards you with a cry. “my patron saint!”

“oh, bless you,” you wink, and matty kisses your shoulder (out of sight of the audience) as they all laugh. “how are you guys, anyway? excited?”

the chatter restarts, but the smallest girl piques your attention first. “yeah! this is my first 75 album signing. i'm hyped!”

“is it?” matty pokes his head out, at the exact same time you say “mine too”. he kisses your cheek. “aww, that's cute. i mean, i've been going to your book signings for years, but,” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, and ross laughs from the other side of the car. “whatever.”

you sigh, turning to the girls. “what my darling boyfriend failed to mention is that i'd send him a signed copy - with a personal message, mind you - of everything i published, as pr, and he'd still show up and buy another one and make me sign it,” you ruffle his hair. “matty healy tree murderer confirmed.”

“but that's so sweet,” one of the girls sighs.

matty points at her. “exactly! and,” he looks at you adoringly. “i just like hearing you talk. that's why i came to all the events.”

this isn't news to you, but it melts your heart nonetheless. still, you can't resist - “simp”.

“says the woman who spent three hours watching tiktok edits of me yesterday.”

the girls cackle, collapsing into each other giggling in the unique way only young women do. “real,” one of them shouts, laughing even harder when you salute to her. “oh my god, i love you!”

matty turns to you, smug. “see?” he turns back to the window. “she didn't believe me earlier, when i told her you guys were hoping she'd come with me today. underestimated how much you love her.”

“yeah, yeah,” you rest your head against his. “he’s right, though - this is surprising to me. but very lovely, you guys are sweet.”

“and you guys are perfect,” tote bag girl grins. “seriously. it's so good to see you both so happy. please don't break up, ever, it would be worse for me than my actual parents’ divorce.”

you gasp out an “oh my god”, while matty giggles. “nah, no need to worry,” he looks at you with such tenderness you could cry. “she's it for me, the love of my life; if she leaves me, i'm going with her.”

“as if i'd ever leave you. love you too much to do that,” you scoff, tugging him into you for a hug. a retching noise from the other side of the car breaks your little reverie, and you giggle. “sorry for making you sit through the sappiness, ross.”

“wait, ross is here too?!”

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Please write for Monica Geller x Phoebe's younger sister

I trust you with the plot

The One With Phoebe’s Sister || Monica Geller x Phoebe’s younger sister!reader

⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • f•r•i•e•n•d•s masterlist • monica hcs ⋆୨୧˚

summary: oneshot where phoebe introduces the friends to you, her younger sister, and you are instantly attracted to monica but don’t know that monica is equally smitten with you

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none 

a/n: hope you enjoy this and thanks so much for requesting it. also many apologies it took so long for me to get to this ask and i hope it was worth the wait!! enjoy ✧🍒🎀

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      “Alright everybody this is my sister, (Y/n). (Y/n), this is everybody.”

     Smiling widely, Phoebe gestures from the doorway to you and then to her friends, who are all lounging around the apartment. 

     “Hey,” you say shyly, taking off your jacket and looking around the room at your sister’s friends. “It’s nice to meet you. Phoebe talks about you guys all the time.”

     Your older sister had practically dragged you out of the airport and into the waiting taxi, overly excited to show you New York and everything she loved—you’d already been to her apartment, massage studio, and Central Perk, her favorite coffee shop. Now she beams as she leads you into a cozy apartment with purple walls and nicely arranged furniture. 

     You hang your jacket on the coat hanger and set down your bags as you gaze around the room. 

     “Ok, yay! Now I get to introduce you to everyone!” Phoebe leads you across the threshold into the living room, pointing at her friends as she goes. “This is Ross—” 

     You watch as the man who must be Ross gets up from his seat at the kitchen table and shakes your hand welcomingly 

    “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you say. 

     “The pleasure is all mine,” he replies and you smile.

      Phoebe pulls your arm, “And this is Chandler—” 

     Chandler waves awkwardly from his spot on the back of the couch. “Hey. Hi. Wow you look just like Phoebe. Well not just like Phoebe. Obviously. Because that’s Ursula. What I mean is, I can see the resemblance and you’re pretty, very pretty, and I’m going to stop talking now.”

    You chuckle and look back at your sister. 

     “Oh don’t worry about him, he’s just Chandler.” Phoebe waves a hand in the air. Chandler clutches his chest in mock offense.

     Phoebe continues. “Anyways, oh! This is Rachel.”

     The woman Phoebe refers to walks towards you “Hey sweetie, you must be Phoebe’s little sister. Oh it’s going to be so much fun having you here for…” Rachel looks at Phoebe.

     “Three weeks,” you interject, answering for Phoebe and smiling at Rachel’s kindness, “My flight back to (Y/h/t) is in three weeks.” 

     You can’t believe Phoebe’s life here. Lively city, amazing friends, and also apparently really good coffee, if Central Perk was any indication. You wish you could stay here for months, but unfortunately you have only a few weeks before you need to go back home to your city and everything that comes with your daily life. 

     “So that’s everybody!” Phoebe cheers, interrupting your thoughts, “Except for Joey but he said he’s coming over after his audition. And Monica…” Phoebe looks around the room questioningly.

     “Went to pick up some detergent or something,” Rachel informs her with an exasperated look, “Because you know, it’s not like the apartment isn’t already clean enough.”

     Chandler feigns a shiver, “Oh right, her Spring Cleaning Frenzy. Not to be confused with her Christmas Cleaning Madness or her New-Years Cleaning Hysteria. Although all are equally terrifying.”

    You chuckle. Your sister had told you about Chandler and his jokes. “We’ll I can’t wait to meet her.”

     As if on cue, a woman with dark hair holding grocery bags in both hands walks through the door. 

     Having set the bags down on the kitchen table, the woman begins rifling through her purse.

     Looking down into her purse she says, “Alright, before anybody says anything, I need these supplies and if anyone thinks differently they can start by cleaning the bathroom floors and—”

     “Oh Monica!” Phoebe exclaims, “You’re back! We have company!” She smiles excitedly. 

     You smile at the woman who must be Monica. You can’t help but notice her vibrant blue eyes and how her dark hair frames her face. Your sister didn’t tell you how beautiful she was. You suddenly catch yourself staring and quickly speak. 

     “Hi, I’m Phoebe’s sister, (Y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

     Monica finally looks up. She sets her purse down hurriedly and walks toward the living room over to you.  

     “Oh, hi,” she says quickly, pushing her hair out of her face. You follow the movement with your eyes. “I’m Monica. But Phoebe already told you that. Make yourself at home. Please, sit.”

     Monica indicates one of the chairs in the apartment’s living room. You sit down.

     Monica takes the seat across from you next to Rachel and puts her hands in her lap eagerly. “So, your Phoebe’s sister, huh? Where are you from? What do you do? I mean, tell me about yourself.”

     “Woah, Mon, slow down!” Rachel says putting an arm on her shoulder, “You don’t want to scare the poor girl off the minute she gets here.”

     Monica looks at you sheepishly and Rachel laughs. 

     “No, it’s ok,” you say, amused and flattered by Monica’s enthusiasm. “I’m from (Y/h/t) and I’m currently going to school there, but I graduate next year. Not nearly as exciting as New York, though. I’m thrilled to be here.” 

     Monica smiles at you, “Well, my apartment is always open! You know, if you ever needed to stay here.” She clasps her hands together. 

     Chandler walks around the couch and sits on the back next to Monica. “Interesting, because when I asked to stay here last week when my apartment was being repainted because Joey thought ‘Fireball 2: now with more fire’,” he gestures in the air as if announcing a movie title, “was a good idea, I believe your exact words to me were to ‘take a hike’.”

     Monica shoves Chandler off the couch and glares back at him, “Yeah? Well then maybe you should take that hike right now.”

     Ross stifles a chuckle from the kitchen. Monica glares at him too and he quickly turns away. 

     Phoebe sighs, “Ok, guys? Totally ruining my whole meeting thing.”

     A chorus of “Sorry Pheebs” meets your ears but you just giggle. 

     “Anyways,” Monica says, “we’re all really glad you’re here.” She smiles at you and as she does her eyes light up causing you to smile back. She has a fire in her eyes and it makes her see like someone who is passionate about everything she does. Before she can catch you admiring her yet again, you get up and seize Phoebe’s wrist, guiding her away from her her friend and towards the other side of the room.

     “Pheebs, you didn’t tell me your friend was gorgeous,” you whispers emphatically.

      “Really? You think so? I mean compared to me…” she trails off and you roll your eyes at her. Phoebe suddenly gets an excited look on her face. “Oh hey, you should totally—”

     She gets cut of as someone else walks through the door. A man with dark hair wearing a New York Knicks jersey under a large coat steps into the apartment. 

     “Joey!” Phoebe shouts, dragging you to the door. “Meet (Y/n), my sister!”

     Joey looks you up and down admiringly as he takes his jacket off. “So you’re (Y/n).” He gives you a charming smile. 

     “Yeah, that’s me,” you say. “It’s so great to finally put all of your faces to names.” 

     “Oh, right, that’s everybody, yay!” Phoebe goes over to Joey. “So how was your audition?” 

     “Terrible, I blew it, there’s no way I got the part,” Joey mumbles distractedly and waves her off and saunters over to you, “So, it’d be rude of me if I didn’t ask you, how you doin’?”

     You open your mouth to respond when Monica rushes over to where the three of you are standing. 

     “Come on Joey,” Monica says, “I’m sure she doesn’t want to be flirted with by you the minute she walks in the door. Right?” Monica wrings her hands together and looks to Rachel for help. 

     Before you have time to contemplate what she just said, Rachel jumps in, turning to you.

     “Oh, honey don’t worry, Joey flirted with all of us when he first met us.”

     Chandler looks at Joey, offended. “You never flirted with me!”

     You laugh at the expression on his friend’s face. 

     “Anyways,” Joey starts, “(Y/n), it’s nice to meet you but Chandler we gotta go.”

     “Right, sorry guys, Joey and I have to bounce.” Chandler takes a last swig of the coffee in his hand and heads towards the door.

     “Knicks game,” Joey adds in explanation as he follows his friend, making to leave the apartment. “It was nice meeting you.”

     He winks at you. You give them a small wave and then they’re out the door. 

     Phoebe turns around, “So seeing as it’s finally just us girls—”

     Ross clears his throat. 

     “—oh right and Ross.” She gestures toward him and Monica snorts. She quickly covers her mouth, looking embarrassed. 

     “No no, I have to go anyway,” Ross says, with an air of confidence, “I have a date tonight.”

      “You?” Monica raises an eyebrow.

     “Yes,” Ross insists, “just because your love life is non-existent doesn’t mean mine is.”

     “Hey! I go on dates.”

     “With other people?”

     Monica wraps her arms around her torso. “I just haven’t found the right person yet.”

     You almost sense her glance over at you but you keep your eyes trained on her brother as he too walks towards the door. 

     “Bye,” you call out as he leaves. You like him and enjoyed the way he bantered with his sister. It reminds you of yourself and Phoebe. You two have always been close—closer than you are with Ursula—but you definitely get on each others nerves sometimes. 

     But mostly you liked hearing that Monica’s romantic life was less than perfect. It makes you feel better about your own love life—or lack of it—that someone as beautiful and kind as Monica is having trouble too. 

     You find yourself watching her as she and Rachel talk in tones you can’t hear over in the kitchen while Rachel helps her friend unload her remaining cleaning supplies from the bags on the table. Monica tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and you watch as she carries an armful of her purchases across the room.

     “I can tell you like her,” you hear Phoebe whisper from behind you. 

     “What?” You say, caught off guard.

     “I see the way you look at her. Like she’s, I don’t know, a goddess or something.”

     “I do not!” But you find yourself blushing in spite of yourself. 

     “It’s ok, I can tell she likes you too,” your sister offers encouragingly.

     “How could you possibly tell that?” You run your fingers through your hair nervously.

     “I know these things, (Y/n),” she says with a hint of mischief in her eyes, “I’m kind of a love genius.” She waggles her eyebrows. 

     “Oh yeah? And that’s why you haven’t been in a relationship in four months?” You tease. 

     “Ok, my powers don’t work on myself, you clearly don’t know how the cupid thing works.” 

      You laugh and she puts a hand on your arm, her ringed fingers laying gently on your sleeve. 

     “But seriously. I saw her looking at you too. And come on, she let you sit on the furniture with your shoes on! She’s never let me do that. Plus, Monica’d be lucky to have you. Your sweet and funny and pretty and, oh, you’ve had, like, no cavities! I mean anyone would be crazy if they didn’t want to go out with you.”

     “Thanks Pheebs,” you say, laughing and giving her a quick hug, “I love you”

     “I love you too, now go over there and tell her how you feel.”

      You glance at Monica, now sitting on the couch, a magazine in her hand as she shows something to Rachel. You look back at your sister with an eyebrow raised.

      “Yeah, no. I just met her and I’m not exactly the type of person to just go up and ask people out.”

     Phoebe gives you a look and then pushes you over to the living room and sits you down in the same chair you had previously occupied. “Hey guys, I forgot I have an, um, appointment with my psychic today that I just, like, totally forgot about so I’d better be off.” 

     She looks at Rachel pointedly, “Rach, would you care to accompany me?”

     “Uh, me? Why Pheebs?” She responds.

     “Oh, I don’t know. I just sensed this aura around you,” she gestures wildly with her arms, “and I thought you might need a psychic so….”

     Rachel, seeming to suddenly understand something, gets up quickly. “You know what you’re right! I felt a little weird this morning but I thought it was just bloating.” She shrugs and goes over to get her jacket.

     Monica turns around and fixes a look on Phoebe, “What so I don’t have an ‘aura’?” She puts air quotes around the last word.

     “No, sorry,” Phoebe says apologetically but then turns to you and Rachel, coughing, and mumbles a little too loudly, “Noteverything’sacompetition”

     Monica crosses her arms and turns around.  

     “So,” Phoebe starts and the other woman turns around to look at her again. “This is perfect because now you and (Y/n) can get to know each other until we get back. Ok? Bye Mon, bye sis!” She winks at you. You slap your forehead internally at Phoebe’s obviousness. You hope Monica didn’t notice. Phoebe shuts the door quickly and then they are gone, leaving you and Monica alone in her apartment. 

     You both turn to look at each other at Phoebe’s hasty departure. For a moment, the only sound is the far away noise of traffic until finally you decide to break the silence.

     “So, you know what I do, but what about you?” In reality, you knew exactly what she did because your sister talked about her friends to you all the time and you loved hearing about every detail. But you had to make some small talk. 

     “I’m the head chef at Allesandro’s restaurant,” she says, obviously proud of the fact. “I kind of like to cook.”

     “Phoebe says your food is amazing,” you compliment. 

     “Maybe I could cook for you sometime while you’re here? If you want.” She adds hurriedly. 

    “I’d like that,” you smile. 

     “So, what’s it like in (Y/h/t)? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

     “It’s nice,” you say “but I miss Phoebe a lot…it’s nice seeing how great her friends are here though. I mean, I’ve loved meeting all of you and seeing how caring and fun you are. She’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

     “She’s lucky to have a sister like you.” 

      You pick up a drink from the coffee table and hold it up in the air. “To Phoebe and how lucky she is to have us,” you say playfully.

     Monica picks up another cup and touches it to yours in a cheers, laughing.

     “You know, she’s told me all sorts of crazy stories about you…all of you,” you say. 

     Monica looks mildly frightened, “What has she told you?”

     “Oh, well nothing that embarrassing,” you lie. She gives you a look.

     “Ok, we’ll she did tell me that you dated your ex’s son…” 

     “What? I can’t believe she told you that! I’m going to kill her!” Monica looks outraged.

     “Told me what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You look at her knowingly and she smiles. “Yeah, Phoebe’s a lot of things but she’s not exactly…discreet.”

     Monica laughs, “I know!”

     You laugh with her. “So, are you still seeing him? The son, I mean.” 

     “No, that was a while ago,” she points at herself now, “Hasn’t been on a date in months remember?” 

     She pauses and then asks you casually, almost too casually, “Well, I-I guess it’s my turn to ask a question so…are you seeing anyone right now?” 

     You take a deep breath. “No, I’m not. Like you said, I just haven’t found the right person.” You mean to stop talking there but you find yourself continuing. “Sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for something that doesn’t exist though, you know? Like what if I’m missing so many wonderful opportunities because I’m holding out for something unrealistic. I don’t know, I guess I’m just an idealist. I just want someone who cares about me and who understands me, someone who I can love and be loved by, not just something superficial, you know?”

     Monica looks at you intensely. You try not to squirm under her gaze as you fidget with the ties on your shirt and contemplate everything you just said. Usually you don’t open up to people that much or so quickly, but there’s something about Monica you just trust. You just felt like she’d understand. 

     Monica leans forward. “Wow, I-I totally know what you mean. So, is it ok if I ask you another question?” 

     At your nod she continues slowly.

     “If you did, um, have an instinct about someone…you know, that you thought was attractive and kind and charming and someone that you felt like you’d regret not having a chance with, would you maybe ask them to get coffee with you sometime?”

     She’s leaned forward even more and you two are close now. You breathe in as you look into her blue eyes and the way she’s looking at you, almost shyly.

     “I think I would,” you manage. 

     “Would you like to get coffee sometime?” Monica asks you. 

     “I would.” And you smile bigger than you have in weeks. Monica places a hand on yours. 

     At that moment, your sister walks in the apartment. 

     “Ok, you’d think after forgetting my ‘spiritual coat’ this many times—” she stops abruptly when she sees you and Monica, sitting there so close to each other, your hands interlocked. 

    “So you? And you?” Phoebe trails off and you and Monica both look at each other and then nod. “Oh yay, see I knew it!” She cheers. 

     You look at your sister, looking so happy for you and at Monica, looking at you the same way you feel about her and you think how lucky you are to have these people in your life and how glad you are you came to New York with your sister 

     “Well, that coffee isn’t going to drink itself,” you say to Monica. 

     “Let’s go,” she says. You both head towards the door. 

     Phoebe raises her eyebrows at you, “You two kids have fun!”

     You look back at Phoebe and mouth, “Thanks, Pheebs”

     “What are sisters for, (Y/n).” She smiles.

     You smile back as you follow Monica outside, shutting the door to the apartment and possibly opening the door to a wonderful new relationship. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ i hope you enjoyed this!! i love writing for the friends characters so much and i hope i did them justice. have a wonderful day/night <3

[dalekofchaos]

“You were sloppy as Jim Milton. Now look where it got you. You led Ross to you after you killed Micah.” “You would of done the same damn thing, Arthur.” … “You know you ain’t making it outta this, John?” “I know. I guess I was a fool for trusting them to hold their end of the bargain… I failed in the end.” “You still made it out, John. Dutch. Bill. Javier. None of them can hurt anyone no more. And Jack has a real shot at a future, now.” … “Arthur… do you think I did good?” “Of course, John. All we can do now is hope Abigail keeps Jack from going down the same path, now.” “You’re right…” “It’s time, John. They’ve gotten far enough.” John takes a deep breath, and blinks. With that, Arthur is gone. He takes one last peek between the barn door, seeing the dozen+ armed soldiers, rifles pointed at the door. He steadies himself, at peace in a way. Thinking to himself all the things he hopes Jack will accomplish in life. How he never truly made it up to them. How uncle died for this. How if he really redeemed himself. And with that, he opens the doors, ready to face the music.

[abarbaricyalp]

Big kinda-sorta fill for a bunch of prompts all at once because I thought they fit well together. Don't think too hard about the logic of this one. Truly. Don't. Written for the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Event! Cw: violence, blood, injury, medical procedures (on page and discussed), radiation poisoning (sickness, pain, and gore affiliated), body horror (in a dream) Read on AO3!

Upon Faith

It's 10:34 AM on a Thursday morning when the Winter Soldier kills the GRC delegation leader in the middle of an international summit.  He takes out every security agent who gets near him, maims most of the bystanders. He looks right into Sam's eyes as he raises a modified sig-sauer micro-rifle and shoots Sam directly in the middle of the star covering his chest.

Deliriously, as he’s falling backwards with extraordinary pain blooming along every nerve in his body, Sam thinks about how Bucky hated the shield looking like a target, and that he had designed this suit for him and put a target right over Sam's heart anyway. 

. . .

Sam woke up a day later, in a hospital room with a heavy cast around his ribs to hold him immobile at least temporarily. There was no shifting around in this behemoth. He couldn't even reach for the water on the table next to him. Normally, it was Bucky's job to bitch about whether he was getting enough fluids, to hand him water glasses and sneak in the digestive sodas Sam liked.

“It’s a bulletproof vest,” Bucky had said once, using an arm across Sam’s hips to keep him in bed. “That means the bullet doesn’t go in. It doesn’t mean the impact doesn’t hit you.”

Sam tried to compare that gunshot to this one. He hadn’t been wearing his Captain America suit that time, just regular kevlar. But the shot had come from a handgun from much further away. The micro-rifle was designed for performance and Bucky had been right in front of him. The vibranium was strong, but that blast had cut right through Sam. What kind of bullet was it? One large one? Or a volley of fire? He couldn’t even remember the sound of it firing.

"It wasn't him," Sam said as soon as someone walked in the door–brought forth by the increased rate in his heart monitor. “I know him better than you do. That wasn’t him.”

He was surprised to see that it was Everett Ross who had walked in the door. If for no other reason than he thought Ross was in Wakanda again. Ross looked up from a file folder thicker than a fist. “Now why am I not surprised to hear you say that, Captain?” he asked. “Nevertheless, you’re not to contact him. You understand of course.”

Sam’s jaw tightened and he tried to sit up again. It didn’t work again. “It wasn’t him. He’s in danger. He’s undercover right now.”

Ross scoffed slightly. “I don’t think he’s the best candidate for undercover work. Pretty identifiable.”

Sam sighed in frustration, tossing his head to the side because he couldn’t do anything with his arms. “Ask your girlfriend. She’d know more than me.”

Unfiltered disgust flashed across Ross’s face. He practically flushed green. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said sharply. “I heard you two had a falling out,” he added, prodding at old bruises that Sam didn’t want to expose. “You two haven’t spoken in months.”

“He didn’t do it,” Sam repeated.

“The only stable thing in his life gets cut out like that…” Ross suggested with a shrug. “Could make anyone lose it. Especially after prolonged time with Valentina.”

“Bucky’s not a bomb,” Sam almost snarled. “He’s not going to explode from a pin-prick. He’s in trouble. Whatever’s going on, he has a target on his back now.”

“You could say that,” Ross agreed. “Where is he?”

Sam almost managed to throw his hands up in the air. The AC cut on above them and Sam listened to it hum and churn while he stared at Ross. “I don’t know. Like you said, we haven’t talked since he was assigned to the Thunderbolts.”

“Why not?” Ross prodded, poking harder at the bruise encasing Sam’s heart.

Sam found himself shaking his head. He wasn’t sure where the gesture actually came from. The actual answer was that Sam knew Bucky was hiding something from him. Something about this assignment, about the team. He’d adopted this asinine habit of taking on all the dirt and blood that could possibly be slung at Sam, doing all the shady work that Sam came up against recently. Sam had confronted him about it, this assignment had come in, Bucky left without so much as an argument. Just a kiss to the scar under Sam’s eye. He’d been unreachable since.

But Sam couldn’t say any of that to Ross. It would only stoke the flames snaring closer to Bucky, wherever he was. Sam had learned the hard way to watch what he said to their bosses. Every watercooler conversation was some subterfuge to notch another complaint about Bucky’s pardon. Now? If Sam didn’t find Bucky before anyone else, Bucky was never going to see the light of day again.

“We decided long distance wouldn’t work,” he said drily.

Ross snorted and flipped through several pages in the tome in his hand. “Captain, the sooner you help us, the less damage he can do. Do you know he’s been MIA for almost three weeks now?”

Sam’s blood ran cold. He was glad Ross wouldn’t be able to tell how his body tensed through all of the casting on him. Three weeks? Had they even been looking for him? Sam didn’t know anything about the Thunderbolts, but he was sure the leash he was on must’ve had some slack. How long until the team’s handlers decided something was wrong? How much effort had even been put into looking for him before this?

“You think Hydra got their hands on him and reverted him,” Sam surmised. “It didn’t happen. Shuri and her team took all of that out. It took them a decade to break him last time. This wasn’t him. Something else is going on. You’re wasting time focusing on him. You’re wasting his time.”

“Then what do you think happened?” Ross asked, finally looking up at Sam for longer than a glance. He closed the file in his hand and everything.

“The same thing that happened last time,” Sam said. “A mesh-mask. A robot. A shapeshifter. A clone. I don’t know. I only saw it for a few seconds. But it wasn’t Bucky. I know him better than anyone else.”

“You were actively being shot at as well,” Ross pointed out. “I’d hardly consider that a healthy state of mind to be making judgement calls. It’s no secret that you and Barnes are a weak spot for each other. Your opinion, your defense of him, doesn’t weigh very much here.”

Sam bared his teeth and strained too hard all at once. Pain laced up his body, straight down to the bone of him. It cut through the fuzz of quality pain medications and cleared his head only to stuff it full of over-stimulation. Every bone in his chest felt like it was covered in buckshot and he couldn’t get a deep breath in, which made him panic. He was panicking about Bucky too. All his concern came flooding in at once. He wanted out of this bed. He wanted his own phone. He needed to call Bucky, even if he wouldn’t pick up. Sam could leave a message warning him.

Ross tutted and came over to increase Sam’s morphine drip. Too fast, Sam thought, fighting through the red haze and black spots creeping into his vision, that was too much all at once.

“We’ll find him, Captain,” Ross said, stepping back. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t you even–” Sam started, but his tongue got heavy in his mouth and the spots in his vision grew and grew and grew. Don’t hurt him, he tried again as he fell into endless black.

Read the rest on AO3!

[mgnemesi]

@zepysgirl asked for Nat! And, well, this might not be what people would expect when I draw Natasha but I *really* wanted to go with the Classic look and hairdo. I looked at how Phil Noto, Adam Hughes, Alex Ross and obviously Coipel draw her (I say obviously because I shamelessly gave her the same rifle he gave her on a cover) and cooked this up.

Hope she's to your liking!

Still and always accepting names for the next 2 boxes. Please suggest female characters only for this round, to balance the previous Meme :D

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 82

The Siberian snow crunched beneath our feet as we approached the facility where the other Winter Soldiers were held. The snow fell heavily, and the wind whipped through our hair, the cold biting at my skin. The doors were wide open—he had already been here.

"He can't have been here more than a few hours," Steve said, gripping his shield tightly at his side.

"Long enough to wake them up," Bucky replied, his assault rifle at the ready. I pulled out my handgun, and together we cautiously stepped inside.

We took the elevator that descended deep into the facility, the sound of its groaning echoing ominously through the walls. I stood between Bucky and Steve, staring straight ahead, the confined space making me feel hot despite the cold. I tried not to think about the fact that both of their hands were brushing against mine. They both gave me small smiles, but it felt awkward, their expressions not reaching their eyes.

When the door finally slid open, I exhaled in relief, though it was short-lived given what awaited us. We all carried the super-soldier serum, but so did the others—and who knew how many of them we'd be facing.

We cautiously stepped out, scanning the perimeter for any danger, our footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete walls. As I peeked around a corner, the door behind us suddenly slammed shut with a loud clang, making me jump. Instinctively, we all spun around, weapons raised, with Steve ducking behind his shield.

"You ready?" Steve asked quietly, and Bucky and I answered in unison, "Yes."

The double doors in front of us slid open slowly, revealing Tony's shiny red suit.

"You seem a little defensive," Tony remarked as he approached, his tone light but his gaze sharp. Steve lowered his shield slightly, though Bucky and I kept our weapons trained on Tony.

"It's been a long day," Steve replied, giving a small nod, his shield still partially raised.

Tony glanced at Bucky and me, his eyebrows lifting. "So now you've got two guard dogs? Calm down, you two, or no treats for you," he added with a playful finger lift.

"Why are you here?" Steve asked, still suspicious, his tone firm.

"Could be your story's not so crazy. Maybe. Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself.", Tony replied calmly.

"Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork," Steve said as he finally lowered his shield. "It's good to see you, Tony," he added with a solemn smile.

I wasn’t so easily convinced. Tony had been sure of himself at the airport, and now we were supposed to act like everything was fine. Bucky clearly felt the same—his glare never left Tony as he kept his gun trained on him.

"You too, Cap," Tony replied before glancing at Bucky and me. "Calm down, you two. I won’t bite if you don’t bite first," he said with his usual snark.

"Enough with the dog jokes, Stark," I shot back, still refusing to lower my weapon.

Steve gestured for us to stand down with a motion of his hand. Reluctantly, I lowered my gun, though the unease in my gut hadn’t faded.

We moved cautiously through the facility, all four of us on edge, anticipating one of the Winter Soldiers to lunge at us from every shadowed corner. The place was dark and eerie, with old desks and scattered files abandoned by their long-gone owners.

"I’ve got heat signatures," Tony warned, his hand raised, ready to strike.

"How many?" Steve asked, his shoulders tensing.

"Uh... one," Tony replied, his voice tinged with concern and confusion. Bucky had told us there were many more Winter Soldiers. Why only one?

We stepped into a large, dimly lit hall surrounded by chambers. In the center sat a chair—eerily familiar. It looked like the one Pierce had strapped Bucky into when they wiped his memories. A cold shiver ran through me at the memory of his screams.

I glanced at Bucky, wondering if he was reliving the same nightmare. He must be haunted, but his expression remained composed, his eyes hard as he took in the scene.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on, illuminating each chamber, and a voice echoed from the speakers.

"If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep," the voice said, cold and detached.

I looked closer. The Winter Soldiers were still inside the chambers—but dead. We had expected them to be unleashed against us, but now it was clear something more sinister was at play.

"Did you really think I wanted more of you?" the voice taunted, clearly directed at Bucky.

"What the hell?" Bucky murmured, growing more tense with each second.

"I'm grateful to them, though," the voice continued. "They brought you here."

Suddenly, a light flickered on, revealing Zemo hiding behind a reinforced glass window. Without hesitation, Steve hurled his shield at the glass, but it bounced back harmlessly, the window unscathed.

"Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets," Zemo said, his sneer audible in his voice.

"I'm betting I could beat that," Tony replied confidently, his voice carrying a calm assurance that I couldn’t help but admire.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark," Zemo said, unfazed. "Given time. But then you'd never know why you came."

His tone was condescending as if he were toying with us, completely secure in his fortress of glass. It made my blood boil.

Steve stepped closer to the chamber, his gaze locked on him. "You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?"

Zemo smirked, his eyes cold as they met Steve’s. "I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized... there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw."

Steve’s jaw clenched. "You're Sokovian. Is that what this is about?"

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No," Zemo said, his voice laced with bitterness. "I'm here because I made a promise."

"You lost someone?" Steve asked, a hint of empathy in his voice as he nodded slightly, almost as if he felt pity for him.

At that, Zemo’s expression shifted—his eyes darkened, filled with something raw and deeply personal. "I lost everyone. And so will you," he said, his gaze cutting between Steve, Bucky, and me.

Suddenly, a screen beside Steve flickered to life. Black-and-white footage appeared on the monitor, the date reading 1991. Confusion washed over me as I stepped closer, trying to make sense of what we were seeing.

"An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one that crumbles from within? That's dead... forever," Zemo continued, his voice dripping with malice. But my focus was entirely on the footage playing on the screen.

I sensed Tony step closer, his voice low but demanding. "I know that road. What is this?"

What I saw made my blood run cold—grainy black-and-white footage showing Tony’s parents... their terrified screams... and then The Winter Soldier mercilessly killing them. My chest tightened, and I instinctively took a step back, my hand hovering over my gun as my mind raced.

I glanced between Steve and Bucky. The tension was palpable; they knew what was coming. And so did I.

I glanced over at Tony, watching as his eyes widened, his body trembling with the shock of witnessing the horrific truth—the murder of his parents. His gaze flicked to Bucky, filled with disbelief and raw pain, before turning back to the screen. This wasn’t going to end well.

As the footage came to an end, Tony stepped toward Bucky, fury building behind his eyes. Steve quickly grabbed his arm to hold him back, but I moved in front of Bucky, pulling my gun, keeping it at my side, ready for what was coming.

Tony turned sharply toward Steve, his voice barely a whisper. "Did you know?"

Steve’s grip tightened on Tony’s arm, his face unreadable. "I didn’t know it was him," Steve said, his tone steady but unsure.

"Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!" Tony roared, pulling back. "Did you know?" His voice cracked with anger and betrayal.

Steve hesitated, and at that moment, everything seemed to freeze. "Yes," he finally admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his confession.

My jaw dropped, and the silence that followed was deafening. I understood why Steve hadn’t told Tony—because it would’ve led to chaos, to exactly what was happening now. Disaster was inevitable.

As Tony lunged toward Bucky, blasting him with his repulsor, the rush hit me like a freight train. My chest tightened, my heart pounded in my ears, and the world zeroed in on one thing: protecting Steve and Bucky. The second Tony’s blast struck Bucky’s shoulder, something primal took over. My body moved on its own, the adrenaline pumping through me like fire in my veins.

Without hesitation, I pulled out my pistol, firing off rounds aimed at Tony’s suit. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off his armor, but I didn’t care. I just needed to slow him down and keep him away from them. Tony barely flinched, turning his fury back toward Steve.

I dropped the pistol and whipped out my knife, flipping it into a reverse grip as I darted toward Tony. The rush inside me had fully taken over, and every move I made was driven by the singular, all-consuming need to protect them, even if I had to sacrifice myself. I slashed at Tony’s exposed joints, aiming for the weak points in his suit. The knife found purchase between the metal plates of his armor, sparks flying as I struck.

Tony roared in frustration, swinging his arm to blast Steve, but I was faster. I threw myself in front of the blast, the force sending me skidding across the floor. The pain barely registered; it was irrelevant compared to the need to keep Steve and Bucky safe. My knife slipped from my grip, clattering to the ground, but I didn’t stop.

"Get out of the way!" Tony shouted, raising his arm to fire at Bucky again. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, diving in front of Bucky as I picked up my pistol again. I aimed at Tony's visor, firing multiple shots, hoping to disorient him. It worked, if only for a second. Tony staggered, but he recovered too quickly.

I felt Steve's hand on my arm, pulling me back. “Stop!” he yelled, but I couldn't. Not while Tony was still coming for them. The adrenaline in my system wouldn’t let me stop, not when they were in danger.

Tony swung again, this time aiming for Steve. I rushed forward, slamming into Tony with all the strength I had, the knife back in my hand as I jammed it into a gap near his shoulder joint. He grunted, sparks flying as I twisted the blade, but it still wasn’t enough. Tony threw me off with a powerful swing, sending me crashing into the wall.

Steve’s voice broke through the haze, calling my name, but the adrenaline coursing through me drowned out everything except the need to protect. I stumbled back to my feet, pistol at the ready, and fired again, aiming for Tony’s chest plate. The bullets bounced off, but I didn’t stop firing.

Tony’s repulsor was aimed directly at Steve now, and time seemed to slow. Without thinking, I threw myself between them, pistol still in hand, as Tony’s blast hit me full-force. I crumpled to the ground, pain searing through my body, but I forced myself to stand again, the rush still pushing me forward.

I had to save them, no matter the cost.

Next Chapter

[dreamcast641]

In what sport(s) would your OCS partecipate during the olympics?

Thanks @violetflavia for the tag woo

Anyway yeah, i choose multiple sports for them because I can see them doing multiple stuff.

Anyway

Claire Ekaterina Makarova

-Boxing

-Shooting (pistols and steam rifles)

-Swimming

-Taekwondo

Dmitry Vasilij Makarov

-Equestrian dressage

-Fencing

Evelyn "Mandy" Ross

-Table tennis

-Figure skating

Lilja Järvinen

-Archery

-Snowboarding and alpine skiing (The photos limit was 10 so)

[i-identify-guns-in-posts]

hello! i have a silly thing to ask about, if you don’t mind. in the guidebook for the ttrpg Candela Obscura there’s a rifle in the art of the WWI-inspired soldier character class, and i’m very curious if you can tell if there’s a specific real-world gun it’s modeled after, or if the artist combined some guns together or just made up a generic rifle design. (i’d looked at different WWI era rifles to see if i could figure it out myself, but i only have the worldwartism and not the guntism so i’m not sure how to identify distinguishing factors between the different models, so i thought i’d ask the expert, lol.) very sorry for the image quality, this is the best i could get—and no worries if it can’t be identified. thank you!

Very hard to give a specific answer. At first glance I thought Mosin Nagant, because of the internal mag that sticks out, But i don't know. I can tell you it's not A french Lebel Rifle, it doesn't look like a US Springfield 1903, it doesn't look like a UK SMLE, doesn't look like a canadian ross rifle... So i don't really know. It seems vague enough to be almost anything.

[soaps-hoe-141]

Drowning In The Depths

Not me writing this whole chapter while watching Bob Ross. Oh boy I hope y'all are ready.

Also look at this beautiful piece of art @czigonas was kind enough to make for Corporal Wade! He's so tired! I love it so much!

Part 8

Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader

WC: 20k

Synopsis: Angry price, unhinged Speck/Reader, hurt and comfort, there is a lot of Speck lore being dropped in this chapter honestly

Warnings: Lots of past traumas and panic inbound

The rumbling purr of the van cut off abruptly as your eyes shot open to take in the sight of the men around you already standing up and collecting their gear. Hell even the woman and little boy that y'all had taken from the warehouse were standing up and following close behind the Lieutenant. Everyone moved towards the back doors, all except for you and John, who was sitting perfectly still after you'd fallen over onto his shoulder in the cramped space of the cubby.

Oh shit, you shifted over quickly with wide eyes, rubbing tiredly at your dry eyes as you sat up. When you glanced to your right John was already moving, grabbing his rifle and the vest he'd shed at some point when you'd fallen asleep, not even bothering to look at you. Everyone else had shed their gear as well while you were out cold. You pushed yourself up and unclipped the buckles on your vest as the other men stopped at the back doors waiting for them to unlock. Well all of them except for Watcher who had hopped out of the front.

When the door locks clicked and before anyone could scramble away John spoke loudly, "Debrief at 0800 tomorrow morning, don't be late. And don't make me come hunt you down. You have the rest of the evening to yourselves, spend it wisely, yeah?" His eyes glanced around the men until he got nods from everyone. Though those blue hues never even shifted to you, running right over you like you weren't even there. It made your chest hurt, but it was understandable. Why would he want to look at you? The man couldn't even spend an evening with you without kicking you to the curb. Was this coldness all that surprising?

No, no it wasn't. You definitely deserved it after putting him through yet another moment where he thought he was going to be responsible for your death. Hell you knew all too much about that dreaded responsibility yourself. As the others filed out of the van though John's hand pressed against your chest to stop you from hopping down after them.

His voice growled out then, "Not you," you shot him a quick glance. He still wasn't looking at you, instead he was staring ahead at the group of men and the two newest additions to the growing list of prisoners they were acquiring. Ghost stopped to glance back before John said quickly, "Laswell's waiting for them. Take them to her," the big man nodded and you watched as he led them off towards the main building of the base.

Tension held you in place. Afraid to move for fear you would upset the stillness that seemed to have taken hold of him. When his hand shoved you backwards and he pulled the back doors closed you instinctively caught hold of the handle on Cerberus' vest. The dog sent a dangerous growl up to John but you were quick to quiet him with a, "Pfui." You unclipped his lead, glancing up at the Brit for a moment before you suggested, "Might want to have this altercation away from the dog, John." He barely even glanced down at the Dutchie before his hand was in the strap of your vest and he pushed you back into the small cubby, the false wall latching closed behind him. A whine slid past the panel as Cerberus tried to claw his way inside before you said, "Nein, Cerberus. Platz," a quick pause before continuing, "Bleib."

John was staring down at you now, hand still wrapped around the strap of your vest and you could feel his grip tightening around it. You could see his mind working behind those bright blue eyes as he tried to control himself. His dark beard twitched as his jaw tensed, fighting some kind of internal battle. "What were you thinking? Really." Your brows furrowed at his question. You'd already told him once, besides what did that even mean? "Not some heat of the moment shite we yell at each other because the rest of the team are watching. What was really going through your head, Speck?" Nothing. Everything. How did you even explain that to him?

When you remained silent he only seemed to grow more impatient. Obviously he wanted an answer, and he wanted it now. What were you supposed to say though? What answer did this man in front of you even want? "What was going through your head when you tried to defuse a bomb with local law enforcement on a quick response time to that site? They could have killed you, did that not occur to you? They would have killed you if it weren't for the trackers Watcher has on all of us." Well at least it made sense now how they'd found you in the middle of the city.

Slowly your shoulders lifted in a simple shrug and the man before you laughed cynically. His fist felt almost like it was punching your shoulder as he pushed off of it and stepped back away from you in the small space. It was obvious that was certainly not the answer he was wanting from you. You could hear his internal thoughts now, ‘Seriously Speck? That’s the best you’ve got?’ In truth that was probably where you should have stopped, just let him come up with his own answer, let him think whatever he wanted.

What you said next was definitely not anything better, "Nothing really, John. I saw the bomb. I knew there were a lot of people. I knew that yall were still inside the building and that there were children and mothers inside as well. Hell there were people just out walking on the street below." His eyes were searching yours for sincerity, and when he found it he only seemed to grow more upset. That wasn’t the reaction you had expected to find in his eyes. "I didn't want their blood on my hands too, John. Yalls blood either. So I did what I could. I couldn’t take that guilt again." He shook his head at you, his hand coming up to run over his mouth as he thought to himself.

The man in front of you glanced down at the floor before his eyes shut, head beginning to slowly shake as he smiled with cynicism clear in his expression. "So you see a bomb and not a bloody thing goes through your head?" Your shoulders shrugged again with an added shake of your head before you glanced towards the wall. You couldn't keep looking at him, not while he was leveling that disappointment or whatever the hell it was at you.

"Fucking hell, Speck," he was getting angry again as his hands reached up to latch onto the straps of his own vest probably so he didn’t end up throttling you. John obviously wanted you to say something else but what was there to say? You had made the decision to stay behind. To put your own life in danger to help those who would have probably died otherwise and never even known they were in danger. You’d made the right decision and you knew it, whether John wanted to admit that or not didn’t matter.

He reached up and jerked the bandana off from around his neck, wiping away the sweat that was currently beading up on his forehead. John stared at you in the growing stuffiness of the cargo van. There was exasperation growing in his eyes now, he so desperately wanted you to communicate. To tell him why you had done what you'd done. Hadn't you though? You didn't want people to die. In order to keep people from dying the bomb had to be disarmed. So you, in all your brilliance might you add, had done just that. End of story.

Apparently that wasn't how John felt though. You couldn't tell if it was frustration, annoyance, or just plain rage that was blossoming on his face, probably all of the above. However you did know that annoyance was beginning to bubble up inside of you. Why did he care so much anyway? It wasn't like you'd put him in danger, or his team. 

Hell, you'd specifically made sure they'd all gotten out of there, was that not good enough for him? The words spilled out of your mouth before you could even stop them, "Why do you care so much, huh? I didn't put your team in danger, yall got out of the building, I don't see the problem, John." Blue eyes widened at you incredulously before another laugh fell out of him much like the one you'd gotten when he'd interrogated you.

His fists clenched, using the balled up bandana almost like a stress ball to keep himself steady despite the obvious desire he had to blow the hell up at you. The next words he spoke came out in a low growl, "You are a part of my team right now whether you think you do or not. When we're in the field whatever we're doing off of it doesn't matter." Your eyes were glued to the wall again in less than a moment, unable to find his burning blues. Well more like you didn't want to find his eyes. Those words were bringing back too much that you hadn’t dealt with in too long.

Memories rattled around in your mind. This was by far not the first time you'd been yelled at by someone, reprimanded by a superior and verbally reamed, but it had been over eight years since then. Eight years since you’d become Bravo One on your team and then two years since you’d left said teams. God you were getting old now. So no this was not the first time someone had made it their mission to ruin your day.

However, it was one of the first times you'd ever felt like it was personal. Like if it had been Soap that had stayed behind he would have given him a slap on the wrist about disobeying orders and then all would have been fine. Your face was hot with both anger and embarrassment, it was like you were being singled out and you didn’t appreciate being singled out. And unlike when your ex-wife had cursed, screamed, and hit this time it truly started to hit home and hard.

John's hand wrapped around the strap of your vest again in the blink of an eye, jostling you out of your thoughts and dragging your attention back to him. You blinked a couple times as you settled your gaze on his chest. He was closer than he had been a few moments ago. When did he get so close? "Speck?" Your gaze shot up to find him and you noticed the anger that was mostly dissipated now. When had he started to let it go? "Please just talk to me." No.

Your eyes dropped again as you looked away and you heard him sigh from above you. His fingers tightened around the strap of your vest as you muttered, "I don't have anything to say, Captain." You could feel the waves of frustration coming off of him again, and you didn't need to see his eyes to know he was starting to get worked up once more.

Before he was back to the point of being ready to smack you upside the head again he let you go, stepping away and moving towards the latch of the false wall and flipped it up. "Fine," his head shook as he unlatched it and pushed it open. "Don't talk then. Just be at the debriefing at 0800 tomorrow morning. And don't be late." His hand shot out grabbing the rifle from your hand, his glare fixed on you, dark and swirling in those blue pools.

For the first time since you got yourself stuck in here with him you fixed him with that rebellious look. That was before he jerked the pistol out of your thigh holster as well and you looked down at the weapons in his hands, “Go back to your bunk. I don’t want to see you wandering around base tonight,” he growled and then he was gone before you could say anything else. Heading for the cages and the armory so he could drop his things off. Even as he walked away you felt the full force of your fuck up due to your fuck it attitude.

It was that gut-wrenching feeling of knowing when everything had gone so, so very wrong that was currently making you feel like you were going to be sick to your stomach. Cerberus was at your feet again, his nose pressing up into your palm. You were frozen though, you didn't even feel the cold, wetness of it, not until John had disappeared around the corner finally. "Fuck," you muttered to yourself. Eyes shutting for a moment as you forced your racing heart to calm down.

This was your problem. The reason you couldn't allow yourself to get this close. The pain in your stomach and chest was nearly unbearable. You felt too much and you felt too hard, you kept that shit locked up so you didn’t have to deal with it. Not a soul ever deserved to be on the receiving end of that man's disappointment, his frustration. And unlike when your ex-wife had tried to do the same things, to make you feel the same ways, this time you actually cared. It wasn’t just exhaustion flooding you this time around.

This time it hurt more than anything she ever could have tried to manage and John hadn't even had to hit you. He hadn't even had to scream at you for hours and wear you down so completely you were flinching just at the mere thought of someone speaking to you. John had managed to make you feel this simply by being worried about you. Upset that you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about the team you'd lost in nearly the exact same way. About the eight brothers you had lost on that terrible day. The man didn’t even know what he was asking you about and he hit straight at the weakest parts of you.

A sigh left you, Cerberus responded with a quiet whine before you clipped his lead back on and hopped down out of the van. Maybe that last order was just best to follow, huh? It was better than going back to the cages and seeing that disappointment again, watching him react to yet another disobeyed order. ‘I don’t want to see you,’ he’d said. You’d really fucked this one up, and even you could see that.

Just get back to the bunkhouse and sleep all of this shit off, maybe he’d just forget about it by the time the debriefing rolled around tomorrow. “No chance in hell,” you muttered to yourself, that man certainly didn’t seem like the type to forget. He felt more like the type to keep it filed away for a later date when he was ready to deal with it, deal with you. Another sigh left you as you opened the door and stepped inside the room. The bunkhouse was empty. Ghost was still out doing what the Captain had told him to…and Soap probably.

You were quick to let Cerberus off his lead before throwing it up on the table, watching the dog immediately start nudging at the bag of food with his nose. The sigh left you but it wasn’t meant for him, your mind was still rattling around with his expressions, his words. It was driving the very air from your lungs and you had no idea how to even deal with it. No one had ever prepared you for feeling like this. “I know buddy,” you mumbled to him as you opened the bag of food and shoved the bowl inside to scoop some in. When you sat it down at the foot of the bed he dug into his meal.

It’d been a full day since he’d had anything to eat so it wasn’t all that surprising he was so hungry. Hell you should have been hungry too but you were the farthest from it right now. For the first time in a long time your stomach wasn’t growling with need. Your stomach was churning with bile as you sat on the edge of the bed. You swallowed hard and then shoved the sick feeling down in your mind, and took in a few deep breaths trying to settle your thoughts as well.

Pain ached in your limbs and you wished you could say that it was because of the long ass mission you’d just suffered through but it wasn’t the typical muscle aches you were used to. Your skin hurt, pulsed with shots of pain with every wave of emotion that you forced down as it lapped at the shores of your mind. It was something you’d never experienced before. A strange sensation, almost like a physical reaction to the dread in your mind since you refused to let yourself acknowledge it.

Your hands lifted to run through the hair on the side of your head, fingers massaging at your temples for a few moments. Just don’t think about it. Everything will be ok. He’ll forget about it. Maybe. Unlikely. He’s never going to forget about it, idiot. You breathed out another sigh as you stood and pulled your vest off, throwing it into the corner near your duffel. The thigh holster, small pouch that still held the flashbangs and grenades, your ear protection, helmet, and shooting glasses soon followed as you piled the gear in the small space between the wall and the foot of your bed. You’d have to make sure to take it back to Wade tomorrow before he came hunting it down, no need to make him more worried.

Pulling the shirt over your head you tossed it next to the gear. Wade still hadn’t brought the hamper he promised so to the floor it went. You sat on the edge of the bed to unlace your boots hurriedly, kicking them backwards under the gap of the bed. Then you stood again, shucking off the pants and tossed them over with the shirt onto the floor. You didn’t bother with any of the clothes you’d been given. The sooner you went to sleep the sooner this nightmare would end.

But even as you pulled the sheet up to your hip you stared stubbornly at the ceiling. The moon was casting a white glow inside the room with night in full swing. Normally you’d have been able to get to sleep in a matter of seconds, but right now your mind was working overtime in order to keep you stubbornly awake and aware of every little thing moving around you.

Cerberus was laying on his side just beside the bed and you could hear him breathing but he wasn’t yet asleep. Glancing over the side you watched as he lifted his head to look at you before you slid back on the bed and muttered, “Hier, Cerberus.” The Dutchie pushed himself up with a huff of air, like a child who’d just been disturbed in the middle of doing something.

And still he was in the bed with you in the next few seconds. Cerberus circled a few times in front of you before he plopped down heavily on his side and his head found the pillow. Your arms wrapped around the warm torso before you adjusted the sheet over him as well. Sliding forward you buried your face in between his shoulder blades to block out the light from the window. Still it did nothing to help you find your way into the blissful world of dreams.

Thoughts kicked up in your mind like a car stuck in the mud. Messy, loud, and refusing to budge with every fiber of their being. You were so lost to the memories you nearly missed the sound of the door opening. Cerberus’ head lifted off the pillow looking at whoever it was and your arms tightened their hold around him instinctively. The urge to lift up and see who it was found you, but as you went to move your exhausted body it changed that desire quickly. Instead you just pressed your body harder into the warmth in front of you, keeping your eyes closed in hopes that sleep would find its footing at some point.

Needless to say, it didn’t. You listened to Ghost’s quiet movements around the room. Heard him stripping out of his clothes, and laying down on his bed. He didn’t fall asleep for a long time but when he did you could hear his deep breaths. It reminded you of Cerberus’ light snores; it was so soft and almost not even there, but you heard it, it was there. When the Dutchie fell asleep beside you as well you knew the night was going to be a long and absolutely terrible one.

------(Price POV)------

He didn’t look up as he threw his gear into the cage, shoving the rifle and pistol he’d given to Speck for the op into Wade’s chest as he stormed by. “You’ll get the rest from him tomorrow,” he grumbled. The sound that came from the blonde man sounded enough like a huff of annoyance that John immediately stopped in his tracks. His angry gaze was on the supply officer in less than a heartbeat. “Is there a problem, Corporal Wade?” The blonde tensed up in a moment as he held the weapons close to his chest.

His light blue eyes shot around the room in search of help or maybe an answer as to why the Captain was so short tempered. Not a soul dared to even meet his eyes though. John took a step closer, standing taller as his head tilted in that way that everyone knew meant to shut the hell up and just do what he said. The blonde shook his head slowly as he averted his eyes from the brunette, “No sir, Captain. Apologies sir,” Price’s jaw twitched as he watched the Corporal take a quick step back and about face before basically running to disappear through the armory door.

The Captain watched him go with a dark look, standing in place until the door had shut behind him. A second longer of staring and he pulled open the door of his cage with a shake of his head. He organized his gear back into their respective bins, his guns going into their cases before he closed them up. It took him all of five minutes to put his things away, in more of a rush to get out of there than anyone had ever seen him in before. Frustration and anger still pulsed in the back of his mind from his talk with that bloody American.

Normally he would have stuck around to clean everything but with his jaw working overtime, the muscle sore and yet still tensed, he knew he needed to get away. He headed straight across the base. Fuck the mess hall, fuck a shower, fuck changing clothes. Price needed a cigar, a bourbon, and some nice peace and fuckin quiet to chill the fuck out before he actually ended up hurting someone.

The squad room was dark and quiet as he entered, but he didn’t bother with the lightswitch. Just stepped around the couch like it was instinct and opened the door to his office. He clicked the lock into place on his door before he sat down in his chair behind his desk. The computer screen lit up in front of him, he must have forgotten to turn it off before he left his office last time.

Sitting his phone on top of the desk he grumbled, “Hey siri.” He paused to wait for the ding before continuing with, “Play my fuckin music.” As Price instructed the phone he opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle and a glass. Twisting the top off he poured himself a glass, listening as the music started up. ‘My Girl’ played softly from the speaker, and he tipped the glass back and downed the first glass in one go.

John took a deep breath as he set the glass back down, hands gripping into the arm rests of the chair for a few moments as he steadied himself. Your words played over in his head on repeat, ‘I don’t have anything to say, Captain.’ Nothing? Not a bloody thing? He’d wanted to shout at you. To shake you like that would pry the answer out of your stubborn fucking mouth.

It wouldn’t though. He knew it would only make things worse. It would take more than just shaking you to pry the information he wanted to know out of you. It would only serve to make you want to close off more. But he was patient and he was just as stubborn as you, he’d get it eventually. Besides who in their right mind would answer a man yelling bloody murder in their face? It was the way you’d looked at him though that had nearly set him off. Like it was a secret worth your life or something. A shake of his head and he was pouring another glass, that one disappearing just as fast as the first.

Finally the alcohol felt like it was working its magic on his mind. He poured another glass and set the bottle down on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think about you. How you’d looked away from him when all he so desperately wanted was to know why you seemed so off. You weren’t fidgety, and you’d still been pleasant enough before the mission. But it was like you had been in another place from the second you’d stepped in to see the team’s cages.

The way you’d stood in the center of the room still played over in his mind. He should have scrubbed you from the mission the second his instincts started telling him something was off with you. Should have scrubbed the whole fuckin mission and just put surveillance on the place. He picked up the glass of bourbon and took a slow sip and another few deep breaths. The music filled the room, floating around in his mind and working to calm him down like he was trained to come down to it. Technically he was after years of using it to relax.

Christ he couldn’t forget the dread though the moment he had seen Soap come out of that building and you weren’t with him. He’d hid it the best he could on his face but when the Sergeant had said you’d stayed behind to defuse the bomb he had nearly lost his mind. John had just gotten you back after eight months and the thought of losing you because he let you go out on your own with Soap as your partner would have eaten at him for the rest of his life.

A deep sigh and he pulled open another drawer, taking out a small wooden box as he opened it. He pulled out one of the thick brown cigars, smelling it with a deep breath before he nodded to himself. Standing up he moved to the window in the far corner, unlocking it before he opened it and headed back to his seat. 

Price prepped the cigar with surprising speed, cutting it with a cutter he kept in the top drawer of his desk next to his lighter. Sparking the lighter he tilted the end of the cigar over it, watching the edges go cherry before he put the lighter back down. When the edges were toasted properly he lifted the cigar to his mouth, holding it with one hand and sparking the lighter with the other. He puffed a few times as he rotated the cigar in his mouth, continuing the process until the whole end was hot and glowing.

He didn’t inhale at first, careful not to extinguish the light when he tapped the ash off the tip and took quick drags from it. Until finally it was prepared properly. Finally he could enjoy it and sit back with his glass in hand and his cigar in the other. The Captain leaned back in the chair and picked up his phone as he took puffs from the cigar. Notes of dark chocolate, maple, and spice hit his senses pleasantly along with the cognac-like sweetness of it. He smiled at the taste before he propped his feet up on the desk. The second his foot touched the desk though the screen of the computer lit up again.

Blue eyes flicked to the lit up screen, he really should shut that off. He wasn’t going to be using it today anyway. With a sigh he kicked his feet off the desk again and scooted forward to shut the computer down with a few quick clicks. Before he could kick back again though his eyes caught on the file with your picture on the front. The file Laswell had given him that had your entire military career hidden inside. Everything he had elected not to find out before the mission.

John had decided he would just ask you once things calmed down. He hadn’t wanted to invade your privacy, but with how things had just gone and his own anger still lingering it felt almost imperative that he found out more about you. Almost like it was dangerous not to know, wasn’t it? Reaching for the file he slid it over the desk towards him, his finger running over the picture of your face with a hard swallow. You were younger in this image. Eyes even brighter than they were now, a cocky smile on your face. It looked like you’d probably just gotten out BUD/S and hadn’t ever even seen a covert op before.

He couldn’t help the small turn up at the corners of his mouth as he sat the glass down and put the cigar between his lips and teeth. As he sat up in the chair and pulled himself closer to the desk he steeled himself as he opened the file. The first page was just the basics, basically your ‘about me’. It listed your skills, your number of deployments, your height, weight, eye color, hair color, age, birthday, original place of residence, citizenship status, your name-

The Captain froze as he stared down at the letters. Suddenly he remembered one of the reasons he had chosen originally not to look inside. Everything in him told him to look away and yet he couldn’t. The man was in a trance-like state as he zeroed in on the line and he knew he’d never be able to forget that name. It was currently being branded into his thoughts.

Suddenly he realized he wasn’t even breathing before he inhaled a deep breath. Cigar smoke filled his lungs and it threw him into a coughing fit as he pulled it from his mouth. It took him nearly a full minute to regain his breath. He set the cigar in the ashtray as he calmed his burning lungs, shaking his head at his incompetence.

And then your file was calling his name again as he sat forward and flipped to the next page before he was zoned out again. He took a sip of the bourbon as he scanned the pages. Your criminal record which was surprisingly long, military test scores, court transcripts, mission reports. There was almost too much information on you. It was the court transcripts that really took his interest first though.

You had been arrested by the NCIS and tried for eight counts of treason, conspiracy to commit murder, and the murder itself. Eight fuckin counts? Really? That just seemed exorbitant. He read through the transcripts with quiet bewilderment. The NCIS had tried to convict you for the deaths of your entire team. Not a shred of real evidence except for the simple fact that you had survived and they hadn’t.

A railroad case if he’d ever seen one. His brunette brows furrowed as he read through the accusations that had been thrown at you. And then he saw the section where you had been put on the stand, level headedly answering every single question with the simple facts of the event. John’s head shook as he sat back in the chair with the packet of papers in his hand and began to read.

Prosecuting Attorney (PA): Master Chief I’ve got to be honest it just doesn’t seem plausible that your entire team is killed in an explosion and yet you, by some miraculous turn of events, are still alive and here with us today.

Defending Attorney (DA): Objection your honor. Where is the question?

Judge: Sustained, ask a question.

PA: Of course your honor, my apologies. So Master Chief, where were you when the explosion happened?

Master Chief (MC): I was outside of the building speaking to the child.

PA: What child Master Chief?

MC: Our HVT’s child.

PA: And where were the rest of your team Master Chief?

MC: I had directed Bravo Two to continue on into the building to detain the HVT. Bravo Four was a dog handler as well and we shared duties on missions so I sent Xena in with him to help-

The rest of your statement had been marked out, scratched from the records.

PA: So you, Master Chief, stayed outside the building and sent your men inside without a leader. Bravo One for one of the most deadly teams in the world and you make a decision that ended with the death of eight tier one operators and your very own dog. Why was that, Master Chief?

MC: I didn’t have a choice.

PA: You didn’t have a choice?

MC: No. I was the only one that the child understood. If I left him there was no way to be sure he wouldn’t have become a safety risk.

PA: So you made the decision to send a less experienced team member into the building to lead your team. And another even less experienced handler to watch your dog. You then proceeded to remain outside the target building with your HVT’s child. Is that correct?

MC: Yes sir.

There were even more lines marked out as if you had tried to explain yourself even more and they had struck that from the record as well.

PA: So then how did you end up riddled with shrapnel from the explosion, Master Chief?

MC: I heard what sounded like shouting and was moving into the building as the bomb went off. I was pinned under the building debris for an hour before a medevac arrived. I was told I was lucky to be able to still walk.

PA: Oh you can do much more than walk, isn’t that right Master Chief? You were even cleared medically to operate again two weeks ago by your doctors. So while you, the only EOD expert on your team, were sitting outside this building with a child, your men were inside securing an HVT and just before they brought him out they got killed by an explosion. That’s correct isn’t it Master Chief?

MC: Yes sir.

PA: Is it not also correct that you were seen at a local bar two days before this incident with a known terrorist?

MC: No sir.

PA: No?

MC: No sir. I was at the bar, yes, but so were the rest of my team and nearly a hundred other people that night. It was the only bar in range of our base at the time of deployment. It’s not surprising there were other people there, sir. It was a popular bar.

John couldn’t help the proud little smile he got reading that last line. Your weird humor, jokes, and terrible timing were present even two years ago. Good to know that was just how you always were. The rest of the transcripts were just your attorney reiterating that you had tried to go in to save your team and that the prosecution really didn’t have anything on you in terms of evidence.

The whole case rested on the foundation that you had known there would be a bomb inside that building. That you had known your team was going to die in that explosion. But there was no real case there, nor was there even a shred of evidence. Just a lawyer trying to spin a tale about how you had been knowingly incompetent and had sent your team to their deaths. It was laughable, and laugh he did.

Flipping to the next page John picked up the AAR for the very mission having been referenced in that trial. A detailed list of events told him everything that had happened, or at least everything you had reported. Your arrival time had been 21:47. Your team had come in on trucks, there was no need for being covert as it had been in the middle of nowhere. Upon your arrival you cleared through the front gate of the property dispatching the four outside guards. As you went to enter the building though a child had come out the front door.

You stated in your after action report that the child had only been about nine or ten years old, a male of non-fighting age. But anyone could get lucky. So, you had handed off your dog to Bravo Four, a Petty Officer Second Class Knox. You had then given the lead of the team over to Bravo Two, a Senior Chief Petty Officer McCann. Then you had stayed with the child outside of the building until two minutes later when you reported to command you heard screaming.

The court transcripts had already said you heard yelling but your AAR stated more, and in much greater detail. John took a sip from his glass of bourbon, wiping at his tired eyes before he continued. Apparently you had heard a woman’s scream and a man shouting in Oromo from your place outside. You reported having made it into the building after ordering the kid to get back behind the front gate. As you entered though the explosion had leveled the building and you had been trapped under the debris. You didn’t report any kind of blackout or anything, apparently you had been awake the whole time.

His heart hurt as he read the report, just the idea of you being hurt set him on edge. But something like this stuck with a man. It became a part of them, and for most it would have taken over every thought so completely it was doubtful there would have been any coming back from that. Yet you had persevered, found a way to make it work. Found a way to keep your sanity even when the odds had been stacked so heavily against you. Hell you left the very country you were born in, your wife, your parents, your siblings, everything you’d ever known and still you were alive. You were here. You were, on the outside, still whole.

It didn't take long for him to delve deeper into the file Laswell had put together of you. He read every single detail that he could. Once he had started he couldn't bring himself to stop. You were an addiction he could never seem to soothe. And the parts he had been dying to learn, to discuss with you, were at his very fingertips after you had so stubbornly kept them from him. He couldn't help it as he flipped to the next AAR, the next training report, the next page of your life. John would consume every single word in this file if it was the last thing he ever did, and for that night it was.

-------(Speck POV)------

Sunlight had started to come in through the window an hour ago. You knew because you'd counted every second from sunrise at 0610 to now 0710. When you finally couldn't stand it anymore you pushed yourself up. Per usual Cerberus was awake the second you moved, hopping out of bed as he moved to his food and water bowl waiting for his morning meal. You were quick to give it to him, scooping food into the bowl and filling the other one from the small tap in the room.

As Cerberus ate you brushed your teeth, quickly and then grabbed one of the pairs of jeans Laswell had provided you with as well as one of the dark t-shirts. You reached over the end of the bed into your duffel as you grabbed the cowboy boots at the bottom. Fuck laces today, you were too damn tired to deal with them. Getting dressed you stayed scarily quiet, maybe Ghost was starting to rub off on you. 

Doubtful. Old dogs didn't learn new tricks. You had enough experience with them, you should know. Motioning for Cerberus the dog's head lifted from his water bowl as he trotted over, his muzzle dripping water all over the floor. It made you smile as you clipped the lead onto his collar and made for the door.

A deep rumble from the other side of the room stopped you though, "Where are you going?" Your eyes shot to the Lieutenant in the bed, his mask on and eyes glaring at you from where he was laying down. How long had he been awake? Holy hell. Maybe you hadn't been as quiet as you originally thought. Or maybe he sensed movement in the way the air moved through the room like some freaky cat man. Now that was a funny thought.

As it came to you though you drowned it in your mind. No way were you about to say that to him. Instead you cleared your throat and pointed towards the door, "Out." Hazel eyes narrowed into a true glare as he began to sit up. Quickly you tacked on, "To the mess hall. Out to the mess hall." Do not sass off to the scary fucker in the mask Speck. Please for the love of everything use your fucking brain.

Ghost rubbed at his face through the mask as he looked at you. Slowly he slid his long legs off the bed and stood up, "Wait." Simple enough to follow that instruction at least. You watched as he pulled on a pair of pants and a hoodie before he stood and grumbled, "Go." Leading him out you headed for the mess, it was surprisingly quiet this morning. Either too early or too late for the majority of the people on base. Moving through the line both you and Ghost found an empty table to take up residence at until it was time to head to the debrief.

It was only a couple minutes after that though that the table began to fill starting with Watcher who seemed just as awake as if it was the middle of the day. The ginger Scotsman cast you a friendly smile before saying, "Good mornin’ ta ye, Speck! Sleep well?" Those bright blue eyes flicked between the two of you with that sweet look. You were suddenly struck by just how young he looked. You'd thought about it a few times but until he was sitting there with a tray of food and those bright smiling eyes at 07:20 it hadn't occurred to you he barely looked a day over eighteen.

He reminded you of yourself when you'd first joined up. Fresh-faced and eager wouldn't even begin to cover it. You hadn't even finished high-school when you were running drills at boot camp. There had only been one path for a man who had fucked his life up when he got a girl pregnant at seventeen and set to deliver just a few months before graduation. So you'd sacrificed your future as an officer in the Navy and enlisted so she could finish high-school, so she could raise your daughter, so that both of their futures would be bright and happy. It hadn't been enough though, you’d never been enough.

When Ghost merely grunted at the ginger and lifted his mask up to take a bite of his eggs it left you to make conversation. Your dry eyes focused on the young man as you nodded, "Yeah. Slept great. How about you?" You kept the tiredness out of your voice, fixing him with a pleasant smile that you'd perfected over the years. Just smile and nod Speck, you'll get through this day just like you always do. Thoughts full of John and his disappointment and anger or no, you’d get through it.

The young Scotsman was soon joined by the youngest Brit on the team, you watched as Gaz took a seat beside Watcher with his own tray of food. It didn't even distract the young man in the slightest, "Aye I slept like a bear. Until Konig woke me up halfway through the night with his-" The noise the other man made took you completely aback. A small smirk finding your mouth at the noise. You blinked a few times and shot a look at Gaz who was smirking and then at Ghost who was…currently sitting with his head on his forearms and breathing deeply. Man was asleep again, good God.

Well he was asleep until Soap's tray of food clattered down beside him and he shot up with an angry look around the table for the perpetrator of such a heinous crime. For a second he looked like he was about to flip the dark haired Scotsman off the bench before he stopped himself settling for a quiet and seething glare fixing on him. "Good morning lads, beautiful sunrise this morning. I hope some of ye caught it," he didn't even glance at the withering look the Lieutenant was currently giving him. He had opted for the ignore and maybe he won't shoot you approach it seemed.

You gave him a quick smile and answer, "Oh yeah she was a beauty this mornin’." You shoveled some of the potatoes into your mouth along with a scoop of eggs. The Lieutenant across from you visibly recoiled at the sight of you mixing your food in your mouth. You wouldn't have taken Ghost for a picky eater but apparently you were wrong because when you did it again he threw his legs over the bench and put his back to you as he leaned against the table. It was honestly kind of a humorous sight to see the big man so broken by the sight of your eating habits.

Soap looked like he was about to say something when phones around the table buzzed. God already? You couldn't take another op this soon, not after the sleepless night you'd just suffered through. A smile lit up Soap's face the second he saw the text though and with the way he was looking you couldn't help but be curious. Leaning forward across the table a bit you caught the Sergeant's attention and he suddenly seemed to realize the fact that you weren't privileged with a phone at the moment. "No debrief this morning. Price said Laswell can't make it so we'll just do our AAR's and call it a day." You forced a smile on your face despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

No debrief meant you weren't likely to see him today then. Which also meant you wouldn't know if he'd forgotten about the whole mess of yesterday or not. You should have been happy like the rest of them, but the settling fact that you weren't likely to see John unless you sought him out was already weighing on you. Everyone else at the table was all smiles, chatting it up together as they ate their breakfast. Meanwhile you were a thousand miles away and off in your own drowning pit of despair.

When you finished the food on your tray you downed the rest of your water, gave the rest of the team a pleasant enough smile and bid your goodbyes. Maybe a shower would help, it always felt good to get clean, right? Wash all the burdens down the drain and let the warm water relax your muscles. Anything was better than continuing to let your brain rot in this purgatory it seemed to be settling itself into. Just go take a shower and forget your problems for a few minutes. Maybe then you could figure out how to fix this gap you'd only seemed to widen with John since you’d gotten here.

Stepping into the bunkhouse you unclipped Cerberus' lead, watching him move back to his unfinished breakfast and water bowl. You grabbed one of the clean sets of clothes from the table where you'd left them the other day. It looked so cluttered now, you really should pack all of this into your duffel. Ghost didn't strike you as the type to enjoy being surrounded by a mess. Bit of a clean freak if his spotless side of the room was anything to go by.

When you glanced at the corner where you'd thrown your duffel you quickly remembered you'd been forced to shed your gear in here last night. Damn you really needed to get all that stuff back to Wade lest that man had a conniption fit when his numbers were off. After a shower though, stay focused man. You lifted your duffel out of the corner, setting it on the bed and glancing through it. The black Georgia Bulldogs hat was near the top of the contents as you pulled it out, settling it on your head. It'd been too long since you'd been able to wear this thing and it was more of a comfort than you'd remembered, a small reminder of home that you'd forgotten you ever even needed.

Continuing to sort through the bag though your brows began to furrow. What the hell? You shifted the contents of the bag again and felt your heart rate rising with every second that it didn't touch your hand. Where the fuck was it? Another scramble of the contents of the bag and still the object you were looking for didn't turn up. No, no, no…Without a moment of hesitation you flipped the contents of the bag out, watching the items clutter the bed. Cerberus' spare tactical collar, his chain collar, the staple gun, knives, duct tape, countless other meaningless things but not the one thing that fucking mattered.

The bag dropped from your grip as you stared at the contents spilled onto your bed. Anger was beginning to boil underneath your skin, real and all consuming because it was the one thing that mattered other than Cerberus. The one thing you never left anywhere without. Hell it was the only thing other than your hat and boots that had made it this far from the US. If you thought you'd felt sick before this was more like a deadly plague. The back of your hand pressed against your lips, starting to shake as you breathed through the panic.

When the door opened behind you, you whirled on the Lieutenant coming through the door with Soap on his heels. They both stared at you for a tense moment but you couldn't have cared less what they were here to do. Instead your mind was filled with another question and you blurted it out without even thinking, "Did you go through my stuff, Ghost?" Somehow you kept the panic out of your voice and eyes. How you did it was a mystery but you'd managed it just barely.

Immediately Ghost's head tilted to the side and he blinked. Did he think that you were joking or something? Answer the fucking question, and answer he did, "No." Like hell he hadn't. No one else ever came in here who else would have touched your stuff.

You couldn't stop yourself from blurring out the accusation with a hard look, "No one else comes in here Ghost so if you didn't touch it who did?" It was stupid and you shouldn't have done it. When you were looking back on this moment you knew you would be regretting it, but the panic coursing through you along with the need to find it was making you incapable of worrying about the consequences.

Ghost's glare was obvious behind his mask then as he shot back, "How the bloody hell should I know? Come on, Johnny," the big man herded Soap out of the room and the door slammed shut behind him. Your hands couldn't stop shaking now, not even Cerberus' whines were reaching you and calming you down like they normally did.

This was the one thing you couldn't lose. The one thing that couldn't be replaced. Take your hat, take your boots, hell take a fucking limb but don't take that. Solutions ran through your head, maybe you'd left it somewhere. Even as you thought it you didn't believe it but maybe, just maybe, you'd forgotten it somehow.

Where was the last place you remember having it? In the showers. You'd seen it in your duffel bag as you were getting dressed after you and John had fucked. Start there then. "Fuss," you muttered and threw the door open, not even bothering with the dog's lead or to clean up the mess on your bed. You just took off running across the base with Cerberus at your side.

When you threw open the door of the showers you bolted inside. Cerberus panted beside you into the humid room, pacing the length of the aisle as you searched frantically through the locker you'd been using that day. Top to bottom it was completely empty, not so much as an indication it or you or anyone had ever been in there. "Fuck," you growled out, knuckles slamming against cold metal before you could even stop yourself.

A dent stared back at you as you held onto the sides of the locker. Rocking into it slowly your forehead tapped against the metal, you squeezed your eyes shut telling yourself to think, to remember. It had been in your bag a few days ago. Hadn't it? You'd seen it. Or had you just thought you saw it cause it was always there.

"Think!" You yelled to yourself as the side of your fist slammed into the locker then and you turned around. Cerberus was on the bench in front of you, his head tilting before he let out a low whine. When he moved his face closer to you though you backed away, all you could think about was her. The one you'd lost. And now you'd even lost the only fucking thing you had left of her. The Dutchie's head tilted to the other side and his ears pinned back to his skull. You'd never refused his touch before, never backed away from his comforting warmth. In fact you almost always without fail leaned into it, sought him when something was wrong.

Cerberus didn't understand, how could he? Your fingers shot up into your hair, tangling into the locks as you tried to steady yourself. To fight back the rising panic that was so close to consuming you. Just retrace your steps, it wasn't like you'd been all that many places on base yet. Where else had you been other than the showers? There was the mess hall but it definitely wasn't there and if it had ever been it wouldn't be there anymore. The cages but there was no way you would have brought it there, you knew you were heading out on a mission. You'd never be so careless with it. The squad room and John's office-

That had to be it, it was the only other place you'd been since you got here. If it wasn't in the showers or the bunkhouse it had to be there. You started off again, out the door with Cerberus at your hip as you sprinted across the base towards the squad room. As you peeled the corner and made for the door you stopped, frozen in place. The keypad glared at you with its mocking red light.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, the frustration was overflowing. Your anger and other emotions were the only thing holding the panic at bay now. Your foot kicked against the heavy door, a blockade you couldn't breach without the proper tools of which you had none. Once the beating started you couldn't stop it though, you reared back and let loose again as your foot slammed into the door. Your punches followed a moment after as you tried to beat the heavy obstacle into submission. Pain shot through your fist but even that didn’t stop the overwhelming anger and frustration.

It didn't budge. It wouldn’t fuckin budge. Until it did. And before you could stop it your foot slammed directly into John's solar plexus. Your eyes went wide immediately as you rushed frantically for him, "Oh shit, oh fuck. I'm sorry, I didn't mean- That was- I'm- Fuckin- Holy crap I'm sorry, John." Great now you'd hurt him both physically and emotionally. Why not go for the trifecta and just scar him for life Speck?

The Brit had stumbled backwards and landed on the couch when your full force kick had caught him so completely unawares. At first you saw anger flash in his eyes as he looked up at your face. Until he realized who it was and that your hand was currently pressed into his chest where the blow had landed. Then his rough palm came up to press against the back of your hand warm as his eyes searched yours. Your thoughts were buzzing and full with him. His warmth, his smell, the burning look in his eyes. It all crashed over your senses and for just a moment you forgot just why you'd been trying to beat the poor door in a few moments ago.

Then it all came crashing back the second he rumbled out, "I'm fine, no worries." Your fight with him, his anger at you, the near sacred object that you had lost. Like lightning your hands were back by your sides as you stepped away from him and looked around the squad room. His footsteps as he stood from the couch and Cerberus' both followed you, and you could hear John's curiosity without him even having to say anything. You didn't have the time to talk though, at least not in your mind.

Any second now you were going to lose what little calm you were currently able to hold onto. And there wasn't much of that to start off with after a sleepless night. Your eyes darted around the room as you moved to the fridge, glancing at the floors and the counter. Pulling the microwave off the wall as if what you were looking for could even fit behind there. "Speck?" John said your name and it didn't even register as you moved to the table you'd seen Watcher and Konig sitting at. You had stopped to talk to the German that morning, maybe it was there.

Looking around the table you huffed and dropped to your hands and knees inspecting the floor under the table as well. "Speck," it was a demand now and while it registered it wasn't for long. You didn't even turn your eyes up to him before you were back on your feet and moving towards the couch again. The cushions didn't last long as you started to pull them off, scanning as panic began to set in again.

Nothing, it wasn't there. Why wasn't it there? Cerberus was starting to whine again, he could sense your growing panic and he shoved his face into your hand. As if it had scalded you, you jerked away from him. Stepping away from the dog as he laid down with a dejected look on his face and his head on his paws, watching you with those big chocolate eyes. Fuck, stop doing that Speck. He doesn't even know what's going on. You'd lost one dog to a tragic accident already. The last thing you needed was to lose another because you couldn't keep it together.

"Stop," you whispered to yourself, hands reaching back into your hair and pressed against the sides of your head as if you could stop the racing thoughts by the force of your own hands. Faces flashed in your mind, groans of pain from you and the others trapped in that building. Their seared flesh assaulting your nose as you tried to do anything but wretch onto the ground at the stench of their burnt bodies. Yelps reached your ears, howls of pain from an animal who couldn't quite understand what had happened. Just as the rest of your team had been, Xena had been trapped in that rubble, flesh burnt and cooked alive in the initial blast.

McCann's scream as he probably tried to move and realized he was missing more than one limb. You knew that voice anywhere and you'd seen his body as they medevaced you all out. He'd been your best friend since you'd been Bravo Three when he'd just joined the teams and that was the day you'd lost him. After nearly ten years of operating together you had been forced to listen as he screamed and cried and begged to be put out of his misery.

That was the day you lost them all. McCann, Suarez, Knox, Zerol, Tyler, Baez, Anders, Cole, and Xena, nine losses in one day. It never should have happened to begin with, it was supposed to be a knockout op and everything had come crashing down around you. And the only thing you had left of them, of your brothers, of that life, was gone. You'd lost it just like you'd lost them, because you were careless and distracted and fucking stupid.

"Speck!" Hands grabbed your shoulders in an iron grip that made you wince at first as the man who had been trying to talk to you since the moment you'd walked through the door started shaking you. He pulled you out of the torrential downpour of your mind, finally drawing your eyes up to him even as you tried to drag yourself away. "Hey! Listen, look at me, sweetheart. You're ok, yeah?" The fingers holding you were too much, a physical touch that set your neurons on fire and made you flinch away even when you didn't mean to.

Your hand slammed into his elbow as you tried to pull away, unable to control your thoughts and movements at the same time. As soon as John noticed how hard you were struggling to get away though his hands released your shoulders and you backed up a few steps from him. Your mind was alight with stimuli, throwing you into a whirlwind of experience as you stumbled backwards away from him. The brunette held up his hands, your eyes zeroing in on the calloused palms and inspecting every mark, scar, and patch of skin you could get your eyes on. "Just sit down for me before you hurt yourself," that made sense. A very logical thought John.

The back of your thighs hit the table and your hands shot backwards. Your fingers dug into the wood as your breaths came fast and uncontrolled. John waited until you slid yourself backwards onto the table before he stepped forward a step. You gaze shot up, fixing onto his soft eyes and for just a moment you saw McCann in his gaze. Until now you hadn't realized it but they had shared the same color eyes, maybe that was why you'd so easily trusted him. John reminded you of him. The man you'd pined after for nearly a decade without any ability to go through with it. You were married and by the time you weren't well…by the time you weren't he was long gone from this cruel world.

"What's wrong?" His words rumbled out smoothly in that deep, gravelly voice. Immediately your head shook in response and you saw a frown come over his features. Surprisingly he didn't press the issue though as he asked, "What are you looking for? I'll help you find it. And, don't you dare say nothing because you just tore apart our squad room." Slowly your eyes slid over the tornado that had come through here and you dropped your eyes to hide your embarrassment.

A shrug lifted your shoulders as you tried to answer, "I'm not- It's not-" The hand that wrapped around the side of your neck stopped your words before you could attempt to give him an absolutely absurd lie. His fingers dug into the flesh where your spine sat just below the skin, grounding you with the intense pressure that was edging on pain but hadn't quite made it there yet. Slowly your eyes lifted once more to find his steady, blue gaze. John watched you patiently, giving you the time to get your thoughts in order after your near breakdown but refusing to give you the space. It was a delicate line he was currently walking but somehow he was managing to balance on the tightrope of your psyche.

Just tell him, Speck. He'd said he would help you find it. Besides you seriously doubted he was about to relent his hold on your neck until you spilled what had nearly had you tumbling overboard. "It's something from my time in the SEALs," you muttered quietly and you watched him give a quick nod to indicate he'd heard. Nothing else though. He was still waiting for more and you felt your lips loosening as you started speaking, "It's important, John. It looks, uh," you paused trying to figure out how to describe it, "Like a, um," Another pause stopped you. God Speck, spit it out, "Well like a bloody shirt. It looks like a bloody rolled up shirt." His head tilted then and his grip loosened.

For a moment it felt like he was about to pull away and the moment the thought crossed your mind your hand shot up to wrap around his wrist. His gaze flicked down as you held his rough hand against your neck, his thumb swiping over your cheek with a soft touch. While his eyes and touch screamed soft and caring his voice was all business, "Where'd you see it last, Love?" Huh, he was actually going to help, and he wasn't even going to judge you for it. That was certainly a surprise.

Your eyes closed as you thought, recollecting your memories and sifting through them like files. "In my duffel bag where I always keep it. I just don't get it," your eyes opened quickly to find his gaze again as you pulled his hand down to your lap where your fingers ran over his skin in slow circles. It distracted your mind just enough that you could continue, "I mean I never take the damn thing out of my bag. Ever. Not since I left the US. It stays in there-" Your palms pressed to either side of his hand, lifting it slowly to brush his knuckles against your lips and close your eyes. "I can't lose it, John," you whispered against his skin and felt his fingers tighten around yours.

There was determination in his gaze when you looked back up at him as he brought his other hand up to rest against the back of yours. He gave a quiet nod before he pulled your hands apart, "Let's go then. We'll find it." John backed up and you slid back to the floor, following after him slowly. He stopped at the door and glanced behind you quickly before his head tilted, "Leaving Cerberus here, Speck?" Oh God you'd almost forgotten about him being here. Get back on your game before you mess something else up.

Glancing back towards the Dutchie you saw her again, for just a moment. Singed and crying and dying as she searched desperately for you. Collapsing down beside you in her final moments with her sides heaving as she whined and begged for the familiar comfort you had always brought. Your jaw tensed for just a moment until you felt a hand on your shoulder and you steeled yourself once more. Putting up that mask that kept people at a distance. You were fine, that was two years ago, Xena was gone and you had moved on from her and Bravo Team. "Hier, Cerb," the dog stood up, hesitating for just a moment before he trotted up to you, sitting at your feet with his ears pinned back and his tail whipping back and forth behind him slowly, almost nervously.

You knelt for a moment in front of him. Twice today you had pulled away from his comfort. Twice today you had hurt him without meaning to. "I'm sorry buddy," your hand ran over his head, you patted him on his side listening to the solid thump. And then you were standing up, issuing a quick, "Fuss," to the Dutchie as you turned to find John.

The Brit had already opened the door and was waiting for you patiently. As you slid by him his fingers reached out to grab your shoulder stopping you for just a moment as he stared hard at you before stating simply, “We’ll find it. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me, yeah?” You felt heat in your cheeks then, holding the breath you’d already taken in. Giving him a few quick, short nods your eyes shot down to his boots feigning interest in the laces as you swallowed hard. It felt too intimate, too close, like he truly cared about how you felt. It was a foreign experience to you.

His hand stayed at your shoulder for a few moments before he gave it a small squeeze and let the door close as he headed on down the halls. Following behind him until you were outside and you caught up, matching strides with him all the way back to the bunkhouse. Pushing the door open you stepped inside, eyes shooting to the bed where you had dumped quite literally everything out of the bag onto it. John came in behind you and closed the door quietly, his chin lifting as he looked at the mess on your side of the room.

No judgment found you though like you expected, instead he just walked over and you followed behind him. His eyes ran over the items you’d strewn over the bed, and then found the duffel bag. Meticulously he ran his hands around the inside of the duffel to check it before he started to place every single item back inside. Glancing at you with a question in his eyes, even asking on the first few, “Is this it?” When you shook your head though he would place it in the duffel and then move on to the next one.

When he ran out of items laying on the bed he moved to the table where your clothes were all still folded neatly on it. The two of you repeated the same process with the articles of clothing as he placed them all into the duffel. Not only was he helping you look for the most sacred object you possessed, at the exact same time he was helping you clean up the small space you’d been given to share with the Lieutenant.

Still there was no luck so he zipped the bag up and left it on the table for the moment. He moved to the corner where your gear had been left the night before and inspected each item carefully. John pulled what he knew was the standard issue gear you’d been given for the mission out of the corner and laid it on the table next to the duffel. His dark brows furrowed in concentration as he looked at the now empty and cleaned up space. 

The nails on your fingers scratched nervously at the short hairs on your jaw, the panic beginning to rise again as you stated, “See? It’s not here. Shit don’t make sense, John.” Blue eyes turned your way for a moment before you continued, “I asked Ghost if he’d been through my stuff and he said no. I just don’t get it.” You sighed and leaned back against the wall you were standing against.

Your chin tilted down against your chest, arms crossing over your chest as you closed your eyes and raised a hand to your forehead. Actively fighting back those waves of panic again. Preparing the coral reef that protected the shores of your fragile ecosystem from the oncoming tsunamis that were your memories. It was gone. You’d lost it. After two years of protecting such a precious object you’d lost it due to your own stupidity.

A hand was on yours in the next moment. Those rough palms pulling your hand off your forehead and replacing it with his own warm and lined one. His hands cupped your cheeks grounding you in the present as you fought as hard as you could to stop the emotions trying to tear free from you. Two years and you had never expressed that grief, that pain, to anyone. There honestly hadn’t been anyone after…well after the accident.

John’s deep voice rumbled in front of you, “Listen to me.” You didn’t say anything, not even a grunt to let him know you were listening and so his fingers slid down to the back of your neck. Thumbs still pressed against the bone of your cheek as it rubbed soothingly over it, “It’s gonna be ok, sweetheart. Since when do you give up, huh?” The words made you think of all those months ago laying in his bed when you’d told him that you were, ‘Never out of the fight.’ Right now though you felt like you didn’t have the energy to barely even stand in front of him anymore. Much less fight to find the object that kept you grounded in life now.

Unconsciously you leaned forward into him, feeling his weight slowly wrapping around you. Your arms slid around his waist as you pulled him into your chest, forcing him to brace himself against the wall with a hand on either side of your shoulders. Without even really considering what you were doing your face slid into the crook of his neck, seeking comfort in a way you’d never been able to do before. Not a soul alive or dead had ever been a source of physical comfort for you and the feeling was quickly becoming intoxicating to you.

His arms boxed you in on either side before he slowly let his weight press you back into the wall. Heavy against you and the solid barrier behind you. It was like the entirety of a weighted blanket had just been thrown over just your chest, his arms slowly sliding around your back. He felt almost cautious against you, like he was afraid he was going to scare you away from the intimacy. However the only thoughts that were running through your mind at the moment were the ones currently telling you how bad you’d fucked up.

Your nose pressed hard into his neck, eyebrows furrowing as you winced from the physical sensations of grief pressing into the depths of every nerve ending in your body. He was the rock you were currently clinging to in an effort to keep yourself above the oncoming storm. “I don’t give up, John,” you finally muttered into his neck, squeezing your arms tighter around his waist. You didn’t say, ‘But what else can we do now?’ However, you certainly thought it. Your face pressed up into the warmth of his neck, blocking out the light of the day currently flooding into the room and making your eyes hurt.

Exhaustion wracked your entire body at this point. You’d checked everywhere, what else was there to do? The deep voice rumbled in front of you, vibrations running through your whole chest as he said, “Exactly.” He went quiet then, letting you exist in the silence and his warmth. 

God, how long had it been since you’d actually felt someone so close like this and it wasn’t because they were trying to get into your pants? Never? There wasn’t a time you could remember when anyone had actually ever done this for you. Just let you hug them and not expect anything in return. Hell you don’t think you’d ever had anyone to hug before. How sad was that? Jesus christ you were fucked up.

John tensed in your arms suddenly and you mirrored his reaction. Feeling his grip loosening from around your back before he pulled away and suddenly the door was open. Still leaning back against the wall you turned your head to glance at the intruder. The white skull mask turned to find you as you crossed your arms over your chest and slid your carefully crafted mask into place. John raised a brow at the Lieutenant.

The big man stayed silent before you, not willing to broach the territory of a conversation first before either of you. It was John who finally spoke after more than a few awkwardly staring seconds, “Need anything Lieutenant?” Ghost turned his intense gaze to the brunette and you saw those hazel eyes narrow before flicking between the two of you. Did he know? Had he seen the two of you? Great just one more thing to add to the five course meal of anxiety you’d already been served today.

He seemed to realize something though as he glanced beside you to the empty table and asked, “Did Wade bring our laundry back?” Your head tilted immediately in question and he stared for a few seconds before saying, “Laundry day? Wade did ours. He said he dropped it off when I saw him earlier.” Your head lifted a little higher and you stepped around the table to grab the duffel bag and unzip.

Counting through the items of clothing you narrowed your eyes and muttered, “Sixteen.” John stepped closer with a confused look and you growled, “Sixteen pairs of pants and sixteen shirts. He went through my duffel for my clothes.” Anger pulsed through you, the panic that had been present a moment before completely extinguished in the blazing heat that was your rage. “He took it,” you said to John before turning to Ghost and asking, “Where was he headed?”

The big man gave you a curious look before shrugging the mass of his shoulders and answering, “Said something about the gym I think.” Ghost’s eyes were narrowed at your seething form now as you moved towards the door.

Turning to John you asked, “Where’s the gym?” The brunette watched you for a moment before he headed by you out the door and you were hot on his heels. He led you in the direction of the obstacle course but turned off the path before he got there and into a fenced in outdoor gym. And there the pale blonde stood doing barbell curls without a single damn care in the world while you ran around base nearly having a heart attack because of him.

“Speck,” John stopped you with a hand against your chest and made sure to catch your eye before he added, “I’ll talk to him. You just stay here, yeah?” Your jaw worked for a few seconds as it clenched and unclenched. He wanted you to just stay here? You deserved to be over there, to make sure that idiot knew and understood what he had done. John wasn’t going to let you no matter what, better to just agree and so you gave him a single nod of response. The Captain watched for just a moment longer before he turned and headed over to where Wade was just setting the barbell down.

There wasn’t a chance in hell you were staying over here though, no matter what you’d just told John. You stalked across the gym, slipping through the other men and women currently working out as you blended into the crowd of soldiers, even escaping John’s watchful gaze long enough to get closer. As you neared your target you slowed down, catching the words of confusion from Wade who was saying, “I don’t know what you are talking about Captain. I did laundry like I always do.” Another slinking step forward and you finally caught Price’s eyes, but then Wade said the words that changed the game, “I went through his things like I told him I would. There was a bloody shirt at the bottom of his bag that I threw out, yes, but I was under the impression-”

“You did what?” Your question came out before you could stop it, you truly hadn’t even meant to say it aloud. The man froze in front of you as you stood at his back seeming to loom over him like a shadow now. You were taller than him yes but you certainly weren't loom over him tall, not until that very moment anyway. Wade slowly turned his head to glance over his shoulder, finding the deadpanned look you were currently fixing on his wiry frame, but it was impossible to miss the growing rage swirling in your eyes. “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” The blonde darted forward over the barbell he had dropped a few moments ago with surprising quickness and put Price’s large form between you and him.

Frantically the man answered you with a quick, “I-I threw it away. It was just a bloody shirt. I can’t get that much blood out so-so-so I got rid of it. I told you I was going to!” For a tense and surprisingly quiet moment you just stared at the man. You were so still it was like staring at the dead eyes of a statue, not even your jaw was working anymore. He’d thrown it away? He’d thrown your stuff away? Your fists clenched despite the stillness of the rest of your body.

Until not even your shock could hold you to the ground anymore and you lunged forward so fast you were around Price almost before the man could react. Just as you darted by though his arm whipped out, fingers wrapping around your forearm as you did the same and snapped Wade’s arm up in an iron grip. Immediately they were both pulling in different directions in their attempt to get you off of the Corporal. John was dragging you back by the one arm and wrapping his arm around your torso in an attempt to control your sudden outburst. Wade was pulling away as hard as he could, prying the bone crushing grip of your fingers off of his comparatively thin wrist.

Price’s arm locked your other arm down to your side even as you held onto Wade, lifting you up off the ground as you fought back with wild elbows. He jerked you around to the other side and your grip on Wade couldn’t hold any longer at the force of two people working to get you off of him. The wiry man backed up as Price restrained your now free arm. “Get back here fuckface,” you yelled at him, drawing eyes from the rest of those at the gym but not a bit of embarrassment coursed through you. 

Your growl shifted to John right behind you then, “You promised me you’d get it back. Taking it back now?” The volatile anger was on full display now, completely unhinged and exploding. Unlike your pain, grief, and panic, anger was one of the only emotions you’d ever been allowed to set free and by God were you letting it go. There was a readiness to kill in your eyes that couldn’t have been rivaled even by a rabid dog. Your talisman had been taken from you, ripped from your very soul, and there was nothing centering you anymore. No one could have calmed you down at that moment, not a soul alive or dead.

When John whipped you back around so he could find Wade’s eyes he glared at the man and said through gritted teeth as he strained to keep you restrained, “Find it, Wade. I don't care what you have to do, but you find that fucking shirt. Now.” The pale blonde backed up a few more steps as he watched you still trying to break free with a singular thought to get to him, and then the man took off at a sprint out of the fenced in gym. And especially away from the killer that was currently trying to fight their way towards him with tooth and nail.

The arms around you hugged you so tight to his body that with every breath out you felt how much harder it was to take in the next one. His arms were rock hard against your torso as they strained and flexed. The growl in your ear barely registered, “Speck stop. He’s going to get it back,” your feet hit the ground and the second they did you spun him around shoving him backwards towards the fence until you felt his body hit against it. The Brit held fast though as he growled again, “If you don’t stop I will make you. Control yourself.”

The words grated your mind like nails on a chalkboard. Making you flinch away as you tried to rein yourself in. “Control myself? Control myself!?” In one swift, anger fueled movement of your hands they shot up to the weak point where his fingers were locked together and broke his hold. “I was controlling myself.” You stepped closer to him, breaths coming in deep and fast as you spat, “He’d be dead right now on the ground if I hadn’t been controlling myself.” Backing up a step you growled at the other man, “You have no idea what he did, Captain,” before you could back up again he grabbed you by the arm. His fingers wrapping around your bicep as he drug you out of the fenced in area.

Both of you turned a corner into a little space between two buildings before you jerked your arm from his grip. He stood a little straighter in response and took a deep breath before he finally spoke as calmly as he could, “I don’t know what he did because you won’t tell me. So tell me. Explain why you just tried to kill one of my men.” Again with this, good Lord. Why in the hell did he want to know so bad? What did it matter the reason why, you’d done it that was the end of the story right? A sigh left you as you shook your head and started to turn to leave but he blocked your path.

Turning back around you clenched a fist. You’d never talked about it, he didn’t want to see that. Watch you break down talking about dead men he’d never even known. He wouldn’t care, it was your problem to handle and you had been before this whole team came alone. John didn’t want to see what would happen when you were forced to talk about this. It was degrading, shameful, no one was supposed to see you like that and especially not another man. John wasn’t backing down though as you stared him down, you either talk or get prepared for an actual fight.

For the first time in a long time though you’d found a man you weren’t willing to just let loose and deck. You broke first, eyes averting to the ground with a sigh. Just get it over with, keep it together, and then go find Wade and finish the job. “It’s the shirt I was wearing when I lost my team,” his hard gaze softened but only just barely. He wasn’t letting you off that easy this time, he wanted more. “I keep…things inside of it.” Your arms crossed over your chest, fingers picking at the skin of your elbow as you tried to keep the anxiety from bubbling up at the memory of your most holiest of possessions.

“How did you lose your team?” His question made you tense, spine going rigid as you fought back those memories again. Why? Why ask a question like that? Your eyes shot past him before you shook your head. That wasn’t going to cut it though because he asked again immediately, “How did you lose your team, Speck?” Your lips parted for a moment almost finding the resolve to answer and then losing it just as quickly as it had come.

Shifting uncomfortably on your feet you wrapped your arms a bit tighter around your torso and shook your head muttering, “I’ve never-” Your voice cracked and you hid it behind a false clearing of your throat. John’s eyes narrowed in response but he remained stubbornly in front of you blocking your way. Again your gaze dropped to the ground and you shook your head, “I can’t talk about it.” You took a breath and saw him move forward like he was about to say something else in response before you added, “Not here.” Well you’d bought yourself some time with that one at least as you watched him pause his step and then beckon you with a wave.

He led you back through the paths to the bunkhouses. Bothering to keep stride with him felt pointless now. The exhaustion was hitting you as your anger once again evaporated out of your mind like sweat off of skin. You had no doubt that if Wade were to enter your field of view again you would be raring to go. However, as of right now you just felt the full weight of everything you'd kept so compressed behind lock and key for two years finally coming back to bite you in the ass. 

You were so out of it. Just barely managing to force yourself to follow with a straight face and your eyes locked on John's back that you didn't even hear the approaching feet behind you. A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked a couple times, turning to find Soap watching you curiously as he walked behind Price with you. "Are ye ok?" A half smile tilted up the corner of your mouth in response and you nodded instinctively. It was a conditioned response so ingrained into you that it happened of its own volition. "Well did ye find what ya were looking for?" Another brick was added to the growing number on your back, weighing you down you were sure you were going to start sinking into the ground any minute now.

There was a hitch in your step and you just barely caught yourself as the toe of your boot grazed against the ground and caught on the path below you. You very nearly took a nosedive for the ground hands reaching out to grab onto something to stop your descent. Something caught you and you looked up, saved by the man you'd been following who had stopped abruptly by chance and turned with wide eyes as you fell. Immediately you pushed yourself away from him and gave a small smile and huff of amusement to keep the Scot from asking too many questions. You were so off your game of being "Speck" that you were nearly unrecognizable as an operator right now and the last thing you needed was Soap deciding he wanted to know why too.

Thankfully John answered for you, "Don't you have paperwork to fill out Soap? I expect it to be on my desk by morning." The Scotsman was groaning nearly as soon as the words 'Don't you' came out of the Captain's mouth. He retreated with a few quick goodbyes and I’ll see you laters before John kept walking while you trailed behind him. When you ascended the stairs and he opened the door of his bunkhouse he locked the door behind you and guided you to one of the chairs in the room. "Sit," he ordered in that deep voice that for once wasn't reaching below your belt where it usually did.

The sound died almost the second it hit your ears but you did manage to comply with the order. Leaning back in the chair with your elbow on the table beside you as you turned your face to rest your mouth on your fist. John pulled up a chair in front of you then and you were reminded very suddenly of when he'd done the same during his interrogation of you. 

That's what this was though wasn't it? It was just another interrogation except this time the information was valuable. Something you actually cared about. A secret you held so closely and dear to your heart that you'd never let anyone even come close to it before. Yet here you were about to divulge it to a man, to John. Good God your parents were right, you were weak.

Shifting your eyes to his, he was already staring at you. It made your eyes flick away immediately, fixing on the door, your escape. John said nothing though, he just sat there and he waited. The man was patient beyond reason, patient and stubborn, a natural born sniper. You lost track of the time the two of you spent sitting there in silence with him unmoving as he watched you. Meanwhile you were doing everything in your power not to shift under his gaze all the while failing miserably.

It had to have been close to two hours, if not more than that, by the time you finally opened your mouth, "It was an explosion." Your throat felt dry as you spoke and you saw him sit forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees listening intently. And again he waited, sat there unmoving once more wearing down your psyche with his gaze and quietness alone. "I fucked up. I sent them in without me when I never should have." You felt your breaths becoming shallower, your throat tightening in response to your admission of guilt for the first time ever. Acknowledging your part in your team's death out loud this time, not just in your head.

There was no lying to John though. You couldn't lie and especially not now, not about this. People saw through you so easily it was laughable, and sadly there was no role to play here but your own sad and pathetic one. So your story continued, "I tried to go in for them but by the time I got my shit together it was too late. Got blown up, ten times worse than the bombs at Zabol's market. This one had one hell of a kick." You remember the deafening sound, the way your ears had rung for weeks afterwards. The heat though, that searing pain of first degree burns as every hair on the front of your body singed with it. The heat was what stuck with you even now after two years.

Sitting up your hands clasped between your thighs, palms squeezing and rubbing together as you tried to mitigate the response to the memories. You failed. "They died because I made a bad decision," the acknowledgement made tears prick into your eyes, blurring your vision as you blinked them back. "I made the wrong decision and I wasn't fast enough to correct it. I lost eight brothers that day, eight of them John. My dog, too." Your eyes found him for a quick moment before darting away once more to watch your palms rubbing together still.

How did a supposed leader even fuck up so monumentally? The best of the best, that's what you had been called, that's what had been expected of you. Yet it had ended up with you lying on your back stuck under the wall that had collapsed on top of you. Your nails dug into the back of your hand until finally the pain was bringing you back. Crescent moons of blood erupted just beneath your fingernails and in your mind it felt good. Anything was better than the emotional pain of actually dealing with your grief.

John was still quiet in front of you, and you still couldn't bring yourself to look at his face. Especially not with the screams echoing in your ears again. "I was outside with a child when I heard someone screaming inside so I told the little boy to go, run as far as he could and don't come back," your voice was losing its volume and the steadiness that you had forced into it.

There was no telling how much longer you'd be able to keep it together now. Get through it so you can leave, hurry up Speck, "I watched him run, right past the front gate. And I could hear the screaming still from inside,” your hand lifted to run over your mouth as you remembered the woman and man shouting. “I heard my-my Two, McCann was his name. Ryan McCann. He commed and said he had the HVT. I hesitated, I was gonna let him finish and then I-I heard him yell something about a bomb. I was the only EOD on the team," you swallowed hard remembering when that lawyer had stated the very same thing while accusing you of killing your men.

One hand flicked up, scratching over the hairs of your beard as you nervously picked at the skin of your face. You couldn’t keep yourself still, couldn't even look up at John as the memories flooded over you, pulling you into the rising tide of your psyche. "I didn't know," suddenly you were back in that courtroom and instead of the calmness you had projected so easily there your nerves took over every movement and thought. "I never would have sent them in if I'd known. I swear, I just, I didn't-" your hands pressed into your thighs, squeezing at the muscle underneath as you fought internally with yourself.

But it wasn't until warm, rough palms found the backs of your hands that you began to truly come apart. Your eyes shut tight as the yelping started in your ears, breaths coming in quick and shallow but you couldn't fight it back anymore. The defense against the tidal wave was gone, crumbled beneath that warm touch. A knife plunged into your gut and twisted so painfully you felt like you were going to be sick. The smell of burnt flesh, hair, and fur assaulted your senses so completely you could feel the bile trying to rise at the back of your throat again. Ignore and override, ignore and override, ignore and-

John's hands grasped yours and then pried the fingers off of the flesh you'd been digging into and rested them on his own. "Come here, Love," he whispered and you didn't even realize how close he'd gotten. You'd been looking everywhere but at him. Your hands were shaking as you tried to work them but you couldn't anymore. Everything felt so dead, every limb barely even able to move anymore. The man in front of you seemed to realize it too because he slid his chair even closer, his knees pressed against the inside of your thighs as he wrapped his hands around your back and pulled you forward.

You slid along the length of his thighs until your chest was pressed to his. Warmth permeated your ice cold skin as he held you. But the memories just kept coming, the dam had not only been opened, it was blown apart and crumbling and there was no stopping it anymore. "I was trapped for an hour," you whispered against his shoulder. "I had to listen as they all screamed and begged to be killed," your chest was hurting now, your heart pounding inside like a drum. "I've never heard a dog scream before but Xena…She screamed, John, how does that even-" a sob broke your sentence as finally you regained control of your arms and latched yourself onto him.

Two years you had avoided this. Let it boil and build inside you for you feared the moment it was released. Now that time was here and it was destroying you from the inside out. "I saw her, stumbling through the rubble, and I couldn't even go to her-" Another sob stopped you, your body trying to curl in on itself only stopped by the strong arms wrapped around you. "She was right there. So close to me and crying. It was like she was asking me to stop the pain and I couldn’t even give her that. She was looking at me like she knew it was my fault." The tears you'd been holding back were held back no more. They slid down your face and caught in the fabric of his shirt right where your chin was resting on his shoulder.

A hand reached up to the back of your head, stroking gently at your hair and the nape of your neck before he whispered, "It wasn't your fault, Love. It was never your fault. You made the best decision you could with the options in front of you. That's what every leader does and you did your best," the deep rumbling voice was soothing. But, even his assurances couldn't stop the absolute breakdown you were currently in the middle of.

You just wanted to hide away, seclude yourself and let it all pass like you usually did. Ignore and override. But the man you were currently clinging to for dear life wouldn’t let you do that. Quietly you whispered, "I watched all of them being carried out. Some of them made it out of the building but none of them made it through the ride back. I was under that wall for so long John. It took an hour for them to get there but it took another just to dig me out." Your face turned to face the bare skin of his neck as you rested your cheek on his shoulder.

Blue eyes turned down to look at you, wondering if you were going to keep going or let the rest die on your tongue. Fuck it. "They brought McCann by me on a stretcher. I didn't even recognize him at first. He was so…burnt. He was crying and whispering and the only hand he had left was waving around trying to find something to hold onto." Your fingers dug into the muscle of his back, holding on for dear life and the man didn't even react; he just let you take what you needed. "Then he screamed as they set him down with the others, and he saw me and he just kept muttering my name until he couldn’t anymore. Why can I still hear that? I never should have let them go in, it should have been me. I should have died with them and I didn’t." The sobs wracked your body then, shaking you in the man's arms as you buried your face into his neck.

Everything hurt. Your head, your chest, your stomach they all felt like someone was driving an ice pick into them with a hammer. Your hands were shaking so hard now that they couldn't even hold onto the man. It was like you were suffering through a fever that was burning as hot as the sun itself. "Don’t ever say that. You were meant to be here, and you were meant to live that day. What happened was a tragedy but it wasn’t anything you could have stopped. No one could have.” He paused as his lips pressed against your cheek, “I've got you," he whispered as he shifted in the chair. His beard scratched over your cheek before you felt his lips against your temple pressing a light kiss against it before he whispered again, "I've got you, sweetheart."

Strong hands ran over the expanse of your back, nails scratching light and soothingly through the fabric. And the feel of it, the intimacy of the whole situation, only drove more sobs and a fresh stream of tears from you. Your touch starved body and emotionally repressed mind didn't even know how to process it. There was so much just coursing through you right now it seemed as if it would never go away.

By the time your tear ducts had dried out you were still letting out harsh, shaking sobs against him. Your skull was pounding with the effort but you didn't know how to stop. God, had you ever cried before? Certainly not where anyone else could see. You'd been certain that you had just been born without the ability to do so. Never learning how to express emotions like this, and certainly never seeing your father do the same. If he ever saw you clinging to another man crying like a baby that man probably would have beat you senseless. Not his son.

But it didn’t matter, not right now. You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to. Every limb was dead now, you were a limp body in John’s arms as you felt him shift beneath you again. The light strokes on your back stopped for just a moment, his hands sliding beneath your thighs before you felt him stand. It was vertigo-inducing for just a moment before you pulled yourself closer and locked your legs around his waist. “Please don’t make me go, not yet,” you mumbled into his skin, feeling another sob work its way up at the thought that he was about to make you leave again.

His hands ran over the swell of your ass before his arms wrapped around your back and his hands squeezed into the muscles on your sides. You felt him shake his head against you before he answered, “I’m not making you go. Never going to let you go again.” John turned around and headed towards the door but he stopped before he made it there and when you opened your eyes you heard something behind you before the lights flipped off overhead. Your face lifted for just a moment before one of the hands left your back and moved to run through your hair as he gently pushed your cheek back down with a quiet, “I’ve got you, shh.”

John moved through the room again, before you heard the bed creak beneath you and he laid you down on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His body relaxed on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress like he had done back in your bunkhouse against the wall. It was a comforting pressure in your current state, his mass kept the anxiety at bay. The brit’s strong arms remained wrapped around your back as your own pulled his face down into your neck and shoulder so you could feel the hair of his beard scratch against your cheek.

The pounding of your head made you wince and press further into his shoulder to block out the light coming in through the window. A second later you felt his words rumble against you, “What’s wrong?” When you didn’t answer his arms unwound from around you and he pushed himself up to look down at you, the loss of his weight nearly drew out another sob at the thought he was going to get up. “What’s wrong, Speck?” Leaning on his elbows above you, you felt his hand run against your cheek as he wiped some of the tear tracks off your skin.

His soothing touch seeped into the very marrow of your bones as you leaned into it with a sigh. Finally you managed to mumble out, a strain still in your voice after your breakdown, “Head hurts.” John hummed in response and you felt fingers press into your temple gently. And then his other hand was on the other side, rubbing soothing circles into the thin skin.

Low rumbles came from his chest. They weren’t words, just quiet hums that vibrated through your entire being. It made the tension in your throat release, something for your exhausted mind to focus on that wasn’t the memories still trying to force their way into every thought. Just his presence was relaxing. It wasn’t long until your arms slowly went slack from around his neck, your hands falling to rest against your chest. His fingers lulled you slowly into the dark void of slumber surprisingly easy, especially after the sleepless night from before.

-----(John POV)-----

He’d been fighting off his own emotions the entire time he’d been watching you. The pain you had hidden for so long just rushed out in an overwhelming flood, nearly taking him under with it. His heart hurt seeing you wrecked with those emotions. And the knowledge that you had never let yourself feel it. To be the one to force it out of you hurt him more than he ever thought it would.

Now your deep breaths came evenly instead of the harsh and shaking sobs you’d been letting out a few minutes before. Your pain had become his pain and the reality of that hit him harder than he thought was imaginable. John was no stranger to emotions, he too usually held them back until he could let them out in appropriate company or just alone. But he’d rarely ever felt this, it was beyond just being empathetic towards you.

Suddenly John was very aware that this was not just a passing fancy, or some fleeting feeling of lust, it went deeper than that. And to know that at any moment you could be killed and it would be his fault scared him. Terrified him. But right now that wasn’t what he needed to be focusing on. He had more pressing matters to deal with than his own feelings towards you, even if they were scary enough to make him pause.

For one he had you beneath him, breathing deeply and fast asleep. Finally after eight months he could just enjoy the sight of you being right where you were supposed to be. Like you should have been that morning you’d first disappeared. He did wish it was under better circumstances though. Wished desperately that your eyes weren’t currently red. That your hair wasn’t a complete mess after running your own hands through it so many times. That the dirt on your face wasn’t marred by the salty tears currently staining the shoulder of his shirt.

His eyes dropped to your evenly rising and falling chest. Slowly his forehead lowered to lean against where your heart rested underneath, turning his head to lay his ear against your sternum. Your heart thudded quietly beneath the muscle, flesh, and bone, settling his nerves as it continued to beat strong and even. For now you were ok, peaceful even beneath him after you’d basically cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

John laid there for a few minutes, content to listen to your beating heart and steady breathing. His feelings, his own emotions, could be saved for another day. A day when you weren’t a vulnerable wreck at the hands of your own compressed feelings and your probable-PTSD case. 

He’d figured after reading your file that that had been your problem during the op you had been on. Though he hadn’t thought he would have to see it on full display so soon after reading that AAR. The sight of you breaking because of him and his questions had been disconcerting but no one deserved to have all that pent up and especially not for two years.

It was hard for him to pin you into that corner. To force you into talking to him about it but judging by what you’d said and the way you’d reacted to those memories it was completely necessary. A sigh left him as he pushed himself up slowly, careful not to wake your heavily sleeping form beneath him. He sat himself on the edge of the bed, watching your face for a moment longer before he stood up.

His eyes immediately flicked to the mirror that hung just above the tap, catching sight of the salty stains on the shoulder of his shirt. The fingers of his hand reached up to touch it before he shook his head and quietly crossed the room to the door. He left the bunkhouse, careful not to wake you as he locked the door behind him so no one disturbed your now peaceful slumber. Crossing the path he headed for the bunkhouse you shared with Ghost and pushed inside. The Lieutenant was gone again but he was immediately greeted by the wagging tail of your dog.

“Hey Cerberus,” John muttered to the Dutch Shepherd. You’d left him behind during your rage to find Wade. The man glanced around your side of the room before he saw the lead and grabbed it off the table, clipping it to Cerberus’ collar and saying, “Right, come on then.” He slipped out of your bunkhouse and down the stairs, but he didn’t immediately go back to his bunkhouse.

John wasn’t a dog handler but he knew enough about dogs to know that this one in particular needed to expend some energy before he ended up eating through a wall or something. That was definitely the last thing he needed to hear Ghost complaining about to him. So he took Cerberus around the base with him for a few laps, watching as he tried to adjust his running style from yours to his. He let the dog run off his seemingly boundless energy at the expense of his own aching knees. Christ, how did you do this everyday? This damn dog never slowed the hell down.

By the time he rolled back up to his bunkhouse with the dog he was panting harder than the damned animal beside him. He leaned over, bracing himself on his knees as sweat dripped off his forehead. Cerberus paced beside him like he was still ready to keep going, “Not a chance, kid. Your handler can take you back out tomorrow, you’re just going to have to deal with it today.” He headed up the steps of the bunkhouse and gave a quiet cough before he opened the door and let the dog inside.

Cerberus seemed to stop to inspect the room for a moment before pulling against the lead to move where you had rolled over in the bed to face the wall. Price held tight to the lead though, stopping him from making it across the room. He had to think for a moment in an attempt to remember all the commands he’d heard you say so far before he gave up and just whispered, “Nein.” The Dutch Shepherd stopped pulling and turned to look at him with a tilted head.

John put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Stay quiet or you’re out of here.” Cerberus sat down, watching the Brit for a few more moments before the man finally gave in and led him over to the bed. The second he got within distance his paws were on the side of the bed and Price had to pull him off with another quietly whispered, “Nein.” Again the dog’s head tilted like he didn’t understand before Price whispered, “Sitz.” That was an easy one to remember at least.

Immediately the dog’s butt hit the ground and Price dropped the lead before turning his attention back to your sleeping form. You’d curled up against the wall covering your face with one forearm to block the light from the window. John moved to the end of the bed, lifting one foot at a time as he slid the boots off your feet and set them at the foot of the bed. Cerberus was watching him intently but he ignored the dog as he worked to make you more comfortable.

The pants you’d donned were his next project as he popped the button and slid the zipper down. Hooking his fingers into the waistband he pulled at them gently, his eyes watching your face carefully to make sure he wasn’t about to wake you up by accident. He guessed you were out pretty hard though as he tossed the jeans onto the boots and you never even moved save for when he had to lift your hips up for you.

He elected to leave your shirt on, it would be too hard to get it off of you while you were asleep and he still didn’t want to disturb you. Instead he set himself to arranging your limbs one at a time to pull the sheets of the bed down and lay them over your body. He backed up slowly, eyeing your almost lifeless form before he stripped his own shirt off over his head.

Using the tap he cleaned the sweat off himself as best he could, running his head under the faucet to wet his hair and cool himself off. When he turned back around Cerberus was standing again, two feet up on the bed and about to jump up before John quietly growled out, “Nein!” The Dutch Shepherd turned his head to look back, his wagging tail immediately stopping as he backed off and let out a huff. Since when do dogs give attitude?

Cerberus stared him down for a few moments before sitting back down with a seeming rumble from his chest. John let out a sigh of relief and tossed the towel he’d been using to wash off into the hamper in the corner. Shedding his pants he threw them in as well and made his way across the room to crawl up onto the bed at your back. Cerberus made a move behind him and he saw the dog coming up on his left about to try to get into the bed again.

His hand whipped out grabbing the collar and lead still attached to it, using it to guide Cerberus around his back and to his right at the foot of the bed. Unclipping the lead he threw it over your pants and boots. A whine started to come from the dog at being forcefully moved before John gave him a hard look and whispered, “What did I tell you? One more noise and you’re gone. My room, my rules, kid.” Cerberus huffed again and hopped up to the foot of the bed almost begrudgingly.

A stiff nod of his head and John climbed into the bed behind you, pulling the sheet up around you both and he pressed himself against your back. When you moved he tensed up, eyes widening as he went completely still. But you just rolled over, eyes cracking open for barely even a heartbeat before shutting again. Your face buried into his bare chest, taking in a deep breath before you wrapped your arms around his torso and threw a leg over his hip. The heel of your foot pushing his hips closer to yours.

John waited until you went still again before he slid his arm down underneath your head where it was still nestled into his chest. His other hand pressed into your lower back, pulling you somehow closer. Cerberus walked over his feet at the end of the bed before moving around to your back. He shot a warning glare to the dog but he just kept going until he was near your head and then laid down quietly, his head finding its place on your side just above where John’s arm was wrapped around you. It didn’t take long once everything was settled down for the Brit to fall asleep as well, content to hold you in his arms all night for the first time in eight months, eight bloody months.

[elektrasc]

Hermana Mayor & Hermano Menor (Siempre Te Protegeré | Kate & Charlie) : (Parte 2)

(Advertencia : Esta Es Una Historia No Canónica En Mi Historia De Creepypasta De Wattpad, Y Recuerden Que Este Es Mi Propio Universo Así Que Ciertas Cosas Están Cambiadas, Si Les Gusta La Historia Por Favor Suscríbase A Mi Cuenta Y A Mi Canal De YouTube Que Ahí Hay Enlaces Para Entender Mejor Mi Universo, Es Solo Para Entretener)

(PARA LOS HATERS SI NO TE GUSTA NO VEA)

(Ahora Sí Disfruten La Historia ^^)

(Punto De Vista De Charlie: Era Las 7:00 Me Desperté A Esa Hora Para Ir Al Bosque Y Para No Ver A Carl Y A Lauren, Así Que Me Cambie De Ropa Y Baje Las Escaleras Y Cuando Estaba A Punto De Abrir La Puerta Escuche La Voz De Carl, Pero No Fue Tan Grave Como Pensé Ya Que Pensé Que Lauren Estaba Al Lado De Él Viéndome Con Esa Mirada Fría Y Amenazante Que Me Daba Miedo)

Carl Ross: ¿Charlie…..?, ¿Que Haces Despierto Y En La Puerta?

Charlie Matheson Jr: Nada... Normalmente Me Despierto A Esta Hora Para Corre Un Poco A Fuera.., Y.... ¿Tu Que Haces Despierto?

Carl Ross: Nada, Es Que Normalmente Me Despierto Para Trabajar

Charlie Matheson Jr: Pero Es Domingo

Carl Ross: Si, Ahora Viste Lo Creíble Que Suena, ¿Por Que Quiere Salir?

Charlie Matheson Jr: Porque Si...

Carl Ross: Charlie... Se Que Estas Molesto..., Pero No Puedes Hacer Esto Cuando Algo No Te Gus.....

Charlie Matheson Jr: No Me De Un Sermón Señor Detective Cr

Carl Ross: *Suspira* Char... Pequeño Por Favor.... Solo Habla Conmigo, Vamos A La Cocina *Se Da La Vuelta*

Charlie Matheson Jr: *No Le Da Importancia Y Abre La Puerta*

Carl Ross: *Suspira* Oh No…. No Esta Vez…….. *Agarra A Charlie Y Lo Lleva A La Cocina*

Charlie Matheson Jr: Suéltame

Carl Ross: Está Bien, Siéntate, Hey Si Quieres Te Hago El Desayuno

Charlie Matheson Jr: No Quiero Carl...

Carl Ross: *Suspira* Char Por Favor…. Solo Estoy Tratando De Hacer Las Cosas Bien

Lauren Brown: *Bostezo* Buenos Días Chicos... ¿Hablamos?

Carl Ross: Sí, Pero Mientras Hago El Desayuno, Hey Lauren.. ¿Por Qué No Hay Adina En La Cocina?

Lauren Brown: Porque Yo No Cocino Pido Comida Por Celular, Pero Abajo Hay Un Almacén Donde Guardo Las Cosas Tal Vez Hay Harina Ahí

Charlie Matheson Jr: Katie Cocinaba

Lauren Brown: Pero Yo No Soy Kate.. Charlie

Carl Ross: Bien No Pasa Nada, Voy Abajo *Sale De La Cocina*

Lauren Brown: *Mira A Charlie Fijamente, Y Se Sienta En La Silla A Lado De Charlie*

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Asustado*

Lauren Brown: Yo No Soy Tu Hermana Ni Cr Mocoso De Mierda..., De Qué Mierda… Estaban Hablando Anoche…. ¿Te Crees Que No Te Escuche Hablar Con Carl?, En Especial Cuando Dijiste A Lauren Ni Le Importo *Lo Agarra Del Pelo Y Lo Estampa Contra La Mesa*

Charlie Matheson Jr: Lauren!!!! Ya Basta… Por favor…., Me...

Lauren Brown: Crees Que Me Importa Si ¿Te Lastimo? O ¿No?, Más Te Vale No Decir De Nada Sobre Esto A Carl, Porque Te Juro Que Los Maltratos Si No Van A Ser Peores De Lo Que Te Puedes Imaginar, Eres Tan Inútil.. Y Patético… Al Igual Que Tu Hermana Mayor Kate…. Los Dos Deberían Estar Muertos

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Llorando* Quiero A Katie.... Quiero A Mi Hermanita...

Lauren Brown: *Se Acerca Al Oído De Charlie Y Le Dice* Cállate Y Lárgate A Tu Cuarto Que No Te Soporto

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Se Levanta Y Se Va Corriendo*

MESES DESPUÉS

Carl Ross: Lauren.. ¿Has Tenido Pesadilla Últimamente? O ¿Te Pasaron Cosas Extrañas?

Lauren Brown: No, Pero ¿Porque Lo Dices?

Carl Ross: Porque......, Bueno.. Después De Unas Semanas Cuando Te Dieron La Custodia De Char...., Eh Tenido Pesadilla Con Kate... Y Con... Slenderman......

Lauren Brown: Carl, Los Dos Vimos A Ese "Tal Slenderman", Pero Ya No Estamos En EL Bosque, Él Y Kate, No Nos Van A Encontrar Jamás, Y ¿Sabes El Porque?

Carl Ross: ¿Porque....?

Lauren Brown: Porque, Kate Ya Se Habrá Pegado Un Tiro Con Ese Rifle De Cacería Que Usaba, Ya Se Habrá Matado

Carl Ross: *Se Queda Estupefacto* La.. Lau.. Lauren......, Cómo Vas A Decir Eso De Kate...., Era Nuestra Amiga..

Lauren Brown: Por Favor. ¿Aun La Defiendes?. Carl Era Nuestra Amiga Esta Que Enloqueció. Y Trato De Matarme....

Carl Ross: SI Lo Se... Se Que No Justifica Lo Que Hizo... Pero Tan Poco Hay Que Decir Esa Cosa Tan Horrible Y Seria.......

Lauren Brown: *Suspira* Como Digas. Ya Veo Que Aun Sientes Cosas Asi A Ella. Porque No Eres Como Esos Chicos Que Solo Quieren Sexo Y Nada Más

Carl Ross: *Frunce Un Poco El Ceño* Porque Yo No Soy Un Tarado Mental. Que Se Cree Macho Cuando Realmente Es Un Pedazo De Mierda Que No Se Merece Vivir, Ami No Me Gusta Usar A Las Mujeres

Lauren Brown: ¿Ay Porque?, Tus Padres Eran Felices Juntos

Carl Ross: No Hay Que Tener Una Experiencia Personal Para Respetar A Una Mujer O A Un Hombre, Es Por El Simple Hecho De Que En La Vida Tienes Que Ser Bueno

Lauren Brown: *Trata De No Reírse* Eso Te Lo Enseño La Madre De Kate ¿Verdad?, Ay Carl, Está Bien Como Digas, Voy A Ver A Charlie *Sale De La Sala*

Carl Ross: *Suspira* Dios Mio..., ¿Cuando Se Volvio Asi......?

MIENTRAS TANTO

Slenderman: *Sentado En Su Oficina Viendo La Conversación*

Masky: *Abre La Puerta* ¿Sr. Slender?

Slenderman: *Se Le Corta La Visión* ¿Eh?, Tim Te Dije Que Toques La Puerta Antes De En Tra.

Masky: Perdón Sr. Slender, Ahora Soy Masky No Tim, Pero Tengo Algo Que Decirle

Slenderman: Esta Bien. Espera... ¿Por Qué No Tomaste Las Pastillas?, Hoy Es Un Día Libre Para Todos, *Pensamiento: Excepto Para Los Que Se La Pasaron De Vagos* ¿Y Porque No Las Tomaste?

Masky: Es Que Voy A Investigar, Algo Con Hoodie. Toby Y Cazadora

Slenderman: Oh Bien, ¿Y Que Era Lo Que Me Querías Decir?

Masky: Quería Decir Que Iríamos A La Granja Matheson

Slenderman: Prohibido, No Irán A Esa Granja Maldita

Masky: Se Porque No Quiere Que Vayamos, Pero Podemos Defendernos En Contra De Ella

Slenderman: No Es Porque No Se Pueden Defender De Scarecrow Girl, Es Porque Ella Es Una De Las Tantas Siervas Y Siervos Que Tienes Zalgo, La Granja Matheson Es Un Lugar Maldito Gracias A Aquellas Brujerías Que Hicieron Los Familiares De Kate Y Charlie

Hoodie: No Entiendo, Entonces Por Qué Kate Es Una Proxy, Si Es Hija De Charles Matheson Y Bethany Hayes Milens

Slenderman: Por El Simple Hecho De Que Kate Y Charlie No Tienen La Culpa De Que Su Familia Sea Asi, Ellos No Eligieron Esos Actos Sino Sus Padres, Bueno Su Madre Solo Lo Hizo Para Encajar En La Familia De Su Esposo, Aunque Cuando Se Dio Cuenta De Lo Terrible Que Era Esos Actos Y Del Peligro Que Corría Kate Y Charlie Dejó Todo Eso

Hoodie: O Sea Que La Madre De Kate Es Una Ex Bruja Que Se Dio Cuenta De Que Eso Estaba Mal Y Aceptó A Cristo En Su Corazón Y En Su Vida, Mientras Que Su Esposo Le Pone Los Cuernos Con La Madre De Charlie A Causa De Que Dejó La Brujerías, Por Favor Sr. Slender…, No Me Haga Reír *Burlándose Un Poco*

Slenderman: Señorito Brian Thomas, No Se Ría De La Desgracia De Los Demás, Porque También Se Pueden Reír De La Suya

Hoodie: Jajaja, Como Si Me Importara De Que Yo Tuviera Un Padre Abandónico *Se Da La Vuelta*

The Chaser: ¡¡Eres Un Idiota!!! *Le Da Una Cachetada*

Hoodie: Kate.., ¡¡Pero Qué Te Pasa!!!

Slenderman: No Se Queje, señorito Thomas, Eso Se Lo Merecía

Masky: Te Estaba Zarpando

The Chaser: ¿Cómo Te Puedes Reír De La Desgracia De Los Demás….?

Hoodie: Ay.. Por Favor ''Cazadora'' Ni Que Fuera Grave Que Pasen Esas Cosas

The Chaser: ¿Ni Que Fuera Grave….?, ¡¡Claro Que Es Grave Crecer En Una Familia Que Está Incompleta!!!, Es Feo Crecer Sin El Amor De Un Padre O De Una Madre, Tú Mejor Que Nadie Deberías Saberlo, Pero Tú.. Te Reírte De Tu Propia Desgracias…, Y No Sólo Tu Desgracia.. Sino La Desgracia De Tu Madre.....

Hoodie: ¿Cómo Sabes Mi Pasado.?

Slenderman: A Veces Hablas Del Tema Con Tim Y Toby Adelante De Ella, Es Obvio Que Sabe Tu Pasado

Adeline Abendroth: ¿Van A Ir A La Granja Matheson?

Slenderman: No Irán, Ally Y Tu Menos Puedes Ir Es Peligroso, Bien Que Tienes Mis Poderes, Pero Eres Una Niña…., Y Tu Sabes Lo Que Zalgo Busca

Adeline Abendroth: Solo Preguntaba.. No Era Que Quería Ir

Masky: Pero Algún Día Tendremos Que Recuperar Ese Lugar No Es De Ellos

Slenderman: Lo Sé. Pero Aún No Tenemos Lo Necesario Para Que Zalgo Deje Ese Lugar

The Chaser: ¿Y Cómo Es Que No Pudo Tomar La Zona De Mi Casa?

Slenderman: Uno Porque Tu Familia Nunca Hizo Brujería Ahí Y Segundo Porque Yo Llegué Primero, La Zona De Tu Casa Fue Mi Tercer Lugar Seguro Antes De Que Tu Familia Llegaran

The Chaser: ¿Y Por Qué No Me Deja Vivir Ahí?

Slenderman: Porque Estaría Sola, Y Cr.. Carl Sigue Visitando El Lugar Para Sus Investigaciones

The Chaser: Sigue Yendo….. ¿Aún Se Sigue Haciendo El Detective?, No Hay Nada Que Investigar Ahí...... El No Es Bienvenido…

Slenderman: Lo Sé. Pero Tampoco Quiero Atacarlo. Creo Que Nos Podría Servir Como Uno De Nosotros

The Chaser: ¿Un Proxy...?, Ya Tenemos A Cat Y A Masky. Ellos Sí Que Saben Hacer Las Cosas.., Hasta Que El No Reconozca Las Cosas Horribles Que Hizo…. Yo No Quiero Nada De Él Y No Quiero Saber Nada De Él......, Primero Que Me Regrese A Charlie... Y Lo Perdonó...

Slenderman: Está Bien, Igual Sobre Charlie Tenemos Que Hablar.. Así Que… Chicos Pueden Retirarse Quiero Hablar A Solas Con Kate

Masky: Está Bien Sr. Slender, Ally Vamos

Adeline Abendroth: Bien...

Hoodie: Bueno Igual Me Estaba Aburriendo

Adeline Abendroth: *Le Tironea la Sudadera A Brian* Callate Brian Y Vámonos, Estoy Decepcionada De Ti

Hoodie: Pero.. ¿Que?

Slenderman: Bien No Te Quería Decir Pero Ya Esta Llegando Demasiado Lejos

The Chaser: Como Que Demasiado Lejos....

Slenderman: Lauren Se Está Pasando Con Charlie.. Le Pega Demasiado.. Ya Ni Le Pega Lo Maltrata Mejor Dicho

The Chaser: ............., Los Voy A Matar A Los Dos… Sabía Que Ni Siquiera Quería A Charlie.. ¡¡¡Solo Me Quitó La Custodia Para Verme Sufrir Y El Idiota De CR Que Le Ayudó En El Juicio!!!!, ¡¡¡Los Odio A Los Dos Y Los Voy A Matar A Los Dos Por HIJOS DE PUTAS!!!!

HORAS DESPUÉS EN EL BOSQUE

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Caminando Por El Bosque* Estoy Cansado De Que Lauren Siempre Me Pegue, Esta Vez Voy A Buscar Adeline Para Que Me Lleve Con Slender.... Si Ella Y Mi Hermana Son Proxys Deben Estar Con Slender

Chris Venganza: MIra Mira Si Es Otra Vez El Matheson, ¿Como Llegaste Tan Lejos?, Este No Es El Bosque De Al Lado De Tu Casa, ¿Cómo Llegaste? Y ¿Que Mierda Tramas?

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Lo Ignora, Se Figas A Sus Alrededor Para Buscar Algo Para Defenderse*

Chris Venganza: ¡¡¡¡¡Respondeme Mocoso!!!!!!!!

Charlie Matheson Jr: ¿Si Te Digo Me Dejaras De Molestar..?

Chris Venganza: *Esconde Su Cuchillo* Aah Esta Bien.. Si

Charlie Matheson Jr: Le Robe La Tarjeta De Crédito A Lauren Para Viajar Hasta Acá

Chris Venganza: .........., Oh Qué Lástima Que Viajaste Tan Lejos Para Nada.. Lárgate A Tu Casa!!, Aquí No Eres Bienvenido Por Slender

Charlie Matheson Jr: Tú No Eres Del Clan The Proxys Eres Del Clan The Killers, No Puedes Recibir Órdenes De Slender Sino De Jeff O Jack, No Puedes Echarme

Chris Venganza: Yo No Recibo Órdenes De Nadie, Te Vasa A Ir Porque Yo Lo Digo

Charlie Matheson Jr: Yo No Le Hago Caso A Los Mocosos Desobedientes Como Tú.

Chris Venganza: *Saca Su Cuchillo* ¡¡¡¡Ya Cagaste Mocoso!!!! !!!Comienza A Correr Si Quieres Vivir!!!!

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Comienza A Correr Hacia La Casa De Kate*

(Narradora: Y Así Comenzó Una Persecución Por Todo El Bosque, Pero La Diferencia Es Que Charlie Tenía La Ventaja Ya Que Se Conocía El Bosque De Memoria Y Corria Mas Rapido Que Cris Así Que Fue Fácil Perder De Vista A Cris, Pero Después De Cris Tendría Otro Problema)

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Deja De Corre, Agitado* Bien Ya E Llegado Solo Tengo Que Seguir El Camino Hasta Llegar A La Casa De Mi Hermana....., Me Pregunto Si Aun Vive Ahi.... *Escucha Un Ruido* ¿Eh? No Me Digas Que Es Chris De Nuevo...

Adeline Abendroth: *Sale Entre Los Arbustos, Ve A Charlie Al Otro Lado* ¿Eh?

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Sorprendido* ¿Ally?

Adeline Abendroth: *Sorprendida, Corriendo Hacia El* ¿Charlie?, ¿Cómo Llegaste Aquí?

Charlie Matheson Jr: Le Robe La Tarjeta De Crédito A Lauren Para Viajar *La Abraza* Estoy Muy Feliz De Ver...., No Sabes Cris Casi Me Mata… Pero Logré Perderlo De Vista…, ¿Oye Cómo Te Sabes?, ………., ¿Cómo Llegaste Hasta Aquí…?

Adeline Abendroth: Bueno Tu Hermana Me Mostró Una Foto De La Casa Donde Vivian Tu. Ella Y Su Madre, Y Reconocí El Lugar Porque A Veces Vengo Por Aquí Con Mi Padre

Charlie Matheson Jr: Espera… ¿Todo Este Tiempo Estuviste Con Kate Y No Me Llevaste Con Ella…?

Adeline Abendroth: Claro Que Quería Llevarte… Con Kate…. Pero Tenía Miedo De Que Te Hagan Daño….. Y Hoy No Te Vi Por El Bosque.. Y Me Asusté Cuando Revise La Casa Y Tu Cuarto Y No Te Contraba....

Charlie Matheson Jr: ¿Pero…. Qué Hacías Entonces.. Buscándome En Este Bosque…..?, …………., ¿Era Tu Última Opción…?

Adeline Abendroth: Si... Porque Carl Viene Aqui Y Pense Que Te Habia Traido........

Charlie Matheson Jr: ..................., Bien... Esta Bien..., Gracias Por Preocuparte....., Y.. ¿Cómo Es Eso De Que Carl Aún Viene Aquí?

Adeline Abendroth: No Sé.. Solo Ronda Por El Bosque Un Rato Y Busca Cosas.. Y Digamos Que La Casa Tuya Y De Kate Se Convirtió Como Una Zona De Investigación Profesional Para El.. Un Lugar Seguro..

Charlie Matheson Jr: ¿En Lugar Seguro?, Kate Se Llega A Enterar Que El Va Ahí Aún Y Lo Mata...

Adeline Abendroth: Y Se Enteró Y Lo Va A Matar Si Lo Llega A Ver, Mi Padre Hoy Le Dijo Sobre Eso… Y Digamos Que Su Cara No Representaba Felicidad…. Más Bien Ida Enojo Y Querer Venganza Contra Él Y Lauren…..

Charlie Matheson Jr: Oh...., *Vease El Cielo* Está Anocheciendo Y Hace Frío *La Toma De La Mano* ¿Te Molesta?

Adeline Abendroth: Somos Amigos No Me Molesta

Charlie Matheson Jr: Bien.. Vamos A Mi Casa

MIENTRAS TANTO

Carl Ross: ¡¡Como Que Charlie No Está Contigo!! *Sosteniendo El Celular*

Lauren Brown: ¡¡No lo sé!!!, No Está.. Lo Busqué Por Todos Lados Y No Lo Encuentro…. *Llorando*

Carl Ross: Maldita Sea...., Ya Buscaste En Los Lugares Donde Él Juega.

Lauren Brown: *Nerviosa* ¡¡¡¡Sí!!!!, ¡¡¡Te Juro Que Ya Buscamos Por Todo El Bosque Con Los Vecinos Y Ni Aparece!!!, No Sé.. Qué Hacer…, Por Favor Haz Algo.. Carl… *Llorando*

Carl Ross: ¿Llamaron A La Policía?

Lauren Brown: No..., No Quiero Que Nos Quiten La Custodia…

Carl Ross: *Nervioso* ....., Cálmate Lauren.., Dime.. ¿Dónde Lo Viste Por Ultimates Vez? Y ¿Hay Algo Raro Que Falte En Su Cuarto...?

Lauren Brown: Bueno..., En Su Cuarto Falta Su Ropa Sus Cuadernos Su Mochila.., Pero… Hay Algo Raro…. Que También Falta Que Es Mi Billetera No Está...

Carl Ross: *Pensando* Okay… No Está Su Ropa Sus Cuadernos Su Mochila Y Tu Billetera…., ¿Le Dijiste Algo? O ¿Te Dijo Algo Raro?

Lauren Brown: Bueno.. Hoy Me Dijo Algo Sobre Kate.. Que Quería Estar Con Ella... *Pensando* ......................., *Pensamiento: Maldito Mocoso… Ya Me Di Cuenta.. Fue Al Otro Bosque A La Casa De Kate….*

Carl Ross: *Pensando* No Te Preocupes Ya Sé A Dónde Habrá Ido

Lauren Brown: Fue A La Casa De Kate..

Carl Ross: Exacto, Ahí Es El Único Lugar Donde Pudo Haber Ido Con La Tarjeta De Crédito, Te Cuelgo Te Diré Si Lo Encuentro…. Por Allá Dime Si Es Que Vuelve A Casa… *Cuelga La Llamada*

Lauren Brown: *Guarda El Celular* Yo También Iré Para Allá….., Maldito Mocoso De Mierda, Lo Voy A Matar Cuando Lo Encuentre

UNA HORA DESPUÉS

Adeline Abendroth: Pues por Lo Que Veo Katie Te Tenia Muy Bien

Charlie Matheson Jr: Si, Yo Era Feliz, Todo Fue Culpa De Mi Padre Para Ver A Mi Madre Biológica Que Ni Siquiera Me Quería…., Y Claro Después De Mi Desaparición Cuando Vieron En El Estado Que Estaba Kate… Y Lo Que Había Pasado.. Menos Me Dejaron Estar Con Mi Hermana Katie...

Adeline Abendroth: *Se Siente Triste Por Charlie* A Mí También.. Me Alejaron De Mi Hermano… Fue Horrible……, Lo Recuerdo Como Si Hubiese Pasado Ayer…. Está Claro En Mi Memoria…..

Charlie Matheson Jr: Mmm... *Escucha El Ruido De La Puerta* ¿Ally Escuchaste Eso....?

Adeline Abendroth: Si..., Para Mi Es Carl... Obviamente Te Escapaste Y Te Está Buscando…

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Se Enoja* Ally ¿Puedes Esperar Afuera De Mi Ventana En El Patio?, Tengo Que Decirle Algunas Cosas

Adeline Abendroth: No Hagas Lo Mismo Que Hizo Kate Que Se Tiró Por La Ventana.. Hay Otra Forma

Charlie Matheson Jr: Te Prometo Que Abrí De La Ventana Antes De Saltar

Carl Ross: ¡¡Charlie!! ¿Estás Aquí? *Pensamiento: Dios Mío Si Le Pasa Algo No Me lo Perdonaré Nunca....*

Charlie Matheson Jr: ¡¡Sí Aquí Estoy!! *Mira Fijamente A Cr*

Carl Ross: *Mira Hacia Las Escaleras* Chars.... Te Pudo Haber Pasado Algo… Por Favor Vamos A Casa… Lauren Está Preocupada….

Charlie Matheson Jr: ¿Preocupada?, ¡¡¡Esa Ni Ella Misma Se La Cree!!!!!

Carl Ross: ¡¡Charlie Matheson Jr Compórtate Ya De Una Vez Jovencito!!, ¡¡Lauren Me Llamó Llorando!!, ¡¡Acaso!!, ........, Acaso... ¿No Ves El Daño Que Nos Haces....?, Sé Que Extrañas A Kate…., Pero Ella No Está Para Criarte Ni Para Cuidarte…., Y Sí… Yo También Soy Un Maldito Loco Por Lo Que Trate De Hacer… Cometí Errores….. Y Lo Siento…. Nunca Quise Que Esto Pase…. Pero Pasó… Y No Hay Nada Que Pueda Hacer Al Respecto…., Ni Yo Sé Dónde Está Kate…, Pero Ya Es Hora De Que Pares….

Charlie Matheson Jr: ¡¡Un Lo Siento No Arregla Nada!!!!, ¡¡No Repara Nada De Lo Que Pasó!!. Es Más Ni Siquiera Repara El Presente!!!!, ¡¡¡¡¡Cuando Tú Rompes Un Plato Así Se Queda Roto Y Aunque Le Pidas Perdón No Va A Volver A Ser El Mismo De Antes!!!!!!!, ¡¡¡¡¡¡Y En Serio Eres Tan Idiota Para No Darte cuenta Que A Lauren Ni Le Importó!!!!!!!

Carl Ross: ¡¡Ya Sé Que No Repara Nada Un Lo Siento!!, Pero Trato De Hacer Mejor El Futuro… Aprendiendo De Mis Errores.., Charlie Por Favor... Se Que Parece Que A Lauren No Le Importas... Pero Está Tratando De Hacer Lo Mejor Que Puede... Sé Que Nunca Va A Reemplazar A Kate.. Pero Intenta Hacerte Igual De Feliz Como Katie Lo Hizo..

Charlie Matheson Jr: Realmente.. No Ves Nada… Ni Sabes Nada… De Lo Que Me Hace Cuando Tú No Estás…, ¡¡Se Nota Que Te Crees Lo Primero Que Ella Te Dice!!! *Se Va Molesto A Su Cuarto*

Carl Ross: ¡¡Charlie Ven Aqui Y Dime Lo Que Te Hace!! *Va Hacia Las Escaleras*

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Abre La Ventana*

Carl Ross: *Sube Las Escaleras Y Va Al Cuarto De Charlie* Charlie Que... *Ve Que Está En La Ventana* ¡¡¡¡¡¡CHARLIE!!!!! ¡¡¡NO!!!

Charlie Matheson Jr: Adiós Detectives Cr *Se Tira Por La Ventana*

Carl Ross: *Trata De Atraparlo* ¡¡¡¡¡CHARLIEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

Slender Doll: *Atrapa A Charlie Con Sus Tentáculos* Te Tengo *Lo Deja En El Suelo*

Charlie Matheson Jr: Gracias Ally

Carl Ross: *Ve Por La Ventana* .........., Pero...... Que....

Slender Doll: *Ve A Cr Viendolos*

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Lo Nota Y Toma Ally De La Mano Y Se Va Corriendo Con Ella*

Carl Ross: *Confundido* Pero... *Se Da Una Cachetada Para Salir Del Trance* ¡¡¡Ya Cálmate Carl Tienes Que Proteger A Charlie!!! *Sale Del Cuarto Y Va Corriendo Hacia Abajo Por Las Escaleras*

Slender Doll: ¿A Dónde Vamos?

Charlie Matheson Jr: Hacia Las Mina, ¿Puedes Teletransportarnos? Y ¿Sabes dónde quedan?

Slender Doll: Sí Sé Dónde Queda Y Puedo Teletransportarnos, Pero Solo A Mitad De Camino

Charlie Matheson Jr: Bien Perfecto… Por Favor Hazlo..

Slender Doll: Bien

Carl Ross: Charlie Para, ¡¡No Puedes Ir Para Allá!! ¡¡¡Es Peligroso!!!

Charlie Matheson Jr: *Ve A Cr* ¡¡No Me Importa!! Y ¡¡¡Déjame Solo!!!

Slender Doll: *Se Teletransporta Hacia Las Minas*

UNA HORA DESPUÉS

Slenderman: Chicos ¿Saben Dónde Está Ally? Estoy Un Poco Nervioso Porque Busqué Por Todas Las Habitaciones Y No Está

Masky: No, Los Únicos Que Están Aquí Con Nosotros Son Sally Sam Y Ben

Cat Hunter: *Entra Al Living* Sr. Slender, Ya Busque Por Toda La Mansión Y No Está En Ninguna De Las Habitaciones Y Lo Demás Proxys Tampoco No La Encontraron

Hoodie: Yo Y Kate Acabamos De Buscar También Y No Está Ni Siquiera En Los Sótanos

Slenderman: *Nervioso* Dios Mio...

Ticci Toby: Sr. Slender.. Cálmese Por Favor… No La Habrá Mandado Alguna Misión.... ¿Verdad?

Slenderman: No.. Toby…. Tú Sabes Que Ella Siempre Va Acompañada…… Y Están Todos Los Proxys Aquí…

Ticci Toby: Y..... La Señora Slenderwoman.. Ally Es Muy Unida A Ella Pudieron Haber Ido Juntas

Slenderman: No, Woman Se Fue Temprano A La 6:00 Y Ally Estuvo Todo El Día Con Nosotros

The Chaser: Yo... Creo Saber Dónde Está....

Slenderman: ¿Dónde Está Kate...?

The Chaser: En Mi Casa

Cat Hunter: ¿Cómo Que En Tu Casa?, Kate Ni Siquiera Nosotros Vamos

The Chaser: Ya Lo Sé, Pero Hoy Estábamos Hablando Sobre Mi Casa Y Sobre La Granja Familiar Matheson Y Ella Escuchó Todo

Slenderman: Chicos Prepárense Vamos A Ir A La Granja, Rodrigo Tu Estas A Cargo

Cat Hunter: Si

Masky: Rodrigo Espera Voy Conmigo

Hoodie: Yo Igual

The Chaser: Pero Hoy Me Preguntó Cómo Era Mi Casa Y Yo Le Mostré Una Foto Por Eso Digo Que Puede Estar Ahí

Slenderman: ...............

Ticci Toby: Katie.. ¿Pero Por Qué?

The Chaser: Lo.. Siento…… No Sabía Que Iba Hacer Eso…. Ella Nunca Hizo Algo Así……. I Que Pensé Que No Iba A Pasar Nada…

Slenderman: Está Bien…. Ahora Lo Importante Es Encontrarla…. Kate Toby Vayan Con Los Demás…..

UNA HORAS DESPUÉS

Lauren Brown: *Baja Del Auto* Al Fin Llegué A Este Maldito Lugar..., Mocoso De Mierdad Lo Voy A Matar Si Es Que Lo Encuentro *Entra A La Casa*

Hoodie: Pensé Que Es Slender Me Iba A Poner Con Masky

The Chaser: Y Yo Pensé Que Me Iba A Poner Con Toby

Hoodie: Bueno.. Qué Linda Casa Que Tienes

The Chaser: *Levanta La Mirada Y Ve Un Auto, Instintivamente Se Llena De Rabia Al Verlo*

Hoodie: *Nota Esa Mirada Que Tiene Cuando Su Instinto Animal Se Apodera De Ella* Oky.... Mejor Me Quedo... Aquí Viendo....

The Chaser: *Se Acerca Al Auto, Y Rompe Una De Las Ventanas Para Abrir La Puerta*

Hoodie: *Se Acerca Solo Para Ver Que Va Hacer Kate*

The Chaser: *Agarra La Billetera Que Está Ahí Y Al Ver El Documento Se Llena De Rabia* Lauren.......

Hoodie: Kate Va A Matarla ¿Verdad?

The Chaser: *Suelta Un Gruñido* ¿Y Tú.. Qué Crees….?

Hoodie: Que Sí

The Chaser: Quédate Aquí...... *Se Dirige Hacia Su Casa*

Lauren Brown: *Oye Que Entran A La Casa* ¿Carl?, Seguro Es El Con Ese Mocoso

The Chaser: *Sube Las Escalera, Gruñido*

Lauren Brown: ¿Carl Eres Tú? *Sale Del Cuarto De Kate, Pero Se Esconde Al Ver A Kate En Las Escaleras* Pero Qué Carajos…. ¿Qué Hace Ella Aquí......?

The Chaser: ¡¡Malditas Zorra!!!, ¡¡¡Sal Detrás De La Puerta Ya Te Vi!!!!!

Lauren Brown: *Sale Del Cuarto De Kate* Hola Katie.... ¿Como Te Va Con Demencia Después De Tanto Tiempo?

The Chaser: ¡¡¡Cállate Hija De Puta!!!!, ¡¡¡¡¡Y No Me Digas Katie Como Si Fuéramos Mejores Amigas!!!!!!!

Lauren Brown: Ay.. Pero Sí Lo Somos….., ¿O La Demencia No Te Deja Acordarte? *Burlándose*

The Chaser: *Gruñe* ¿¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡Qué Haces Aquí!!!!!!!!?, ¿¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡Dónde Está Mi Charlie!!!!!!!!?

Lauren Brown: Ah.. Ya Dejémonos De Burlas Que Me Aburro, No Está Querida... Lo Estoy Buscando

The Chaser: *Pensamiento: ¿¡¡¡Ah Y De Las Pijas Que Tragas No Te Aburre!!!?* ¿¡¡Para Qué!!?, ¿¡¡¡Para Pegarle!!!?, ¡¡¡¡No Te Creas Que Yo No Sé Lo Que Le Haces!!!!!!!!

Lauren Brown: Sí Para Matarlo…, ¿Y Cómo Sabías Eso? ¿Te Lo Dijo Ese Slenderman?, JAJAJA ¡¡¡¡¡Eres Una Estúpida De Mierda Por Eso Te Gané En El Juicio!!!!!!

The Chaser: *Gruñe Va Corriendo Hacia Lauren A Toda Velocidad Y Se Abalanza Encima De Ella*

Hoodie: *Entra A La Casa Con La Cámara Encendida* Esto Va A Ser Una Pelea De Perras. Y Apuesto Que Gana La Mía.

The Chaser: *Comienza A Pegarle Puñetazos Repetidas Veces*

Lauren Brown: *Trata De Esquivar Los Golpes Pero No Puede* ¡¡¡Maldita Perra Enmascarada!!!!

The Chaser: *Golpe* ¡¡¡¡Esto Es Por Quitarme La Custodia De Mi Hermano!!!!! *Golpe* ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡Esto Es Por Fingir Ser Mi Amiga Desde El Día Que Nos Conocimos!!!!!!!! *Golpe* Y Esto Es Por Todas Las Veces Que Le Pegaste A Charlie Probablemente *Con Más Fuerza Y Rabia Comienza A Pegarle Puñetazos Una Y Otra Vez Sin Control*

Lauren Brown: *Comienza A Sangrarle La Nariz*

The Chaser: ¡¡¡¡¡HIJA DE PUTA OJALA NUNCA TE HUBIESE CONOCIDO!!!!!!!!!

Lauren Brown: *En El Piso Ve Un Libro Y Cuando Kate Le Estaba Por Meterle Otro Puñetazo, Ella Lo Agarra Y Le Da En La Cabeza Con Todas Su Fuerzas* ¡¡¡¡¡AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! ¡¡¡¡¡¡YA DEJAME DE PEGAR HIJA DE REMIL PUTA!!!!!!!!!!!

The Chaser: *Se Aparta Por El Impacto, Aturdida*

Lauren Brown: *Le Da Un Golpe En El Estómago, Le Arranca La Máscara Y La Tira Contra La Pared* ¡¡¡MALDITA PERRA PUTA!!!!

The Chaser: *Le Escupe En La Cara*

Lauren Brown: ¡¡¡AH!!! ¡¡¡Maldita Asquerosa!!!! *Se Limpia El Escupitajo*

The Chaser: *Aprovecha Y Le Pega Una Patada En El Pie*

Lauren Brown: ¡¡¡AH!!! *Cae Al Piso*

Hoodie: ¡¡Kate!! *Le Lanza La Vara De Metal De Él*

Lauren Brown: ¿¡¡EH!!? *Trata De Tomarla*

The Chaser: *Pero Kate Fue Mas Rapida, Y Le Da En La Cabeza Con La Vara*

Lauren Brown: *Se Desmaya*

The Chaser: *Agitada* Gracias.....

Hoodie: No Hay De Que, Creo Que Necesitabas Un Poco De Ayuda

The Chaser: Jeje Me Las Iba Arreglar Sola

Hoodie: Sí Sí Como Digas. Ven Aquí Baby *La Ayuda A Levantarse*

The Chaser: No Me Digas Baby… Solo Somos Mejores Amigos…..

Hoodie: Jaja ¿Y Te Parece Amigos Con Derechos? *Junta La Máscara De Kate Del Piso*

The Chaser: ¿Que Es Un Amigo Con Derechos.....? *Lo Mira Confundida*

Hoodie: Ehhh Nada... Lo Mismo Que Mejores Amigos.... Pero Con Más Ventaja......, Y ¿En Serio Me Veías Como Un Mejor Amigo?

The Chaser: Oh..., Si Para Mi Eres Mi Mejor Amigo... A Pesar Que Nos Peleemos *Le Sonríe*

Hoodie: ¿Y Qué Vamos A Hacer Con Lauren?

The Chaser: No Sé, ¿Atarla Y Llevarnosla En El Auto?

Hoodie: Mmm... Me Parece Una Buena Idea

(Narradora: Y Metieron A Lauren En El Auto Junto Con Ellos, Después Kate Revisó El Celular De Lauren, Descubriendo Llamadas Perdidas De Cr Y Un Mensaje, Que Decía: Encontré A Charlie… Pero Se Me Escapó Hacia Las Minas Junto Con Algo Que Creo Que Es Una Niña, Kate Le Dijo A Brian Que Conduzca Hacia Las Minas)

(CONTINUARÁ)

[watching-pictures-move]

Dawn of the Dead… in 3D!

This has been one of my favourite movies since I was sixteen years old, and formative in my love of the horror genre, so it was very nice to be able to see it with @thedrillerkiller on the big screen, and in 3D. That’s 1.5 times as much movie, if you do the math. So obviously I had a good time. I won’t have any great new insights about a movie I’ve seen a billion times and that much smarter people than myself have discussed to death, so let me rattle off a few thoughts about the 3D conversion.

I used to be a purist for this stuff, but I think this is a really interesting choice for the format. A lot of the movie has characters looking down the barrels of their guns either towards or away from the camera, so this visual strategy lends itself pretty naturally to the depth offered by the format. Think of the part where H. Scott Reiniger kicks and shoots a zombie, or when Ken Foree looks through the scope of a rifle in the gun shop.

So as a result the gore pops as well, as Romero often frames it for obvious emphasis or will sometimes have viscera pop out at the camera. At least one headshot results in a zombie’s brains erupting towards the viewer. If someone near the front had tossed their ketchup-covered fries behind them, this could have been a 4D viewing, but luckily this was not the case.

But there are moments when the 3D accentuates other effects, varied in tone. There’s montage of the trophy heads in the gun shop or the different products on sale though out the mall, Romero’s satirical jabs getting just a little more punch from the extra dimension. Or, in contrast, the scene where Foree comforts a deteriorating Reiniger from the other room, the 3D almost adding a visual echo to the shot where Foree is framed through a doorway. It feels just a little more poignant.

And while one of the complaints about 3D conversions has been their dimness, I think the extra pop of the candy coloured blood against the extra brown, Carter-era sheen works really well. Has any movie used the period’s visual drabness to such deadening effect? This truly is a zombie epic for the Malaise era.

And speaking as someone who had a huge crush on Gaylen Ross when I first saw this as a teenager, I was not immune to the power of her performance on the big screen with the extra dimension.

And as for the movie, I think Ebert put it best:

“If you can see beyond the immediate impact of Romero's imagery, if you can experience the film as being more than just its violent extremes, a most unsettling thought may occur to you: The zombies in ‘Dawn of the Dead’ are not the ones who are depraved. They are only acting according to their natures, and, gore dripping from their jaws, are blameless.

“The depravity is in the healthy survivors, and the true immorality comes as two bands of human survivors fight each other for the shopping center: Now look who's fighting over the bones! But ‘Dawn’ is even more complicated than that, because the survivors have courage, too, and a certain nobility at times, and a sense of humor, and loneliness and dread, and are not altogether unlike ourselves. A-ha.”

Listen, you can whine about some of the times he’s been wrong or whatever, but when he’s right, he’s right.