#hook 'i'm surrounded by idiots' era

[blairwld]

Hook's "I'm surrounded by idiots" post mortem era has arrived

[biitchcakes]

Face once again concealed by the menu, Jessica took the opportunity to grin like an idiot. She could hear the love behind his words, a love that she loved her best friend was receiving. After all these years of Hell, she deserved some of that, to say the least.

Star Trek ?! Jessica's neck snapped up from the menu as she tossed it to the side, drinks be damned for the moment. Shifting forward in her seat, her attention immediately hooked, she at least managed to let Peter finish speaking ― laughing at the affectionate use of 'mud ball'.

〝 Yeah, it may be a mess down there but. . . Boy, is it a mess you miss when you step away outside of it. Like Earth is some giant island of quicksand surrounded by a sea of lava. Sure, the quicksand island may not be the greatest, but I'd rather be on it than in the lava ocean.〞 Realising what she was implying, she shook her hands and head simultaneously. 〝 I just mean, you have your lava-sea legs, and I. . . don't ? 〞 Letting out a huff, she grumbled. 〝 Never mind, the metaphor is getting confusing.〞

Tapping rhythmically on the table a few times while bouncing up and down in her seat with excitement, Jess asked ( as casually as she possibly could manage ), 〝 Sooo, Star Trek, huh ? Got a favourite T.V. era in particular ? 〞 Pulling her legs up so she was now perched on the chair, she smiled fondly as her mind wandered. 〝 Y'know, I call Carol 'Captain Kirk' from time to time.〞 And she calls me Spock, Jess thought with a fond smile.

Her story with Carol ? Where to begin ?

〝 Well, I don't know how much she talks about it, but yeeaaars ago now, she had this fight with Rogue on the Golden Gate Bridge. And, I just so happen to be living in San Francisco at the time, so I was watching the whole thing go down. Our girl was putting up one Hell of a fight, until. . .〞 No matter how much time had passed, the memory of seeing Carol plummet toward the water still sent a shiver up Jessica's spine.

With a deep breath, and a quick shake of the head, she continued, 〝 Until she didn't ― until she couldn't. They were up in the sky, Rogue absorbed Carol's powers, then she just dropped. But, lucky for her, and the whole fuckin' universe, I was there, and I caught her.〞 She had to tell the story with a sense of humour and bravado, because if she didn't, she'd dwell too much on how she nearly lost her best friend before she'd ever had her.

〝 Then years later, after Carol's done her Binary thing, I'm working for S.H.I.E.L.D, undercover in HYDRA ― we run into each other, Jen's there too, she wants to arrest me, it's a whole thing. Carol defended me though, trusts me right off the bat. Still wasn't really used to that from many people at the time. She's always been that for me. . .〞

Jessica's thoughts drifted to her arrival back on Earth after being replaced by Skrulls. Carol was the one who hugged her, instantly embraced her ― kept her safe. Defended her.

〝 Anyway, after that, we agreed to meet up and catch up ― and we actually did. That quickly morphed into just meeting up for lunch any chance we got.〞 She was approaching the end of her pre-Skrull days, so, figuring she'd avoid that can of worms until another time, she poked in Peter's direction.

〝 What about you two, though ?? I know bits and pieces, but I wanna hear it from your side. Gush about my bestie !! 〞 Jess shouted it loud enough at a few patrons looked over. She'd forgot they were on a mission ― whoops. 〝 Gush about my bestie,〞 she repeated in a whisper.

he  notices  in  the  confused  expression  of  his  companion  that  she  just  might  not  have  a  universal  translator  planted  somewhere  behind  her  neck  to  magically  translate  the  alien  languages  before  her.       he  gestures  to  a  few  options  as  ‘safe’  for  her  before  speaking  again.       ❝          oh  i  know  very  well,       trust  me.       she’s  like       GRAVITY.       y’can’t  escape  her,       not  that  i  would  ever  want  to.          ❞      

the  hybrid  doesn’t  even  try  to  deny  or  play  down  how  he  feels  about  the  blonde.       she  didn’t  have  to  bring  him  a  sandwich.       in  fact,       he  was  ready  to  throw  himself  here  before  she  asked.      

❝          i  gotta  admit  i’d  rather  be  back  at  grandpa’s  watchin’  reruns  of  Star  Trek  but  hey     !       DUTY  CALLS.          ❞       Peter  adds  playfully,       gaze  mostly  fixated  at  the  entrance  of  the  establishment,       though  once  a  while  he  makes  sure  to  look  Jess’s  way  so  that  he  doesn’t  appear  suspicious.       he  feels       RUSTY       despite  having  nearly  two  centuries  of  experience  under  his  belt.       ❝          don’t  get  me  wrong.       I  LOVE  SPACE.       everything  good  n’  bad  i  accomplished  all  my  life  is  out  here.       i’m  a  nobody  on  Earth  so  far  n’  i  don’t  intend  to  become  famous  by  getting  our  beloved  mud  ball  in  trouble.       still     .  .  .       it’s  weird  to  think  that  i,       of  all  people,       would  feel  strange  leaving       EARTH.       Earth     !          ❞      

he  could  marvel  all  day  at  the  new  Peter  Quill       &       still  wouldn’t  be  able  to  wrap  his  head  around  who  he  is.       the  lady  next  to  him  is  more  of  an       ENIGMA,       hence  the  question  that  follows.      

❝          so  what’s  your  story  with  Carol     ?          ❞

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 5- Replaceable

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2154

Warnings: Light dream violence?

4- Distaste

...

She could hear herself breathing, her heart rate accelerating at inhuman speed. Her eyes were closed. She was afraid to open them in fear of seeing the horrors of a living hell.

She felt a wetness about her bare feet that seeped between her toes, warm and sticky. The scent of iron was strong in the air. Glancing down she opened her eyes slowly, gagging at the sight of the pools of rich blood surrounding her, as well as the bodies of the holy men thrown about with arrows embedded into them. She stared wide eyed at the massacre, lifting up the hem of her white dress to see it covered in the red of the monks.

The pristine walls of the monestary were covered in the blood of its men that worshipped within its walls. The statues of the saints melt away into the bloody mess on the marble floors, and the gold she had welded with her own two hands were gone.

Artemis let's out a sob, willing the screams in the distance to stop, for the madness to stop...and then there was silence.

Somehow the silence was worse than the screams.

"It is beautiful, don't you agree?" She whipped around quickly, staring into eyes of endless blue oceans that would surely drown her.

Ivar stood tall, looming over her like a great oak tree, a long bow in his hands. Blood streamed down his face and into his eyes, but he didn't seem to care.

To see him at his full height and not crawling about on the ground set a fear in her heart. Before she could do anything, he stretches the bow string as far as he could with a wild grin, releasing the arrow with lightning speed, and then, she saw nothing.

...

"Wake up, you lazy cunt, you're dreaming again!" The hits of the wooden spoon were enough to jolt Artemis into conscienceness. Sweat rolled down her brow and her breathing was erratic. It was still dark out, not yet sunrise.

"There she is, now get up, the Prince's should be waking soon and the hall must be spotless. Wouldn't want Ivar to cut that pretty little face of yours, hmm?"

Artemis rubbed the sleep from her eyes, doing her best to ignore Edda, the head thrall of the household. She was a feisty older woman with an unpleasant tone who had worked under Queen Asluag in the days when the boys were young. She was round, with a build as large as her personality. They must have fed her well these past years. Edda was quite fond of her late Queen and had resented Lagertha, but those were the old days, and a new era was upon them. Perhaps the murder had affected her just as it did the sons.

The main hall had been empty that morning, except for the few slaves that lingered about. Edda, that old hag, had sent her to clean up mess after mess. Artemis supposed that was her main purpose there, besides tending to the crippled prince. Cleaning up messes was tedious, but at least she wasn't forced upon the fortifications of the wall. The monks of Crete served that purpose.

Artemis blinked tiredly, slowly dragging her feet to the hall. It was to her surprise that not much needed to be cleaned and tended to. The brothers had thrown a small feast among themselves, and the remainders of last night hung in the air and draped over Artemis' shoulders like a cloak. Articles of clothing were thrown about, and horns of ale sat untouched on the table. She collected the clothing and cups, passing them off to one of the kitchen maids and the laundress.

She sighs, tending to the hearth before going over to wipe spilled ale off the large table. On the center of the table was what looked like a lute. It was a beautifully crafted instrument, the wood carved to perfection. Patterns were etched on its front with the same strategic lines she had seen carved on the rocks and boulders around the village.

She tossed the cleaning rag to the side, momentarily forgetting her task and letting her fingers brush atop the smooth wooden surface. The wood was soomth to the touch upon her heated fingers, just as she expected. She then passed her fingers over the thin strings that were rough to the touch. She plucked one of them, and the resonating sound made her smile. The sound was a comfort to her, a nostalgic ringing in her ears that made her want to pluck another string just to bring the feeling back.

"Do you play?"

Artemis turned quickly, suppressing a shriek of surprise. Behind her stood one of the princes, Sigurd, who bore a tired smile. When she remained quiet, he stepped forward slowly, ignoring the look she gave him.

"Do you play?" He asked again, this time a bit slower, assuming she didn't understand. He points at the lute. He gave no air of a threat, but Artemis could not be too sure, so she didn't let her guard down. She didn't know this prince as well as the others. Ubbe was sensible and kind, Hvitserk was extremely playful, and Ivar crazy, so where did Sigurd fit into?

She realizes he was waiting for an answer, and she quickly cleared her throat before putting her hands behind her back and setting her gaze to the floor.

"I'm not very skilled, Prince," She spoke quietly but firmly, and almost jerked back when he gently grasped her chin, pushing her face up towards him. Her eyes bore into his odd blue ones and his smile could be described as blinding.

"Your eyes," He begins, "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"

"No." She replies flatly, shaking herself from his grip.

Sigurd wasn't angry.

He stepped past her, grabbing the lute and plucking a few strings to create a tune. He smiled at her again before handing her the instrument.

"You try,"

She looks at him with uncertainty before grasping the lute, cradling it softly within her arms like a child. She plucked one string, then another, bringing back a tune from deep within her memory.

She remembered her mother was a skilled musician, trying her best to pass on the knowledge to her, but Artemis never really cared for it. She always gravitated towards the work of her father and brother. Her mother always joked that she bore two sons. The thought made Artemis smile as she continued to play, just as her mother had taught her, a lullaby played to her when she was a little girl. It had been so long since she'd heard it, yet somehow it remained fresh in her mind.

She stopped abruptly, fingers hooking over the strings as mixed emotions ran through her. She felt angry hot tears swell in her eyes, blurring her vision. She choked back a sob that threatened to spill from her lips. The memories of her old life resurfaced and hit her like a crashing wave. She fought so hard to keep them at bay.

Overwhelmed, Artemis placed the lute back on the table with shaking hands. She spared a glance at Sigurd, wet eyes revealing the resentment swimming within. It wasn't his fault she was there, but he was associated with the ones who did, and that was enough for her soul to be gripped with animosity.

"Why do you cry?" Sigurd seemed genuinely confused. The idiot. He steps closer, raising a hand in an attempt to dry her tears, but right before she made a move to shift away from his touch again, they were interrupted by a growl all too familiar.

It had grown silent, even the crackling embers of the building fire had grown silent as if fearful.

"Ivar," Sigurd says his name with an annoyed sigh, not bothering to turn around. He knew his youngest brother had the eyes of a vulture.

"What can I do for you, little brother?"

Ivar had the habit of appearing from the shadows unnoticed despite the scraping of the metal buckles round his legs, but he quite liked it that way. He crawls across the floors in an eerie manner as he slowly approached the pair with eyes that was nothing short of murder.

"I just wonder brother," He began softly, continuing to drag himself ever so slowly until he reached Sigurds boots, "I wonder who gave you the authority to touch my thrall, if it was not I who gave the order?" Ivar feigned confusion, lifting himself up to sit at the table. He watched Artemis intently, noticing how rigid her posture was, as if ready to pounce on the defense if need be. Sigurd held his ground as he always did.

"Must I ask permission to command a slave, Ivar?" Ivar hums in response, drumming his fingers harshly against the table that resonated throughout the hall. Sigurd was never a good liar, even now, Ivar could see how his brow twitched, a sign of Sigurd's obvious dishonesty. He had fooled Ivar as a child many times, but he wouldn't be misguided as easily as before.

"Command? This isnt an ordinary slave, dear Sigurd, this is my slave. Would you like it if someone else were trying to toy with your property, hmm?" His tone was condescending, a ploy to bring Sigurd to his boiling point. It had almost worked, and the youngest brother watched with glee as Sigurd moved to react, hands turning to fists, but it was Ivar's slave that reacted first.

"I was never a man's property, not in my homeland, and certainly not here," Artemis growled, hands bawling into fists at her sides. Whatever ounce of fear she had of Ivar had disappeared, as rage clouded her vision. All thoughts of potential punishment had ceased from her mind, nose flaring and eyebrows arched.

She faces Ivar with a hardness in her eyes, shining like pearls ready to be plucked from the sea. Perhaps it was her nightmare that ignited the fire, the image of Ivar ready to kill her was implanted in her mind. Ivar grinned madly, a reaction he was not expecting from her, but a reaction he enjoyed nonetheless.

Sigurd watches on with wide eyes, speechless at her outburst. It was only moments ago in which she almost appeared as a mute. Leave it to Ivar to make even the most silent of persons angry.

"My, how your vocabulary has expanded!" Ivar taunts, "I'm impressed, really," He slams his hand against the table with a loud smack, and the force of the hit sent the lute crashing to the ground, forgotten in the tense silence of the hall. Then he gets deadly serious.

"The fact of the matter is that you are now a slave! To hel with your past life, it does not matter anymore. Here you are nothing but a slave under my command. Relinquish your thoughts of your homeland, you have no use for it here,"

"You are much too cruel, brother." Sigurd sighs, glancing at Artemis before taking a seat across from Ivar. He was in no mood to argue.

"The truth can be quite cruel," Ivar says, glaring at his brother before turning his gaze to Artemis. He brings a dagger between his fingers, the same one he put to her throat only days ago. It seemed to glitter in the light of the fire, as if mocking her mortality.

"Well? Will you not fetch us food? It is nearly time for breakfast," Ivar smiled, quickly driving the dagger into the wood of the table with a hard stab. Artemis, fuming with anger, remains silent. Her hands shook and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. Sigurd sent her a sorrowful look, but she ignored it, snatching the rag in a tight grip and turning on her heel to exit the hall. How infuriating Ivar was, to constantly express his superiority. He compensates weak legs with extreme pride, and uses fear as a way to control.

Hvitserk and Ubbe walked past to meet their youngest with Margarthe in tow. Hvitserk winks at her as he usually did at but Ubbe's eyes were hard. He grabbed her forearm tightly, succeeding in emiting a squeal from her.

"Obey him, Artemis," She blinked. It was the first time he'd given her some form of scolding, "You may have never been a slave before, but that is what you are now, and that is the path the gods have chosen for you. If you value your life, obey him. You are replaceable."

With that, Ubbe leaves as if no words have been exchanged at all. Margarthe sends her a look as if warning her, but disappeared with her husband and lover into the hall.

Angry tears escape her eyes and she wipes them away furiously. Tears wouldn't help her.

...

@heavenly1927

[jlpat82]

Not Our Home

Chapter 9

It had been along time since he was down here, Preacher thought, the underground halls hadn't changed. He lead the group through the maze of corridors, twists and turns in the absolute darkness. He was in front, followed by Sasha, Julianne, and Reaper bring up the rear. Each held onto the shirt of the one leading, so not to get lost.

"We need a place to stop, and devise a plan," Reapers voice just above a whisper. "To figure away out of this city."

"I know the perfect place." I responded.

"First, we need to stop by and get a few things." Preacher added. His voice calm, as we rounded another corner.

"How do you know where we are going?" Sasha whispered.

"I snuck in when the bombs starting dropping, before the seals were put into place. At first I stayed down here, to avoid being seen. This was long before the criminals took over the place."

"Why did you come here to begin with?" I asked.

"Once I realized that someone had went through and murdered the scientist on our team I knew it wouldn't be long before they came after us. It took me a while to figure out it was Riptide that betrayed us. He was the one that let the activated nukes slip past." He paused for a moment and then took another turn. "I knew that if he saw me, he would kill me. So I snuck in and went straight to darkest most unlivable place I could."

"Basement level." Sasha stated.

"Exactly, I stayed here for a long while. Roaming these catacombs, I had free roam. Once every month guards would sweep through, they didn't know the darkness like I did. I smashed every light I passed, I wanted the darkness."

"Why?" She asked.

"Being genetically modified the complete darkness is nothing for me. I can see just as well as you can in the day, the people that came down here had limited visibility. I could out run them, cause I could see them coming. The only down side, it makes daylight a bitch to handle."

"When did you go top side?"

"Couple decades back, I stayed low and kept to myself. Found out Riptide didn't hand pick the military, if that's what you call those idiots, anymore and joined. Did a lot I ain't proud of." You could hear the agitation in his voice. "We're here."

I could hear some metal on metal scrapping, Preacher let a sound of a mixture of a groan and a huff. Low light spilled into the hall as he pushed the heavy metal door open.

We stepped into the room, it was smallish. One single light bulb mounted in the far corner was the only source of light. Items I had only seen in videos hung from hooks on the wall. Old camouflage army fatigues adorned with a heavy bulky vest, no doubt reinforced Kevlar. Dusty black boots sat neatly squared under each set, large rifles artfully hung on the walls. These were items from another era. An era tense by war and bloodshed, supposedly a thing of the past.

"I believe these belong to you, Sir." Preacher handed Reaper a set, a name emblazoned across the right breast of the jacket. Harper, in bold stitching. A smile played across his face as he took them, he pulled them close.

"How I've missed you." Reaper spoke softly, pulling his shirt off. Scars lined his bare chest, I turned quickly looking at my sister. Preacher was in the middle of disrobing, changing into his uniform.

"Sasha, you can wear these." Preacher handed her a set, she gladly took them. She stripped quickly out of her slime and maggot covered clothes. They dropped with a wet thud.

"Julianne," Reaper pulled me aside, he handed me a set of fatigues. "These were your grandmother's, you should wear them."

"Why?" I cautiously took them from him, his face relaxed a bit. The kindness had returned to his eyes, something I hadn't seen since that night in my house.

"You are a lot like her." He replied as Preacher walked up to us, handing Reaper a rifle. He turned to me and pushed one in my hands on top of clothes. Bewildered, I turned my attention to him.

"Trust me, we'll need them." He stated, turning he walked back to the wall of weapons.

"News flash Rambo, we normal people don't know how to use these!"

"Easy to figure out, you hold gun, point it thing want to permanently stop and pull the trigger." He replied not looking back.

"You should get dressed." Reaper added and followed his comrade.

I stripped quickly, and put the uniform on. It was heavy and bulkier then it looked while hanging. It felt odd to put on clothes of someone who had been deceased for as long as she had been. Her being my grandmother just made it very weird. Hopefully history would not repeat.

—-

"What do you mean you lost them!" Riptide yelled inches from the guards ruddy face.

"It was guard 116, he turned on me." The poor man croaked out, his eyes averted from Riptide. His left eye was swollen shut, dried blood crusted around his broken nose.

"How?! You were supposed to be one of the best! You passed everything with honors you stupid moron!" Riptide's whole head was a bright red, a vein bulged from his temple throbbing with every word. He absent mindedly rub the back of his head. He could feel the headache starting to come on, he was beginning to wonder if he was surrounded by idiots.

Riptide stepped over to the computer, quickly typed in 116. The computer brought up the file, there was a face he hadn't seen in a hundred years. Riptide felt the blood wash from his face, as a cold chill raked through his body.

The ghost from his past popped up on screen. Preacher had just barely slipped in the force, nothing worth while on his record.  Just average, the kid knew how to cheat the system. No honors, no disciplinary actions, because of this he was able to slip under his radar.

"How long has he been on the patrol unit for the prisons?" He barked, panic raised his voice a notch as his hands started to tremble. This could be detrimental, dealing with Reaper was going to be a challenge but adding Preacher to the problem aggravated the situation. Preacher was Reaper's second in command, his go to buddy. Not only did this mean it was a two on one but Reaper would now know the lay out of entire complex.

"This was his second patrol shift." He slowly brought his eyes up, looking at his commanding officer. His brow knotted together, he saw fear in the man's eyes.

"Damn it!"

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking why is that so damning?"

"Because he only needs a day to completely memorize the entire lay out of structure. It was his unique specialty."

"Sir, the guy barely qualified on his exams, I don't see how that is possible."

"He is not as stupid as you are! That's why, his brain works at a faster and higher setting then your peanut size brain does."

"Uh, I don't think I'm following you."

"He's like me." Riptide pull his handgun out, he pointed to his own head with it. "My brain is much bigger then yours, hence why I'm in control and you are not. We, him and I, were created to be better then people like you."

"What do you mean, created?" Riptide brought the gun down leveling it to the ruddy faced guards head. He pulled the trigger, blowing chucks out of his head.

"You wouldn't understand, and now I wasted a perfectly good bullet."

—-

Reaper was in deep conversation with Preacher, he looked over briefly and pointed to the black boots. I slowly sat down, pulling a pair of socks that had been rolled up in one of the boots. I shook the dust off of them pulling them on, watching them conspire. I grabbed one of the heavy boots, I dusted it off and saw a full shine. I shoved my foot into it as Sasha came over, she sat next to me and she started doing the same.

"Wonder what their plan is." She stated, watching the two, as she laced the boots tightly.

"Escape, fight back, who knows." I sighed, I turned my head to look at my sister. Red slime still clung in her hair, blood streaked across her ivory cheek. Even in the low lighting I could see the dust that streaked her face. I never asked her to be apart of any of this, and she was in no way obligated to stay. She continued to prove me wrong.

It seemed like our old lives were hidden far deep in the past, so much had changed in a week. The world her and I grew up in had changed violently, but it hadn't changed at all. It was the same, we had just woken from the dream into a nightmare fueled by hate and bloodlust, that was our reality. The facade had been pulled back, leaving devastating results in its wake.

Genetically modified people were a reality, they stood before us, the last of a forgotten era. Living relics, trained to fight, trained to kill. They had once lived by code to protect, and that's what they were planning on doing. While one attempted to keep us at bay, by all cost.

The world outside our revered reinforced cinder walls were far from the utopia most had aspired for it to one day be. It in its self, the world as a whole, was livable, filled with horrifying wonders yet to be seen. Twisted and knarled oddies waiting to be to be gazed upon. Lands to be explored and documented, fresh air to breathed. A life I had always wanted to see.

Within these walls is the real horror show we had seen. We had been kept in check by powers beyond our control. Cruel and evil men who held our daily lives captive, not only to keep the status quo in check but actively kept our numbers in check. We had been fed the flesh of our peers none the wiser, arguing over flavors that we had never really tasted. Going to and from meaningless jobs, to appease the elite. We were nothing more then clogs on a wheel.

She had seen these horrors first hand, and yet here she was, sitting next to me. Willing to fight till the end of line, a strength I had never known radiated from somewhere deep with in Sasha. She didn't give up when they took me, with the intent of killing me, even with odds stacked against her. It was her loyalty that brought her the courage she needed to keep going. Then again I could hallucinating all of that, and in reality all she just wanted to do was go home and take a hot shower.

"You said you know a place?" Preacher asked walking towards us. "They'll starting sweeping soon, trust me we don't want a fire fight down here."

"Yeah, can you get us to housing complex A?" I responded taking Reaper's hand as he helped me off the ground, pulling me a bit to close to him. I felt like a tiny awkward creature being that close, I could feel the heat spread through my cheeks. His golden eyes locked onto mine.

"Can I get you to housing complex A?" Preacher chuckled mocking me, as he grabbed a couple more handguns, strapping them to his thighs. He tossed a couple to Reaper who caught them one handed without breaking eye contact with me. "Oh child, if you only knew where I've been."

"Preacher, lead the way." Reaper stated, slowly turning from me. My heart in my throat, I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Why did he do that to me.

—-

"Gentlemen, we've had a breach." Riptide shouted, pacing before the hundred men. "First we have a man who has come in from the outside. A contaminant has breached our walls as is a potential threat to our hollowed society, he is to be considered highly dangerous. He will also be armed to the teeth, this man is not to be under estimated. Do not hesitate, take him down, I assure you he will not hesitate to put a bullet through your skull. The second problem we have had one of our own has turned on us."

All eyes, focused on him. He had re-composed himself since his slip, a momentary weakness. He could feel his power begin to course back through him, he was back in control. These idiots were eating up what he had to say, not questioning his orders. Things back to the way it should be and soon back normal all the way around.

"He is also to be considered highly dangerous, he will also be armed. Though 116 seemed to be average don't let that fool you. The man is a highly trained killer. He is ruthless, shoot at first chance. Both these men must be taken with a head shot, if you miss and shoot another body part they will still continue to fight. Be alert to your surroundings, these two have skills you could only dream of." He paused waiting for his instructions to sink in. He had to remind himself that he was dealing with simpletons. After this was all said and done, these men would be purged and the records wiped. Like nothing ever happened. "As for the woman, I want her taken alive."

Permanent tag-

@kitkatkl

Not our home tag-

@devilbat @tarithenurse @radicalesbians @lilmissravingwriter @no-fuhking-idea

Let me know if you want tagged.

[blairwld]

nearly threw hands with a 13 year old

[blairwld]

we are finally entering Hook's "i'm surrounded by idiots" era