#i will elaborate more in the verse for metal gear

[bombcode-a]

i’m leaving this here so i don’t forget. but. jessie joins up with msf / diamond dogs because she was captured and taken prisoner in one of the camps. she was forced to make bombs / and other weapons for the enemy, after they found out about her skills. ❨ she used to be an actress / revolutionist ❩ 

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Beauty & Her Beast

CHAPTER 1

Another Blix story, I know. I always wanted to write her into the Marvel-verse and this was one of many ideas that I came up with: Blix as a mutant. I want to eventually add mutants to this world. This chapter goes through Civil War, and the rest will follow through the other movies and eventually the tv show. There will also be flashbacks to how they met, and missions etc in later chapters. 

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Steve was after Rumlow; chasing him down in a marketplace in Lagos. The chase ended as he caught up to him, throwing punches left and right. Rumlow gauntlets had hidden blades that he attempted to stab Steve with.

It took several more powerful blows until Rumlow was on his knees, ripping his helmet off. Steve stumbled over to him, breathing hard.

He frowned upon seeing the extensive burns on Rumlow’s face.

“All things considering, I think I turned out okay,” Rumlow weakly joked.

“It’s over Rumlow. You’ve lost,” Steve stated staring down at him.

“He remembered you,” Rumlow began with a pant.

Steve stared at him confused, “Wha-”

“Your buddy, your pal, your Bucky. Got all weepy about it. Looking for him, right? You won’t be able to find him. Not unless you find her,” He teased, further distracting Steve.

“Her who?” Steve questioned.

“My old second. She’d know where to find him. Hell, I’d bet money she’s with him right now. Too bad you’ll never learn that,” Rumlow ended showing the detonator he had in his hand.

He pressed it, Steve jerked his shield to protect himself from the blast, but it didn’t explode as he expected. Steve looked around and spotted Wanda using her magic to contain the explosion. She tried to redirect it to explode in the air, but her power went awry. The exploding sphere crashed into a building, injuring many.

The days that followed were tense as the damage done in Lagos gained more attention, especially when it was revealed that there were emissaries from Wakanda that were killed.

When Steve and Wanda were requested to meet with the rest of the team and the Secretary of State, he knew nothing good would come of it.

They were presented with the Sokovian Accords. As they discussed what happened, Steve turned to Natasha.

“Nat. Rumlow… mentioned I should look for his former second. Do you know who that was?” Steve asked trying to make sense of what he was told.

“I’m guessing you’re not referring to Rollins?” Sam asked sitting down, wondering where this was going.

“Rollins was his third in command for quite some time. His previous second? Her name was Blix. She never… gave a last name. In fact, no one even knew her age. She was strong, and… I remember hearing rumors about her having some sort of power, but no one knew what. Well. Rumlow probably did, they dated for a time,” Natasha explained thinking on it.

“So. Her connection to Bucky would also be a mystery,” Steve concluded with a sigh.

Natasha nodded with a frown.

“There… should be some photos of her though,” Natasha noted as she typed on the table’s keyboard.

A moment later they were shown a file, that was mostly blacked out and several data points incomplete. Her face appeared, and Steve studied it for a moment.

She had brown hair, green eyes, facial scars on tanned skin. The only info they really had beyond that was a note that stated she had left SHIELD of her own accord and it was marked a month and a half before the events of the Lemurian Star.

“Does it say why she left?” Steve wondered looking over the file trying to find some sort of clue.

“No. But I did hear something about… getting badly injured. She almost died and that led to her leaving,” Natasha replied crossing her arms.

“Sorry. Why is this important?” Tony cut in, tired of this redirection.

“Rumlow said that if I wanted to find Bucky, I need to find her. But she may already be with him,” Steve explained tiredly as his phone went off.    

“So. You’re looking for a ghost with a ghost? Awesome. Great,” Tony snarked rolling his eyes.

“Listen, I-” Steve began his phone buzzing again.

A text message came in, stating that she had died in her sleep.

The she in question, he knew was Peggy, and he felt his heart drop. He knew it was inevitable, but it didn’t stop the sting of it.

He got up stating he had to go, and as he made his way downstairs, he paused. Everything felt like it was crashing all around him. He knew he had to focus on one thing at a time, but he was not signing the Accords. Not unless he knew what they were getting into with them.

A few days later, he was in London, at Peggy’s funeral. He thought about what could have been, but he also thought about his life since waking up a few years back. He had been fairly happy, and he knows once he finds Bucky again, his life would feel semi-normal again. Beyond that, it was nice to have Peggy back in his life, even if it was just for a short time.

He was thrown off his stroll down memory lane when Sam nudged him, directing his attention to the current speaker. The “nurse” who spied on him. She introduced herself as Sharon, Peggy’s niece.

The service went on, and Natasha told him about who signed the Accords, and how she was on her way to Geneva to be a representative of it. Steve refused to go; he couldn’t trust what these documents would lead to. He couldn’t risk potentially being under someone’s rule, their thumb, when innocent lives were in harm’s way.

Barely two hours later, there had been an attack at the conference. They were scrambling to figure out what had happened. All they knew, was someone matching Bucky’s description was seen near the crime scene. Everyone was determined to paint Bucky as the villain, and everyone was on high alert for him.

Steve knew one thing: he had to get to Bucky first before anyone else. There had to be a logical explanation for this.

Sharon was able to give him a slight head start, which he appreciated. He was in Bucharest, Romania within an hour. It didn’t take long to find the apartment Bucky was hiding in. Steve stepped inside cautiously, looking around.

He spied two mugs sitting on the counter and spotted some gear that was nowhere near meant to fit Bucky.

“What are you doing here?” Came Bucky’s voice behind him.

Steve turned around and tried to explain the situation as Sam told him that the building was surrounded by cops.

Suddenly he felt a presence behind him, and he glanced back to see the woman, Blix, holding a gun pointed at him. She slowly circled around to his front, standing protectively in front of Bucky.

“We are surrounded. We need to move quickly, Soldat,” She spoke, her voice slightly gravelly.

“This doesn’t have to end violently. I want to hear his side of the story,” Steve tried to explain calmly, looking around hearing all the cops approaching their location.

“We’ve been here for months. As far as I am aware, Bucky does not have the power to be in two places at once. I could possibly find a mutant or two who has that power, but it wasn’t us,” Blix said heatedly.

“Then come with me and explain that to the others. Because so far, they all think he set that bomb,” Steve pleaded.

“We’re out of time,” Blix whispered to Bucky in Russian.

SWAT busted through the windows, and Steve and Bucky began to fight them off. Bucky threw a piece of furniture to further block the door, as police tried to bash it down.

“Bucky! Stop! You’re going to kill someone!” Steve shouted at him.

Bucky grunted as he smashed a cop into the floorboards, to reveal the hidey hole that had his stuff in it.

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” Bucky growled as he grabbed the bag, before tossing Steve out of the window.

Blix grabbed her stuff, dodging flying bodies as the guys fought. One cop tried to grab her arm, and she quickly twisted his arm around, slamming her palm into his shoulder, dislocating it, before tossing him into the wall, knocking him out.

When Steve was thrown out, she moved over to Bucky.

“Get to that roof. I’ll meet you there,” Bucky tells her as he made to move to the door.

She nodded, “Be quick.”

Using her power, feeling shadows all around her, she teleported from the apartment to the roof across the way. As she waited, she would use her powers to stop cops from entering the apartment building. She would send the ones repelling from the roof to random locations far away from the building.

Five minutes passed, and Bucky came bursting through a lower window, landing on the roof in a roll. He snatched up his bag, took her hand and they ran forward. Suddenly Bucky was tackled, and in turn so was she, by a man in an elaborate cat suit. Bucky shoved her out of the way as they fought, trying to protect her.

When the guy had Bucky pinned, claws desperately reaching for Bucky’s face, Blix acted. She moved forward and whistled for his attention. As he glanced up, she threw her foot upward in a kick aimed at his face. He moved to dodge, allowing Bucky to rollaway.

A helicopter whirled above them; a cop was shooting bullets at them. It was quickly knocked out of the sky by a man wearing a flight suit. Steve, who had caught up, was trying to stop the man who attacked them. Blix and Bucky took that as the opportunity to run.

When they got close to the edge, Bucky suddenly picked her up, holding her to him as he jumped down, his metal arm grabbing ahold of the side of the building to slow their descent.

As they straightened up, and rushed down a busy street, Blix grumbled, “Really wish you would give more warning when you’re going to do that.”

They ran hard, racing out onto a busy highway; Bucky, after tossing the driver, stole a motorcycle and Blix hopped onto the back with him.

Bucky was dodging cars left and right, trying to outrun their pursuers. Blix ducked under one of his arms, swinging around to face the opposite direction. She pulled out her handgun, shooting at the tires of the police cars. She disabled several before turning her attention to the man who was chasing them.

She tried to aim at his legs/feet, trying to either trip him up or hinder him. He dodged the bullets easily. Her clip ran out, and she grabbed a small grenade from her pack. She threw it up at the ceiling, causing a small explosion. It did them no good as the man caught up to them and caused the motorcycle to crash by swiping at the wheel.

Blix held onto Bucky, using her powers to try and lessen the blow as they skid to a stop.

Bucky muttered, “I hate when you do that. Guess I deserved it.”

“Would you rather I have road rash? Cause… unlike you… I don’t have super healing,” She groaned, the crash having landed both him and the bike onto her.

They got up as Steve and the man in flight suit, caught up to them. They were both staring at the man in the cat suit, trying to figure out who he was.

There was a loud CLUNK as a man in a silver iron-man suit appeared and informed them that they were under arrest. Blix and Bucky sighed simultaneously; annoyed by everything. Blix quietly held her hands up in surrender as an officer walked up to her to take her things. A pair of cuffs was placed on her and she was escorted to a car, alongside Steve and the other 2 men.

Bucky was taken into a separate car and placed in a glass box. Blix glared at it angrily; he was being treated like an animal and it infuriated her.  

As they were taken away, the man she sat next to, Sam as she found out, began talking…

“So… you like cats?” Sam asked T’Challa, who simply sighed in response.

“Sam,” Steve stated, in an admonishing tone.

“What? Guy shows up in a cat suit, and you don’t want to know more?” Sam questioned.

“Your suit. Its vibranium, isn’t it?” Steve confirmed moreso than asked.

T’Challa explained the history behind the Black Panther, the myth, the legend of it to the Wakandans.

“And you? How the hell did you get to the other roof so quickly?” Sam asked Blix turning to look at her. “Better yet, were you the one making all the cops disappear randomly?”

Blix glanced at him briefly, ignoring his questions.

“It is also curious that you have no wounds from the motorcycle crashing as well. Barnes, it is understandable, super soldier and all. But you? As far as anyone is aware, you are simply human,” T’Challa also commented, glancing back toward her.

“‘Simply human.’ Hm. Never heard those words used to describe me. Let’s just say, your majesty, I am far more complicated than you’ll ever know,” Blix said raising an eyebrow.

The SUV had pulled into a large garage, teeming with agents and cops everywhere. The doors were opened, and the three men with her, impatiently waited to have their cuffs removed.

When an agent approached her, she pulled her hands forward, revealing she had gotten out of the cuffs. She dropped them with a purse of her lips, turning to the vehicle that held Bucky. As he was unloaded essentially, she moved toward him.

A burly cop began to step into her path, to stop her.

“If you know what’s good for your own health, you’ll move out of my way,” Blix warned, her stare hard.

He looked at her for a moment, looking between her and the agent in charge, before slowly stepping away. She moved past him, making her way to Bucky.

As she came up to the glass, she squatted down, and looked around for a moment.

“Are you okay, my Soldier?” She asked him in Russian, her voice quiet.

He nodded, his eyes glancing around behind her, before connecting to hers.

“I’ll get us out of here,” She whispered her promise, her hand touching the glass for a moment.

“I know. Be careful,” He murmured back. “Don’t do anything reckless.”

She sighed at that, nodding before standing up, and walking back over to Rogers and the others, joining them as they made their way upstairs. A short blonde man informed them that their belongings were now in their custody, and they would get a receipt of the items confiscated.

A redhead, Natasha Romanoff, appeared, saying it was now government property. Blix grew somewhat annoyed at that, thinking over the items she had kept in her small duffel and the weapons she had.

They were led into a conference room, where Stark was on a call, finishing it with faked outrage.

After a brief argument between Tony and Steve, Tony turned his attention to her.

“And you. Who or what the hell are you? I have 15 very confused SWAT officers trying to figure out how they went from breaching a building to standing in dumpsters 10 blocks away?” Tony questioned her, planting his hands onto the table as he leaned over it, scrutinizing her.

She doesn’t answer him, her right hand she noticed was twitching and somewhat shaking. She frowned deeply at the behavior, trying to make a fist but was unable to.

T’challa who had taken a seat near her, noticed his ring reacting to her presence.

“Your arm… is it vibranium?” T’Challa asked her curiously.

She looked over at him, sighing as she weighed her options for a moment. She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to answer or not.

Steve sat across from her, connecting the dots, “In your file… what little that wasn’t redacted… it said you left after an injury? Your arm?”

She turned her arm, to face her palm upward, tapping the middle of it. The skin tone faded to reveal a dark silvery robotic arm, that ended halfway up her forearm.

“One of my last missions… STRIKE… or... I guess HYDRA rather… sent me and my team into this tiny village in Ethiopia. We were told it was to protect them from mercenaries who wanted to steal from their diamond mines,” Blix began with a roll of her eyes.

“Let me guess… it wasn’t diamonds?” Steve asked sarcastically.

Blix shook her head, “They had a small mine of vibranium. We were there for 3 days… nothing. Started to believe it was just rumors. On the 4th day, a group of men appeared, and tried to take over. They… tried to show their strength and make everyone fear them… by threatening a child. Little girl who was just trying to get some bread. I jumped in front of her, held my arm out to try and deflect the blade as much as possible.”

“The blade was so sharp… that I didn’t feel it. Took a full minute for the pain to register. By that point, my team had taken care of the mercs and I was passing out from the pain and blood loss. When I woke up, I had this,” She wiggled her fingers, or at least tried to, the fingers moved for a second before stopping.

“Apparently that child was the Chieftain’s daughter. He was very appreciative of my protectiveness. The blades amongst my things were gifts from him as well,” She finished with a pointed stare at Natasha.

“Why is your hand malfunctioning?” Sam asked staring at curiously.

“Pierce saw an opportunity. A new super soldier for his arsenal. The programming… or brainwashing whatever you want to call it, was never finished. The first year or so it worked fine, but it slowly began to have problems. Small things, not being able to fully grasp cups, fingers not moving properly. The past few months, it has taken to twitching/shaking at random times. Can’t really use it when that happens,” Blix explained waving her left arm with a half-shrug.

“Where does Bucky fit into this?” Steve asked quietly.

“I was his handler. About 2 months before the whole Lemurian Star nonsense… Well. Pierce realized that his memory was returning to him. That the usual wipes… weren’t doing it anymore. He realized that Bucky was becoming attached to me…and I him. So. He made sure to do a very thorough mind wipe... and had Bucky attack me. He didn’t recognize me at all. He strangled me until Pierce called him off,” Blix answered with a grimace.

Steve sighed heavily, nodding his head absentmindedly.

“Hello? Am I chopped liver here? What about my questions?” Tony cut in, annoyed.

“It’s long and complicated. Let’s just say, I don’t agree with your Accords and would gladly toss such documentation into an active volcano,” Blix replied with a tired sigh.

“So, you’re a powered being? Great. Let me ask you this though. How the hell can you defend Barnes when he attacked you? How could you willingly harbor and protect a man who strangled you?” Tony questioned her.

“You don’t get it do you? Powered, super soldier, mutant. It doesn’t matter how you slice it; we don’t fear each other. Regular people like you Stark? Who have the influence, the power to change our lives, to control us, with a mere flick of a pen?  That’s far more terrifying,” She countered glaring at him.

“I don’t fear Bucky because I know him far better than most of you. That man,” She pointed to the screen that popped up showing Bucky on one of the lower levels. “Has saved my life far more times than he has ever put it at risk. So yeah. I’ll defend him till my dying breath.”

She stood up at some point during her rant and stepped out once she was done. She paced up and down in the hallway near the command center, trying to calm down.

About 10 minutes had passed, and Steve joined her out in the hallway. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, shaking his head every now and again.

“What did he say to piss you off?” Blix inquired joining him in leaning against the wall.

“Was about to agree with him. Sign the Accords and make it easy. Then… he tells me that he’s had Wanda under house arrest, to keep her and her powers in control. This happens too often, we start to agree and see eye to eye, and he does something to ruin it,” Steve muttered angrily.

Blix rolled her eyes, “And then wonders why you are so angry? Acts like he doesn’t understand why you are mad?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, nodding his head.

“Tell me something… does… does Bucky really not remember who I am?” Steve asked quietly.

“He remembers. He… he was nervous as to why you were there. Last time you 2 saw each other wasn’t exactly for a cup of tea. There are some things that are still blanks, but he remembers quite a bit,” She whispered reassuringly, placing a hand on his bicep.

“C’mon. We should head back in, they’ll be starting the psych eval soon,” Steve mentioned, patting her hand on his arm, before grabbing it to pull her along.

Blix allowed him to drag her back inside, with a small sigh. They went back into the glass box when an agent joined them and turned on the sound for the eval.

As the psychiatrist spoke, Blix felt a shiver go down her spine. A whisper echoed in her ear. She turned her head slightly, listening to the voice. She turned her attention back to what was going on hearing Steve ask why the task force put out that photo of Bucky in the newspaper.

As everyone realized something was hinky, Blix spoke softly, “Something’s about to happen.”

Steve looked at her confused, as the power went out. The agent tells them what floor Bucky was on quickly.

“How fast can you get to him?” Steve looked over to Blix.

“Faster than you,” Blix commented as she disappeared.

She reappeared in front of Bucky, turning toward the other man. Her eyes went wide as she spotted the book he held.

“H-… How did you get that?” She stammered staring at him.

“Ah. Yes. I wondered how long it would take you to get down here. The beauty… protecting her beast. As sweet as I think it is… I’m going to need you to not intervene,” Came the man’s lightly accented voice.

He had walked around the table and from within his jacket pulled out a taser and shot her before she could react. Her body locked up, and she dropped harshly to the ground. Once the initial shock of it had worn off, she could hear the man speaking Russian. The trigger words. Bucky’s yells.

She painfully tried to roll over, to get up, but her movements were sluggish. He had shot her in the leg, and her hands shakily removed the barbs, as she struggled to sit up. By that point, Bucky had broken free, but the damage was done. The trigger words had been said.

“Ready to comply,” Came Bucky’s robotic voice as he straightened up.

“No. Do you know what you have done?” Blix didn’t want to admit it, but she was nervous.

The man ignored her, as he commanded Bucky to give him a mission report, before ordering him to go take care of the guards outside.

The man then turned to her and came to squat down beside her.

“I must admit… you are quite beautiful. I can see why he’s protective of you,” He reached out to brush her hair behind her ear.

She tried to lean away, but her body was still shaking off the pain of the taser so she couldn’t move away from his touch. When Bucky returned to the room, the man pretended to be injured, and had Bucky pick her up, hiding her just next to the door. Steve came in, staring at him and the scene, suspiciously.

Before Steve could ask anything, Bucky attacked him, eventually tossing him down the elevator shaft. Sam ran in, pulling Blix up, helping her stand. The man used the distraction to run out.

“Who was that asshole?” She asked him as she stood shakily.

“Don’t know, we can ask him when we get him, Steve will get Bucky,” Sam waved her to follow him.

She stretched and bent her leg for a moment, before racing after him, limping a bit. She trusted Steve; knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm Bucky. Her and Sam ran as fast as they could through the rushing crowd of people.

When they made it outside, they realized the man had ditched his jacket, and was nowhere to be seen.

They continued their search, moving further away from the building when Sam got a text from Steve, saying to meet him by the water. The two of them made their way over there and found Steve with an unconscious Bucky. Blix rushed over taking his other arm, helping lift him, so Steve wasn’t carrying his whole weight.

They wandered underneath an overpass, where there was an abandoned car. Blix dragged the two of them over to the door, and using her power, she unlocked the door.

Steve stared at her, “I hope you explain your powers soon, cause… I am trying to figure it out and drawing a blank.”

She snorted quietly not answering. She opened the door, ripping out the panel below the steering wheel, to reveal the wires. She looked on the ground for a moment, grabbing a shard of glass to cut the wires. Using it, she quickly hotwired the car, and started it a minute later. She gets into the driver’s seat as Steve places Bucky in the back, and Sam hops in the passenger seat.

She quickly drives off, following Steve’s suggestion to go to an abandoned warehouse of some sort.

They parked once they were a safe distance and Steve dragged Bucky inside, pinning his arm down under some heavy machinery just in case.

While they waited for Bucky to regain consciousness, Blix sighed briefly.

“Shadows,” She started.

Steve and Sam looked at her surprised, and slightly confused.

“I can move through and manipulate shadows. When I teleport, I go through what I call the Void. It’s… a haunting darkness, where I hear whispers. Voices. Some are pleasant…others… not so much. They warn me of things. Usually. Earlier before the power went out, I heard a whisper warning me of it. I can also… summon things through it, usually small stuff. Been told I could go bigger and create things but…” She further explained, with a shrug.

She waved her hand out to a lone rusted wrench about 20 feet away, it fell away into nothingness, and reappeared in her hand. She presented it halfheartedly, tossing it to the side a moment later.

“That’s… somewhat terrifying but really cool?” Sam said after a moment. “So, when the bike crashed?”

“Used my powers to somewhat brings us into an in-between plane. Not quite teleport but we didn’t really feel the asphalt. Bucky hates it since any person I teleport with they can temporarily hear the voices too. It’s… unnerving,” She answered taking a seat next to Bucky.

“Understandable. I think? So… if there’s a shadow you can do what you want with it?” Sam asked trying to clarify.

“Essentially. The more light there is, the more difficult it is to do anything,” She noted with a nod.

Steve wandered away for a moment, wanting to check the perimeter really quick. As he did that Bucky began to come to. Blix turned to him, moving to sit on her knees, watching him worriedly.

Sam called for Steve’s attention, and as Steve walked over, he quietly asked, “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

“…Your mom’s name is Sarah… and you used to wear newspapers in your shoes,” He replied slowly, with a small chuckle.

Blix smiled softly at that, and Steve weakly joked, “Can’t read that in a museum.”

Steve lifted the machinery off his arm, realizing he’s not a threat.

Bucky looked toward Blix his eyes checking her over, making sure she was okay. His hand gently took hers into his, holding tightly.

“What did I do?” Bucky questioned, his other hand gingerly touching his head where he had hit it.

“Enough,” Steve answered shortly, with a sigh.

“All that stuff. The crap HYDRA put in my head… it’s still there. All he had to do was say the damn words,” Bucky groaned, guilt consuming him.

Bucky further explained what Zemo had asked about, a mission report, the lab, the other soldiers. Blix closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she listened. Once everything was explained, Steve and Sam began to make some phone calls to some allies.

Bucky looked down at their joined hands, and asked, “It’s been acting up, hasn’t it?”

Blix nodded once, with a frown.

“Once… once this is over, we’re gonna go find someone to help you. Get your hand sorted finally,” Bucky whispered as he reached up to brush a lock of her hair back.

She leaned forward, resting her head against his for a moment, replying, “Then the two of us are going to find someplace to hideaway… preferably with a nice bed.”

She felt him chuckle as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her in close.

“Sounds like a plan, doll,” he muttered softly.

Steve who had finished his calls had stepped into the doorway and began to say something but stopped when he saw the two of them. He took in their postures, noting how relaxed they were. Sam, who stepped up next to him, made a small noise.

“Hm. Guess we see what she meant earlier about the whole “he got attached and so did she” thing. Think after the incident at the Triskelion he ran to her?” Sam quietly asked, watching the 2 of them with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Steve murmured, clearing his throat before speaking to them. “We gotta go. The rest of our backup is on their way to us. Got to make some stops beforehand.”

Blix and Bucky stood up, following them out. Steve drove this time, after stealing a smaller car, with her and Bucky crammed in the back. Blix tried to make herself small, trying to give Bucky more room with how little space there was.

They drove for about an hour, to a random location, where they met up with the agent from earlier. Steve got out, to talk to her and get their gear that had been snuck out. Bucky asked Sam if he could move his seat up, to which Sam gave a firm no.

Bucky slid over to sit in the middle seat. Blix shifted herself, throwing her legs over his lap, trying to help.

Steve had got back into the car, after moving their gear into the trunk.

“It’s like being trapped in a clown car full of testosterone,” She grumbled as they took off.

“Would’ve thought you’d be used to it, working with STRIKE. Did you really date Rumlow of all people?” Sam wondered turning to look back at her.

“Listen. I had to work my ass off to prove myself to those meatheads for years that I was a damn good agent. I never enjoyed being trapped with them in small spaces for hours at a time. As for Rumlow… yes. 3 years of my life wasted,” Blix said bitterly.

“Damn. Okay. When did uhh… when did the two of you become a thing?” He further questioned, pointing at her and Bucky.

“… It’s a long story,” Blix mumbled.

“We got time,” Sam encouraged. “Do we need popcorn?”

Blix gave him a look, unamused.

“A couple of years ago… my office… in the Triskelion, it was next to a hidden hallway. I only knew it existed because people would walk by and disappear. I was there late one evening trying to finish up mission reports, when I heard yelling in the distance. I stepped out, saw that the usual wall was gone, and followed the noise,” Blix began, adjusting herself in her seat.

“The Triskelion had secret hallways? Seriously?” Sam questioned shaking his head.

“Remind me to tell you where they moved Bucky after this incident,” Blix said with a snort.

“Ooh. Alright explain this incident. Get the feelin’ we should’ve gotten popcorn,” Sam was oddly invested.

“Followed the noise, to a room that held the mindwipe machine and cryotube they kept Bucky in. 10 STRIKE agents were on the ground, alongside a doctor. A nurse was cowering in the corner. Bucky was… agitated,” She continued, rolling her eyes when Sam snorted.

*Flashback*

Blix’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight before her. She tried to walk over to the nurse to check on her, when the man turned his attention to her.

She stopped, holding up her hands, “Easy honey. I’m not armed.”

She spun around, lifting her shirt, showing him that she had no weapon on her. He was breathing harshly and was staring at her confused. He would pace for a bit and then stop suddenly. She looked around, sighing for a moment, and holding her hand out to him.

“C’mon. Let’s… let’s go on a field trip. You’re safe with me,” She beckoned him softly.

He stared at her, watching her as she stepped slowly up to him. She took his hand gently and began to pull him forward. He numbly followed, allowing her to pull him along. She led him back to her office, locking the door behind them. She took a seat behind her desks, patting the stool seat next to her. She quietly finished up her paperwork as he silently made his way to sit next to her.

She emailed the documents off to Pierce, turning toward him with a small smile. She looked him over, taking in his posture. He was still tensed, but his breathing had eased back to normal.

“Ok. I can only hide you in here for so long before the vultures come a-knocking. So. How about… I give you a haircut? And you can go shower afterward?” Blix offered politely not really knowing what else to say or do.

He shrugged a smidge, but otherwise didn’t respond. She had a pair of scissors and an electric razor in one of her drawers, so she grabbed both.

“I’m not a professional hairstylist but I know my way around a pair of scissors,” She said as she grabbed a lock of his hair.

He only raised an eyebrow in response.

She began to cut his hair, making the locks short, before switching to the razor to trim it up. The process took about 20 mins, and as she brushed off the fallen hairs, she smiled at him. She gently ran her fingers through his hair making sure she hadn’t missed any long strands.

“There you go. Feel better? There’s a shower over there, clothes and towels in the cabinet. Go clean up,” She pointed at the door behind him.

He quietly does what she said, and as he showered, she cleaned up the mess. She had just finished sweeping when there was a loud knock at her door. Followed by Brock yelling at her to open the door.

She typed into her computer to pull up the camera outside her office. Brock and several other STRIKE members, along with Pierce himself, were standing outside her door. She connected to the speaker that was attached to her keypad.

“Do you mind? I quite like my door and would prefer you didn’t bang on it like you owe it dinner,” She said dully.

“B. Open the door. He’s not safe, let us in,” Brock pleaded, jiggling the door handle.

“Nope. Chill. I’m fine,” Blix hung up.

At that point, the man had wandered out, dressed, and freshly showered. She waved him over, and he sat down back in the stool. She grabbed a pulse and blood pressure monitor. She checked both of them, as he got comfortable. She grabbed a sticky note and wrote down the information they gave.

Once that was done, she sighed heavily, “I hate to do this, but I gotta return you. Just stay with me. I’ll get you back to the lab without incident.��

She stood up, taking his hand again. They walked to the door, and she called out, “Back away from the door please.”

She waited a moment, before unlocking and opening it. She was faced with several men holding guns pointed in her direction.

“Guns. Down. Now. I just got him calmed down, do not stress him out,” She ordered pushing Brock who stood in the doorframe back.

She led him through the crowd of armed soldiers, taking him back down to the lab. Bucky quietly sat down in the mindwipe chair with a sigh. Blix handed the sticky note to the nurse who stood nearby, watching him warily.

“Where do these need to go?” Blix asked her, holding up the wires.

The nurse pointed out where the nodes needed to go, and how to hook him up the machine. Once he was set, including his mouth guard, she glanced at the monitor.

“Is that set appropriately?” She asked the nurse.

The nurse glanced nervously at her and then at the still unconscious doctor. Blix frowned deeply.

“Fix it,” She quietly ordered her. “I’ll deal with that idiot later.”

The nurse made the adjustments, as Blix felt a hand brush against hers. She looked down to see his hand near hers. Her eyes flicked up to meet his before he settled into the chair.

“He’s ready,” The nurse tells her.

Blix nodded her head, telling her to proceed. She winced at his yells and turned around to leave. She stopped next to Brock and Pierce.

“I saw nothing, I know nothing, I don’t want anything to do with this,” She said in Spanish before continuing on.

*End Flashback*

“However, according to the both of them, they’ve ‘never seen the asset so compliant before.’ And insisted I become his new handler,” Blix concluded.

“So, you literally stumbled into that situation? Damn. Tough break. Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Sam asked curiously.

“My hands were tied. I had to sign many NDAs when I first joined, and I had to sign even more after that incident. I couldn’t say anything without putting myself into legal hell. Plus, no offense Steve, but we had never met. Would you have believed me if I came up to you, a complete stranger, and said ‘hey your best friend from the 40s is alive and I’m his handler?’ Cause… I feel like you wouldn’t,” Blix turned her attention to Steve.

Steve began to say something but stopped, sighing, “Honestly… probably not.”

“After I fished you out of the water, I went to her place. HYDRA, Pierce, they all thought that the mindwipes would erase everything, it doesn’t. I always, eventually, remembered everything. The longer I was awake the easier it was to recall. I had hoped… she wouldn’t hold it against me when I was ordered to hurt her, and help me,” Bucky added, his hands fiddling with the pockets on her cargo pants.

“Appeared in my apartment, like a damn ninja, soaking wet,” Blix said with a laugh. “I knew that he wasn’t in control of his actions. I forgave him a long time ago. I packed up the necessities, and we ran.”

“Hm. Interesting. So… the two of you, what? Spent the last 2 years hiding in various countries?” Steve asked curious.

“Yeah. Essentially. Couldn’t stay at my place. What was left of HYDRA knew of my location. So, we had to move,” Blix answered with a shrug. “Kept low profiles. We were in Romania for several months before you crashed into our apartment.”

The conversation died after that as they made their way to an airport. They parked in a garage nearby, waiting for backup. The four of them stepped out of the car to wait. Steve and Sam walked up to a white van that had pulled up. Bucky and Blix waited by the trunk, watching the interaction.

“This is our backup? Tsk. Times like these make me wish I had my STRIKE team,” Blix whispered in Romanian.

Bucky smiled, clearing his throat to stop the chuckle that tried to escape.

“Play nicely, doll. They are here to help us, after all,” He whispered back, nudging her slightly.

“Never,” She giggled.

Steve who heard the giggle, turned to them, waving them over. The 2 of them were introduced to everyone. Clint Barton/Hawkeye. Scott Lang/Antman. Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch.

She held her hand out to shake Wanda’s and a curious thing happened. Both of their powers activated as their hands hovered near each other, swirling around each other. It was almost like the wisps were playing with one another.

“Huh. Never seen that before. Think we just became best friends?” Blix said surprised.

“Me neither. I think we did,” Wanda said amazed.

The two of them smiled at one another, turning to the guys who had been watching.

“Well. That’s new,” Clint spoke first.

Before anything else could be said, they heard in the distance a voice asking for the airport to evacuate.

“Time to go to work it seems,” Blix announced walking over to the trunk, tossing it open.

She grabbed her bag that was set to the side, placed it on the hood of the car. She grabbed her bulletproof vest, and a corset that had adamantium boning. She grabbed Bucky and forced him to stand behind her, using his bulkiness to shield her from the others. Scott, Steve, and Clint looked away or turned around; Sam was busy getting his gear on, he glanced at her but otherwise paid her no mind.

She took off her shirt and clasped a few of the buttons on the corset first, before tossing her bra into her bag. She quickly finished clasping it, adjusting it briefly. She threw her shirt back on, followed by her bulletproof vest.

“Why exactly are you wearing a corset? Isn’t that… I don’t know. Uncomfortable?” Sam asked as he finished getting his gear sorted.

“The boning of it is made of adamantium. I learned early on that bulletproof only does so much,” Blix explained, as she grabbed her weapons.

She had twin Wakizashi blades, various knives, a gun she put on her hip and another on her thigh.

“I sense a story there,” Sam noted slyly.

“Are you a former soldier or a gossip columnist?” She asked him as she finished up.

She was tossing spare clips into various pockets and waited for the others to gear up as well. Wanda moved to stand next to her.

“May I ask about this story then? I’m guessing Sam has been interrogating you,” Wanda giggled slightly.

Blix glanced at her, making minor adjustments so everything sat comfortably.

“First solo assignment. Had to steal valuable information and eliminate the target. Got the info. But before I was able to eliminate the target, he managed to shoot me 3 times. Two of them broke ribs, the other managed to tear through the fabric and tried to rip through my left lung,” Blix answered, rubbing her side.

“The guys made jokes. Said I should get a bulletproof bra or corset. Knew a guy who owed me a favor. Got me a corset with adamantium boning. He sends me an updated version every couple of months. Showing up to training with that on, shut them all up real quick,” Blix smirked.

Wanda snickered in response, “I’ll bet.”

The guys finished gearing up, and they made their plan of attack, moving toward the hangers.

They were confronted by Stark and his allies.

“Wanda. Are you able to control the purple one? He doesn’t create a shadow, so I can’t control him,” Blix said softly to her.

Wanda nodded subtly, the two of them stepping forward after a kid appeared and stole Steve’s shield.

Blix held her hands out, taking control of the shadows around the others, while Wanda’s hands glowed bright red as she stopped Vision in his tracks.

“Split up. Now,” Blix ordered as she held everyone in their tracks.

“What the hell is this?” Tony asked as he tried to step forward but couldn’t.

Bucky and Sam went one way, Steve, Scott, and Hawkeye in another.

“Hm. Interesting. There appears to be a basement in this airport. Bye bye,” Blix teased as she opened portals directly beneath them, dropping them down.

Wanda shoved Vision down to join them, and then the 2 of them ran forward.

They ran past where Tony and his team had been originally, barely able to make it past before Vision resurfaced with the others. The 2 of them ran faster as they split up to start fighting.

T’Challa appeared suddenly swiping at her face. Blix whipped out her swords, blocking his hands left and right. She was doing well, until her right hand acted up. She had raised her hand up to block when it began to malfunction causing her to drop the sword. She winced as the spasms began to actually cause a bit of pain. T’Challa stopped fighting her, staring at her somewhat concerned.

She quietly sheathed one of her swords, picking the fallen one up, taking a stance once more with just her left hand. Before either of them could say or do anything, she hears Scott mention something about splitting himself in half?

She looked over toward him, confused and then shocked as she watched him become very large.

She used the distraction to teleport over to Bucky.

“I take back my previous statement. STRIKE team got nothing on this,” Blix panted.

Bucky chuckled, “Good to know. We got to get to the plane. Think you can teleport over there, and get her ready for liftoff? It might wind up being just the 3 of us.”

She salutes him with a grin, “Can do… Sergeant.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head, “Go… Commander.”

She slipped away, teleporting to the hanger, slipping inside the jet easily. She discreetly began to warm the ship up. She spotted Steve and Bucky racing toward her, after being stopped briefly by Natasha, they joined her onboard. She finished getting the ship ready before allowing to Steve take care control. Her and Bucky collapsed into the chairs behind him buckling up quickly.

They were just barely able to escape the fight, flying off to Russia.

Once they could breathe easy, Bucky turned to her, asking, “Your hand?” He had noticed she was favoring her left more.

She frowned, staring down at it, not wanting to admit it was hurting.

He held his hand out, wanting to look at it. She quietly placed her hand in his, he examined it for a moment. He pressed on a couple of locations, which slowly helped the hand relax and she was able to move it freely again.

She quietly thanked him, and he planted a kiss to her hand, with a smile.

A few hours later they were landing outside the bunker. They opened the ramp, and Steve and Bucky stopped for a moment. She listened to them talk about Coney Island, and the dates they had.

She shook her head at the two of them.

“You spent today’s equivalent of $50 on carnival games?” She asked him surprised. “Did you at least win her a prize?”

“Yeah. A creepy clown doll thing that she loved,” Bucky answered before asking noticing her frown. “Why?”

“… Should’ve had you take me on a date to Coney Island. Would’ve been less disappointing,” She muttered, walking out.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that, and Steve looked down to hide his smile.

“What happened?” Steve asked as they walked up to the door.

“… Date gone wrong. The guy spent $100 on four different games. Failed miserably with each one,” Blix grumbled. “I wound up spending $5 on a 5th game to win my own prize.”

Steve winced empathically, “That’s…. wow. Even I wasn’t that terrible.”

Steve ripped open the panel, and somehow got the doors opened. The 3 of them made their way in, Bucky and her walking up the stairs, turning around when Tony Stark had appeared. Bucky pointed his gun at him, while Blix’s hand hovered over her sword handles.

“Alright Manchurian Candidate and Satan’s Mistress calm down. Same team,” Tony said as the face guard lifted.

Blix gave him an unimpressed look, as she relaxed.

The four of them moved deeper into the bunker, walking into the chamber that held several glass containers, that had people in them, but none were alive.

“They died in their sleep, if that’s any consolation,” Came Zemo’s voice over the intercom.

The four of them stepped closer to the window, Zemo still speaking. He directed their attention to the monitor near them. It began to play footage… of Bucky killing Stark’s parents. Blix tensed moving to stand in front of Bucky.

“Don’t. Go after Zemo. Don’t get involved in this fight,” Bucky whispered, in a pained voice.

“I’m not leaving you,” Blix whispered back.

“Go. Please. I can’t risk you getting hurt,” Bucky quietly begged.

She glanced back at him, not wanting to do this, but she sighed seeing the look on his face. She disappeared and reappeared in the room Zemo had been in. She spotted the red book, abandoned. She grabbed it, as she followed the path that was before her. She winced every time she heard a loud crash or blast.

She had made her way back outside, and she spotted Zemo sitting down, listening to his phone.

She walked around to stand in front of him as T’Challa appeared.

Zemo quietly explained that his family died in the battle against Ultron.

“I’m sorry that you lost your family. I truly am. But you threw a man, who had nothing to with that battle, under a freight train. Just to get revenge on the Avengers. Do you really think your family would want that?” Blix questioned, waving her hand when she spotted his gun.

She summoned it into her hand, ejecting the clip and the bullet that was in the chamber.

“The living still have use for you,” T’Challa said grabbing him, and pulling him up.

She reached into one her pockets and pulled out zip-ties. She handed them to T’Challa and used them to make makeshift handcuffs.

“I need to go check on my guys. You got him?” She asked T’Challa.

T’Challa nodded, keeping a firm grip on Zemo’s shoulders.

Blix spent a moment, searching through the shadows, trying to find where they wound up. She found them, all 3 of them, on one of the upper levels. She teleported into the room, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the state of Bucky’s arm. She rushed over to him, as Steve hobbled over.

She sucked in a sharp breath, as she took in his state as well.

“Been through worse, if you can believe that,” Steve said with a wince as he knelt down.

The two of them lifted Bucky up, and they started to walk away.

“Wait,” She adjusted her grip on Bucky, leaning over to put a free hand on Steve. “Do me a favor. Don’t talk to any voice you hear.”

She teleported the 3 of them back up top. Steve made a face when they reappeared topside.

“I can understand Bucky’s discomfort. That was… nightmarish. Do you always hear that many voices?” Steve asked shaking his head, trying to clear the sounds from his mind.

“Yep. At the very least you were an adult when you experienced that for the first time. I experienced that when I was 7,” Blix replied with a fake smile.

“That’s… horrifying,” Steve responded as they began to make their way to the ship.

T’Challa was waiting for them, with Zemo. They climbed aboard and made their way back into Europe. A quick phone call to the agent that they had been working with, Sharon, came, and took Zemo off their hands. T’Challa then told Steve to go to Wakanda.

“We’re not being led to our doom here, yeah?” Blix confirmed, looking at him.

“No. The two of you will be safe,” T’Challa assured with a small smile.

When they arrived in Wakanda, they were led to an infirmary where the guys were treated for their injuries, and someone gently removed the remains of Bucky’s arm.

While they were tended to, T’Challa pulled her over to a table. A young woman appeared, attacking T’Challa in a hug. She watched them with a smile, and when they turned back to her T’Challa introduced her.

“This is my sister, Shuri. She will be helping take care of your arm, and Mr. Barnes,” He said proudly.

She stepped forward, telling her to place her arm on the table, flat. Blix does so, and Shuri taps on the table, bringing it to life. A light flashed over her arm, scanning it slowly.

Shuri stared at the info that was the presented once the scan was done.

“It appears nothing is physically wrong with the arm, so it must be in the chip meant to help you control it. The programming is off,” Shuri noted.

“The programming technically was never finished. Since they wanted to recondition me and turn me into a prettier version of Bucky. So…” Blix explained.

“Oh. Well then. We will just have to fix that and redo your arm, so it works more smoothly. Should be an easy fix. Thought you had something challenging for me brother dear,” Shuri teased.

He then began to explain Bucky’s issues and the conditioning that he needed removed. While they talked, Blix wandered back over to Bucky. She sighed in relief seeing him sitting up and looking more awake.

She stood in front of him, checking him over. He pulled her in close, his arm settling around her waist.

“They’re… talking about putting you in a cryotube. I hate seeing you go in those things,” Blix said lowly, her hands gripping onto his shirt tightly.

“It’ll be the last time. One more time, get rid of HYDRA in my head, and then it’s just you and me. Just us. And… when we are no longer considered wanted criminals… I’m going to take you to Coney Island, and take you on a proper date,” He said charmingly.

“Hm. I’m starting to think that it’s probably a good thing I didn’t know 40s you. A girl wouldn’t be able to handle such gentlemanly ways,” She teased fanning herself jokingly.

“In the 40s you would be my wife at this point,” Bucky pointed out.

“Oh? Is that so? Hmmm. Appears you need to make an honest woman outta me. We’re living in sin, it’s quite scandalous,” She said with a grin, kissing him on the lips.

He returned her smile, kissing back. They pulled away when they heard Steve clear his throat.

“I’ll give you 2 a minute,” She whispered, stepping away from them.

Steve walked over to Bucky.

“T’Challa apparently wants to make amends. He’s offering the both of you asylum and going to help fix you two up as well. Not sure how I feel about you going into deep freeze again,” Steve remarked with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah. I’m… I’m not safe. Not safe out there, or… around her,” He whispered the last part.

“… Never seen you look at a woman the way you do her. You actually going to marry her?” Steve asked quietly, smiling at him.

Bucky quietly reached into one of his pockets on his pants, and pulled out a small velvet pouch, handing it to him. Steve opened it, dumping it out onto his open palm. A small silver ring appeared; it had a green stone. He chuckled at the small raven and skull that decorated the sides of it.

Steve returned it to the bag and handed it back to him. Bucky held it in his hand, sighing softly.

“She’s… been there for me. For years. She’s put up with a lot and stayed by my side. She only left STRIKE because they had put her in danger,” Bucky said slowly. “She’s… she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Steve laughed lowly, causing Bucky to go, “What?”

“Just… 40s you was never interested in marriage or commitment. It’s nice to see you swoon over someone for a change,” Steve ribbed lightly.

“Shut it man,” He mumbled, somewhat embarrassed, with a short laugh.

Steve wished him luck and told him he’d be in contact. He had to go rescue the rest of his team.

Blix returned to his side, knowing that their time was limited until he went under again.

She stared at his closed hand, suspicious, but didn’t say anything until he presented it to her.

“Need you to keep something safe for me until I get out,” Bucky tells her with a secretive smile.

“Am I allowed to look in the bag?” She asked in a childlike tone.

“If you want,” Bucky allowed standing up.

She reached into it, pausing in her movements when she felt the item inside. She slowly pulled it out, taking a deep breath as she held it.

“… You sure you want to marry a hot mess like me?” She asked jokingly biting her lip.

“Yeah. Pretty sure,” He replied, his hand brushing along her jaw.

She slipped the ring onto her left hand and smiled brightly at it.

“Blix Barnes. Sounds more normal than Blix Lage. Less pretentious sounding, at least… Wait… how long have you had this?” Blix wondered staring up at him.

“Got it a week after we moved to Romania. Specifically, after that date when we hiked in Băneasa Forest, and you… bit your fingers trying to stuff 3 fries into your mouth,” Bucky reminded her, a smile growing on his face.

“That did it for you? Me being unladylike and stuffing my face? That’s when you thought, ‘imma seal the deal on this one’?” She was in disbelief.

He laughed at that, “Yep. You make me happy. An emotion I haven’t truly felt… in decades.”

She looked down, biting her lip, as she tried to hold in the tears that were trying to escape.

He gently bumped her chin up, making her look back up at him.

He leaned his forehead against hers, whispering, “Marry me?”

“Yes,” She replied with a smile that was growing.

He kissed her firmly at her answer, and she kissed back with as much enthusiasm. When they parted, she watched silently as the staff got him prepped for the cryotube before he stepped inside.

‘One last time.’ She quietly thought.

She watched with a slight wince as the tube closed and froze quickly. She stared at his face, sighing softly.

She turned to T’Challa and said, “So. What now?”

“Let’s get you settled someplace. Tomorrow we will begin the process of fixing your hand,” T’Challa informed her, offering his arm to her.

She politely took it, and he led her outside. She stared at everything with awe.

“Why ever would you want to leave here?” She asked craning her neck every which way trying to take in as much as she could.

She heard T’Challa chuckle softly, nodding in agreement.

“Ya know… was gonna ask if I was dreaming…. But then I realized… my imagination is not that great,” Blix admitted. “Not possible for me to dream something this beautiful.”

T’Challa thanked her quietly, leading her to a small place that was near a lake, goats roaming about.

“This should be big enough for the both of you. Either myself or my best warrior Okoye will be here in the morning to retrieve you. Sleep well Miss Blix,” He presented the home to her. “Also… congratulations.”

She smiled at him, walking further inside. She easily found the bedroom, and after stripping off most of her gear, she collapsed onto the bed. She slowly fell asleep, the events of the day catching up to her.  

[broken-clover]

Goretober Day 31- Glitch

I feel like I’m awkwardly limping over the finish line more than anything else. This has kind of been a messy year, but, I did ultimately finish! Thanks again to @starrycoffin for letting me use your prompt list! And I appreciate everyone’s patience with me, even though I feel like this month has been the equivalent of watching me have a daily breakdown screaming in my little corner. I’m not really sure if this is how the prompt works, but Raven is basically a glitch within the GG-verse, so I guess it works?

“And stay down!”

A hard boot slammed into the back of the poor sucker’s head, issuing an audible crunch as he went still against the concrete. Despite the horrible sound, the man on top of him grinned.

“Finally. Awful sturdy for a skinny bastard.” Removing his boot, he got to work slipping the weird jewelry off of his arms and rifling through his pockets in search for money. He’d given off the vibe of being some rich weirdo, so hopefully there’d be a good haul for it.

Not like it mattered all that much, anyway. Most of the police were too worried about Gear attacks rather than looking into random assault cases. Even if they were, by the time they would manage to start scraping things together, he would have been out of town already.

His eyes shone as he looked over the man’s pilfered rings. “Damn, these’ve gotta be ancient.” It was some kind of silver wrought into elaborate patterns, made with just enough imperfections that it had to be handmade. Despite their apparent age, though, they appeared to be in remarkable condition, kept at a pristine shine.

The guy’s wallet wasn’t much to sneeze at, just a couple hundred and not much more to be said. He didn’t care much. Based on the rings alone, he knew he’d be able to make a good haul. Jewelry was one thing, but antiques were something else entirely.

He rolled the body onto its back. Doing so revealed a shiny protrusion that jutted out from his forehead, vanishing behind gray bangs. It had been the reason why he’d caught sight of the man in the bar in the first place. What kind of weirdo wandered around with something like that taped to his head? It was just asking for trouble.

It was hard to tell what it was made of from a glance, though. All he could tell was that it was shiny. He reached out, grabbing onto the metal to try and pull it off.

A cold hand snapped around his wrist, holding on tight. He shouted in panic, yanking in an attempt to free himself. He realized the hand belonged to the man that he’d beaten into the pavement, somehow awake despite having been knocked out at best and spilling his brain matter out onto the sidewalk at worst.

He found himself staring into a pair of mismatched eyes. The bizarre horned man was smiling at him, somehow not screaming in pain.

“Can I have those back, please? They’re mine.”

As he spoke, the other man watched in horror as the crushed-in fragments of skull appeared to press back out, fusing once more into a normal shape like nothing had ever happened. A blood ritual?! Some kind of black magic?! It wasn’t anything like how healing magic was supposed to work.

The grip on his hand didn’t lessen. Panicking, he pulled the knife out of his hip sheathe and shoved it into the other’s chest, throwing himself in the opposite direction as hard as he possibly could to break out of his grip.

And absolutely nothing happened.

Well, he might have sprained his wrist from yanking so hard. But aside from that, he was still being gripped, and his knife slipped back out from between the man’s ribs with a wet squelch to drop into his lap. It was definitely bloodstained, but there was no sign of a wound.

“Can you please not do that?” The stranger sounded only moderately annoyed, like he’d accidentally bumped into him instead of beating him up, trying to mug his dead body, and then stabbing him. “It felt nice, but I actually like this shirt. I’d rather not have to stitch it up and wash the bloodstains out. Again.”

However, halfway through ‘it,’ the mugger had managed to finally pull himself loose, and he promptly ran off, screaming in terror and dropping everything he was carrying.

“...Well, I suppose that works, too.” Raven stood up and dusted himself off, thumping the back of his head to let the last few bone shards settle back into place. He picked up his rings and slid them back into place, and turned back towards the bar. Maybe he could use another drink or two. Hopefully nobody else would try and stab him, that was already the third time and it wasn’t even midnight yet!

[bloodfcst-a]

Is there a plot etc you really crave to write?

Y’all I have a lot of ideas so prepare in advance.

I know I certainly want to write with my modern verse a lot. 

I want to see Yuffie doing ordinary things, living an ‘ average ’ life because… in canon, she doesn’t have much of one. The only time she gets to be ‘ ordinary ’ is when she’s traveling around with a group of eco-terrorists who carry the name of a vigilante group who used her country as a bargaining chip against the enemy they’d just recently lost a war against. She needs some… average interactions with basic friends? That would be nice. @sharkapologlst @softestmood @cheiian + I know I’m forgetting others… but I’m looking at y’all !

I’ve talked about it a bit with @sharkapologlst & also @garrotejima ( @fatesrot you can bet I’m gonna drag you into this too ), but I made her a yakuza for a reason, and I want to write crime-based threads or yakuzie based threads. Part of it is bc… well, I’m not gonna lie, I’m a hoe for the Yakuza series. But also, nothing about Yuffie’s life is ordinary. She is a princess canonically, so I wanted that same sense of hierarchy to trickle down into modern era. We see Yuffie all the time getting down and dirty & in my assumptions of her, I think stealing / mugging / espionage is just really the top of it. I completely believe given the motivation and necessity, she would be capable of doing more. And I don’t want her to stoop down to just… a red light district girl. No, she’s definitely a person of importance, she’s definitely got something to defend more than familial honor, and she’s able to blend into her surroundings to get the job done. So… there’s that.

As for more ‘ canon-based ’ interactions? Let’s start with KH.

I’ve started experimenting a bit & reaching out to people, but I don’t think KH should be limited to just the restoration committee, because we see already she’s capable and involved in so many other things. That’s certainly the last place we see her, yes– but once Radiant Garden’s restored, then what? She may not be canonically a ‘ warrior of light ’ or ‘ princess of heart ’ ( that’s Square limiting themselves tbh ), but there’s certainly other roles for her to preside in. I’m sure Yuffie can be tech savvy, given that Cid’s her adoptive father figure. Why not help Ienzo? Or, we know that she’s capable of traveling to other worlds because she’s gone between Hollow Bastion/Radiant Garden, Olympus Coliseum, and Traverse Town without Sora’s help or “ the heart travels going to and from the body ” shenanigans. Have her travel to other places! Sora doesn’t need to be the only person collecting Ansem’s reports, for example. Sora and Riku also don’t need to be the only people going to different worlds and fighting the Heartless. For the whole “no meddling” rule to exist, Yuffie’s done plenty of that already in canon and no one’s critiqued her. Let’s keep it up.

Also, KH interactions in general. @dawnled @thekeybladehero , other KH muses… let’s make it happen. 

Also, I know I’ve bothered @idno41269 about this, but uh… if you’re an FF character and you wanna interact in the realm of KH? Let’s make it happen scoobs.

As for the Compilation… I guess there are things I’d like to do, but not sure if threads or meta are the best way to go about it? Maybe even some drabbles from time to time. But here are some things to consider for sure:

Yuffie’s relationship with the Shin-Ra is complex. Because, certainly, as a corporation she thinks they’re evil for what they did to Wutai. She doesn’t agree with the concept of mako reactors, and has seen what they do to the planet– they’re not harmonious. But? Recall that when she’s in the pagoda stealing bombs that AVALANCHE has planted & returns them to the Player Turk, she’s conflicted not because of the Turks, but because by an extension she’s now helping the Shin-Ra…. She’s personally fine with Tseng, Reno, Rude, Cissnei, etc. I HC that the Turks were quite polite to Yuffie during the Negotiation Era. But certainly her feelings would be messy, especially in a post-war future where WRO is receiving funds from Shin-Ra, and the assumption later that the Shin-Ra are still an influential organization with an abundance of wealth, and thus access to resources. She will have to partner with them at one point or another to restore and create a better planet. But all the feelings in between are… wild, and I think it would be really fun to elaborate on that in more detail.

The “Treasure Princess Era.” Roughly from ages 9-13 you have Yuffie just… roaming the world, finding locations of suspiciously powerful treasures that Rufus has leaked to Godo, but her dad’s too shaken up to act on. That’s a lot to unpack right there. She’s traveling the world alone at 9. Who is supporting her? We know Zack, when it comes to the actual treasures, but what about the in-between? Her actually navigating, where is she staying, how is she viewed and how do people interact with her in a fresh-outta-war society? To anywhere with Shin-Ra influence, Wutaians were the enemy… do they spare her because she’s a child, or does she still see that wrath? I HC that as a teenager, certainly she would, and I’d like to write about that more later. But in her earlier years… I think that’s definitely some curious stuff to write about.

My default verse might be post-Compilation, but I’m still interested in writing things during it. Shenanigans on the Original Journey, stuff with like On a Way to a Smile, Advent Children, Dirge of Cerberus, etc etc. 

There’s stuff that doesn’t like… neatly fall into these organization bins, right? Like, I love Ace Attorney and Devil May Cry and Metal Gear Solid, so I’d have to work a bit on figuring out how interactions with those fandoms would work. And I follow other characters & fandoms too. At the end of the day… if I’m following you, I’m intrigued by you and would be interested in writing with you at some point or another. So while I hope this gives you some ideas, I would encourage you to just poke me, or send a meme, or interact with an inbox or plotting call… something that would foster some interaction between us and further our writing relationship.

This was wordy, but I hope this is okay! Thanks for sending this in!

[lesbrarians]

GenFic:: A Proposition

Title: A Proposition 

Pairing: (Sort of?? Vaguely mentioned) Ai/Javik

Characters:  Ai Shepard, Javik, Grist (cameos by K. Shepard, Sam Shepard, and Tiffany Shepard bc MultiShep verse)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Ai and Javik spend their shore leave examining the ship, when they find an unwelcome visitor in their private hideaway. Warnings for dead bodies and general unsanitariness 

--- 

"Okay, I'm not saying I'm gonna trounce your ass at Shattered Eezo… but I'm gonna trounce your ass at Shattered Eezo," K said. After a particularly taxing mission chasing down mercs on Omega, the Normandy crew was gearing up to enjoy some well-earned shore leave, and K had her heart set on visiting the Castle Arcade.  "C'mon, look at me." She flexed her biceps. "I'm a Bruiser, you really think I'm gonna lose at a punching game?"

"First of all," Tiffany began. "It's an arcade game. Your muscles mean nothing here. Secondly, you've never seen me play. I'm good. You don't stand a chance."

K laughed. "Them's fighting words, Tiff."

"Loser buys the drinks!" Sam chimed in as the three of them exited the Port Observation Room lounge.

"What-- you're not even playing!" Tiffany exclaimed.

"I mean, I'm game," K said. "Win, lose, I get alcohol either way, so really, it's a win-win--"

They rounded the corner and ran squarely into Ai and Javik, who were leaving the mess hall.

"Hey guys!" Sam said brightly. Tiffany was diplomatic in her hello, while K just mumbled something under her breath that could have been what's up, or it could have been oh god.

"Samantha," Javik said, nodding at her. Ai lifted her chin slightly in acknowledgment. "We were just discussing shore leave plans."

K had been pregaming in the lounge, and what little self-restraint she possessed was completely out the window. "Oh, no you don't," she said, pointing at Javik before swinging her finger over to Sam. "You chose them over us last time. The three of us are going out, I'm beating Tiffany at Shattered Eezo, then we're getting shitfaced at some expensive bar somewhere, because I won't be the one paying for it."

"Wow, K," Tiffany said, shaking her head at her.  

Sam grimaced apologetically at Ai and Javik. "Yeah, sorry…"

They both stared at her in response, as if hoping she would come to her senses.

The five of them stood at an impasse outside the elevators, the seconds dragging out interminably.

Sam clapped her hands to break the tension. It wasn't entirely successful. "Okay! Okay, I'll catch up with you guys later, I promise. We can do our plans then!"

Ai stared at her unflinchingly, tilting her head slightly.

Sam sighed. "The neutral face of displeasure. Alright, I'll just be a few hours, then I'll find you guys, I swear!"

Tiffany called for the elevator. K whistled to fill the awkward silence as they waited for it to arrive.

Sam’s perky voice floated through the elevator doors as they slid shut behind the trio. "See, everyone's happy!"

"I'm not," Javik said, his voice dark with displeasure.

Ai said nothing, but she privately agreed.. She couldn’t understand what Samantha saw in Tiffany and K -- Tiffany was a goody two-shoes with all kinds of disgusting traits like proper morals and honor and loyalty. K was more unscrupulous, but she was obnoxious and had no filter to speak of.

"A poor decision on Samantha's part," Javik continued.

"She will regret it." Her flat tone made it impossible to tell whether it was a threat or simply a statement of fact.

"I suppose we'll wait for her, although she doesn't deserve our magnanimity."

Ai nodded once. She didn't particularly care for visiting the Citadel during the day anyway, and despite Javik's insult, Sam's presence was desirable, especially when they went ashore.

Javik locked eyes with her, and Ai returned the stare, stoic and unblinking, an unspoken challenge.

Javik's lower two eyes remained fixed on her, but the other two wandered up to linger on her hair in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I suppose we'll just have to find an… alternative way to entertain ourselves."

"You are revolting," Ai informed him. They both knew this didn't necessarily constitute a "no," but she wasn't feeling charitable today.

Her eyes flicked over to Life Support. She'd broken the standoff between them, but she couldn't stand looking at his disgusting face for even a second longer. She consoled herself with the fact that this one loss meant nothing; she was still the superior one and had prevailed countless other times.

Ai stared at her quarters for a fraction of a second, then glanced back at Javik, who had an insufferable expression on his face.

She turned on her heel and called for the elevator.

It was a scathing rejection, refusing to invite him to her room that was barely ten feet away from where they stood. Life Support was where they had most of their… encounters, for lack of a better word. It gave her the most control over the situation. Pointedly denying Javik access to that space shut down any possibility of anything happening between them that day.

Ai could feel Javik's eyes boring holes into the back of her head as they boarded the elevator, and the corner of her mouth quirked up into the faintest hint of a schadenfreudian smile.

"We may as well take advantage of the empty ship. Inspect it top to bottom." She needed to make sure everything was in proper working condition, and she couldn't be thorough when there were eyes everywhere.

The elevator rumbled to a halt on the fourth deck of the ship, where the port side cargo room served as Javik's quarters and the bowels of the ship as their lair.

They exited the elevator and resumed walking, hands clasped behind their backs and a Sam-sized space between them so that there was no possibility of accidental contact. They didn't need to speak to know exactly where they were going.

They descended the stairs to the engineering sub-deck.

At the bottom of the steps, Javik stopped so suddenly that Ai nearly ran into him.

"Something is not right," he said.

The spike of irritation she'd felt dissipated. She still didn't trust Javik fully (for all his talk of loyalty, she wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't stab her in the back), but she did trust his ability to read people and the environment, as disturbingly creepy as it was.

Her gaze swept the space, searching for anything out of the ordinary. "Elaborate."  

Javik took a few cautious steps forward and bent down, fingers grazing against the metal floor.

“Death," he said, straightening out. "The DNA of a… human male. A gifted biotic. Did a member of your crew die here?”

Ai could think of one or two former crew members who matched that description. “Regrettably, no.”

"The residue is strong. Recent. He was not honored in death."

Ai was not often made to feel ill at ease, but a strange apprehension stirred in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was psychosomatic, but she was beginning to think she smelled the stench of decay, and if it was Javik just getting into her head, she didn't appreciate it. She called up her omni-tool and scanned the ground. She trusted her technology more than she trusted Javik's psychometry.

The scanner chirped in response to organic matter. Imperceptible specks of skin and hair lit up on the orange holo-display of her omni-tool with the readings: "Data: 100% Human."

Ai lifted the scanner. The flakes of rotting organic matter continued in a meandering trail, as if the corpse had shuffled around aimlessly.

Death did not faze Ai. She didn't bat an eye at a bloated corpse or decomposing remains. But she preferred it to be at her own hands. Her germophobia went strangely quiet when she knew that she was the cause of the gore -- she could revel in the blood that she'd spilled.  

But when it was of someone else's doing, there was no triumph or pride attached, and while there was small comfort in feeling superior to the dead, regardless of whether or not she'd killed them, her aversion to uncleanliness won out over her egotism.

So when the path ended at the panel in the floor that led to the hidden room where she, Sam, and Javik so often convened, her mouth went dry. She did not invite anyone into her personal space, she did not invite disease into her personal space, and if someone had stuffed a dead body--

A loud clang rang out from below. The panel that led to their secret hideaway thumped rhythmically as whatever was inside struggled to get out.

If Ai had a heart, it would have been in her throat. As it was, she was only mildly alarmed. For one brief, ludicrous moment, the part of her that watched far too many East Asian horror vids stupidly thought "kyonshī."

The next moment, her rational side wanted to shoot herself.

The panel gave way. Something burst out with an unholy screech, its gaunt face twisted like a grotesque Halloween mask, with too many teeth and a flattened snout of a nose.

Ai fired an explosive round from her omni-tool at precisely the same time as Javik biotically yanked the thing in the air and slammed it to the floor. Ai hissed out a curse as the incineration blast clipped its target on the arm.

The creature howled, clutching its arm and retreating to the shadows the second it wrangled free from the glowing green aura of Javik's biotics. In the low, red light of the ship's underbelly, it was hard to tell what it was at first, little more than a dark silhouette of something spiny and vaguely human shaped skulking in the corner. Only when it turned its attention on her and attacked again did she realize what it was -- a charcoal-colored vorcha with sickly green, mottled markings and lurid red eyes to rival her own.

Javik didn't interfere when the vorcha pounced this time, allowing her to fend for herself. She lashed out at the vorcha with an incendiary backfist, causing it to recoil.

It dropped something. Ever the tactician, Ai quickly looked down to assess it before snapping her attention back up to her target. A human ear.

Rage flared up in Ai, a sudden spike of violent emotion at the knowledge that her sanctuary -- their sanctuary -- had been violated. Every warning bell in her head was clanging, counting off everything that made this such an egregious offense: invasion of her privacy, by an alien, bearing a scavenged corpse and filth. Contamination.

"Kill it!" she barked. She switched gears on her omni-tool, transforming it into a forked blade.

With a great, rippling shockwave, Javik bodily threw the vorcha against the wall. Ai had the impression that he was doing his best to put as much distance between them as possible. She couldn't fault him for the tactic, given that her preferred battlefield combat style consisted of sentry turrets, drones, and her trusty sniper rifle.

Ai couldn't figure out whether the vorcha was resilient, or just too stupid and stubborn to know when to give up. He picked himself back up, shook his head violently, and dodged Javik's next biotic attack by leaping onto a support beam. The sub-deck was too small a space for a full blown fight, and the vorcha quickly sealed the distance between them.

All four of Javik's eyes widened as the vorcha sprang at him, feral and bloodthirsty.

Javik snagged him in self-defense, just as the vorcha latched onto his arm.

He froze.

---

His sensory ability was a gift. A single touch could transmit a lifetime of memories, experiences, ideas at a speed that would liquefy the brains of inferior species. As he read the vorcha, he was hurled into several simultaneous memories, with the most recent standing out in his consciousness.

The gritty streets of Omega. Fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the vorcha scurried through the lowermost alleys of the Kenzo district. A wasted human in the throes of a creeper high, mumbling to himself about all the colors he could see. The vorcha's interest was piqued by the latter, but he kept going. He hopped over a barrier and rounded a corner to find a nest of vorcha. The space was teeming with dozens of vorcha, a tight-knit mass that he had to pick his way through.

He didn't make it very far.

A larger, older vorcha stood up from where he was squatting and conversing with other members of their clan.

He pushed the vorcha, a direct challenge, and a full-out brawl ensued that ended with the vorcha flat on his back and gasping for air.

"No more room!" the other vorcha hissed. "We no space for you. You start own clan!"

Physically subjugated, he ducked deferentially as he climbed to his feet. “O-kay. I leave. I leave now.”

He slunk away from the nest, away from his home. Javik could feel the emotions roiling in him. Just simple anger and sadness; he was too dim for a very nuanced outlook on the sudden rejection.

"Poor, poor me," the vorcha muttered. "All alone…"

Javik had heard that language before. The same primitive tongue. His brain leapt unbidden to past memories, neurons firing rapidly and sewing together connections as he cycled through the Echo Shards he had had the privilege of experiencing. He had been born in the heart of war, long after the fall of the great Prothean Empire. Most of his knowledge of his people and their subordinate races came from the memory shards passed between Protheans. The shards he'd received from his fellow warriors, then passed on, let him live the glory of the empire that he'd never experienced. They let him see old triumphs and conquests and joy in the days of a happy people, before the Reapers came -- and they gave him an intimate knowledge of other species: the races they had dominated and assimilated into their empire, the primitives they'd studied, and the lesser species that were good for nothing but food. Their memories became his, then he passed the torch to another warrior.

He'd heard that language before. A vision of the Prothean scientist who had visited the uninhabitable planet of Heshtok to observe its sapient life, discovering the vorcha.

Fifty thousand years.

He had witnessed the demise of his people, risen from their ashes, walked amongst races thousands of times more advanced than their ancestors, the ones he had grown to know from Echo shards of old.

Fifty thousand years, and the vorcha hadn't changed one bit.

---

He hesitated for the briefest of seconds.

Needle-sharp teeth sank into his arm.

The noise Javik made upon returning to the present was undignified and entirely unbefitting of a Prothean. He threw off the vorcha with a bright green biotic blast.

"Pitiful," Ai spat in his direction. She wasn't sure who she was more disgusted with: Javik for freezing in the face of an enemy, herself for going soft and trusting someone else, or the vermin they needed to exterminate.

She should have known better than to trust someone else to do the job. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself, and Ai always had to do everything herself.

She jammed her forked omni-blade against the vorcha's throat, pinning him against the wall. With a guttural, horrific gagging sound that made Ai's ears bleed, the vorcha thrashed about, sharp claws scrabbling at her arm.

She stood her ground and sent a jolt of electrical energy surging through the omni-blade -- unfortunately, it wasn't powerful enough to roast the vorcha alive, but it was enough to stun him.  

All Ai needed to do was drive the blade through his trachea before he bounced back from the shock to his system, but she was so consumed by rage that it was becoming very difficult to concentrate on the target before her. Javik’s incompetence was blinding her. This was why she didn’t get involved with people. Social connections were so tiring. They kept you from focusing on what was really important.

Senseless violence and the eradication of useless alien scum.

In one swift motion, she pulled back and summoned up a combat drone to take her place. The vorcha lunged for the tech drone, only to howl and retreat as he was zapped. He hunched over in the corner to lick his wounds.

Ai rounded on Javik. Her tech drone was equipped with mass effect fields that allowed it to levitate safely out of the vorcha's grasp, and it was trained to open fire at the slightest movement from its target, which bought her enough time to yell at her companion.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," she snarled. "You could have compromised everything, you useless idiot!"

"I was studying the enemy," Javik answered by way of explanation, his voice even. "And I had the situation under control, that was just a minor setback."

Ai sneered. "You lost control of the situation the moment that hideous piece of vermin bit you. Studying the enemy. An involuntary reading, then. Those garbage powers make you a liability on the battlefield."

Javik bristled. "False. If anything, they are an asset, not a liability. When I choose to use them--" Perhaps anticipating Ai's reaction, he raised his voice and soldiered on to explain, "--In the sense that I ordinarily choose long-range biotics to avoid triggering them -- I can read my enemies in an instant, witness their last memories, discover their battle strategies--"

"--become incapacitated and attacked--"

"For a split second, and I retaliated!" Javik retorted.

They stared each other down, both simmering with barely restrained anger.

Javik took a deep breath and continued. "Regardless, my momentary lapse of attention was due to a… revelation."

Ai was at odds with herself. Her fury at what she perceived to be weakness on Javik's part conflicted with her drive to know everything and thirst for knowledge.

Curiosity won out. "Explain," she said.

"Vorcha. They... haven't evolved."

She was seized by a sudden desire to roll her eyes, smack Javik, or both. She settled for a derisive scoff and folded her hands behind her back. She'd already lost control of herself today; she needed to rein herself back in. "I could have told you that," she said. "They don't evolve."

She turned her head to look at the vorcha. He hadn't learned his lesson and was still attempting to attack the drone, with disastrous results.

Javik did not look thrilled to learn that his epiphany meant nothing to Ai, but he continued his train of thought regardless. "I can see how all the species in this cycle have evolved, except for them. Before the war, my people studied primitive species. Groomed them. Before offering them the... choice of joining the empire."

Her face remained as blank a mask as ever, but Ai exhaled through her nose, a faint huff that was the closest she ever came to a laugh. A "choice." Amusing.

"We were in the midst of studying this cycle's species when the Reapers arrived. Humans. Asari. Krogan. Never the vorcha." He paused. "Not the lizard people, either. I still don't know how they managed to evolve."

"You failed to account for their freakish metabolism." She allowed herself a faint smirk. She didn't care for salarians, to say the least, but it was entertaining to see just how badly the Protheans had misjudged a race known for its intelligence. "A grotesque miscalculation on your part. Embarrassing."

"The point," Javik said, "is that the vorcha were primitive then and they are primitive compared to your allegedly advanced species now."

The vorcha squatted on his haunches and sprang upright, hands scrabbling over his head in a desperate bid to reach the drone.

They watched him in silence for a few seconds, neither of them able to come up with an appropriately scathing comment for the spectacle in front of them.

"What is their purpose in this cycle?" Javik finally asked.

"Cannon fodder." Ai did not mince words.

Javik gave an appreciative hum. "The strong dominate the weak. The weak become a tool for the strong, then perish. The Cosmic Imperative. Perhaps you humans share more similarities with Protheans than I thought."

"Other humans, maybe. I am without equal." She flicked her eyes down the length of Javik's body, then back up to meet his gaze. "An alien could never compare. No matter their ideals."

"Our strategies are the same. You use vorcha as 'cannon fodder.' Their species is not strong enough to thrive alone. They are expendable. In my cycle, weak links became resources. When the Reapers were busy conquering the weak, they were not watching us. It was the logical tactic."

"That does not make us equals. I am still superior."

"You are a fool," Javik said, and Ai was struck with another twinge of irritation. "No, we are not equals. You're still a primitive. If my warriors survived the cull, we would have reclaimed the galaxy. You would be under my command right now."

"I would sooner kill myself than be under your control," Ai said, and she meant every word of it. "I am not one of your weaklings to conquer and discard. I am above that."

There was a clattering noise, and both of them sharply turned their heads to look at the vorcha, having gotten so wrapped up in their disagreement that they'd nearly forgotten about its catalyst.

The vorcha had sat down, beaten into submission and drained of its bloodlust.

"This is not finished," Javik said.

Ai inclined her chin in agreement. It was a temporary peace treaty, she supposed. Neither one of them would forget the argument until it reached its bitter end.

"The question now is: what do we do with this… thing?" Contempt dripped from his voice.

It was a valid question. "We could still kill it." It wouldn't be quite as satisfying as killing it in the heat of battle, but it was still an option -- and given the vorcha's aggression, she suspected it would put up a fight even if they had subdued it for now.

"We could," Javik agreed, his voice as casual as if the two of them were discussing what to have for dinner.

"Or--"

She paused, noting how the vorcha's eyes slid over to the two of them. His gaze was sharp, focused, and she was suddenly acutely aware of his intelligence, limited as it was. She'd grown careless with her words, having already dismissed the vorcha as a mindless, savage creature.

She did a quick visual scan of her drone and, satisfied that it would keep the vorcha in line if he got unruly again, she shifted to face Javik. "We need to speak privately." She held up her hand. "Keep it brief, I don't want to touch you any longer than absolutely necessary."

Javik ignored the jibe. Ai was still irritated with him, not to mention uncomfortable with the very concept of linking minds. Her mind belonged to her, and welcoming another person into her innermost thoughts was deeply disconcerting. It wasn't just invasive, it was intimate, and Ai had no experience with intimacy. It was unnatural to her.

Javik touched the pads of her fingers with his own three fingertips.

Ai closed her eyes as she entered the dreamlike state of mind she had, on more than one occasion, shared with Javik and Sam.

What did you want to tell me? Javik's voice sounded in her head.

She did her best to carefully wipe her mind of all thoughts, save for the words she wanted to share with him. There's another option besides killing it. It is beyond idiotic, but it was a worthy adversary. We could bend it to our will.

Use it as cannon fodder.

Exactly.

It could prove useful. It may even be agreeable to being a pawn. Allow me to share with you one of its memories.

He transmitted the vorcha's last memory, and Ai watched as the vorcha was rejected from his clan. A pitiful display. Agreed, a new start may make it more amenable to our cause.  

Indeed.

Enough talk. Get out of my head.

Ai pulled her fingers away, severing the connection between her and Javik. She had all the information she needed, and she didn't need to linger. For some reason, the encounters were more bearable with Sam involved.

She motioned at Javik, who stepped forward. "You, vorcha--"

"Grist!" the vorcha hissed. He might have been docile, but he was no less terrifying.

Javik and Ai looked at each other. Ai was not the type of person who asked questions. If she asked a question, it was a demand for information, never an admission of ignorance -- she hated looking like she didn't know everything all of the time. She was supposed to be flawless, not some simpleton who was easily puzzled or thrown off guard.

So she was pleased when Javik asked the question: "Is that… a word?" It was difficult to tell whether he was communicating with them, or if the sound was another one of his primal noises.

The vorcha thumped his chest with one clawed hand. "My name Grist."

Javik’s lip curled. “The primitive speaks at last.”

The harsh cry that Grist emitted in response made Ai grind her teeth. "Why use words when teeth?" He bared his teeth at them to demonstrate how useful they were in combat. Unnaturally long and spiny, they were crusted with blood.

Repulsive, Ai thought.

"Too many words." Grist clutched his head and shook it vigorously.

Ai suspected that combat was his preferred communication style simply because his grasp of language was not nuanced enough. Javik was right, as loathe as she was to admit it; vorcha were primitive.

Regardless, she needed words from him. "I do not care." She took a step towards him.

Perhaps it was her generally menacing presence, or the fact that he overheard them discussing the possibility of killing him, but Grist did not react well. "Back!" he snarled, hackles raised. "Back! You no come closer! I kill you!"

As if you would succeed, Ai thought to herself, but she kept silent and retreated. Grist settled down, apparently reassured, if still wary of her motives. "Tell me why you are on my ship," she said, attempting to regain control of the situation.

"Grist clan too big," he said morosely. "No room on Omega. Find ship, sneaky sneaky, hide away. Then go to new planet, make new clan!"

Ai was not going to question the logistics of this plan. The thought of vorcha breeding -- anyone breeding, really -- revolted her. "That doesn't explain the corpse."

Grist gave her a toothy grin. "Food," he said. "Me hungry."

Of course. She didn't know why she even asked. Of course the scavenger brought a dead human on board the ship as sustenance. Or part of a human, at any rate; Ai couldn't imagine him sneaking on board with a full corpse, and oh, she would have words with whoever had been guarding the ship while they were on Omega. She was not looking forward to seeing how, exactly, he had besmirched her hideaway.

Grist reached into a pouch on his hip and pulled out a severed human finger. Ai sharply inhaled, the closest she came to a gasp or exclamation of moral outrage.

He nibbled on it until he noticed Ai staring at him with murder in her eyes. He looked down at the half-chewed finger. Looked back at Ai. Extended the dessicated finger bone out to her.

Some people would have viewed it as a proverbial olive branch, and an unusually civilized gesture for a vorcha. Ai viewed it as a heinous insult to everything she held dear: cleanliness, logic, not sharing food with an alien.

"I am going to kill it," she announced, calling up her omni-tool. Grist was too busy sucking the last meat off the bone to notice her threat.

"Don't," Javik warned her.

Ai fixed him with a look. She was seized with the urge to ignore him and kill the vorcha anyway purely to spite Javik. She did not like being ordered about and actively disobeyed any direct orders she received.

But logic was stronger than rage, in this particular instance, and she deactivated her omni-tool. "I am not doing this because you told me to," she informed Javik. "I am doing this because I have reassessed the situation and come to the same conclusion."

"If that helps you sleep at night," Javik said, and, not for the first time, Ai questioned why she chose the company of such a smug bastard.

They looked down at Grist. He was chewing on his arm, his burn wounds already blistering.

Javik turned back to Ai, his jaw set. There was only one thing they could do. "Get Samantha."

[olaluwe]

Shadia Bseis

      World Wrestling Entertainment Inc. signed its first female performer from the Arab world on Sunday, smashing cultural taboos as the U.S.-based pageant seeks to piledrive its way into lucrative foreign markets. Shadia Bseiso, a Jordanian versed in jiu-jitsu, dreams of encouraging more Arab women to take up sports – and of one day maybe even crashing a metal chair over WWE mega-star John Cena. “Female athletes are finally getting the credit they deserve. The world is more open to that, and in terms of how the region will react to it, I‘m hoping its going to be very positive,” said Bseiso. Women exercising in public is rare in the Arab world and the local entertainment industry often relegates them to docile roles. However, big companies such as Nike have stepped up advertising geared towards female athletes. Still, the high octane physicality and outrageous storylines of professional wrestling remain a novelty in the region. Speaking to Reuters in the WWE’s Dubai office, Bseiso said she made sure to tell her parents about her colourful career choice in person. After announcing she would join the ranks of the WWE, they paused in disbelief for a moment, she said, worried for her safety in the often bruising shows. They support her fully, she added, as she now heads to the company’s training centre at Orlando in Florida for gruelling in-ring training and what WWE calls “character development”. This is for her transformation into one of their trademark big personalities. She has a Jordan-themed persona in mind, she says, declining to elaborate. For decades a quintessential if curious emblem of Americana, professional wrestling has now won die-hard fans in the Arab world and beyond, and features widely in apparel and toys. WWE’s reach deeper into new demographics makes plenty of business sense for the $1.5 billion Connecticut company, which has also recently signed several Indian and Chinese athletes. This is in the hope of snaring millions of potential new devotees. “Recruiting Shadia to join our developmental system underscores WWE’s ongoing commitment to building a talent roster as diverse as our fan base,” said Paul “Triple H” Levesque, WWE Executive Vice President and himself a popular wrestler. Bseiso insists the quirky genre has room to expand if only fans could find a hero from home. “As it is, the WWE’s incredibly popular in the Middle East, but I think having athletes from the region who grew up here — it will change things. You finally have someone to root for.”(Reuters/NAN)

[vbarbershopfranchise-blog]

Why Every Man Should Go to a Barbershop

For the past few months, I’ve been having my haircut at various barbershops. For most of my life, I went to unisex salons that reeked of perm chemicals and mousse. Every time I’d go, I’d walk away with a bad haircut. On top of that, I always felt out of place. Most of the clients were usually women and a woman was cutting my hair. I’d just go in, sit there silently while the person cut my hair, and leave.

I don’t know why I stopped going to a barber franchise. As a child, I went to a barbershop on the main street in my hometown. It was called “The Friendly Barbershop.” I remember being fascinated with all the barber stuff. What I remember most though, was the distinct manliness of the place. Even as a young child, I could sense that a barbershop was a cool hang out for men. Twenty years later, I’m rediscovering the barbershop. You should too.

A Brief History of Barbershops

The 1880s to the 1940s were the golden age for barber shop franchise. During this time, men socialized in all-male hangouts, and barbershops rivaled saloons in popularity. Visiting the barbershop was a weekly, and sometimes daily habit. Men would stop in not only for a haircut and a shave, but also to fraternize with friends and chew the fat.

During this golden age, barbershops were classy places with often stunning surroundings. Marble counters were lined with colorful glass-blown tonic bottles. The barber chairs were elaborately carved from oak and walnut, and fitted with fine leather upholstery. Everything from the shaving mugs to the advertising signs were rendered with an artistic flourish. The best shops even had crystal chandeliers hanging from fresco painted ceilings.

Despite this level of luxury, hair cut franchises were homey and inviting. A memorable and heavenly man aroma filled the air. The smell of cherry, wintergreen, apple, and butternut flavored pipe and tobacco smoke mixed with the scent of hair tonics, pomades, oils, and neck powders. These aromas became ingrained in the wood and every cranny of the shop. The moment a man stepped inside, he was enveloped in the warm and welcoming familiarity. He was immediately able to relax, and as soon as the hot lather hit his face, his cares would simply melt away.

The Decline

The first blow to barbershops came in 1904 when Gillette began mass marketing the safety razor. Their advertisements touted the razor as more economical and convenient than visiting the barbershop. The use of safety razors caught on, and during World War I, the US government issued them along with straight razors to the troops. Having compared the two razors size by side, upon returning home from the front many soldiers discarded both the straight razor and their frequent trips to the hair cut franchise. Going to the barber for a shave became a special occasion instead of a regular habit.

In the decades after WWI, several other factors combined to weaken the place of the barbershop in society. Companies like Sears began selling at-home haircutting kits, and mom began cutting Junior’s and Pop’s hair. Then the Depression hit, and people cut back on discretionary spending like barber shaves. The loss of male lives in the World and Korean wars also shrunk barbers�� pool of clientele. Then in the 1960s Beatlemania and the hippie culture seized the country, and hairstyles began to change. Men started to grow their hair longer and shaggier, and their visits to the barber became infrequent or non-existent.

Even when short hair came back into style during the 1980s, men did not return en masse to the barbershop. Instead, a new type of hairdresser siphoned off the barbers’ former customers: the unisex salon. Places like “SuperCuts” which were neither beauty salons nor barbershops, catered to both men and women. Many states’ licensing boards accelerated this trend by ceasing to issue barber licenses altogether and instead issuing a unisex “cosmetologist” license to all those seeking to enter the hair cutting profession.

Why Every Man Should Go To A Barber Shop

A barber knows how to cut a man’s hair. If you’re like most men these days, you’re probably going to some unisex chain salon like Supercuts. I used to do it too. Most of the time, I’d walk out of these places with a crappy haircut. Sometimes, my haircut would look decent for the first week or so, but then it would grow out into a horrible bowl.

The problem is that many of the people who work at salons are not trained barbers. They’re cosmetologists. The difference between the two can spell the difference between a dopey-looking haircut and a great one.

A barber is trained to cut with clippers, the main tool in cutting a man’s hair. Cosmetologists, on the other hand, are trained to use scissors. Their training is also geared towards catering to women’s hair. They become experts in styling, coloring, and perming — things a man has no need for. That’s why when you ask the cute stylist at SuperCuts to use the number 2 on the clippers, you walk away with a bad haircut. She’s probably not well versed in how to use them. But a haircut franchise can employ the clippers with finesse.

It’s a great place to chew the fat with other men. When I went to hair stylists, I hardly ever talked to the woman who cut my hair. I’d chat about my family and theirs and that’s about it. The woman who cut my hair usually ended up chatting with the other women in the salon, while I sat there awkwardly.

Barbers, on the other hand, are interesting guys with interesting stories to tell. On my visits to the barber shop, I’ve met a retired Army Ranger colonel, a musician who spent 13 years on the road in a jazz band, and a man who is the third generation in his family to take up the profession. Each of them had fascinating stories to share. And I in turn feel at ease to say what’s on my mind. There is conversation about politics, cars, sports, and family. Guys read the newspaper and comment on current events. In between the banter, jokes are told and laughs are had. And everyone is involved: the barbers, the customers getting their haircut, and the customers waiting to get their haircut. Adding to the enjoyment is that a variety of men take part in the conversation; young, old, and middle-aged join in the mix.

I think there’s a good argument that old fashioned barber shop are among America’s last civic forums. Where do people go today just to talk with others in the community? Coffee shops? Every time I go to a coffee shop, people are at their own tables minding their own business. The only other place that I can think of is a bar, but bars are now co-ed instead of being bastions of manliness.

You can get a great shave. Many barbershops still give traditional single-blade razor shaves. You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced the pleasures of a great shave at a barber. This past weekend, I went to a barber here in town to get a shave. I reclined in the plush old school barber chairs that had ash trays in the arm rests, a throw back to a time when people could smoke in public places. Then my shave commenced. The barber first wrapped a hot towel around my face. Next, the barber massaged in a lemon-based cream to clean out my pores.

After that, several more hot towels were applied. By then, I was feeling nice and relaxed, on the verge of falling asleep relaxed. The barber then massaged in some cocoa butter to soften my beard. Next, the barber brushed a warm lather into my beard that smelled like man and not like that crappy artificial goo you buy in a can. The barber then took a piece of razor sharp metal and scraped my beard off for the closest, best shave I’ve ever had. Allowing another man to hold a razor to your neck is a good way to remind yourself that you’re alive.

To finish it all off, I got another hot towel wrapped on my face along with a final face massage with a soothing vanishing cream. When I stepped out of the shop, I felt like a new man, ready to take on the world.

It’s a great activity to do with your father or son. Men need traditions that can help bond them together. Visiting the barbershop with your father or son is a great tradition to begin in your family. Many men have been going to the same barber all their life and have introduced their sons to the same chair and the same barber. What a great way to bond with the men in your life!

You’ll feel manlier. Every time I go to the barber shop I just feel manlier. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s the combination of the smell of hair tonics and the all-man atmosphere. But more so, it’s the awareness of the tradition of barbershops. Barbershops are places of continuity; they don’t change with the shifts in culture. The places and barbers look the same as they did when your dad got his hair cut. It’s a straightforward experience with none of the foofoo accouterments of the modern age. There are no waxings, facials, highlights, or appointments. Just great haircuts and great conversation.

When you walk out of the barber shop with a sharp haircut, you can’t help but feel a bit of manly swagger creep into your step. So next time you spot that familiar red and white striped pole, stop in. You’ll be glad you did.