#and would kill medical personnel all the time. in fact they targeted them SO much they couldn't wear any identification in the field | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shadyteacup · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Im the one req 7 for chuuya sorry i didint specified, i just realized it. Can i get angst prompt 7 for chuuya?

Hiya! This pained me to write, so I made it fluffy at the end... sorry if u were looking for pure angst! I can't go to sleep peacefully peacefully after writing angst, I need to clutch my soft toys and cry myself to sleep..

Warnings: Angst to fluff, maybe a swear word at the end.. dw, it's just "bish", but like the actual word.

Word count: 2006 😳yes, I got carried away

Nakahara Chuuya + “Please wake up”

Forewarning

“Don’t move, Chu.”

You grumbled against his chest. It was yet another lazy morning for the two of you. Lazy mornings consisted of waking up late, cuddling on the bed till lunch time, getting dressed and having dinner at some exotic place, going for a long drive, then coming back home. It was a perfect day for a traditional lazy day, except for the fact it was a weekday.

Chuuya sighed. He had to get to work, and so did you. You both couldn’t afford to miss any workdays, considering that you both worked for the same organization, one that didn’t hesitate to punish for untimely work. Chuuya was an executive, and so were you. You both had multiple solo missions planned out for today and one mission wherein you both had to team up. It was going to be quite a busy day, and Chuuya wanted nothing more than to just get it all over with. He was looking forward to some lazy cuddles in the evening, after both of your jobs were done.

“We have to get dressed, dove.”

He tried reasoning with you. You were a workaholic, just like him. It surprised him to see this lazy side of you. But then again, you must be tired, he thought.

“I know. But let’s bunk today!”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping to convince him.

Chuckling, he pet your head affectionately.

“The mafia isn’t some school that you could just bunk. Besides, don’t you love working?”

You frowned at that. You were feeling weird today. It’s like something was forewarning you. But about what?

“I just have a bad feeling about today. I don’t know why, but I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

He sighed. He was never one to believe I such things. That was why you weren’t telling him until now.

“We work in the mafia. How worse can it get?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

You smiled, getting up to get ready.

....

“The target is in the warehouse.”

Chuuya said to you. You both were currently seated in Chuuya’ s car, parked on a hill. Your stakeout point had a clear view of an abandoned warehouse. Apparently, it was the location where a rival gang was coordinating with some members of the mafia and stealing their goods. You both had already executed the moles and had sent in one of your trusted members as a pretend mole. He would send you both a signal when he felt that the security was the weakest at the entrance. You both would then attack. He was supposed to cause a commotion in there, resulting in majority of the guards to rush inside and leave the entrance wide open for you two. Your men had already sealed all exits to ensure no one got out. Now you were both waiting for the signal.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Chuuya pouted at your jab.

“I was just being thorough!”

“By stating the obvious?”

“You’re so mean.”

“Says the angry redhead.”

“What has my hair got to do with anything?!”

“Your hair has got to do with everything! I-”

A sharp sound was heard. Both you and Chuuya were blinded for a second as white filled your vision. You felt your torso pinch a little. It almost felt like someone was sticking a few needles into your tummy. You heard screams. They sounded frantic. A few moments later, your vision cleared, and you saw yourself floating in the air, a frantic Chuuya saying something to you. It all sounded mangled and mixed up. If you could have laughed at the moment, you would have laughed at how funny he sounded.

The screams had turned to cries, now. You were so confused. Who was crying? And why was Chuuya pressing down on your stomach?

Looking down, you saw the blood. There was blood everywhere. It had completely soaked your shirt. Chuuya was using his ability and his hands to keep it in. He seemed hurried. His eyes were watery, and streams of tears were flowing down his cheeks.

Finally understanding the situation, you realised that you were injured. Looking down at your torso, you saw the two bullet wounds. And now, you finally felt them. The pain was overwhelming. It rushed in like water at the breaking of a dam. It completely filled you up. You now realised that those cries of pain were actually your own. You wished to have never woken from your daze. You wanted to remain oblivious. You wanted the pain to go back to mere pinpricks. It was too much. Succumbing to the enormous pain, you let your eyes shut close. You realised that your body was going to sleep. Maybe for the last time.

....

Chuuya sat in a chair next to your sleeping form. You were lying unconscious on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed. Your entire torso was covered in bandages. You had taken two bullets, one in the side and one right next to your belly button. The doctors were able to save you in time, and it was a matter of time till you gained consciousness.

Chuuya held his face in his hands. The memories of just moments prior to visiting the hospital kept running through his head. He kept seeing flashes of your blood oozing out of your body. He kept remembering the way your eyes had glazed over while he tried to apply pressure on your wounds. There was so much blood. His mere two hands were proving to be inefficient. So, he had activated his ability to push the blood back in. He had no clue if that had helped. He remembered activating his ability the moment you had let out a blood curdling scream. He had levitated you both out of the car and high up in the night sky.

He should have listened to you. Your forewarnings were right. Something terrible had ended up happening. The mole he had sent inside was found murdered by the backup team, and the head of the organization had fled. His men had taken up sniping positions all across the hills. Two of them had shot you at once. He remembered going on a mad spree and pelting boulders at all the men in his sight using his ability right before he flew to the hospital with you in his arms.

“Has she gained consciousness?”, the doctor asked as she peeked in. Chuuya had asked all medical personnel to leave him alone with his sweetheart, a little too passionately, after they were done treating you, and hence the poor doctor was a tad bit scared to check up on your vitals.

Chuuya whipped his head up.

“No.”

The doctor scrunched her brows in worry. Rushing in, she did some tests.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if the patient doesn’t wake up in another hour, we will have to declare a coma condition.”

“What?!”

The doctor jumped at his outburst, but answered him, nonetheless.

“The body is behaving as if it is already in coma. This can also be because it is repairing itself. It doesn’t necessarily have to be coma.”

She sighed.

“But, if the patient retains this state of unconsciousness, we will have to rule out a natural healing process. I suggest you try to communicate with the patient. Sit close, hold hands, maintain physical contact. Try speaking. That way, maybe the body will react to a familiar scent, touch or voice, and gain consciousness.”

Chuuya gulped, worried, and nodded.

“I understand.”

He shakily made his way to your face, observing your serene features. He hesitantly put your hair behind your ear, breathing unsteadily. He felt immense guilt and anger. He was guilty of not paying your uneasiness an ear, and he was angry because he couldn’t save you. If only he had been more vigilant, more aware of his surroundings, he would have been able to smell a rat.

“I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have been able to protect you.”

He gasped inaudibly, trying to keep his sobs in. He couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely down his cheeks, a symbol of his immense fear of losing you. He couldn’t bear the idea of loosing you. It might be selfish of him, but he wanted you to live, because God-forbid, if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He knew that if such a devastating situation ever occurred, he would lose all sanity and go mad. He would lose his mental balance and completely fall off the edge. He couldn’t bear to be separated from you for two days, forget the rest of his lifetime.

He caressed your cheek, smiling bitterly at your sleeping form. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, he let himself truly cry. He let out all his emotions into your hair. He found comfort in your warmth. He has always felt the safest in your embrace. That’s where he could truly be himself.

He didn’t realise how long it had been when he began talking to you. Telling you how much he loved you and how he couldn’t live without you. He pondered on how he would take his life if you left him.

“I’d have to go to that stupid mackerel for guidance. But then again, he has been unsuccessful in killing himself for 22 years. He’s probably the worst suicidal guy out there.”

He was lying next to you now, cradling your frail form in his arms.

The doctor waltzed in, a serious and sorrowful expression straining her pretty features.

“Nakahara-san, I’m so sorry.”

Chuuya gritted his teeth, holding onto you tighter.

“No! There’s still a chance that-”

“Its hopeless. The patient has already been in this state for 16 hours.”

“16 hours?”

The doctor smiled sympathetically.

“I gave you a lot more time. I thought maybe the constant contact would help. But sadly, it’s out of our hands now.”

Chuuya sat up, holding your face in his large palms.

“Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

He shook you gently, desperate to get any kind of reaction out of you.

“Nakahara-san! Please get away from the patient! You mustn’t cause any harm! Security?!”

The doctor rushed forward to pull Chuuya off of you, but he held onto you. He grabbed your arms, looping his own around them and pulling you towards him.

“Wake up!”

He rested his face on your chest, sobs escaping him.

“Please... please wake up...”

The doctor reached forward to clasp his shoulder, trying to pry him off of you.

A large gasp followed by couple of coughs were heard.

You took in a large breath, trying to swallow. Your throat was dry and scratchy.

“Y/N!”

Looking up, you saw Chuuya holding you in his arms, a relieved and surprised expression on his elegant features.

“Hey.”

Your voice sounded raspy, but it was music to his ears.

He engulfed you in a hug, one that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“She’s still a patient!”

The doctor reprimanded as the security guards pulled Chuuya off of you.

You smiled at the tiny ginger.

“I’m alive, Chu. Stop being dramatic.”

Chuuya laughed at your carefree attitude. He didn’t resist the men as they pulled him out of the room. He was relieved to see you awake. He didn’t care about anything else. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up.

“Call Gin and tell her that I’m not dead!”

“You don’t need to call me, idiot. I was waiting right outside.”

You smiled as she walked in, giving you a hug.

“Why does she get to go in but not me?!”

Chuuya whined.

“Hey Gin, guess what?”

Gin smiled at you, sitting at the edge of your bed at the nurses did their check-ups.

“What?”

“I’m alive, bitch!”

Your snickers could be heard till the hallway, where the rest of your friends were seated. Shaking his head, Tachihara snickered.

“Good ol’ Y/N.”

236 notes · View notes

elmidol · 4 years ago

Text

Error: Program Not Found - Nineteen (NSFW)

Summary: You are in charge of programming the droids that work most closely with both General Hux and Kylo Ren. Unbeknownst to you, each of these two men have it in their heads that your relationship extends beyond the workplace. This causes things to escalate quickly when your two apparently secret boyfriends compare notes on their respective partner who is far too similar for their liking.

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: sex in all three routes

Side Notes: Contains all three routes, divided by breaks

Error: Program Not Found

“Lust is a lovely word and makes love so much more interesting.” - Michael Faudet

Nineteen: Desire

[Kylo Route]

You twirled the stylus between two fingers while checking over Eddard's shoulder at the adjustments he was making to the design. It was a new file, copy and pasted from a blueprint, and one he would need to send to your datapad once the pair of you finished making changes. Less issues arose regarding the droids' programming than their physical composition. A recent discussion had lended insight to needs that might arise, such as the potential possibility that the droid would be required to physically lift a patient. You did not want the droid to be overly bulky either, however, as that could slow it down unnecessarily as well as increase the cost of materials; for the latter, you imagined certain First Order officers would utilize that as a means of forcing the project to be discontinued.

You reached past Eddard to mark an area on a portion that he was not using. The pair of you worked flawlessly, easily falling into a rhythm that other members of your team had taken note of. They felt at ease discussing matters with Eddard, aware that he would relay the information to you. This was precisely what you had hoped for, namely for when then assassination droid project entered its later stages.

Eddard glanced at the adjustment that you had made and began to integrate that into his own version of the droid’s body. Satisfied, you moved away from him in favor of sitting in front of a console where you worked on the coding unique to the physical therapy droids. You had made notes of steps you hoped to take over the coming week, and falling behind in any area was not an option. Aelin had volunteered to fashion a temporary droid to test behavior in the assassination droids; that had given you a small window to devote yourself to this project. Otherwise the board would have demanded that you shelve this for the end of the week.

The majority of them, you thought with a forming scowl, did not understand how programming and droid design worked, not really. All they were familiar with were the results, the product. They were also the first ones to complain if something went wrong; something that would be caught given proper time and testing. Their unrealistic expectations had dissuaded previous programming specialists from renewing their contracts. You could not say that you were not grateful for this; you would not have a job here if the others had failed to leave. That did not mean you were not set on demanding, albeit silently, that those officers learn a thing or two.

After finishing the line of code that you had been working with, you were struck by the memory of another note you had made. You promptly pulled up a folder that listed where you would locate the programs you planned to delete entirely. The physical therapy droids would not be administering medications of any sort; this was something that had been agreed upon, and such programs could later be worked into the droids for future models.

“Do you think there should be more flexibility in the droid’s thumb?” Eddard asked whilst tapping the end of his stylus against his lips. You turned around in your seat, furrowing your brow and working to remember the exact specifications that had previously been agreed upon. Once more in sync with you, Eddard held up the display and pointed with the stylus. “There are some stretches where the patient might require a better grip. Improved dexterity would be easy to add and upgrade the amount of those exercises the droids can perform.” You stared at the joint in question for another second then bobbed your head in three quick nods. Eddard returned the datapad to the table. His stylus worked across its surface, and you twisted around to focus on your own task.

The additional dexterity would lift some of the restrictions you previously believed would hinder the programs you had in mind. Why you had not considered the rather simple solution of modifying the joint, you were not certain. It was an oversight that did not embarrass you; this was the entire purpose of having a team. A competent team at that. You looked over at two of the junior programmers seated to your left with a smile. One had been tasked with reading through the coding you wrote for errors, and the other tested known viruses against various portions that were meant to be already protected. Warfare came in many forms. You would not risk an already injured individual being subjected to harm from tampering committed by rivals or enemies.

I do not want to be complacent and believe they would not attack me in a similar manner. You wrinkled your nose in disgust over hypothetical threats to your safety that could arise with working on droids. There were countless, though some would be beyond what the common officer would think up. I am working to design a droid that will do that, though. It will conceal itself and then kill another. Not only manually. The best way would be to have the droid perform other acts that endanger the target, no different than if a human was assigned to the kill. Poison. Sabotage.

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head to think instead of the programs that you were working with in the present.

By the end of your shift, you were grateful for the knowledge that your quarters would be empty of human companions aside from a single guest. As for the droids, TeeArr was assisting Aelin, and the MSE droid remained shut down until you could spare some time to work on its programming without interruption. The guest who would be visiting was none other than Kylo Ren. You suppressed a shudder at the thought of him while you walked past First Order personnel. You ducked into the mess hall long enough to grab a nutrition bar and a drink. Replenishing your energy reserves would only be wise, after all.

You entered your quarters to find that your guest had already arrived. Quirking a brow, you studied his frame as Kylo continued to crouch before the MSE droid with his head tilted to the side. He ran a gloved hand along the remnants of the dent his foot had created. This was one of those moments where you could not read him so easily, could only guess as to where his mind wandered.

You set the ration bar and drink down on a bolted table so that you could get to them later when you found the need. For a moment you considered whether or not you should have grabbed something for Kylo as well. Yet you did not think he would be remaining in your quarters after the two of you were finished.

“Are you going to stay masked while we…?” you trailed off, noting that your tone had gone from lighthearted to strained. Kylo rose to his full height while twisting around in a fluid motion. Facing you, he reached up with both of his hands and undid the latches on his helmet. “I understand needing to keep barriers.” You gestured with your hand at the walls of the room, pointing out the fact that the two of you were in your quarters rather than his. An agreement, one that you had initiated.

"The Supreme Leader views many things as sentimental weaknesses." That unspoken I would have wanted you to remain with me overnight offered a glimpse of the prison in which Snoke kept Kylo confined.

You swallowed thickly, curling your fingers towards your palms. Kylo took a step in your direction. You mirrored his action, meeting him halfway so that the pair of you were standing quite literally toe-to-toe in the center of your quarters. As he had walked, Kylo had removed his helmet and carried it along. You placed your hands on its surface, noting each and every groove, every dent that it contained from battles and training exercises. Some were difficult to catch with the eye; the texture elicited a soft sigh from you.

“I appreciate that this is not one of those things.” You glanced up, peeking through your eyelashes at him then lowering your gaze back to the helmet. His lips had parted, and those brown eyes had darkened. Showing his face in this intimate setting—now you could not help but wonder how Snoke would have treated Kylo; did he abuse him verbally and physically? You were aware of the Supreme Leader’s power only by hearsay. You had, on the other hand, witnessed what Kylo could do, at least in part. For him to be wary of Snoke, you would willingly admit to the fear that arose.

To change the subject and draw your thoughts and his away from Snoke, you shifted your hands downwards on the helmet until your limbs eclipsed his. The textured leather gloves stuck to your skin, creating friction that had not been present on the mask. You smiled, tilted back your head, and released a heavy breath.

“I do not want to wait any longer.” His eyes widened a fraction at your words then narrowed as his mouth twisted upwards into a predatory grin. You shuddered in response, your toes curling and a smile forming on your face in return. Removing your hands from his, you toyed with the hem of your shirt. Kylo’s gaze followed your movements, tracking everything you did with a growing hunger. “You should put down your helmet.”

The teasing earned you a grunt. Kylo licked his lips yet obliged. He moved to the side long enough to place his helmet on another raised surface in the room, which meant that neither of you would be tripping over it any time soon. That was just as well; you wanted to be reckless while you could. You began to work your clothes off of your body, and you noticed with glee that Kylo experienced identical feelings.

He stepped forward after removing his cowl and belt. Kylo shrugged off his outer robes with an ease you had not expected. Perhaps you should have, you mused, since he wore them often. Your thoughts were quickly cut off as Kylo cupped your breasts as he surged forward to claim your mouth. You whimpered into the kiss, your body burning with pleasure as he began to knead your breasts. You placed your hands on him in return, feeling his muscles through the shirt that he wore. You had seen him shirtless before, had felt him, however it was different this time. Knowing that he would be inside of you, every touch was intensified.

You flattened your palms on his abdomen and slipped them downwards, moving them in reverse as soon as felt the edge of the material against the tips of your fingers. His flesh underneath was warm, the muscles taut. You clenched around nothing, again imagining him moving inside of you, aware of how these muscles would shift. Kylo released a moan into the kiss, a hungry sound that preceded your name. Your knees weakened at the unexpectedness, yet you did not fall. An invisible Force kept you in place, and you were grateful for it.

“I want to feel you.” The whine that escaped you did not embarrass you. You nodded your agreement as he kissed your lips again then your chin then neck. You tilted your head to allow him better access to your throat, which he nipped. His teeth grazed your skin until he found a spot he liked near your collarbone, a spot that your uniform would conceal.

“Mm...you can leave a hickey a little higher. I am not ashamed.” The noise that left him caused your cheeks to heat up. Somehow, you had managed to catch him off guard. His mouth hovered just over your skin, his tongue flicked out for but a moment as he licked his lips. “Too sentimental?”

“No.” Almost breathless, except that you could feel that warm air run along your wet skin. “You’re sentimental with droids and their purposes.” His words were not meant as an insult; he was merely stating facts, and you could hear a note of curiosity in them. He worked to understand you in the same way that you tried to understand him. The freedom that you had to show emotions, did he envy you that? If he did, he did not hate you for it. Such jealousy did not cause him to harbor any ill will. Instead, if it did exist, it encouraged him to shift upwards and begin to nibble your throat higher, just as you had all but asked him to.

Closing your eyes so that you could relish in the feel of that skilled mouth, you trailed your hands from his abdomen to the hem of his pants. You toyed with the elastic, letting it snap into place after hooking one finger into it. Kylo released a puff of air that you could have sworn was a chuckle.

Kylo groped you through your bra again then slipped his hands past that barrier, cupping you and swiping his thumbs along your nipples just as he bit down on your neck. You clenched again, another whimper leaving you followed by a swear. His tongue flicked back and forth in time with his thumbs, and he caught your hardened nipples with the seams of his gloves. Your sensitive flesh burned for him more simultaneous to growing too sensitive. You squirmed, starting to lean away only to undulate your body nearer.

You lifted one hand and placed it on the back of Kylo’s head, running your fingers through his hair. He had started to walk backwards, bringing you along with him towards the bed. Kylo sat down on its edge, and you straddled his leg, grinding against his thigh. He unclasped your bra then worked it down your arms. Pulling away long enough to get rid of the cloth, Kylo claimed your mouth with a hunger you matched.

Your tongue caressed his before he once more kissed a trail downwards, this time making it to your breast. Kylo nipped at the right one, pinching the nipple of the left. You rolled your hips, riding his thigh while working open his pants. The pair of you pushed away from one another. Your hands flew along the final layers of your clothing, your eyes glued to his body as Kylo did the same for himself.

Fully naked, Kylo pushed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you. His pelvis crashed into yours, and he wasted no time rocking against you. His cock slipped between your folds, eliciting a moan from your mouth as well as a groan from his. He repeated the action, this time adding more force. You swore, bucking up your hips to meet his thrusts. Leaning up, you captured his bottom lip with your teeth then let it pop back into place. Kylo caressed your cheek with his mouth, which ghosted its way up to your ear.

“You’re so wet for me.” His voice was husky, deep. Kylo placed his hands on your hips as you ground against his cock. You spread your legs wider, the two of you working together so that the next thrust lined him up with you, allowed him to move into you. The head of his thick cock spread you open, filling you completely. You trembled at his size, at how he felt within you. You whispered out a swear, your eyelids fluttering as he sank in inch by inch.

Kylo wasted no time fucking you, pumping into you. You set your hands on his chest, slipped them up to his shoulders. You wanted to feel every inch of him. Kylo placed one hand on the bed by your head, propping himself up so that you could look down the length of your bodies to watch. You did just that, biting down on your bottom lip and furrowing your brow as another moan spilled from you. You toyed with your clit, and Kylo adjusted how he fucked you, moving more slowly, dragging out your pleasure.

He used his other hand to play with your breasts again. Kylo rolled a hardened nipple under the pad of his finger. You marveled over how different it felt compared to when he had been wearing gloves. Your inner walls clenched around him, the wetness from your body coating his cock and creating crude sounds with each and every thrust. Kylo pinched your nipple and tugged until you moaned loudly, your cunt tightening around him.

He dropped his hand down lower, pushing at your limb so that he could hook his thumb against your clit instead. He rocked it back and forth, coated his thumb in your slick, and then teased you at a different angle, his movements fast. You grabbed at the blankets underneath you, your scream of pleasure swallowed by his mouth, muffled by his tongue as you came. Kylo did not stop moving, his hips pounding into you even as you clenched around him over and over, your vaginal walls pulsing as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Kylo pulled almost completely out then snapped his hips, reentering you and moving until he was fully sheathed. You threw back your head while meeting his thrusts, aware that he was close. You could feel him, could hear him. His growl. You saw the way he bared his teeth, relished in the way his entire body trembled as he came, filling you with his hot cum. He continued to thrust into you, his hips gradually stilling, until he had fully softened. Only then did he pull out and roll onto his back, lying beside you.

You held your breath for a moment. Would have done so for longer except that you were a panting mess, and your body would not allow you to. “Stay for a little while?”

“Of course.” You could hear the smirk. “We’re not done here yet.” It made your heart flutter; you could read between the lines. This was about sex, but also about spending more time with you under the pretense of sex. You could rest for a while, could close your eyes, and he would be able to watch you without the threat of sentiment being used against him by the Supreme Leader. He could argue sex. Could argue desire.

You extended your hand and set it atop his chest. “Not by a longshot.”

---------

[Hux Route]

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head to think instead of the programs that you were working with in the present.

By the end of your shift, you were grateful that TeeArr was assisting Aelin and the MSE droid was safe, shut down until you could spare some time to work on its programming without interruption. You would not be spending the night in your quarters. Instead, you headed for General Hux’s private quarters. It took effort to keep the smile off your face. Not that anyone observant would be oblivious to your destination. Still, keeping your composure would ward away some of the awkward and potentially inappropriate teasing you would otherwise incur. There would be plenty of that the next day once the stormtrooper guards gossiped that you did not leave.

Armitage’s quarters were set at a comfortable temperature, a few degrees above the majority of the ship to ensure Millicent’s health remained the best it could be. She crouched near the TIE cat bed, her tail swishing back and forth. She shimmied then crouched back lower. You grinned as you observed her, your head tilted a little so that you could listen for sounds that would reveal Armitage’s location. You remained unsure if he had returned from the bridge just yet; you could be waiting a little while, which you did not mind.

You placed the datapad you had brought with you onto the armrest of the blue couch. Stretching your arms above your head, you interlaced your fingers and arched your back, alleviating some of the tension that had built after spending hours at a console.

Millicent leapt up to her full height and pranced over to you. She did not meow or release any other noise. Instead she sat a finger’s length out of reach and stared up at you with unblinking eyes. You blinked, though. Then furrowed your brow and engaged in the staring contest that she had started. She rolled over onto her back after a handful of seconds elapsed. Millicent reached a paw out towards you while meowing plaintively. You obliged, taking a step forward and crouching long enough to stroke the top of her head and scratched her chest. She purred with contentment, her eyelids slipping closed even as you rose back to your full height.

You curled up on the couch for a small catnap while you waited for Armitage. Millicent leapt up with you, the small feline curling against your stomach and purring. As you closed your eyes, you pet the top of her head. You drifted off within minutes.

A hand being placed on your shoulder roused you from that sleep. You shifted your hands around Millicent, tugging her gently so that you did not squish her, and rolled onto your other side. Armitage had already shed his greatcloak along with his outer shirt and belt. Your eyes wandered along his undershirt and pants. Peeking over the edge of the couch, you noted with pleasure that he had taken off his boots as well. He was just as eager as you were.

“I hope you are well rested,” he said teasingly, his voice deep. You flicked your tongue along your lips, sitting up and relinquishing your hold on Millicent. The cat leapt off the couch, rubbed against Armitage, and then padded over to her cat bed, curling up inside.

You tracked her movements while you replied to him. “I certainly am. Are you?” A low chuckle reverberated from him. You spread your legs a little, and Armitage rose, slotting himself between them. His mouth hungrily claimed yours, his hands beginning to roam your body the same as yours were doing to his. “Are you going to be ruthless in bed?” you asked teasingly against his mouth. He groaned in response, his hands slipping up under your shirt and groping your breasts through your bra. He pinched your nipples, tugging at them, making you clench and whimper with need.

“Not this time.” You hummed out your approval at the acknowledgment that there would be future engagements such as this as well. “Mm...your things are by the bed.” You kissed him, smiling against his lips at how orderly he could be. It was nice to know where your overnight bag had been placed, sure; but that was not your focus. Right then, you wanted clothing to be removed.

You broke away from the kiss to take off your shirt then tugged at his undershirt so that it untucked from his pants. “You are still overdressed.” His eyes glinted with hunger at your words. Armitage grasped your thighs and parted your legs further, rolling his hips so that you could feel how hard he was. You ground against him in return, growing more wet as the friction increased. Armitage kissed the corner of your mouth before tackling your neck with tongue and teeth. He nibbled downwards until he reached your collarbone. “Oh!” You moaned then swore before cupping the back of his head and tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “Do not worry about leaving marks.” You were not ashamed to be in a relationship with him.

His nose skimmed your flesh, his hot breath hitting the area he had just bitten. You closed your eyes to melt into the sensations of his touch. Meanwhile, you busied your hands with opening the front of his pants as well as your own. Armitage was skilled, that tongue undulating salaciously. He groped you through your bra again, shifting his hands around your back to undo its clasp. He cupped your breasts in either of his hands, kneading them and toying with your hardening nipples in alteration. His mouth moved with yours, your tongues dancing together in time with each roll of his wrist, with every thrust the two of you made against one another. His hard cock pushed against you through the confines of your clothing.

“Do you,” he began, briefly cutting himself off with another kiss, “want to go to the bed?”

“No,” you moaned, arching your back as he pinched your nipples again, tugging at them then swiping his thumbs back and forth against the sensitive buds. “Right here.” You would have said right now as well, however you knew that it was unnecessary. As orderly as the man could be, you could feel his need, knew he was not going to make you wait much longer before he was inside of you.

You raked your hands up through Armitage’s hair, disheveling it, marveling how soft it felt. He shuddered under your ministrations. Armitage pushed you onto your back and climbed atop you. His hands were busy, in constant motion as he stripped you down to your socks, which you worked off and kicked away. He once more kissed a trail downwards, though this time he went further, taking a bared breast into his mouth. He cupped its twin, kneading and sucking at you. Your toes curled, and you rolled your hips, arching up off the couch so that you could reangle yourself, so that you could feel him against you. Armitage shifted a thigh against you instead, and you ground down. He pushed at your hips, and you whimpered, baring your teeth though you obeyed the silent command.

It was worth it; he shoved down his pants, finished stripping, and you felt his naked thigh against your cunt in little time at all. You rocked back and forth, toying with his hair again and biting your bottom lip to stifle a groan of pleasure with how he teased you. He moved his other thigh between your legs, spreading you open and again crashing his pelvis into yours, rocking against you. His movements and yours brought his cock between your folders. You groaned at the feel of him, at how the head of his erection brushed your clit with each thrust. Armitage moaned, too. He rolled his hips again, more desperately, more hungrily. You swore, bucking up to meet his thrusts and entangling a hand in his hair to bring him down for another kiss.

You trailed your fingers down his chest and over his abdomen, feeling the muscles twitch in response. Armitage lined himself up with you, rolling his hips more slowly so that you could feel the head of his cock begin to spread you open. He sank into you inch by inch. You curled your toes at the feel of him, your eyelids fluttering as you moaned and trembled. His first thrusts were shallow, allowing you to adjust to the size of him. He was thick, stretching you wide.

Armitage reached behind you with one hand to grip the armrest of the couch. He cupped your chin with the other, tilting your head back and peering directly into your eyes. “You’re so wet,” he all but purred. You moaned in reply, whispering his name. He kissed you, his desire spiking, his hips moving quicker. You reangled yourself so that he brushed against your clit with his thrusts, reaching down and toying with yourself as well.

He knew where to pet at you, what parts of your skin to touch so that electrifying pleasure traveled throughout your body. You clenched around him, growing more wet and closer to orgasm. To prolong your pleasure, you moved your hand away from yourself to instead ghost your fingertips up his abdomen to his chest. You circled a nipple, and he mirrored your actions. You swore again, shuddering as the dam built and built until you were pushed over the edge.

Armitage continued to move within you, fucking you through your orgasm, teasing your sensitive flesh and turning you into an incoherent mess. You sighed into his mouth as he kissed you, pounding his hips faster as he chased his own release. You wrapped your arms around him, felt his chest against yours. Your walls clenched and unclenched around him, your vaginal walls pulsing as he continued to move. His thrusts became more shallow. His tongue mirroring those movements.

He broke the kiss as he came, his cum filling you with each subsequent thrust. Armitage whispered what sounded like your name and you stroked your hands through his hair, felt those soft tufts while staring into his eyes. He did not stop moving until the both of you finished, his hips coming to a gradual halt. He pulled out of you, backing away to give you room to rise, though you nestled against him on the couch almost immediately.

“I just want to stay here for a while.” He hummed his agreement, though he reached for his pants and worked them up over his hips. He grabbed his black shirt and passed it to you, which caused you to break out in a grin. Rather than wear it, you used it as a lap blanket. This earned you a chuckle. He might have said something, however Millicent trotted over to the pair of you. She hopped onto Armitage’s lap, laying down with her front paws on your legs, kneading the material of the shirt. “I am still unsure how I feel about working on assassination droids.”

“They will be good for the First Order.” A grunt from you. Noncommittal. “They will cause death, certainly, however it is worth considering that for each droid that succeeds, that is a flesh and blood person who did not have to be in such a position.”

A person who did not have to kill, you thought, groaning and setting the heels of your hands on your eyes. “Honestly I think part of the issue is that I am exhausted.”

“I will make us tea, then we can relax together, hmm?” It sounded heavenly. Armitage shifted Millicent into your lap, and she laid back down without making a single noise of protest. You watched Armitage walk around, noted the way his body moved. He was less rigid here, a fact that was more apparent with his shirt off. “Do you have a preferred blend?” You shook your head, stating that anything that would help you rest and ward away a headache would be best. “I have just the one for us.”

“Oh? Stressful day?” You had not asked him about it sooner in part because you felt that it was a silly question; he had many projects to overlook and countless officers along with stormtroopers. It was dizzying to consider.

Armitage brought two cups over along with the blend and a kettle. He walked away once more, long enough to grab the portable heating device. “Not terribly. I was distracted a bit, thinking of this.” His eyes lifted from the kettle to land on your face. You smiled at him. “I look forward to sharing the bed with you.”

--------

[Poly Route]

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head to think instead of the programs that you were working with in the present.

Hours later, two pairs of footsteps echoed in the hall and filtered into the room. You would not have taken notice of them had they belonged to stormtroopers or officers that you had no intention of meeting with that cycle. These footfalls were familiar to you. Their presence prompted you to glance at the chrono. You could log out of the system in less than four minutes’s time. That Kylo Ren was drawing nearer was a mild surprise; the two of you had already agreed to spend extra time together in your quarters. Armitage entering the room beside Kylo, though, was what caught you off guard. You would be spending the night cycle with him, and he knew that you had plans with Kylo.

There was no air of antagonism rolling off either of them that you could feel. You finished deleting another unnecessary program then began to close out of the applications and wrap up your supplies. TeeArr was working alongside Aelin, so he was not present to comment on the pair. Armitage reached you before Kylo did, although this was in part due to Kylo slowing his pace for Armitage to do so. You blinked in surprise.

“I am going to be a little later,” Armitage said, his voice low though not quite a whisper. If anyone here was going to eavesdrop, it did not matter how quietly he spoke. He was simply being discreet so that those still involved in their work would not be interrupted. “I wanted to give you the option to reschedule if you wished.”

“If it is only a little later, I would like to keep the plans as they are.”

“Very good.” He cleared his throat. “Other projects that we will be involved with have elements I must personally oversee.” Ah, the assassination droid. You hummed in acknowledgment of his words, and gave a nod in return when he inclined his head as a means of dismissing himself. His eyes had swept across your mouth, a fact that you had not missed. He would have kissed you had there not been witnesses. You watched him walk away.

Kylo, in the meantime, stepped closer. He cocked his head to the side. “Perhaps you should lead the way.” Another thing that you appreciated about both of them; they gave you plenty of opportunities to make decisions and also to change your mind. You could go to your quarters or to his. No matter what things would be a bit scandalous. You would either go to Kylo’s quarters or yours with him then go to Armitage’s. People were going to talk. More than they already were, that is. You snorted and began walking. Kylo trailed along after you through the door. It was sweet of him, you thought, to come pick you up as he had.

You rolled your shoulders as you walked, debating for a moment which place you wanted to go. You would not be interrupted in your quarters since you had been able to make the proper arrangements. On the other hand, spending time in his quarters felt intimate on a different level. Did Snoke monitor him there? You felt gross thinking about that. Shuddered and decided that you would stick with your quarters, at least for this time.

The two of you entered your quarters, you first and then him. As the door closed behind him and you turned around, Kylo removed his helmet and set it off to the side. Both of you knew what was going to happen here. It was what you had thought about; or, one of the things. You would focus on Armitage later though. Right now you just wanted to be with Kylo, to touch him. This physical closeness was something that you had started to crave more and more frequently. While you were not limited on time, you knew that Kylo was.

You toyed with the hem of your shirt, watching him watch you. Seeing the hunger in his eyes, you began to work your clothes off of your body. Kylo stepped forward after removing his cowl and belt. He shrugged off his outer robes then reached for you, cupping your breasts as he surged forward to claim your mouth. You whimpered into the kiss, your body burning with pleasure as he began to knead your breasts. You placed your hands on him in return, feeling his muscles through the shirt that he wore. You had seen him shirtless before, had felt him, however it was different this time. Knowing that he would be inside of you, every touch was intensified.

Kylo placed his hands on your hips as you ground against his cock. You spread your legs wider, the two of you working together so that the next thrust lined him up with you, allowed him to move into you. Kylo wasted no time fucking into you. You set your hands on his chest, slipped them up to his shoulders. Kylo placed one hand on the bed by your head, propping himself up so that you could look down the length of your bodies to watch. You did just that, biting down on your bottom lip and furrowing your brow as another moan spilled from you. You toyed with your clit, and Kylo adjusted how he fucked you, moving more slowly, dragging out your pleasure.

He used his other hand to play with your breasts again. Kylo rolled a hardened nipple under the pad of his finger. Your inner walls clenched around him, the wetness from your body coating his cock and creating crude sounds with each and every thrust. Kylo pinched your nipple and tugged until you moaned loudly, your cunt tightening around him.

The two of you laid there together for a time, enjoying simply being in one another’s presence while you caught your breath. Kylo would not leave until he had to. In the meanwhile, you slowly redressed after regaining your breath. He did as well, though he did not pull on his helmet or cowl immediately.

When it was time for him to leave, you walked out of your quarters with him, an overnight bag in your hand. It was a relief for you that he acted normally. Kylo had watched you pack, had not given you a single strange look. He was genuinely comfortable with this arrangement. It alleviated some of the fears that you had harbored. You had kissed him one final time before he had put on his helmet, aware that you would not be able to after you had left.

[Armitage’s Quarters]

Millicent pranced over to you and reached a paw out while meowing plaintively. You obliged, taking a step forward and crouching long enough to stroke the top of her head and scratched her chest. She purred with contentment, her eyelids slipping closed even as you rose back to your full height.

“Not this time.” You kissed him then broke away from the kiss to take off your shirt before tugging at his undershirt so that it untucked from his pants. “You are still overdressed.” His eyes glinted with hunger at your words.

Armitage grasped your thighs and parted your legs further, rolling his hips so that you could feel how hard he was. You ground against him in return, growing more wet as the friction increased. Armitage kissed the corner of your mouth before tackling your neck with tongue and teeth. He nibbled downwards until he reached your collarbone, the opposite side from what Kylo had previously touched. He did not react to any marks that had been left. That served to arouse you further, to increase the level of comfort you had with him.

You raked your hands up through Armitage’s hair, disheveling it, marveling how soft it felt. He shuddered under your ministrations. Armitage pushed you onto your back and climbed atop you. His hands were busy, in constant motion as he stripped you down to your socks, which you worked off and kicked away. He once more kissed a trail downwards, though this time he went further, taking a bared breast into his mouth. He cupped its twin, kneading and sucking at you. Your toes curled, and you rolled your hips, arching up off the couch so that you could reangle yourself to feel him against you. Armitage shifted a thigh against you instead, and you ground down. He pushed at your hips, and you whimpered, baring your teeth though you obeyed the silent command.

It was worth it; he shoved down his pants, finished stripping, and you felt his naked thigh against your cunt. You rocked back and forth, toying with his hair again and biting your bottom lip to stifle a groan of pleasure with how he teased you. He moved his other thigh between your legs, spreading you open and again crashing his pelvis into yours, rocking against you. His movements and yours brought his cock between your folders. You groaned at the feel of him, at how the head of his erection brushed your clit with each thrust. Armitage rolled his hips again, more desperately, more hungrily. You swore, bucking up to meet his thrusts and entangling a hand in his hair to bring him down for another kiss.

You trailed your fingers down his chest and over his abdomen, feeling the muscles twitch in response. Armitage lined himself up with you, rolling his hips more slowly so that you could feel him sink into you inch by inch. You curled your toes, your eyelids fluttering as you moaned and trembled. His first thrusts were shallow, allowing you to adjust to the size of him. He was thick, stretching you wide.

Armitage reached behind you with one hand to grip the armrest of the couch. He cupped your chin with the other, tilting your head back and peering directly into your eyes. He kissed you, his desire spiking, his hips moving quicker. You reangled yourself so that he brushed against your clit with his thrusts, reaching down and toying with yourself as well.

“How are you liking the arrangement? I hope it hasn’t added any stress.”

You appreciated his concern. “I did worry for a little while. I think that we are finding a nice groove, and neither of you are making this awkward. I feel wanted, respected.” It was the latter that filled you with so much warmth. You cuddled even closer to him. “I am looking forward to sleeping together in your bed.” You looked to Millicent, who began to pad over to the two of you. “All three of us, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle as Millicent hopped onto his lap and stretched out.

#errorpnf #kylo ren x reader #general hux x reader #kylo x reader #hux x reader #kylo ren imagine #general hux imagine

37 notes · View notes

dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

The Island

Fingel Von Frings took a deep drag of his cigar and exhaled smoke against the glass that allowed him to see into the cryo chamber while the people inside couldn’t see out.

Cassell medical personnel wrapped in thick cloth hazmat suits with protective helmets and visors worked quickly to secure Tom Allman for transport. His thick claws were wrapped in cut proof mittens. HIs arms were twisted tight in a straight jacket. On top of that, thick straps reinforced with kevlar tied his arms together. Finally, a helmet faced with a titanium alloy cage was fitted over his head.

There was no point in wasting any more serum on this young man. He had passed the point of no return.

As the Vice Chancellor, he’d only had the responsibility to sign off on his expulsion from Cassell. He didn’t have to be here. But he always made it a point to see off every student who left academy without an official ceremony.

A wheeled metal coffin was rolled in. On the count of three, the medics lifted his body and placed him inside, closing the lid. A pneumatic pump, sealed it with the push of the button and the glass that showed his sleeping face inside was frosted over as liquid nitrogen filled the tubing in the metal casket dropping the temperature inside. At this point, all of his body processes would cease functioning.

Fingel took a deep breath and let it out.

Footsteps approached him. Mr. Baldwin, the head of the executive department came up to him and held out a stack of papers. He stared at it. He was starting to hate those 8 x 10 white sheets as much as he hated doing his classwork.

But after a seconds hesitation, he took it from Baldwin’s hands and started to flip through it. “Runes, in Norton Hall?”

“First I’ve heard of it. Of course, it’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard. We scanned the entire place. No sign of any runes.”

“Have it tested for Longwei.” He pulled a pen from his pocket. It gleamed golden, a diamond at its head. He signed his name and handed the papers back to him.

“Yes, sir.”

“How is she?”

“Emotional.”

Fingel turned to him and stared coldly, his hands in his pockets. “What emotions.”

“Sadness, betrayal, distrust...”

“Has she talked to anyone?”

“She refuses all visitors. She believes Tom is dead. I’m fine with that. No one ever comes back from that island.”

“Does she want to leave?” Fingel began to walk out of the medical ward, still puffing on his cigar.

“She hasn’t said that. She hasn’t called her parents either.”

The chill wind from the rotors of a helicopter tossed Fingel’s golden hair about his face. The coffin was wheeled from the high security facility and into the open cargo bay of the helicopter.

“That’s strange. She talks to them every day...”

“Yes, her father has called the main office several times asking to speak with her. No word from her mother though.” Baldwin said this casually.

Of course, Fingel and Carli - otherwise known as Meixiu - talked frequently and Baldwin knew this. She had to be informed of new patients admitted to the island. “Do you want to know her opinion on the situation?”

“I do actually!” Though he was raising his voice to shout above the roar of the helicopter engine, Fingel could still hear the anger in his voice.

The machine lifted off and gained in altitude before swinging its nose to point towards the northwest and speed out of sight.

Once it was quiet enough to speak normally. “I want to know how long she plans to continue this cruel exercise. It would have been much easier to just expel him and put a bullet in his head. Which is what I suggested from the outset! And what I suggested after he went berserk and almost killed her the first time!” “Well, you went against your own orders the first time...” Fingel was quick to correct him.

“Which... I sincerely regret.”

Fingel turned to face him directly. “Why? What gave you hope the first time that has left you now?”

“There was a theory. I’d say it’s more of a myth than a theory. It stemmed from the report of Akira and Kogure Sakurai. Those two unstable Hybrids were part of the Devil Clan and had dangerous bloodlines. Both of them were held in the black jails run by Hydra until they escaped. Kogure, however, never harmed anyone, and Akira, after running on a spree of rape and murder, suddenly stopped.”

“The common denominator of the two was personal attachments. Kogure was attached to Chimei Gen. It was only after she felt that she had lost him that she finally gave in to her blood. And Akira had given in to his blood until he met a girl on the subway, which was actually an undercover agent for Hydra. He switched from killing every woman he met, to trying to protect her.”

“Ah... the power of love and friendship!” Fingel said without any mocking tone.

“Of course, this has been impossible to study. But when I saw how attached Ru’Yi was, I hoped she could act as a restraint for him. I knew this also posed a danger, so I put her under constant surveillance. But... this only served to put her in danger. The result was the same. She’s in the hospital, and he’s her mother’s guinea pig. The results were the same for Akira and Kogure as well.”

Fingel raised his hand and put it on Baldwin’s shoulder without looking at him. “Science has progressed and will progress. Even if he is a guinea pig, it may be one on the road to a solution.”

“We have a solution... Vice Chancellor.” He shrugged off his hand. “She just doesn’t want to accept it.”

Mr. Baldwin left Fingel to make the slow and long walk back to his office in the drifting snow.

The helicopter traversed the continental United States, briefly stopped for fuel in LA and lifted off again over the endless blue ocean of the Pacific. Eventually, the sun set and the pilot only had the instruments to go by. According to the official maps, there was no island on the coordinates. The helicopter was headed for a deadzone. The pilot turned the navigation to auto and stood up, walking back to the cargo bay.

The pilot removed the heavy flight helmet, revealing falling cascade of ebony hair which she shook out and ran her hands through.

Mai Sakatoku then reached into the onflight fridge for a can of beer which she opened and took a sip. “You make for quiet company.”

She leaned over to see into the window of the coffin. The young man’s eyes were still closed, frozen in place by tears that couldn’t be shed. She lightly tapped the glass with a delicate fingernail. “You and Miss Chu’s daughter, hm?”

She leaned against the coffin, her mind going back to the countless so called boyfriends of the past. “I suppose it’s fitting. Her father was also a berserker, before he fell head over heels for a certain dragon. And in the end, that was what saved his life.”

“She never got to tell you the story, because she doesn’t know it. In fact, I think it’s just me, my fellow Nanny and Mingfei Lu that know the end of that story.”

“Let’s hope yours ends a bit differently.”

There was no signal out here. So Mai had to content herself with whatever she had already downloaded on her phone, bingewatching her favorite movies and K-dramas. Meanwhile, she kept a close eye on the casket, making sure the temperature was kept cold enough to keep this guy from waking up.

A sudden alarm shook her from her reverie. She stood and went to the cockpit. Another plane, flying low, almost out of radar range but nearly directly below her. “Ah... we have a curious jet?”

She tried to get a picture of it, but it appeared invisible against the dark waves of the ocean. “Cloaking technology?”

Her eyes narrowed. This was no normal inquiry from a nation-state. Few nations could approach this level of high tech on a plane. Hybrids were higher functioning physically. The technology they surrounded themselves with was likewise ahead of human technology.

That made this jet fair game. She did not change trajectory. Instead, she reached for a large gun on the back of the the plane. She hoisted to her shoulder with a soft grunt and strapped it to herself. She then hooked herself to the interior of the helicopter and opened the door.

The ferocious wind was enough to tear her away from the helicopter and she grit her teeth and let go. She was like an out of control kite, fluttering precariously in the wind. It was like being on the worst carnival ride. Still her powerful muscles braced themselves and forced the sight to her eyes. It wouldn’t do to have any reports getting out about the island.

She aimed directly for the cockpit of the jet. A tiny target to be sure. She took her time fluttering back and forth. Eventually her mind caught the rhythm of the wind, the speed of the aircraft, and linked it to the knowledge of the speed of the missile. She aimed at a spot far ahead and after a few more seconds, she pulled the trigger.

There was a bright flash of light. She blinked and the target had disappeared. She imagined the pilot getting vaporized instantly, the instrumentation getting blown apart. She turned her head to look, there wasn’t so much as a ripple that could remain in the open ocean.

#Class of 2032 #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Mai Sakatoku

11 notes · View notes

krinsbez · 5 years ago

Text

GI Joe: Remixed, the Stygians

Another set of OCs by the brilliant Night_stalker, this time of the Baroness’ elite personal black ops goon squad, the Stygians:

Team leader:

Name: Waylon Calthrope Codename: Obelisk DoB: Classified Orientation: Homosexual Former Affiliation: Force Research Unit Bio: Waylon comes from a long line of military men, so when he was picked for the FRU, eyebrows were raised. Yet, the hardened NCO had been chosen, so he went into it eyes open. Needless to say, by the time he was transferred out, he had picked up quite a few unsettling habits. Needless to say, these habits weren't what Her Majesty's Armed Forces particularly liked, so he was sent down to Gibraltar, in order to cool off. Alas, he was involved in Operation Flavius, which was the final straw for many of the brass. Come 1990, he was handed his kit in a box, told to leave, and politely reminded of the Official Secrets Act while on his way out the door. Naturally, he did what anyone would do in such a time, and went off to join ArmorGroup, a PMC, where he actually was doing very well for himself. Well, nobody doubted his skills, stories are still circulating throughout their barracks of his daring deeds, the problem was, stories were circulating. Including one or two that showed he hadn't quite lost those habits that had gotten his discharge papers in the first place. In an attempt to avoid losing such a highly valued member, AG just had him rotated into a training position, figuring that he could be far less harmful there then in the field. A reasonable argument, it failed to consider one possibility. Namely, that he would occasionally be called up as a Floater (Guard used to fill temp holes in schedules), which was exploited once the people in charge of staffing realized the potential gold mine they had on tap. Then the company was acquired by G4S, and one of the changes they made was letting go of personnel who they deemed to be unfit to have under their umbrella. Waylon was one such person, but this time, he had done some prep work. As he walked out the door of his old office, a worn cardboard box with the few personal belongings he had inside it, he pulled out a business card, and dialed it. The phone rang twice, before a woman with a Eastern European accent picked up the phone. "Baroness? This is Waylon, are you still looking for another member of that outfit you're setting up?" Hobbies: Knife Throwing, Weightlifting, Fantasy Football, and Homebrewing.

Members:

Name: Matsui Yunosuke Codename: Goryō DoB: June 19th, 1979 Former Affiliation: Inagawa-kai Specialty: Close In Protection Orientation: Het, Married to Console (see below) Bio: Born into a Yakuza family, Matsui grew up with the ethos of the movement as his nursery rhymes. However, he didn't seem to fit quite in. Despite his best efforts, the only things he seemed to be good at were keeping silent, and when keeping silent wasn't enough, cracking skulls. As one would imagine, while it makes him a great bodyguard and enforcer, when it comes to stuff that requires a bit more of a business mind, he didn't fit in. The local boss, seeking to capitalize on his talents, assigned him to guard his beloved sister, who was responsible for handling the books side of the business. However, even he couldn't protect her from an full sized hit squad sent by a angry rival. While in hospital, his boss tried to silence him, which failed horrifically. Once he was done recovering from some torn stitches, he was contacted by one of the Athenes, and made a very appealing offer..... Revenge for service, in essence. Stricken with rage, he agreed, and the boss was soon killed in what was described as "A gangland deal gone wrong", and what was described by a police offical off record as "The single biggest bloodbath he'd seen in his career". Hobbies: Kendo, Spider keeping, listening to punk rock, and watching trashy romance anime.

Name: Balbina Krajewska Codename: Baba Yaga DoB: Classified Former Affiliation: Medi-Vipers, before that, [REDACTED] Orientation: Asexual. Specialty: Medical/Interrogation Bio: Much of Balbina's life before Cobra is left blank. Mostly as she comes from the Medi-Vipers, and that stuff is kept classified as hell, and also because well, nobody wants to look too deep into the Abyss. That said, it is known that she's a combat medic par none, winning several commendations for her life saving methods, as well as managing to uncover a organ theft ring. Totally unrelated, according to her. That said, she did ruffle some feathers, as well as other parts of their bodies, so a sideways transfer was in order. Hobbies: Cosplaying, Ballet, Medical experimentation, and Medical Cosplaying (Don't ask. Seriously.).

Name: [REDACTED] Codename: Console DoB: Unknown Former Affiliation: Cyber-Vipers, before that, Unknown Orientation: Het, married to Goryo Specialty: Heavy Weapons/Cyberwarfare Bio: While little is known about Console's previous life, given the usual Cyber-Viper "Welcome Basket", what is known is that she's got a fondness for heavy weapons, in particular DShK's, a hatred for GI Joe that seems rather intense, implying a personal connection to them, and finally, some very interesting tattoos on her body. Or at least, the remains of some tattoos, implying the Cybers laser removed them before her conversion occurred. Hobbies: World of Tanks, Knitting, Trolling forums, and deadlifting weights.

Name: Romeo Moretti Codename: Gaucho DoB: Unknown Former Affiliation: None Orientation: Single Target Sexuality, believed to be Baroness Specialty: Long Range Threat Neutralization Bio: Growing up in the Atacama Desert on the compound of a former Argentinian military sharpshooter and his wives, Romeo's childhood wasn't really the best. Between the daily marches to toughen them up for the impending apocolaypse, the hard shooting conditions, tight rations, and the annual tradition of being dumped someplace to find their way back, well, the fact that it took Romeo until his 16th birthday before he finally put a bullet through his father's skull could be taken as a sign of how patient he was. Or how long before he was allowed live rounds and some trigger time. Fleeing the compound with a old Mosin-Nagant rifle on his back, a canteen of water, and his favorite horse, it wasn't expected he'd show up anytime soon. Yet he survived in the wilderness, becoming a poacher, and on occasion when hunting was lean, a hitman. His natural charm and skill with a rifle somewhat impressed the locals, a fact which he started exploiting, trading animal pelts and teeth for ammo and other nescessities. However, soon the heat became too much for him, both figuratively and literally, so he started looking for a way out. As luck would have it, Baroness had heard rumors about this daring man's skills, and made him a offer. It's rumored he accepted as soon as he saw a photo of his new boss, but there probably isn't any truth to them. Hobbies: Horseback riding, hunting, meditation, collecting stuff for his secret shrine to Baroness.

Name: Goktas Muhiddin Codename: Askari DoB: March 5, 1983 Former Affiliation: Special Forces Command, Turkey Orientation: Het Specality: General Combat Bio: [REDACTED] Hobbies: Wargaming, Baccarat, playing Overwatch (Reaper Main), and cross country running.

BONUS: The leader of Athene, The Baroness’ personal paramilitary unit (because her boyfriend has the Iron Grenadiers and she can’t stand not being having an army of her own)

Name: Moira Burns Codename: Lozen DoB: December 19th, 1980 Former Affiliation: 1st Marine Battalion, A Company Orientation: Gay, currently engaged to a Track-Viper and a Rock-Viper at the same time. Bio: Why Moira left the Marines is a matter of some debate amongst her new command. Some claim that she was forced out before Don't Ask was repealed, and held a grudge over the matter. Others make the argument that the "Apricot Incident" was the last straw for her military career. And then we just have people who think she joined out of true love. The answer may never be known, as all parties involve remain silent. What is known is that she left the Marines with a bit of ax to grind against them, which made her rather appealing to the Baroness. Why she picked Moira for the Athene unit's lead isn't as concealed. According to Baroness: "Moira's professionalism and aggressive leadership style made her a perfect fit for the Athene Unit", which has been accepted as the gospel truth. Or at least nobody feels a desire to really push matters much further past that. Hobbies: Burning down Apricot trees, movie reviews, dog breeding, and weight lifting.

#GI Joe #GI Joe: Remixed #GI Joe Fanfic #GI Joe: Remixed Stygians

1 note · View note

nemowritesstuff · 6 years ago

Text

Wingless Dragon Race Introduction: Sheta

Wingless Dragon Taglist: @malaykawrites @madammuffins @kaatiba @mvcreates @starlitesymphony

Sheta are a humanoid species, and Humanity's closest allies. Experts in the medical sciences, Sheta are at the forefront of many biological advancements.

As the story is on its first draft, all content is subject to change. Under a cut because it’s pushing 1200 words.

Physical

Sheta are reptilian beings, standing on two legs with two arms and a tail. Their hands have four fingers and two thumbs, one thumb on top of the hand and one on the bottom. Short claws extend off the fingers but not the thumbs. Their heads extend into a snout, with a nose on the end. Their tails are generally as long as the Sheta is tall. The blade on the end of the tail is made of enamel, similar to human teeth.

Sheta reach a height of about 1.6 meters when fully grown, with common variances being 1 to 1.9 meters. While about as broad as a human, they generally bulkier, averaging 110kg for a Sheta of average height. Sheta scales are generally deep brown or pale orange, to blend in with mud, dirt, or sand.

Sheta reach adulthood at 27 years of age, and used to have a life expectancy of 90 years, but their medical advances increased that to about 195 years.

Sheta are cold blooded (specifically, ectothermic). Sheta clothing has such evolved to allow basic thermal control, with temperature belts being a popular item. When working planetside, depending on the planet and daily temperature, partial or complete TeRe (Temperature Regulation) gear will be needed. Sheta can tolerate a wide range of temperatures, but colder environments slow down their productivity.

For food, Sheta are herbivores, and farming is seen as an important and spiritual part of life. Vegetables, fruits, and nuts provide the bulk of a Sheta's diet. In times of extreme need, a Sheta can eat meat, but cannot handle meat diets over extended periods of time.

The Sheta's tail-blade starts to form about six months after birth. At three years, it is naturally sharp enough to harm. This is when the child begins to learn how to care for the tail-blade, as a damaged or unkept blade can lead to severe pain or life-threatening infections. Properly cared for, the tail-blade can handle the rigors of daily use. If needed, a Sheta can use specially developed tail coverings that allow the tail-blade to withstand even the most strenuous of jobs.

The tail has another use, besides being a natural weapon. Sheta speak in near monotone voices and do not emote much with their faces. Their tail, however, is very animated during conversations, and is the main way for a Sheta to convey a tone through body language. Not understanding Sheta tail movements can lead one to the assumption that Sheta are cold and emotionless.

Culture

Sheta communities are smaller affairs, never really reaching more than several dozen members at a time. With pregnancies lasting from 30 to 32 months, and Sheta maturing later in life than most, Sheta are fiercely protective of their community members. Despite being in such small communities, all Sheta are bound through their devotion to All-Mother, and are willing to work with other communities to make life easier. This mindset has made Sheta valued members on starships, and many Sheta find new homes as permanent members of a ship's crew.

Sheta are a deeply religious people, with almost every Sheta following Matria, the worshiping of All-Mother. All-Mother is both the Sheta homeworld and their Goddess, and is revered as such. Many aspects of life, from farming and traveling to birth and death, involve rituals and sacrifices to the All-Mother.

Among the stars, Sheta still worship All-Mother and Her teachings. Any planet the Sheta land on is thanked for their hospitality in receiving the children of All-Mother, and the Sheta treat the planet as if it were their own. To recklessly endanger a planet is a criminal offense among the Sheta, and depending on the severity, can be punished by death. There have been several political incidents because of this, leading to a revamping of environmental laws in the Galactic Federation.

Sheta in the Galactic Federation

The Sheta's greatest contribution to the galaxy as a whole is their medical knowledge. When the Sheta's skill with medicine was combined with the Olgoth's skill in technology, the average health of GF citizens improved drastically. Sheta are highly valued as medical personnel, and the most skilled of Sheta doctors are on the cutting edge of medical advancement.

History

When Humanity first arrived on All-Mother, they did not know it was occupied by the Sheta. The humans, shortly after arriving, quickly turned to warring amongst themselves, as what they wanted to do with the planet remained unknown. In the midst of this war, the Sheta set about sabotaging the war efforts, trying to make the humans abandon the planet.

By the time the Sheta revealed themselves, the humans were nearly out of resources. Humanity knew they needed to make a deal with the Sheta. The treaty they signed left All-Mother to the Sheta, but the Sheta would assist the humans in not dying of starvation in space. In return, Humanity would gift the Sheta space travel.

The two coexisted as they further explored the stars. Upon finding the Yur, Olgoth, Tichon, and Amiriad, the Sheta willingly joined the Galactic Federation, while Humanity signed a treaty with their new alien allies. When Humanity went to war with the Amiriad, and then with itself over joining the Galactic Federation, some Sheta joined the humans as medics. The Sheta were able to save many lives during the wars, but seeing the devastation the humans were capable of unleashing left most Sheta mentally scarred.

After Humanity joined the Galactic Federation, Sheta went back to their lives as doctors and biologists. Many Sheta spend their days either helping others or researching cures. Alongside the Yur, Sheta are quick to dispel violence. Having seen Humanity in war three times, the Sheta are in no hurry to experience such a travesty again.

Bonus fact

The All-Mother's most sacred teaching is to not take life needlessly. But, even the Sheta acknowledge that sometimes killing is necessary to save lives. To earn the right to kill, a Sheta must complete the Murderous Rights ritual. The ritual consists of several personality and problem solving tests, to determine if a Sheta is capable of making the snap decisions while also maintaining morality and logical thinking.

The ritual ends when the Sheta attempting the ritual is told to enter a room and kill the other Sheta within. Some communities use convicted criminals, others use the elderly or terminally ill; there have been rare instances of communities using innocent Sheta. After making the kill, the Sheta must stand in the rain to see if All-Mother blesses them. If there is still blood on the tail by the end of the ritual, the Sheta becomes Bloodstained.

A Bloodstained gains the legal and spiritual rights to kill whomever they wish. The Sheta are willing to defend their Bloodstained's actions, even if the target is a member of another race, so sure are they that their Bloodstained's religiously sanctioned murder is entirely necessary.

Wingless Dragon introduction here (mobile)

#wingless dragon #wingless dragon sheta #nemo's writing

9 notes · View notes

gyromitra-esculenta · 7 years ago

Text

The Indifferent Stars 1: Everybody Dies (And It Is a Load of Bullshit)

Okay, to have all my eggs in one basket, sice i posted only the link earlier, and the second part (along with fear chapter) in on the way, have at the unecessary Mass Effect AU. It’s supposed to be more of a slice-of-life space opera after the second chapter. Renegade scenario with Commander Reyes.

“Do not be deceived,” replied the machine. “I’ve begun, it’s true, with everything in ‘n’, but only out of familiarity. To create however is one thing, to destroy, another thing entirely. I can blot out the world for the simple reason that I’m able to do anything and everything - and everything means everything - in 'n’, and consequently Nothingness is child’s play for me. In less than a minute now you will cease to have existence, along with everything else, so tell me now, Klapaucius, and quickly, that I am really and truly everything I was programmed to be, before it is too late.” – “The Cyberiad - Fables for the Cybernetic Age” by Stanisław Lem, as translated by Michael Kendel

With the labored sound of his own breathing as his only companion, Gabriel Reyes contemplates the stars floating just outside of his reach – stars dulled by the glow of the nearby sun seeping over the edge of his visor. Not much else he can do at the moment, not with the most of the joints of his suit frozen in place due to the power failure resulting probably from the impact with a bigger piece of wreckage from the Overwatch. Which is probably for the better, considering each minute movement sends the distress pangs of sharp pain informing him of dislocated and broken bones. The familiar taste of iron oozes down his throat.

There is something to be said about the cold beauty of the stars, the fact that some of them are long dead and gone, and yet… And yet their image persists. How one could travel away from their chosen sun and keep its memory with themselves forever.

He briefly wonders who will receive his last transmission when he is same as they are, long dead and gone, cold with the unrelenting whispers of space creeping into his bones. He had never been one to lie to himself about the odds, and the odds are not unfavorable – they are impossible and foregone conclusions that slipped through his fingers the moment they were attacked.

To his right a part of the ship’s stern drifts slowly, the fires still burning where the breach containment fields held. Even if he could move there, it would be of no use with the life support slowly switching off in his suit.

Thank god Morrison wasn’t on the deck because he would have killed himself trying to get everyone to the safety – the thought is strangely random and fond, maybe a little bitter – brings out a strained chuckle and a twist of suffering from his ribs. Would it have changed anything if the person he had trusted to be his shadow for years were here? The answer is inconsequential, the ifs and buts mere exercises in futility, the memory…

Morrison walking into his quarters, stopping just past the door, posture rigid and official, hands held behind his back. Staring forward at a spot above his head.

“Commander.”

They are still playing this game, Gabriel thinks, over a week now, and Morrison is still stubbornly fuming like a baby. Should have long calmed by now. He is going to humor him.

“At ease,” Gabriel leans back in the chair, considers the subtle shift at his words. “What do you want, Morrison?”

“Commander, I’ve submitted a request for reassignment,” Morrison keeps his eyes steady on the wall. “I’d ask you to sign off on it.”

The anticipation – the cold suffocating feeling – unfurls in his stomach, races up his spine, covers his shoulders – a sensation he had come to associate with moments before anger and fight. Gabriel grits his teeth and Morrison still – still – refuses to look at him.

“What do you think to achieve by that?”

“I want us to part our ways with mutual respect, Commander,” Morrison breaks his composure for a brief moment, eyes drifting to Gabriel and then snapping back to that space in the air. ”In three days time, the ship will dock on Earth. I’d like to check in with Command then.”

The tense cold doesn’t leave, the expected anger does not come, instead, a slimy chilly thing curls around his back and reaches to his throat. Gabriel flicks fingers over the console.

“Approved.”

Morrison starts, then nods.

“Thank you, Commander.”

Three days, he will come around, but at the dock, he is distinctly reminded Ana, who would have talked Morrison down from his hissy fit, is no longer with them.

“Commander.”

There is it again, the anticipation, the cold prickling at his neck, and Morrison stands before him with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Gabriel waits for himself to get angry but in the end, he clasps Morrison’s arm briefly.

“Good luck out there, jackass. Don’t get killed.”

Morrison blinks rapidly, almost licks his lips – almost smiles but not truly – then bows his head slightly.

“You too, Gabriel. Thank you,” he lingers a second, weight shifting to the other leg, finally turns and walks away. Gabriel lifts back the pad.

“So we have to replace all of those rifles and check for…” McCree is looking at him quizzically with a furrowed brow. “Something the matter?”

“Nah, I suppose you got your reasons, I’ll get to those rifles then, boss,” the kid shrugs, “shouldn’t be a problem.”

Now, Gabriel wonders what would have happened if he had turned around. Had Morrison hesitated and faltered in his step, waiting to be stopped, or merely pressed on without a glance back?

The chill slowly sets in his flesh and with the indifferent stars and the void of the space inside his helmet, Gabriel finds letting go is easier than he ever thought it to be. He slips his eyes closed and floats away.

And apparently, considering the amount of pain he wakes up to, letting go is worth shit, and some more. Something simmers under his skin, hot and freezing simultaneously. The light is too sharp and darkness crowds the edges of his vision. A voice, calling, insistent, drifts in and out, too lost in the static buzzing in his ears.

Gabriel rolls to the side and tumbles down to the ground, disoriented. Something is very wrong in how his body does not want to listen to what he tells it to do. Hearing and sight slowly return to him. Explosions. Shots. Structural damage if the tremors that run through his arms he leverages himself on are not originating from the muscles he feels like he is using for the first time in days. Voice, female, steady but hurried, calling him through the broadcasting systems.

“Reyes. Give me a sign you hear me. Stand up.” Gabriel hoists himself up and defiantly stares at the probable source of the voice, the rude gesture is an afterthought but brings a modicum of satisfaction. The room decidedly does not resemble a proper medical facility, the equipment speaks more of a science laboratory – and vertigo threatens him with nausea. “Good. The base is under attack and you need to move fast.”

The question of the woman’s trustworthiness hangs in the air but the sounds confirm the situation. Gabriel turns towards the door trying to keep his balance – something is off, the way he feels how his body catches up to his intentions. The corridor is empty, the smell of spent ammunition and smoke wafts from the outside.

“The security is compromised and there is no other personnel surviving. We do not have the feed from the next room but other sensors indicate at least one person, you have to find a way to bypass them.”

He notices Talon emblem on the wall, and that brings up many issues in a split second, the most disconcerting being what exactly is he doing in a facility clearly belonging to Talon, and why the woman speaking to him sounds as if he should be here. Gabriel sets the questions aside, the same as he does with his evident survival of the assault on the Overwatch. He runs through possible scenarios as he approaches the door from the side, the rescue mission is a possibility considering the clear association of the base with Talon.

He has no suit and no weapon, which could prove troublesome, but overcoming one enemy while unarmed is not a hard feat, especially if he expects them to be inexperienced in comparison.

After the first shots are fired, Gabriel rushes forward taking in the details. No, no Alliance equipment, the assault rifle is of make not used by the military – ERCS. Not the rescue, at least not an official mission, and the man shoots continuously without pause. The simmer and static rise in volume until it suddenly stops and he stands over a body, twisted and bent, skin grey and gaunt, stretched strangely over the facial bones, eyelids pulled back. He does not recollect what took place except the sudden rush forward.

“Now this is amazing,” a new voice joins in, an accent Gabriel cannot place, “the vitals show unexpected abrupt system stabilization.”

“Doctor, we have no time…”

“This is my experiment, Lacroix, I remind you.”

Gabriel picks up the rifle and checks the ammo. The sensation of being lagged and strangely displaced recedes.

“And this experiment, doctor, will prove to be a worthless venture if Reyes fails to join us. Reyes, you need to go up the stairs and reach the dock. The shortest route will have compromised security bots and human enemies.”

An experiment, an interesting thought. Gabriel cracks his neck and slowly ascends the stairs. The occasional droids he finds on his way are easy to dispose of – no living targets, only bodies. The first woman gives him steady instructions and warnings, and from other information that slips through her guidance, he can glean the situation.

The Talon base he is traversing is, hilariously, under the attack by the members of the very same organization, the snake is eating its own tail. Lacroix’s allegiance also becomes clear. His own role in this whole mess is unexplained but at this precise moment he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, not yet, not until he gets answers and blows this joint.

The door to the supposed dock hisses open and Gabriel is faced with the first sight of a human since the moment he woke up less than half hour ago. The woman stands pointing a pistol at a hunched down man with his hands in the air.

“Amelie, you don’t understand! What are you doin…” The woman fires a single shot and then holsters her gun turning towards him. Her visible skin gleams with an uncanny tint of bluish coloration.

“Finally, Reyes, you took your time, now put your weapon down because the only way you’re getting off this station is with us,” she nods at him, and Gabriel feels anger towards her – a Talon member – trying to issue him orders. “He was the leader of this little mutiny,” Lacroix misinterprets his posture.

“What’s stopping me from blowing out your brains?”

“For starters, there is only one functional shuttle, and the only person that has access codes is me,” she shows her back and starts to walk away. “Follow me.”

“Not a care about any other survivors?” Gabriel lowers the rifle and follows slightly behind her.

“You are no stranger to necessary sacrifices yourself. Everyone in this facility is expendable but you. Even me, but only after I deliver you to a meeting with my superior.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, Reyes,” Lacroix lets him enter the ship first and closes the hatch behind, fiddles for a moment with the keypad. The undocking begins the moment he sits in front of the other woman inside, a redhead, in a much more flamboyant attire than Lacroix’s bodysuit. Heterochromia, judging by the unusual pigmentation, unless the eye is artificial, with a metallic plaque around the socket.

“Attention to detail, good. Topical albinism,” the one Lacroix referred to as ‘doctor’ earlier gives explanation observing him with a scrutiny that makes his skin crawl. The simmer in his muscles is back. “The parameters still read off the charts, especially with the fact we had to jumpstart you before the planned date, but system stability holds. Tell me, Gabriel, what did you do then? Used medi-gel?”

“Doesn’t concern you,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and Lacroix seats herself next to her.

“On the contrary. Doctor O’Deorain is the head of the Reaper Project, and she is singlehandedly responsible for bringing you back to life,�� Lacroix flicks open a datapad. “The whole venture took over twenty-nine months since the moment we had recovered your body and sunk more funds than the production cost of the Alliance fleet up to two years ago over the entire period of its existence. We had expected to exceed that significantly but the project had been cut short by seven months.”

Gabriel forces down the unease over the new information – if it’s even true – and puts the rifle on the seat to his right but keeps his hand on it.

“Please, Moira will suffice, and I’m amazed at the headway I had achieved, with the starting parameters he shouldn’t even be functional yet,” the doctor smirks. “Run the personality test.”

“I’m not something you can run tests on,” Gabriel snarls lunging forward, fingers clenching around her neck, digging into the jugulars, and momentarily he feels a cold twist in the back of his throat. His hand loses definition, the edges fuzzy, like smoke, but everything else in the backdrop keeps sharpness of its contours. “What have you done to…?”

Moira pins him with a glance.

“Sit down, Gabriel. It seems that the cohesion suffers in moments of agitation, dare I say, emotional agitation,” he releases her and falls back, staring at his fingers. “Interesting, it’s the same readings from a moment before the system’s stabilization. And to answer your question, I had introduced a swarm of my own design into your body to aid in the reconstruction and to jumpstart your organs. If you are worried about the grey goo scenario, I took the precautions. The swarm is keyed to your genetic blueprint and cannot interact in the same fashion with any other organic or inorganic matter. Amelie, the test.”

Gabriel still cannot tear away his gaze from his hand slowly returning to the solid shape.

“Of course, doctor. Now, Reyes, your career is a surprise with your background. An orphan without traceable kin, outside the system, enlisted military as soon as possible. Torfan, batarians?”

“I’m no stranger to necessary sacrifices, Lacroix, said that yourself. Done the job,” he growls, “some called me a criminal.”

“Which was a surprise considering that even earlier you were lauded for facing the impossible odds and leading your squad with minimal casualties on Elysium.”

“The strategic goal had been repelling the attack, not leading the offense.”

“I think you should try something more recent, we have to at least gauge if there are any significant reticency issues,” Moira fiddles with her omni-tool. “This is still ancient LTM.”

“Virmire,” Lacroix stares at him over the datapad. Virmire. One of the very close calls. The first friend he had lost. “Ana Amari, one associate that had been working with you the longest. Why have you left her behind to die?”

“It was her choice, and in the end, it gave us the time we needed to obliterate the facility,” and this dull pressure on his lungs is the loss, the longing for her presence and advice.

“You needn’t feel guilty, Reyes, it was the right choice, and, as confirmed by our intelligence, Ana Amari is alive. We hope you can both cooperate again.”

“Alive?” He spits, fast, attention suddenly focused on Lacroix.

“We have established, how to say, the communication channel. Now, about…”

“No,” Gabriel interrupts her, fast and harsh. If Talon had put that much of an interest in his life, it is time to make use of it. “You want me to do something, I pick people. I want McCree and Morrison.”

“This should prove entertaining,” Moira regards leisurely her painted nails. “Go on, Amelie.”

“McCree is proving hard to track down but with the bounty that was put on his head only in case of information that proves authentic as to his whereabouts, or his capture, I don’t expect him to stay hidden much longer. Morrison, on the other hand,” Lacroix puts back her datapad, “is listed as killed in action during a raid on one of our minor facilities on Pharese. Our investigation proved to be futile in uncovering any traces leading to a different conclusion.”

The chill stabs into his shoulders, bites into the back of his neck, clenches around his chest, runs along his spine. Gabriel stares at his fingers slipping again into blurred lines. Morrison had one job to do, always shit at listening to the orders, always something. The snarling fury finally comes and he latches onto it, fast, vicious, scorching white-hot sensation at his core.

He is defined.

Gabriel smiles. Over two years, closer to three. He still knows too little. If, and only if, anything he is being told is factually true, there is much more he needs to be aware of to bring down Talon.

“And what do you want me to do?”

Lacroix leans back.

“For now, Doomfist wants to discuss this with you. It is the only thing that is required of you, Commander Reyes, after that you are free to go wherever you please”

He can work with this.

When the news hit, Jack remembers the strange detachment, the certainty it’s all some form of a ruse, or a mistake, but as hours turn into days, and those into weeks, he is overcome by sudden grief, and with hands at his mouth he finally lets himself cry, just like he had when Ana had been declared dead.

It isn’t until he crawls from under the rubble and the bodies of his squadmates that something just breaks. He walks away and does not look back.

Now, he steps off the shuttle, a worn out bag slung over his shoulder, and walks with a step of a man unsure of his destination even if he had familiarized himself with the layout of the station beforehand, at least with what was available to be found. The rest he can find out on his own, exploring, and laying down plans.

Doesn’t take them long to mark him as prey, the predators gorging themselves on the weak and the vulnerable. It isn’t strange that humans are among their favorites, soft, without natural armors and external carapaces.

“Please, I don’t want any trouble,” Jack mutters with his hands raised, empty palms to them, knowing that the display of supplication will only entice them. Five minutes later, he is the single living creature left in the corridor. Methodically, he checks the bodies, collects the money and other things that might prove useful later on. The twinge of guilt is painful, he shoves it back to be forgotten, after all, it was their choice, not his, he gave them a way out.

He has a bigger game to hunt.

#sometimes i write #me!au #r76 #reaper76 #starting with me2 #will go to the end of me3

6 notes · View notes

whimsically-ominously-auspice · 5 years ago

Text

https://seaworldentertainment.com/blog/coronavirus

72 hour window, sea world you can do better.

Anxiety and stress cause people to introvert and a single email or especially a phone call can be impossible.

Mental health awareness should enable you to change that policy.

Plus just the panic some arise to the occasion - others shut down

I do both. In my personal life... I don't like canceling on others. And so sometimes I just don't show up without a call. Just blow it off.

I have severe issues at times where hiding is the best feeling for me to use to survive...

I recommend that all places that charge people to go to give automatic refunds or allow travel rearrangement for up to 5 years in the future but at least 3 years to reschedule.

Having only a short window of the rest of 2020 -- well i can tell you it's highly likely people will not be doing shit on their own for the rest of the year as far as having the freedom to make plans of where and when they will go

And if they do Then you have people from March to October that need to fulfill their travel obligations plus you have the humans that want to go as well.

So, you will actually overfill your facilities and you will cause a problem on quality you can provide and have over crowding which dimishes the quality of your services and the ability of guests to enjoy the experiences and hospitality you provide.

Thus then making people not want to make plans for the following year to your business...

So i recommend at least a 3 year window to reschedule. Maximum of 5.

This allows the promise you'll have guests willing to go for the next 5 years meaning that people will go And pay like at sea world pay extra for food and gift shop items. Thus providing an income.

Some places will feel the need to financially close. Like here we have a small amusement park in Albuquerque called Cliff's... Im sure they would be fine and not close because of the tight knit community and school field trips and etc. But if they had to there would be an ability to sell so the community can still enjoy. So ...

Places should seek the ability to sell to keep the community activities available. Or at minimum give a refund and also highly advertise as much as possible Your permanent end date so people can cram in and get their dollar worth

It seems that our time on the ocean will not exceed past 2020 and so in 2021 the world will be free.

And yet we cannot promise that. I won't. Because I don't know what will happen exactly for sure for sure. Until it's done.

So i feel comfortable saying everyone will be locked down for the remainder of 2020.

Will we be? We are working as diligently as possible. I am working with amnesia and so governments have a 3 year lock down achievement plan. Across the globe. The last two years remaining of the plan are intended to be free with extra caution.

We have many things at stake. Primarily abductions and alien issues. As well as diseases which aren't a primary concern because they are created then altered in a way most people are safe. Its an inner soul that can heal. Changes in the minds and soul. Medical care is for comfort only But can not heal.

Injuries on the other hand must require hospital care and we will work to get healers in as much as possible. Otherwise traditional stitches and surgery for now.

Just don't take it too harsh when a patient dies. Just do the best you can. Know you did the best and somethings are simply out of your control.

If you did the best you could don't second guess. Ask a tree If there is a better solution. But don't torture and beat yourself up about it. Just keep adding and retaining information to help you assist in the future.

I say that as for doctors but that goes for all our Humans, New and Old.

What we hope for is a repeat time of last year where its the end of October we begin release just like we did for the human traffic victims.

So if youre wondering and you need a time placement look to last year and say "this year we will spend like human traffic victims did And we will be let free the same time Sabrina found them last year. So the end of the year holidays"

Personally like Alex I don't like the lock down modes and you can tell by the way i have responded to that.

However i do deem it is necessary for human safety and will only work if it is adhered to the strictest of rules.

Not for the spread of Viruses as i have represented is not a concern to me -- But to prevent human trafficking. And to help people get off illegal drugs.

This last week 1.489 million people were kidnapped for the sole reason of human trafficking in factories. This does not include the 7.86million from planet Xion.

With 84 trillion people in the world it is a small percentage.

However it is still too many. 1 is too many. 3 people is excessive.

Rapes have gone down by 84% since DNA4U surfaced to availability. With Quarentine they have gone up by 2% because people are not using the required recommended Friends list.

Family list is genetic. It doesn't mean you can trust them it just means they share your blood line.

You must refer to the Friends list. It is searchable and filterable. So you can find a family blood line member you can trust to babysit that will not harm your child.

So you need to help us help you by standing your foot down. Call the police if you have to And say "Some one is attempting to repeatedly have access to me and/or my family and they are on my enemy list"

This will make you a priority. And you must show proof of this so the police know how to handle the situation as there sre guidelines. They can type in their computer the codes and cross data and have about 3 different solutions. Of course they will need to "target" "satellite roam" "alert zone" and see if there is stalking going on and what else all this person is doing for the entire time of Quarentine. A list will then appear of what is considered good and bad.

7 times the first week of Quarentine to stores -- pass

7 times in the 3rd week of Quarentine to shop -- fail

8 times to enemy only after researching DNA4U -- inquire -- then it states from the looks of it -- did they go around looking in Windows? Did they go knock? So it is dependent on the quality of the people involved. They are coded by color and letter.

So basically a person of lower quality looking in Windows will state -- inquire -- FAIL FAIL

A highest quality will state -- inquire -- PASS PASS.

Highest human quality will state ------ PASS

Then there's Pass which is an alert the person is an a state of depression. Meaning white gloves. Extra care.

pass means action will occur in the upcoming months or has already. No punishment.

pass/fail means you've done shit that you shouldn't had. But we will let it go.

Then you will get s police report of Tree Quality sent to your DNA4U.

The police will also get one to the satellite map system. SMS. Which they then transfer with their comments to their local police reporting system. If they choose.

So call and report,tresspassors and other things

We called yesterday for Alex and he didn't want to. But i wasnt there. His security is to guard. He ran in the house and they fired warning shots and went in. Thus stating inside the home Chris McGayHay would be killed because that was the claimant territory. And also it auto covers any place where there is lung/gill breathing life.

So had Chris went to where the animals were even am aquarium since he had already physically attacked, he would have been shot and killed immediately.

Instead i handled his sick brain and kept him on the ground by using my experiences. Until police arrived.

I've promised him for the last 20 years i would make sure he got my revenge on his lies and forceful actions upon me and others. Since he was a "child" of 8 years old. Sometimes pure evil is obvious.

He's had time to change and if he had gotten bygones would be bygones. But like other evil he's continued.

So i never told him the police were coming.

And a sideline to "drug dealers" i promised if you used my system you would not be arrested.

I did not promise users anything except they would get their drugs and changes would occur to weight and quantity that is not the dealers concern.

So I in essence protected the drug dealers but trre does over see.

I am head of the CIA and so they do work for me, i do allow them extra pay that would otherwise go to the CIA. "Taxes" so they are paid by the CIA. I got a very tight system.

They would be laid off/fired. Which means when told to quit because theyre stupid they have to quit and then tree handles and it could include arrest if they continue to sell large amounts or to more than 20 people a few grams.

That is people whom were paid by the CIA to handle transactions of illegal drugs. Only.

So 5 people were laid off and tree had in depth discussion in person and so 2 were reihired. 3 were killed. Worldwide.

Now if someone i just explained did what Chris did they would been killed instantly due to the responsibility they hold to be an upright citizen. They would not have been arrested.

Now if Alex was a delivery personnel and Chris was a pick up and you like Alex punched him 9 times in the face and fucked him up. You would get an apology and the customer would been killed and/or arrested. Also you would get free medical care.

Now the concern was I turned him in for the quantity of drugs he had on him. He worked (no longer so mechanics find another team because Chris WILL DIE that is a fact and a promise) for NHRA. ALL NHRA employees were Ordered to get their drug issues under control. Per NHRA WRITTEN and DISTRIBUTED guidelines he was 79% over the limit. So he had almost double what he was allowed to OWN. And he is only allowed to carry one day worth on his person. Unless he just did a pick up.

So it was up to 7 ounces he could carry in the beginning. Now it is 3.4 ounces hes allowed to carry. Any NHRA employee that was employed in February 2020 or hired since then.

It lowers every week. They have to check the schedule.

That said. Any drug user with 2x more Than what the NHRA is allowed and is involved in a violent crime upon an innocent person will be charged with drug trafficking. This includes kidnapping. Domestic violence. Theft.

The minimum level for a random user with out an employee guidelines will be set at 1 ounce as max. On the person.

So that is set for criminal misconduct and that amount is set for the 4th of July.

Everyone in the world is in rehab.

In one way or another. I'm in rehab for my amnesia. Mine is on tv and in social media i can find photo. Ysll help. Its a long explaination ... But y'all help because I watch on Netflix what you do. I watch Top 10 and i watch trending and i watch new releases and recommendations. Like kinda turning on the radio... Just what's on easy access

So this way i found the series "you" which shows Alex in a non forgiving light. The different girls are all me. Basically in simple terms its called "shape shifting" the reason is for our safety... Some for his sanity... Some obviously I made mistakes... Like not realizing the emotional problem associated with

Now there is with Beck some crazy shit. Now what it was was we were being watched with all kinds of spy equipment. So we were like when i was locked in th box -- it was acting... Emotionally we released but used non identifying words to express our True emotions. So basically we were saying What the spies wanted to hear. And doing what they wanted or what we needed to do to survive.

Having to,fight the Zulululu who does mind games included

So the series "you" can be enjoyed the way it is seen or it could be understood with truth. So y'all trended it and i found it.

It was filmed,in,the 1920s 1980s 1960s all,sorts. But we always magic in technology

This is why. Because we are ass holes.

We tricked them to think there was time traveling. Which is not even possible.

We did a lot of torture.

But you see Alex always picking up little kids to save... He can't help it. Poco was an illegal alien. But Alex did all he could to make his life more comfortable and happier and safer. He loved Poco, i loved Poco. We still do. So we didn't treat Any one less than human.

But we did send in electronic devices we would use in the future that were unreleased to the public and did it via magic. And we lied about years. To trick.

We did base it on reality of the time table we set to release the electronics in the future.

So it wasn't a back to the future deal. It was allowing people to use the technology we had available but had not released.

So I am in rehab for my memories and my abilities. Changing skins... Stuff like that...,

Things i have forgotten.

Trees remember but they filmed these via their tools and so i use them so they can be busy for the future and current life.

They are helpers. Some are servants but they are not slaves. And they have human feelings.

So I sometimes need to be reminded to ask them for help. Because i can't do everything on my own.

So im getting tired. Tr33 updated you on Alex. I'll be with him and try to make his day okay

I'll be watching the tv and generally resting.

So thanks for being interested in our lives and have our real life "reality" t.v. up trending and easily for me to find.

"You" is just what i needed for Alex and i's relationship. I love him.

He wants to say what happened yesterday. And so i had sent him stuff in insta then he shared in his group NHRA chat cause it was funny and informative and he said to humans to do something in particular because it will harm them.

So alien tubes that can't handle all the attention not on them got dumb.

And Chris McGayHay went at him in group saying he was disrespectful to non-humans (aka rapists) and so Alex explained what i meant that "sexual gratification isn't expected from tools such as vibrators and shit like that but from real life human experience,such as pain and suffering being relieved by sexual intercourse and the length and intensity of a sexual orgasm is,dependent upon the emotional level of both people. If one is upset just even about the world issues, sexual impulses from the brain will create more intense and sexually gratifying orgasms which is why she said for me not to get one"

And then Chris McGayHay went after Alex all crazy saying "she said not to have sex with her and I'm gonna kick your ass for lying" and some other vulgarities based upon his interactions with me. Because I don't fuck the world. I'm celebiete except with my soulmate in a metaphysical connection.

So Alex said in response "i Wouldn't want to fight me if i were you because she actually hates you and wishes you were dead. And is thus I would beat you to the living daylights were gone only for you to live the next 3 days with your lungs drowning in blood to make you think you have the Corona Virus impeded with COVID-19 and she would have you laying in my yard in some random corner after ghosting spirit and half animal crazed dragging you to where vultures will eat you. But if you wanna bring it on. You know,the rules and you must pay up front now according to the new rules format with the NHRA. Which I don't like but it stems from the Queen's ruling and how she set it up in 1994 in the Original Fight Club. So do what you want as Sabrina says but i guarantee you, you come here to fight me or her or for her when she can fight on her own you will leave here dead or wishing you were."

He has 7 hours left. If the jail sends him to the hospital to repair his internal injuries, he will die in surgery. Doctors and hospital personnel have enough on their plates to not deal with this mess is a blessing.

He does have his phone to call his loved ones to say goodbye, bitch on the internet about me and everyone else. Look at porno. Whatever he wants. But in 7 hours he will die for what he did yesterday and in hid life. Hurting others when ever he could.

So then back to the issue of yesterday. What I then sent Alex totally Contradicted what Chris said. So then I posted it when Alex and I heard Chris saying maybe that wasn't my Insta account although I posted a screen shot last month with that exact account covered over with marker. They could compared the length. I posted a full detailed story which is why I would have that account.

So my text is in Black with pink tinted. I proved I use An old site and tree proves "magic" crosses over my posts to be a certain way via my log on and ip address and my DNA. NO ONE can post in my colors. No one can post in Alex's nor Tree.

Its like going pee. It only comes out one Way. You can't refill your bladder through your pee hole. Tubers have tried this. 89% of them world wide. 100% in the USA. it's impossible

There were classes on it.

So I coded post 2x

And still he went to beat up Alex or just plain commit suicide.

So Tree has a rather lively action adventure movie to share in schools around the world. Don't worry outs specialized. He's the Tree of Knowledge.

He will use it for doctors and lawyers, people wishing to be and those just curious. By the time it's released With full editing it will be "Old World History"

He'll have 21 different videos in regards to the event. Going back 20 years when I gave him the name McGayHeyHey.

So y'all be good. If you need hospital care and you have no insurance, go to an URGENT CARE or Emergency Room and you will be automatically put on my insurance. You'll need a $3 fee to enroll. Your visit that day will cost $1. Total of $4 at the clinic then $1 for all prescription you can pay at the pharmacy or clinc.

I know y'all got $5 on me, too.

1 note · View note

biofunmy · 5 years ago

Text

People Outside Of China Shouldn’t Panic About The Coronavirus

Daniel Leal-Olivas / Getty Images

WASHINGTON — The world of 24-hour news and global stock markets has met its match in the newly identified Chinese coronavirus, which moves at the speed of biology and defies hot takes on how much of a threat it poses to humanity.

“This outbreak is unrolling right in front of our eyes,” CDC’s Nancy Messonnier, director of the National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases, said in a Monday briefing on the 2019-nCoV virus. “Scientists all over the world are looking at the available data to analyze it to come with information that would be helpful.”

In less than a month, a report of dozens of people infected with a newly identified virus in Wuhan, China, after visiting a seafood market has turned into an outbreak affecting more than 2,000 people, causing over 100 deaths so far. The Chinese government has quarantined 50 million people in central China, banning travel following a small number of air travel-related cases, all nonfatal, which have spread to more than a dozen countries.

In the US, there are now five confirmed cases, all travelers from Wuhan. An additional 110 people are under observation, according to Messonnier. The “great majority” are travelers from Wuhan or people who had close contact with them. “The general risk to the [US] public is low at this time,” she stressed.

Still, the first new disease outbreak in the social media era has been defined by panic and uncertainty. An onslaught of sensational disinformation has spread like wildfire on platforms like Twitter and WhatsApp, along with overt propaganda and censorship from Chinese state media, making the actual risks of the fast-moving outbreak difficult to grasp.

In some ways, the uncertainty is built into the new disease, as scientists and health officials scramble to understand it. Even without conspiracy peddlers on YouTube, these early weeks have seen plenty of genuine confusion as case numbers — trickling in from Chinese state media reports — have continued to climb. And health officials worldwide have grappled with identifying the spread of a new disease with what an early scientific report has called “non-specific” symptoms — coughing, fever, and pneumonia.

Right now, the virus has more questions than answers. Here is what we know so far — and what we don’t.

The coronavirus is infectious — but that shouldn’t cause panic.

Health experts measure the potential infectiousness of a disease by a metric called R0, or “R naught.” This is an estimate of the average number of people infected by each new case in a completely susceptible population with no efforts made — such as quarantine, hygiene, or hospitalization — to stop its spread.

Friendly reminder about #nCoV2019 transmissibility estimates from the past day:

The basic reproduction number (R_0) is an *average*. An R_0 of 2 doesn’t necessarily mean that every case will infect 2 other people. In fact, here are 3 (non-exhaustive) scenarios in which R_0 = 2.

08:17 PM – 24 Jan 2020

But the R0 is also a snapshot in time: The measure changes as scientists get more data about the spread of the disease, which has led to fear and uncertainty online about the high initial estimates.

Over the weekend, a number of estimates emerged, ranging from 1.3 to 3.8. Harvard health economist Eric Feigl-Ding called the 3.8 value “thermonuclear pandemic level bad” in a tweet that triggered thousands of panicked shares on the platform, followed by widespread criticism from scientists.

Such declarations were “absolutely premature and hyperbolic,” epidemiologist Maimuna Majumder of Harvard Medical School and Boston Children’s Hospital, an author on one of the preliminary R0 estimate papers, told BuzzFeed News.

Even the high number isn’t so terrifying, Messonnier said. “As a comparison, the R0 for measles is between 12 and 18,” she said. She noted that R0 is a moving target during an outbreak, with the goal of moving it below a measure of 1 as stronger actions are taken to quickly identify existing cases and prevent new ones. Each case would then lead to fewer people with the illness over time, snuffing out its spread.

That’s what happened with SARS — which has an R0 of 3.0, according to the World Health Organization, but an “effective” infectiousness of less than 1 under quarantine measures that only started five months into its 2002 outbreak. SARS infected more than 8,000 people in two years, killing 774.

Dan Vergano / BuzzFeed News

The coronavirus spreads person-to-person — but exactly how it spreads is still being worked out.

The virus is a newly discovered member of the coronavirus family that includes the viruses that caused the SARS and MERS outbreaks.

Human coronaviruses first jump from animals to people — from bats during SARS and camels in MERS — and then mutate to spread person-to-person. The animal that the new coronavirus originated in is still in dispute; one early scientific paper concluded it came from bats, while another argued that it closely resembled a virus that infects snakes. It’s important to know this origin to help stop future animal-to-human virus outbreaks.

Another dispute in the 2019-nCoV outbreak is over when it becomes infectious in the course of an illness, with some Chinese officials suggesting it is early, when no symptoms are evident. That matters because the disease is thought to have a 2- to 14-day incubation period when a potentially infectious person could be unknowingly spreading the disease.

China has suffered a widespread shortage of medical face masks, which experts say are only somewhat effective at stopping the spread of respiratory illnesses. Chinese Premier Li Keqiang also reportedly pledged to provide hospitals in Wuhan with 20,000 pairs of safety goggles to prevent exposure through the eyes; this could benefit health care workers who are exposed to coughing patients in the worst stages of the disease.

For people in the US, CDC suggests washing your hands frequently; not putting your fingers in your mouth, eyes, or nose; and avoiding sick people — standard advice during flu season. Masks would not be necessary for anyone in the US, Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar said on Tuesday.

SARS, the closest known genetic relative to the new coronavirus, only becomes infectious late in the illness, when it is lodged in the lungs and triggers coughing, releasing germs. The flu, by contrast, affects the nose and throat early in an infection and is often spread by sneezing.

In Monday’s CDC briefing, Messonnier pushed back against claims about early infectiousness, reporting “no evidence” for such a spread. She cited travelers without symptoms entering the US without infecting other people on their planes and secondary cases seen primarily in relatives and medical personnel.

Tang Chhin Sothy / Getty Images

The coronavirus can mutate — but so far that hasn’t led to a supervirus.

These viruses are “messy” in their reproduction, coronavirus expert Stanley Perlman of the University of Iowa told BuzzFeed News, because their genetic material is RNA. That means they lack proofreading enzymes that plants and animals have in their cells, which use DNA as their genetic material; as the cells divide, the enzymes police mutations.

Viruses, instead, are barely alive — they’re mostly just packages of reproductive genes surrounded by a protein shell. That makes such RNA viruses prone to mutations such as the one that facilitated the jump of the coronavirus from something at a seafood market in Wuhan to people in the first place. It also raises legitimate fears about a mutation making the virus more infectious as the outbreak spreads.

However, CDC has compared the genetic map of the virus that infected the first two US patients to the one from the first documented Chinese patient in Wuhan. No differences between the two were seen. This suggests that the virus has not mutated, Messonnier said.

The risk of getting infected is high in China — but people in the US should be way more worried about the flu.

The great majority of cases are in China, where the risk of catching the illness is high, according to WHO. “It’s clear the outbreak is spreading rapidly in China,” said Azar. More than 50% of the new cases in China are outside Wuhan’s Hubei province, he noted, spreading to 30 Chinese provinces.

Outside of China, cases are not spiking. They have turned up in 18 countries and appear to be concentrated among people who were in Wuhan before the travel ban started or had close contact with people who were there. This led a WHO emergency panel to decline to declare the outbreak an international emergency last week.

The deaths reported by China are largely among the elderly or people with underlying health conditions, putting them at high risk for pneumonia. A commentary in the Lancet medical journal estimated a 2.9% mortality risk from the virus, compared to 10% for SARS, but added that number is likely to decrease as more mild cases are documented. At the same time, “there is no room for complacency,” said that report, noting the 1918 Spanish flu killed around 50 million people worldwide with a mortality rate of less than 5%.

To put the risk in more context, the current US flu season has killed 54 infants so far, according to CDC. And in the first two weeks of 2020, the flu has killed more than 5,000 people in the US, mostly through associated pneumonia.

Others have suggested imports from China could carry a risk of transmission overseas. But coronavirus particles die within a few hours outside a host cell, according to Messonnier. So there is little risk of commerce from China spreading the outbreak.

Justin Tallis / Getty Images

The widespread quarantine could stop the spread of the disease — but may harm people in China.

Quarantines worked with SARS once Chinese officials quit hiding the extent of the country’s 2002 outbreak. That is the route China is going with now, quickly instituting a massive travel ban on Wuhan that later expanded to include much of Hubei province. But some experts have criticized China’s response to the new coronavirus as excessive and likely ineffective.

“When done properly, limiting population movement can help ease the speed by which a disease spreads,” Rebecca Katz of the Center for Global Health Science and Security at Georgetown University, said in a statement on the unprecedented travel ban.

“Broadly-applied interventions such as travel bans can cause public panic, impede individual rights, lead to secondary effects like shortages of food, and may not be effective at containing a virus if it has already spread outside of the epicenter, as nCoV-2019 has done,” Katz said.

“Social distancing” measures, such as preventing people from riding buses or trains together, are better tools than blanket travel bans, she said.

Samuel Corum / Getty Images

US health officials are still on high alert — and are already developing a vaccine.

Nevertheless, CDC on Monday announced a “Level 3” travel warning on China, its highest level warning available, suggesting avoiding all nonessential trips to the nation of 1.4 billion people. CDC will screen travelers from Wuhan at 20 US airports, CDC Director Robert Redfield announced on Tuesday, and the agency is considering widening those screens to travelers coming from more parts of China.

“If you recently returned from Hubei province and have a fever, please call your health care provider,” she said on the telebriefing. “We want you to get checked out.”

On the medical front, CDC has posted the genetic blueprint for a rapid diagnostic test for the virus, still being validated, which it hopes to share with health departments and international partners in the coming weeks.

Last week, the Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations announced a $12.5 million effort to develop a vaccine against the coronavirus, split among three firms. In the best-case scenario, immunologist Barney Graham of the NIH’s National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Disease (NIAID) told Science magazine, a vaccine would be ready for testing in people by next summer.

Deploying a vaccine will depend on the state of the outbreak when it is developed, NIAID Director Anthony Fauci said at a news conference on Tuesday. His institute hopes to start safety tests of a candidate vaccine by April. “We are proceeding on the worst-case basis that we will need a vaccine,” he said.

Sahred From Source link Science

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2uKTBBH via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes

cbdchoice-blog · 6 years ago

Text

How CBD Oil Helps with PTSD

Post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD, most commonly seen in war veterans nowadays. It includes uncontrolled and unbearable flashback of previous traumatic experiences which ultimately results in a scary level of anxiety and pain. Today many recent researches and studies conducted by scientific community shows that Cannabidiols or CBD found on the cannabis plant are highly effective in PTSD treatment. CBD are effective at lessening the emotional impact of traumatic events and can help patients experience less anxiety and fear which gives them relief from pain and improves their sleep. Understanding PTSD Before talking about PTSD treatment, let’s try to understand the causes and symptoms of PTSD. According to American Psychiatric Association Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a psychiatric disorder that can occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, a serious accident, a terrorist act, war/combat, rape or other violent personal assaults. Though PTSD is a common threat to war veterans, it can effect common people of any ethnicity, nationality, culture, or age. In PTSD diagnosis direct or indirect exposure to an upsetting traumatic event is observed in the first hand. Numerous methods have been used to treat the symptoms of PTSD throughout the past years. psychotherapy and pharmaceutical medication are traditional methods for PTSD treatment. Today CBD as a treatment of PTSD is emerging successfully. Symptoms and Diagnosis of PTSD The inherent characteristics of any psychiatric disorders makes them hard to diagnose; according to professionals a patient diagnosed with PTSD if he/she has experienced all of the following symptoms for at least a month. Re-experiencing past traumatic symptoms: Flashbacks, bad dreams, frightening thoughts or anything that may cause problems in a person’s everyday routine. Words, objects, or situations can trigger re-experiencing symptoms. Avoidance symptom: Avoiding thoughts, feelings, places, events or objects that reminds a person of a traumatic event can trigger an avoidance symptom. These symptoms cause a person to change his or her personal routine, such as avoiding cars after a car accident.Over excitement and reactivity symptoms: Reactivity simply refers to reactions such as “lashing out” in relation to irritability and being triggered by seemingly nothing. Arousal symptoms, on the other hand, are constant. This would be referring to symptoms such as difficulties concentrating or insomnia. These symptoms cause stress and anger, and may cause difficulty eating, sleeping or concentrating. These symptoms are usually related to the anxiety, insomnia and outbursts connected to PTSD.Cognition and mood symptoms: These symptoms begin or worsen after a traumatic experience, but are not due to any injury sustained in the event. The symptoms include loss of enjoyment, distorted feelings, negative and pessimistic thoughts, and trouble recalling significant features of the event. Side effects and problems of traditional medication: Side-effects: United States Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has approved sertraline (Zoloft) and paroxetine (Paxil), both antidepressants, for use as post-traumatic stress disorder medication. The side effects of these drugs include: HeadacheNauseaSleeplessness or drowsinessAgitation or a jittery feelingProblems having or enjoying sex Physicians also prescribes medications like Zoloft and Paxil genre medications. According the US National Institute of Health (NIH), benzodiazepines are also used to give relaxation and sleep to patients. The side effects of these 3 types of drugs include, problems with memory and the risk of drug dependency. Antipsychotics may be prescribed. They are typically given to patients with coexisting conditions, such as schizophrenia. Some side effects of antipsychotics are weight gain and a higher risk of heart disease and diabetes. Additionally, other antidepressants may be used as PTSD drugs. Possible options are fluoxetine (Prozac) and citalopram (Celexa). In addition to the side effects already listed, the following side effects may occur: Dry mouthIncreased appetiteBlurred visionDizziness PTSD Drug Addiction, Dependence and Withdrawal illness: The Journal of the American Academy of Family Physicians warns about the abuse risk of benzodiazepines. When taken chronically, they can be addictive but they are relatively safe when taken in moderation. If you have a history of substance abuse, benzodiazepines should not be used. It is important that you not cease taking your medication as this can cause withdrawal effects and lead to recurrence of the symptoms of your illness. Medication Overdose: The New York Times of February 14,2011 carries the disturbing news of an alarming increase in deaths from accidental overdose among our active duty military personnel and our war veterans. The usual scenario is a diagnosis of PTSD unsuccessfully treated with a wide array of psychotropic drugs, which in their aggregate, wind up killing the patient-- often at a very young age. Autopsy reveals significant blood levels of prescribed medication reflecting the heavy drug cocktail and no other apparent cause of death. PTSD are often prescribed a combination of psychotropics that may include--one antidepressant, one antipsychotic, one antianxiety, one sleep, and one pain medicine. Sometimes, the enormous medication burden is worsened even further--either by the simultaneous prescription of more than one drug from a given class or the additional self-medication effected by the sharing of pills among patients. With this wide range of medication comes with their own side effects and often cause overdose eventually resulting in death. Using CBD for PTSD There is no ideal drug treatment for PTSD sufferers, clinical or preclinical. However, studies suggest that the endocannabinoid system, which plays an essential role in maintaining emotional homeostasis and in regulating memory retrieval, consolidation and most importantly extinction, is a possible and ideal target to treat both the emotional and cognitive characterizations of PTSD. Martin Lee, a researcher of the Multidisciplinary Association of Psychedelic Research, found people with PTSD had uniformly lower levels of an endocannabinoid called anandamide compared to controls. The experience of PTSD appeared to reset their baseline endocannabinoids at a lower level permanently. Endocannabinoids are involved in regulating dozens of biological and psychological functions, so addressing this deficiency through the highly refined chemistry of cannabis, people experiencing the diverse effects of PTSD can find relief. The endocannabinoid system, first discovered in 1992 by Israeli researcher Dr. Ralph Mechoulam, is made up of two main receptors. These receptors, cannabinoid 1 (CB1) and cannabinoid 2 (CB2), were found to be an integral part of all human and animal physiologies, and are only configured to accept cannabinoids, especially tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) and cannabidiol (CBD). These receptors have been found to modulate the release of neurotransmitters and produce a wide range of effects on the central nervous system, including pleasure and the alteration of the memory process. Research suggests that the cannabinoids found in CBD have the ability to work in conjunction with the cannabinoid receptors to block the continuous retrieval of traumatic events and reduce the anxieties associated with it. Why CBD is so Helpful for PTSD The cannabis plant contains more than 100 different chemical compounds known as cannabinoids, which interact with the body's endocannabinoid system. Cannabidiol or CBD is the most famous among them for having hundreds of medical benefits. So, Cannabidiol—CBD—is a cannabis compound that has remarkable medical and recreational benefits, but does not make people feel “High”. It can actually prevent the psychoactivity of THC. Cannabidiol is one of at least 100 active cannabinoids identified in cannabis. It is a major phytocannabinoid, accounting for up to 40% of the plants extract. The fact is that CBD-infused cannabis strains are non-psychoactive or less psychoactive than THC-dominant strains. It’s made CBD products a good option for patients looking for relief from inflammation, pain, anxiety, psychosis, seizures, spasms, and other conditions without disconcerting feelings of lethargy or dysphoria. In particular, CBD has been shown to be effective for PTSD. CBD and PTSD aren’t always associated together but CBD has shown to help. CBD does not directly stimulate the endocannabinoid system. Instead, it acts by inhibiting the enzymes that break down the endocannabinoids, much like an MAOI works by blocking serotonin destruction. This raises the levels of anandamide and symptoms are relieved. Furthermore, because CBD does not directly stimulate the CB1 receptor in the brain, it is not intoxicating. It doesn’t get you high; it just brings relief. No impairment. No sleepiness. No effects that may prevent you from working or participating in society. Recent Studies on CBD’s Effect on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: These studies showed evidence of how effective CBD is in PSTD treatment. These are all available in govt sites. PTSD patients saw a 75% reduction in PTSD symptoms, as measured by the Clinical Administered Post Traumatic Scale, when they were using cannabis compared to when they were not. (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/24830188) Evidence from human studies indicates that CBD found in cannabis has considerable potential as a treatment for anxiety disorders. (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/26341731) A review of published evidence finds that cannabinoids help PTSD patients manage the condition’s three major symptoms (re-experiencing, avoidance and numbing, hyperarousal) and helps improve sleep in those PTSD patients suffering from insomnia and nightmares. (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/26195653) Repeated CBD administration prevents the long-lasting anxiogenic effects observed after predator exposure probably by facilitating 5HT1A receptors neurotransmission. Our results suggest that CBD has beneficial potential for PTSD treatment and that 5HT1A receptors could be a therapeutic target in this disorder. (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22979992) case report of a 19-year-old male patient with a spectrum of severe PTSD symptoms, such as intense flashbacks, panic attacks, and self-mutilation, who discovered that some of his major symptoms were dramatically reduced by smoking cannabis resin…This review shows that recent studies provided supporting evidence that PTSD patients may be able to cope with their symptoms by using cannabis products. Cannabis may dampen the strength or emotional impact of traumatic memories through synergistic mechanisms that might make it easier for people with PTSD to rest or sleep and to feel less anxious and less involved with flashback memories. The presence of endocannabinoid signalling systems within stress-sensitive nuclei of the hypothalamus, as well as upstream limbic structures (amygdala), point to the significance of this system for the regulation of neuroendocrine and behavioural responses to stress. Evidence is increasingly accumulating that cannabinoids might play a role in fear extinction and antidepressive effects. (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22736575) CBD both acutely inhibited fear expression and enhanced extinction to produce longer lasting reductions in fear. These observations provide further support for the potential translational use of CBD in conditions such as post-traumatic stress disorder and specific phobias. (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5101100/) The main finding from this case study is that CBD oil can be an effective compound to reduce anxiety and insomnia secondary to PTSD. This case study provides clinical data that support the use of cannabidiol oil as a safe treatment for reducing anxiety and improving sleep in a young girl with post-traumatic stress disorder. (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5101100/) CBD, PTSD & YOU: Unlike THC, CBD provides the same medical benefits of hemp plants without experiencing a high. The positive effects of CBD can help PTSD patients manage the core symptoms of the condition which include re-experiencing, avoidance, and hyperarousal. CBD has become an alternative to traditional drug and psychotherapy treatments in recent years and at least 24 states have approved CBD and cannabinoids for treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder. Frequently used for coping purposes by combat veterans, CBD has proven to be a suitable replacement for traditional drugs in treating emotional regulation, stress tolerance, irregular sleeping patterns, nightmares, social anxieties and lessening the effects of triggers. While there is no cure for PTSD, CBD is a suitable replacement, backed by medical research, for both drug and psychotherapeutic means of controlling and treating symptoms. Traditionally, PTSD is very difficult to treat due to the plethora of symptoms. While most treatment options only focus on treating a few symptoms, CBD has the ability to treat a wide range of symptoms associated with the disorder. It has the ability to reduce anxiety, help with depression, fight insomnia, and reduce or eliminate flashbacks without the risk of possible substance abuse. Final Words: So, now we have it, a current look at how CBD and PTSD is becoming mutually beneficial terms instead of unknown ones. It is encouraging that more and more PTSD patients are choosing CBD as a way to at least take the edge off their pain, depression and anxiety while steadily reducing the amount of prescription meds that they have been prescribed. It’s obvious to all of us who use cannabidiol that CBD improves our quality of life as well as helping to heal our nervous system naturally instead of dealing with unwanted side effects of the aforementioned SSRI’s and SNRI’s. In fact, all 113+ cannabinoids found in Cannabis are proven safe and non-addictive. CBD has no psycho-active properties (no high or euphoria) and is often recommended by health professionals for children for countless ailments and diseases ranging from PTSD, ADD/ADHD to asthma and epilepsy. CBD products are found with increasing frequency to be preferred by patients of all ages over prescription medication and the countless negative side effects that comes with all of them. If the list of side effects from prescription medications seems antithetical to the discoveries from post-modern medical science, Any way you look at it, the Veterans Administration is and has been for too long complicit in not only obfuscation of the truth about Cannabis, but withholding of proper medical care and general medical malpractice – the extent of which is only now being exposed. The question persists… How far down the rabbit hole do we have to go to determine the true extent of medical malpractice, insurance fraud, and Big Pharma/U.S. Government collusion that has permeated our medical system? PSTD, CBD, Side-effects, Experience References: Akirav, I. (2013). Targeting the endocannabinoid system to treat haunting traumatic memories. Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience, 7, 124. Retrieved from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3776936/. Betthauser, K., Pilz, J., and Vollmer, L.E. (2015, August). Use and effects of cannabinoids in military veterans with posttraumatic stress disorder. American Journal of Health-System Pharmacy, 72(15), 1279-84. Blessing E.M., Steenkamp, M.M., Manzanares, J., and Marmar, C.R. (2015, September 4). Cannabidiol as a Potential Treatment for Anxiety Disorders. Neuotherapeutics, Epub ahead of print. Retrieved from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/26341731. Boden, M.T., Babson, K.A., Vujanovic, A.A., Short, N.A., and Bonn-Miller, M.O. (2013, May-June). Post-traumatic stress disorder and cannabis use characteristics among military veterans with cannabis dependence. The American Journal on Addictions, 22(3), 277-84. Bonn-Miller, M.O., Babson, K.A., and Vandrey, R. (2014, March 1). Using cannabis to help you sleep: heightened frequency of cannabinoids use among those with PTSD. Drug and Alcohol Dependence, 136, 162-5. Bonn-Miller, M.O., Vujanovic, A.A., and Drescher, K.D. (2011, September). Cannabis use among military veterans after residential treatment for posttraumatic stress disorder. Psychology of Addictive Behavior, 25(3), 485-91. Campos, A.C., Ferreira, F.R., and Guimaraes, F.S. (2012, November). Cannabidiol blocks long-lasting behavioral consequences of predator threat stress: possible involvement of 5Ht1A receptors. Journal of Psychiatric Research, 46(11), 1501-10. Greer, G.R., Grob, C.S., and Halberstadt, A.L. (2014, January-March). PTSD symptom reports of patients evaluated for the New Mexico Cannabinoids Program. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs, 46(1), 73-7. Passie, T., Emrich, H.M., Karst, M., Brandt, S.D., and Halpern, J.H. (2012, July-August). Mitigation of post-traumatic stress symptoms by Cannabis resin: a review of the clinical and neurobiological evidence. Drug Testing and Analysis, 4(7-8), 649-59. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). (2014, April 15). Mayo Clinic. Retrieved from http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/basics/definition/con-20022540. Potter, C.M., Vujanovic, A.A., Marshall-Verenz, E.C., Bernstein, A., and Bonn-Miller, M.O. (2011, April). Posttraumatic stress and Cannabis use coping motives: the mediating role of distress tolerance. Journal of Anxiety Disorders, 25(3), 437-43. Trezza, V., and Campolongo, P. (2013, August 9). The endocannabinoid system as a possible target to treat both the cognitive and emotional features of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience, 7, 100. Walsh, Z., Gonzalez, R., Crosby, K., S Thiessmen, M., Carroll, C., and Bonn-Miller, M.O. (2016, October 12). Medical cannabis and mental health: A guided systematic review. Clinical Psychology Review, 51, 15-29. What is Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)? (n.d.). National Institute of Mental Health. Retrieved from http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/index.shtml. https://www.istss.org/about-istss.aspx https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21307846 https://www.ptsd.va.gov/public/treatment/therapy-med/treatment-ptsd.asp http://www.militarywithptsd.org/ptsd-changes-thinking/ https://www.hellomd.com/answers/57d06528ffcc7c00096a41d4/the-right-dosage-of-cbd http://woundedwarriorhomes.org/ptsd?gclid=CPHMqO2bqtMCFZBlfgodzWUFIQ Read the full article

#CBDforPTSD #cbdoil

0 notes

allyinthekeyofx · 8 years ago

Text

GENESIS Chapter 25 & 26

#genesis #my fic #casefile

9 notes · View notes

forresthom-blog · 6 years ago

Text

13/03/19 Making Sense of America’s Bloodiest Fields: Visiting Antietam and Fredericksburg

Many Civil War battlefields are now National Parks; they are maintained and protected for posterity and education. It is all well and good reading about the gentle slopes of Marye’s Heights at Fredericksburg - or the narrowness of Burnside’s Bridge at Antietam - but to really understand the lie of the land, these sites have to be experienced in person. Seeing, walking and immersing oneself in the historical geography of the battlefields allows one to begin to slowly piece together a deeper understanding and empathy towards the events that happened there over one-hundred-and-fifty years ago.

On Monday, I took a train ride an hour and a half south of Washington, DC to Fredericksburg, Virginia. Virginia seceded (the act of a state leaving the Union of the United States of America) and joined the Confederate States of America in May 1861. Fredericksburg had been a prosperous town of around five thousand inhabitants before the war. It was located almost precisely halfway between the two capital cities of the warring parties: Washington to the north, and Richmond to the south. Yet, between the 11th and 15th of December 1862, the town was not filled with the bustle of commerce. Instead, Fredericksburg was filled with the roar of battle; the smell of gunpowder, smoke and flesh; as the town’s pre-war order was shattered instaneously.

The Rappahannock River separated the Union from the Confederates before the battle. The river is wide twice as wide as this picture shows because the trees to the left of the river (the southside) are on an island in the middle of the water. On the 11th and 12th of December Union engineers struggled to establish pontoon bridges to allow troops and wagons to pass into the town. Confederate sharpshooters and artillery made their already difficult job much harder and very dangerous.

In friendly territory and on the defensive, by the 13th of December the Confederates (commanded by the famous General Robert E. Lee) were ready and waiting for the Union on the ridgeline of Marye’s Heights behind the town. The ridge is small but large enough to have been a formidable target for the Union. In front of the ridge is a road, sunken into the ground by decades of use by carts, horses and people - forming a ready-made trench for Confederate infantry to be concealed. In front of the infamous Sunken Road was an open field (it is now covered with houses). However, today it is still possible to see how challenging this open terrain would have been to cover. It spans two blocks and gently slopes upwards towards Marye’s Heights. A small dip in the middle offers some cover, but otherwise the men were in full view of the infantry in the Sunken Road and the artillery cannons placed atop Marye’s Heights.

The above photo is mine of the same view as that of the famous wartime photographer Matthew Brady’s. Brady’s picture shows the Confederate dead behind the wall of the Sunken Road. They had relentlessly witheld the Union from overrunning their positions and forced them into retreat. Yet, the ultimate price was paid nonetheless by the unfortunate men above.

Image Source: National Archives and Records Administration

Until visiting Frederckisburg, it was difficult to appreciate the nature of the open, gently sloping killing field across which the Union had to cross and the strength of the Confederate positions at the Sunken Road and Marye’s Heights. Furthermore, it helped me understand the difficulties the Amulance Corps will have faced in removing wounded men during the daylight and how during the night they will have had to refrain from using any light sources to avoid being easily spotted by sentinels along the high ground.

I also visited Chatham House on the northside of the Rappanhannock. It was where the military and medical departments set up their headquarters. The room where you can now watch a film about the history of the grand manor house was once used by surgeons tending the wounded of Fredericksburg. Poet Walt Whitman visited in search of his brother and wrote:

“Outdoors, at the foot of a tree, within ten yards of the front of the house, I noticed a heap of amputated feet, legs, arms, hands, etc. - about a load for a one-horse cart. Several dead bodies lie near, each covered with its brown woolen blanket... the house is quite crowded... all the wounds pretty bad, some frightful, the men in their old clothes, unclean and bloody”.

Time and time again, ambulances will have crossed the swaying pontoon bridges and raced up the winding track to Chatham House: carrying their sorry and broken load. Those lucky enough to survive their ordeals at Chatham will have endured a longer ambulance ride back to the hospitals at Alexandria and Washington.

On Tuesday, I visited the fantasticly well-curated and comprehensive National Museum of Civil War Medicine in Frederick, Maryland and then went to the site of the Battle of Antietam a short drive to the north-west. I would like to thank Terry Reimer from the museum for answering my questions and her handy pointers towards some extra sources to embellish my dissertation. I am also incredibly thankful to my expert guide, driver and friend Jeff Joyce for making the trip possible and talking me through the Antietam battlefield.

The museum recreated a scene of the loading of an ambulance by a ambulance corpsman and two hospital stewards. The hospital stewards are noticable with their green half chevron with yellow piping and cadeceus on their arm. They, like the ambulance corpsman, also have a green band around their cap. Unique uniform markers for medical personnel marks them out from the rest of the men. They are instantly recognisable as different to the ordinary soldier. Differences to their uniform and role gives them a specific identity, as defined by their membership of the Ambulance Corps or wider medical department.

The Battle of Antietam was fought on the 17th of September 1862. It was the end of summer and a warm day. The day before, the Union had repelled the Confederates from the South Mountain - pushing them back through gaps in the ridgeline. To simplify, the battle was fought on three individual fronts. The cornfield to the north, the Sunken Road in the middle (yes, another, but different Sunken Road!), and Burnside’s Bridge to the south.

This photo shows the edge of the North Woods and the cornfield beyond it. The Union advanced forwards from here towards the Confederates who were positioned at the otherside of the cornfield. In the summer of 1862, the corn was fully grown. Today’s corn grows to well-over head height. However, in 1862, corn grew to shoulder height. As the Union advanced, their heads were perfectly visible targets. Yet, by the end of the day, thousands of bullets had obliterated the corn and the field looked as though it had been harvested with a razor against the earth.

Antietam saw total casualties (killed, wounded and missing/captured) for both sides of 22,720. The 17th of September 1862 in the bloodiest day on American soil in history. For the entire twelve hours of battle, a man fell killed or wounded more than once every two seconds. It was the first time the Letterman System of ambulance provision was put into effect on a large scale since its introduction the month before. Letterman ordered hundreds of ambulances to make sure he would have enough. The extra preparation paid off. All wounded men who could be reached were removed within twenty four hours of battle.

The top photo shows Jeff and me at Burnside’s Bridge on the southern end of the battlefield. The bridge was seen as a key strategic target for the Union to seize from the Confederates. Jeff and I are stood on the hill the Confederates occupied. The bridge is very narrow and was a choke point that proved highly difficult to overcome. The bridge is named after General Ambrose E. Burnside, pictured in the lower photo. Burnside pressed head on at the bridge repeatedly until he took it. However, no sooner had he taken it, he was flanked by the Confederate forces of AP Hill and pushed right back across it again.

From the photo of Burnside, we can admire his highly enviable and fashionable facial hair! In fact, the sideburns he sports were not known as sideburns until he sported them. His iconic look led to the style of facial hair to be known as Burnsides. At the start of the 1900s, the name flipped to sideburns - which sticks to this day!

Image Source: Library of Congress (Prints and Photographs Division)

Being in the landcape where Civil War battles took place helps enormously in understanding and visualising the environment described by those who were there. It is possible to see how much courage it took to charge headlong into the flashing muskets of the enemy and how difficult it was to transport the wounded across undulating terrain, so close and in full view of hostile lines.

To finish, I will again show another pair of ‘now’ and ‘then’ photos. Being in the spots where terrible events occurred over a century and a half ago is powerful, but we are separated by the healing and numbing powers of time. When viewing such images and visiting such places it takes considerable effort to try and imagine the unimaginable suffering and sorrow felt in the past. The pictures of Brady and Gardner (the photographer of the photo below) were displayed at studios and in publications across the North. They showed war in a way the public at home had never seen it before. Friends and family were shocked and appalled by the distinct lack of beauty and honour in war. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem “Killed at the Ford” says:

That fatal bullet went speeding forth / Till it reached a town in the distant North

If the bullet that took the life of a soldier in the field could destroy the lives of loved ones in the North, the image that fell on a photographer’s plate could burn itself into the retina and form an unshakable memory in any observers who then demanded that soldiers be properly cared when wounded and dying to prevent further unnecessary loss.

Dunker Church, Antietam Battlefield. Confederate bodies lie waiting for burial in the days after the battle has finished.

Image Source: Library of Congress (Prints and Photographs Division)

0 notes

joeybelle · 8 years ago

Text

Starlight - Cassian Andor x OFC Chapter 2

Relationship: Cassian Andor/Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Romance, Slow Burn, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Foul Language

Read on AO3: Starlight

Summary: Cora is a doctor on an Imperial class Star Destroyer when a wounded rebel barges into the med bay. Having wanted to leave the Empire for a while now, she decides to save his life in exchange for a lift out of there.

Author’s note: English is not my native language, so there may be some mistakes that either I or my lovely beta @hostoyevsky might have missed. Any feedback is much appreciated, any questions you may have, I will be glad to answer. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Cora woke up with a pounding headache and the sinking feeling that something bad was about to happen. She tentatively opened her eyes but her vision was blurry and her head was spinning, so she couldn’t identify her surroundings. She was surprised and a little frightened to find out that her arms felt like they had been tied together and she wasn’t able to move them. What the fuck, she thought, not remembering what had happened.

“Corinthia Enoch,” she heard a strangely familiar voice say in a mildly annoying accent. Why did it annoy her?

She made a conscious effort to focus on what was going on in front of her, which only intensified her headache so she held her eyes shut for a few moments, hoping she wouldn’t vomit. Once her head stopped spinning and her vision cleared, the reality of what she had gotten herself into hit her like a freight train. She had betrayed the Empire, left her old life behind and ran away with a sketchy dude. If only this was a romance so they would write books based on her life. But no, this was a very unpleasant comedy.

“That’s my name,” she replied and her voice sounded coarse and distant. She pulled on her hands trying to free herself but found out they were tied to a metal bar. The zip tie that was fastened around her wrists looked sturdy and was so tight that she had no hope to just wiggle free. She sighed and mentally hit herself over the head.

“A quite terrifying name,” he spoke, and Cora could feel the hate in his voice. “The whole galaxy knows it.”

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s not me they fear,” she said, looking him in the eye.

He was standing near the command post, his back turned to the controls, the black droid peeking over his shoulder. She noticed he had changed out of the imperial uniform and was now wearing a tan shirt and brown pants. How long had she been out if he had time to change? Also, what the fuck was he doing with an imperial droid? Was he a spy for the Empire, pretending to be a rebel just to see who would betray? Cora’s blood froze for a second. No, she said to herself. His wound was real. No one would put that much effort in staging this just so they could get to her.

“Is it so?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Aren’t you the daughter of Admiral Alastor Enoch, one of the most ruthless imperial dogs, commander of the star destroyer Corinthia?” He took a step closer, but still kept a safe distance, like Cora could pull out a blaster out of her ass at any time and shoot him.

“You’re talking to me about my father, but you’re not telling me what I’ve done wrong. Last time I’ve checked, I was nice enough to save your life. You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you nothing,” he hissed.

“Really? Cause I remember you almost bleeding to death on the infirmary floor!” she yelled, losing her temper. “And don’t think for a second that you would have made it to your ship without my help, you ungrateful bastard!”

“Is that true, Cassian?” the droid asked him, throwing him what Cora supposed was an inquisitive look. She could never guess what the droids were thinking.

“Not now.”

“Oh, so your name is Cassian. Nice to meet you Cassian. Actually, I deeply regret meeting you Cassian. Go fuck yourself.” Oh she was bitter. So bitter that the only thing she wanted was to connect her boot with his face repeatedly until she felt satisfied. She actually considered lunging at him and trying her luck, even if that meant breaking both her wrists. Unfortunately, he was keeping a safe distance from her.

“Listen,” she continued, this time trying to keep her anger in check. “I’m just a medic. Not even a combat medic, I only see the fight if someone attacks the ship, and even if that happens I just wait for it to end since medical personnel don’t have weapons and aren’t expected to fight. Don’t make me the target of your rage.”

“You did have a blaster when you came in here,” the droid let her know.

“That is my personal weapon, it’s only meant for emergencies.”

“I wonder how much Admiral Enoch would pay to get his daughter back,” Cassian said, his eyes still burning with controlled rage.

“Admiral Enoch doesn’t give a shit about his daughter, I assure you. He never did, and never will. As for the Empire, I was dead for them the moment I left that star destroyer. They’ll never make an effort to get one of their doctors back, we’re disposable.” Fear was starting to creep on her. If he decided to try to sell her back to the Empire they would both be dead in no time. “Are you a bounty hunter?” There was also the chance that he would want to sell her on the black markets. With so many enemies of the Empire a lot of people would be glad to get their hands on an admiral’s daughter. Cora was frightened of what they would do if they succeeded.

“And if I am?” he grinned and Cora hated him a little more.

“Well, then we could negotiate.” She responded to his grin with a grimace.

“You arrogant imperial scum. Thinking you can buy your way out of everything.” He took a few steps closer and was now looking down on her. Cora fought the urge to try and heatbutt him.

“My life is all I have,” she pleaded in the end. “I’m no one in this war you are fighting. I’m just doing my job, surviving, like everyone else. I’ve never killed anyone, it’s not my fault that my father is an admiral or that he named a warship after me. I just want to live a normal life away from it all. Please, just let me go.”

He looked her in the eye like he was trying to read something in her gaze. “It’s not my place to judge. The Alliance will have to decide what’s going to happen to you.” He turned around and got back to the control panel.

“Wait! You’re taking me to the Rebellion?” she yelled, with renewed fear. If the Empire would execute her in the blink of an eye, the Rebellion wouldn’t waste that much time either.

“Yes,” was the only thing he said as he sat in the pilot’s chair.

“But you made a deal with me,” she pleaded again, “that you’d drop me off someplace safe.” Her voice was weak as she was losing hope.

“I never said that.” He turned around and looked at her. “I said I’d get you out of there, and I’ve kept my end of the bargain. I never said I’d let you go.”

Whatever remained of Cora’s heart just sunk to the depths of hell. She hated herself for being so naive and thinking someone was actually going to care about her once in her life. The world wasn’t made of daisies and she was all alone.

“And I was stupid enough to actually think you could be nice,” she said to herself.

“Yes you were,” came the droid’s reply.

“Thanks.”

The planet they landed on was covered in rainforests from what she could see. She had never been to the jungle before so she was surprised how humid the air was and how difficult to breathe. The fact that she had lived most of her life on spaceships with controlled climate didn’t make it any easier. She started to sweat uncontrollably the moment she got off the ship.

The base was a huge stone structure that may or may not have been a temple a long time ago. Cora couldn’t identify it. She had never paid too much attention in history classes and was starting to regret it. At least she could have guessed the name of the planet that will be her final resting place.

Cassian, who had replaced the zip tie around her wrists with a pair of handcuffs, was now walking behind her, pointing a blaster at her back. Cora did her best to keep her head up high and her vision unfocused as she walked through the Rebel base, avoiding as many stares as she could. She was sure they hadn’t publicly announced she was coming, but even so they could see the imperial crest embroidered on her uniform and wonder who she was. An Imperial prisoner brought to base. Cora had never felt so humiliated in her life.

They entered the hangar that seemed to occupy most of the base level, took an elevator up and walked through a few corridors until they reached a rather large room where some important looking people had gathered. Cora’s heart was beating so fast it was threatening to break out of her rib cage, but she did her best to appear unfazed. She felt like a little girl taken to trial for crimes she hadn’t committed, and the judges didn’t seem friendly.

There were a few people she noticed first: a red haired woman dressed in a long robe and a grumpy dude with a huge forehead, that were standing out in the crowd. Cora stopped in front of them, trying to gather what was left of her composure.

“You must be Corinthia Enoch, daughter of Admiral Alastor Enoch, am I right?” the red haired woman addressed her. Cora nodded but didn’t say a word. “My name is Mon Mothma and I am the leader of the Alliance.”

“Pleasure,” she replied in a monotone voice.

“We have been informed that you have willingly betrayed the Empire,” she continued. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re asking me why I ran away from the Empire? You’re the ones fighting against it, you know full well what it can do,” Cora spat at her. “Is it so surprising that I wanted to leave?” She knew she should stay humble, but her anger was getting the best of her.

“It is surprising that a daughter of a well known imperial officer has left the Empire, yes. It makes us question the sincerity of this act.”

“Listen… ma’am. I’m a doctor.” She tried changing her tone to a softer one. “The only reason I’m a military doctor is because my whole family has been in the army for generations, and it was somewhat expected of me to do the same. I’ve never done anything for the Empire other than heal people. It just happens that I ended up seeing the cruelty they can show and I no longer want to be a part of it.”

“She’s a spy they’ve sent to infiltrate the Alliance,” the human frown finally spoke and Cora felt like she already hated him. Which she probably did. Along with everyone else in that room.

“I’m a doctor and I don’t give a shit about your Alliance,” Cora barked at him. “Ma’am, the only thing I wanted was to get out of there, get to a remote, safe place where no one knew me and herd goats for the rest of my life. Peaceful, quiet life. So please, just let me go.” The frown snorted.

“I am sorry, but we can’t do that,” the woman replied. “As general Draven said, you may be a spy and we can’t risk you disclosing the location of our base to our enemies.” The woman was looking down on her and Cora felt like she was losing it.

“I’m not a spy! Please stop saying that. And I have absolutely no idea where this fucking base is.” She took a deep breath. “None of this would have happened if this asshole,” she pointed both of her indexes towards Cassian’s nose, since her hands were bound together, “had kept his word!”

“That man is a Captain in the intelligence department,” the frown yelled at her. “Show some respect.”

“Oh, my sincerest apologies,” Cora replied in a mocking tone. She took a deep breath and regained her composure. “If Captain Asshole had kept his promise and dropped me on a safe planet I wouldn’t be here right now.” She threw him a death glare before she continued. “I never wanted anything to do with you and your war. I just wanted to be away from it all.”

“However,” the woman continued completely ignoring Cora’s outburst, “you could convince us that you aren’t a spy, and if you do, you’d be free to go.”

“And how can I possibly do that?” she asked suddenly paying attention. Maybe she had a chance after all.

“You could prove your loyalty to us by sharing with us some of your inside knowledge of the Empire.”

“I doubt any of my knowledge would be of any interest, but if you want to organize your med bay, I will gladly help you.” She smiled, but it was forced. She was pretty sure this wasn’t what they meant, but she played stupid. A part of her had hoped some of the rebel’s dumb luck had rubbed off on her.

“I didn’t mean your medical knowledge, Corinthia,” the woman said, giving her a stern look.

“You want information about my father.” Cora looked down at her hands and cursed the day when she met that stupid rebel. She had a decent life that permitted her to keep her eyes shut to what was going on in the world. Had her conscience been a little more sleepy, she could have lived her whole life in blissful ignorance. But she knew she couldn’t have done that. Sometimes when she slept she could see the dead from Cheyne 3.

“Yes.”

“I don’t have any information about my father, or his work, that you might find relevant. Most of what I know is already public knowledge and the rest are just childhood memories.” Cora’s voice was monotone, all the anger having dissipated. “You’d be surprised to find out that you may know more than me about him.”

“When was the last time you saw your father?” General forehead had taken over the interrogation.

“About six months ago. We had tea. And no, before you ask, he never talks about his work with me. I don’t have the necessary clearance to know any imperial business.” She smiled, but it was more of a grimace.

“Do you know his whereabouts?” he continued, same frown on his face.

“Nope. I never do. He is the one that comes to visit me, once in a blue moon.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but it sounded sad to her own ears. “I guess he’s on ISD Corinthia, somewhere in space.” She smiled that dumb smile again to hide her discomfort.

“But you do have a way of contacting him.”

It wasn’t a question, and Cora felt a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew that they would try to use her to get to her father, after all, she was only valuable because of him, but she hoped it would be later than sooner. Now she was afraid. How long will she be able to take torture before she’ll give up and tell them everything? Even if it wasn’t much, she had been honest when she told them she didn’t know anything about his work, but the little things she knew were valuable to her. Her father had done terrible things, she was aware of that, but even if she hated him sometimes for what he represented, he was still her father.

“I’m not gonna betray him.”

“You know full well who he is and you chose to cover for him?”

“He’s my father, general,” she said, looking him in the eye. “Not the best father in the world, not the most present. I know he wouldn’t lift a finger to get me out of here, but you know what, he’s still my father. I know one day this war will get him killed, I’ve accepted that a long time ago, but I’m not gonna be the one that pulls the trigger.”

They were all silent for a moment and Cora felt the overwhelming sensation of everyone looking at her and judging her. Finally Mon Mothma was the one that spoke. Cora was curious what her sentence would be.

“You refuse to give us the information we ask for, even if doing so would win your freedom, Doctor Corinthia Enoch?”

“Yes,” she replied, and her voice echoed through the room, surprising even herself with how resolute it sounded.

“Very well. Take her to her cell.”

Two armed guards grabbed her and guided her out of the room. On her way out she took a moment to shoot another death glare towards Cassian. He looked mildly bored. The nerve.

#cassian andor #cassian andor x ofc #cassian andor x original female character #rogue one #rogue one fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

fuckyeahbadcodocs · 8 years ago

Text

Name: Mira 'Paws' Cole

As callsigns go, I don’t think Paws is half bad. It’s not as grandiose as some that stumble through this door, not edgy and hardcore... It sounds like the kind of nonsense a military faction would hand down to the new kid.

Appearance: Height- 5"9.

There is a desperate need for more lady OCs who are not like 5′2″ every time. I can at least salute the creator for this...

Weight- 134.

...And a sensible weight for someone in the military! A little googling tells me this BMI is in the normal range, if on the smaller side. No one has to give this OC a sandwich for her to run out and kick some tail.

Eye color- Emerald green.

Mmm, unlike my fellow mods, I don’t think using specific descriptors for eyes is a dealbreaker or special snowflake. There’s a lot of shades of green out there. However, I would maybe pick something other than a precious gem to describe a character’s eye color. It’s become a bit of a dead horse at this point.

Hair color- Dark brown.

So far, everything is really good, very low-key. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop to explain why the hell this OC is doing on this page.

Where she serves- U.S. Army Ranger

Recent as it may be, women are slowly entering the ranks of the Rangers through the school, if not actually able to serve in its ranks. Assuming some level of research was put into what it would take for a female OC to break ground like this, we might be onto something.

Now, if you’re all prepared, the other shoe drops... now.

Position- Hired medic/Assassin

Well, medic OCs are old hat at this point, but as long as there’s real research and a plot, I’m not totally opposed to someone examining a side of canon that isn’t totally defined by missions and frontline action--

Wait.

A medic’s first rule is to do no harm... and she is an assassin. Does anyone else see the glaring lack of fundamental understanding of how the military works in that statement, or just me? I’m sure at some point in history or another, a killer has used the disguise of a medical personnel to get closer to a target, but that’s not exactly military standard, not in this day and age.

For that matter, why is the US Army hiring assassins when they have some of the most elite fighting forces on the planet? Any one of Ramirez’s team could easily take up a sniper rifle and hang out for a few hours waiting for a good shot. The Army does not need assassins in the classical sense. It would be much more sensible if this OC was freelance, PIC, or maybe even part of a CIA that is far darker than the average Modern Warfare civilian accounts for.

But for your baseline US Army attache, this is going well over the line. It renders basically all past praise I put upon the OCs design nearly moot. I can’t even imagine what an international DISASTER it would be if an American medic was outed as a professional, government-sanctioned assassin. It would change the face of warfare, totally flip centuries of regulations about medics and their role on its head. Everything would just go to absolute shit if people trusted to heal and stay out of trouble came out as paid professional killers operating with their government’s blessing.

You can make an OC interesting without relying on secret identities or shocking swerves, or defying basic military roles that leave little hope for a character being an assassin.

History: Mira had never thought she could go to war-and at least experince anything, But now she's been sent over to work as a medic. She'll meet anyone and (oddly) enough; everyone.

The Rangers, Shepherd, Allen, these are characters I can understand an OC rubbing elbows with, given the game and faction in question. Maybe even a brush with Team Metal, if you want to broach MW3 and the fact both Rangers and Delta fought against the Russian invasion on the East Coast. Everyone, though? That’s pushing it. The 141 and the Rangers are never anywhere near each other in game proper to allow for meeting ‘everyone.’

Is Mira surprised? Kind of. Sure she has some crushes on certian people. But this is war, not the love boat.

As opposed to OC/Canon shipping as many people are, so long as it’s not the focal point and overshadowing a much more interesting plot... I personally see no problem with mentioning a character might be interested in someone else. Especially if it’s buffered with the fact ‘hey there’s a war going on, let’s not worry about our alleged sexual tension and instead focus on not. fucking. dying.’

None of this excuses the walking International Shitshow Waiting To Happen, but it’s a surprising touch.

She also earned the name nickname 'Paws', from the wolf paws tatooed and her back, and two small ones on the back of her neck.

That’s not usually how callsign assignments work, it’s usually more of a callback to a memorable incident or a personality trait.

For pure hypotheticals, let’s say Soap once slid off of something during training, or is very thorough about ‘cleaning’ out a room when on ops. Either of these things might lead to teammates alluding to him as ‘Soap,’ either due to his slippery fuck up, or his sheer ‘cleaning’ power. It’s not like teammates looked at Soap’s haircut and just decided ‘You’re Mohawk now.’ There’s more to callsigns and military culture than that.

Personality: Mira is a kind, gentle, and calm soul. But if somthing goes wrong; she; like Dunn would freak out just the same.

For both of her preposterous careers, staying cool is a part of the job description.

A medic has to know how to perform under intense pressure, when the lives of their patients are on the line, sometimes in the middle of a firefight. The military medic career is not one you want to freak out in.

Assassins must master the art of planning -- entrance, loadout, the exact moment they take down the target, and an exit strategy. They have to be veritable ghosts, leaving no trace of themselves, and with the patience to wait sometimes days for one brief moment and then a quick way out. A freak out at any stage of an assassination is a surefire bullet in the chest at best and a trip to a black site in your target’s home country at worst.

Also if shes meant to be calm why the hell would she freak out when a plan goes to shit? Why does everything about this OC oppose prior information?

She has an affectionate side, but tends not to use it. Theres moments where she can be totally awkward.

Why? Why any of that? I know I harp on explanations in just about every review I do, but I’m just really passionate about OC creators explaining to their audience how and why things work. Personality traits existing at odds with one another are a good reason to have explanations in your profile. If this OC is kind and gentle, why hide her affectionate side? Is she perhaps uncomfortable with overt displays of affection, while still being super sweet and kind to people? Is there a disconnect between her professional personality and her off-duty persona?

Hell if I know, that’s all that’s said for me to analyze.

Also, how awkward are we talking here? ‘My mouth sometimes moves faster than my brain’ awkward, or ‘I was apparently raised in a cave and have no understanding of several normal every day things’ awkward? Much like there are many different shades of green, there are many different flavors of awkward.

Secrets: Mira is a So-Called 'Assassin', as she describes herself, but is labled as a Sniper by others(As she states during Modern Warfare) but tends to lie when someone questions her.

A sniper is not an assassin in the classical sense. A sniper is a part of many military teams, and is in fact basic in certain circumstances. A sniper is a legitimate specialist and would never cross over with medical corps.

A lone sniper might well be an assassin, but a sniper on a military team is usually just that: a sniper. Not an assassin, sure as hell not a medic, but definitely a person who is good at waiting, communicating with their spotter, and shooting OpFor as needed.

This might come as a shock, but I don’t think this OC makes much sense, guys.

On that note, why the hell is she in the original Modern Warfare? The American faction in COD4 was the Marines, not Rangers.

She comes to the Army Rangers (In Modern Wafare 2) posing as a Medic, but still serves as a Sniper, she them keeps her position as an Assassin in Modern Warfare 3, where she is seperated and is now on the hunt for Vladimir Makarov.

If she ‘comes to’ the Rangers in MW2, who was she with originally in MW? Was she supposed to be a freelance assassin that the US Army looked at and said ‘good enough for us?’ I really don’t get this bit, I’m sincerely confused by the sequence of events now.

As for MW3... That’s just poor writing and we all know it. The implication Ramirez and company are out taking the Kremlin, and this OC gets separated from the real party. I’m offended for her.

Other: She hates the way anyone treats attack dogs, she has a way to avoid being attacked by them. In this case, she carries treats to throw them off. Even the most vicious dog can be strayed away when confronted by Mira.

No. No, actually, they can’t. These dogs are broken and remade into fur-covered death machines that exist only to destroy whatever they are pointed at. There is nothing you can do to ‘stray’ them, let along with treats. Maybe if you throw them fresher meat than you, but otherwise I have no idea what would even come close to swaying a legitimate dog of war. They would eat her alive, brutally, and then turn their attention to the other Rangers.

Gory, yes. True, also yes. Attack dogs are not misunderstood babies anymore. They are straight up gone, redesigned to do nothing but kill whoever their kennel master sics them on. Kill or be killed is the only way to deal with an enemy attack dog in the middle of battle. Now excuse me, I have to go hug my own dog for a little bit.

Family: Both her parents died when she was 14, but she made friends with a kid named Chuck Seasons *Aka Chef* and the two became friends and have stayed that way ever since.

Let me guess, a member of this creators OC cadre? Did making friends with this kid cure the ache that is losing both of your parents and being made an orphan as a young teenager?

Animal Companions: Mira owns a black German Shepherd named 'Coach', after her famed basketball coach during middle school.

I’m not sure about this one, but I think this Coach guy’s parents really wanted him to be a coach.

So anyway, Mod M would like to posit this question: Why is it that the best/most down to earth designs always end up being tied to brain-breakingly out of touch with the real world OCs? For that matter, why am I always the one left holding the flaming bag that is these ocs?

#mod m #oc review

2 notes · View notes

agentexeider · 8 years ago

Text

Zootopia: Kaiden’s Story...Chapter 10: Welcome to the 204th

Sorry for the huge delay in my production schedule, the holidays and life came up, hopefully I can start to get back into the swing of things and update more often.

Chapter 10: Welcome to the 204th

A month later…

Kaiden and squad had settled into the nuances of working with the Army, learning how to work with a larger cohesive system. The fiends had been assigned to Kit's squad which was "A" squad of Bravo Company.

The one thing that wasn't expected was the fact that with the 'fiends' now under the auspices of military authority meant that for the first time in a long time, Jarod was not in charge and this was a position he didn't tolerate. After being verbally smacked down by the Major twice, he relented and accepted his fate though it didn't help his disposition on the matter.

Initially it seemed that actual work involved what appeared elementary to the 'fiends', as they were used to more direct actions against many of the MIA's targets, this concept of scouting, the occasional firefight but for the most part, doing what they were told regardless of the apparent nonsensical nature of it was as best described 'Easy'.

Though Jarod would mutter a few incomprehensible phrases about the idea, the occasional understood phrases of "waste of talent" And "beneath us" would come out of his mouth. Everything was going smoothly, until one botched scouting mission, a mission that should have fallen well within the aforementioned difficulty or lack thereof. Yet this time, it was because of a 'difference in style' is how Jarod would describe it.

Two Humvees raced into the camp that had been established, tents and other non permanent structures were dotted in the area, looking around it had a sense of permanence, of structure, like a small village much like the ones they were used to seeing, yet at a moment's notice the whole camp could be packed away and all evidence of their presence left to be buried by a good gust of wind, scattering and burying their pawprints and post holes.

"MEDIC!" called out Kit as his Humvee came to a rapid halt, the dirt crunching under the tires.

The second Humvee containing the rest of his team including the 'fiends' halted just behind them.

As they arrived, medical personnel raced toward them to tend to the wounded. Kit quickly described the nature of each member's injuries. The medics managed to escort those still able to walk into the nearby hospital tent, while those unable, were put on stretchers and carried in. The rapid bustle ended as quickly as it started.

Kaiden jumped out of the vehicle and stepped over to Kit.

"Look I just wanted to say I was sorry that it went down like that," apologized Kaiden.

The fox quickly found himself pinned against the Humvee, the large blonde wolf holding him there, nose to nose, teeth bared and a very surly expression.

"I don't know what they taught you at 'spook school' but the one thing, the one thing we do not do is leave a mammal behind!" exclaimed Kit.

"WE DON'T LEAVE ANYONE BEHIND!" exclaiming louder almost a scream.

"Do you understand that?!" asked Kit, a few dots of saliva spattering against Kaiden's face.

"I'm sorry." Kaiden replied, the only reply he could muster.

It was at this time that they noticed the lynx had stepped out of the Humvee and was standing next to the pair.

"Get your paws off my agent, wolf!" demanded Jarod sternly.

"And don't blame him for the incompetence of your troopers." He added.

Kit's expression of anger turned incredulous as he spun his head to face Jarod

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"You heard me, don't you dare blame you casualties on him, he cannot be held liable for the incompetence of your staff." Said Jarod

Kit spun the rest of himself to face Jarod and took a step towards the lynx.

"Keep talking fucker, and the corpsman will have another casualty to deal with."

"Corporal Ballanger!" called out the Major.

The heads of the group turned in the direction of the voice, the Major was walking fast towards their position and was not happy.

"What in the blue fuck happened out there?!" the major demanded.

"Scouting mission sir, completely FUBAR." Kit replied.

"Let me guess, another difference of opinion in command styles." The major replied looking at Kit and then at Jarod.

The major pointed at the "fiends".

"You four, get your shit and go to your tent, stay there until I come and deal with you…NOW!" He bellowed.

The four gathered their gear and walked away from the Humvees making a line directly for the tent they had been assigned. Leaving Kit to be dressed down by the major.

They had not been sitting five minutes when the major came in. At first they stood up to salute him.

"Don't fucking bother, it's very clear you four don't have any respect for us or what we do. Jarod, we need to talk, come with me."

The Lynx followed the Major to speak in the command tent, Kaiden looked out the tent flap and saw Kit standing outside of the hospital tent, he wanted to finish their conversation. Kaiden approached the wolf. Kit scoffed as he caught sight of the fox.

"Fuck, I don't need any more of this." The wolf turned to go into the tent.

Kaiden quickly stepped in front of him holding out his paws.

"Wait, wait, please. Just let me talk."

"Fine." Kit replied folding his arms.

"Jarod says things sometimes, but I don't agree with it. I'm sorry about what he said, I'm sorry about what happened to your squad."

"Sorry that doesn't change the fact that they're injured or that there is a very good possibility someone might die. Sometimes people make mistakes you just can't take back." Replied Kit.

"I know, and if you only knew what the MIA has had us do…I don't, I mean I thought I knew what things where, the black and white of it. But I've learned that it's anything but. I'm…"

"Conflicted?" asked Kit

"Yeah." Kaiden replied

"Well it sounds like to me you need to come to a decision," stated Kit as he opened the tent flap.

"Decision? About what?" asked Kaiden puzzled.

"About what kind of fox you want to be, because it sounds to me that you have a problem with the MIA and the way they do things. So maybe you need to have a serious moment with yourself and make that decision." Pointed Kit at Kaiden's chest.

"So while you're having your existential crisis, I need to tend to my troopers, excuse me." scoffed Kit as he left Kaiden there with his thoughts.

A few days later…

The major had called all the squad leaders into command tent for a mission briefing. The objective was to make a push into South Mousel to gain strategic ground, with secondary objective to capture any of the high value targets they may find. The latest reports had shown the insurgency was fortifying their positions in the south end of the city and the 204th along with several other battalions were going to be part of this larger offensive push.

After the briefing each squad leader was handed their maps and they went back to their respective squads to pack up their equipment and brief them on their respective portions of the overall mission. Corporal Ballanger had managed to get the two wounded members of his squad replaced with reassignments from Bravo and Charlie.

Several hours later after the encampment had been packed and the Battalion ready to move, Kit along with his squad and the fiends took to their Humvees. Kaiden had decided to ride with Kit this time, still feeling guilty over the troopers that had been "Cas-Evaced" days prior.

As the Battalion pulled out and made their way towards to their destination, the occasional radio chatter breaking the silence, The driver would chat about the strange nature of perception when running on no sleep, at how the sun looked red yet was supposed to be yellow, as well as all other manner of strange conversation brought upon by too much stimulants and not enough sleep.

This was the nature of this job, long stretches of boredom punctuated by frenetic high energy moments and the realization of one wrong moment and death is what waits. Of seemingly perpetual exhaustion but to anxious to actually feel tired, the buzzing of tension in the brain of wanting to be both asleep and awake. There was a palpable tension in the Humvee knowing they were heading towards a major battle.

After some time they started to hear it, the clatter of gunfire, the occasional deep pop of an exploding munition followed by its resonating echo.

"OK, check and charge weapons." Ordered Kit, speaking to the mammals in his vehicle.

Kaiden slid the bolt back on his rifle, and charged a round into the chamber; the mammal to his left checked his S.A.W. (Squad Automatic Weapon) and then stood up and charged the .50 caliber mounted weapon on the roof.

They saw a vehicle up ahead from Alpha company taking fire, the private on the .50 squeezed the trigger, firing in a short burst. "Dakka-Dakka-Dakka" resounded the weapon.

The insurgents took notice to the new players on their field, turning their fire towards Kit's vehicle, the 'pings' and clunks of the weapons fire bouncing off their vehicle, and the occupants taking shots at the insurgents coming into their respective firing arcs. A cacophony of weapons fire.

"Pearson, move left, give me a better angle." Shouted Kit.

The young feline in the driver's seat jerked the wheel left giving Kit, Kaiden and the .50 caliber private on top ample firing opportunity.

The air filled with bullets from their weapons, laying into two windows and a balcony killing the occupants inside.

"Corporal, we got foot-mobiles!" called out the porcine private on the .50.

"Pearson forward, forward!" Kit directed with his paw.

Pearson hit the gas, the engine roared, the Humvee lurching forward trying to get closer to their compatriots, there was a small rubble pile between them and the vehicle.

"Alpha Vehicle, this is Bravo actual, Interrogative, What are you casualties, Over?" Asked Kit over the comms.

Kit quickly checking the list of callsigns on his sheet for Alpha Company.

"Acacia Victor, this is Blackthorn actual, How copy?"

"Shit!" Kit exclaimed once he realized they were unable to respond.

"Pearson, over the rubble pile, put us between them and the fire."

Pearson roared the engine as the thick radials gripped into the rubble and they slowly climbed over. Such a thing would be difficult under normal circumstances, and even more dangerous in a firefight. The Humvee bounced over the rubble, its occupants being thrown side to side as they came down the pile.

Coming into the hail of gun fire as they placed themselves between the shot up vehicle and the insurgents, the members of the humvee returned fire, the boar on the .50 caliber opened up, unleashing the heavy metal fury upon the nearby building, peppering it with holes, occasionally one of the bursts of fire would stop abruptly indicating a kill. Within seconds practically every square inch of the building had bullets flying through it and the firefight came to a dramatic conclusion, the return fire stopped and they waited a moment. Quiet except the distant popping of gunfire though it seemed that their volleys had eliminated this building as a threat.

Kit got out of the vehicle and went to check the other and its occupants. They were all dead, the driver and vehicle C.O. burnt, the other two in the rear of the vehicle dead from several gunshot wounds. Kit took a moment of silence for them before turning to climb back into his vehicle ordering Pearson to move on.

They continued to press their advance along with the other units until they got to their deployment area. Parking the vehicle along the side of the street, they dismounted, taking up line positions behind Kit who was guiding them along the rest of the length of the street. Other soldiers were deploying along their respective streets as well, securing this section of the city. Kit and squad went from door to door, securing the area.

They walked by a store, a parked car in front of it, a convenience store. Kaiden's ear twitched when he heard the click, the next thing he knew, he felt a rush of sensation, he found himself staring up at the sky. Rolling on his side, taking notice of the ringing in his ears. Regaining some of his bearings, thoughts came rushing back to him.

It was an IED, an Improvised Explosive Device, it had been placed in the parked car and one of the squad had triggered it as they passed.

Kaiden could hear muttering, a few loud expletives from nearby, his vision focused as he saw Kit kneeling down tending to Pearson, whom the former dragged the latter into the nearby convenience store, which now had its front window blown out. The feline had a piece of shrapnel tear across his chest and the wolf was doing his best to tend to him, Kit himself had a leg wound that was dripping, staining his tan colored desert fatigues a red hue.

"Come on Pearson, stay with me man, you're going to be alright." said Kit through frantic breath.

Kaiden got up and lurched toward them, as he past the front, Kaiden took notice of what seemed like a pile of fur, a pool of blood and entrails, culminating in a pair of fatigued and booted feet. It was the boar that Kaiden had been sitting next to in the vehicle, he never did get his name. He paced over to Kit and sat on the floor.

Kit had managed to stabilize Pearson, thankfully, or rather incidentally the deeper wound where the shrapnel actually lay lodged in Pearson's shoulder area was hot enough to have cauterized the wound. So long as no one attempted to actually remove said shrapnel it would act as a plug to keep Pearson's blood volume inside him, Kit knew not to even attempt to remove it, for it would start a blood geyser that he wouldn't be able to stop, pouring water over i to irrigate and cool it, and a loose sterile dressing was all that he could do, that and try to keep Pearson conscious. Kaiden was just starting at the fur and blood pile.

"You hurt anywhere?" Kit asked.

Kit clapped his paws once to get Kaiden's attention, who the fox spun his head around.

"What?" he asked.

"I said 'Are you hurt?'"

Kaiden looked down at himself, checking for wounds, not finding any.

"No, I guess I'm just dazed."

"Good, Pearson's not good, I'm going to need to get him 'Cas-Evaced', and I can't carry him out of here."

Kaiden levied his finger at the fur pile.

"What…What happened to…"

"…He took the brunt of the blast, was killed instantly." Kit replied, finishing the fox's thought.

"Help me." Kit requested, pointing towards his own bleeding leg.

Kaiden helped Kit, acting as a second pair of paws, tending to his leg wound, adding a clotting powder to the wound, and kit placing gauze and wrapping his leg tightly in a dressing.

"God damn that stuff burns," grunted Kit.

"Why can't we just get back to the Humvee?" asked Kaiden.

Kit answered that by reaching over and pulling out the key ring from Pearson's chest pocket, holding up the ring. The shrapnel mangled the keys on its way up his chest.

"That answer your question?" groaned Kit.

"Shit." Kaiden replied.

"Yes, and a lot of it, apparently." Kit replied.

"What are we going to do?" asked Kaiden.

Kit thought about it for a moment, trying consider his options but mainly whether to put his life and Pearson's life in the hands of this fox.

"You're going to go get help." Kit stated matter of factly.

"By myself?" asked Kaiden for clarity

"Yep." Kit replied.

"I can't move Pearson and I can't walk, at least not without help. You have to do it," said Kit.

"I won't even get a block before I get picked off," countered Kaiden.

"Yes you can, listen, most of the bad guys we killed just getting in here, as long as you head back north you'll be fine. Besides, you don't have to go all the way back just enough to get a radio call. Backup or a Casevac, which ever you can get your paws on."

"And you'll be alright while I'm gone, right?" asked Kaiden

"Look, I can't predict the future, I have no idea who's going to come through that door, but if you hurry there and back, we can likely all go home. I need you to dig deep on this one. Don't think, just go." Kit replied.

Kaiden mustered himself and grabbed his weapon off the floor. Standing up, his sense of balance returning to him, walking out the blown out window he turned to see Kit and Pearson.

"I promise, I'll be back." He said.

"I'll hold you to it," Kit replied.

Without another word Kaiden started to make his way back up the street. Passing the now useless Humvee, he grabbed a couple extra magazines of ammo, tucking them into his vest. Making his way North again. Walking over to the next block he stuck to the sidewalk, the blown out and shot up buildings, cars they passed on their way in seemed a lot more bleak on the second viewing. Another block northward, he stopped at a corner and tried his radio.

"This is Blackthorn one four to any friendly units, I need assistance, how copy?" spoke Kaiden into his radio.

Letting go of the transmit button he listened to the static that was on the line, hearing the distant rumbles and pops of war around him.

"This is Blackthorm one four to any friendly units, anyone at all, how copy?" he spoke again into the radio.

Craning his head leftward and spotted movement, a squad of about 8 insurgents came walking down the way, they hadn't noticed him. Wide eyed and heart racing, he ran down the block until he found a boarded up living space, the best description would be a small efficiency apartment of one room, and small to boot. He kicked in the door, practically diving inside as he saw the squad come rounding the corner with haste but not to battle him. He closed the door, but in his efforts to gain entry he broke the door and it would not stay closed. Grabbing a nearby chair and propping up against the door keeping it shut but not locked or barricaded by any stretch of the imagination.

If they decided to start trying doors, they would surely find this one open, and a worthy kill inside. Kaiden was stuck, the only window was next to the door facing the street, it was boarded up but leaving enough gaps for rifle barrels. What once was a home to a mammal would now be the perfect killing floor for him, should they find him. Kaiden pressed himself into the farthest corner he could find levying his weapon at the door. The quiet, the heat, the sweat. Kaiden's heart raced, his panting soft but audible, fear racing through him. He could hear them approaching and the thoughts rolling through his head over and over again "Please walk by, please walk by."

Trying to force himself to breathe slower and more quietly made his chest burn as they approached. He could hear them speaking in their guttural native language as they stopped in front of the space. One of the boards popped off and a flashlight beam at the end of a rifle came through the hole, the beam started at the other end of the room. Kaiden dropped to the floor, quickly kneeling behind a wide recliner nearby. Heart pounding in his chest, trying not to second guess, or make any sudden moves. One error here would mean certain death.

The flashlight beam took several sweeps in what seemed like eternity, before just as quickly as it came, it left, gun barrel and all. More soft guttural words and the retreating paw steps of the death squad seemingly satisfied at finding nothing. Kaiden waited several moments after the silence resumed before he could loosen his stance and heave a heavy sigh of relief and the burst of cold sweat that followed. He panted loudly catching his breath, his chest still burning upon each intake. He stood up, grabbing his weapon from off the floor, he carefully walked over to the window, looking out through the new hole from the removed board, scanning the street, no one in sight.

Kaiden practically jumped out of his fur when the radio chirped and words came out of it

"Blackthorn one four, Blackthorn one four, this is Timbermill, how copy?"

Kaiden turned down the radio in his ear, and heaved a small chuckle. "Timbermill" was the code name for battalion headquarters which means they must have heard his transmission.

"Timbermill, holy shit, it's good to hear your voice, this is Blackthorn one four, I need assistance my squad is down, repeat my squad is down. One KIA, two wounded. Both stable but one in critical condition, I need Casevac on the double. How copy?"

A few moments passed before he got a reply.

"Blackthorn one four, switch to coded channel Sierra one dash alpha, break break. "

Kaiden frantically tried to see the selector switches against the dark, switching to the appropriate frequency and coded channel.

"This is Blackthorn one four, switched to coded frequency, Romeo two Romeo" spoke Kaiden, indicating he was 'ready to receive' whatever message.

"Kaiden…this is Jarod." Spoke the lynx.

"Jarod? What's going on?"

"You need to evacuate the area now." Spoke Jarod.

"I have two men down here, I need back up or at least Casevac." Explained Kaiden.

There was a heavy breath on the line before he got his reply.

"Negative." Replied Jarod

"Negative what? Negative on transmission or Negative on availability?"

"Negative, as in we are not sending you anything. You need to get out of there."

"But the mammals here–" Kaiden started

"–are expendable." Finished Jarod.

"What?!" Kaiden asked incredulously.

"The plan was never to take the south end of the city by a ground assault, there were too many insurgents. It was only to stir the hive enough to make them swarm so we could hit them hard with something else."

"Which is?" demanded Kaiden

"Aerial Bombardment." Jarod answered.

"You're telling me you sent troops in here to bomb them along with the enemy?"

"In short, yes, there is no time to explain, you have to get out of their now." Explained Jarod

"And what about Kit and Pearson?"

"Casualties of war."

"You bastard." Whispered Kaiden.

"It was not my choice, Kaiden, I didn't want for us to be here in the first place remember?"

"Now get your ass out of the kill zone before you become a casualty too."

Kaiden stopped and realized the reality of the situation.

"Roger, transmission received." Kaiden spoke clicking off the radio.

He winced and gritted his teeth in frustration. Kit's words echoing in his ears. "We don't leave anyone behind."

"Son of a bitch." Kaiden spoke with conviction, an idea crossing his mind.

Without delay he grabbed his weapon and flung open the door, checked the street and quickly went towards his objective.

Minutes later, Kaiden arrived at the torn up vehicle they had encountered before, opening the doors and pulling out the dead corpses.

"I'm sorry guys, but I need this to save my friends." He apologized, hoping that in spirit they understood what he was trying to do.

Jumping into the vehicle he tried to turn the engine over. It groaned and grunted but failed to start.

"Come on…Come on god damn it!" he cursed at the Humvee.

Starting it again, it groaned and grunted again but this time sprang to life, it's V8 turbo diesel roaring to life.

"Yes!" Kaiden celebrated as he put it in gear.

Driving quickly back towards the convenience store as quickly as he could.

Minutes later…

Bursting around the corner Kaiden almost passed the store, screeching the vehicle to a halt, scrambling out of the vehicle, to collect Kit and Pearson.

"Holy crap, that's certainly surprising." said Kit.

"Come on, we got to go." Kaiden said urgently as he collected Pearson.

"What's going on?" asked Kit

"I don't have time to explain, we just have to go, like now!" Kaiden fired back.

Putting Pearson in the back seat, and Kit in the front passenger, helping to strap them both in. Kaiden jumped back into the driver's seat and turned the vehicle around, ramming into the nearby junked out car before screeching back down the road. The Humvee's engine roaring as he presses the gas.

"What the hell is going on Kaiden?" Demanded Kit.

"The plan, the whole plan, it's completely fucked." Said Kaiden.

"You're not making any sense." Kit shook his head.

"The god damn plan, it was never about the ground assault, they just wanted to get them to gather in one spot."

"And then what?"

Kaiden mimicked a plane with his paw, and then drew a line, whistling a falling sliding tone as his finger moved downward, and then mimicked an explosion sound as he opened his paw.

"Fuck you…No way they would approve bombing their own men." Kit shook his head incredulously.

"I don't think it was the Army's idea." Replied Kaiden

Kit thought about it and realized what the fox was insinuating.

"You mother fuckers." He shook his head disapprovingly.

"Hey, not my idea either," The fox retorted."

"Let me guess, just following orders, huh?" Kit asked angrily.

"Hey asshole, I didn't say I agree with it, and no, I'm not following orders."

"How so?"

"I was ordered to leave you behind." Kaiden fired back.

Kit was taken aback by that statement, not sure whether it was the fact that the fox was ordered to leave them, or the fact that he came back anyway.

"I remembered what you said 'No one gets left behind'" Kaiden smiled.

"Thanks." Kit replied sincerely.

Kaiden managed to get to out of the winding streets and onto the main highway, gunning the engine as hard as he could, trying to pick up as much speed as vehicle would take. The roar of plane engines overhead, the swoop of a metal airframe. The sound of intense explosions ringing out, plumes of fireballs and black smoke shooting skyward, getting closer and closer. The bombing runs were commencing, each explosion louder and louder, the fire closer and closer. Though they didn't say it, they could both swear they felt the heat of them.

"Come on, get this fucking tub moving!" cursed Kit.

"Hey, you think I want to die out here, I'm trying!" replied back Kaiden.

The multiple pops piling onto top of one another, the bombardment getting closer, the anxiety and fear gripping at them. Kit looked back as he felt an intense rush of air pass over them. Kit's mouth dropped and his eyes wide, Kaiden hadn't seen fear on the wolf's face before and that fact was enough to do so made his mind wonder what he was looking at. Peering into the left mirror all Kaiden saw was a wall of fire coming at them, like a pyroclastic flow, a wall of burning death. The wind kicked up dirt, and the sunlight seemed to drain away. The dust plumes washed over them and now driving practically blind, the sand gave the air a dark tan hue, bits of sand gave the air a gritty taste, trying their best not to breathe it in.

They just hoped the road was still clear of obstructions for they wouldn't have much warning if there was, if the signs on the side of the road were any indication. They would simply materialize from a vague shadow, then come close and pass by all within seconds. The fact that they had not been roasted alive yet was a good sign, perhaps they would live to see another day.

After another twenty minutes of driving they came out of the cloud, looking back they realized that the bombardment kicking up the sand and dust created a break in the heat of the sun, which in turn created its own sandstorm. Which gave way to the subsequent 'shamal' or northerly wind. Shamals were weather patterns where the cooler wind from the North would wash over an area creating high winds, stinging sands and even lower visibility than what they just endured. From their vantage point they could see the dark tan clouds moving toward the city, and suddenly the rushed conflict seemed to make sense. In this area of the world the one thing that can stop the fighting are Shamals, it's the one thing where anyone with a brain in their head simply packs it in and bunkers down for the duration, and a big caveat of any modern technological army is that all forms of air cover or support cannot fly in such conditions. Taking stock in their situation, what had happened, they drove silently back to the Northern headquarters.

A few days later…North Mousel, Irat, Regional Airport.

Kit was sitting on the rear ramp of a C-130 Hercules a number of pieces of cargo dotted around the aircraft but focusing mainly on the nearby metal cases, coffins containing his squad mates. Reflecting pensively as his left foot paw twitched nervously against the metal ramp.

Kaiden had walked into view, a packed duffle over his shoulder, unsure about whether or not to approach, he waited until Kit noticed him.

"So I take it you're on your way out of here?" Kit asked.

"Yeah. The MIA finally sent a plane for us." Kaiden replied meekly

"Yeah, well I can't say I'm going to lose any sleep that you're leaving." Kit replied coldly.

"I deserve that." Kaiden replied.

"That and so much more." Kit interjected.

"I want you to take a look around, just look." Kit added, gesturing with his paw.

"These are the bodies of some good mammals, who followed orders, did the job they were asked, and got fucked over for it." Kit said sternly

"I had nothing to do with that." Kaiden responded.

"I know, trust me, I know. If you did, you'd be in one of these boxes already." Kit replied.

Kaiden stood stunned.

"You came back for us, Pearson and me, I won't forget that. But I think you need to start realizing who you're actually working for, and the level they will go to, to achieve whatever the hell it is they do."

"I'm serious kid, the people you're working for don't seem to care about the mammal cost of what it is they're doing." Kit finished.

Kaiden noticed that Kit was holding something in his paws, a pair of epaulets.

"What do you have there?" the fox asked.

Kit stared down at his paw, letting out a sad huff, showing the front of the epaulets. They had three chevrons denoting sergeant rank, a battlefield promotion. Normally this would be a cause for celebration and congratulations but these were clearly not normal times.

"I'd been busting my hump to get sergeant stripes, every single one of these guys knew it. And now that it's actually here, I don't have anyone to share it with. Hell, part of me knows the only reason I got these is because most of the sergeants in my unit are dead, sitting here on this plane anyway."

"Don't say that Kit, I've seen you doing your job, you of all people deserve to command." Said Kaiden.

Kit looked back up at the fox, unsure of how to reply.

"Yeah well, unfortunately for me I don't have anyone else left to command." Kit replied

"Would it help to say that I'm sorry?" Kaiden asked.

"Maybe–Eventually, but right now, no– Right now I just want to be left alone."

"Ok, I can understand." Kaiden replied gripping his duffle tighter.

The fox turned to walk away and paced a few steps before looking back.

"See you around?" he asked.

The wolf turned back to the fox, understanding that he was trying to reach out, knowing he was trying to empathize. Kit huffed again and smirked.

"Yeah, sure." He replied calmly.

#zootopia #fanfic #fanfiction #zootopia: shadows in the dark #zootopia: kaiden's story

6 notes · View notes

enkelimagnus · 4 years ago

Text

Locker Room

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2362 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

A small look into Bucky's work life, and the everyday struggles that come with it

TW: mention of medical procedures, death of family, light implying of Hydra Trash Party, the US Army

Read on AO3

Part 7 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

-------------

The Special Restitution Taskforce operates out of Fort Hamilton, in a brand new wing of the building, all sleek metal and glass that makes Bucky think of toppling card castles. The new architecture these days looks too delicate.

It’s not like he’s got a say in the design of his place of work, so he shuts up about it. He learned a long time ago that the Brass make whatever decision they think is right, and he just has to follow along. That applies to design as well as to whatever gun is shoved in his hands when he walks into one of the aircrafts.

He could voice his opinions - after all, he’s not technically part of this shindig anymore - but he’s content with grumpy thoughts of how glad he is that the house they decided to give him is made of brick and not glass.

The taskforce is a strange sort of unit. There’s a skeleton crew of a handful of soldiers, people specialized in the kind of raiding the taskforce was built for. There’s him, the guy they call to break in a few doors, kill a couple people, and disable bombs, then sign all the paperwork. The rest are soldiers assigned to the SRT for one-off missions that get them a bit of a fatter check at the end of the month, and he can’t blame any of them. He’d have jumped on the opportunity too.

Regularly, there’s one that watches him with a weird awe in their eyes. When he breaches a safehouse, knocks out some Hydra thug that was hiding in shadows thinking he couldn’t hear them breathing from a mile out… He can feel their eyes on him.

They need a shrink as much as he does.

No one should look at him like that. They should recoil and be scared and disgusted, like the other kind of stares he gets while on the job. That admiration makes him sick. He’d give up every skill he’s ever learned in war or with Hydra in the blink of an eye if he could.

But he knows it’s not their fault. The army can breed kids that don’t know anything but violence and blood, that crave it. Who see Bucky’s skills as exploits and signs of heroism, when it’s just the result of decades of abuse. It makes him want to punch the President in the face, when he sees those 20-year-olds starved for combat like rabid dogs, when he sees young eyes haunted by shit they shouldn’t have seen.

So when he sees those with weird awe, especially when they’re young and eager, he doesn’t bark at them the way their superiors do. He asks them questions on the flight over to the target, about their families and their pets and why they joined. Some of them say college and healthcare and once again, Bucky wants to punch the President.

He shouldn’t be in the cargo hold of a plane with kids that just wanted to go to college.

As he changes out of his gear and into his civvies, he can hear some footsteps down the corridor to the changing rooms. He’s not technically an active member of the army anymore, so he gets a flashy lanyard, and he’s not allowed to bring home his gear.

He’s got a set of pink and greens in his wardrobe back home, hung up in a clothes bag to keep it safe. He’s never worn it. He was told they were made to be identical to the ones they gave to the vets coming back from the war, like an upgraded version of the all-purpose stuff they gave them.

He guesses one day he’ll have to attend some sort of official shit and they’ll ask him to wear it, with all the ribbons and things that also sit in a box in his wardrobe, untouched. His status with the army is weird, both part of it and not. They can’t decide whether they want to take credit for his acts of heroism or detach themselves from his acts of horror.

He does actually like wearing the field gear. Tactical pants and boots and a t-shirt, belts and holsters. They’re familiar and comfortable. He doesn’t get to wear that stuff often anymore. Not that he doesn’t like his civilian clothes, but tactical gear has the comfort of familiarity. For seventy years, he only took them off for cleaning and special missions. And the other ‘missions’ that he couldn’t think about without wanting to puke.

The changing rooms are locker-style. They remind him of the old times. He spent a good amount of time in locker rooms, in between high school, Goldie’s, the YMCA’s, the clothing factory’s… It’s different now, obviously. The lockers are opened with personnel ID. He flashes his guest lanyard against the reader and hears the mechanism unlock.

The door of the changing room opens as he pulls his gear t-shirt over his head and someone gasps. He allows himself one small private eye roll. It’s the glint of the arm that gets that reaction. With his shirt off, they can see where flesh and vibranium meet.

It’s impressive, he knows that. It’s impressive to him too. The stump that had been left after the fall and then covered by Hydra’s arm had to be amputated entirely as well, taking out a part of his shoulder. On the outside, the way Shuri’s design sits on his body isn’t very different from Hydra’s, but on the inside, it is. For him, it’s so different. It’s not only much lighter, but it doesn’t pull at him the way the other one did. It hurts way less.

He honestly didn’t really listen to the details of what the Wakandans were planning for his arm. When they took him out of the ice, explained what they’d done to try and remove the codewords, they’d asked him if he wanted them to deal with the arm too. And he’d said yes. They’d made sure he was informed and consented, but the medical jargon had flown over his head. As long as he wasn’t in pain, he was good with anything.

It had taken a week at most, and he’d been able to settle into the village, with goats, armless and painless.

He can feel the eyes on his back, on the arm, on the scars, on the chain of his dog tags around his neck. It feels off but he doesn’t say anything, just proceeds to take off the rest of his gear and pull on his clothes.

The henley has long sleeves that hide his arm, the jeans are a little on the looser side, and the shoes are those casual civilian boot styles.

They’re watching him still. They’re muttering to each other. ‘It’s the Winter Soldier’, and other such comments. Nothing bad, nothing he hasn’t heard a hundred times in this room. He feels horribly exposed anyway.

He closes his eyes before he gets to the outer layer and takes a deep breath. They don’t mean bad. They’re kids. There’s always been kids muttering about him, that’s always been part of his life.

If only he could not be seen. He just wants to bleed into the background and not be perceived. He wants the quiet of anonymity, the serenity of being alone and unseen. Even the blankness of being the Soldier sometimes seems better than being seen. He remembers waiting alone on a rooftop for a target to be in sight, he remembers standing by a door until the hours bled into one another and morning came quickly.

Sometimes he aches for that.

He hates it. Because being a person is… everything he’s wanted, for a really long time. And he shouldn’t want anything else than to feel, to think, to be human. It’s just so hard some days, when he’s being watched, when everyone knows who he is and what he’s done, when he’s not just some random guy named James but he’s the Winter Soldier.

The only people he connects to are those who do not remark on his identity. Like Charlie, the hairstylist whose voice is firm and soothing like Ayo, who doesn’t hesitate to touch him despite the fact that there’s no way she doesn’t know who he is. Or like his neighbor, with the buzzed head and the piercings, who has caught him in the middle of the night three times now, when he goes to run with a short-sleeved t-shirt and the sounds of his own screams resounding in his head still.

Those are his favorite sort of people.

Now that he thinks of it, they were the kind of people he liked back in the day. When he hugged Steve tight and someone would see and know. But they didn’t say anything. Or when his magen david fell from his collar and they would know he was a Hebrew and didn’t rat him out, didn’t use that to get the boss to cut his hours and give them to them.

The quiet people, the allies in the shadows. Those are his favorite people.

He pulls on his hoodie, and his jacket, then the gloves. It’s February, and it’s frigid outside, the biting cold that makes him think of Siberia, or of Steve’s coughing body curled up into his. All the risks he was taking by holding him like that.

The kids are changing into their service uniform now, and as he walks by them to the door, he sees gunshot wounds and scars and he wants to scream again. He’s been fighting for so long, and kids are still getting hurt like this. Granted, they are all well in their 20s, but to him, they look like kids.

He can already feel the virtual stack of paperwork waiting for him tomorrow. For now though, he can just go home. He’ll stop by the hair salon, see if they can take him this week. His hair is getting a little shaggy for his taste.

He waves everyone goodbye as he passes by, because he was raised right. His ma would come out of her grave to smack him if he was rude to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Perhaps he should do that. He hasn’t seen her in eighty years.

He was in the US when she died. They smuggled him onto American soil a couple of months before he was set to assassinate the president and made him lay low in the basement of a safehouse somewhere. He remembers very few things, but he remembers the horrible racist insults and comments from his handlers as Martin Luther King’s speech was transmitted on the radio. They hated the Civil Rights movement with a burning passion. Fucking fascists.

They never knew exactly what he was. Some days, it fills him with so much petty satisfaction. Hydra’s Fist was a Slavic Jew. And they didn’t even fucking notice.

He decides to walk back home, even if it will take at least twice the time it would take by subway. It’s 6pm, though, and it will be completely filled down there if he goes now.

The hair salon has a few customers in, but none are using the clippers right now. That’s his window.

Charlie’s behind the desk, and smiles at him as he walks in. It’s quick work to set up an appointment. Next Tuesday, before opening, he’ll have the place all to himself. He’s so incredibly thankful for people like Charlie. When he first came here, asking to see if they could cut his hair without clippers, she ended up offering for him to come early.

When it’s just him there, there are no buzzing tools around, only scissors and it’s an almost relaxing moment. Charlie doesn’t talk much if he’s not trying to have a conversation, and the silence is not awkward. It’s soothing. A balm. Her hands are light on his scalp, but unafraid. She checks on him from time to time, makes sure he’s okay, but he hasn’t ever felt the fear when in her chair.

The traditional barbershops he would have patronized don’t work with who he is now. And Charlie’s good with her fingers. She makes him think of Ayo sometimes. He probably needs more female friends.

“I can also schedule you for something on the 14th, if you want a fresh cut for Valentine’s Day,” Charlie points out before he takes his leave. “After closing, we do the whole staff, so they look great for their dates. I can add you.”

Valentine’s Day? Fuck, he hasn’t thought of that in years. He barely knew they still celebrated something on that day.

His face must look comical because Charlie chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, you’ll let me know next Tuesday if you want it, okay?” She says quietly. “No pressure. Besides, you never know what can happen in a couple of days. You could find yourself a partner.”

It’s his turn to chuckle, though his is sadder. “Ah, my last… partner is gone, so…”

She makes a face of understanding - even if there’s no way she understands. “Their loss,” she mutters as she enters the info for his appointment on her computer. “You’re a sweet guy.”

You have no idea .

Bucky just gives her a small, awkward smile.

She nods at him. “We’re all set up. I’ll see you fresh and early next Tuesday then, Mr Barnes.”

“James,” he corrects. “Just call me James, please.”

Mr Barnes was his dad. It’s always been his dad. Everyone that mattered called him James or Bucky, and then it was ‘Barnes’ or ‘Sergeant’.

“Then see you then, James,” Charlie smiles. He can see the exhaustion in her eyes, hear it in her voice. He’s gonna make her be there early too. Guilt claws his stomach for a second.

“Thank you,” Bucky nods and bids his goodbyes, walking away from the salon. He’ll leave a very big tip. She deserves it, for helping make his life less complicated. He wouldn’t be anywhere without people like her, and he knows it.

He makes it home soon after that, fleeing the cold of February evening.

#jewish bucky series #jewish bucky barnes #bucky barnes #marvel #mine #fic

1 note · View note