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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

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What is Bondarev (BSB ver) actually like in the novels? In my WIP, I’m trying to be as close to the lore as I can with certain parts, so it’s hard to write in a character that I have no clue what his personality actually is like. Also does he have a full name? Is Bondarev his first or last name? I noticed Herzog has a full name thanks to the Fandom wiki you and Hectab are working on :3

Ask and Ye shall receive. (very long post below with allllllllllll of the stuff you asked for.)

VERY HANDSOME

This was a man who was a sight to behold, handsome and straight, with iron gray hair neatly combed back and styled with hairspray, and a muscular body that was defined and supple. Many would describe him as sexy. The sentry had seen such handsome young officers in Moscow, but this one was too unbelievable. He was actually wearing only military shorts and sleeveless undershirt, sweating in the -10 degree wind. The man fished out a lighter from his shorts and lit it with aplomb, the sterling silver case etched with the words "70th anniversary of the October Revolution".

The sentry could not refuse this kindness and went over to light the cigarette.

"Here you go." The man tossed the lighter to the sentry, "In such a cold place, you need to use aviation kerosene with low freezing point, you should save that for the summer."

The sentry then realized that he still had the unlit lighter in his hand, the man's insight was actually keen to this point. Furthermore, people should be eager to find a warm place to rest at this moment. This also shows that he still has energy left for skiing in such extremely cold weather. The man took out a dark gray officer's uniform from his military duffel bag, and after a few moments, he finished putting it on and solemnly pinned a "Red Flag Medal" on his chest. A minute ago he was a skier, a minute later he had a frown of determination, a young man of power from Moscow.

"KGB Major Bondarev, I'm from Moscow." The man pulled out his papers, "Take me to Dr. Herzog and tell him that this is the moment of survival."

"Yes! Comrade Major!" The sentry saluted.

The man stated his identity in the simplest terms; he was an envoy from Moscow, a key member of the secret intelligence service. In the days of the Tsar, such a man was called a "minister".

********ICE PROOF*************

He pressed the detonator in his hand, after a short dull explosion, the marble base in the snow was blown up, Lenin bronze statue slanted in the snow. The noise of this micro-acoustic thunderstorm was so small that it was muffled by the wind within a few steps. The Black Swan Harbor is notoriously heavily guarded, but the most important aspect is the extreme cold, and standing outside for ten minutes on a night like this can lead to severe frostbite. Because of the blizzard, visibility was less than five meters. The soldiers did not expect anyone else to dare to move outside, and they ignored the fact that Bondarev had an extraordinary tolerance for the cold.

-----

"I sometimes think that people who like to drink can't be bad. So I like you a lot, you know vodka." Dr. Herzog removed the Makolov pistol and handed over a cold glass.

A light struck down from above, enveloping the Doctor and Bondarev. The glass reflected the light, as clear as the most expensive crystal glassware, but it was carved from a whole block of solid ice, pure ice, without any air bubbles, with cornflower patterns carved on the outer wall. The two men gently clinked their glasses and drank the wine in one gulp.

　　Bondarev played with the ice carved glass: "It's wonderful, the spirits wrapped in ice, as moving as a stunning young woman under the appearance of an iceberg. I think my hands will freeze and to it."

　　"Usually people who drink from such an ice glass have to wear leather gloves, and only people like you, Major, who are not afraid of the cold can hold it in their hands. It is carved from old ice in the -30 degree strata and also kept at -30 degrees, making it the coldest drinking vessel for the warmest of wines." The doctor said, He said so, but he was also holding the glass with his empty hand, his slender hand was stable and did not tremble at all because of the low temperature.

****** SUPPOSED ROYAL FAMILY and EXTREMELY RICH ***************

　　"Bondarev, a KGB major, from Moscow, these are the truth. I only concealed from you the name of my great-grandmother, her name was Nastasya Nikolaevna Romanova." Bondarev slowly pronounced this long, awkward name, like a magician reciting a forbidden spell.

　　The doctor was stunned: "Was it the last royal daughter of the Romanov dynasty?"

　　Nastasia was the last princess of the Romanov dynasty, the last dynasty to rule Russia until it was overthrown by the October Revolution in 1917. in 1918, the last Tsar Nicholas II and his entire family were secretly executed by the Red Army. Nastasia was the youngest daughter of Nicholas II, and although she was young, she was given the title of "Grand Duchess", which made her more honored than other royal princesses in Europe at the time, and princesses were required to curtsy and address her as "Your Imperial Highness" during their audiences. It was rumored that she was the only one who escaped execution, and that her name Nastasia meant "resurrection".

　　"Since there is still me, the grandson of the emperor, I can't say that she is the 'last' royal daughter." Bondarev smiled.

　　"How do you prove yourself?" The Doctor asked.

　　"I saw Rasputin's signature at the end of the tunnel, and that heretic who had been canonized had been here before, so I should say he was the one who found this cave, right?"

　　"Yes." The Doctor said, "This cave is his legacy."

　　"Then you must know that Rasputin was a guest of the Tsar and a close friend of Princess Nastasia. The fact that I could find this place means that I have Rasputin's secrets, secrets that he told my great-grandmother. This is the proof of my status as the last royal grandson of the Romanov dynasty." Bondarev held his head up proudly.

　　"So, what were the secrets that Rasputin revealed to Her Imperial Highness?"

　　Bondarev smiled slyly: "I think there are certain things I know that you do not know, and of course there are things you know that I do not, so we might as well exchange information about each other. Then we might be able to sit down and talk about cooperation."

　　"After you." The Doctor raised his muzzle.

　　"This matter begins with my great-grandmother's escape. A Red Army bullet did go through her heart and her body was thrown into an abandoned mine, but three days later she awoke and the wound miraculously healed. It was then that she remembered what Rasputin had told her, that Rasputin said he was willing to share the secrets of the world with his great-grandmother because she, like himself, was God's chosen one. Like Rasputin, she had an unparalleled power of life and could even return from hell. She later married a Red Army officer, and in those days the only way she could gain refuge was to marry a Red Army officer. My great-grandfather, who later stepped into the high ranks of the military, was a very good man and always protected my great-grandmother from revealing her identity. Great-grandmother would sometimes wake up in a dream and shout, 'The Red Army is coming with guns,' and great-grandfather would reassure her, 'I am the Red Army, and as long as I live, the Red Army guns will only protect you.'"

　　"Touching love." The doctor said faintly.

　　"Great-grandmother decided to give up her past identity, so she rarely talked about the past of the Romanov dynasty, with the exception of one thing. She bade her great-grandfather that there were relics of God in the north of Siberia, which the saint Rasputin had told her about. That saint found the cave where God created life on the shore of the icy sea. But he did not announce it to the world, but sealed the miracle with iron water, because the miracle had degenerated into the cradle of the devil, and inside it were hidden fallen angels. Generations of our family descendants have to be on guard against the reopening of that cave, and the day it reopens, the end comes with it."

　　"So you are here to check if we are guarding the miracle properly?"

　　"No, no, my great-grandmother was a good and devout Orthodox Christian, but I am not. I have a great curiosity about everything, and after I inherited the secret, I am bent on finding the miracle. If I were to find it, I would definitely open it and take a look. Not long ago I found an engineering map from the ruined archives." Bondarev drew out the map roll and rolled it along the ice toward the Doctor, "It marks the elevator that leads deep into the tundra."

　　The Doctor scanned the map, "It's not the original map, someone drew it from memory."

　　"It was drawn by a madman who used to be the engineer battalion commander of the 13th Konrad Infantry Division and was ordered to participate in the excavation of the tunnel, after which he was brainwashed by drugs and became a regular in a mental hospital. All he remembered was that he was engaged in a big project on the northern coast of Siberia, and the project was to dig a cave. Suddenly I realized I had found a breakthrough. But as the investigation progressed, I found that the matter was becoming more and more mysterious. Many years ago, the army had built a port in the almost unnavigable northern part of Siberia, about which there was no information, and even the coordinates had been erased. Below that port, sappers had dug through the hard permafrost and opened a long-closed cave. So I decided to come and see for myself. As a KGB officer, I easily applied for a charter to investigate this mysterious port, so that I could drive in as the 'Minister of the Admiralty'. Sure enough, I found Rasputin's signature at the end of the passage, and I finally arrived at the place I had dreamed of since childhood." Bondarev looked around, "But it doesn't look like there's anything interesting here."

　　"I'm sure you noticed when you came here that the closer you got to the door where Rasputin signed, the more bones there were in the tundra, and they all crawled out through a gap in the rock wall. It was those things that Rasputin was talking about when he said this cave would breed demons. But now the cave is dead, and the mysterious forces in the cave have dissipated."

　　"I don't think so. If this cave was no longer valuable, you would have left long ago."

　　"If this cave was really valuable, I should have shot you and monopolized the secrets of this place."

　　"Wait a minute! I have brought you a gift! Won't you take a look at the gift before shooting?'' Bondarev took an envelope from inside his clothes and slid it along the ice toward the Doctor, by which he showed that he had absolutely no intention of resisting.

　　The doctor tore open the envelope, inside was a Swiss bank cashier's check - a cashier's check for $200 million.

　　"This is a rare and large check, what do you want to buy from me with this check?" 'Doc asked.

　　"Not a purchase, just a gift." Bondarev smiled, "We believe this gift will be useful to you. Your research has been going on for decades, consuming huge amounts of state funds every year, and it must not be finished yet, right? But now that the Soviet Union is about to split, your backers have fallen, which means you no longer have access to funding to complete your research, and no one to help you keep it secret."

　　"It does sound like I'm facing a lot of trouble." The doctor said.

　　"Then why not work with my family? We know politics, we know technology, and we know war, and we're willing to invest in this cave as long as its secrets pay off. We can continue to support you in this project and share with you all the benefits it brings. I have already shown my sincerity and told you everything I know. Shouldn't you also tell me what I don't know? After that you will still have time to shoot me."

　　"You are very calm, Comrade Major. You think I won't shoot you if you produce this $200 million cashier's check, don't you?" There was a hint of sarcasm in the Doctor's tone.

　　"There are not many people in the world who can refuse two hundred million dollars." Bondarev smiled, "And killing me wasn't the best option. If I do not return safely to Moscow, the family will know that something has happened to me, and they will not spare you. At that time the secret of Black Swan Harbor will be made known to the world."

　　"Ten times." The doctor threw the cashier's check back to Bondarev.

　　Bondarev froze: "What did you say?"

　　"Your family needs to increase the bid tenfold. I need three years and two billion dollars to complete this research. At that time we will share the whole world."

　　"That amount is beyond my expectations and not easy to raise even for my family."

　　The Doctor laughed coldly: "It seems you really don't know the secret of this cave, in front of which two billion dollars is too small a figure, what is here no one can afford, it is priceless! Your family should be proud to offer this two billion dollars."

　　"Everything has a price, weapons, women, secrets, even souls." Bondarev said.

　　"But who can put a price on God?" The Doctor asked.

-------

The Lenin's mooring is only 40 kilometers from Black Swan Harbor, and they will be here soon. This new flare is so great that American spy satellites will recognize it as an aurora borealis." Bondarev said.

　　"You had said that the Lenin would not come." The doctor said.

　　"Moscow is not prepared to send the Lenin to Black Swan Harbo, but we can, and now the Lenin is at my family's beck and call."

　　Black shadows rose above the sea level, the roar of a giant bee on its wings approaching at high speed, snow dust twisted into a tornado by the helicopter's rotors, red five stars flashing in the white tornado. It was the "MiG 26" heavy helicopter, codenamed "Halo", one of the pride of the Soviet military industry. The helicopter hovered over the cast iron dock, the searchlights broke through the haze of the night, the hatch opened, and five captains lined up, saluting Bondarev. The communication lights below the belly of the plane blinked up, signaling greetings to Bondarev in Morse code.

　　"Glad to see you're safe and sound, Your Imperial Highness!" The doctor read out the greeting.

　　The fact that they called Bondarev "His Imperial Highness" instead of "comrade" meant that the helicopter and the Lenin on the icy sea were no longer loyal to the Soviet Union, but to the heir to the Romanov dynasty. The name Romanov is about to shine again after almost a century of obliteration in history, and with the power of the Dragons, it is not impossible for them to re-establish hegemony on Earth.

　　Bondarev handed a letter to the Doctor: "This is a letter I wrote to the family, please read it."

　　The Doctor scanned it and handed the letter back to Bondarev.

　　"If things go well, we will be able to relocate within a few weeks." Bondarev handed the letter to a captain who descended down the zip line, "We will build you a brand new research base in the warm and pleasant Baltic Sea, along with a vacation villa."

　　The captain placed a mouthful of boxes at the doctor's feet, containing a case of aged Red Label vodka.

　　"A small gift, so you don't have to worry about running out of booze until we leave Black Swan Harbor." Bondarev said.

　　"I guess I picked the right partner." The Doctor smiled.

***** HE VERY STRONG AND CAPABLE ***********

Bondarev looked alert, his muscles bulging under his uniform. He was a highly trained soldier, capable of breaking a wolf's neck with his bare hands, and had no need to fear this delicate boy, but not daring to take it lightly in the presence of something supernatural, he adjusted himself to a state of immediate danger.

------

Bondarev noticed a transparent figure flashed from his side. It was just a short blink of an eye, a fraction of a second, but Bondarev was trained to the rigors of the KGB and he was absolutely certain it was a person!

-------- IS A HYBRID THAT HAS NO ISSUE KILLING PEOPLE, INCLUDING KIDS ------------

The lieutenant on duty in the boiler room collapsed on the duty desk, a bottle of Red Label vodka still in his hand. A steel-core bullet had penetrated his heart, and Bondarev stood behind the lieutenant with his Makolov pistol.

---

At that moment the doctor heard the wind change behind his head, and the beam of the searchlight struck him. He turned sharply and saw huge black shadows hovering in the air, their rotor blades churning the snow into a flurry. It was Halo, the heavy helicopter from the Lenin, which had ventured to Black Swan Harbor in such bad weather.

　　"Didn't you say Halo couldn't fly in a snowstorm of this magnitude?" The Doctor froze. Something hard pressed against his back, it was Bondarev's Makarov pistol. One by one, the steel-core bullets pierced the Doctor's chest, tearing the aging heart into a million pieces. The Doctor spat out a mouthful of blood, mixed with fragments of his lungs, which had been destroyed in the process. He braced himself and turned his face to look at Bondarev, his eyes filled with shock.

　　"You can't complete the research without me ......," he hissed.

　　"We didn't even try to finish your research." Bondarev's pupils swirled with a gorgeous gold.

　　"Who the hell ...... are you?"

　　Bondarev held the Doctor in place and injected him with adrenaline using an air needle, "Hold on one more minute for the most magnificent scene."

　　The Black Swan Harbor suddenly trembled up tremendously, the sound of a series of explosions spread upward from the ground, but it was not a vacuum bomb detonated in advance, if it was a vacuum bomb, a square kilometer around would be leveled to the ground. A fire rose, and countless pieces of frozen earth spilled onto the frozen sea.

　　"Engineering explosive mines?" The Doctor asked in a hiss.

　　"The new engineering burst mines, even 10,000 years of permafrost, as long as the right eye is chiseled can be blown up. Now in a place you can't see, there is a huge hole with a depth of 180 meters, leading to Rasputin's cave, where we will use the laser to cut through the ice and take away the precious collection that originally belonged to you." Bondarev said, "You have been isolated from the outside world for too long to know the progress of engineering, it is no longer difficult to cut through the tundra in an instant today, once I probe its location."

　　"You ...... want to take that dragon!" The Doctor understood.

　　"Yes," Bondarev replaced the magazine, walked over to the sled, and fired four bullets into the chests of each of the four children.

　　The children died without a struggle from the potent hypnotic drug. It was pure carnage.

　　"You are not the only one who is willing to sacrifice human lives for a great cause." Bondarev pressed his chest in silence for the children he had just killed, looking reverent.

#Dragon Raja #Lore Post #Major Bondarev

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shadoedseptmbr · 4 years ago

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meet cute pt 4

Only a week or two *cough* late. lol the final part of Meet Cute, in honor of MELE!

All Aboard the Normandy SR1

Pt. 1 Anderson

Pt. 2. Joker

Pt. 3. Chakwas

Part Four: Kaidan Alenko

Kaidan isn’t aboard his new ship long enough to find his locker before the doctor has him under her scanner.

He’s used to it. Most of the medical branch falls into three categories for him, either they think he’s some sort of monster they want to dissect in their labs or they think he needs coddling. He prefers the ones like this one.

“I just want a baseline, Lieutenant. To run comparisons in case of injuries or later concerns.”

She never even mentions the implant, other than a slight tsk over the scarring just visible under his hairline. He’s pretty sure it’s just professional disdain for his surgeon’s workmanlike handiwork, though.

Their omnis ping at the same time and Chakwas shakes her head. “Our presence is requested, Lieutenant. I suppose we’ll have time to stow all this away once we’re off.”

“Have you served with Captain Anderson before, ma’am?” He holds the door for her to enter the lift, first.

Chakwas has a warm smile, it probably serves her well in her bedside manner. “Yes, several times and with Engineer Adams and Nav Officer Pressly. Anderson has a certain style of command and he’s found himself a crew that suits it. He’s earned the right, I would think.”

He has to ask, “And what about the XO?”

“Shepard? No, never served with her, though she has popped up in our wake a few times. Have you?”

“No. She was stationed on the Tokyo but she transferred off right before I came aboard.” He had, in fact, peeled her nametape off the locker he’d been assigned. And maybe he’d listened to the stories the crew had told about her. Hard not to listen to stories.

The one they told the most was how she’d just vanished -no goodbyes- at a fueling station on the edge of the Terminus system after a month of almost being part of the crew. Pretty standard for N7’s, the captain had assured them. Orders from HQ and a freighter headed the right direction.

Kaidan holds the door for Dr. Chakwas and follows her out of the lift when they arrive at the CIC, Joker still running his checklists as they exit. Guess he gets to miss the handshaking.

The rest of the Normandy’s command is waiting at the base of the gangway. Kaidan’s been to one or two of these launches, but this time there’s no band or families waving them off.

A few official looking people- humans and turians, mostly- are scattered to the edge of the dock. Pressly, who he’d met earlier, holding the scanner and checking the credentials of the steady stream of boarding crew. Captain Anderson, familiar from vids, towers over most of the humans and a couple of the turians.

There’s someone at Anderson’s elbow, in crisp BDU’s. He can only see her straight back and the curve of her shaved head. The XO, if he has to hazard a guess. Hero of the Blitz, N7, all of the legends in one uniform.

Though...hunh.

He thought Shepard was taller.

Maybe this is a yeoman?

The woman turns her head slightly and the scar curving under her right eye -familiar from the vids and even a recruiting poster or two- stands out.

He remembers Nera telling him once that she’d shared a cup of coffee with Shepard, not long after Elysium. On a night watch when Nera was still getting used to it on a ship full of Marines headed back to Arcturus. “She laughs pretty easy for a hero,” Nera had told him. “I guess I expected her to be...colder.”

Kaidan snaps out of his musing into a salute as Anderson’s head turns in his direction. “Lieutenant Alenko!”

“Sir!”

“Glad to have you with us, Kaidan. I know Captain Helcik was pushing it to get you turned around to us.” Anderson reaches out a large, broad hand.

Kaidan grasps it, gets firm shake and only the slightest hesitation at the buzz of his field. “I’m glad to have made it, Captain.”

“This is Commander Aedan Shepard, our XO.”

“Commander.”

“Lieutenant.” He has to blink at the direct onslaught of a frank, appraising stare from a pair of neatly lined steel grey eyes. A faint smile, not particularly friendly. But she offers her hand.

And doesn’t flinch at the slight pop of static between them, when he takes it. Her palm is cool and rough against his, for just a moment.

He drags his attention back to the captain as Anderson continues, “You come from a good ship. I commanded the Tokyo before Helcik. She recommends you with...some pretty high praise.”

“I appreciate hearing that, sir. I hope to do as well here.”

“Well, your record and your commendations spoke well of you. And your abilities are…”

He’s trying not to be distracted by Shepard’s continued, cool eyed assessment but he isn’t sure that distracting him isn’t the point, just to see if she can.

Anderson seems to have a pretty friendly style of command.

Maybe Shepard is the steel in all that velvet.

She catches him glancing at her while Anderson is still talking and lifts one, slanting red eyebrow in a question. Or a challenge. He cuts his eyes back to the captain, but he’d swear there was a trace of a satisfied smirk at the corner of her mouth.

And then her eyes shift and targetlock on something...someone else and he realizes that he only thought she’d been looking at him coldly. She shifts...her shoulders, her chin? He isn’t sure. But Kaidan has to physically stop himself from throwing up a barrier in reaction.

He follows her gaze and the sight makes him square up, instinctively.

“Captain Anderson? We have a...guest.” Her low voice is respectful but laced with warning and it says something about how the captain thinks of her, how fast he reacts. Anderson immediately turns toward the armed turian approaching them in red and black armor, the pale markings stark on his dark skin as the crowd parts, whispering.

Under his breath, Anderson murmurs, “Stand down, Shepard. He’s expected.” Louder, he calls out, “Nihlus! Glad you could make it.”

Shepard grunts an acknowledgment and her expression shifts from guarded to interested. Still, when Anderson advances she’s in lock step at his left flank. Kaidan -almost on reflex- moves to the opposite elbow and matches her step.

Despite the captain’s order to relax, there’s an energy about her. An intensity.

Kaidan isn’t sure why- but it’s catching.

The turian scans them with bright green eyes and then nods. “Captain Anderson.” There’s a warm vibrato to his voice. His attention goes immediately to Shepard, dismissing Kaidan entirely.

Well. That’s new. Usually, aliens lock on a biotic human as an oddity.

Shepard, for her part, is returning the regard, hands behind her back in a deceptively at ease posture. She isn’t armed. At least, he can’t see anything. Not the way this Nihlus practically bristles with weaponry.

Anderson introduces Shepard and then Kaidan to “Council SPECTRE, Nihlus Kryik. He’ll be coming with us on the shakedown.”

That’s all he says. Kaidan turns to Shepard as the captain introduces the SPECTRE to a minister who’s come to see them off.

He catches just the hint of blank shock before her face clears but she meets his look. And lifts her eyebrows in a clear question.

Kaidan shakes his head. Yeah, he has no idea why a Council SPECTRE would be cruising with them. She scowls and tips her head and they fall back into place at Anderson’s back.

Nihlus dismisses the minister with fairly diplomatic speed and turns back to Shepard. “I would like a tour of the ship, if you don’t mind, Commander.”

“Of course, SPECTRE Kryik.”

“Just Nihlus. The SPECTRES don’t stand on all of the formality of the Hierarchy or the Systems Alliance.”

“As you like.” Kaidan has to be imagining the way Anderson glares at Shepard from beside Nihlus. But she follows it up after a short hesitation with a crisp, “Please, just call me Shepard.”

“Family names are last for humans, as I recall. So many similarities in our cultures.”

“On some levels.”

The turians mandibles shift before he adds, “But I understand you don’t know your family.” Okay, seriously, what the hell is up with this guy?

The smile she flashes is bright and cheerful and doesn’t get anywhere near her eyes. “No, I do not. I would love to start that tour, anytime you’re ready. If you don’t need us, sir.” There’s an emphasis on that last word that Kaidan thinks is important. And Anderson clears his throat like she’d said something rude.

“Hm. Yes. Go on. We’ll want you on the bridge for launch, Shepard.”

“Yes, sir.” There it is again. Anderson just shakes his head as she courteously waves Nihlus in front of her.

“Lieutenant, you can be my second for the rest of the festivities.”

“Of course, sir.” Anderson sighs and goes back to chatting with the dignitaries and Kaidan takes the chance to glance back at Shepard who is gazing out briefly over their heads from the top of the gangway as Nihlus navigates the door. Her eyes out on the stars beyond the dock’s shimmer of shielding. For just a second, the smile is real and eager. She leans up on her toes, towards the open sky. And then she shuts it all down and, blank faced, follows the SPECTRE back into the ship, her fingers trailing along in a caress of the gleaming hull, the last thing Kaidan sees.

#sept writes #meet cute #kaidan alenko #nihlus kryik #all aboard the sr1

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helenofsimblr · 4 years ago

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Narrator: It was a particularly hot day at Oasis Springs. Not that any day isn’t really… And the Space branch of the District Intelligence Agency was quite the flutter…It isn’t often high falutin political figures come here, as you know they want to keep these places a bit secret and innocuous and all that. Can’t really do that when the Minister of Military is popping by for a visit.

***

Sanjay walked into the General’s office and stood bolt upright saluting.

Sanjay: You wanted to see me sir?

General Viery: That’s right, at ease, take a seat Captain Kapoor we got a few things to discuss concerning the Agency.

Sanjay: Yes sir.

General: How’s your wedding planning going Captain?

Sanjay: Well sir. Amara is taking care of everything.

General: That's for the best. Mrs Viery didn’t let me do a damn thing with our wedding. I can run a multi billion dollar Intelligence Branch but… ask me how to arrange it to seat Aunt Wendy who is fighting with Aunt Mandy who in turn has quarrelled with Uncle Herman, who also doesn’t get on with Uncle Johnathan who is sat next to Aunt Wendy, is a logistical nightmare that I want no part of. And not inviting those motherfuckers isn’t an option apparently...

***

General: So by now you probably heard the Minister of Military is planning to come here, with the sole intention of taking Bob Robinson’s seemingly brain dead body. I’ve done all I can submitted paperwork, damn near committed career suicide, but I can’t hold em off anymore.

Sanjay: It's a medical miracle that Guy was even able to get Bob’s body stable. The best doctors here couldn’t manage that. Pretty astonishing for an 18 year old kid….

General: I’ll say, that boy is a prodigy no doubt, one in a generation mind. But It wasn’t all sunshine and lollipops though, from what Dr Ellen says the Isotope 9 in his blood has thinned out, even if he did wake up he’d be a little weaker than he was before.

Sanjay: I presume they want Bob’s body for research purposes, find out what makes it tick.

General: I expect so… But that isn’t our only problem.

#ts4 #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 story #The Tomorrow Men #KSU #General Viery #Sanjay #tw swearing #tw bad language

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years ago

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“His decided manner roused my suspicions”

[The interrogation of Friedrich Staps by Napoleon following his attempt to assassinate the Emperor]

On 17 October 1809, an eighteen-year-old German university student named Friedrich Staps was executed by firing squad after having attempted to assassinate Napoleon at Schönbrunn palace. General Rapp, whose timely intervention almost certainly saved Napoleon’s life, relates the episode in his memoirs (though the dates he provides are off--the assassination attempt occurred on the 12th and the execution on the 17th, not the 23rd and 27th):

A young man, instigated by a blind feeling of patriotism, formed the design of delivering his country from him whom he regarded as the cause of its misfortunes. He presented himself at Schoenbrunn on the 23d October, while the troops were defiling: I was on duty; Napoleon was standing between the Prince de Neufchatel and me. The young man, who was named St. * * *, advanced to the Emperor. Berthier, conceiving that he was about to present a petition, stepped forward and told him to deliver it to me. He replied that he wished to speak to Napoleon; but he was again told, that if he had any communication to make, he must apply to the aide-de-camp on duty. He withdrew to a short distance, repeating that he would speak with Napoleon only. He came forward again, and approached very near the person of the Emperor. I drew him back and told him in German that he must withdraw: that if he had any thing to solicit, he would be heard after the parade. His right hand was thrust into a side-pocket under his great-coat, and he held a paper, one end of which was visible. I was struck with the expression of his eyes when he looked at me: his decided manner roused my suspicions. I called to an officer of gendarmerie who was on the spot, and ordered him to be put under arrest and conducted to the Castle. The attention of every one present was so occupied with the parade, that nobody noticed what was going forward. I was soon after informed that a large carving knife had been found on St. * * *. I told Duroc what I had learnt, and we went together to the place to which he had been conducted. We found him sitting on a bed, on which were laid the portrait of a young female, a portfolio, and a purse containing a few old louis-d'or. I asked his name.—"I can tell it only to Napoleon," was his reply.—"What did you intend to do with the knife that was found upon you?"—"That I can tell only to Napoleon."—"Did you propose to assassinate him?"—"Yes, Sir."—"Why?"—"That I can tell only to him."

I went to communicate this singular circumstance to the Emperor. He desired that the young man might be conducted to his closet. I went out to give this order; and on my return I found Bernadotte, Berthier, Savary, and Duroc, with the Emperor. St. * * * was brought in by two gendarmes, with his hands tied behind him. He appeared perfectly composed. The presence of Napoleon made not the least impression on him, but he saluted him respectfully. The Emperor asked him whether he could speak French, and he replied in a firm tone: "Very little." Napoleon then directed me to ask him, in his name, the following questions:—

"Where were you born?"—"In Naumburgh."—"What is your father?"—"A protestant minister."—"How old are you?"—"I am eighteen years of age."—"What did you intend to do with the knife?"—"To kill you."—"You are mad, young man; you are an illuminato."—"I am not mad; and I know not what is meant by an illuminato."—"You are sick, then."—"I am not sick; on the contrary, I am in good health."—"Why did you wish to assassinate me?"—"Because you have caused the misfortunes of my country."—"Have I done you any harm?"—"You have done harm to me as well as to all Germans."—"By whom were you sent? Who instigated you to this crime?"—"Nobody. I determined to take your life, from the conviction that I should thereby render the highest service to my country and to Europe."—"Is this the first time you ever saw me?"—"I saw you at Erfurt at the time of the interview."—"Did you then intend to assassinate me?"—"No; I thought that you would no longer wage war in Germany; I was then one of your most ardent admirers."—"How long have you been in Vienna?"—"Ten days."—"Why did you so long defer the execution of your design?"—"I came to Schoenbrunn a week ago; but the parade was over when I arrived, and I postponed the execution of my design until this day."—"I tell you, you are either mad or sick."—"Neither the one nor the other."—"Desire Corvisart to come here."—"Who is Corvisart?"—"He is a physician," I replied. "I have no need of him." We remained silent until the doctor arrived. St. * * * evinced the utmost indifference. At length Corvisart made his appearance. Napoleon directed him to feel the young man's pulse. "Am I not quite well, Sir?"—"He is in very good health," said the doctor, addressing himself to the Emperor.—"I told you so," said St. * * *, with an air of satisfaction.

Napoleon was embarrassed by the unconcerned manner of the offender.

"You are a wild enthusiast," said he; "you will ruin your family. I am willing to grant your life, if you ask pardon for the crime which you intended to commit, and for which you ought to be sorry."—"I want no pardon," replied St. * * *, "I feel the deepest regret for not having executed my design."—"You seem to think very lightly of the commission of a crime!"—"To kill you would not have been a crime, but a duty."—"Whose portrait is that that was found upon you?"—"It is the portrait of a young lady to whom I am attached."—"She will be very much distressed to hear of the unhappy situation in which you are placed!"—"She will regret to hear that I have not succeeded. She detests you no less than I do."—"Would you not be grateful were I to pardon you?"—"I would notwithstanding seize the first opportunity of taking your life."

Staps was shot at 7 o’clock in the morning on 17 October. His last words were “Love live Germany; death to the tyrant!”

Source: Memoirs of General Count Rapp, 1823, pages 141-146.

#Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Jean Rapp #Memoirs of General Rapp #memoirs #19th century #today in history

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cxptain-rex · 5 years ago

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Scrosciare {Commander Colt}

pairing: commander colt x medic!reader

warnings: colt ain’t dead b*tches

This was requested by @catchmewiththelosers! I got so inspire writing this. I love Colt so much ok? Ok. I hope that you like it. This has been an amazing request and it’s beautiful! Enjoy! XX

***

scrosciare - the action of rain pouring down or of waves hitting rocks and cliffs

***

The grey sky screamed with thunder and lighting as it poured heavily upon the planet of Kamino. The clouds gave in to spill the cold water upon the clone facility. The cold rain manage to soak your uniform as you ran from the ship into the hangar. The stormy weather of Kamino always manages to bring you comfort whenever you come to the planet .

Today is no different than the rest. You stand on the hangar watching the droplets of water fall against the deck floor. The transport which has dropped you, leaves the hangar. The remains of battle still burning around the kaminoan facility. You have been called to aid the remaining troops which have fought in the Battle of Kamino.

“Doctor Y/L/N, it is a pleasure to have your company here once again” Lama Su greets you coming to stop infront of you. By him stands Jedi Master Shaak Ti whom bows to you in form of greeting. “Prime Minister, Master Jedi, it is an honor to be here” you say showing courtesy at the two figures of power in front of you.

“If you please, could come with us” encourages Lama Su and you follow falling in step with the Prime Minister and the Master Jedi. “The attack seemed to have done its blow” you muster making conversation with Shaak Ti. She nods softly, in a calming manner which inspires you aswell to feel at ease. “Yes, but our clones managed to stop the Separatist forces right on time” she answers and you feel pride swell in you.

The clones are manufactured for battle yet you always seem to have a soft spot for them. When you had been inform of your presence being needed in Kamino, you left the capital city of Coruscant and took a clone transport to the aquatic planet. Lama Su and Shaak Ti led you to the medic bay. It is erratic as you watch the clone medics rush around trying to help the troopers fighting for their lives.

The medic instincts in you kicked in. Excusing yourself from the Prime Minister you found the clone medic, Kix. “What can I do for you?” You asked receiving a salute from Kix. “Y/N! You’re here thank the maker! Please, check on Commander Colt” he refrained putting a bacta gauze on a clone trooper.

You rushed to a secluded side of the bay, spotting the commander laying on a bed. He clutched his abdomen, you spotted the lightsaber punctured. “Commander, it’s Y/N, let me help” you spoke stripping the Clone Commander off his armor and leaving him on his greys. He groans as you check the wound.

“You’ll live” you mumble joisting the commander to take him into a bacta tank. The hole in his chest blisters, you put a Bacta gauze on it. The commander struggles against your hold.

“I need some help in here!” You called, Kix arrived quickly helping you take the commander into a tank. The Commander now prep and ready floats in a bacta tank for the remaining of the night.

“What happened to him?” You ask, your gaze never leaving the crystal. He looks peaceful, the stress lines in his face fading to nothing as the bacta takes its time to work.

“Apparently Ventress managed to get to him” Kix says checking his datapad. You turn towards the medic clone, your eyebrows arching in a questioning manner. “It’s a miracle that he’s alive, Echo and Fives found him” assures the medic as he strode out of the room. You stand in front of the tank, staring at the commander.

You cannot deny the fear of thinking about his experience with that vile woman. In fact you felt your insides twist in a sickly way as you sat down, thinking about the Commander and how he managed to get away with his life hanging by a thread.

***

Days have passed since you arrived. The Kaminoan sea rages against the cloning facility as the rain ripples through the sky. You watch the darken horizon as some transports leave and come to the facility. You aren’t suppose to leave until a few more days, until now you have enjoyed your stay in the facility. Aside from helping out in the medbay you managed to sneak into the 501st barrack.

The battalion had welcomed you with open arms since you took care of every beaten soldier within their ranks. So far you have won your place in their lives. You spent the day in the barracks and the nights on a chair in the Commander’s room. You watch over him each evening in case he wakes up.

Today is no different, you finish saying goodbye to the 501st boys. “We hope to see you soon, Y/N!” Jesse barked as the rest of the boys laughed in unison. You smile at their antics as you make your way to the medbay.

Shaak Ti comms you, “Y/N, Commander Colt is awake” she announces. “Thank you, Shaak Ti” you thank picking up your pace towards the medbay. As soon you arrive Kix is draining Colt’s tank. You watch as he struggles until the tank is dry.

You grab a towel and wrap it around him, the cold blistering his lips as he puffs out air. “Commander, you’re safe” you reassure guiding him to the bed. The white sheets contrast against his tanned skin. You can’t help but let your eyes rack against his toned abdomen. A scar swirls now on his abs when a gaping hole stretched a couple of days ago.

“Doctor?” He questions blinking and taking in his surroundings. “It’s Y/N, Commander” you answer pulling up his bedsheets.

“Colt” he mumbles and you turn your gaze from the datapad in your hands. You meet his honey eyes, warm and gentle as always. A soft smile edges on your facial features. The Commander racked his eyes on your form. He always remembers whenever you came to treat the cadets. Now here you are, treating him.

“Thanks doc” he says causing you to giggle. That adorable sound you just made strikes him in the heart. Maker forbid him to fall more for you. “It’s Y/N, Colt and what for?” you ask meeting the trooper’s gaze.

Suddenly Colt feels heat rise to his cheeks, perhaps it’s the cold. No it’s not the cold, it’s you. He stammers over his words resolving to play with the bed sheet. “For taking care of me” he answers loud enough for you to hear. You intake a sharp breath, looking around the room.

As you put your thoughts in order you part your lips. “It’s my duty and I will always be here to take care of you, sir. I value your lives more than anything else and that is why I take caution whenever I come to check on the clones. I may not be out in the battlefield but you can be sure as hell that I will do anything to keep you safe” you say lifting your gaze from the white floor to meet the glazed eyes of the Commander.

The commander and the medic stared at each other. Even if the medic did not acknowledge it, Colt fell in love harder. You though, you have no idea of the Commander reciprocating those feelings that you have brew since the first time that you met him.

***

The day arrived for you to part from the cloning facility with the 501st battalion. You are being transferred to their ranks for a good amount of time. The order came in some days ago, you already had discharged the Commander.

You haven’t had the guts to tell him that you’re leaving. You just can’t bring yourself to leave him once again.

Now you stand on the hangar deck, basking in the rain droplets that kiss your face. Kamino will always feel like home to you, not for its facility but for its rainy weather and for the unspeakable bond between you and the Commander. You never speak about it but you can feel it. It’s the force or something, you recall from Master Shaak Ti.

Colt watches you from the main door of the hangar. He knows that you’re leaving, he heard the 501st boys talking about how their medic would be joining them in their next deployment. His heart skipped a beat when he heard that, Colt frowned upon the thought of you leaving the facility without saying goodbye.

He advances towards your soaking form, he always finds you soaking in the rain. Colt stands now by your side watching the rain. You smile softly feeling his presence. You do not need to look to know that it is him.

“I love being here, the weather is calming” you speak towards him. The rain has always fascinated you, he seemed to take notice on that since you came to the planet. “You’re leaving” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear. You sigh, turning to meet his gaze. Even with his helmet on you can feel his eyes on you.

“I have to” you remind folding your hands together. Water drips from your hair and into your cheeks. Colt raises a gloved hand to clean them. Along that movement he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. You lean into his touch softly, the warmth of his hand comforting you.

“Colt”

“Let me speak, please” the Commander begs his hand never leaving your face.

“Each time that I see you, it's as if space and time become the finest point imaginable, as if time suddenly stops. It's as if the galaxy begins and ends with you. I could run forever, search forever, but in the end, every path leads right back to your heart and soul. This war means nothing to me if you won’t be with me on the other side” he says tugging off his helmet to look at your Y/C eyes.

“Oh Colt” you mumble softly sniffling as fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I-I love you” you whisper wrapping your arms around the man you’ve grown to love. “I love you too, cyar’ika” he replies enveloping you in a warm embrace.

When he looked at you it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from your lungs floating into the air like water falling from the sky. Streamfull and clear. Now you see it and you adore it. You adore him. This is what falling in love feels like, you thought basking in his arms.

Time slows as you pull away to meet the eyes of the man you love. You need to look at him one more time, to make your mind take a photograph of the moment. A photograph that will help you through tough times.

The rainstorm whips around you, your expression is one of tenderness matching Colt’s. Something warm and sweet envelops your lips, his lips. Colt kisses the droplets from your kiss molding his against yours in a perfect shape.

The rain runs down your faces to where your lips meet, each of you tasting the cold drops. Instead of detracting from the intensity of the moment it brings you and Colt to new heights. Colt pushes his lips in more firmly and the wave that runs through you is intoxicating, making your head swim as you pull back to take in his beautiful face.

“I love you, Colt”

“I love you, ik'aad”

***

Ah ok I’m crying. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did! Seriously I love it! Reblog for more content! I appreciate that you guys share my content. I work hard for this request! Thank you guys! <3

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cynicalclassicist · 4 years ago

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Education, Education, Education

Set between The Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords

Written by FELIX O’KELLY

The Year that Never Was

The Valiant

The Master sat in the Valiant, looking out across the world he ruled supreme. He smiled. Construction on the ships were on schedule. His remodelling of the Lincoln Memorial had gone well, despite some resistance his forces had entered the Capitol and established his rule. Construction at Rushmore was going perfectly, after he’d had a few public executions. There had been a few rebellions in Scotland, helped by friends of the previous Prime Minister, but a short sharp shock had put those down. Despite that trouble with the Loch Ness Monster. The Norwegian resistance was giving him some trouble, spray-painting Quislings onto the local security offices and disappearing into the woods. But the woods were being chopped down to fuel his industry and soon there would be nowhere left to hide.

And meanwhile, as Earth groaned under his rule, he ripped it up, its plains, its valleys, opening its hills with spacious wounds, digging out masses of minerals to fuel his fleet. The Earth Reptile bases occasionally found as the Earth was torn apart were an utter joy. The Master could sometimes get so tired of only oppressing humans, killing a few Earth Reptiles could add real spice to otherwise dull weeks. Sometimes they even made good slaves! And some new weapons for his fleet as well…

The Master glanced at a map of his world. The Doctor did like those lovely crinkly edges of Norway. Maybe it was time for a bit of remodelling.

There was a cough behind him, and he turned. “And what can I do for you!”

Captain Ironside, who the Master had given the role to partially because he liked the name, saluted. “Master. We’ve brought him.”

“Splendid!” smiled the Master. He glided gleefully down the rail as a figure was dragged in, beaten and bloody.

“Nicholas Clough, I presume!” said the Master.

He recognised the man of course. Nicholas Clough had been one of the rising stars of politics only recently, being promoted to Education Secretary by Harriet Jones. Yet when the fall of Harriet Jones happened, he had left the Cabinet with her. In the election in which Harold Saxon had finally risen to Prime Minister, Clough had announced he was stepping down as MP for Hazelhurst East, a position he had held since the 9th of April 1992. It was the first time Saxon had seen him since then.

The man looked up, through a black eye. “Saxon.”

“Oh, that was the name I used, but you know I am the Master!” sneered the Time Lord. He whipped out his laser screwdriver at which the guards stepped back. But the Master laughed. “Not yet! Haven’t had a good chin-wag since I had that Shaw brought here. Though she was a tad disappointing… not even killing her was exciting.” He turned and grinned horribly at the Doctor, who sat there in his wheelchair. “But the look on your face made it all worthwhile! Just like when I told you about Miss Grant and the grandchildren she… had.”

The Doctor’s face burned with hatred at this.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” asked Nicholas.

The man he had known as Harold Saxon pirouetted round like a ballerina. “Well, you have been spreading some very hurtful things about me” he replied. “And I heard that you met a certain… Martha.” He savoured the word a moment, then spat it out, trying to stay composed.

Nicholas smiled. “Yes. We talked a bit about the Doctor. I’d been wondering who that fellow was ever since Harriet Jones made that broadcast on Christmas.”

“Well, here he is!” The Master pulled the Doctor out of the wheelchair. “Here you are, Mr Clough! Here is the wonderful Doctor!” He flung him back in, the Doctor remaining silent, with the aura of one used to this humiliation.

Nicholas looked worried but composed himself. “Well, there are plenty who resist you still.”

“Yes… Harriet is proving a bit elusive herself” said the Master, his face turning ugly again. “But of course, you were close to her!”

“I left when she did,” replied Nicholas.

“Loyalty… an unusual trait in a politician” replied Saxon. “I should know! Plenty were happy to flock to my banner!” He laughed. “Remember that loathsome Oscar Sudders? Harriet’s Health Secretary? Jumped at the chance to become my Defence Secretary! And that idiot from Richfield South. And of course, the old fool Dumfries! The look on their faces when I made the reshuffle…”

“I’m certainly glad I didn’t take the chance to be your Education Secretary!” said Nicholas.

“So much for wanting to educate!” laughed the Master. “I know how much you politicians talk about education, education, education!”

“Well, I was leaving politics anyway,” said Nicholas. “And I am happy to keep educating people.”

“Oh, what would you need to educate them about!” asked the Master. He pointed upwards. “I have my network, broadcasting the right ideas into their minds! I even have a few loudspeakers set up if I want to give a message!”

He pushed some buttons as if playing a piano, pulled a lever and yelled down the receiver. “PEOPLES OF EARTH! THIS IS YOUR MASTER! JUST TESTING!” He smiled at Nicholas. “It’s 1:15 in that part of the world, it should make the people jump!” He gave a laugh. “Not that it’s too dissimilar to many politicians in the days before my rule, this sort of propaganda! The sheer amount of awful Parties I had to go to to get Ru…” He paused and looked sullen at this memory, then brightened.

“But enough of that! I recall a piece you wrote about me, just before the election! It was called Why I will not be voting Saxon!”

“I think there are a lot of people who regret voting for you now” replied Nicholas.

“Well they should have thought of that beforehand. Not that they ever read your magnum opus. It got pulled due to a word from his Lordship the Paper’s owner, but he was kind enough to send me a copy!”

Like a conjurer the Master produced a paper. He smirked at the Doctor. “I’ve been teaching myself magic! I recall you liked those when you were that little man with the umbrella! Travelling with that… what was it… Dorothy?”

“Ace” said the Doctor. “Her name was Ace.”

“Oh yes! Ace! I remember telling you about her last stand with the Nitro-9… excellent chemical, I’m bottling a bit of it myself for a rainy day! Where was I… ah, the article!”

The Master began reading.

“Let’s see… Clough calls me the most dangerous man in Britain.”

“I was too kind, you’re the most dangerous man in the world” replied Nicholas.

“Oh, still too kind, the Universe!” The Master continued. “Brings up… oh yes, that little car accident which meant I just happened to be elected an MP! Poor old Charles Lichen!” He chuckled horribly. “Talks about dubious businessmen… Well, Salamander is doing some good work for me. And Van Statten’s collection has all sorts of lovely weapons for mass-production!” He commenced skimming the article. “Badmouths me, surprisingly nice about the Shadow Attorney General, badmouths Brian Green… Brings up Lazarus…” The Master was practically blushing as he read of his sinister deeds and scheming. “You’re too kind! I almost wish I could give you a job!”

“Well there will always be people like me, ready to educate against people like you!” said Nicholas. “And that’s what Martha is doing! Giving people hope!”

“Your pathetic people haven’t got a hope!” spat the Master.

“Doesn’t matter how many times you say that, it doesn’t make it true!” replied Nicholas, standing defiantly. “I kept telling people what Martha told me and I’m happy to have done so!”

A smile formed on the Doctor’s face, the first proper one in weeks. The Master glanced around, and his eyes narrowed. He turned back to Nicholas.

“Perhaps.” He took out his laser screwdriver and fired it, blasting Clough to the ground.

“Leave it wherever you found it,” he laughed to Ironside. “I’ll tell the people it’s an education!”

“You didn’t need to do that” said the Doctor angrily.

“No. But it’s fun!”

The Master turned to his transmitters. “Peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully.” He winked at the Doctor. “I always love saying that.” He continued. “I had a meeting with Nicholas Clough. A most educating experience. Just thought I’d let Miss Jones know that! And that I look forward to meeting her!”

But far away Martha continued telling her stories, telling the people of someone who fought against evil. Of giant crabs, of Daleks, of atmosphere-cleaning whales intended to destroy humanity, time-travelling assassins and more. And eventually the stories she told grew in the minds of the people and ended the tyranny of the Master.

And on that day, time snapped back a year. The Toclafane decimation vanished and few remembered the rule of the Master. Instead they watched as the Prime Minister was shot and died.

But they moved on and life went on. The papers about Saxon were covered up by the Lord High Chancellor Brian Green, including Clough’s Why I will not be Voting Saxon, citing security concerns.

Though with plenty more troubles and tricksters like the Master the world was not yet safe…

28th February 2021

England

Nicholas Clough glanced at his article, Why I will not be voting Saxon, written all those years ago. After some lobbying, he had finally been able to get it released for the memoirs he was writing, probably helped by the fact Brian Green was no longer in Parliament. Not many people seemed interested now in history. He sometimes wondered if the country would ever learn, especially as they kept making the same mistakes, falling for the same tricks. Not just in this country even!

But he had to keep trying. And maybe, one day, people would learn. Maybe they would see through the lies that the powerful told. Where there was life, there was hope. Even in the darkest of times.

#doctor who lockdown #fanfic #doctor who

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0vorenation0 · 5 years ago

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The Island (series #3)

(This might look like a peaceful island, but step on within and the shadows with creep out. This part in the series is made with the help by @thecorruptisland and his magical island. The island is his original idea from a while ago. He posts about the island and I wanted to feature it in my series. Thanks for allowing me too and enjoy the posts, I will be making a two part for the island. Enjoy.)

Friday 1:00 pm (Streets of VoreNation)

“As the parade continues down past the famous saloon that Cal designed for preds. We should be able to see the king any moment” an announcer says as the parade passes. I walk out on the balcony and an eruption of cheers fills the air, I wave to all the amazing citizens and travels of VoreNation. The celebration comes to a halt in front of the building and I walk up to a microphone. “Hello great citizens and travelers of VoreNation, we are here to celebrate the Minister of War. MOW Nightly has served his nation proud and deserves a great celebration and promotion. I could think of no man greater, who I trust more to earn such a title of MOW. With that enjoy the day, and let’s get the parade rolling!!!!” I say with vigor and excitement and sit back done in my chair. The parade goes on with MOW Nightly on the first float, he saluted me as he went by. At the end was a float commemorating Private Scotty, for his bravery and abrupt end. His family would be well taken care of by the city.

As the festivities continue, I turn to Corey, I was happy to hear he could make the event. It’s always nice to see an old friend like him, apparently, he made a lot of changes to his own nation and requested I come see them sometime. I obligated and said it would be an honor, once the festival was over. At that moment my top researcher came in and told me it was urgent. Dr. Miller sounded excited so I assumed it was good news. Miller had been the head of the researching team for under a year now with one mission. Find an ancient land and civilization my grandfather used to tell me about as a kid. The citizens of VoreNation knew this place only as a legend but I had reason to believe it was real. I recently uncovered some ancient ruins before the construction of VoreNation. Hidden beneath the dirt and rock, was a clay pot. It contained ancient scrolls and texts, which were dated back before the rule of my family.

One of the scrolls contained details about this ancient land that was once legend. Even some coordinates but sadly hale of the text was damaged and couldn’t be salvaged. That’s when I tasked a research team to find the mysterious lost land. So I was excited and left immediately with him. “Corey I’m sorry, I’m going to have to reschedule. Important stuff has come up, thanks for coming” I said to Corey as I shook his hand and left. We entered the elevator and went to the research lab, once on the floor we went to a massive futuristic map lay out that was 3D. It was an island to the west of the city, it was mountainous that led in a valley and then a forest. It was a huge island, that looked uninhabited. I turned to Dr. Miller and spoke, “ congratulations Dr, you have found it. I couldn’t have done it without you. Task a team of you and two on your brightest researchers. We leave in the morning. I’ll have my ship out at the harbor and we will depart at sunrise!!”

The following morning.... 6:00 AM

“Hello Dr. Miller, did you bring your researchers? I hope the island hasn’t been a waste of time. You know my grandfather used to talk about it all the time. He even said that the royal family originated from there. When I asked however about why they left the place, he had fear in his eyes. This expedition must be classified” I told the Doctor as I waved my hand to the captain to get a move on. As we set the course, we went over the island layout. The island was massive and surprisingly not on any modern world maps. This was strange to me because I had many people map out the world years ago. Made the island was dangerous, I thought as I ponder what could have made my family leave there home. We were preds after all, nothing really was above us in the food chain.

“CAPTAIN SHIP DEAD AHEAD” a shipmate yelled through the intercom. I ran up the stairs and saw a massive ship, not bigger then mine though. It was head right for us and I told the Captain to halt and keep guns pointed at the ship. “Stay the props, keep all weaponry aimed at the ship. No one fires with out my orders.” I spoke through the intercom to the ship’s defense team. That’s when I saw a flag being raised, colored bright blue. The international sign of peace, I was relieved. Must be a cargo ship, but where was it going. We were very close to the island as it looked like it can out of nowhere but in the direction of the island.

We dropped anchor, watched as the ship did the same. After a few minutes, a small passenger ship came out and headed towards us. It docked by our ship and a man walked on the boat up to me. He was escorted by my men and stoped right in front of me and said “ Hello I’m Saladin, nice ship you have here. You look like a very important person. Might I ask who you are?” He greeted me and asked. I put out my hand and shook his before saying” Hello my name is Cal, I’m the ruler of VoreNation and it’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I ask why you are out here and where you can from?” I asked curious about this man before me. He began to tell me he was out here with his research team, studying and researching rare sea creatures. “Ohhh Wow it’s an honor to meet your acquaintance, your majesty. I live on a massive island about 30 minutes In that direction.” He said casually. I was shocked he was an inhabitant of the island. Come to find out he is a researcher of not just creatures but history as well. He asked if I would like to come visit the island and I obliged. He stayed on my ship and I told him about the scroll I found and about my grandfather's stories. “Wait it can’t be, your apart of a tribe that left the island hundreds maybe thousands of years ago. I must take you to the ruins where our ancestors used to live.”

“Wait are you serious? This can’t be real, I knew nothing about my family’s past. They lived here on the island, my grandfather was right? This is amazing I can’t wait to see the ruins.” I said seemingly as happy as when Dr. Miller told me he found the island. The ships docked at a harbor, the island was massive and looked like a continent. Turns out the island was full of life, there were even cities. They weren’t as advanced as VoreNation but it was still impressive. We got in vehicles and drove to the site. We passed so many strand animals and plants. One plant even looked more then alive but carnivores. “ Haha yeah be careful some of these plants are actually carnivores. They will eat any livening thing even you. So the island is supposedly older than all other lands but has never been altered by evolution. What I mean is the island is so what prehistoric. I’ve been studying it for years and you wouldn’t believe the stuff I’ve found. We’re actually going to a research facility set up right outside of the ruins of your ancestors old tribe.” Saladin spoke as he drove through the vegetation. I was completely shocked but also thought that maybe one of my land surveyor teams came across the island and never got out. That’s why the island was never mapped. We pulled up to this facility creepy looking but me and my guards went in and we headed down.

“So what do you know about monsters?” Saladin asked me as we went down the elevator. “ hahaha monsters, and here I thought you were a scientist. Monster is legend, not real.” I said joking around. The door open and we stepped inside. That’s when I saw it, a massive box. Inside was a massive wolf like man. It was asleep but realized it was sedated. “You think monsters are legend now, Cal? This massive werewolf was captured by me 2 years and I’ve spent the last two years conducting vore tests on him. Apparently he is extremely powerful and can swallow anything. That’s not the amazing thing though, what’s fascinating is that I’ve developed a serum from him. It allows the victim to be swallowed but once digest water by stomach or cock can regenerate into there original form once out of the werewolf or a man.” He told me as he handed me a shot of the serum. “ this is amazing I never knew this was possible, and werewolves and pred plants. I mean what is this place, it’s so fascinating. Wait where did you capture the werewolf again?” I asked curious. “He was right out of the edge of our family’s ruins. I assume that’s why your family left, the pack of werewolf’s ravaged this twin and vored most everyone in the town. The few survivors left for new land, never to come back again.” He said

A little time later....

“Cal I suggest you drink that serum just in case this island is very dangerous. I should know, I’m a descendant of the original founders of the island. Werewolf’s still run around, and other creatures. This werewolf is actually the last one of the alpha originals pack. There are no more like him on the island. I’ve been researching these ruins for ages and studying the ancient family who lived here. I’ve found texts about what happened by a survivor. I assume they left it so one day someone would find it and know what happened here. If you want to explorer feel free to, I know there’s an old grave yard up the hill passed the well.” He told me and he showed me a map layout of the ruins. I was nearly bursting with knowledge, it was so much to process. I need to be by myself for a minute, plus I wanted to explore the ruins.

#vorenation #cock vore #orginal #series

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clatterbane · 5 years ago

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Coronavirus: Doctor who issued warning over lack of PPE dies in Queen’s Hospital, Romford

Just five days before being admitted, Dr Chowdhury wrote a Facebook post asking Boris Johnson to urgently provide every NHS worker with PPE.

In the post on March 18, he wrote: “People appreciate us and salute us for our rewarding job which are very inspirational but I would like to say we have to protect ourselves and our families /kids in this global disaster/crisis by using appropriate PPE and remedies.”

#our local hospital #coronavirus #covid-19 #ppe #safety #nhs #underfunding #uk politics #the ongoing shitshow #fuck the tories #death #austerity

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Different People (Different Arguments), 2/14 (Branjie/Jankie) - Ortega

a/n: a big thank u and loads of love to everyone who’s reading so far!!

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a political advisor for a government department where she has to contend with an incompetent Minister, maintaining her stone-cold bitch image, working alongside a press team of slackers, and the Prime Minister’s ever-so-slightly terrifying enforcer breathing down her neck 24/7. So when a familiar face from her past arrives as her new boss, she’s not exactly thrilled to add another problem to her ever-growing pile.

And then she admits she’s got a crush on her coworker.

Last chapter: Brooke helped Bianca set up Darienne’s resignation and the new Secretary of State Jacqueline Cox arrived.

In this chapter: Brooke and the rest of the advisors accompany Jackie to a series of press interviews in a bid to make her a household name. But it’s not all smooth sailing when they’re blindsided by a rogue interview and a sensationalist, right-wing newspaper article.

Trigger warning: d slur

***

Brooke thought that old saying was pretty much spot on- a week was a long time in politics. More fittingly, a week seemed like a year in politics when nobody was talking about you at all, which was exactly the case for Jackie Cox. The expenses scandal had taken up most of the headlines for the past seven days as it had emerged that Darienne apparently hadn’t been the only one that had been doctoring them. There had been a lot of reshuffling within the party as a result of the various resignations that had ensued and Bianca had been close to a massive coronary for the whole week trying to make order out of chaos.

The worst thing about the whole situation was having to watch Nicky Doll on the BBC lunchtime news, sat in front of Chi-Chi Devayne and shaking her head solemnly as she gave their whole party a damning verdict, saying how out of touch with the electorate they were and how much they lacked empathy for the British public. It still made Brooke’s blood boil; the fact that Nicky could accuse them of being out of touch when she grew up on acres of land, was privately educated her whole life and had basically been awarded the job in the Shadow Cabinet by her father and his Etonian schoolboy clique. The irony was almost painful.

Still, a week had been and gone and Jackie hadn’t quite made the splash that Bianca had been hoping for. She’d been given about the equivalent of a column inch across the tabloids and a couple of mentions on TV as part of the reshuffle, but apart from that they might as well have appointed an stuffed aubergine as Darienne’s replacement and the media wouldn’t have given two fucks. Jackie, for her part, seemed suitably disappointed. It was definitely interesting having her in the department, Brooke thought. She was an improvement on Darienne; efficient, motivating, determined. Productivity in the department seemed to have risen by quite an amount and for the first time in months Brooke could actually see Adore’s desk, the clutter and unfinished work almost gone. Jan had certainly started to throw herself into her work a lot more in the past week, which was intriguing for someone who had wanted to quit the job before Jackie arrived. Vanessa, if anything, was just on edge. She was constantly paranoid that Darienne was going to bomb threat Dosac as a result of their betrayal. Much as it made Brooke laugh, she hated seeing Vanessa genuinely worried and had to remind her almost daily that if Darienne could barely be bothered walking across the office to the water cooler then she probably wouldn’t go to the effort of creating an elaborate Guy Fawkes-esque attack on the department. Brooke’s stomach had flipped when Vanessa was finally reassured and flashed her a little shy smile, but that was probably just the result of something she’d eaten.

Definitely not anything to do with Vanessa.

Although not everything about Jackie’s arrival was positive. Jackie was incredibly strict on the way she wanted things done around the department and was never shy of calling meetings with her three advisors and Nina to clarify protocol or to smack them all over their heads with her latest thought process. For Brooke it reminded her of how annoying she found Jackie, but the other girls in the department seemed incredibly enamoured with her. Scarlet liked her makeup, Adore loved her humour. Vanessa was impressed with how organised and on top of things she was, Yvie admired her knowledge of a variety of different languages. Jaida liked her fashion sense, Nina appreciated how friendly she was to everyone that worked there. Jan seemed to hang off every word she said, nodding enthusiastically at any suggestion Jackie came up with, giggling like a fucking child at any joke she made. It was weird, Brooke thought. Admittedly Jan greeted most things in life with an excitable enthusiasm to match her bullet-train pace of speaking and her energetic movements, and whenever she was around Jackie she was the same but with a hint of something different to it all. She was always so alert, the first to speak up in meetings and give a pro to any con of an idea of Jackie’s. Brooke supposed that must have been the effect Jackie had on people. Well, people who weren’t her.

When Jackie bounced into the department on Monday morning behind Vanessa, she was wearing a black pair of suit trousers, a cream shirt and a matching black suit jacket, and carrying two full trays of Starbucks coffee.

“Good morning, ladies!” she sang, her bright smile dissonant with the grey drizzle outside and the fact that it wasn’t even 9am. “Thought we could all use some coffee this morning, a bit of caffeine to cure those Monday blues! Jaida, I’ve got a skinny latte for you!”

Impressed, Jaida jumped up out of her chair and took the coffee from Jackie with a grateful smile and a polite thank you.

“Yvie, I knew you liked your cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, and Scarlet without,” Jackie continued, handing out coffee cups like Santa in a shopping mall’s sub-par grotto. “Adore, I got you a hot chocolate, Nina, I couldn’t remember whether or not you liked green tea or camomile so I got you raspberry and apple, is that okay?”

As Nina’s face lit up and reassured her that raspberry and apple was fine, Brooke found herself rolling her eyes. If Jackie wanted to get them all onside with drinks which essentially served as props for the Instagram photos of little white teenagers then she could be Brooke’s guest, but she wasn’t about to start buddying up to her anytime soon. She watched as she handed Vanessa a caramel latte, something inside her burning fiercely as she saw Vanessa flash her angelic smile Jackie’s way. The Minister then moved on to Jan’s desk, her cheerful demeanour suddenly becoming a little repressed, as if she was holding back out of embarrassment or fear or something else that wouldn’t make any sense at all. Brooke and Vanessa seemed to be the only ones watching as Jan looked up at Jackie from under her lashes.

“Hi,” Jackie began, smiling almost tentatively at the other girl. Jan tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ears and returned the smile.

“Morning, Jackie,” she replied brightly, her voice seeming a little nervous too.

“I got you a peppermint hot chocolate,” Jackie held out the cup nervously as Jan’s face lit up. “I remembered you saying the other day that you liked mint and chocolate together so…I thought you might like it.”

Brooke screwed her face up. That had been a conversation that had taken place last Friday, where Brooke had insisted the entire concept of pairing chocolate with what was essentially just a leaf was insane, and Jan passionately defended the gross combination. It was a silly debate, the kind that could probably be overheard in an infant school playground, and the week had worn them down so their level of intellectualism hadn’t exactly been high. They’d been in the car on the way to Prime Minister’s Questions and from what Brooke could remember Jackie hadn’t even taken part in the conversation. So how could she remember that?

“I did say that,” Jan beamed excitedly, looking up at Jackie with sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much! That’s really sweet.”

Jackie gave an awkward little salute which made Jan giggle, and then moved swiftly on to Brooke’s desk.

“You always liked black coffee at Uni, so…I’m hoping that hasn’t changed,” she shrugged, smiling hesitantly as she rested the cup on Brooke’s desk. Brooke regarded it for a second then turned to face Jackie.

“You shouldn’t buy coffee from tax-dodging companies. It reflects badly on the party,” she said bluntly, feeling a sense of schadenfreude as Jackie’s smile faltered somewhat. That’ll teach her to make Vanessa so goddamned happy.

Wait, where the fuck had that come from?

Feeling a little guilty and coming to the conclusion that she could really use some coffee, Brooke shot Jackie the tiniest smile before adding, “Thanks, though. I guess.”

Satisfied, Jackie turned and walked quickly into her office with her own coffee. Brooke exhaled deeply as she relaxed a little in her chair. She was being a bitch, she knew that, but in her eyes Jackie still had to prove herself to her. Buying them all coffee and staying out of the public eye was hardly going to cut it.

Brooke hadn’t even noticed Vanessa wheeling her way towards her on her swivel chair until she was right at her side.

“Morning, Ms Crocodile,” she smirked playfully, nudging Brooke with her shoulder. Brooke narrowed her eyes at her in response.

“Ms Crocodile?” she sighed, too tired to even try to play along.

“‘Cause you’re so snappy,” Vanessa giggled at her own joke, her caffeine-induced cheerfulness completely unwavering. Brooke tilted her head and fixed her friend with an unimpressed glare. Nonplussed, Vanessa bopped her on the nose with her finger. “Is someone a lil’ jealous of our new Minister friend?”

“Jealous, please,” Brooke scoffed. “In all the time you’ve known me have I ever been jealous of anyone?”

“Yes,” Vanessa said simply. Brooke rolled her eyes.

“I have not!”

“Have too, bitch.”

Brooke sighed, desperate to move the conversation out of the back-and-forth bickering that it had turned into. “Shut up. How was your weekend, anyway?”

“Oh, not bad. Me, Scarlet an’ Yvie went for lunch with Silk an’ Kiki on Saturday at that new Italian that opened up in Soho. Service was shit but the food was incredible so we’re for sure goin’ back. You should’ve come with us!”

Brooke grimaced. “You know how I feel about anyone who works for Nicky Doll, V.”

“Aw, c’mon, Brooke Lynn. Silk an’ Akeria work for the civil service, not Nicky,” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I mean, look at those girls and tell me honestly if there’s anyone sat at those desks that’s party loyal.”

Brooke cast her eyes over to the comms team. Scarlet and Yvie had fashioned the assorted litter on their desks into a mini game of table football, Nina was reading some form of gossip magazine. At first glance it looked as if Adore was actually doing work until Brooke realised the phone she was talking into was definitely not a work phone, the huge fluffy pink phone case giving her away. Jaida was painting her nails red.

Knowing that Vanessa had her defeated, Brooke cast her gaze to the keyboard surreptitiously. “Things might be different at Nicky’s end, though.”

“Brooke, Kiki told us that last week Nicky and her advisors went to the treasury and the entire comms team played jousting with their wheely chairs across the office until they got back.”

“Even Asia?”

“The whole thing had been her idea! C’mon, we’re goin’ for drinks tonight after work. Please come? Please?” Vanessa pleaded with a pout, taking Brooke’s hand and in turn sending an electric charge straight to her heart. “I always miss you when you ain’t with us.”

Well. This changed the whole situation. Vanessa missed her, and so clearly if Brooke came out tonight that would make her happy. All Brooke really wanted was to make Vanessa happy. No- that sounded weird, like she had a crush on her or something- all it was was that Brooke just loved seeing Vanessa smile and the prospect of having that smile directed at her was worth spending time with the opposition. Taking a long sip of her coffee, Brooke was amused by the way Vanessa’s face was frozen in suspense.

“Okay, I’ll come tonight. But!” Brooke held a hand up, attempting to silence the excited Vanessa who was jumping up and down in her chair like an energetic puppy. “- I’m not staying too long, and you’re buying me a drink.”

“Sweet!” Vanessa beamed, giving Brooke’s hand one last squeeze and letting it go. Beginning to wheel her chair back to her own desk, she threw her head back and groaned. “Man, I can’t wait for this day to be over now!”

Trying to recover from her interaction with the human cocker spaniel herself, she turned her attention to the comms team.

“Do you guys not have some actual work to be getting on with?”

“Look around you, Brooke. This place is like dark ages Russia,” Yvie stretched out in her chair lazily, distracted from her game. “There’s no phones ringing. Nobody gives a shit about Dosac at the moment, they’re still too busy going over the finer details of everyone’s expenses and why Coco Montrese claimed for a duck house.”

Brooke had to give the media that; Coco’s duck house did seem to win the award for most ridiculous claim made, and the very fact that it had cost £850 was front page-worthy in itself. Sighing, she stood up from her desk and started to walk towards Jackie’s office.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she reassured the girls, who were no longer paying attention and had resumed their game of table football. Knocking on Jackie’s glass door, she could see her lounging in her chair, her feet up on the table as she scrolled at her laptop, bored.

“Come in!”

Brooke opened the door and made her way inside. Not bothering to sit, she opted instead to lean against the wall. “Do you want to give those girls out there something to work on instead of just coffee?”

Jackie gave her a disgruntled glare, swinging her heels down off the desk and onto the floor with a heavy clunk.

“They’re not working on anything because there isn’t anything to work on. I can’t get anything I want off ground until the media actually acknowledge my existence. I mean, am I a real person? Am I a ghost?”

“Well you’re not transparent. But then again I don’t actually know what a ghost looks like, so that doesn’t totally rule you out. They do take on human form sometimes, don’t they?”

“Brooke, I’m serious!” Jackie snapped at her, Brooke biting back a laugh and apologising. “I mean, what do you have to do to get on TV these days? Soil myself? Eat a used tampon? I don’t know what the minimum requirements are anymore.”

“Please don’t do either of those things.”

“You know what I mean. I mean, where’s Bianca been? I’ve not seen her since my first day.”

“She’s been too busy drinking the blood of those old Ministers she had to fire and reshuffling the entire party like some horrific human card deck. You’ll see her again, don’t worry. She probably has a plan for this whole radio silence the media have decided to pull on you,” Brooke found herself reassuring Jackie, who was slumped forward with her head in her hands looking disappointed. Obviously comforted somewhat, she sat up straight in her chair and smiled at Brooke.

“Thanks, Brooke Lynn. I guess I could start preparing for that incapacity benefits debate on Friday?” she shrugged, pulling her laptop in front of her decisively.

“That’s the spirit,” Brooke gave the air an anaemic punch as she strolled out of the office again. Sitting back in her chair and sighing, she hoped that Bianca would show up before the day was out.

***

Bianca did have a plan.

She turned up to the office at around nine-thirty, around half an hour after Brooke had spoken to Jackie, and greeted everyone with milder insults than normal which made Brooke think that she was in a good mood. As she called for Nina, Brooke, Vanessa and Jan to come to the office, something told Brooke that the day was about to get a lot more high-octane.

Bianca liked Jackie from what Brooke saw of their first meeting. She supposed “liked” was the wrong word- “highly tolerated”, or just simply “didn’t want to strangle her” would be more appropriate. Brooke thought it was probably because Jackie had that way of being pleasant enough without coming across as an ass-kisser or a bullshitter, two things that Bianca despised.

“Right, the Loose Women panel,” she began, casting her hand across the girls in the room. “I’ve noticed that Jackie is getting about as much attention as Jedward’s third album. Nina I know you’re not quite up to speed with popular culture so in layman’s terms, that’s fuck all attention.”

Nina bristled with offence as the other girls laughed. “I’m not a damn fossil, thank you very much.”

“Anyway, all that is going to change today,” Bianca turned to face Jackie, looking her directly in the eye. “I’ve got you three interviews with major newspapers.”

“What, nothing on TV?” Jackie cried, frustrated. Brooke saw Vanessa visibly stiffen out of the corner of her eye in preparation for the oncoming hellfire Bianca was about to unleash.

“Oh I’m sorry, Marilyn Monroe! In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a cabinet minister, not a fucking film star,” Bianca spat, her eyes glinting as she put Jackie in her place. “I’ve been busting my fucking ovaries to get this massive expenses fuck-up sorted and you want to argue the toss between having your face plastered over the papers or beamed into people’s living rooms? Calm the hell down. You have a fucking bundle to learn, let me tell you.”

Vanessa immediately hopped in, eager to dispel the tension that Bianca had created in the room. “Do we know who the interviews are with, Bianca?”

“We’ve got a print piece with The Independent. Laila McQueen is doing that one, she’s still young and will probably do the interview hungover so you should be alright. The second is for a supplement in The Times and it’s got an accompanying photoshoot. I think Fame is in charge of all that.”

Jackie laughed derisively, raising a single eyebrow in disbelief. “Fame?”

“Yes, Fame! That’s the bitch’s fucking name, and also what you’ll be avoiding for the rest of your career if you try to take the piss one more time!” Bianca folded her arms in defiance. Calming slightly and returning to her point, she continued. “Your last one of the day is with The Daily Mail.”

Brooke involuntarily sucked in a breath of air through her teeth. The Daily Mail had the potential to be a danger depending on who was conducting the interview.

“Do we know who we’ve got for that one?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We don’t yet but it’s definitely not Gia Gunn. She’s away in Spain covering Yara Sofia’s wedding or some other tat,” Bianca curled her top lip, clearly unimpressed with the current standard of journalism.

“Thank God. I don’t think I could sit listening to her speak through her nasal passages for a whole half hour,” Jan massaged her temples, already looking exhausted.

“Anyway, that’s an online interview so at least you’ll reach a larger audience. Your interview with McQueen is at 10.30, after that you’ll have a car to transport you and fucking Little Mix here to the next two. Are you clear on what the line is for everything?” Bianca asked, training one nail on Jackie’s face like a sniper.

“Yes,” Jackie said immediately.

“You’re still pushing what we spoke about last week?”

“Respond more compassionately to the refugee crisis, cut the banker’s bonuses and stop the war on benefit claimants,” Jackie fired off passionately, reminding Brooke of every single uni debate she’d ever taken part in.

Maybe she was going to be a force for good for this party after all.

“Jesus, nobody could accuse you of being wishy-washy,” Bianca raised her eyebrows, the closest thing to impressed Brooke had seen her in weeks. “Okay, go out into the world and make your mark! Make sure it’s not a skid mark. I’ll be back to check in at 4.”

With that, Bianca was carried away by her Jimmy Choos before Brooke could even wave her goodbye. Heaving a huge exhale, Jackie sat up in her chair and drummed her nails on the desk in what was either excitement or nervousness.

“Look at you, Miss Cox! A photoshoot already for the next big thing in politics? You must’ve done somethin’ right,” Vanessa beamed at her, relaxing against the filing cabinet she had been standing beside. Jackie raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“She’s right, this is a big deal, Jackie! You’re going to be Jan-tabulous,” Jan grinned, Brooke barely containing the way her eyes rolled at the awful pun.

Jackie’s cheeks became a little flushed as she gave Jan a hopeful smile. “You think so?”

Jan looked to the floor momentarily, tucking an unruly section of hair behind one ear as her own cheeks began to go a little pink. “Of course you will! Believe in yourself, I believe in you! I mean…we. We all do.”

The room was suddenly silent as Jackie unsuccessfully tried to hold back a massive smile, Jan still blushing and looking at the floor timidly. Looking to Nina incredulously, Brooke decided to swiftly move them all on from whatever the fuck this was.

“Told you Bianca would have a plan, didn’t I?” she raised her eyebrows smugly, stretching out in her chair like a cat.

“You did indeed, Brooke Lynn,” Jackie indulged her, smirking a little.

“Much as I’d love to join in the Brooke Was Right All Along celebrations, we do only have half an hour until we need to be at The Independent,” Nina clicked her pen impatiently, prompting a flurry of activity within the office. Vanessa was asked to phone for Jackie’s driver, Jan and Brooke were to collect any and all relevant notes that could be useful for the interviews, and Nina was asked to stay and go over the media briefing with Jackie one more time. As the girls rushed around the department getting things ready, Adore shouted over from the comms team asking what in the real and actual fuck was going on.

“Bianca’s kickstarting Jackie’s career so we’re going to be running around various media offices all day. We’re paying your girlfriend a visit, by the way,” Jan smirked, laughing at the way Adore blushed slightly and turned her attention back to her keyboard.

“Hey, you’re in no position to speak, girl,” Brooke lowered her voice as she joined Jan as she flicked her way through a massive filing cabinet. “What the hell was that in there? Ohh, we all believe in you Jackie, you’re going to do great, my eyes are actually made of heart emojis!”

Brooke immediately regretted her comments as Jan suddenly hit her with a massive lever arch file, her face unimpressed. “I’m simply trying to be nice and supportive. You know, being nice? You maybe did it once back in 2001 or something?”

Unable to help herself, Brooke let out a peal of laughter. “Shut up. Let’s get moving before Bianca comes back to yell at us for being late.”

With the five girls all assembled, they began to make their way to the lift. Jackie looked every inch the confident, successful politician in her smart outfit, shining, polished patent heels, and perfect makeup. However inside Brooke knew she would be terrified and that in turn terrified her. As much as she still didn’t have a huge amount of faith in Jackie she hoped and prayed she wouldn’t fuck up. As they were about to step into the lift, Brooke felt a sudden tug on the sleeve of her coat. Turning round, she saw Adore looking a little nervous.

“Brooke,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the comms team anxiously. “I’m not really seeing Laila McQueen…well, not seeing seeing her. But, uh…if you catch her. Could you tell her I said hi?”

Giving her a quick look up and down, Brooke could tell Adore was serious.

“Don’t tell me you’ve developed feelings for her? Because this could be a total mess, Adore. If you get into a relationship with her and put one foot out of line our party’s going to be all over the papers like cat piss,” she warned her sternly. Adore seemed to already have considered this, and tugged down the sleeves of her smart shirt over her knuckles.

“I know what I’m getting myself into. Just…let her know, okay?”

With that, Adore turned on her six-inch heels and walked back to her desk, her face hiding any trace of the conversation ever having happened. Still slightly thrown, Brooke walked into the lift just as the doors closed behind her.

“Timed that well, genius,” Jan quipped as Brooke quickly fixed her hair in the mirror.

What was happening to the office, Brooke wondered. Scarlet and Yvie were all loved up, something (God knows what) was going on with Jan, and now Adore was trying to make things serious with a journalist, of all people.

At least she could say that she’d never get herself into something as ridiculous as a workplace relationship.

***

Sitting at the sidelines and watching Jackie’s interview with Laila McQueen wrap up, Brooke breathed a huge sigh of relief. It had gone well. Really well, actually. From the moment Jackie had walked in and greeted the young journalist, it was clear that Laila was impressed by her and the interview had seemed more like a friendly chat if anything. No matter how well it had gone, though, it hadn’t stopped Vanessa being on edge and she’d sat and picked at the split ends in her hair for the entire hour, completely tense. Jan had sat enraptured by the entire thing, her elbows resting on her knees and her head resting in her hands as she listened to Jackie talk. Nina, on the other hand, had slowly made her way through the entire plate of biscuits The Independent had provided them, seemingly not the least bit bothered whether Jackie succeeded or failed.

Remembering her promise to Adore, Brooke went up and greeted the journalist just as they were all making to leave.

“Ms McQueen.”

“Brooke Lynn, right?” she smiled, holding out an overly-formal hand for her to shake. Brooke took it tentatively.

“Um, yeah. How did you-”

“Sweetheart, I work in journalism. We make it our business to know everything about anyone who’s anyone, or who knows anyone who’s anyone even remotely,” Laila reeled off cryptically.

“Uh, great. Anyway, I just came over to say that Adore says hi. Clearly she’s not in any way bothered about seeming desperate,” she added at the end as she inwardly despaired of the junior comms officer. Laila shook her head and gave a funny sort of laugh.

“Well. Tell her she’s got my number if she ever wants to tell me herself,” she smiled flirtatiously as she swaggered away, as if she’d been talking to Adore herself. Cursing herself for allowing herself to be intimidated by some fresh-out-the-womb journalist, Brooke quickly caught up with the other girls in the car.

Interview number two and the accompanying photoshoot was less perfect. Jackie had the detriment of being interviewed by the infamous Fame, who asked her a lot more hard-hitting questions. Jackie gave as good as she got and fired back counterattacking statements, facts and figures as the four other girls sat and watched the verbal tennis match that was unfolding in front of them. Still, the photoshoot went a little better and Jackie seemed pretty confident in front of the camera. If Brooke was feeling generous she would even say that the Minister looked good, but it was already half past one and she’d still not had any lunch so to say she was feeling irritable was putting it mildly. With a curt nod and a handshake from Fame they were out of the building and into the car to the next interview, Jackie squashed between Vanessa and Jan and Brooke and Nina sitting opposite them. With a groan, Jackie immediately pulled off her heels.

“Oh God, Jackie, could you at least wait until we’re not in the car to do that? You’re not at home in front of the TV, this is a Cabinet Minister’s Bentley,” Brooke turned her nose up.

“Hey, lay off! These heels are just hard to break in. God, I’m already exhausted,” Jackie sighed, tipping her head to the side and resting it on Jan’s shoulder. Brooke watched as Jan’s eyes grew momentarily huge, then as she stayed painfully still as if Jackie was a little bird or butterfly that she didn’t want to scare away.

“Nina,” Vanessa asked as she leant forward in her seat and furrowed her brow. “You got any word on who’s doing this interview yet?”

“I only know what Bianca’s told us, I’m afraid. When I know, you’ll know,” Nina replied lazily, scrolling through her work phone with boredom. Vexed, Brooke frowned at her.

“Nina, what actually is your job title? Communications officer with the society for the deaf, blind and dumb?”

“Okay! Okay, God, I’ll send a few texts. Chill,” Nina rolled her eyes, beginning to tap at her phone.

“She’s going to send a few texts. Some really groundbreaking stuff here, folks.”

“Will you two stop with the bickering?” Vanessa hissed, slamming her folder on her knees for emphasis. “We still got ten minutes in this car, can’t we all arrive at The Daily Mail without any limbs havin’ been hacked off?”

There was a frosty silence in the car as it rumbled along the streets of London, every so often getting caught in inevitable traffic and being crowded up in between huge, double-decker buses and black cabs. Brooke was worried. Bianca usually knew by now who was conducting the interview and the fact that she apparently didn’t yet, or had just neglected to tell them, wasn’t good.

After a few minutes in which the silence was only broken by the rumble of the car’s engine, Nina spoke again.

“Huh. That’s interesting.”

All four of the others turned to face Nina, who was looking at her phone quizzically. Obviously taking their concerned faces as a prompt, she continued talking.

“The interview is with…Shangela Wadely?”

The silence continued, only this time everyone’s faces became somewhat more crumpled up.

“Ring any bells with anyone?” Nina asked tentatively.

Brooke was stumped. She had been expecting perhaps Delta and had been bracing herself for a rocky interview at best, but she had never heard of this Shangela girl before. She must have been new on the scene, which was a worry because now they had no idea what to make of how this interview would go.

“Whoever the bitch is, I’m sure the interview will go amazin’,” Vanessa eventually smiled, her optimism and positivity making Brooke worry a little less.

“Jan-mazing!” Jan piped up happily, earning her a groan from the four other women in the car.

Eventually arriving at the offices of The Daily Mail, they were ushered through various corridors by a receptionist who was clearly rushed off her feet. She deposited them in some form of lobby, told them that Shangela would be with them in a few minutes, and after that they were left on their own. Trying to get her bearings, Brooke took in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that everything was eerily pink. The odd sofa-slash-bench things they were sitting on were pink, the carpet was a light pink, the walls looked like something in Barbie’s dream house. It was as if they’d turned up to be interviewed by Delores Umbridge. As each minute passed, Brooke became less and less able to take her surroundings seriously.

“How the hell is this the décor in a newspaper office? I feel like I’m sitting inside a womb,” she eventually said, not without a generous helping of disgust.

“Well, Bianca did say it was an online piece. Maybe they’re more lax about their offices in the web department?” Jan shrugged, scrutinizing the furniture around them.

Something about it still wasn’t sitting right with Brooke. However, she barely had time to think too much about it as a bright, bubbly woman emerged from a pink corridor to greet them. She was wearing a short, blue shift dress which complimented her dark skin and glossy brown hair, and her makeup was perfect. This girl seemed miles away from the journalists Brooke knew, most of them all usually hungover or sporting their makeup from the night before or bad-tempered. The girl introduced herself as Shangela and showed them all through to another eerily pink room but this time set up and equipped for an interview, another girl getting various things ready inside. To Brooke’s delight there was a sandwich platter sat on a table at the back of the room. Reaching for a plate, she began piling them up on top of each other, reigning it in with embarrassment as she saw Vanessa standing beside her. Looking at her friend, she noticed a small, worried frown on her face.

“Hey. This will go fine, okay? Jackie’s got this.”

“I know. I’m just nervous, Brooke. I’ve been to the web offices before, we both have, when we were with Darienne. This looks like we’re in the wrong place,” Vanessa whispered, tugging on a lock of hair.

“Yeah, well, maybe Jan’s right. Maybe this is just an extension or another section of the offices or something. We’ll definitely be in the web department, even if it looks like the inside of Sharpay Evans’ locker. Don’t worry,” Brooke gave Vanessa a brave smile.

“You’re so good at calming me down. Sorry for bein’ a mess,” Vanessa smiled back somewhat apologetically. “Thanks, Brooke Lynn.”

Before Brooke could even open her mouth to reply, Vanessa had sat down on the ridiculously pink sofa beside Jan and Nina, waiting for the interview to begin. All appetite suddenly gone, Brooke replaced the plate of sandwiches on the table and joined Vanessa on the sofa. She was so warm and the room was so cold and Brooke had to fight the urge to cuddle up to her.

She watched as Shangela sat down in the chair opposite Jackie, the random girl who was clearly her assistant handing her a bottle of water, her notes and her recorder.

“So we’ll just get straight into it and we’ll edit bits out and together as necessary, okay?” Shangela smiled at Jackie, who nodded a little nervously and shifted in her seat. Picking up her recorder, Shangela pressed a single button and sat back in her seat. “Interview with Jackie Cox, commencing at 15.07 on the 14th of October, 2016. Hi Jackie, it’s so good to have you with us today!”

“It’s good to be here, Shangela. I’m just excited to show your readers what I’m about and what they can expect from the party with me as head of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship,” Jackie reeled off, smiling pleasantly back at her.

This was a good start. Shangela seemed cheerful enough, relatable and happy and keen to present Jackie in a good light.

“I have to say, I’m absolutely loving this outfit you have on, Jackie. Can you tell me a little bit about it, why did you choose that particular one today?” Shangela asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Brooke furrowed her brow. This wasn’t exactly ideal- Jackie was here to talk policy, not the contents of her walk-in wardrobe. Reminding herself that these sorts of questions were unfortunately expected if you were a woman working in politics, Brooke tried to relax. This was just one stupid question about fashion to try and endear her to the female electorate, she was sure Shangela meant well. Jackie looked somewhat like a deer in the headlights as she cast a quick glance to her advisors sitting on the sofa. Brooke nodded rapidly and enthusiastically, circling her hand in a bit to move Jackie along.

“Um, well it’s black and white. And…it’s a nice suit. And I chose it because I liked it and I needed to look smart for work, I guess?” she shrugged, smoothing down her trousers self-consciously.

“It’s gorgeous. Where did you pick it up?”

“Um…from the hangers in my wardrobe?” Jackie laughed awkwardly, glancing again to the girls on the sofa. “I’m sorry I don’t, um…?”

Shangela laughed with her, slightly falsely, Brooke noted. That tight feeling in her stomach returned again, and she willed Shangela to start asking her about Jackie’s actual job sooner rather than later.

“I have to say, Jackie, you’ve got a great sense of humour, some great style- the guys must be falling over each other to snap you up! Tell me, is there a man in your life at the moment?” Shangela continued, reaching for her water bottle. Jackie’s mouth dropped open a little bit, something between a laugh and a cough coming out. She looked clearly offended, and if she was being honest Brooke didn’t blame her. The archaic questions were beginning to wear thin, and Jackie was obviously keen to start talking about what she was actually there for, instead of whatever this was.

“Well, I’m not interested in men at all actually, so no,” Jackie replied curtly, her face completely unimpressed and her upper lip curled. There were two ticks of silence where it was Shangela’s turn to look taken aback, and Brooke didn’t dare turn her head to gauge the reactions of the other girls. Shuffling through her notes Shangela continued, the false smile back on her face again.

“So, you’re a woman in politics- a lesbian woman in politics-” Shangela corrected herself, adding in the extra word as if it was somehow relevant to what she was about to ask her. “Are there any other women around Westminster whose style you’re particularly jealous of at the moment? Or indeed, anyone that you’ve got your eye on?”

Jackie raised both her eyebrows and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth very deliberately, as if she was considering what she was about to say. “I don’t really know how this is relevant at all, to be quite honest. Can we move on?”

Brooke jumped as Vanessa’s hand flew out and grabbed her wrist, her nails almost digging into her skin. Glancing quickly at her, Brooke saw that Vanessa’s face looked absolutely terrified, like she’d just been thrown off a ski jump blindfold.

“It’s okay, she’s got this,” Brooke whispered to her, Vanessa nodding ever so slightly but still not releasing her grip on Brooke’s arm.

She could live with that, even if it was starting to cut off the blood circulation to her hand.

“Of course, no problem,” Shangela nodded, glancing at Jackie through narrowed eyes and looking once more at her notes. Soon enough the fake smile was back on her face. “So, as a Cabinet Minister, you’re obviously in a position where you’re sometimes out of the department working all day.”

Delighted that Shangela had finally deviated from asking her such pointless questions, Jackie immediately launched into an answer.

“I’m so glad you brought that up because just today I had an interview with The Independent, where we spoke about my targets over my time in office. I want to make sure that the party is-”

“Ah, so even today you’ve been on the go!” Shangela cut her off, and Brooke thought she couldn’t sound more patronising if she’d tried. “So when you find you’ve got a day like this, what sort of things do you keep in your handbag to make sure you can confidently go about your work and slay whilst doing it?”

Jackie looked momentarily as if she’d been slapped. Ignoring the question, she turned to directly face the girls, and Vanessa’s nails dug into Brooke’s skin once more.

“Is this interview definitely with The Daily Mail or for a 1950’s edition of Cosmo?” she laughed, her eyes dark. Brooke heard Jan suck in an enormous breath of air between her teeth. Vanessa froze. Nina looked like she hadn’t a clue what to say. Brooke was rarely stuck for how to react, but even she was lost for words. Shangela was looking at her assistant with wide eyes, as if she didn’t know either.

“Miss Cox, these questions are simply designed to appeal to the female electorate and help portray you in a favourable, relatable light,” Shangela explained through gritted teeth.

“Well, here. Start maybe by not dumbing them down so much and assuming that the only way they can understand politics is through the finer points of my damn washing basket,” Jackie snapped, standing up from the chair and grabbing her bag decisively. “Ladies, come on. I’m not hugely interested in giving these people any more of my time.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph I feel like I’ve just been pushed out of a plane,” Vanessa whispered breathlessly, frozen to the sofa.

“Jackie, maybe Shangela has some different questions-” Brooke began, desperately trying to placate both the Minister and Shangela. Already the journalist’s face was scheming, as if she knew what headline she was going to run already.

“Screw that, I’m not staying here! If I wanted to sit through half an hour of painful misogyny I could just go and stand outside a building site wearing fishnets and a push-up bra. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Jackie insisted, wrenching open the door. Dutifully, Brooke stood up and followed her, Vanessa not once letting go of her wrist. She couldn’t see Jan’s face, but somehow she already knew it would be similar to her own. As Jackie stormed through the offices and back outside like a tornado, Brooke started thinking less about the diabolical interview and more about how they were going to firefight the inevitable aftermath.

Finally outside, Jackie took a deep breath as the other girls watched her nervously.

“Nina, phone the driver please and tell him if he’s not here within the next two minutes I’m going to cut off his face, turn it into a mask and wear it to the next fancy dress party I get invited to,” she finally blurted out, still clearly angry and shaken by the interview.

“I’ll, um. I’ll maybe just tell him to be as quick as he can,” Nina reasoned, shuffling off to a quieter stretch of the street to make the phonecall.

“What the flying pelican hell was that?!” Jackie cried, staring at the three advisors with incredulity. “Did we time travel? Are we suddenly in the 1950’s? Christ, I thought that these days they’d at least be subtle about sexist bullshit like this, but no!”

“You know you’ve just massively fucked up, right? You can’t just storm out of an interview like that and expect it not to be all over the front pages tomorrow. You’re not any better at just learning to keep your mouth shut now than you were eight years ago, are you?” Brooke snapped, her last sentence out before she knew it. Vanessa was upset, and in Brooke’s view Jackie was the one that had made her upset, so therefore Jackie was getting all of her blame right now and not that airhead journalist.

“So I was just supposed to sit there and answer all that crap like a good little Stepford politician?! Jesus, Brooke, do you not understand just how patronising all of those questions were?”

“Jackie’s right,” Jan spoke up slowly. “To sit through an interview like that would’ve portrayed her as someone that’s never going to be of any threat in Westminster whatsoever. This is going to paint her as someone that should be taken seriously, someone that doesn’t fuck about.”

Upon hearing Jan’s words Jackie seemed to calm down by a good 50%, and smiled at her gratefully. In response Jan’s cheeks flushed and she looked to the ground. Brooke couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This was absolute madness, and she couldn’t be the only one that was terrified at how the fallout of this would affect Jackie’s position in the party. Giving up on both of them, she turned her attention instead to Vanessa, who was sitting alone on the steps leading up to The Daily Mail’s offices.

“V,” Brooke murmured as she sat down beside her. “You okay?”

Vanessa sat up slowly, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Jeez, I’ve been through some stresses in this job but that was just…a new level. I’ve never seen anythin’ like that before. She’s going to get slaughtered by them, Brooke Lynn. What are we gonna do?”

Without thinking, Brooke put her arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, pulling her in close in an attempt to help her relax. “We’ll do what we always do, baby. Spin the entire situation. And you’re going to be the best at it out of us all. You’re clever and creative and crafty, and you’re going to be an asset to us this afternoon. And probably this evening, to be honest, I doubt this is all going to be sorted in a matter of hours.”

Brooke’s heart hammered as Vanessa looked up to her, her eyes wide and dark and so gorgeous that Brooke briefly lost her breath. She felt suddenly as if she should say something to her, tell her something, but she didn’t quite know what.

Brooke’s gaze was averted from Vanessa’s eyes by a sleek black car pulling up on the road in front of them.

“Jackie, the car!” Brooke yelled up the steps, standing up and taking Vanessa’s hand without thinking.

“This’ll all be okay, right?” Vanessa asked, squeezing Brooke’s hand tentatively.

“Hey. We’re the dream team, remember? This’ll be easy,” Brooke smiled, stepping into the car and praying inwardly that she was right.

***

It was front page of The Daily Mail’s main website in a matter of hours.

EXCLUSIVE: AS JACKIE COX WAVES HER SEXUALITY IN OUR FACES AND STORMS OUT OF INTERVIEW, WE SAY…PLUG THE DYKE!

“Wow. I knew they were sensationalist, but I didn’t realise they’d be quite so flippant about plastering a slur all over their website like that,” Nina said awkwardly, as the other girls sat open-mouthed in front of their own monitors.

“I…actually can’t believe they published this,” Vanessa whispered, clearly in shock.

Brooke couldn’t believe it either. She knew that the world hadn’t suddenly been cured of all bigotry just because women had rights and the LGBT community could vote, but she was amazed that the newspaper had managed to get away with something quite so blatantly homophobic.

“Is Jackie okay…?” she spoke up, casting an eye to the glass office where Jackie appeared to have her head in her hands. Immediately, Jan sprang up from her seat.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she said, already halfway across the office on her way to Jackie’s door.

Even Bianca was silent, perched at Vanessa’s desk like a bird of prey. She’d practically lain in wait for them at the office, somehow already aware of what had gone on at The Daily Mail, and had given that one single blood vein on her forehead a good exercise as she yelled at Jackie until she was purple-faced. It turned out that with a simple Google search, Shangela Wadely could be identified as the editor-in-chief of Femail, the Daily Mail’s online section devoted entirely to women. Brooke couldn’t even summon the energy to be mad at Nina for not doing her research. If she was being honest, knowing the segment of the website they were doing an interview for beforehand wouldn’t really have changed the situation. The questions would still have been ridiculous, like some mad parody of a TV show created 60 years ago, and Jackie still would’ve probably not wanted to answer them.

Once Bianca had finished incinerating them all she had worked together with Jackie and the advisors to sort out a line. The dilemma soon became clear; did Jackie come out and address misogyny in the media as an important issue to be tackled or would that make too much noise for a minister who’d only been a week in office? Jan had been enthusiastically pushing the pro-feminist stance, googling those This Is What A Feminist Looks Like t-shirts before the cons of the argument could even be established. Brooke had been wary of it herself, scared of what the dangers of being so outspoken could pose.

“You could really split the electorate with this, Jackie. You know what the public are like, half of them still see the word ‘feminist’ and sharpen their pitchforks before you can even explain what the word actually means. It’s risky,” she’d mused, biting on the end of her pen. She’d looked up at Bianca, about to ask her what she’d thought when Nina had yelled that The Daily Mail had the story up on their website, and they had all dashed to their monitors to check.

Most of them were still staring at the headline in shock.

“Bianca,” Brooke said, quietly but not so that she couldn’t hear. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Bianca was deep in thought for a few seconds, then suddenly she sprang up from Vanessa’s desk, thundering across the floor. “Okay, this is what we’re going to run with! The homophobia and misogyny in the British media is rife and today it has reared its ugly head. Call for condemnation of The Daily Mail, set fire to their houses, fuckin’ eat their children, I don’t care! But just let everyone know that if they even so much as try to make Jackie look like the bad guy in this situation, then they’ll have me to answer to!”

Brooke immediately took to her phone, opening up her list of contacts and settling first on Dida at The Telegraph. Bianca didn’t usually fully show too much kindness to members of the cabinet, but maybe she was a fan of Jackie after all. Brooke had never seen her get quite so defensive over one of her Ministers before, but then again that headline had been disgusting and she wasn’t surprised that Bianca was enraged. As Jan dashed out of Jackie’s office and hit the phone, Brooke found herself hoping that Jackie was alright. Just because she still wasn’t sold about her as a Minister didn’t mean she had any right to put up with shit like that from any news outlet.

A series of conversations and constantly ringing phones later and Brooke still hadn’t reached the halfway point in her list of contacts or was even a quarter of the way through. Her throat was bone dry from repeating the same thing over and over again, and from the looks of it everyone in the office felt the same. Even Bianca seemed to be at risk of carpal tunnel from the force at which she was typing things into her phone. It had reached almost five o’clock and it didn’t appear as if the newspapers were going to let up, or indeed if any of them were going to be heading home anytime soon. So when Nina’s phone rang for what seemed to be the thousandth time, nobody paid any attention at first. That was until she ran over to Bianca.

“Bianca! Bianca, this is important!” Nina hissed, the phone cord stretching to inhuman proportions as Nina leant over to where Bianca stood. “I’ve got Widow Von’Du on the phone.”

There was suddenly a moment where everyone in the department held their breath, then immediately made their excuses to whoever they were on the phone to and hung up.

“Jackie, get out here!” Bianca yelled into Jackie’s office. Obviously bracing herself for more bad news, Jackie trudged out of her office, her face holding a brave smile despite the defeat in her eyes.

“What’s the development, then? Is The Daily Mail’s front page tomorrow just a huge portrait picture of me with another massive slur in capital letters and size 72 font?” she joked despairingly. Jan was the first to speak, clearly excited at the prospect of cheering Jackie up.

“No, Jackie, this is good! Nina has Widow Von’Du on the phone!” she whispered, as if she was conscious that Widow could hear them through the phone.

“What?!”

“Yes! She’s in my hand right now! Apparently she admired your stance against the sexism that’s still so rife in politics and she wants you on the six o’clock news to discuss it with her!” Nina beamed, the phone still pressed to her chest.

Jackie’s entire face immediately changed, her expression first shocked, then sort of confused, and then finally relieved happiness as she struggled to get her words out. “Tell her I’ll be there!”

“Jackie, are you sure this is a good-”

“Tell her I’ll fucking be there, before she hangs up! Oh my God, Widow Von’Du. I’m going to be interviewed by Widow Von’Du, fuck!” Jackie squealed excitedly, spontaneously crushing Jan in a tight hug.

Brooke couldn’t help but smile fondly at Jackie. She was clearly happy, excited at the prospect of turning the day around. Part of her was apprehensive about the fact she was about to be interviewed by Widow Von'Du, though. To compare Widow to somebody else would be foolish- she was incomparable, a standalone figure in the world of journalism, the Nelson’s Column of interviewers. To be interviewed by her was a bit like being asked for an audience with the queen.

“Right, we need to do a lot of things very quickly. Vanessa, you need to phone for the car to Broadcasting House. Brooke, locate some makeup and spruce this bitch up a bit, okay? Jan, you’re gonna go with Jackie to the interview, start grabbing any notes you can get your hands on, anything relevant. Scarlet! Yvie! Jaida! I want you ladies to start phoning anyone and everyone you know, I don’t care if it’s Raja Gemini or Ellen DeGeneres’ cat. Get some fucking hype going around this, this is big, this is the splash we want to be making! Oh, and Adore!” Bianca finished, looking Adore dead in the eye and consequently making her look as if she’d wet her pants.

“Yes, Bianca?” she asked, terrified.

“…get me a fuckin’ Fanta!”

***

The tension and excitement were palpable in the air as Brooke, Vanessa, Bianca and the entire comms team all sat huddled around the huge LCD TV in the corner of the offices. Brooke’s stomach felt as if it was an atrium full of butterflies. If Jackie pulled this off, this would be amazing for her career. If she crashed and burned, she may as well just resign now.

“What time’s it?” asked Vanessa, her voice anxious.

“Five fifty-nine,” said Scarlet, looking up at Vanessa from her space on the floor beside the sofa. “Do you want me to do a countdown?”

“What is this, a fucking space exploration? I just want us all to sit and look at the fucking TV and shut up until Jackie’s home and dry, is that too much to ask?” Bianca cut in, clearly unimpressed by how chilled out Scarlet was. Put out, Scarlet instead cuddled close to Yvie and rested her head on her shoulder.

For a moment Brooke was jealous of them both, jealous of what they had. She sometimes wanted someone to curl up to if she was tired and someone to go home with at the end of the day because despite how much she tried to argue otherwise, she did fleetingly get lonely. Her studio flat often seemed like a giant hen coop and perhaps it was the tiny enclosed space that worsened the feeling, but often it was hard pretending she was such a stone-cold bitch all of the time. It was hard working all day with someone like Vanessa and knowing that she was so beautiful and kind and intelligent and such a ray of sunshine and the complete opposite of her, and that she could be snapped up at any moment by any fucking ridiculous guy that wanted her and that shouldn’t bother her, fuck, why did it bother her?

Brooke was wrenched out of her increasingly spiralling thought process by Adore hitting her shoulder repeatedly. In a daze, Brooke’s eyes focussed on the TV screen where the all too familiar “pips” of the BBC news at six began to play. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, even Bianca.

Dun-dun. “Desperate for shelter- as the refugee crisis worsens, the BBC asks how much longer is the Prime Minister going to ignore it?”

Dun-dun. “Could house prices be getting worse instead of better? Chi-Chi Devayne finds out if you should be selling up or staying put.”

Dun-dun. Brooke sat bolt upright in her seat as a huge, blown-up screengrab of the Daily Mail article filled the screen, backed with the recording of Jackie’s interview in which she walked out. “And, is Britain’s treatment of women only going backwards? In the wake of her interview with The Daily Mail, Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship Jackie Cox talks to Widow Von'Du about why this should serve as a wake-up call to journalists across the country.”

As the intro began to play and Widow was revealed sitting in front of her desk, Brooke still wasn’t able to relax. Jackie probably wouldn’t be on for another fifteen minutes but that wasn’t going to stop her worrying. Looking up at Bianca she saw that she was looking at her phone.

“Bianca. Any word from Jan?”

Snapping her head up from the screen, Bianca gave some semblance of a reassuring glance. “Just got a text from her. She says that Jackie’s raring to go, already met Widow and they got on like a house on fire. She says it’s very unlikely that we have anything to worry about.”

“Great, so am I good to go home now?” Nina asked, lazily lifting her head up from the huge cushions of the sofa. Bianca only had to fix her with a withering glance and her head was immediately back down again.

Turning her head around from the item on the TV, Jaida suddenly spoke up. “So, why hasn’t the PM actually spoken out about the refugee crisis anyway?”

Seemingly glad for a distraction, Bianca sighed. “It’s not without me trying. I’ve practically been on my hands and knees begging to get him to say something, anything, I don’t know. Even a whisper that sounds something vaguely like “refugees” but could actually just have been him saying “cheese” would be better than nothing. At least we could turn that into a fucking soundbite.”

“Surely he can’t stay silent forever?” Yvie snorted, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well, until he does speak I’m going to have to use all these fucking Ministers as sock puppets for the things I want him to say. That’s why I’m hoping this interview is going to go well, so that when Jackie is finished she’s going to be so well-loved by the public that they’ll hang off her every word. Hopefully by the time this interview ends, the PM might as well just be fucking redundant.”

“Shh! Guys!” Vanessa hissed, flapping one hand excitedly at the TV screen and holding on tightly to Brooke’s arm with the other.

Fuck, why did she need to do that?

“…joined by secretary of state for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship, Jackie Cox. Miss Cox, welcome,” Widow smiled at her, her face genuine and warm and making Brooke want to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hi Widow, it’s good to be here,” Jackie smiled back. She seemed at ease and pretty relaxed. Jan clearly hadn’t been bullshitting them.

“So, obviously today you’ve been subject to a lot of scrutiny, certainly online. Could you perhaps explain what happened to our viewers who may not know what it was that occurred?”

“Of course,” Jackie nodded, leaning forward a little in her seat. “I was basically given an interview by a journalist at The Daily Mail, which I thought would be covering my career and my policies and short term and long term goals- you know, things like that.”

Widow nodded sagely from her chair.

“It turned out- I didn’t know this at the time- but it turned out that the story was for the section of the website targeted at women. What basically happened was the journalist asking me questions that I didn’t think were in any way relevant to my status as a politician, as a secretary of state, as a Minister.”

“What sort of questions were those?” Widow asked, obviously knowing full well.

“Things such as what I kept in my handbag, if I was jealous of any other women in Westminster, if I had a boyfriend…that sort of thing,” Jackie explained, laughing a little humourlessly. Widow smiled.

“Now obviously we’re laughing but it’s an incredibly prevalent issue in the media at the moment- the underlying, often subtle sexism in the media directed to female politicians,” Widow frowned, Jackie animatedly sitting up in her chair and beginning to speak before Widow had even asked her a question.

“Well absolutely, and often it’s very blatant too! For example, the sort of language The Sun used when they wrote about Nina Flowers after it emerged that she wouldn’t stand in the by-election as she had suffered a miscarriage. Also a lot of the opposition’s leadership contest was shambolic in that sense as well. There were three women in the running so obviously every paper referred to it as a catfight, in fact I think The Star photoshopped the heads of all three candidates onto cats?” Jackie ranted, Widow just letting her speak and nodding repeatedly throughout. “Oh and lest we forget that infamous line from Nicky Doll; that Manila Luzon shouldn’t be the next leader of the opposition because she dresses like a blind ape throwing clothes around in a Primark. It’s really quite disheartening, Widow.”

“Absolutely, and all very relevant and indeed current examples you gave there,” Widow agreed enthusiastically. “So what sort of effect does this then have on women in politics- in fact, let me revise that. What sort of effect does this then have on women in general?”

Jackie paused to think over the question. “Well, the main issue I have is how this will affect kids. The way that boys will think it’s okay to talk about girls, the way that girls will think it’s okay to talk about each other. I mean, that entire opposition leadership contest was a chance to show the country the finest example of intelligent, strong women, and to see it reduced to a mud-slinging contest over who had the best hair and makeup was really quite insulting. It might put off women who want to enter politics if they think they run the risk of being talked about by both the media and other politicians alike in such a disparaging manner which has nothing to do with their policies at all.”

Widow nodded understandingly before asking the next question. “So going forward then- what would you personally like to see done to tackle this sort of behaviour from the media?”

“Well, I’d like a great big hamper and an apology from the Daily Mail,” Jackie joked, earning a genuine laugh from Widow. “No, in all seriousness, I’d just like them to think about what language they use. Today for example, the wording of that headline was just…it actually did leave me lost for words because it was blatant homophobia used in plain view of the public. A lot of the problem with the way things are reported is the language used to do so, so just that little bit more scrutiny can go a long way. This isn’t even just an issue exclusive to homophobia and sexism, often there’s so much language that’s shockingly racist or just plain bigoted too. Another thing I think everyone in politics should do is call media outlets out about things like this. I’m not saying women from opposing parties suddenly have to be the best of friends but if you notice someone else getting spoken about in such a way that’s degrading to women, even just fire off a simple tweet about it. Stuff like that gets noticed and if we all act together, it’ll eventually combat this kind of reporting in the media.”

Widow smiled and gave a sort of conclusive nod. “Jackie Cox- thank you.”

Vanessa almost leapt out of her chair with excitement. “Guys! That went so well! That couldn’t have gone any better at all! Right, Bianca?”

“She was certainly very eloquent. And she managed to smear the opposition without even noticing, I think. A win on both counts in my book,” Bianca gave a rare genuine smile, now immediately on her phone. Looking up, she nodded to everyone. “Right, my work here is done and so, I guess, is yours. You can all fuck off home if you like.”

Shrugging, Bianca turned around and made her way out of the department. Saying a quick goodbye Nina, Adore and Jaida all left to pack up their things too, leaving Scarlet, Yvie, Vanessa and Brooke all huddled around the TV. For a moment they were all silent, too tired or relieved to even speak. After a few seconds, Yvie broke the silence.

“Right. Pub?”

***

The bar was dimly lit, hues of red from the filtered lights giving a small amount of illumination to the corner that the girls had curled up in. Scarlet and Yvie were on the sofa against the wall, Yvie’s arm slung around her girlfriend’s skinny frame. Scarlet kept stifling yawns, indicating that she was flagging after their stressful day. Vanessa was their polar opposite, re-telling the story of Jackie’s interview with Shangela animatedly and frantically waving her arms. Jan had joined them and she was sat on the other sofa beside Brooke, smiling with amusement at Vanessa’s tipsy story-telling. Silky sounded as if her lungs were about to give out from laughter, her vodka cranberry swaying dangerously in her grip.

Silky was actually alright, Brooke mused. She was loud and crazy and talked more than she listened but as a mutual friend on a night out she wasn’t horrible. She’d greeted Brooke warmly enough, the two only having spoken briefly before tonight. Maybe Vanessa had been right. Silky just seemed like a standard working girl just trying to make it through to the weekend, who incidentally seemed pretty comfortable bitching about her boss and her other colleagues.

As Vanessa finished off her story, Silky took a long sip of her drink and leant back in her chair. “Good for Jackie, bitch! The Daily Mail needs taking down a peg or two anyway, it’s the fuckin’ worst. Between us girls, though? I would look out for your boss. Nicky is shook. She was not happy with Jackie’s lil’ dig at her in that interview and I feel like there might be some kinda storm brewing.”

Brooke and Vanessa shared a brief, concerned glance. Turning to Jan, Brooke noticed that she looked fearful and had reached out to grab Silky’s arm.

“Wait, what’s she planning?” Jan asked, clearly nervous. Silky simply raised her eyebrows, picking up her whiskey and swirling it around in her hand.

“Well hell, girl! I’d be damned if I know, I’m a civil servant! Do you think they tell me anything? Do they tell you anything?” she turned to Yvie and Scarlet, questioning her ruling party counterparts. Yvie let out a derisive laugh as an answer while Scarlet gave a sleepy shake of her head, clearly a hair’s breadth away from sleep or death (Brooke couldn’t tell which). Satisfied with their answer, Silky simply cast a hand to Brooke’s two colleagues and held it there, clearly satisfied at having made her point.

“If you hear anything though, Silk,” Vanessa insisted, knitting her brows together. Her friend simply cut her off before she could finish.

“Of course I’ll let you know. I am, after all, the ruling party’s unofficial corporate spy. Y’all can thank me later.”

Yvie and Scarlet clapped appreciatively and Silky gave a little bow. Brooke was still troubled by what she had told them, though. If the opposition did have a plan things probably weren’t looking good for the week ahead, least of all if Bob was behind it. Even if she was known as “the less savage Bianca”, Bob was cunning and sly and could wreak some severe havoc across the party. Having been the party’s spin doctor for some years now, she knew every trick in the book and paired with Nicky, her scheming advisors, and Asia (Nina’s opposite number), there certainly could be some amount of shitstorm brewing.

Some form of compere had taken to the “stage” beside the bar (a single dim halogen light, a microphone and one speaker) and was announcing the start of an open mic night. Silky’s face lit up excitedly as she leapt up from her chair, only to be immediately shoved back down again by Yvie.

“For the millionth time, you’re not doing an acoustic Whitney Houston greatest hits medley,” she said with a long-suffering shake of her head. A scraggy sort of guy with a long beard took to the spotlight.

“My name is Alex, and this one is called Wonderwall.”

Brooke’s entire table groaned.

“Fuck me senseless. I’m going for a cigarette,” Yvie announced, hurriedly escaping the bar.

“I’ll join you,” Brooke shrugged, the prospect of social smoking preferable to sitting through the inevitable dirge that was to come.

Bursting the door open and gasping a little as the cold air hit her bare arms, Brooke leant against the cold brick wall and sighed deeply. Lighting up, Yvie looked at her with a funny sort of smile.

“What?” Brooke asked.

“Nothing. Just wondering when you’re planning on telling Vanessa about that huge teen girl crush you have on her.”

Brooke’s insides dropped about 50 metres to the ground. Was it really that obvious? No- no, it couldn’t be obvious, because her so-called crush didn’t exist. What gave Yvie the right? She was jumping to stupid conclusions and just because she and Scarlet were happy together didn’t mean that love was all around them like some fucking Wet, Wet, Wet song. Keeping her face blank, Brooke simply looked Yvie in the eyes.

“The crush that doesn’t exist? Yeah I’m telling her tomorrow, we’ve got an appointment at 4.”

“Brooke, come on. You think I don’t recognise that behaviour? You look at her like you want to protect her, whenever she makes a joke you’re the first to laugh. You care about her more than anyone else, you’re more patient with her than you are with any of us. Whenever anything goes down at work, you’re the first to make sure she’s okay. Just admit it. You’ll feel better.”

“Yvie, I know it might be hard for you to get your head round and I know you can barely see because of the fucking hearts blocking the way of your pupils…but I’m not interested in Vanessa,” Brooke scowled. For a second she regretted it. Yvie was clearly only trying to help, but what exactly was she going to do? Brooke wasn’t about to ruin things with Vanessa or ruin the atmosphere in the workplace by admitting that…admitting what? There was nothing to admit.

Smirking, Yvie stubbed out her cigarette on the wall and dropped it to the ground. “Alright, well. Keep telling yourself that. See how far it gets you.”

As she walked back inside, Brooke instead tipped her head back against the cold, damp bricks and exhaled shakily. She was doing fine on her own, she didn’t need anyone, but the more Brooke thought about it the more she considered the differences between need and want. Every thought she had seemed to be followed up by Yvie’s voice, now warped and mocking in her head. Keep telling yourself that. Tearing a hand through her hair Brooke looked up to the dark sky, feeling momentarily like she wanted to pray.

Instead, she turned and walked back inside the bar.

Returning to her seat, she found the girls all laughing uproariously at something Silky had said. She was still talking, all excited and hyped up, and even though she commanded the attention of everyone at the table Brooke still found her eyes being drawn to Vanessa, Yvie’s words playing in her mind. She was smiling at Silky; the glitter dusted onto her cheekbones, the shine of her hair, and the gloss on her lips catching the light. She looked happy and carefree and gorgeous. Just then, Vanessa’s gaze was on her, and Brooke was caught having been looking at her first. Snapping her gaze to the floor, Brooke felt around the table for her vodka and coke and gripped it with one white-knuckled hand. Feeling her heart race inside her chest and wiping the sweat away from one hand on her leggings, two things became clearer to Brooke than ever before.

Yvie was right, and she was completely and utterly fucked.

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cuthian · 5 years ago

Text

Dancing in the Rain Chapter Three

Next Chapter, darlings.

Things are going to happen and happen faster from hereon out. Please keep checking the tags, and if you have any concerns, please shoot me a message!

Eternal thanks to @juuls for putting up with me.

Love, Annaelle

Chapter Three

PROJECT PHOENIX PHASE 1 PROGRESS REPORT

REPORT OF MEDICAL EXAMINATION OF TEST SUBJECT

NAME BARNES, REBECCA AGE 23 RACE CAUCASIAN SEX FEMALE

DATE OF FIRST INJECTION APRIL 20, 2008

DATE OF EXAMINATION MAY 26, 2008 EXAMINED BY ELISA SINCLAIR

CONDITION OF THE SUBJECT BEFORE FIRST INJECTION (DAY 0) EYES BLUE HAIR BROWN WEIGHT 67 KG LENGTH 173 CM

CONDITION OF THE SUBJECT AFTER FIRST INJECTION (DAY 38)

EYES BLUE HAIR BROWN WEIGHT 70 KG LENGTH 176 CM

MARKS AND WOUNDS (HEALING FACTOR)

—LAST INFLICTED INJURIES 48 HOURS AGO—

THREE BROKEN RIBS IN REMODELING STAGE OF HEALING (HEALING STAGE WEEK 6) – INDICATION OF ACCELERATED HEALING IN MINOR FORM

CLEAN BREAK IN FEMUR OF LEFT LEG (HEALING STAGE WEEK 3) – INDICATION OF ACCELERATED HEALING IN MINOR FORM

ONE DEEP PENETRATIVE WOUND ON UPPER ARM IN PROLIFERATIVE STAGE OF HEALING – FURTHER INDICATOR OF ACCELERATED HEALING IN MINOR FORM

SEVERAL MINOR PENETRATIVE WOUNDS ACROSS UPPER TORSO AND LEGS IN PROLIFERATIVE STAGE OF HEALING – FURTHER INDICATOR OF ACCELERATED HEALING IN MINOR FORM

CHAFE WOUNDS ON ANKLES AND WRISTS IN VARIOUS STAGES OF HEALING – FURTHER INDICATOR OF ACCELERATED HEALING IN MINOR FORM

RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FURTHER EXPERIMENTATION

SUBJECT IS SUITABLE TO PROCEED TO PHASE TWO OF PROJECT PHOENIX

MOVE SUBJECT TO SECONDARY BASE FOR INTERACTION WITH THE WINTER SOLDIER AND FURTHER CONDITIONING

DATE MAY 26, 2008 SIGNATURE ELISA SINCLAIR

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Tony Stark’s Personal Lab, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, United States of America

30 April 2016Steve

Steve sat on a chair in the far corner of Tony’s lab, arms wrapped around his torso as he watched the others file into the lab. They’d spent most of the night combing through the data J.A.R.V.I.S. had collected and had, together, decided that it was in everyone’s best interest to call in the rest of the team to share what they’d found.

What they’d possibly found.

Steve understood why Tony… why Wanda thought that the terrorist group they’d been chasing might be Hydra. He saw the same patterns they did, he saw the kind of brutal effectiveness and zealotry that he’d only seen during the war in Hydra, and he saw.

He saw what Wanda meant when she had described her and Pietro’s experience with them, when she had talked about how they’d been meant to become tools to shape the coming century, to sow chaos so humanity would see they needed a strong hand to guide them. It sounded like things Schmidt would have said, like justifications Zola would have spouted for his sick human experiments—

He understood.

That didn’t mean he agreed.

There was nearly no direct evidence, nothing that pointed towards Hydra directly—no double salutes, no glowing blue weapons or secret bases with scarily advanced technology—nothing but rumors of misconduct, suspicious disappearances and something that, he had to admit, didn’t really add up with anything else.

Still, it was hard to believe that Hydra could’ve survived all this time—

That all he’d done would’ve been in vain.

“Why’re we here, Tony?” Becca asked when she walked in, rubbing her hand lightly over her belly. Thor followed her closely, waiting until she had taken a seat to press in behind her, letting her lean back against him. Natasha and Wanda were still sitting on one of the lab tables, leaning against each other tiredly, and Pietro was bouncing on his toes beside them.

Bruce and Tony were both wandering around the lab, tinkering and chatting distractedly.

“We should wait for Sharon, shouldn’t we?” said Tony questioningly, dropping the wrench he had been waving around for the last thirty minutes. “I mean, we’ve agreed to start trusting her, right? She’s gonna be our Becca for at least six months, she should be brought into the loop, shouldn’t she?”

Becca shook her head. “Sharon’s pretty sick, she’s not gonna be in today. Sore throat, ugly coughing, stuff like that. Brock called this morning, said he’s gonna take her to a doctor and let us know.” She leaned back into Thor again and winced a little, rubbing her hand over the side of her stomach where, Steve assumed, the baby had delivered a particularly hard kick.

“Okay,” Tony said. Then, “I have doctors on retainer for my staff. She could come here.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Becca said dryly. “Now why are we here?”

Tony heaved a sigh and spun on his heel, gesturing wildly at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help but smile, despite the grave subject. He pushed up, off his chair, and leaned against the table Nat and Wanda were sitting on. “We found something,” he said. “Well… Wanda and Nat found something.”

“Full disclosure,” Natasha said slowly, “We’re not a hundred percent sure, but…”

“We think Hydra might not be as dead and gone as we thought after all,” Tony blurted—again, Christ, Tony—before wincing and clapping his hand over his mouth again, like he had the previous night when he’d told Steve.

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away as a deafening silence rang in the lab.

“I—what?!” Becca sputtered, eyes wide.

Thor leaned forward. “This is a very serious claim,” he said calmly, although his forehead was creased with concern. “Steven has told me much about these foes. If they are truly undefeated…” He did not finish, but he didn’t need to—the implication of Hydra’s return hung heavy in the air.

“We never knew what they were called,” Pietro said, and Wanda shook her head. “All we knew was that they lied to us,” she said, rubbing her fingers over the scars Steve knew lay hidden beneath her long sleeves. “They took many like us; willing, young… foolish. Others…” She bit her lip and chanced a glance at Steve. “Perhaps not so willing.”

“Regardless,” Steve said, and he hated that his voice was hoarse and unsteady. “We’re not sure that it’s Hydra, but we’re sure it’s something. And it goes up high. What we’ve found indirectly implicates senators, actors, ambassadors… even the World Security Council. We already knew this was bigger than them trying to frame Sharon, but…”

He sighed.

“This is much bigger than we anticipated.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. helpfully projected digital copies of the files they’d managed to collect in front of the others, and Steve watched as everyone began to sift through the collected documents and articles in there, every single one of them paling significantly as they did.

Steve knew the feeling.

Bruce looked faintly green around the edges, and Steve would be more concerned about him potentially hulking out if he didn’t have more faith in Bruce’s self-control. “What are we going to do?” Bruce choked. “What can we do?”

“Steve,” Becca said slowly, trembling fingers hovering over the digital file, “Why is my—the—why am I in here?”

“There seems to have been more to the attack that took out your squad than we thought,” Tony answered for him, voice gentle as he approached his godsister. His voice and expression were haunted. “There’s been a lot of suspicious activity around there since then too, and it just keeps happening. And…” He hesitated, looking to Steve helplessly.

Steve sighed and moved towards Becca, settling on the seat beside her and taking one of her hands in his. “We found files, detailing… detailing torture and experimentation that sounds a lot like what was done to you while Al ’Qaeda had you.”

Becca looked downright nauseated. “So you think it was Hydra?” she choked. “That they experimented on me?”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “No. I mean, I don’t know. I just know that there might’ve been more to it than we originally thought. Than you might’ve thought.”

Becca swallowed thickly.

Thor rested a hand on her shoulder, rubbing a thumb over the tense line of her shoulder soothingly. Becca didn’t relax, per se, but she did exhale roughly. “Okay,” she said quietly. “So what else do we have? What are we doing? What’s our next step?”

“We need more intel,” Natasha said simply. “Steve got an invitation to a gala in a few days where a lot of the potentially incriminated ambassadors will be. We’re especially looking to talk to Julien Beckers,” she pulled up a picture of a sandy-haired man in a suit and a tie and continued, “the Belgian Minister of Foreign Affairs. He’s implicated in a lot of shady stuff, and apparently loose-lipped when plied with enough alcohol.”

Bruce frowned. “That seems like a pretty poor quality for someone involved with shady stuff.”

Tony nodded vigorously and pointed at Bruce. “And that’s why he doesn’t drink at public functions. The trick will be to get him drunk without him knowing, without arousing his suspicions.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s easy enough to arrange. All we need to do is sneak someone into the serving staff and make sure there’s some kind of undetectable drugging agent in his drink.” He frowned. “It’d probably help if someone was distracting him too.”

Natasha nodded. “Which is where Steve comes in,” she said. “And…” she looked towards Becca. “You, if you and Thor feel comfortable with it.”

Becca blinked. “Me?” she said, pointing at herself quizzically. “But I’m pregnant.”

“Yes,” Natasha nodded. “Which is why no one would suspect us of actually running an op if you’re there. No self-respecting first world country would put their visibly, famously pregnant agent on an active op in the field.”

“With good reason,” Thor said, frowning severely.

“She wouldn’t be in danger,” Steve put in immediately. “I’d be with her the entire time, and we’re just going to a party to talk to someone.” He looked at Thor seriously, imploringly. “I’d never put her in danger, Thor. Either of them.”

“She is right here,” Becca said impatiently. “And I can speak for myself.”

Steve abruptly looked at his best friend and winced. He had been out of sorts since Tony had told him about… about all of this, and so busy trying to figure this out that he’d just… forgotten Becca was sitting right in front of him and wasn’t going to let anyone—even Thor—tell her what to do.

“Sorry,” he said shortly. “I’m sorry. If you think you’re up for it, I could use your help.”

Becca looked at him intently, and he just barely managed not to squirm beneath her gaze before she asked, quietly, “And… you’re sure it’s safe? That nothing will happen?”

“As sure as we can be,” he nodded. “And Clint will be right with us, he can get to us faster than anyone should something go wrong.”

Natasha nodded intently, and Becca looked a little more reassured by that.

She looked up at Thor, questioning, and Steve looked away abruptly.

He’d… he’d been able to communicate with Bucky by just looking at him too, and he… while he was doing good, he still wasn’t great at watching someone else have what he’d lost.

“I’ll do it,” Becca said.

Steve swallowed thickly and nodded. “Okay.” He looked up at Tony. “Well. What’s next?”

Tony clapped his hands gleefully. “Shopping!”

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

INTERNAL MEMO “The Thule Society Future Debates: Results and Actions”

SESSION NOVEMBER 1991 VOLUME 1

COUNCIL OF REPRESENTATIVES OF CONTINENTAL FACTIONS

Monday, November 30, 1991

ASIA

The dissolution of the U.S.S.R. seems imminent. Local chapters of the Society have prepared for all eventualities and are imprinting new codes and failsafes into each of the Widows to ensure the continued longevity of the program.

EUROPE

The Society has gained foothold in Belgium after the general elections – traditional Christian parties and Socialist parties have lost significant amounts of seats in the House of Representatives to Society sponsored party Vlaams Blok.

Society partners are now hopeful to continue to gain access to several international agencies through their now established foothold in Belgian parliament.

AFRICA

Society groups have successfully destabilised government in Somalia and are currently feeding into the established chaos to continue spreading civil war into the surrounding nations.

NORTH AMERICA

The North American Society has learned of a potential opportunity to obtain the serum needed to proceed with Project Phoenix, provided a suitable genetic match for the Soldier can be obtained.

Recalibration and conditioning of the Soldier has been successful thus far – the Soldier will be sent to eliminate all targets and retrieve the serum. The Soldier’s new handler has assured the North American Society the incident from ’79 will not be repeated.

If proved successful, further responsibilities will be assigned.

Common Floor of the Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York City, U.S.A.

3 p.m., 2

April 2016Steve

“I hate this,” Steve said glumly, staring down at himself with all the air of a defeated man.

Becca snorted a laugh from her seat at the vanity, where Natasha was doing something complicated to her hair. She was already fully dressed, the one-shoulder dark blue gown she’d picked achieving the exact effect they were hoping for—she looked soft and unthreatening, but had a gun strapped to her thigh and a knife to her ankle, and Steve was pretty sure he’d heard Natasha mention something about narcotics hidden in the pearls in her necklace. “Don’t be dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes at him in the mirror. “I’ve seen you wear much worse than a bespoke suit, Rogers.”

Steve pouted. “It’s just so…” He ran his hands down the soft fabric of the waistcoat. “Fancy. Expensive. I think this suit cost enough to have fed Bucky’s entire family for a month when we were kids.”

Becca shook her head at him and Tony, who had just entered the room, barked a laugh. “Far be it for me to break your socialist little heart, Cap,” he joked, “but you’ll stand out more if you’re less fancy.”

Steve glowered at him but accepted his fate and sat on the large pouf to tie his ridiculously shiny, dark leather shoes. Thor, who had been mostly silent through the entire process, chuckled at Steve’s reticence and pronounced, “I think you look rather dashing, my friend. Shame you could not be adorned in the Aesir formal wear I had fashioned for you, but… This will do.” Steve wrinkled his nose and Thor laughed, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder companionably. “You cut an impressive figure, and you will do very well to escort my Rebecca to the gala tonight.”

Becca beamed at him from where she sat on her stool, Natasha’s hands still buried in her hair, twisting it onto the top of her head in a complicated mess of intricate braids and loose curls.

Steve grinned lightly and shook his head. He thought he may actually have felt more comfortable in the formal wear Thor had fashioned for each of the Avengers—he was far more used to standing out due to ostentatious and unconventional clothing than due to well-tailored and hideously expensive clothing—but he’d been outvoted.

“Plus, it’ll be a great opportunity to listen in on what Julien Beckers has to say,” Tony pointed out. “If he really is in with Hydra—or whatever it is,” he conceded when Steve made a protesting noise, “he might slip up if we get him drunk enough.”

“What if he switches to Dutch when he’s drunk though?” Steve pointed out reasonably. “I know a little, but mostly curse words and directions.”

Tony snorted derisively and waved his hand lightly. “J.A.R.V.I.S. is programmed into the comms units, so he’ll provide translations if you need any.” He frowned at Steve and added, “I can’t believe you thought I didn’t think of that. I’m hurt, Steven, hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved his hand dismissively and slipped into his suit jacket. He moved to stand in front of the full-length mirror and looked at himself, rubbing his fingers over the light stubble that he’d uncertainly not shaved today. Natasha had insisted, said it made him look less threatening, less All-American goody-two-shoes, and Steve had long since learned not to question her.

He looked… polished. Older.

Not like himself at all.

Becca sidled up next to him, her dress falling over the swell of her belly in smooth, soft folds of dark blue fabric, hair piled on her head in a mess of braids and curls, and she leaned against him playfully, linking their arms together and grinning at him in the mirror.

“We look good, Rogers,” she grinned. “We’re gonna nail this bastard.”

Steve smiled tightly. “Absolutely,” he agreed.

She was right. All they had to do was get in, get some guy drunk, and get back out.

Easy peasy.

They had this.

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

CBS News (@CBSNews) 2 min.

BREAKING: Fire Breaks Out at The Liberty Warehouse in Brooklyn, leaving dozens of guests of the Schliemann Fundraiser Gala outside in the cold! Follow developments here: cbsn.ws/5Ght67

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The Liberty Warehouse, Red Hook, Brooklyn, New York City, U.S.A.

9:47p.m., 2 April 2016Steve

The fire alarm was still blaring by the time first responders arrived and began ushering frightened, drenched guests dressed in expensive—and now ruined—silks and satins away from the terrace, out into the street and towards the awaiting ambulances. Most were clustered together in little groups, whispering frantically, pointing their phones at the broken glass on the sidewalk and the smoke billowing out from the windows nearest to the second-floor balcony.

Steve stood amidst the chaos and blinked, confused—unsure about what had happened.

Everything—everything had gone so fast.

One minute, he had been dancing with Beckers’ date, trying very hard not to tread on her toes, while Becca chatted happily with the man and plied him with specially developed alcohol provided by Clint, and the and the next, the fire alarm had been pulled, water was spritzing everywhere and he had lost Becca in the urgent throng of people.

He couldn’t see Clint either, but he knew the archer could take care of himself, even though he was somewhat of a human dumpster fire most of the time.

He frowned a little as he moved through the crowd of gossiping partygoers, glancing left and right to try to find Becca. His suit was uncomfortably wet, chafing against his skin as he walked—even his socks were wet—and he really just wanted to find Becca so he could call Happy to take them back to the Tower.

He wasn’t worried about her or about them getting separated—it made some sense.

When the alarm went off, he’d been on the dance floor and had gotten swept out the west fire exit with a group of others who’d been on the dance floor, while he presumed the people at the bar had been led out of the north exit.

He just needed to find someone who knew where the groups of evacuees that had been at the bar had been sent, so that he could find Becca.

The loud blaring of the fire alarm, coupled with the ringing sirens of emergency services, were loud enough to drown out anything Clint or Becca might’ve tried to say to him over the comms, and there’d been something about the building that interfered with their connection in the first place, so he couldn’t even call her, anyway.

A little annoyed, he pulled his phone from his pocket. He exhaled in relief when he noticed he had full bars, and he could text her despite whatever was blocking their comms; although he didn’t expect a response immediately—her phone was in her purse, and Steve wasn’t sure if she’d have thought to grab it off the bar when they were being ushered outside.

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he told himself sternly as he walked around the building slowly, coming across several more groups of guests, none of which contained Becca. ‘She’ll be somewhere around the corner, chatting up Beckers like nothing’s wrong.’

Besides, he reasoned, it wasn’t like she’d activated any of the distress signals Tony had built into her bracelet, earrings, or shoes.

There was probably a really good reason he hadn’t found her yet.

Maybe she was running around the building trying to find him.

Maybe she’d been taken into an ambulance because she was pregnant, to be checked for smoke inhalation, to make sure everything was okay.

He’d find her.

He rounded another corner and breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Beckers, facing Steve and talking to a woman with messy dark hair and a long, one-shoulder dress, who stood with her back to Steve.

Becca.

He exhaled sharply in relief and rushed forward, grasping at the woman’s shoulder and turning her around. “Becca,” he said in a rush, “I’ve been looking everywhere—”

He stopped short as the woman, who was taller than Becca, now that he looked closer, and very much not pregnant, blinked at him in surprise. “Sorry,” he said in an exhale, letting go of her immediately. “I thought you were…” He turned to Beckers, who was also regarding him with wide eyes, and demanded, “You were talking to my friend, earlier, before the alarm. Have you seen her? Did she come outside with you?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Beckers replied, looking convincingly puzzled. “She went to the bathroom shortly before the alarm went off, said something about the baby standing on her bladder. I didn’t see her again. Perhaps she is with another group?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, breathless, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, probably.”

He turned away and looked around, feeling a little helpless when he still didn’t see her. His hands were trembling a little as he pulled out his phone again.

The message he’d sent to Becca was still unread.

“Fuck,” he said softly, before thumbing through his contacts until he found the one labelled ‘Sugar Daddy’—Tony thought he was funny—and pressed call.

“Spangles,” Tony crowed when he picked up. “What’s going on? Leave it up to you to ruin a perfectly good party by setting the building on fire, honestl—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted impatiently. “Look, I’m—I’m probably overreacting. It’s pretty chaotic out here, but can you… Can you just have J.A.R.V.I.S. ping Becca’s tracker? I can’t find her, and… God, maybe we’re both trying to find each other and keep missing each other, but—for my peace of mind, can you just—”

“Yeah,” Tony said, and Steve could tell he was trying to sound calm. “Yeah, I got this.”

It only took a few seconds, but in those few seconds, the blaring fire alarm finally cut out, and Steve’s ears were ringing in the silence, his own breath absurdly loud in his ears, before Tony said, “Cap… Steve. Her trackers are all offline.”

The bottom of his stomach fell away.

There wasn’t a way to accidentally disable the subdermal trackers—they had to be cut out and smashed.

“Call in everyone,” he told Tony automatically, unthinkingly, swerving around to survey the crowd again, trying to see if Clint—probably still in disguise—was among them. “I’ll get Clint, we'll canvas the building and the streets, then get back to the Tower ASAP. Maybe she’s just… just around somewhere, or in the building still.”

“Steve,” Tony said, voice low and distressed, and Steve’s stomach twisted.

“I know,” he said shortly. “I know. Get the others.”

“Yeah,” Tony said shakily. “Yeah.”

He hung up and Steve looked around again. How the hell had this night gone so wrong so fast? And who the hell would want to kidnap Becca, of all people, at a gala with a guest list filled with foreign dignitaries and New York’s rich and famous?

And, Steve swallowed thickly, what would they do to her?

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

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Dancing in the Rain:

(1) (2)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

#stucky #Stucky fanfic #Bucky barnes #Steve rogers #Thor #Rebecca Barnes #avengers family #Lisa writes #dancing in the rain #IHWSBY sequel #my writing

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