#jeep trade in near me

[tapanjeep1]

Top 10 Reasons to Buy a Jeep from Your Local Dealer

Whether you’re looking for a rugged off-road vehicle or a comfortable daily driver, buying from your local Jeep dealer offers numerous benefits. Purchasing a vehicle from a dealership is not as overwhelming as it once was. These days, when you go through a showroom's front door, you'll be met by helpful, courteous employees who will go above and beyond to assist you in making your purchase decision.

Choosing where to buy is just as essential as choosing what to buy when it comes to buying a car. There are strong arguments for thinking about purchasing from your local dealer, even though big-box stores and internet automobile shopping have their advantages.

Reason to Buy A jeep from Your Local Dealer 

Choosing a local dealer means investing in a relationship that will benefit your community as well as yourself. It's more than simply buying a car. For instance, if you’re searching for a “Jeep dealer near me,” look no further because here’s why it’s the best way to start your journey:

 Test Drives at Your Convenience

It provides an opportunity to get behind the wheel and experience the vehicle firsthand, ensuring it meets your expectations and feels right for you. Being close to home means you can easily schedule and attend test drives. This ease of use enables you to carefully compare several models and come to a conclusion with confidence. It also implies that scheduling any necessary follow-up visits or inspections will be simpler.   

More buyer protection

Local dealerships frequently provide full maintenance agreements, strong warranties, and assurances of customer satisfaction that give customers peace of mind. Because they have a stake in upholding a good reputation in the neighbourhood, they are more likely to stand behind their cars and take care of any problems right away. 

You can be confident that your money is safe and that any issues you may have will be resolved effectively and professionally thanks to this increased level of protection.

Wide Range & more choice

Often a wide range of vehicles and more choices are available than you might expect. It's a one-stop-shop experience for buyers. Local dealers frequently have access to a diverse selection of makes and models, including the latest releases and certified pre-owned vehicles. They can source specific vehicles upon request, ensuring you find exactly what you're looking for. 

Certified Pre-Owned Vehicles

These vehicles undergo rigorous inspections and come with warranties. A number of benefits, including exchange policies, special financing rates, and roadside support, are frequently included with CPO vehicles. These vehicles are a great deal since they are less expensive than new models but have better warranties and dependability than regular used cars. This means you can save money and feel confident about your purchase.

Exclusive Local Deals and Promotions

One of the standout advantages of purchasing from a local dealer is access to exclusive deals and promotions that you won't find elsewhere. These exclusive deals not only lower the cost of buying locally, but also provide an extra layer of value that improves your whole ownership experience.

Greater knowledge and expertise 

Car dealerships often have sales personnel with years of experience and expertise. In general, they are delighted to address any technicalities, address any of your inquiries, and perhaps even offer useful recommendations for further possibilities to think about. Just like the expertise of Jeep dealers ensures you make an informed decision and choose the vehicle that best suits your requirements.

After-Sales Service and Support

Local dealers offer excellent after-sales service. You can rely on your dealer to give you the assistance you need to keep your car in good working order, whether it is for scheduled maintenance or unforeseen repairs. To assist you save money, they frequently provide loyalty programs and service promotions.

Building Long-Term Relationships

Purchasing a car is the beginning of a long-term relationship, not just a one-time transaction. Benefits from this association may include loyalty discounts, priority service, and a reliable counsellor for any future vehicle need.

Multiple Financing options

The dealer’s ability to locate car financing options that may be convenient for you is one of the biggest advantages of buying through a dealership. However, because of the inherent risk involved, most lenders are hesitant to offer financing for cars purchased through private sales where a car is purchased from an individual, but that’s not the case with car dealers.

Sell your old car too

Consider selling your old vehicle to your local dealer as well if you're thinking about purchasing a new one from them. Trade-in options that might simplify the entire procedure are frequently provided by nearby dealerships. When you trade in your old car, you can easily use the value against your new purchase, which could save you time and work in comparison to selling it on the open market.

Conclusion

Purchasing from a local Jeep dealer has many benefits, including after-sale support, convenient location, and individualized service. For an excellent shopping experience, think about visiting your local Jeep dealer the next time you're in the market for one. You'll not only leave with an amazing vehicle, but you'll also have a trustworthy partner for all your automotive needs.

[jeepindia]

ARAS kia madurai

We are official dealers of jeep in Madurai, customers can have a satisfying approach with us. We are offering test drives for meridian, compass and wrangler.

more details..,

Website link : https://araspvpvmotori.jeep-india.com/

Monday to Sunday — 09:30 AM — 07:00 PM

Address : 35/1, Samayanallur Road, Vilangudi, Madurai-625018

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/arasjeepmadurai

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aras.jeep.madurai/

Email id: salesmanager.mdu@arasgroup.org

Mobile no: 9585277888

[utsav-jeep-jodhpur]

Jeep Price Near Me

If you're in the market for a Jeep, look no further! At "Jeep Price Near Me," we bring you the best deals on a wide range of Jeep models, right in your neighborhood. Our mission is to make your dream of owning a Jeep a reality without breaking the bank. With a dedicated team of automotive experts, we ensure that you get the most competitive prices on both new and used Jeeps. Discover the thrill of off-road adventures, the comfort of versatile interiors, and the rugged charm that only a Jeep can offer. Find your perfect Jeep at "Jeep Price Near Me" and embark on unforgettable journeys today!

[tapanjeep]

Maximize Your Value: Jeep Trade-In Near Me

Why Trade-In Your Jeep?

Trading in your Jeep is a great way to maximize the value of your current vehicle while simplifying the process of purchasing a new one. Whether you're looking to upgrade to a newer model or need a vehicle that better suits your lifestyle, trading in offers several benefits:

Financial Benefits

Reduce Your New Car Price: The trade-in value of your Jeep can be applied towards the purchase of your new vehicle, reducing the overall cost.

Lower Monthly Payments: By lowering the principal amount you need to finance, your monthly payments can become more manageable.

Tax Savings: In many regions, you only pay sales tax on the difference between the trade-in value and the new car's price, which can lead to significant savings.

Convenience

Streamlined Process: Trading in your Jeep at the dealership simplifies the buying process by handling both the sale of your old vehicle and the purchase of the new one in one place.

Time-Saving: Avoid the hassle and time-consuming process of selling your vehicle privately. No need to advertise, meet potential buyers, or negotiate prices.

Professional Evaluation

Accurate Appraisal: Dealerships have experienced appraisers who can provide an accurate and fair market value for your Jeep based on its condition, mileage, and market demand.

Transparent Process: A professional appraisal ensures a transparent and trustworthy evaluation of your vehicle's worth.

How to Prepare Your Jeep for Trade-In

To get the best trade-in value for your Jeep, it's essential to prepare your vehicle adequately. Here are some tips:

Clean Your Vehicle

Exterior: Wash and wax the exterior to make your Jeep look its best.

Interior: Clean the interior thoroughly, including vacuuming the carpets, cleaning the upholstery, and wiping down all surfaces.

Address Minor Repairs

Fix Small Issues: Address minor issues such as replacing burnt-out bulbs, fixing small dents, and touching up scratches.

Maintenance: Ensure that all routine maintenance is up to date, such as oil changes, tire rotations, and brake checks.

Gather Documentation

Service Records: Having a complete service history can show that your Jeep has been well-maintained.

Ownership Documents: Ensure you have all necessary paperwork, including the title, registration, and any loan payoff information.

Tips to Maximize Your Trade-In Value

Here are additional tips to help you get the most value out of your trade-in:

Understand Your Vehicle’s Market Value

Before heading to the dealership, research your Jeep’s current market value. Online tools like Kelley Blue Book can provide an estimate based on your vehicle's make, model, year, mileage, and condition. Having this information helps you set realistic expectations and negotiate better.

Timing Matters

The timing of your trade-in can affect its value. Typically, trading in a vehicle at the end of the year or during promotional events can result in better deals, as dealerships are eager to meet sales targets.

Present Your Jeep in the Best Light

First impressions matter. When you take your Jeep to the dealership, make sure it looks well-cared for. A clean, shiny, and well-maintained vehicle can command a higher trade-in value.

Finding Jeep Trade-In Near Me

When looking to trade in your Jeep, finding a reputable and conveniently located dealership is crucial. Here are some benefits of visiting your local Jeep dealership:

Expert Appraisal

Local dealerships offer professional appraisals from experienced staff who can accurately assess your vehicle's value. This ensures you get a fair and competitive offer for your trade-in.

Seamless Process

A local dealership can handle the entire trade-in process, from appraisal to paperwork, making the experience hassle-free and efficient. This streamlined approach saves you time and effort.

Convenient Location

Choosing a local dealership means easy access for both dropping off your current Jeep and picking up your new one. It also allows for quick follow-ups if needed.

Financing Options

Local dealerships provide various financing options that incorporate your trade-in value, making it easier to purchase your next Jeep. They can help you explore loan terms, interest rates, and payment plans that suit your budget.

Community Engagement

Local dealerships often participate in community events and have a strong presence in the area. This connection can provide added confidence in their services and support.

Visit Your Local Jeep Dealership Today

To trade in your Jeep and explore new models, visit your nearest Jeep dealership. The staff will guide you through the trade-in process, provide a fair appraisal, and help you find the perfect new Jeep to meet your needs. Start maximizing your vehicle's value today by visiting the dealership.

What to Expect During the Trade-In Process

When you visit a dealership for a trade-in, here’s what you can typically expect:

Initial Assessment: The dealership staff will conduct an initial assessment of your Jeep, looking at its exterior and interior condition.

Detailed Inspection: An experienced appraiser will perform a detailed inspection, checking the engine, tires, brakes, and other vital components.

Market Research: The appraiser will research the current market value for your specific model and make, considering factors like demand and seasonality.

Offer Presentation: The dealership will present you with an offer based on the inspection and market research. This offer can be applied directly towards the purchase of a new vehicle.

Negotiation and Agreement: You can negotiate the offer if needed. Once you agree on the trade-in value, the dealership will handle the necessary paperwork.

For more information and to locate your nearest dealership, visit Tapan Industries' Jeep Trade-In Page. Discover why trading in your Jeep at a local dealership is a smart and convenient choice, and take the first step towards your new Jeep today.

[jeepindia12345]

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Chicken

John Egan X Farmer! Reader

Summary: When Meatball kills the farmer's chicken. Bucky flies to the rescue.

Warning: Animal death/ swearing/ mention of boobs/ use of Y/n/ mention of blood.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: I'm alive y'all! And my brain functioned again!

When John Egan came to Thorpe Abbotts, he was aware of the people that already lived there. He knew they were here, but he didn’t know them personally. When he saw her riding her horse, he knew he had to introduce himself. But he didn’t have the courage to go talk to her, she looked so intimidating, riding her horse and handling the goats.

Y/n lived on her family’s farm, but her family was away, they were in Austria, the farm was their summer house, but they wanted Y/n to keep it clean and work there. Usually, she would’ve been back in Austria, but with the war, it wasn’t safe to travel. Her chores were simple, making sure the goats didn’t run away, getting the eggs from the chicken coop and keeping the stables clean. It was easy, especially since she got her horse, Fred. He was a mustang, a beast that she had trouble training, but she kept persevering and was able to ride him. She was riding Fred everywhere; she loved her horse.

‘’Cleven! Good morning’’ she greeted the blonde. They quickly became friends when he came on the base, he went to introduce himself to the people living on the base, already saying he was sorry for the future disturbance that the soldiers were going to cause. When Gale saw Y/n, he thought she was amazing and they talked for hours, quickly becoming friends. They would trade stuff together, for example, if Y/n wanted a bottle of whiskey, she would give Gale a dozen eggs. ‘’Morning Y/n! How are you?’’ he asked. ‘’Good, just counting the chickens’’ she stopped when she heard a dog barking. ‘’Why do you have a dog here?’’ she asked, stepping in front of the chickens. ‘’Brady got him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near the coop’’ he reassured her. ‘’He better, because if he eats any of my chickens…’’ she threatened. Meatball came running towards Buck. ‘’He’s cute, but I meant what I said’’ she looked at the dog, smiling. ‘’I’ll make sure of it’’ he smiled.

John Egan heard a horse neigh; he knew that Y/n was close. And he was right, her (Y/h/c) hair were flying in the wind, she had a cowboy hat on her head. A white tank top that made her boobs look 5 times bigger and jeans that made her legs look amazing. She was beautiful. ‘’Y/n, what’s wrong?’’ Gale asked. She got down her horse, patting him before looking at the boys. ‘’I can’t come here and say hello?’’ she smiled as she looked at Bucky. ‘’Technically, you’re on a private property’’ Murph said. She scoffed. ‘’Technically, you guys invaded our property’’ she replied. ‘’Touché’’ Murph laughed. ‘’Nice ride’’ John Egan said, looking at the horse. ‘’Thanks, that’s Fred.’’ She replied. ‘’Um, do you guys have a minute to spare? We need help moving the hay’’ she asked. ‘’Sure, we can help’’ Bucky quickly replied.

‘’Be careful with that Jeep, don’t run over my animals’’ she smiled at Bucky, before she climbed up her horse. ‘’Wanna race?’’ Bucky proposed. She gave him a challenging smile, Fred was a fast horse, he was originally supposed to be a racehorse, but Y/n bought him at the town auction. ‘’Sure, but don’t cry if you lose’’ she smiled. When Fred started to run, Bucky knew he’d already lost, he didn’t want to go too fast, in case of a loose animal. She looked like a goddess, riding that horse. He thought about her riding him for a second, but his thoughts quickly faded when he heard Meatball bark, his mouth was all bloody and he had feathers on him.

‘’Calm down! It’s only 3 chickens!’’ Gale Cleven tried to calm her down, but she was ready to skin the dog alive, Bucky was holding her so she wouldn’t kill the dog. ‘’IT’S LESS EGGS! LET ME GO! I’m going to kill that dog’’ she tried to get away, but Bucky’s grip was too hard on her waist. Meatball didn’t have any regret; he was looking around like his life wasn’t on the line. John Brady, the owner, arrived at the scene in a Jeep, with Harry Crosby and Rosie Rosenthal. The 3 bodies were lying on the ground, headless. Y/n took deep breaths and calmed down a little. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Brady asked. ‘’You’re the owner?’’ she asked, angrily. Brady nodded. ‘’Your stupid dog ate 3 of my chickens!’’ she spat, showing the corpse with her hand. Brady swallowed a nervous laugh. ‘’I told you to watch him and I’m leaving the farm for an hour, I come back, and Dave, Danny and Darrel are dead!’’ she said, looking at her chickens. Bucky had to refrain a laugh at the names of the deceased animals. ‘’I’m sorry miss, I don’t know what else to say’’ Brady explained, scratching the back of his head. She took a deep breath, realizing how crazy she looked. She touched Bucky’s hand, to show him that he could let go. She replaced her hair as she sighed. ‘’I’m sorry, I kinda overreacted. You guys can go, I’ll, uh, clean up. Sorry for the disturbance.’’ She said, with an embarrassed tone.

He felt bad for her, sure it was only 3 chickens, but still. So, that night, he decided to find the courage and go talk to her for more than four words. He rode his Jeep to her house; he nervously taped the wheel with his thumb as he shut the engine down. Seeing lights outside, Y/n got out of the house, standing on her porch, seeing it was a soldier, she wiped her hands on her pants before going down the short stairs. ‘’Major Egan, to what do I owe this visit?’’ she asked, trying to hide her joy. She found him attractive, he was a gentleman during the day and a manwhore during the night, or at least that was his reputation. ‘’Hello, please call me Bucky, and I’m here to pay you back’’ he smiled. She tilted her head. ‘’Pay me back? You owe me money?’’ she questioned. He shook his head, chuckling. ‘’No, it’s for the deceased chickens’’ he explained.

Y/n fought the urge to smirk. ‘’You want to pay me for the chickens I lost?’’ she asked. ‘’Yeah, I mean you said it yourself, it’s less eggs’’ he blurted out. Now she couldn’t fight it anymore, a smile creeped on her face as she looked at the flustered Bucky. ‘’Come inside’’ she invited. He nodded as they waled inside the small home. The smell of burnt candle filling his nose as he looked around the kitchen. ‘’Does Brady know you’re doing this?’’ she asked as they sat in the kitchen. ‘’No, it’s my idea’’ he looked on the ground, not daring to look at her in the eyes. ‘’That’s very sweet, Bucky, but I can’t accept this, you must have family that this money belongs too, what about Mrs. Egan. It’s very thoughtful but keep it’’ she politely said. He started to laugh at the mention of a Mrs. Egan. ‘’There’s no Mrs. Egan, never set that part right, and my family doesn’t need the money. Please, Y/n, take it’’ this time, their eyes were locked into each other.

‘’You know, I didn’t think you would be the one offering me money. I thought Cleven would do it’’ she said, taking a sip of her homemade alcohol. It’s been an hour since Bucky came into her home they’ve been talking ever since. ‘’He felt bad, but he has to keep it for the phones, his girlfriend wants to hear from him twice a week’’ he chucked. She smiled as she looked at him. ‘’It’s getting late, I should get back to the base’’ he said as he looked at his watch. She got an idea. ‘’Are you free for dinner tomorrow?’’ she blurted out. He looked at her, smiling. ‘’Uh, yes, why?’’ he asked. ‘’Because I enjoy your company. And I have some extra money to buy good meat.’’ She smiled. ‘’Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’’ He leaned to kiss the top of her hand. ‘’Good night, Y/n’’ he said. ‘’Good night, Bucky, see you tomorrow’’

[satgurujeepindore]

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[etherealvoidechoes]

Old Friends. Bright Skies.

Had to satisfy this itch as the writing bug comes back. Some spoilers but not too much as this is a flashback for "Hollowed Defiance" and as usual I'll have to reedit it to fit in the future. Bradford centric.

Don't want to say who Bradford meets in the fic and will let y'all find out. :)

Warnings for language/cursing, some violence, blood, gore/body horror, and alien death mostly from a totally unnecessary surgery scene. As soon as you hit the first mention of anesthesia you're going to want to skip to "Back on track, they neared the meeting room." This probably spawned off of me writing the medical scene for my next chapter in the Borderlands fic.

Aprox. 9k

---------

Another day, another hidden market for Bradford and crew to peruse. It was a little different this time, being located in the remains of the semi-glassed city of Cape Town and the fact there was a hidden and thriving community living there. Seemed like this one avoided the major problem that plague abounded cities — The Lost and Chryssalids. Actually, Chryssalids became a main food export for the locals. Seemed like those bugs sprung forth from the sea on occasion and made some nests in the more uninhabitable portions of the city, but the locals had a system of keeping them in check before they caused problems. 

 For the Lost “problem”, perhaps that hellfire plasma that rained down long ago burned up most of the corpses and whatever gasses emitted from the pods contained, besides wrecking a portion of the latter. And any pods that remained were skeletal remnants, torn down to their metal frames with few pieces remaining. 

Bradford and his small crew — approximately 35 people — were just passing through the area as their little humvee and jeep convoy were traveling back to East Africa to meet back up with the Avenger. They had recently finished up with the usual investigating leads on the location of the Commander(turning up cold as usual) and getting several Resistance Cells set up in this part of the country. And in turn, they got a few that wanted to join them and they rarely refused. Every little bit helped.

Bradford was currently chatting with an arms dealer that had a suspiciously extensive selection of old Earth weapons and some ADVENT magnetic weapons. Though his suspicions were quickly answered when two “middlemen” poked their noses into his business. He was all too familiar with one of them. Void Walkers. They had nose into just about every facet of trade and if there were on good terms with this dealer.

“So what brings you down south, my cynical friend?” Always a peep in their step, Nithrall greeted him with open arms and a glitched giggled laugh. Of course, Bradford stuck his hand out, if not directly shoving it towards their mask to keep them beyond arm’s length.

“Nithrall…” Bradford did his best to stifle a growl. But his right brow twitched away. “Pleasure to see you again… and so soon.” Sarcasm dripped like thick honey from his lips. It was far too soon for his liking with their mannerisms, but usually, when they were around he got something good. He glanced at their companion, wearing a similar mask to Nithrall’s but with red lenses, who looked rather indifferent to their companion’s actions. “Hi.”

“Greetings.” They nodded back. “Nithrall, let’s not stifle business for too long. We have places to be.”

A gruff sigh came from Nithrall as they stepped back. “The both of you are no fun. Especially you,” they jabbed a finger as their companion, “Red.”

“Something… something tells me you were expecting us?” Bradford just felt like there was too much of a coincidence with them, especially her, being there.

Nithrall’s digital visor lit up with fireworks and a ‘what do you think?’ flashed a few times. “You know how us Void Walkers work!”

Raising both hands to his face, Bradford just buried it in his palms and let out several curses. “For the love of…” Bradford felt like his brow would be stuck twitching for hours. 

The arms dealer just laughed at such an odd working relationship they had before gesturing for them to come to the back for more privacy. 

Turned out the dealer was hiding more special goods — more old Earth weapons and ammo in much better condition, more ADVENT weapons, armor, and some alien tech — just for XCOM, but was waiting on the Void Walkers to step in to ID that Bradford was the one they would be given to. Of course, with payment.

“This is all yours just for the remaining price of some medical supplies, maybe three of those generators on one of those trucks, and refined metals.” The dealer smiled. “I am willing to trade in some of it for some hard labor. There are some… caches … I want searched in the city. There are some Chryssalids and other feral alien animals that have chased my workers and me out. You guys do that and you can take some of the supplies there and everything is paid for.” They smiled.

“Hm.” Bradford raised a brow. He looked at everything; it was a great selection of gear that could do them some good. But… “I didn’t ask for any of this.” He turned to look at the Void Walkers. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch! No catch!” Nithrall waved their hands. “Well, maybe… ish?” They glanced at Red, shrugging their shoulders.

“Maybe?” Sounded like a catch.

Red shook their head. “What Nithrall means it’s a gift from us and a contact.” Walking over to the dealer, with a distinctive psionic ping, a canister appeared in Red’s hands that they handed off to the dealer. “That’s the other portion of our part and another portion was paid by a mutual contact.”

Bradford watched the exchange before his eyes shifted about, bitting his inner lip, as his mind cycled back to what the dealer said. Remaining price of… huh. “Okay…” Everything was nudging him to accept everything with some negotiations. “And who exactly is this ‘mutual’ contact that’s this generous?”

“Recoil Raidā.”

“Them?” He was genuinely surprised to hear that name. “It’s been a while since we spoke last… but this is much.” Even Volk wasn’t this generous.

“Well,” Nithrall shuffled closer to him, body bristling with excitement, only for a hand to the face followed by a solid shove back, “heeee wants to meet up!”

There was the catch he had been waiting for. “He wants to meet up?” He soon grumbled under his breath. “Hm, know that fact now.”

“A thank you for all the collaborations. And a peace offering as he has some Hybrid and alien companions.” Red explained.

“Ah, great. Ex-ADVENT with a lot of blood on their hands, I bet.” 

“Him? No. The companions? Possibly.”

“Hm.” That just made Bradford more suspicious and curious. 

He looked back at all the supplies laid out. A lot of good it would do XCOM but it was coming with a catch. This years long contact wanted to meet up. Finally. But could it have been an elaborate setup of trap? False pretense to solidify that trust only to shatter it with an ambush? No. The Void Walkers were meticulous in setting up contacts and weeding out any ADVENT moles. This had to be genuine.

He shook his head. Looked like their arrival back to the Avenger would be delayed by a few days.

“Okay then. You two can set the meet up.” He looked at Nithrall, eyes narrowed. “No funny business.”

“You can count on us.” ‘Happy eyes’ appeared on that visor as they gave a thumbs up. That just made him grumble.

He then looked at the dealer. “What was that about clearing out some caches?”

—————————

After a few grueling days of clearing out the caches and their alien occupants, XCOM had some more gear and supplies to take back home, with some being quick to claim their weapons of choice.  They scored additional supplies by bringing back the least managed alien corpses which local butchers were all too happy to make use off. 

As they were getting themselves packed up, the Void Walkers returned with some news. Looked like they wouldn’t have to make any detours to meet up with Recoil Raidā. The chosen safe location was about 3/4ths of the way back to the Avenger. It was an abandoned ADVENT outpost. They did a mixture of their work in the surrounding area and then a partial quarantine from some outbreak.

“What the hell do you mean this in a quarantined area!?”

Everyone thought Bradford was going to blood a few blood vessels once his mind caught that detail. But the Void Walkers were able to placate him saying that the area, in particular, was clear from the previous outbreak and was ADVENT wanting to keep locals and migrants from crossing through the area. The answer didn’t exactly please Bradford, but they offered some high-quality gas masks and filters, which changed his angry tune into a slightly annoyed one. 

“So what should we, I, be expecting? Have you told him of my identity? What I look like?” Bradford asked.

“Please, please.” Nithrall gestured for him to ‘chill out’. “You know we know discretion.” They snickered. “All identities have been hidden per how contracts go. Contact frequencies and code words will be how you will identify each other… and…”

“And?”

“Told him the cynical one is their leader, that needs some sleep and booze. Also has a slight gnarly facial scar. And info for you! Look for the chatty, excitable one with the green-lensed goggles and a red beanie. And ‘shrap’ pocked face.”

“Of course you would say that.” He wasn’t too happy they mentioned his facial scar, but there were others in the group that had scars worse than his. 

With that, the Void Walkers handed off the coordinates, code words, and contact frequencies to Bradford before heading off to do more business. Though Nithrall added they could pop up again for the meeting. Possibly pop up. Bradford hoped not. 

Bradford went over the more private information with the most senior members that day and as they traveled. They figured out what to share with the others and Bradford stressed whoever would be going to the meet would have to be on their best behavior. No intolerance to the Hybrids and aliens. 

“What the hell kind of phrases are these?” Takamura voiced his confusion as he read through the information. “This one looks to be lyrics from a song…” Eyes scrutinized the verses several times. “They say ‘Heavy is the head”, and our response ”that wears the crown.’”

“Hope they don’t expect Brady to be a singer.” Trish playfully nudged Bradford, who only rolled his eyes.

“It’s got some meaning behind it. Being the leader behind the resistance would be a heavy burden.” Laney said, nodding to herself.

“Hmm… clever. I remember some days Commander Reeves seemed to be at her limit. Especially towards the end…” Takamura had to admit that. 

“Don’t remind me.” Bradford shook his head. “There was a lot behind-the-scenes none of you saw. Some of the Council started to ramp up their demands to impossible levels.” He did and didn’t miss them. “Still can’t believe how the Council was turning against us one by one, weeks before the base attack and we were making serious progress.”

“Remember, brainwashing. Found info to confirm that.” Laney said.

“Right. Right.” That was an answer to more than half of it.

“Now, this other phrase is… interesting.” Takamura redirected the conversation. His brows just seemed to be permanently arched in disbelief. “ ’To confirm identities between leaders, he will say: Jets, jousting against sleek, stinging darks, through blackened skies and clenched teeth — and you will say: are living on burning fuel, prayers,  and… solo wings?’ What?”

“Sounds like someone is trying to be a poet.” Trish snickered, more or so at Takamura’s reaction.

“Makes me think of how those UFOs tore up our jets for the longest. Hell, the world’s fighter pilots had it rough.” Laney shook her head. “Lots of times our flyers came home on a wing and a prayer.” 

“Hm…” Takamura raised a hand to his chin. “Wing and a prayer. Perhaps they are a soldier from during the Old War with these choice of words?”

“Could be.” Laney shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter how dumb it may sound, just get it all memorized.” Bradford really couldn’t care less. He had heard and said dumber code phrases. 

They continued to go over the information for the next few days as they closed in on the location. They decided more than half of the caravan would split, taking all the important gear they’re procured, and continued their journey to the Avenger. As they were doing that, they also made contingency plans just in case it was a trap or the meeting went south.

As they neared, they sent a message to the Avenger to let them know what was going on and to make preparations for the Skyranger to pick them up if things went south.

—————————

Travel was uneventful. No bandits, and thankfully, no ADVENT. Seemed like their activity was on the lighter side in this region, but they knew they could never let their guard down. 

The convoy stopped the night just along the border of Chad and Sudan. Some time to get some rest, chart ADVENT movements, and split the convoy up. About 3/4ths of it would continue their way to the Avenger, crossing over into Sudan, and the remaining fourth would make their way to the meeting point.

The night went well. Just before dawn, they all rose, and the group went separate ways.

—————

The hours slipped by as Bradford’s group closed in on the location.

Bradford himself was sitting in the back of a jeep, hands resting tight on his rifle that rested over his knees, eyes closed, head hung back and firmly pressing against the taut patched-together mylar canvas covering a hole where the window should have been. He was sleeping… Or at least attempting to sleep. 

Twisted lips, a snort, and a grunt would slip out every other bump in the road or so.

He was used to the rough bumps, noise, and discomfort of the repaired yet shoddy ride; it was just his brain didn’t want to turn off. Anticipation was killing him.

Another hard bump, more like a jump, rocked him awake, nearly throwing him out of his seat. A curse slipped from his lips.

Rolling his neck a few times, he sat up straight and cursed some more. He rubbed his eyes and continued his cursing into grumbling. 

“Nomitai?” Takamura asked. His words were followed by a faint sloshing.

He looked up, peeking through his fingers, and saw an all too familiar sight. A silver flask. His throat trembled. “Taka… You know the last thing I need right now is a drink.” And it was tempting.

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s why it’s coffee. Since when do I offer my cooking alcohol to others?” He shook the flask again. “It’s a smooth brew blend. A bit concentrated but no bitterness.” 

Bradford thought for a moment. Takamura was stingy when it came to alcohol, which he often relegated all of it to cooking. A snort slipped out. He took the flask. “Maybe a sip.” One sip became half the flask.

“How do you think this meeting will go?” Takamura asked, peeking through the window. The parched landscape was slowly giving way to lush greenery. A refreshing sight once more, especially the trees.

“Hm… quarantine.” A mutter left his lips. Barely noticing Patch, their frequencies specialist, going over the comms giving an all clear to keep moving through and no stopping — air quality was fine, no anomalies.

Massive red, white, and yellow signs, some with flashing words, warned all entering this was a restricted area, and that there was a plague loose. ADVENT will not assist anyone who enters nor rescue them.

“How kind of them to put in both ADVENT a few of the local languages.” Takamura noted a few more signs they passed by before they all disappeared. “Looks like there are no sensors if we’re still moving. Or Patch and co are jamming them.“

“Sounds like we’re finally in the area.” Bradford noted. He took one last gulp before capping off the flask and handing it back to him. “With how Recoil Raidā has been reliable over the years, I feel like it should go well.” 

“But.”

“But what?”

“As you sometimes say,” he raised his hands and soon made air quotes,”’your brain has been over active’.”

Bradford rolled his eyes. “Yes, I have my suspicions. Especially with that large gift.” 

“An interesting way of securing a meeting with short notice.”

Bradford nodded. “Just hope that bitter, cynical part of me isn’t right that this is some sort of setup.”

“Hopefully, it is not.” He related back in his seat. “If it is, we have made plans.”

“Just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“ETA: 10 minutes to our location.” Somewhat static chatter was announced across their secured frequency. 

“Affirmative, Gargoyle. Continue to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

“Roger that.” 

“Everyone, from here on out we use our callsigns.”

They all agreed to that.

“And Ricco, send over the encrypted message so they’ll be expecting us.”

“Done and done, boss.”

—————

Ten minutes slipped by. An overgrown ADVENT outpost greeted their eyes. How quickly nature could take over eyesore those buildings as soon as the nuisances were gone.

As they entered the area, passing through the security gates. There were more signs, toppled over and overgrown, warning of the plague and quarantine. Additionally, there was yellow caution tape strung about; most slack and cut apart. 

XCOM slowed their speed as they pulled into the center of the interconnected outpost. Parked under some trees and covered with many tarps were off-roading vehicles from what they could glimpse. 

Emerging from the central building with quick haste four armed people: one female human, two Hybrids with partial Skirmisher gear — one pale almost white-skinned and the other was a deep rust brown —, and a brown to red scaled Viper with more convention ‘human’ armor in place of the alien kind. All had gas masks hanging loosely from their necks.

Bradford narrowed his eyes as soon as he saw the snake.

“Of course.” He grumbled. He glanced out the windows and noticed a few areas that could be sniper nests across the outpost. Which was quickly confirmed by some quick, quiet chatter from the other crew.

He raised his radio to his face. “Best behavior. EVERYONE.”

The female human told them to halt, and Bradford told his people to listen. Their turf, their rules… for now. 

As their convoy rolled to a stop, Bradford was the first to step, rifle in hand, but relaxed. One hand went up to the mask hanging from his neck and adjusted it. Eyes made contact with each person, lingering a bit too long on the Viper(and finger inching towards that trigger), before looking back at the human. He even rolled his right shoulder forward, showing the XCOM insignia, but like they could matter much. There were always imposters out there, and ADVENT was the source of some of them. False flags.

The human nodded to him.

“Let’s get this over with. If you are who you’re supposed to be.” She ran her fingers through her frizzy hair. Head shuttering, she cleared her throat. “Crying out…” She said. 

“Ooh, go and wake the king.” He replied.

“Call to arms…”

“For those who kiss the ring.”

“Stand your ground…” 

“The walls are comin' down.”

“It's do or die…”

“Do or die.”

“Heavy is the head…”

“That wears the crown.”

“Well…” Eyebrows raised, and eyes genuinely pleased, the human looked at her companions and gave an approving nod

“Step one, completed.” The pale-skinned Hybrid hummed with a smile, a voice higher pitched than most Hybrids. “Follow, follow.” Turning back to the main building, she gestured for them to follow. 

“Skipping a step or two, Hess.” The other Hybrid shook his head.

“We,” the human gestured to herself and the Viper, “will handle it, Vox.” She then looked at Bradford. “We’ll direct where your drivers should park your vehicles. Follow Hess and Vox inside.”

Bradford nodded. Shifting a hand over to his radio, he raised it to his face. “Follow their orders to a ’t’ on where to park and no funny business.”

“Roger.” They all responded.

With that done, he gestured for the others to follow the Hybrids into the building.

“Weapons are allowed, but fingers off triggers or we confiscate the weapons.” Vox warned.

“Noted.” Bradford nodded. Though spotting a few more Vipers as they moved from room to room almost made him break that rule. But he soon noticed how few of the Vipers were the military kind. Most seemed to be “civilian” types to help ease humanity into trusting their alien overlords. A few seemed to be nurses, seeing how they were expertly attending to the wounded. 

“Hm.” He was still going to be weary towards them.

He glanced back at Laney before speaking in a whisper. “Put in a message to the Avenger. If everything goes well here, we need some of our medical staff here. Get these people patched up.”

“Got it.” She nodded.

Though rundown, it looks like Recoil Raidā’s group had fixed up the place. Lights flickered here and there, missing floor panels, and haphazard coverings over the windows. It was rough, but the place looked to be livable. 

“Wonder how long they’ve been here?” Bradford mumbled to himself. 

As they walked, a sight made him, and a few of his people, stop. Or perhaps it was the sounds and a person talking? A rather breathy and muffled voice.

“Hmm. Seems the anesthesia is wearing off sooner than it should. Perhaps this disease afflicting you is the cause? Or is it your biology with the constant tweaking your cruel Masters perform? This changes my plans…”

Either way, glimmering sheer curtains caked with that familiar orange blood had been hastily tapped to the outside frame of a door; here and there, a few pieces of that silver tape were rolling back. 

Inside, though obscured, the sight wasn’t pretty. Chattering and hissing was one of those evolved Sectoids, but it looked wrong. Skin splotchy and beyond pale, limbs misshapen if not bloated, and body riddled with oozing black and white pustules. One hand tugged at the psi-dampening collar on its neck and it feebly pushed away with the other at the person in a hazmat suit. A rather tactical if not armored and rugged hazmat suit. He’d never seen such equipment, even from ADVENT…. for now. This had to be a new outfit as they looked out of place with everyone here.

“Please do your best to stop fighting. I don’t want to slip and make this worse for you.” There was a coldness to their voice, but somehow they sounded sincere. “I would give you more medicine if I had any left. Tch. Operations, careless scouting.” A grumble slipped out. “I’ll try to make this quick. You’ve suffered enough. Poor thing.”

The surgeon, if they could be called that, seemed rather unbothered as they worked delicately with the scalpel to carve open the Sectoid’s chest. Satisfied with the cut, they switched over to a retractor to open the incision further, not before taking a movement to remove the hand partially obscuring their helmet and shoving it back down to the table.

“Fascinating. Every time I think I’ve understood your kinds anatomy, the Elders go about tweaking you again.” The surgeon spoke their mind freely. “What generation are you? Or should I say version? Just another prototype continually being tweaked to reach ‘perfection’.” A scoff left their lips. “Perfection wouldn’t suffer from a plague and genetic degradation so easily, now would it? Note to self: Go through all my notes regarding the plagues. Need to cross-reference details. Gresslar loves detailed notes.”

“Time for the saw.”

A hand went to the tray again for another tool, aimlessly searching around.

“Saw…. Saaaaaw… Hm?” They glanced over their shoulder. An annoyed sigh almost hissed, came out. “Really? They them that again. And the bone cutters… Malakas… Recoil is paying extra for that.” 

“Guess I’ll use my hands. Bone structure is still rather fragile with the right force applied.” They looked back at the Sectoid eyes meeting those pained black orbs. They placed a hand on their head; the creature was shaking like a leaf. “This will be quite unpleasant for you. I apologize. I take no joy in your suffering.”

A few knicks here and there in just the right spots on the ribs with a scalpel took off some bone. Then, one by one, the surgeon snapped rib-bone after rib-bone around the sternum with their fingers until it was free. Again, the Sectoid let out a high-pitched chatter of pain as it weakly fought back. The surgeon was still unbothered by the attempts to stop them. Once that bone plate fell, they plucked it out and placed it on a nearby tray.

“And to end it all.”

A moment later, they grabbed a large syringe with a long clear hose that coiled on the floor, leading to a small machine next to their legs. Double-checking the thick needle for a moment, they soon plunged it directly into the Sectoid’s beating heart. Its chittering wails were quickly drowned out as the surgeon turned on the machine. Whirring to life. It hissed before going to work; orange blood, specked with black particles, traveled down that once clear hose.

The Sectoid continued to kick and scream. Movements slowly growing more sluggish as the seconds passed.

 “Stop fightn’.” The coldness in their voice barely changed. Yet, a blood-caked hand went to the Sectoid’s head and stroked it. “You know your fate. You were abandoned. They care not for you. The Elders have never cared.” They shook their head. “Stop fightn’, it’ll go faster. Ease your breathn’. Then you can sleep and join the others. Your blood will be memories fightn’ for our cause. You will not be forgotten.”

The Sectoid hissed and chittered for a little while longer until those flailing arms just dropped; one slipped down to the surgeon’s stroking hand. With each slow breath, the glow in its chest began to fade. Eyes narrowing, it weakly pressed its head against the surgeon’s hand. 

“Shh. It’ll be all over soon. Ease your breathn’.”

Several breaths later, the light in its chest finally died. It grew still.

“Subject expired. Why? Merciful option. Anesthesia supplies low. Time of expiration… 12:42. Beginning autopsy and gathering samples for isolation.”

It was all just strangely mesmerizing to watch.

Feeling a firm hand on his shoulder pull him forward nearly made Bradford flip out of pure instinct until he heard the voice.

“Come.” It was Vox. He had a weary, if not sad, look on his face as he glanced at the surgeon’s messy work. “We have a meeting and… you do not want to see their work. Strange one they are…”

Bradford looked back at that room and then at the Hybrid. That look in their eyes was a deeply pained one. Did it know that Sectoid?

“Right. Meeting. Lead on.” He nodded, then gestured for his people to follow.

Back on track, they neared the meeting room. Bradford pondered for a moment, wondering if this was a repurposed communications room as his mind went through several outpost layouts he was familiar with. 

As they neared, he heard chattering, but one voice stood out. It sounded male, human, and they were speaking in a foreign language that sounded somewhat familiar to him.

Ears twitching, his eyes narrowed. “Is that… is that Japanese I hear?” Leaning as inconspicuously as he could, he whispered to Takamura.

The man took a moment to focus his hearing. Eyes looked up and shifted about, listening to his mother tongue he rarely got to hear most months. It was refreshing. “I believe so.” He whispered back, pausing to listen some more. “Sounds like they are discussing ADVENT supply lines and moving refugees around.”

“Hm.” Sounded like they liked to stay busy. But there was something about that voice that almost sounded familiar to him. He shook his head. It was probably nothing.

As they reached the room, there was a man pointing at maps strewn across a long table; he was wearing a red beanie with curling brown hair peaking out here and there. Besides the cap, he was wearing a modular tactical vest with a sleeveless turquoise jacket underneath, woodland-print camouflage cargo pants, combat boots, and more tactical equipment.

“Hm.” Bradford raised a brow. His mind went back to the way Nithrall described the leader. “Think that may be Recoil Raidā.”

“Boss!” Hess racked the metal grating on the walls with her gauntlets a few times, claws scratching the metal, creating an ear-grating sound.

Just about everyone in the room cringed.

Recoil’s fingers dug into the table, shoulders tensed before relaxing, but those fingers didn’t. “Hess.” He hissed her voice. Slowly, he turned to look at her. “Yamete kudasai…”

She only grinned in response.

Vox sighed, hands twitching, ready to smack his own face. “Here is XCOM, boss. They passed the first phrase.”

“Oh?” His eyes lit up, finally noticing people accompanying the Hybrids. Definitely people he had never seen before. He looked them up and down several times, especially the rather gruff looking one with the facial scar on his right cheek. He grinned, voice easily slipping from a Japanese accent to a more American one. “Now, will they pass the second?” He chuckled to himself. 

Clapping his hands together a few times, he turned to face them and went over. 

He stood in front of Bradford and studied him a bit more. His grin grew more when the man raised a brow.

“I take you are the leader?” He cocked his head to the side. “Cynical leader in need of some sleep and a strong drink?”

Several tried to stifle a laugh.

Bradford snorted and nearly elbowed Takamura. Letting his rifle fall to his side, he crossed his arms. “Depends. Chatty.”

Recoil grinned more.

“Let’s see if those Void Walkers did their job.” He said before clearing his throat. He put his hands behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Jets, jousting against sleek, stinging darks, through blackened skies and clenched teeth.”

“Are living on burning fuel, prayers, and solo wings.” Bradford answered.

“Ah!” A light laugh slipped out. “Void Walkers kept their promise.”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m the Recoil Raidā.” He extended his hand. “And you are… Central? Or Dimitri? Or Decker?”

He nodded. “Central.” Unfolding his arms, Bradford shook his hand with a firm grip. “Glad to finally meet you face to face. And thanks for the surprise gift.” 

Now having a better look at his face, Recoil looked to be in his mid-forties to early fifties. Light black and gray stubble lined his chin and upper lip. Bradford noticed running up the left side of his neck and partially to his face were scattered, dark scars varying from small pricks to twisted lines. They almost blended in with his freckled face, but a few glinted silver. Shrapnel pocked face like Nitrhall had described. He wondered how far it went. How did he get it? During the Old War? Questions for another time and if they became friends. 

“I can say likewise. And you’re welcome. Felt like making something special for the occasion.” He smiled. “It’s always nice to finally put a face to the name. Dead drops and text communications can be so… distant.” He rolled his eyes. “Sorry about the no radio communication for the longest. Took a while to get some vocal scramblers.” 

“Agreed.” Bradford nodded. “No need to apologize, had to keep your identities hidden these days. So what is it you want to chat about?”

“Now, let’s continue introductions as I see you’ve brought along a motley crew.” Leaning ever so slightly over, he noticed some more of his people were guiding Bradford’s people to the room. “Then trade some information, possibly some gear, and properly solidify this alliance.”

Bradford nodded along as he rubbed his chin. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Good. Now come in! Come in!” He ushered for all to enter the room.

Bradford was already introducing his people before everyone was in the room — mainly sticking to callsigns unless the person interrupted him. Recoil did the same with his own crew, though went into greater detail about little quirks everyone had which got a few of them to tell him to shut up or they threw a bottle at him. One Viper even threatened to crush him if he continued to mention her shedding problem. It all got a few snorts out of Bradford. Raider was indeed an excitable person, as described. Seemed like his group was one big dysfunctional family. Like XCOM.

With introductions over, things switched over to more resistance and tactical talk. Recoil filled them in on what they were talking about before their arrival — moving refugees to some hidden havens across the country and sabotaging some ADVENT security checkpoints as they ran along the routes they were looking at.

“Think we can cut out most of the travel if we get every to out ship. Fly over all the trouble and would take hours compared to days to hit all the locations.” Bradford offered a solution. “Thought we could still do some sabotaging. Would help the locals move more freely for some time.”

“Ship? Wait… y’all actually have a ship?” Recoil asked, voice slowly slipping into a southern accent. His brows shot up. There was a curious twinkle in his eyes. “Alien ship? Like them rumors from some them trading spots say ‘XCOM repurposed alien cargo ship’?”

Bradford chuckled and nodded. “That’s us.” 

“Gosh darn… I have to see it.”

“Recoil, focus.” Vox shook his head.

But the talk quickly went off track as Recoil spewed out a bunch of questions concerning the Avenger. What type of cargo ship was it? Food? Materials? Alien soldiers? Human test subjects still alive or liquified? Size? Shape? Flight controls? Flight speed? Power source? Multi-brained alien AI that has to be nullified or gutted or else it will fry all intruders at a drop of a hat?

Bradford somewhat answered some and ignored others as he tried not to be overwhelmed by the sudden verbal onslaught. But there was a curious suspicion growing in with how detailed some of the questions were getting with each passing second. A regular citizen wouldn’t even know to ask those questions. He had to be a veteran of the Old War. The question was it the regular government forces or XCOM?

Bradford made some sly hand signals to Laney. 

‘Old war military vibes?’

‘Old war military vibes.’ She responded with like gestures and a nod.

He wondered how he would broach that subject without picking at old wounds.

It took Vox and the others to get him to calm down and go back to more important matters, but Recoil really wanted to see the ship.

Discussions continued, and they hashed plans out. Recoil allowed them to use the room to get in contact with the Avenger to confirm everything went well and to let them know where to send the Skyranger and to prepare for some temporary guests.

Eventually, they broke off into their own groups. Bradford made a little huddle corner with his crew and began to discuss who Recoil could possibly be.

“With all those questions? I’m leaning more towards XCOM.” Trish said.

“But you would think he would confirm if he was one, no?” Takamura wasn’t so sure.

“Could be withholding to just make sure we’re not ‘fakes’.” Trish tutted.

“Right, right.” He nodded.

“You sure you don’t recognize him, Bradford?” Laney asked. “You memorized a lot of faces and callsigns back in the day.”

“Really?” Bradford just gave her an ‘annoyed’ look. “The main HQ roster was so damn large, and I had an entire communication team to keep up with everything.” He shook his head. “And then could have been from any branch and those were just as large.”

“Yeesh!” She raised her hands and backed up. “Was just asking.”

“Mhm.” Bradford shook his head and soon grumbled.

He glanced back at Recoil and studied his features some more. Nothing rang a bell, but there was something about them that seemed eerily familiar.

“There’s something about him… that seems familiar to me.”

“How so?” The others asked.

“I don’t know… mannerisms? Accent? Well, accents.” He took noticed the shifts from American to Japanese to a more southern American when he got too excited. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on.”

“Ask a few questions? Laney suggested, nudging his arm a few times.

“Don’t want to knock a hornet’s nest… yet.”

Receiving a response from the Avenger that Firebrand was on her way and the Skyranger was stocked with medical supplies and a few doctors got everyone into gear. Bradford ordered his people to get a landing zone designated and work with Recoil’s people to move the most wounded first. Recoil just told his people to assist and get everyone organized to move soon.

The room quieted down as it was slowly emptied. Just chatter from those in the halls and other rooms.

Bradford took a moment to double-check his gear. Straps all locked and tight. Additional magazines all in place. That overly customized rifle he held near and dear to his heart was still good and had its safety only. All good.

He barely noticed someone creeping up behind him.

“So about that ship and XCOM.” Recoil said. Just a little too close.

Bradford’s brow twitched as he tensed. Slowly, his head turned to look at him. A quizzical brow was greeted by an excited grin. “You sure like asking a lot of questions.”

“Yes.” He nodded twice. “How else am I supposed ta gather info?”

Bradford shook his head. 

He had a feeling if he wanted to leave, the man would follow and still pester him about the damn Avenger. But maybe he could use that to his advantage?

“I’ll answer some of your questions.” Bradford said.

“Sweet, so—“ A raised finger quickly hushed Recoil.

“Only if you answer some of mine.” He explained. “Think of it as quid pro quo.”

Recoil let out a few chortled snorts. “So a tit for tat? I can roll with that.” Seemed fair. “So again, as I can tell yew were being rather cagey on that ship type, what was it?” He asked that question again. “And whatcha wanna know?”

A little information exchange began following the agreement. Bradford still stayed purposefully vague on details about the Avenger, but gave just enough to satisfy Recoil’s curiosity. He also answered some questions about XCOM. They were the ones that fell towards the end of the War, scattered to the winds, but reunited once more. He also truthfully told he was one of the original staff back in the day, but withheld his position.

In turn, Recoil answered his questions. 

Yes, he fought in the Old War. He fought as a pilot and shot down several alien ships during the war. Survived many dogfights by the skin of his teeth, but towards the end of the war, they finally shot him down. Still questioned how he survived the crash. Like Bradford, he avoided disclosing his country of origin he was, but with his strong American accent and an even stronger southern accent that would peak through, Bradford had a strong feeling he was once been a part of the U.S. Air Force. And then how he danced around any encounters with XCOM had Bradford strongly believing he may be one of their own or had jointly worked during some operation.

Recoil continued to answer some questions, such as he had been traveling the world, mostly with the assistance of the Void Walkers, to help out various cells and was looking for his sister. 

As he continued to blabber on about some innocuous details, Bradford kept picking up various ticks and mannerisms that seemed very familiar to him.

Why? He could wrap his mind around it. Why did this man seem so familiar to him? His eyes scrutinized that face once again. Nothing about the scars rang a bell, but something was coalescing in his mind regarding his facial shape. And those freckles. They reminded him of somebody.

Then it clicked. His eyes lit up.

Suddenly, he blurted out. “Oh God!” 

Recoil paused mid-rant and looked at him. “What? Said too much.”

“What? No. Give me a second.” He shook his head, turning to the side as he pinched his chin and grumbled.

A few minutes passed, and he was still grumbling. A few ‘can he be” and “is it possible” slipped out.

“Uh, Central?” Recoil moved closer. “Something I said?”

“No!” He raised a hand to stop him. “No. No. No.” Again he shook his head before looking at him; eyes studied those features again. “It’s just.” He bit his tongue as he mulled over what he was about to say. “Take off your hat.”

“Take off my hat?” Recoil raised a brow. “Why?”

“I can’t explain! Just take off your hat!”

“Geez, calm down… Ataoka…” He backed away, gesturing for him to chill out. “Atama ga okashii…” He grumbled under his breath. “Wonder how the heck this even matters.”

Taking off his hat, revealed curly dark brown locks with some grays here and there that went past his ears. Recoil ran his fingers through his hair a few times before giving his head a good shake. The locks bounced around before settling down.

“Hat off. M’k?” Stretching his arms, he gestured his hands outwards. “Better, nau?”

Everything just fell into place.

“Charles?” Bradford asked, voice nearly a whisper. “Charles Reeves?”

Recoil’s nose scrunched up as he jerked his head back. Eyes quickly narrowed. “How the hell —“ He paused, biting his tongue. Too late. Gave himself away. His composure was gone. Through gritted teeth, he did his best to keep his voice low. “How the hell do you know that!?”

“John.” He took a step towards him. “I’m John Bradford.”

He only got a puzzled look in response.

“Come on, Kansas high school. We met and became good friends. You introduced me to your sister, Jynn, and the three of us hung out frequently.”

“John?” He questioned, studying the man’s features some more. Nothing looked familiar to him. He looked nothing like the John he knew, but the last time he saw him was over 10 years ago. “No… yabai…” The puzzle looks continued, along with some head shakes. Impossible.

“Come on,” dismay crept into Bradford’s voice, “Grand Canyon trip… when was it… when was it?” He snapped his fingers a few times. “Gah, I think the 90s, but more importantly, you somehow dyed Jynn’s hair pink when she was sleeping. She chased you around after discovering the horrible joke, tackled you, and broke your collarbone.” He rattled out the details he could recall from that fond memory and continued to add on various escapes Charles got up to and many involved annoying his sister.

Recoil’s eyes widened with each tale. This man somehow knew his past and his family, but he just couldn’t recognize him.

“Heh, and you had some catchphrase you’d throw at me after I had a rough day with wrestling.” Bradford shook his head as he smiled, fondly remembering things from times long gone. “How did it go again? Think like this: Yo, buddy. Still alive?”

Recoil froze, nearly hearing that. “John? Johnny, John?”

“You know I damn well hate that nickname, right?”

“Maji manji?! Shooooot! Johnny!”

He threw himself at Bradford, wrapping his arms tightly around him and even lifted him up. He repeated his name several times, mixed in with several joyous ’I can’t believe it’ and other ramblings in English and Japanese as he twirled him around, very much ignoring Bradford’s laughs and protests to be put down. This drew quite the attention.

Eventually, he put him down and pulled away to catch his breath and contain his excitement.

“Calm, calm, calm…” He mumbled under his breath, struggling to get his breathing under control. But once he did, he looked back at Bradford. “You look so heckn’ different. The heck happened to you?”

Bradford shook his head. He looked away, towards the ground. Somber words left him. “War. Time. Alcohol. Let myself go down a dark hole for many years”

“Damn, buddy.” Moving closer, Charles placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. 

“It’s gotten better. Still struggle from time to time, but they,” he gestured towards the outside, “help keep me together. Besides our mission.”

“I can relate. Minus the drinking. Lost a lot of friends… Family.” His voice cracked for a moment before he quickly cleared it. “These guys, heh, these guys keep me going. And…” He trailed off, mumbling as his mind drifted to darker places. Then his grip tightened as gears clicked in his mind. His head snapped up and to Bradford. “My sis!” 

Bradford’s eye twitched.

“Jynn! Do you have any clue where s-s-she could be? Can’t find any records of her but I feel like she’s alive.” He spoke, tongue nearly tripping over his words. “I remember dad mentioning she got some big position when the War was just getting started and contact with her was sparse and—“

A firm hand gripped his shoulder. “Charles…” There was a sad look in Bradford’s eye. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It just hung loosely, tongue flapping about, throat trembling to speak, but nothing would come out.

His pupils shrank. He could feel himself shake. A lump grew in his throat, but he forced it down. “T-tell me.” He forced the words out. “You know something… tell me.”

“Get everyone out of this room and seal it.”

With everyone out and the doors closed, Bradford told him everything. Everything he could remember from the horrible day. The surprise coordinated attack across all the bases. Mass mind control turned everyone against each other. Every corner swarming with aliens as the base was crumbling around them. And then the worst part…

“We got separated. A tremor and mass rock fall separated us. Nearly got crushed by the rocks and girders coming down.” He paused, taking in a shaky breath. “By the time I got back up… one of those Mutons was on top of her. The butt of its rifle came crashing down on her face and brought her down. Bloodied her.”

“No…” Charles muttered.

“Next the damn alien picked her up, slinging her over its shoulder, and was quickly making its leave. I tried to follow but more rubble came down, followed by explosions, separated us. I switched to pure survival mode. Help who I could and get the hell out of there.” He shook his head. A hand went to his face and traced the scar. “The aliens have her.” 

With the story over, Charles was silent.

He stepped away. Soon, he paced back and forth. After a few pauses here and there, he looked at Bradford, mouth opening for a moment, before quickly shutting it. A moment later, he was jabbing his finger in Bradford’s chest several times. He barely reacted, almost as if he was expecting it.

“You… you… you…” Choked words came out. Tears streamed down his face. A frustrated sputtered yell slipped out as he turned around, throwing his hands up into the air before he went back to pace.

Then finally it hit. He let out an anguished yell as he fell to his knees and wept.

Giving him a few moments, Bradford went over and sat next to him, throwing an arm over him, which was quickly accepted.

“No, no, no…” Charles sputtered through sniffles. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.

“I’m so sorry, Charles.” 

It took a long time to console him as most of it was spent waving off people curious about the yells and crying it. But eventually, the wailing became choked sniffles.

“Why… why…?” Still processing it all, Charles just couldn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry.” Bradford sighed. He felt for him. He missed her too. “I have some positive news.”

“How can there be any positives?

“We believe she’s alive. We’ve been searching for her.”

He froze. A sniffle here and there before he slowly looked at him.“R-really!?”

Bradford nodded. “We’ve found some data. The aliens still have her. Not sure what they’re doing with her, but seem to be using her in some way.” Well, there was a theory, but he did not feel like it would be best to drop it on him. And then, personally, he was hoping the theory wasn’t true. “She’s alive.”

“What the hell…” He wasn’t sure if he could believe it, but there was a determination in Bradford’s eyes that eased some of the pain in his heart.

Some more time passed as Bradford shared some of their findings, keeping out any details that would make Charles spiral again. Everything weighed heavily on him. Why did the aliens capture her? A question he was afraid to have answered. 

Eventually, someone came in to tell them the Skyranger arrived. Bradford left for some time to make sure all the loading and unloaded went smoothly and to have Firebrand pass on a few more messages to the Avenger.

When he returned to the communications room, Charles was back on his feet and had cleaned up his face. There were still some sniffles and the occasional tear.

“Sorry to just… drop that all on you like,” Bradford just gestured with his hands, “that.”

Charles raised his hand. “Johnny, buddy. It’s fine. I kinda asked fer it. Would have pestered to get all the deets.”

He just nodded.

“Now… now I gotta ask.” Charles looked away for a moment before looking back at him. He leaned in and whispered. “You ever tell her?”

He raised a brow. Mind not exactly getting what he was he was saying. “Tell her wh—“ Then it clicked. “Oh, hell no!”Bradford blurted out, only to hush himself quickly. Tanned cheeks quickly became a rosey red. He quickly whispered back through gritted teeth. “She was my boss! We already had enough heat on us from our backers when they found out we knew each other as teenagers.”

“You had years before then, dumbass!” Charles knocked his head a few times with his knuckles, only to get his hand slapped away. “You two swapped letters when the both of yous were enlisted, and you still didn’t tell her?”

“I couldn’t think about a crush then and kinda… sorta… forgot about it.” 

Charles erupted into a snouty laugh, hand smacking his chest a few times. “You’re such a lousy liar! You still got the hots for her! Such a ea heddo aikō-ka!”

“Charles!”

The two squabbled a little longer on the subject until Charles finally felt like he had ruffled his old friend’s feathers enough.

“If she’s still alive, still alive,” and Charles prayed she was, “you better act on those feelings, Johnny.”

“I… will… consider… it.” Bradford was still conflicted about the topic. Duties came to mind first and how it was a bad idea to mix romance with their occupations. And sometimes he questioned if his crush was just merely an infatuation that never seemed to want to leave his mind, even when other opportunities for companionship and love had come around. He didn’t like to think about that much. 

“So, where do we go from here?” Charles asked.

“Well,” Bradford rolled his shoulder before gesturing for him to follow, “think we’ll get this refugee business all sorted and disable those ADVENT checkpoints.”

“Right. Right.”

“And then we’ll talk more about Jynn back on the Avenger. Also, get introduced to the rest of us. And help your outfit get some better gear.”

“Right…” He didn’t want to think about that. “New gear sounds good and maybe some tactical training? We have some greens that need it and then some refreshing would be nice for everyone.”

Bradford nodded. “I believe we can do that. Already helping out a local haven with some training.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Question…” A thought crossed Bradford’s mind.

“Yeah?

“What’s with that geared-up surgeon? Never seen such gear before.”

“Heh. That’s a story. Interesting faction they’re from.”

————

The Skyranger came back for a few more trips for those in the most critical state before switching over to moving the refugees to the havens Charles’ people had been in contact with.

Once that was all done, everyone backed up and joined XCOM for their trip back to the Avenger.

Charles could barely contain his excitement as soon as he saw that massive ship and pretty much a kid in a candy shop once they entered.

Bradford introduced him to the Senior crew and explained his relations to Commander Reeves. To say they were speechless would be an understatement. Many gave their condolences. 

Over several months interspersed with lots of training and many operations, Charles and his crew joined XCOM but in a more distant manner as there were many on the Avenger that were not found of the idea of aliens and Hybrids joining even if they were loyal to the cause. But he was fine with his people being on the ground. They had ways to get around fairly fast.

With their new skills and tactics, Charles and crew set out to do their own information gathering to track down the location of Commander Reeves. He kept in close contact with Bradford, filling him in on any discoveries they may have made or supports to the cause they came across. Inadvertently, his crew became quite the roving band to bring people together and quickly get them established. 

Bradford really couldn’t believe he had been communicating with an old friend for so long. Really, he was happy it was him. Something from the past the aliens didn’t destroy. It brought some much light to his darkened soul and gave him another push to from Jynn. XCOM needed their Commander back. Charles needed his sister. And he really wanted his friend back.

For now, he had to put his feelings aside to run XCOM and the resistance. He was the acting commander for the time being. 

At least he had one thing to look forward to when they had to decipher particular encrypted messages. Something that made his soul lighter. 

“Yo, Johnny! You still alive?”

[arasjeep]

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[modyjeep]

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[jeepindia12345]

[archivallyfound09]

You Told Me Not To Think! pt. 12 (end)

Still here! Still on my phone! Sorry in advance :)

Don’t steal or post people’s things as your own-not cool. None of these characters are mine-just borrowing them to advance the plot.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader (f)

Warnings: None yet, suggestive comments/language for now.

Thanks #pohjanneito for the gif! :)

You piled into the Jeep with Rooster, him making quite a bit of noise as he loaded a cooler and some warm six packs into the trunk. You rolled your eyes.

“Dude, beer IN the cooler.”

He caught your eye in the rear view mirror and shot you a shit-eating grin with a wink for good measure. You laughed as he gave you a “whatever you say, baby” in his best Elvis impersonation. He closed the trunk with ease and climbed into the passenger seat, smiling at you and reaching for his aviators that were on top of your head.

“Uh uh,” you smacked his hand away playful, “pilot needs their shades,” you put them on, over exaggerating enough to make Rooster laugh. He leaned back in his seat, arms behind his head and you put the Jeep in drive.

“By all means, captain, let’s go!” He laughed, loud 80’s music blaring from your speakers and the wind blew through your hair on your way to the beach, sun just slighting starting to set.

You had barely parked when Rooster jumped out of the car, running towards his friends. You signed and shook your head, looking at the now-full cooler in your trunk. You pulled the key out of the ignition and made your way to the back, stretching a bit before you popped the back.

A hand collided with yours as you attempted to grab the handles of the red cooler. Your eyes met Maverick’s- definitely not who you thought would be at your side, or there at all. You smiled.

“Want to help? I can pay in beer,” you added, hoping to sweeten the deal. Maverick chuckled and nodded.

“Beer sounds like a fair trade. So…” he trailed off looking towards Rooster and the other pilots, celebrating like that hadn’t been on a suicide mission days earlier, “you and Rooster?” he tried to say casually.

You looked down the beach and saw eyes on you. “You and Penny?” You countered, waggling an eyebrow at him. You both laughed as he hoisted one side of the cooler and you slammed the back closed. His laugh was slow to die down.

“We have a saying, when you’re in the air, if you think, you’re dead,” Maverick said, eyes forward as you watched his face closely. “Rooster was too in his head, too caught up, too-“ he paused, the pair of you stopping your walk, “too cautious.”

You smiled, “Maverick, I can’t tell if you’re talking about him or yourself.” He smiled and you started walking again.

“I told him to stop thinking, just react, just run on instinct,” he placed the cooler down near where Coyote had already started the fire. You looked up at Maverick, a question on your lips, but you were interrupted.

“Like I said, you told me not to think!” Rooster barged into the conversation laughing and opening the cooler, bending down between you and Maverick and rifling through the ice for a cold bottle. You rolled your eyes and Maverick let out another laugh.

Rooster held up a beer in triumph and you watched Maverick snatch it from him, shocking the younger man. “Advice like that costs. Thanks, Rooster!” He raised his bottle in mock appreciation and walk toward Penny, settling into a beach chair.

Rooster grumbled something under his breath and grabbed two bottles, handing one to you and closing the cooler. “Beach volleyball?” He asked, looking at you hopeful (and with a smidge of taunting in his eyes). You shook your head, shooing him over to the game that had already started.

“Hell of a view,” you commented over to Penny. She smiled and shoved Maverick’s arm. “Go show ‘em how it’s done, Captain,” she challenged.

——

As the sun almost completely disappeared beyond the horizon, you sat comfortably next to Rooster, his hand on your knee as he talked with Bob. You looked at the whole crew surrounding the fire and studied each of their faces.

It was serendipity (with a hint of ego and stupidity) that brought them all together. You knew most would leave and go back to their lives elsewhere, but you’d all have this. This…whatever this was.

You smiled, looking down at Roosters tan hand squeezing you knee and you leaned into him. Hangman loudly gagged, “get a room you two!” He snarked, laughing and hoping for one more chance to embarrass you and Rooster.

Everyone looked at you and you reacted before Rooster could even process what was happening, you put your drink down and tackled Rooster over the log you were sitting on, kissing him as he fell onto his back. Both you and Rooster were more laughing than anything as you heard Hangman’s faint “oh god” while other whooped and clapped, laughing. The two of you came up, sand all over your backs, Rooster wrapping an arm around your shoulder as Penny took over, playing some music from her phone.

You snuggled into Rooster’s side, joining in the impromptu karaoke session. ‘No thinking’ Maverick mouthed at you and you smiled with a nod, settling in and glancing up at Rooster.

———

That’s all for this one folks! :) Thanks for all the love!

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Pt. 4

Pt. 5

Pt. 6

Pt. 7

Pt. 8

Pt. 9

Pt. 10

Pt. 11

Pt. 12

[cowboy-turtle]

Let Go

Part 10 of the La Parca series

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Words: 6.2k

Tags: Smut: unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f receiving), praise kink (kind of a given for me i guess? lol); unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, cliffhanger ending

A/N: Oh man am I so excited to share a new update with y'all! LP is dialing back to once-a-month updates now, but I hope y'all enjoy this part regardless. Without trying to spoil too much, we are catching up to some plot points in Narcos this story is also going to cover, and Javier isn't known to be the best at coping with bad news...

Previous Part | Masterlist

November almost slips away before you notice, just like the seconds you’re able to spend with Javier. After your return from Bogotá your time together whittles down to stolen moments, the nights he’s able to sneak away to you ending with him slipping into your apartment well past bedtime, waking you up with lazy kisses and wandering hands until you melt beneath him.

He must know how much you miss seeing his smile greet you in the morning, the glint of his eye playful in the early light. They’ve been traded in for a few words exchanged over a shared cigarette now, as he struggles to stay awake for another minute with you.

He wants to make these moments last before the door has to shut behind him, leaving so early he beats the first peak of the dawning sun. Only the ghost of him remains, the smell of him lingering on the pillow, the condensation from his quick shower slowly dissolving from the mirror. You estimate that most nights he averages three hours of sleep, not counting the turns of the clock he tries to spend with you.

You think you’re still dreaming, then, when you find him one morning, leaning against the kitchen counter finishing the last of his coffee. He’s already ready for the day, buttoned shirt tucked into dark jeans as he turns to pour a mug for you, pulling you closer when you draw near to accept it.

“I have an extra hour,” he says in the open space of your first sip, your hum of appreciation creasing his eyes. “I thought I could drive you in today.”

Your eyes pop open excitedly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, as long as you get ready,” he grimaces goodnaturedly, “morning breath.”

“You love it,” you volley back, bumping his shoulder on your way to the bathroom.

You try to remember the last time it was like this, walking to his Jeep parked down the block, his hand warming the small of your back as you cross the street. It must have been weeks ago, the day after you returned from your trip.

The thrill of your helicopter ride with him the night before had still been thrumming through your veins, and you'd almost been late meeting him downstairs after spending too much time in front of the mirror. You were too busy tracing your skin, admiring the softly blooming marks his hands had left on your hips, the imprints of his passion across your collarbone.

You called them your favorite souvenirs from Bogotá when you mentioned them to Javi in the car with a laugh. You lurched in your seat then, when he took a sudden left turn right before the campus gates. The darkening privacy of a back alley engulfed you just as much as the hunger in his eyes did as he cut the engine.

“Show me then,” he ordered greedily. “I want to see.”

A shiver races up from between your legs at the memory, noticed in the peripheral of Javier’s aviators.

“What is it?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Nothing.”

The arch of his brow tells you that of course he doesn’t believe it, but you deflect.

“Can we visit the bakery?”

His shoulders dip with a sigh as he gives a curt shake of his head. “I don’t think we have the time.”

It seems like you never do nowadays. You glance over at him, and know that it’s enough that he’s here with you now. The steady assurance of his hand gripping the steering wheel, the familiar route he’s carved to your destination apparent in the easygoing nature of his drive.

But you also can’t ignore how exhausted he is underneath it all. The toil of his work deepens the dark under his eyes, his long eyelashes kissing the crescent pillows of fatigue with each haggard blink doing little to make up for his lack of sleep. Whenever you asked if there was anything you could do, whispered in those brief moments in the dead of night, he only answers with another brush of his mouth on you, a crook of his fingers that makes you tremble as he requests that you make that pretty sound again for me, baby.

“Maybe I’ll stop by on my way home,” you compromise, watching the bustling sidewalks of the city waking up outside your passenger window.

“Yeah? Will you save some for me?”

“Mm,” you shrug, “no promises.”

He shoots you a look, but any venom behind it is offset by the thin press of his mouth fighting a smile. He knows you’d save an entire dozen if he asked.

You pass the rest of the ride in easy silence, until he hums to himself as he pulls up to your stop.

“I should teach you how to drive this one day.”

“Yeah?” You scrunch your nose at him, “but then I don’t get to hit on my handsome driver.”

He chuckles deeply, shaking his head, and you want to bottle up the sound and carry its smoky warmth in your chest. He silences any more snark from your mouth by pressing his lips to yours, your peal of laughter muffled on his tongue prodding at you in a tease.

You have the luxury of time for a second, your eyes dancing across his face to admire the smile in his voice, the promise to see you later whispered on your lips. The morning sunlight catching on the short curls of his dark hair, glinting in the amber lenses of his glasses. It was simple, this warmth, this belonging.

And you had a funny feeling.

It was never going to be like this again.

The sudden clarity of your fleeting happiness hits you like a bullet straight through the back. You can’t trust the odd urgency cloying in your throat to ask him to stop, to wait in this moment before it’s gone. A calm contentment eases across his features that had been missing for too long, and you would do anything for it to stay there longer. You want time to stand still, to sit here in the car with him and never leave. But each second marches on, and he reminds you gently that he has places to be when another minute passes.

So you let him go. You have to, with the hard pavement hitting your feet reminding you that you couldn’t float through life in an easy car ride. His hand out the window raises in farewell, the sound of his goodbye carries to you on a light breeze until his tail lights turn the corner and disappear.

It only takes an hour before you wish you ran after those tail lights.

The bursar’s office had requested a meeting with you about your upcoming fellowship, to discuss the costs of the flights and the tuition and the student visa you assumed would be covered by the university.

“What do you mean it’s not all covered?”

You stare at the paper the financial administrator handed you when you first sat down, the numbers and their commas swimming in your vision.

She sighs, punching the end of her pencil on the pads of a clunky calculator until it spits out more results on a roll of paper. “The grant can only cover so much for you and the other students going, and unfortunately,” she shakes her head with a click of her tongue, “we didn’t receive as much aid from our American sponsor as we anticipated.”

You huff, annoyed. You’d been reduced to a sob story in front of the ambassador, and this is what they had to show for it?

“So how much do I have to cover?”

The ancient printer in the corner wheezes to life, coughing out another piece of paper.

“As I’m sure you know, the office has been using the fund your family left behind for you to cover the costs of your attendance.” She hands you the paper then with a grimace. “It’s going to run out at the end of the spring semester.”

You balk at the final number in red at the bottom, trying to school your expression when you glance back up. “There’s nothing left in the account?”

“Well, it wasn’t that big to begin with.” She looks away from her computer screen and frowns at the distraught expression she’s met with. “Look, I know money talk is uncomfortable. Are you going to be able to cover these costs?”

You swallow, staring back down at that final number.

“Because if you need to drop out of the position, the committee will need ample time to find the next candidate.”

“No!” You look up at her then. “No, I’ll be able to do it.”

“Good.” She nods, signaling the end of your conversation as you dart for the door.

The numbers loom over your head like a raincloud, the anxiety of what to do pattering down on your shoulders. You sold off everything you could last year, just to get rid of the reminders, so what else could there be? You could ask for a loan from someone, but you had to be positive it would be the right person. You didn’t want to face unnerving consequences if you couldn’t pay them back. But how would you be able to return their money eventually? And if the account was running out soon, how would you keep up with rent payments? Groceries?

You can’t bring yourself to stop by the bakery, afraid the number on the cash register would only deepen your despair more. Hopefully the girls won’t notice if you don’t order anything at drinks tonight. You need a clear head to figure things out.

You’re picking at the peeling paint of the fenced gate waiting for Vanessa to emerge from the end of her shift, foot tapping with each passing minute when a hand grips your elbow. It’s a harsh squeeze that yanks you back against a firm chest, an exhaling breath too close for comfort crawling up the skin of your neck.

“Candy,” they taunt. “Long time no see. How much for an hour now, eh?”

“My shift just ended,” you lie, recognizing the voice enough to know better. “I’m only waiting for Freckles.”

“Oh, you wanna spend your time with other people then, don’t you? We’re not good enough for you anymore?”

You don’t answer, eyes glued to the open door as if your vigilance would speed up Vanessa’s arrival.

“No? Then how about we take this back to my place? You still offering that?” His fingers dig into your skin, the jarring pain ringing panic up your chest. “Is that what you’re offering to—“

“Quica!” Vanessa shouts from the doorway, walking quickly down the steps towards you. “Quit bothering her. Our hour wasn’t good enough?”

She ignores your pleading look for help with a wink and a giggle at your captor, which loosens his grip enough for you to slip away.

“Of course not,” he soothes her by smoothing hair away from her face, then nods his head towards you. “We just don’t want her to forget about her favorite customers.” He looks at you then, a harder gaze. “Isn’t that right?”

“Well, the next time you miss her,” Vanessa steps into his line of view, steering his attention away with the gentle guidance of her hand on his cheek, “you come and see me, okay? I can make you forget about anyone.”

He smiles at that and she places a quick kiss to his cheek, stepping away when he reaches for more.

“Visit me tomorrow, yeah?” Vanessa asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder to send him one last flirtatious look. She sways her hips to catch his focus away from the arm she slings around your shoulders to start guiding you down the street.

“You’re bad for my wallet, Freckles!” He calls after her and she sends a bubbling giggle in response, waving him away until you turn the corner.

“Do you think he knows?” you ask when you’re safely away from earshot.

Vanessa’s eyes dart to you, all playfulness gone and replaced with an unsettling unease. “I don’t think so.”

You give her a look and she returns it right back. “Trust me,” she continues, “I think you’d know if he knew.” A shudder runs through her as she frowns at the sidewalk. “He’d make sure you knew.”

Did they really think you were still working? Did that mean they were still keeping an eye on you, seeing where you went? Who you were meeting with? Perhaps it was time to stop visiting Freckles at your old workplace, just to disappear from their eyes for a bit.

“Ladies!” Carmen calls out once she spots you, breaking through the shared gloom that followed you and Vanessa into the bar. “What are we drinking tonight?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Vanessa sighs, “and make it strong.”

You shake your head, slipping into the booth opposite her. “Nothing for me.”

The girls exchange a glance before Carmen leans towards you, head in hands and eyes wide. “So when’s the due date?”

“What?” you ask as they both break out into laughter at the look on your face. “I’m not pregnant,” you grumble, “I just don’t want a drink.”

Carmen waves off your response to let you know she was only joking, but Vanessa wiggles her eyebrows. “Well, you wouldn’t be the only one knocked up right now.”

It’s your turn to stare at Vanessa with Carmen.

“Van,” Carmen pushes incredulously. “Do you have something to tell us?”

“Ugh, not me!” she scoffs like it’s obvious. “Carmelita’s pregnant but…” she lowers her voice, “she just found out, not even the baby daddy knows. So don’t tell her I said anything.”

“Actually,” Carmen leans forward, clutching the table’s edge with her own offering, “did you hear about the baby daddy?” The table launches into the juicy gossip of the week, something you enjoy over your glass of tepid water.

“They’ve been so on edge lately,” Carmen sighs, talking about her latest customers, “they won’t even talk about it. But I think there’s someone new in town or something. Someone they’re scared of.”

Oh. You sit up straighter. “It might be Colonel Carrillo,” you look between the two of them. “They already know he’s back?”

Carmen shrugs into another sip of her drink, but Vanessa squints at you. “For someone who doesn’t want to get too involved, you sure know a lot about their business.”

You cast her a playful squint back. “Maybe it’s just the company I keep.”

Her hand comes down to squeeze your wrist with a gasp. “Wait, have you met him then? Is he just as handsome as he is in the papers?” She shimmies her shoulders, eyes alight with interest. “Such a broad man.”

Carmen snorts, rolling her eyes. “He’s bad for business and you still want him. Is there anyone who isn’t your type?”

Vanessa argues back, but your mind is already traveling elsewhere. If the narcos were aware of Carrillo’s return, you needed to warn Javier as soon as possible.

It doesn’t look like you’ll get the chance tonight, though, once you return back to your empty apartment. You never know when to expect him next, the rhyme or reason behind his unpredictable schedule a complicated code you weren’t privy to crack. He’s barely in the office either, whenever you try calling him there. So you can only opt for an extra hour of waiting up, in the slight chance you might catch him before he passes out without waking you.

That never happens, and you’ve learned by now that no amount of delaying your sleep brings him here any faster. A quick interlude in the bathroom, and then you’re crawling into the expanse of a lonely mattress for the night.

The bed dips on his side sometime past two, and you’re somewhere between a dream and the present, waiting for the reassuring weight of him to press down more. But the shifts of his legs and then his head resting down do not follow, and you stir further awake when you hear his ragged breath. You can barely make out the dark form of his back, curved down to where he’s resting his head on his hands, elbows planted on knees.

“Javi?” The sleep in your voice almost steals the word but his profile appears over his shoulder nonetheless, the curve of his nose, the glint of his eye addressing you.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

There’s something off about his voice, vacant and toneless, and the way he turns away again when you sit up.

“What happened?” you ask but he only shakes his head, the scratch of his hands rubbing across his face the lone sound he gives.

“Javi…” you try again, a hand hesitating on his shoulder presses further when he doesn’t draw away. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just…” he draws a deep breath, the hand connecting you rising and falling with his shoulders. “I don’t know. Just be with me. Is that okay?”

You nod, then realize he can’t see you. “Okay.”

He stands back up then, your hand dropping down to his absence as he kicks off his shoes. You find it odd that he hadn’t left his shoes by the door like he normally does, and puzzles you further by not undressing. He only reaches into his pockets and the back of his belt, depositing a badge and a handgun unceremoniously onto the nightstand. The sight of it runs a course of cold dread through you for a second.

He’s never brought his gun into the bedroom before, always careful to put it where you didn’t see. It’s almost like he hadn’t been planning on staying, if you hadn’t woken up.

He sinks back into the mattress, into the cradle of your arms as you draw him closer. You work the top button of his shirt, but a gentle hand guides you away. You look up at him.

“Just,” he shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Just this.”

His body moulds into yours, head on your shoulder and face craned into your neck to hide away from you. His arms wrap around like he wants to draw you closer into the miniscule space between your intertwined bodies, and you reciprocate with as much intensity. You can’t remember if you’ve ever had a night with him that didn’t end in tangled sheets and panting breaths, but tonight is different. He’s being careful, guarded, something seemingly ready to crack right beneath his closed-off surface. All you can do is hold him, combing his hair through your fingers until you feel his grip slacken and his breath even out, not even making it under the covers yet. He mumbles something softly against your skin and you still your hand.

“What was that?”

He nuzzles closer into you. Then, on an exhale, “I’m sorry.”

You stare down at the slight peak of forehead he offers. “What for?”

But he doesn’t answer, whatever reason abandoned at the doorstep of sleep overtaking him. You press your lips to that tiny sliver of forehead, whispering to his dreams, “you have nothing to be sorry for.” And then sleep comes to greet you too.

He meets you there, in your dreams. The setting is unfamiliar, but you’d know that smile anywhere. It curves in the cheek that’s nestled in your hand, an unspoken translation carried in your touch. The floor you’re lying on is harder than your bed and the room is built of exposed wood, dappling sunlight dancing through the breeze of an open window to create intrinsic designs on the boards of a low ceiling. It feels like home here, one you’ve built together.

Javier murmurs something indiscernible, the thumb sweeping your jaw traveling to trace your lower lip, then moving down the column of your throat. A soft sigh escapes, shifting closer to him but he stops at your sternum, drawing his hand away to reach for your hip instead. He glides his hand down tenderly, anticipation heating your skin as he eases your legs open. You shift to assist him, but the world goes off-kilter, fading at the edges with every movement you try to help with.

You find yourself moving in bed when you draw back into reality, a frustrated sigh seeping past your lips. You blink open to find Javier’s hand steady where it had been just moments before in your mind, thumb rubbing along your inner thigh in a soft grip. He’d been deep in thought observing this action as a spectator, the faraway look in his eyes startling when you stir. He sighs, eyes clamping shut as he ducks down before shifting away.

A sound of disapproval rattles past your lips, hooking your knee around his leg to draw his body back in until you gasp. He’s hard in his jeans, the bulge pressed against the curve of your belly twitching when you shift your hips closer to his. He groans, lurching up before you can get any closer to him, and resumes his harried posture at the edge of the bed.

You can’t tell for sure, but you think he was going for his shoes when you sit up and reach out to stop him. You shuffle behind him and pull him into a backwards hug, hands squeezing stiff shoulders as his rigid back meets your chest. You slot your chin on the shelf of his broad shoulder, craning your neck for a glimpse of his face hiding under his hands.

“Javi,” you coax gently, “please, tell me what’s going on.”

But he doesn’t answer, breathing hard like he’s run away from whatever problem he’s hiding from. You squeeze his arm, hesitating to ask again.

“What…what do you really need?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden until your fingers graze across his wrist in a silent request for access. His eyes emerge, staring forward resolutely until they finally dip down to address you.

The pleading look in his eyes stops you. It’s one you’ve seen hundreds of times before in another lifetime, in the men who came to see you to escape whatever was haunting them. He needed to get out the frustration, the guilt, the pain, whatever it was this time that was making him look to you so desperately now. And if he wasn’t able to talk about it, you knew what worked for him instead.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, watching the question of your motive flicker across his face. You bend towards him, brushing your lips to his ear as he shudders beneath you. Your next words come out as a breathless plea.

“Use me.”

You move again, watching as a different kind of hunger consumes his dark eyes. You wait for him to decide, almost too afraid to move any closer to him. In the ricochet of his rough breaths fanning across your cheek you give him a tiny, encouraging nod, forehead bumping against his.

He reaches for you then, hand forming around your jaw to keep you stationed under his observing gaze as he straightens up. A peek of his tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip before he rushes in to close the small space, ducking down to kiss you. His breath snags in his throat at the brief suggestion of your tongue greeting his, his fingers pressing firmer along your cheek to bring you in closer. He tilts your jaw just so to open your mouth and deepen the kiss, a low hum resounding from his throat at the small whimper he breathes in from you. He controls the ebb and flow of your passion, angling your chin up to expose your neck to his scraping teeth, sucking a mark at the base that leaves you squirming in his grip.

A quiet cry of his name brings him back up, the black of his blown-out pupils threatening to devour you. There’s a harshness around the edges that your hand comes up to smooth out, wanting to reciprocate his touch, his attention, and reflect it back to him. You barely skim his cheekbone before he pulls away, standing up so suddenly you startle. He looms over you, hands reaching for the front of his belt to the sound of sliding leather.

He stares down at you, nodding once with a hardened, unfamiliar look.

“Take off your clothes.”

Your heart jumpstarts at the murmured command, rushing to follow it with the quick discard of your pajamas. You shimmy back onto the mattress when he beats you to the end goal, voicing his impatience of you still wearing panties when he sinks his knees on either side of you and pushes you to lie down. He resumes his assault on your neck, the silky suction of his mouth making your hips roll up in response. Your legs want to spread, but they’re caught between the snare of his sturdy thighs, locking you in place under his single-minded destruction.

You push your hips up higher, the front of your clothed cunt rubbing against his erection and he grunts, moving down your body to administer harsh love bites across your breasts. He tugs and sucks at your nipples hard enough for a whine to whistle past your lips, the remnants of his attention glistening along the hardened peaks when he licks down to your navel.

The room spins for a moment, and you’re on your stomach before you realize he’s flipped you over, guiding your hips up until your knees are bent to give him room to slide your underwear off. It’s tossed to the side in favor of his hands roaming up your exposed thighs, cupping the flesh of your ass to spread your cheeks apart. He kneads you in his grip, a sinful groan coming from somewhere up behind you making you burn under his focused watch of your clenching pussy.

His tongue slides through your folds before you can expect it, making you jolt at the sudden wet pressure prodding at your entrance. He growls, hand smacking across the flesh it was holding in an order to keep still. A stuttered moan leaks out of you when he doubles his efforts on the other side, two harsh slaps cracking through the heavy air before he’s kneading away the pain.

He brings his mouth down to your bundle of nerves, tongue flicking across it while his nose prods at your hole, inhaling deeply enough to make you shudder beneath him. You can feel yourself coating the bridge of his nose, slippery and growing wetter with each pass of his mouth.

The first coils of pleasure begin to tighten deep in your belly, but when you push your hips back against his face he draws away to your pathetic whine. He hoists you up until your hands and knees support your weight, wiping his face and spitting into his hand from his position behind you. The lewd sound of his slick palm pumping his cock makes you tighten in anticipation, forcing yourself to relax when he presses forward to guide the swollen head between your lips.

You moan in unison as he enters you steadily, taking you from behind and stretching you open until his fingers leave the base to wrap around your hips. He stays like that for a second, turbulent breath stuttering at the way your pussy flutters around the tight fill of him. His hips retreat and push forward in a shallow thrust but there’s no energy behind it, his thighs straining against yours as he groans. You peek over your shoulder to his gritted face set in a stiff expression, trying his best to keep his composure until his eyes meet yours. He shivers, eyebrows falling.

“Cariño,” he warns, “I can’t…I can’t be gentle…”

“Javi,” you urge, canting your hips back until he shudders and clamps his eyes shut, squeezing his grip so tightly you freeze in place. “You can let go.” You swallow the last of your hesitations, giving yourself completely over to him. “I’ve got you.”

When his gaze greets you again, brokenness overflowing from the depths of his tragic eyes, you watch as it hardens into something new, a mask that overtakes his features. It’s not Javier who is looking back at you now. It’s Agent Peña.

The next drive of his cock forward leaves you breathless, punching out a gasp for air as he does it again, harder, and again, building up a momentum. Your head rolls forward, dipping beneath the peaks of your shoulder blades as you try to match his quickening pace with each push of your body back. He growls, taking over your movement with the grip of his hands on you, slamming you back to meet each heavy thrust.

You cry out his name but he’s like a man possessed, fucking you at a frenzied rate and all you can do is let him take what he needs from your body. It’s almost animalistic the way he growls and grunts behind you, the hard pummel of his hips snapping to the giving flesh of your ass echoing the sounds of his assertion over you. You knew when he grew aggressive in bed it was to forget, but you’ve never seen him taken over by it like he is now.

The force of his cock punching into you pushes you closer to the edge, the end of the mattress threatening to reach you as the bed rocks and creaks in protest. He presses you down until your moans are muffled into the sheets, his body heavy over yours as he mounds his chest to your back, knees still tucked under to keep your lower half raised to him. The new angle pushes him in deep, filling you so completely that no amount of sheets bunching and slipping through the grip of your fingers could give you any semblance of control.

You surrender to him, sobs and cries of pleasure swallowed into the mattress. His teeth cinch around the curve of your shoulder, breath hot against your trembling body. There isn’t an inch of you exposed that isn’t pressed tightly to his searing skin. He’s commanding every thrust, every breath that knocks out of your lungs, but just underneath you could tell something was broken. Something pained colored the edge of his voice that his grunts of praise, yes—fuck—that’s a good girl, did little to mask.

The dizzying pressure of him splitting you open pulls and stretches the tight band coiling in your core, threatening to snap with every punishing pound. You thought he’d seen, touched, devoured every part of you but here he was finding more room to escape into, more of you to consume in this act of claiming, forging himself into the very heart that’s drumming a crescendo for him.

Discontent rushes out with his breath, as if he’s reached the very depth and somehow still found it not enough. His fingers find their way around the front of your throat, gripping you just enough to hoist you back up with him. Your body bows under his will as he fucks you harder, chest pressed to your spine and hips hammering the back of your thighs more frantically. His other hand grabs at your breast clumsily, groping the amount he can find in the rough callous of his palm. You hold onto this hand for leverage, the size of his fingers dwarfing yours when they curl together.

His breath starts to get more labored, groans edging out with every grunted pant. You crane your chin, catching his hardened face as he darts his eyes away from yours. He’s all wound up, set jaw and pinched brow and you reach for him, fingers fumbling to make contact with his cheek. He almost rears away from your touch, nostrils flaring, but he has nowhere to go, connected to you so closely inside and out.

“I’ve got you,” you gasp out in a reminder, his eyes flickering back to yours. “Let go.”

Your permission is all it takes for the last of his resolve to shatter, his face falling open as his pace changes into a determined release. You whisper him through it, murmuring encouragements of how much you want to feel him, see him, all of him, please, please, please. Whatever walls he built tonight are crumbling as he squeezes you harder into him, desperate to keep you in his hold. Looking at him come undone like this was like watching a train wreck, hurtling towards mutual destruction and all you can do is hold on for the ride.

He stiffens with a quick gasp and then he’s tumbling down, pulsing inside of you with a quiet groan he releases from a mouth pressed tightly to your neck. Your hand finds the mess of sweating curls at the back of his head, keeping him there for a moment as he comes back down, hips still performing a slowing phantom imitation until he softens.

You hold each other there, joined together before he slowly slips out of you with a tight breath, cradling your body with hands roaming your figure. He kisses your shoulder, a heavy press of his mouth that rocks you forward slightly until he eases you in a downward turn, setting you down for your head to meet the pillows. He frames you from above, shielding you from the changing light that’s beginning to spill past your curtains. A faraway look still clouding his eyes searches for something between each slowing breath, pupils darting around until they deepen as they return back to you in the present.

“Where did you go?” you ask him tentatively, hand reaching for his cheek. He leans away before your fingers can reach him, ducking his face down instead. His mouth busies itself against your skin instead of with words.

“Javi—"

He looks up at the mention of his name. “You didn’t get to—"

You shake your head and bring him up towards you. “Javi, tell me what’s going on.”

You watch his face change in the fleeting dark shadows of your room, the beginnings of a new day just outside reminding you that you would never stop time, that whatever decisions you both were about to make could not be taken back.

He doesn’t answer right away, sitting up and reaching in search of his jacket. He affixes his traditional postcoital cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling up with each pass to his lips. You scooch to press your ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat relax back into its steady rhythm beneath you, until what’s left of his favorite vice is crushed in the ashtray past your shoulder. His freed hand comes to rest on the crown of your head gently.

“You told me to use you,” he murmurs, eyes forward in contemplation. “Is that…is that what you used to say…to…?”

“No.” You shift to look up at him, evening your line of vision by propping an elbow up with a shake of your head. “And I wouldn’t let them leave marks.”

His gaze flickers down to the blossoming bruise on your neck, his teeth marks still fading beneath his shaky exhale. He frowns and ducks down, kissing the mark tenderly and you take this chance to cradle his head this time, moving your bodies until you’re the one holding him. He relaxes into you and you’re both quiet for a moment, breathing, giving him the space to talk if he wanted to while your fingers map new paths through his hair.

You don’t think he will after a long pause, the soft call of a premature morning bird outside filling his silence. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe it’s not bothering him anymore.

“Carrillo killed a kid.”

You tense, your fingers stopping their circles on his scalp.

“On accident?”

He scrubs a hand across his face and his silence is enough of an answer.

“How old were they?”

“Cariño—”

“Javier.”

He sighs. “I don’t know, twelve? Thirteen?” Your heart pangs at the thought. That’d been the last birthday your brother had celebrated. You wonder if the kid’s family knew yet, or if they were worried sick like yours had been for an entire week.

“Sometimes you’re in this for so long,” Javier’s broken voice brings you back to him, his face pressing into your throat more to absorb his words, “you begin to wonder if you were ever even the good guy.”

“Hey,” you chastise him gently, “of course you’re the good guy.”

He doesn’t offer a response, and so you hope you can convince him in the reassuring squeeze you give his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. You eventually slip back into an uneasy slumber like this, but no more dreams come to visit you that night.

When you wake in the late morning he’s long gone, any trace of his presence the night before vanished along with him. You could sense him drawing away, letting his work plague him until it’d consume him whole. You didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it in time or if he’d just let it happen. The only thing you were certain of was that you wanted your Javier back.

But just how far were you willing to go to get him?

The shrill ring of your landline draws you away from an answer when you go to pick up the phone.

Vanessa’s panicked voice rushes out so fast, it takes your request for her to repeat for the words to fall.

“We can’t find David,” she sobs. “Have you seen him?”

--

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