#or going out and meeting with the soldiers who are going around blaring an evacuation notice

[mariatesstruther]

thinking abt the maria’s outbreak night. having many thoughts

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Perchance to Dream

For @whumptober2020

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

Summary: Steve knows something is very wrong. An outbreak of some sort. Something out of Hollywood’s worst nightmare.

Read on Ao3 

Week One

“What’s going on up there?”

Traffic is one thing. Perfectly commonplace in Brooklyn especially, but this is utterly ridiculous, even Steve agrees. This bumper to bumper, stop and go madness is just out of control. 

“I dunno,” he answers Bucky’s question. “It looks like they’re making everyone turn back around.”

“But why?” Bucky asks. “Is there something going on today? A parade or something?”

Steve chuckles as he inches the car forward. “You know as much as I do, babe.” 

It's unusual but it has happened before. Something big going on that redirects traffic that the neighborhood isn't made aware of. Rare. But then, The City of New York isn't always known for its efficiency. 

When the pull up to where traffic is being turned, however, it's not normal traffic cops. It's not even the NYPD. It's the military. National Guard, Steve thinks.

"Turn back that way!" yells the man in front of them. Dressed in full riot gear. "Just follow the detour!"

Rolling down the window, Steve doesn’t intend on giving them a hard time. He’s just curious about whatever’s happening. As a former captain of the army, Steve is familiar with military procedure and now that he’s a paramedic, maybe he can help. He’s sure Bucky, the former sergeant of the 107th, won’t mind lending a hand either, if they need it. 

“Is there any way we can help, private?” Steve asks after he explains who they are. “Is anyone hurt?”

Before answering, either to turn them away like everyone else or wave them in through the barricade, he looks over his shoulder. When he glances back at Steve again, he looks rather dismayed. Both Steve and Bucky know damn well that whatever he’s about to say, even if it’s virtually nothing, it’ll be against protocol. He’s supposed to be directing traffic away from the area. Not answering anything. 

“We’re not entirely sure,” he says. “We’ve just been told to clear the area. If I were you, I’d get home and get in touch with any officers you might still have an in with.”

That’s all he says on the matter before straightening back up again and waving them along like everyone else. It’s enough for Steve, though. If a soldier, trained not to divulge anything, gave them just that nugget of information, it means something big is about to happen. 

They follow the soldier’s advice as soon as they get home. Steve immediately tries calling his contacts. He starts with Peggy who confirms that something really is happening. 

“I don’t have the details yet,” she says. “But we’re mobilizing all over the country.”

On the television, Bucky’s turned on the news. There’s nothing out of the ordinary on it right now. The typical stories. The weather. Some crimes. Financial changes. Only a few reports about a possible rabies outbreak throughout a few major cities. 

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“Just that the CDC and WHO have been flooded with calls and reports about an outbreak of some unknown virus.” There are a lot of things happening on Peggy’s end and she lowers her voice. “Keep watching the news,” she says, “but they’re not getting the full report. I’ll call you when I have more information.”

The call goes dead then, and Peggy’s never ended a call so abruptly before. Even when in a rush, she always says her farewell. Just a simple, “Good bye, darling,” and a kissy noise. 

The way she hurried now, the stress and worry in her voice, it makes Steve’s stomach flatten. 

“What’d she say?” 

Bucky, who left the room to grab himself an apple, tosses one to Steve as he plops down on the couch. 

“Um…” Steve shakes his head. “I…”

The lack of response has Bucky paying closer attention to him now. The worry is clear on his face.

“What is it?” he asks. “Is it serious?”

“I…dunno. She couldn’t say.”

“Well…that doesn’t sound good.” He glances at the television. Just a story about a woman being found with multiple animal bites this afternoon in Connecticut. “Did you call Rhodey?”

“Um, no. I was about to do that now.”

Steve’s already scrolling through his contacts for the right one. When he gets to the right one, he hits send and lets it ring and ring and ring until he gets the voicemail. Normally, no one bothers with voicemails -- a simple text will suffice -- but things feel off enough that he does.

“H-hey, Rhodes, it’s Steve. I…um, just…call me. When you can.” 

But Rhodey doesn’t call back.

And he doesn’t answer when Steve tries again an hour later. Or when he calls again an hour after that. Or the three times after that. 

In fact, it’s a little after three in the morning when they hear from anyone. 

Both Steve and Bucky are asleep on the couch. They passed out together watching the news. Looking for anything that might clue them in to what’s happening. Nothing helped.

But the phone ringing startles Steve awake, and since Bucky’s lying on top of him, it jerks him awake as well. It takes Steve a moment to realize what’s happening and when he sees who’s calling, his eyes go wide.

“Rhodey?” he answers, hoping to keep the panic from his voice. “Rhodey, is that--”    

“Steve, I need you to listen to me and listen closely,” Rhodey says, hurried and low. “Do not interrupt. I can only say this once. Containment didn’t work. This thing is going to spread like a fucking brush fire. You and Bucky pack up bags right now, only what you need, and have them by the door. They’re gonna quarantine in quadrants first and when…if that fails, they’ll try to evacuate the cities. When that happens, just go. Do not wait. Whatever you do, do not let them bite you. I’ll be in touch if I can.” 

“Wait, wh…Rhodey…” 

“One more thing,” Rhodey says. “Go for the head.” 

The line goes dead then and Steve’s heart begins to pound. All that urgency, the god-awful fear in Rhodey’s voice, it makes Steve’s blood run cold. 

“Steve?” Bucky places a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What is it? What’d he say?”

Steve looks at the phone still clenched in his hand before flicking his gaze to meet Bucky’s. 

“He said,” Steve whispers, “we have to pack.” 

Week Two

There are two bags by the front door, packed and ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Just like Rhodey said, they’ve been quarantined in a four block radius since two days after they spoke. Steve hasn’t heard a word from either Rhodey or Peggy since. 

Martial law has been declared for two weeks now and the military is patrolling in full force. Always in riot gear. On foot or in tanks. Always armed. There’s a strict curfew being enforced. Each zone has been sectioned off with barbed wire blockades that are manned around the clock. There are snipers on every other rooftop. Sirens blare all day and night. 

Of course, people are coming up with their own reasons for what happened. Obviously, it has to be terrorism. The number one excuse for more racism. Even with absolutely no evidence to support their claims. 

Lots of theories have been floating around. Everything from bioterrorism to some sort of super bug to the start of World War Three. It’s hard to keep track of facts versus conspiracies since the internet keeps crashing. The phone lines keep going in and out as well. Steve doesn’t know if that’s being done in order to cut off communication or if it’s just a side effect of whatever’s happening. He assumes it’s the former and can only hope it’s the latter. 

Restrictions are even tighter come sundown. No exceptions. Nobody is even permitted to sit outside on their stoops or in their yards. Once the sun sets, everybody is ordered indoors. Helicopters pointing spotlights down over everything circle all night.

The news is only somewhat helpful and, Steve’s sure, being censored as well. Every hour on the hour there’s an emergency broadcast. All other stations are not in service. Steve keeps in mind what Peggy told him. To keep watching but to remember that they don’t have all the information.

And what little information they’ve been providing is sketchy at best. 

“This is Elizabeth Brandt.” Steve can hear the television from the kitchen where he’s making lunch for Bucky and himself. Canned soup. “Coming to you live to bring you this important news bulletin.” 

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky calls from the living room. “News is back on!”

“I’m coming,” Steve murmurs as he heads back into the living room where Bucky’s waiting on the couch. “Anything new?”

“Mm-mm.” Bucky gets up to offer Steve help. Takes one of the bowls. “Just something about the hospitals being filled to capacity.” 

Every news report that comes on has information scrolling at the bottom of the screen. Today, it’s about insurance rates expecting to spike over seventy-five percent in the next coming weeks. 

“We are receiving unconfirmed reports right now,” the newscaster says, “of seemingly random acts of violences and mass murder that have occurred in some major cities. We will continue to bring you live updates as this story unfolds.” 

“Jesus,” Bucky whispers. “Mass murder? How did we go from rabies to mass murder?” 

“People are scared,” Steve offers. “They might be panicking.”

“The violence I can understand. I mean, I’m fucking scared and we have a little more information.” A tremble flies up Steve’s spine. That’s the first time Bucky’s said anything about being scared. At least Steve’s not the only one. “But mass murder? People being violent because they’re scared and mass murder are two different things. Don’t you think?”  

Steve, taking a spoonful of soup and burning his tongue in the process, nods. He knows Bucky’s right, but despite his fear and worry, he’s still trying to stay positive. 

“It’s the media,” Steve says. “Maybe they’re exaggerating.” 

The look Bucky gives him, slightly amused but also doubtful, makes Steve smile. He knows that Bucky knows he’s just reaching for answers or excuses. 

“You’re adorable, Rogers,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I hope you know that.”

Steve chuckles. “Why?”

Head against Steve’s shoulder, Bucky uses his free hand to caress Steve’s thigh. 

“Because even during the apocalypse you look for the bright side.” Bucky hums softly. “I love you for that.”

“Well, I think that’s a compliment, so I’ll take it.” Steve grins softly. “And I love you, too.”

If anyone could make Steve smile during this, it’d be Bucky. At least they have each other. 

Week Three

The only time either Steve or Bucky sleep in their bed anymore is when they take quick naps during the day. When at least one of them is awake. Always ready to watch the news when the television comes back on the air. If it’s not, there’s just a Please Stand By screen. Sometimes colorbars and a high-pitched ringing. 

At night, they sleep on the couch together. When they can both sleep. Which is not that often.

Right now, Bucky is sleeping with his head in Steve’s lap. Steve has been dozing a little, but he can’t fall into a deep slumber. Not with Bucky out like a light. He deserves some sleep and Steve enjoys this little moment of peace when he can just run his hair over Bucky’s head and pretend like nothing else is happening in the world.

Steve’s actually nodding off a bit when Elizabeth Brandt is on the screen again. 

“Good evening,” she says, “for those of you who are just tuning in…” Steve wonders if she really needs to say that every time they come back on. He can’t imagine there’s anyone who isn’t at least paying a little attention. “We are going to try to remain on the air for the remainder of this crisis.”

Across the screen, as usual, are mini-stories scrolling by. Steve tries to follow along as they do.

A family of five has been found dead in Jacksonville, Florida. Police have described the victims as having been…”torn apart” by their attackers. 

“There have been wide-spread attacks,” Ms. Brandt continues, “all across the country, by what are being described “rabid people” in a “trance-like state”. 

Military forces have deployed to every major city to cope with the drastic increase in crime and violence. 

“Now, whatever this is, the phenomenon does not appear to be limited to the United States. We’re receiving reports of similar cases coming in from cities all around the world. We still have no specific answers as to why this is happening. Reports range from a germ or a virus with a mind altering effect or possibly some sort of chemical spill causing or a behavioral disorder causing mass hysteria.”

Over a dozen bodies have been found in what police are calling a ‘mass grave’ were found with severe ‘bite marks’ in various parts of the body.

“The president has issued a statement urging all people to stay in their homes and lock their doors until the situation is handled.”

The station reverts back to the stand-by screen and Steve’s stomach hurts. He’s somehow both too hot and too cold at the same time. He briefly considers waking Bucky to tell him these updates, but decides against it. 

“Sleep, my love,” he whispers. “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Bucky shifts a bit, his nose wiggling and fingers scratching at something on his cheek. 

Steve smiles and then checks his phone. All the unanswered messages. He hasn’t heard from Peggy or Rhodey in almost two weeks and what he did get was a few words at most. 

Reminders to be ready. 

To be alert.

Pay attention. 

Sighing, Steve puts the phone down and rests his head on the back of the couch, hoping to get a little rest.

Week Four

Steve jerks awake to a high-pitched ringing. Sun is streaming in through the bedroom windows, the curtains pushed open. It takes him a few moments to realize what the noise is and that he’s actually slept through the night. 

Steve flings the blankets away and hurries out of the bedroom to see Bucky seated at the very edge of the couch just staring at the television. There’s no one there. It’s just a message. A message from the Emergency Broadcast System. And it says nothing about this being just a test. 

We interrupt our program at the request of local authorities. This is the Emergency Broadcast System. All normal broadcasting has been discontinued during this emergency. This station will continue broadcasting, furnishing news, official information and instructions, as soon as possible for the Extended Operational area. 

As Steve approaches the couch, he notices that Bucky’s breaths are hitched. He’s chewing on his nails -- an old nervous habit of his -- and bouncing his knee. There’s a tear rolling down his cheek. 

When Steve slips a hand over Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky gasps and spins his way. He clearly tries to wipe those tears away before Steve cans them and fakes a smile.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“N-no. You didn’t. I just…” Bucky shakes his head and huffs a chuckle. “I just didn’t hear you.” 

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.” 

Steve nearly topples over at that. He had no idea how late it was. He hasn’t slept that much in weeks. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Bucky offers a soft grin. This one, Steve believes, is genuine, and that gives him a sense of peace, however small. 

“Why don’t you ever wake me?” he asks. “Probably for the same reason.” 

Nodding, because Steve can’t really argue with that logic, he comes around to sit with Bucky. As soon as he sits, Bucky scoots a little closer. Steve takes his hand. Bucky squeezes. 

“What’s happened?” Steve asks. “Something new?”

“No. They went out about an hour ago.” He gestures to the television. “It’s been like that since.”

Both their cellphones are on the coffee table. Steve reaches for his but figures he already knows the answer to this one.

“They’re still out, too,” Bucky says as Steve clears his screen. They’ve been keeping them charged, of course. Just in case. But the cell service has been out since last week. “Internet, too.”

The no service icon on Steve’s phone still gives him chills. The last time he spoke to someone on it was two weeks ago. When Rhodey called to say that things are going downhill. 

That’s when Steve agreed to take out their weapons. While both he and Bucky agree that gun control needs to be better enforced, they’re still armed. A leftover effect from combat, maybe. The need to feel protected and able to protect each other. 

They don’t have a militia worth of weapons or anything. Just the standard, really. Things for survival. Dehydrated food. Bottled water. First Aid kits. Really, the two of them can survive for a few months completely off the grid. It’s just that…well, they don’t really want to. 

“Hey,” Steve whispers when Bucky starts staring at the television again. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” When Steve covers the top of Bucky’s hand with his, Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “I’m, uh…I’m starting to get really scared.” 

“I know.” Steve nods. “So am I.”

“I don’t fuckin’ like this, Steve. They fucking roll up in their armored cars and tanks and start patrolling the streets, claiming it’s for our safety, but they won’t tell us what’s wrong. No wonder people are pissed.” 

Pissed is actually a kind way of putting it. More like fucking infuriated. And, honestly, Steve can’t blame people. He’s not exactly overly thrilled that the government, here in this country and clearly in others around the world, are not telling them anything. 

Instead, they just send the freaking military into civilian areas and expect everyone to fall in line. 

In fact, when Steve lets himself think about it, he’s fucking infuriated as well. If not for having friends in high places, the two of them probably would have split from here a while ago. Possibly when this first started.

It’s too late for that, though. 

There’s no way they can get over the bridges to get to the mainland and it’s not as though mass transit is still running. Hell, there isn’t even any cell service or internet. There’s been rolling blackouts and the news keeps going out, but, they’re still expected to just sit in their homes and wait to be told it’s all clear. 

Steve has no idea how the fuck they’re expected to trust in…shit, he’s not even sure who anymore. 

Week Five

“Widespread panic continues across the country.” Elizabeth Brandt no longer wears make-up. Her hair isn’t done. Every now and then there’s a tremble in her voice. “Many communities are without telephone. Most without power. Some without water.”

Steve wrings his hands together. They still have some power left but it comes in and out. Right now, the only light they have is that of the T.V. Nighttime, they’ve been instructed to keep the lights off and the shades drawn. They haven’t had any way to contact anyone for over a week now. Water went off yesterday. 

“Scientists at the CDC have released the following statement,” she says. “This virus is passed through bodily fluid such as blood and saliva. It is most often passed through bites but can be contracted if contaminated blood is absorbed into the body.”

“What the hell?” Bucky breathes, leaning forward and resting his arms over his knees. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Hand on Bucky’s back, Steve rubs it in soft circles trying to offer whatever comfort he can. Hard, that, when he’s just as confused and concerned and afraid.

“The infected exhibit rabid-like symptoms within five to thirty minutes of infection including skin inflammation, flu-like symptoms such a headache, violent coughing, and sore throats, and nausea and vomiting. At two hours, mild paralysis sets in leading to locking of the joints but does not lead to immobility. Finally, severe confusion and aggression.”  Ms. Brandt pauses before she continues. “We have some…some footage here of some people who have contracted the virus but we must advise you this may be difficult to watch.”

On the screen now is video footage clearly taken on a cellphone. Somewhere in Europe, Steve thinks, based on the license plates. When they hear people start talking, rushed and panicked, Bucky murmurs that they’re speaking Romanian. 

A moment later, screaming. Running. Gunshots. Sheer chaos and pandemonium. Only Steve can’t see what they’re running from. The phone’s camera is shaking violently as its owner runs.

Until a person next to them tumbles and falls to the ground. Whoever’s filming stops to try to help and drops the phone in the process. But the camera is still rolling. 

And within seconds, someone��or something comes into view. 

A man, or at least what used to be a man. His head is bent nearly all the way to the left and his jaw is clearly broken. He’s dragging his right leg but that doesn’t seem to impede his speed. His right arm is twisted and locked against the side of his body. There’s blood everywhere. Around his mouth. Dripping from his eyes and nose and ears. He lunges for one of the two people there. They both scream.

The video ends there.

When the screen goes back to Elizabeth Brandt, she’s staring blankly. Not at the camera. Just staring out at nothing. Trembling. Until someone off-camera clears their throat. 

Her gaze slowly lifts and focuses back on the camera facing her. She sucks in a deep breath and nods.

“The military is mobilizing,” she murmurs, very quiet. Little emotion other than the fear that’s permeating through this living room, “in an attempt to evacuate all major cities.” Ms. Brandt’s breath staggers. “We’re providing a list of rescue stations.” Scrolling on the bottom of the screen. “Please, make your way to the rescue station closest to you. If you are watching this broadcast at this time, please, get to a rescue station immediately.”

The screen starts cutting in and out, and Ms. Brandt is still speaking when it cuts off completely and goes dead. Colorbars with a high-pitched ringing is all that’s left.

“Steve…” Bucky whispers. “Did you…did you…this can’t be happening.”

All Steve can think about is Rhodey’s first call to him. 

They’ll try to evacuate the cities, he’d said. When that happens, don’t wait. Go.  

“We have to go.” 

Steve is already on his feet. First thing he does is grab two of their handguns. Both loaded. The only time Steve’s ever considered bringing a gun outside is when they go to the gun range and they’re always stored in locked cases. 

“Where are we going, Steve?” Bucky asks. “It cut out before the list even reached Brooklyn.” 

“I don’t care,” Steve replies, shoving one of the guns into Bucky’s hands. “But we need to get out of here. We’ll figure it out.” 

Bucky doesn’t question any more than that. Seems he’s already caught up with Steve’s thinking and wants to get the fuck out of there as much as he does. Even more so when they hear gunshots from not all that far away. 

They both freeze on the way to the door and stare at each other for a second. They’re leaving everything behind, Steve knows that. The bags they packed a few weeks ago are useless now. 

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve says and pulls him in for a kiss. “We’re gonna get through this.” 

Strange and horrifying as all this is, Bucky still manages a smile and grabs Steve’s hand. Tight. Unwilling to let go.

“I know.” He nods and adds his own kiss. “I love you, too.”

Steve takes one last, long look at Bucky before he wretches open the door and they dash outside. 

It’s already chaotic. People are doing the same as them. Running. With no sense of direction, they just fucking run. Steve runs with Bucky’s hand still tucked securely in his. 

The military there is trying to give out instructions. No one’s listening, of course, and even if Steve wanted to, he can’t understand them anyway. 

There are people everywhere. Parents carrying children. Lovers clinging to each other. Friends desperate to help each other. Some people trip and fall, and Steve and Bucky do what they can to help them back to their feet. Others aren’t so lucky and are trampled. 

Horns are blasting and metal twists around metal and glass shatters. There’re fires. More gunshots. Looting. 

They’ve only gone a few blocks when the screaming changes. The panic shifts to outright horror and fear. One glance over his shoulder confirms Steve’s worst fears.

They’re being chased by the infected. Several of them. Lots of them. So many… 

“Where the fuck did they come from?!” Bucky shouts as he pulls out his gun. “They’re everywhere.” 

Behind them, there’s snarling and growling. Squelching sounds and crunching bones. 

Steve is suddenly very aware of the sound of his own breathing. It’s all he can hear over the screams and cries for help. His heart is pounding like it’s never done. 

This is all wrong. 

Nothing makes sense.

These people need his help and he’s just running. That’s not what he does. That’s not what either of them do. But Steve doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to help these people. To save them. All he can do is run until his legs feel like jelly and his chest hurts and his head is spinning. 

They get a bit of luck when they have a chance to duck into an alleyway that’s not far from a school. The list that had the rescue spots listed a lot of schools and churches in the other boros. Can’t be too different for them. 

When they reach the end of the alley, there’s a fence that they need to climb over. A few people, not infected from what Steve can tell, have followed. Them, Steve helps as best he can by assisting them up and over the fence. 

Bucky, already on the other side of the fence, helps them over and down. Some of these people seem to know each other. Possibly a family. Three children. Four adults. 

They say something about trying to get to the rendezvous point. That they’re evacuating people in trucks and buses and vans not that far from here. 

One of the adults climbs over the fence and runs without waiting for anyone else. Steve hopes that means they’re not associated with the rest of them. Another climbs over and waits as Steve and the other two help the three children. 

They’ve just made it over, Bucky helping the last one and handing her off to the person next to him, when his eyes go wide.

“Steve…” He’s gone very rigid, staring at something behind Steve. “Hurry.”

Steve glances over his shoulder. Sees what Bucky does. Three people. Growling. Drooling. Their bodies all contorted, and bones cracking when they take a few steps in Steve’s direction. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes and then whirls back to the last person on this side of the fence with him. He grabs him and shoves him at the fence. “Go! Go, now! Hurry!” 

“Steve!” Bucky yells. “Steve, hurry! Come on, please!”

In his rush, Steve slips a time or two as he clambers to the top of the fence. The entire thing shakes and trembles. The young man next to him nearly loses his grip and falls. Steve grabs him by the wrist and keeps a hand on his back to help him.

“God damn it, Steve!” Bucky shouts. “Come on! You need to run!”

They’re at the fence now. Grabbing at Steve and his companions legs. Tearing at their clothes. Trying to pull them back down. 

When Steve makes it to the top, he swings one leg over, and just as he goes to bring the other, a sharp, unimaginable pain radiates at his ankle and shoots up his entire leg. He screams as he jerks his knee up and grabs his ankle. 

The pain is so agonizing that Steve lets go of the fence and falls the rest of the way, landing with a hard thud on the concrete. Something might break, he isn’t sure. It’s the pain in his ankle that has his attention. 

“Steve!” Bucky is at his side the second he hits the ground. “Steve, what happened? Are you all right? Can you get--oh fuck.”

Steve snaps his gaze back to the fence. Where the infected are climbing up it. To make matters worse, there are three coming into this side of the alley on the other end.

“Bucky…” Steve pants and coughs. His ankle throbs and that fall knocked the wind out of him. “Get the…the kids…” 

They’re all trapped. If they’re going to get the rest of these people out of here, Steve knows what needs to be done. He and Bucky need to separate. 

Gun at the ready, Bucky nods and shoots back up to his feet, stepping in front of the group of people with his weapon aimed. Steve reaches into his holster and pulls out his own gun. 

They start shooting. 

Steve knows he hits them. One in the arm. One in the leg. One in the chest. But they keep coming. He fires again. Foot. Shoulder. Back. And they still keep coming. 

“The heads!” Bucky suddenly yells. “Steve, go for their heads!” 

Vision blurry and ears ringing, Steve takes several shots before finally getting one in the head. He manages to get another but the third, right before she’d lunge at Steve, is taken down by Bucky. She falls in a heap right next to Steve. 

Once again, Bucky drops by his side. At the same time, he’s waving at the rest of the people there to run. They do, but not before thanking them. 

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky says. “You gotta get up.” 

That fall did a lot more to him than Steve realized. It shouldn’t be all that surprising. He just fell at least ten feet. His head hurting isn’t very shocking. The sore throat is a little unusual, but Steve figures that’s from all the screaming. 

Still, he’s so dazed and disoriented, that when Bucky once again tries to pull him back to his feet, he tries to push him off.

“Just go,” Steve grunts, “get outta here.”

“No,” Bucky growls between his teeth. “Not without you. Now c’mon, Steve. Get. The fuck. Up. Now.” 

If they weren’t in the middle of a zombie-like apocalypse, Steve would laugh. That tone, it’s not one to be reckoned with. 

Steve nods and accepts Bucky’s help as he brings him back to his feet. The strain makes Steve grunt and he teeters a bit off balance. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks. “You with me?”

“Always.”

Even in the midst of a waking, walking nightmare, Bucky scoffs a laugh and, fuck, that smile is worth walking through fire for. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Rogers.”

Steve is limping a bit, but after just half a block, he’s able to at least sprint without needing to lean all of his weight against Bucky. 

The coughing starts a few minutes later. Uncontrollable fits that have Steve doubled over. His head hurts so bad that he almost wants to bash it against a wall. 

That fucking fall. He’s taken hits worse than that, he’s sure of it, yet one tiny fall off a tall fence has him ready to keel over. He can’t, though. He needs to suck it up and keep running to get Bucky out of here. 

“Steve?” Bucky asks when Steve is bent over coughing again. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods and tries to straighten again. “I think…I think I broke a rib or something.” 

“Okay. Okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Bucky assures him. “We’re not far now. When we get there, they’ll help you.”

Spitting some blood from his mouth, Steve wipes his arm across his and clears his throat, wincing from the pain of it. He exhales sharply and then lets Bucky wrap his arm around his waist to assist him again. 

Only this time, when Steve takes a step with his right foot, white light flashes in front of his eyes and he shrieks as his weight falls out from under him.

“Steve!” Bucky goes down with him. “What is it? What happened?”

Steve shivers from head to toe. It’s too hot out. He has no idea when it got so freaking hot out. It’s only April for god’s sake. 

“Stevie…” 

Steve can just make out Bucky’s voice through clogged ears. Then it disappears altogether and all Steve can see is Bucky’s lips moving. It’s hard to make out what he’s saying, but Steve can venture a guess. So he nods, assuming Bucky’s asking if he’s all right, and lets Bucky help him back up. 

“Come on, baby, we’re almost there.”

Bucky’s right. 

They’re not far. 

Just another two blocks sees them at the blockade. There are swarms of people being ushered in a few groups at a time. 

As Bucky leads Steve there so they can wait their turn, Steve takes a glimpse down at his ankle. It’s covered in blood. He knows it’s his. It’s seeped into his jeans and down into his sock. That's why, he realizes, his foot squishes every time he walks. That’s why it hurts when he walks. That’s why… 

Eyes filling with tears, Steve coughs again, his breaths shuddering. Bucky readjusts his grip on him. Helps him as best he can because that’s what they do. They help each other. They save each other. They love each other. 

Steve just watches him now. His Bucky. His best friend. The man he’s loved since they were a couple of punk kids running around the streets of Brooklyn. Life had taken them in different directions after middle school but they still found their way back to each other. 

“What?” Bucky asks when he notices Steve staring at him. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit?”

“No.” A sense of peace and calm washes over Steve. “I just love you.” 

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Hard to smile with all this, but it’s almost there. 

“I love you, too, Steve.” 

Steve coughs more. His throat is on fire. His stomach turns, nausea creeping through. 

When they finally reach the entrance through the barricade, Steve hands Bucky his gun just as he walks through. 

“Steve, what’re you doing?”

“Take it,” Steve whispers. “You’ll need all the protection you can get.”

“I have my own,” Bucky says. “You need it.”

Steve shakes his head and ignores the officers trying to move them along. 

“Just take it. And go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Come on, Steve! Don’t fuck around!”

Those tears almost get the better of Steve, but he manages to hold them back. For now. 

He looks down at his ankle and lifts up the bottom of his jeans. Shows Bucky what Steve already knows is there. 

A bite.

A big chunk of his skin all red and black and blue and swollen. 

It pulses. Throbs. It’s almost unbearable.

“No…” Bucky whimpers. “No, no, no. We can…you’re gonna be fine. You…”

“Go, Bucky.”

“No! No, I’m not leaving you!” Abruptly frantic, like he can’t figure out what’s happening or what to do, Bucky starts to shake all over. “No. No, I’m staying. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you!”

The tears finally break through, mirroring those rolling down Bucky’s cheeks. But Steve won’t give in. He won’t be selfish. He’ll save Bucky. Even if that means taking himself out of the picture. 

“I’m bitten,” Steve says to the soldiers there. “Take him out of here.”  

They don’t wait.

Steve’s actually surprised he and Bucky got this last bit of time together. That doesn’t stop Bucky from screaming. From struggling with all his might against the soldiers dragging him away. 

“No! No, Steve! Steve, please! God, no! No, this can’t…you can’t leave me! You can’t!”

Bucky’s reaching over the soldiers. Trying desperately to get back to Steve. Even for just one last touch. 

And Steve is selfish enough for that.

He reaches once.

Their fingers graze.

Stomach lurching just as they load Bucky in the back of a military truck and it drives away, taking Steve’s whole life with it, Steve claps a hand over his mouth and pushes out of the crowd. Right at the fringe of it, he leans over to be ill. 

Steve doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him now, but he does know that he’s going to be a danger to all these people soon. No matter how much it hurts -- and it does, inside and out, like a red-hot poker shoved between his ribs -- he pushes onward. Gets himself out of there. As far away as possible before his legs give out from under him and he collapses in a gutter not far from where he and Bucky met. 

Week ???

The sun beats down on the empty city streets. Sizzles and burns Steve’s skin. He knows it is happening. Feels it happening. Can do nothing about it. 

He cannot remember how. 

Sometimes, he cannot even remember his own name. He knows he has one. Or did have one. It is not that important. 

The ankle that was bit still throbs. It always does. Now, that foot is all twisted. He can’t really bend his right knee and his right arm is clenched to his chest. He has been unable to move it for the longest time. 

Sometimes Steve sees people. Real people. The way he used to be. If they see him, they scream and run. If they have weapons, they try to kill him. 

He wants to tell them that he does not want to hurt them. And that much is true. Steve doesn’t want to hurt them. But he will. He can’t stop it. The guilt is overwhelming, the screams of the people he has hunted down echoing through his ears. 

He is just so very hungry. Always hungry. Or maybe he is thirsty. His tongue and mouth and throat are on fire. The taste of iron has not left his mouth since the first meal he had. 

The only other thing he wants to do is sleep. Nothing ever stops, though. Steve can’t sleep. All he ever does is wander. 

There is a building he passes from time to time that feels right. Familiar. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there’s a word for it. It sits at the tip of his tongue. Not that it matters. He cannot speak anything more than grunts and moans and growls. 

That’s because of the pain. So much pain that ravages through his entire body, day and night. 

Steve can’t stop crying. It is different now. He doesn’t think he is doing it right, but he still cries. Wordless and soundless. 

Maybe he has lost something. It feels like that. Very much so. Like he is looking for someone. Someone that left him here. Right? Or…no, that is not right. The others did. They left Steve and the rest of the Wanders to rot. 

Things do not make sense so much anymore. They haven’t in a long time. 

He hates them. Steve doesn’t know who but he does and he wants to hurt them until they feel as much pain as he does. If he gets the chance he’ll bite into their flesh and tear into through skin and gnaw down to their bones just to hear their screams.  

No.

No, no, no, no, no…no.

Why does he want that?

Steve can’t remember. 

If he finds them…them…him…then maybe it will be better. The pain won’t go away but that smile. Yes, that smile. 

Bucky.

The name pulses through him and for one single second, Steve’s existence makes sense again. That second passes quickly. 

Something is behind him. Steve can hear it. Smell it. Fresh meat. Warm. Alive. 

Head stuck tilted to the right, Steve turns, his bones creaking and cracking along with the movements. The living. Three of them. From the smell of them, two males and one female. 

Steve is hungry. It does not matter that they carry weapons, Steve will try to get food. He opens his mouth. Jaw popping, drool leaking over his teeth. Steve hisses. Tries to warn them. Threaten them. Demand they do not move so he can have his meal. 

“I hate it when they make that noise,” one of the males says. “Fucking creepy.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Sam,” the female answers, “you’re not losing your nerve, are you?” 

Steve runs toward them now. If they do not shoot him first and set him free, he will catch them and he will eat them and for just a few moments he will not be hungry. 

“No, Nat, not losing my nerve,” Sam says. “Doesn’t stop that noise from being any less creepy.” 

“Yeah.” Nat nods. “I’ll give you that.”

“Stark, what’re you waiting for?” Sam asks the second male. “You wanna be his happy meal?”

“Not today,” Stark replies and Steve is only a few steps away when he raises his weapon and it discharges. 

Hits him in the chest. Steve does not stop. A puny weapon as that will not come between him and his food. Except when a new pain spreads from that spot and sparks throughout his entire body, Steve drops to his knees and gasps for air. 

They have hurt him more. More pain. 

So much more pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“All right,” Stark says when Steve falls forward, unable to move. “Tag ‘im and bag ‘im.”

Nat crouches down in front of Steve and turns his head so that he’s facing her. She lifts his eyelid up and clicks her tongue. 

“You’re right, Stark,” she says. “He’s one of the firsts.”

Sam comes close. Take a good look as well. Must agree because he nods but why will they not kill Steve? It will be better for them…for him… 

“Eyes are totally bloodshot,” Sam says. “Poor guy.”

“Well, let’s get ‘im back to the lab,” Stark tells them. “Bruce and Helen will wanna have a look.” 

A lab.

Steve cannot remember this word but it makes his insides feel wrong. Afraid. Maybe that is it. 

***

Steve feels quite weightless. 

Floaty.

No, not floaty. Actually floating. 

Perhaps that means he’s finally died. If that’s that case, he’s not sure if he’d feel this good. After everything he’s done as a Wanderer, he deserves damnation, not salvation. 

There should be no reward. No easing of his pain. And this dull ache in the back of his head, the heat in his throat, and the aches in his body is the most relief he’s had since…well, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

Although, if by some miracle, he’s been let into an eternal paradise, maybe that means he’ll reunite with Bucky someday. 

Oh. 

Oh, his Bucky.

A tremble flies up his spine. 

The last time Steve saw Bucky, he was crying and scared and screaming for him. He could still feel the spot where their fingers last touched. 

But it was the right thing to do, it was. If Bucky had stayed with him, he’d’ve died. All this guilt topped with the idea of taking Bucky’s life as well? No, Steve couldn’t handle that. 

It occurs to Steve then that he hasn’t fully been able to recall Bucky in quite some time. Now, he’s all Steve can think about. 

The pain in his ankle feels so much better. 

His head isn’t tilted. 

His arm isn’t pinned against his chest. 

Steve finally gains enough coherency to open his eyes. When he does, he gasps and thrashes about. 

He’s submerged in water. In a vertical tube. There are wires hooked to his naked body and tubes in his mouth and nose. Steve bangs on the glass. He can breathe and he can hear but he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on and he needs to get out of this thing.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, it’s okay!” 

Someone’s voice comes through the thick water and Steve turns that way. He doesn’t know this person but he recognizes him. The man who shot him. With someone. Not a bullet. 

Now that Steve’s thinking a bit clearer, he thinks it may have been some type of taser. 

“My name is Tony,” he says, pushing closer to Steve on a wheelie chair. “Tony Stark. You’re gonna be okay now.”

Too busy trying to figure out what’s happening and how he got here, Steve looks around at all he can see. It’s a lab, just like they said. They must’ve brought him back here. Brought him…back.

“I know, you’re probably confused, that’s normal,” Tony explains. “The process is a bit disorienting. Is this getting through? Can you nod or something, big guy?”

Tony, Steve realizes, is asking him a question. He’s actually talking to him. Not running and screaming, but talking. Steve can’t talk with the tubs in his mouth so he nods. 

“Good, good. Here, I’m gonna pull up a virtual keyboard.” Whatever he does out there makes letters appear on the glass in front of Steve. “Can you type your name in?” 

Steve might be achy but he’d also be fucking thrilled to do this. He lifts the arm he hasn’t controlled in so long and types his name.

S-T-E-V-E 

R-O-G-E-R-S

When Steve sees his name displayed on the screen, he smiles. For so long, he couldn’t even be sure if that’s who he was and now he knows. He’s him. He’s Steve Rogers. 

But Tony just blinks at the name a few times. His mouth opens not once, but twice before he finally answers. 

“Steve Rogers?” He says that as if he’s familiar with it. “You…do you know a Bucky Barnes?”

Eyes going wide, Steve would gasp if he wasn’t breathing through a tube and underwater. This guy knows Bucky. He’ll be able to tell Steve if he’s okay. If he’s near. If he’s safe. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” Tony mumbles. “Well…shit. He was right. You were too stubborn to die.” He snickers before pushing back over to the lab table he’d been at before Steve started banging on the tube. He picks up the phone and only dials one digit. “Hey, I need you two to bring Barnes down.”

Bring him down. That means Bucky’s here. Oh, god, please, please let this be real. 

“Uh…let’s just say he’s been right this whole time,” Tony says. “He always said he was still out there.” 

Tony continues with a brief conversation with whoever’s on the phone but Steve doesn’t pay any attention. All he cares about is the fact that Bucky is here. Bucky’s here and they’re bringing him to see Steve. 

While he waits, Tony explains a bit of what’s happened and why Steve is in this thing. It’s a bit hard to follow along; not everything is entirely clear yet and Steve’s mind is still a little fuzzy. 

Apparently, the weightless environment helps the Wanderers’ limbs to unlock. That, combined with the antibodies speeds up the recovery process. The recovery process that Bucky’s been helping with.

According to Tony, Bucky’s part of some vigilante group. A group that rallied together to go out and look for survivors. Killing Wanderers when they needed. When they could.

“It was your man who thought he saw something in one of them one day,” Tony says. “Saw…what could be. And instead of killing…”  

They started bringing Wanderers back to the lab. To their base of operations. Found something of a cure. 

“You’ll probably have to stay in there for another forty-eight hours or so and then go through a ton of physical therapy, but, based on our other subjects, you should make a--”

The door swings open, and without even pausing to check the room, Bucky comes running in and right up to the tube where Steve is. 

“Steve!” There’re tears streaming down his face. “Oh, god, baby, I knew it. I knew you’d be alive. I did. I told you. I told you, you’d be okay. Oh, fuck, baby, I miss you so much. I love you. I love you, Steve.”

Steve still isn’t entirely sure if this is really happening. It feels real. Maybe not what he deserves but…if he’s allowed a few moments of peace, he’ll gladly accept it. 

If it is real, well, they did it again. Somehow, against all odds, they found their way back to each other. 

He smiles around the tubes in his mouth and traces a heart along the glass. Still crying, Bucky lets loose a wet laugh and traces a heart over it. 

It’s the last thing Steve sees before his eyes close again.

He’s tired. 

He’d very much like to sleep. 

And maybe dream. 

[serzhantkris]

Something Worth Fighting For- 8

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series

Words: 1040\

Warnings: Language, as always. Mentions of death.

AN: Shit. It has been. Over a year. Man, ya’ll. I am... So sorry. 

Masterlist  Part 7

The warehouse is cold. The distinct stench of mold resonates from every corner, the odor masking the smell of sweat. Your clothes are stuck to your skin and your lip is chapped from chewing on it. Through the smallest crevice in the wall, you can see Steve as he slinks past, Sam tight on his heels. The two disappear, hats pulled low over their brows and hands in their pockets.

“How long will it take?” Bucky’s voice is gruff, bouncing off the walls of the room. He’s rubbing his mechanical wrist, not looking at you when you turn back around.

“A couple hours, maybe less. Depends if Steve remembers how to hot-wire.”

Bucky laughed, a dry sound that didn’t quite get up and out of his throat. The corners of his lips twitched in that forced smile. An uncomfortable silence, thicker than fog, fell over the warehouse. Water was dripping somewhere in the dark corners. Your footsteps were soft, barely audible as you paced back and forth like a hungry lion, eyes darting between the crack in the wall and Bucky’s form.

“Why did you come?” Bucky raised his head hair falling over his cheekbones and into his eyes. “To Bucharest.”

“I told you-”

“What’s the real reason?”

That silence again. Your fingers absently dug at the cement between two bricks in the wall, flecks of dust floating gently to the concrete below. “I needed to know.”

“To know it wasn’t me?”

“To know you were alive.”

The barrell Bucky was sitting on groaned as he stood, closing the gap between you. Even in the dark, his shadow fell over you. “I’m sorry.”

The dripping water echoed, louder now. Bucky’s breath kissed your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “For trying to kill you. And for leaving you behind.”

The months of anger, of hating that you woke up alone in the home you had built together; months of fear that he was truly gone, that you had lost him all over again- they had all accumulated, sweltered too long in the sun and been left buried somewhere dark and empty, felt suddenly more heavy than it had in a long time. You should have been angry. You should have been afraid. You should have felt disappointed, betrayed, lonely. You should have felt a lot of things. But being honest with yourself, all you felt right now was tired.

“Bucky, if I made you apologize every time you tried to kill me, I wouldn’t do anything else. You never had a choice in that. But you did in Romania.”

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but it closes just as quickly. There was much he could have said: that he was trying to protect you, that you deserved better, that you were better off with the Avengers. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough to make up for what he’d done.

“When Steve gets back,” you said, clearing your throat. “We’ll make a plan. We’ll get out of here and stop the other soldiers. After that, we get you somewhere safe.”

“And after that?”

You didn’t have an answer.

Your temple bumps against the window as the car speeds down the highway, flickers of the German countryside flying by. The radio turned low, barely a mumble over the sound of Sam’s light snoring. In the rearview mirror, Steve’s brows are pulled in concentration, evidence that more than the long drive is on his mind.

Across from you, Bucky shifts restlessly. Sam refused to move up his seat, cramming Bucky in the confines of the back seat. He’s claustrophobic, shifting in his seat like a dog that knows it’s going to the vet.

You nearly dare to ask ‘Are we there yet?’ when Steve flicks the blinker to exit. The car slows down and you sit up straighter, looking over Steve’s shoulder to the airport in the distance.

“They should already be here,” Steve says, nudging Sam. He starts, blinking himself awake and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Steve glances back at Bucky, who simply nods.

The parking garage is nearly empty, aside from a white van parked close to the elevator. The car stops and Steve throws open the door, the car shifting harshly as it loses his weight. You follow suit, the door slamming behind you. The sound echoes through the garage. The other doors close too, one after the other as the boys pile out. 

The sunlight spilling through the side of the garage falls on familiar faces: Clint Barton and Wanda Maximoff greet you with stoic expressions. 

Steve and Clint’s hands clasp as you round the car and pop the trunk. Steve’s shield catches your eye immediately, pristine and bright. You trace over the star, dragging your fingertips over the sleek surface. 

Bucky appears beside you, reaching his metal arm deeper into the trunk in search of his black vest. In the corner of your eye, the red star catches the sun, and your throat tightens with the knowledge of what’s to come. 

The sharp sound of the van door opening startles you. Bucky looks up and past you, and you take the opportunity to look at his face. His unshaven jaw is clenched, tight, and his eyes flicker back and forth between the others as they speak. 

“Bucky,” you clear your throat, voice low, and he meets your eye. “Whatever happens-“

“Don’t.” There’s something in the way the whisper screeches against your eardrums, something desperate in his throat. “Everytime someone says that— Don’t say something like it’s goodbye.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulls the black vest, shifting the contents of the trunk. He steps back and makes room for you to search the trunk yourself. 

“We should get moving,” he announces to the group, unfastening the buckles on the front of the best. 

“Got a chopper lined up,” Clint says. Glancing his way, you realize there’s a man you’ve never met standing between Wanda and Steve. 

A blaring siren echoes through the garage before you can ask, an announcement in German layered over it. 

“They’re evacuating the airport,” Bucky translates.

“Stark,” Sam says, exchanging a knowing look with Steve.  

“Stark?” The newcomer’s face flashes through confusion and uncertainty. Steve nods his way. 

“Suit up.”

[kl4us4]

MELODRAMA

CHAPTER NINE: HARD FEELINGS / LOVELESS

Summary: Three lifelong friends - Poe, Finn, and Ben - encounter a new transfer to the base. You. And it isn’t long before you and Ben become closer than anyone had expected.

masterlist / melodrama masterlist

Go back and tell it. Remember it all. Refresh it in your mind. Ben left. He left you here alone. He left all his friends and he broke your heart. You wish you could be upset at him for it. You also wish that when he decided to leave that’d he’d stay gone. As you see Poe approaching you, you hold back a sigh. You guess wishes just don’t come true.

“Surprised to see you here.” He remarks honestly, his voice loud over the blasting music. 

“Surprised to be here.” You admit, gesturing for him to sit beside you on the couch, “Haven’t been to a party... in ages.”

Poe gives you a sad smile. It isn’t lost on him that the last time you were sat on this couch, it was Ben that was beside you. “I know.” He continues in a laugh, putting the bottle up to his lips before he speaks, “I’ve been to every single one.”

You force a smile, knowing Poe still has hope for things to go back to normal. But it won’t be. Not after everything that happened last night. You can’t stop going over it all in your head. 

“You’re forgetting me.” Ben had told you. Why is that a bad thing? Isn’t that what everyone was supposed to do since he left without saying goodbye?

“Where‘s Finn?” You wonder, changing the subject and changing your mind. But before Poe can reply, there comes a blaring alarm. It ripples through the bar, making people fret and rush around. It’s a little ways off the base but the alarm sounds deafeningly loud in the quiet of the night. You recognise the sound of the alarm from your training. “Is this a drill?” You frown, looking to Poe urgently. 

He doesn’t answer, just meets your eyes, stands, and you follow him. Straight to his x-wing, that’s where you go. Then he speeds to the base, along with others. You can’t believe your eyes when the base comes into view. It burns to look at the brightness of it all, the absolute fire that engulfs more than half of the base. Not even the sight of thousands of rebels congregating, safe from the flames, can bring you relief. 

A familiar ship rolls from the bay, you can see it as Poe angles his ship down. The Millenium Falcon. You haven’t seen it fly since... since Ben left. “No, land closer.” You order Poe, not taking your eyes off of the black ship starting its bright engine. 

“But-”

“Just do it.” You shout, heart practically beating out of your chest. You can’t let that piece of shit go into hyperspace or you’ll never see it again. When the x-wing has landed and you rush from it, you hear Poe‘s footsteps following you with urgency.

“General Organa.” You greet her, meeting her sad eyes as she stands outside of the dropship. “What happened here?”

She sucks in a shallow breath, “Y/N, you’re not sanctioned to know the details-”

“No, but I am.” Poe interrupts, “What happened?”

Leia swallows the lump in her throat, looking towards the burning base as she stands at the edged of the Falcon. “Snoke.”

That name makes you freeze. You hadn’t heard it in so long. Ben doesn’t need the force connection to tell him you’re close... he can hear your voice outside. 

“He attacked the base?” Poe wonders, furrowing his eyebrows. Leia tears her eyes from you, looking to her trusted friend as he continues to speak, “How did he find our coordinates?”

Unable to tell him the whole truth, Leia just shrugs. “I’m not sure, Poe. We’ll figure it out. Now, the best thing is for everyone to evacuate. Follow emergency plan 8. Spread the word.”

Poe nods, giving you a glance before he rushes off, already ordering his troops like a good soldier. You’re not sure why Leia hasn’t sent you away, cursed you from being in her sight... but she just gives you a sad glance. 

“You know more than you led on.” It comes from your mouth as a sort of question... a query, not a statement. “Is that why you didn’t want me around... because I’m connected to him?”

Leia places a hand on your shoulder, “There are so many things you don’t understand, Y/N. And I hate to be the one to drag you into this mess.”

“But?” You continue for her, looking into her brown eyes and wondering what the hell is going on. She takes her hand from you.

Ben stands on the other side of the door and his mother knows this. She looks to you, wondering if you’re skilled enough to tell when Ben is around. Can you feel him there? Or can you not tell the difference between real life and the force?

"Snoke didn’t just guess our location. He tracked us.” The General advises you, “He used the connection that you and Ben have.” The conversation rushes to your memory. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” 

 “Y/N… I’m not doing this.” Ben painfully responded to you.

“Then how?” You asked back, awaiting his reply.

“We’re connected. Haven’t we always been?”

“No.” You mutter, head tilting back to your burning home, “I... I did this? I took part in this... Last night, I-”

“I know.” She interrupts you, “Ben told me.”

Your head is reeling and you can’t stop the guilt from feeding itself into your chest. Ben was right, then. He really did leave to stop people from getting hurt. Your only job was to let him. Your only job was to let him go. And now look. Look at what’s happened. The base is burning. Your home... everyone’s home is vanishing before their eyes. Because you couldn’t let go... you couldn’t just let Ben Solo get up and leave peacefully. 

Stars, you wish you could ask her where Ben is. And how Ben is. And if he’s still here and if he said anything about you, or if he wants to see you, or if you can talk to him but you can barely breathe, you can barely breathe, you can barely 

“Breathe.” 

A harsh voice startles you from your spiral. Looking up, your eyes are filled with hot tears. You see the blurry vision of someone you only had a glimpse the night Ben left. Luke Skywalker. His piercing blue eyes lock onto yours. 

“Do not go in your mind where your body is not. Snoke did this.” He states forcefully, “This is what he does. This is what war does. Y/N, this is what he wanted all along. It’s why he got a hold on Ben and it’s why he tried to seduce you to the dark side too.”

“He... Snoke... Snoke couldn’t have done this without me!” You breathe, feeling guilt run through you like a fever. Your hands shake. Anger courses through you and even Ben can feel it from his hiding position in the Falcon. You tear your eyes from Luke. “This is my fault...” You admit, knowing that the Supreme Leader was after you through Ben. “I never should’ve been in Bens room. It was so stupid of me.” Running your hands through your hair, you wonder what Poe and Finn will think once they find out. Stars, how could you be so foolish? 

“Stop. In no way is this your fault.” Leia pushes. 

You just look up at her and you see the red fires reflected in her eyes. “How can you say that to me while everything you worked for is burning?” You turn to the burning buildings, seeing rebels emerging covered in rubble. You see Poe and Rey stand by one another as they sit Finn up. 

“Because,” Leia pauses, taking a breath. You can’t handle looking at her. “Because if it’s your fault then it’s my son's fault. And I can’t bear the thought of that.”

Luke’s voice. “Ben.”

Now you turn. There he is. At the foot of the Falcon, Ben’s brown eyes are wide as he looks to his mother, seeing her slumped shoulders and her defeated expression. 

“This was our fault.” He confirms, eyes flicking to yours for the split of a second, “Look around, the Resistance is burning and our friends are covered in dust.”

Hearing Ben agree with you but barely even look at you makes you feel as though you’re not even there. Turning to his nephew, Luke begins to whisper things to Ben; no doubt trying to convince him that he should be guilt free. But now, Ben can’t tear his eyes away from you. Walking around Luke without a second thought or glance, he comes to face you. He looks tired... like he’s barely slept. He looks the same as he did four months ago. Maybe even worse as tears compile in his eyes freely. 

It’s quiet for a sad moment. “I don’t know what to say to you.” You admit, wiping tears from underneath your eyes, “Last night... did you know this was going to happen?”

Ben just watches you closely, the black tone of his garments contrasting his skin and making him look even more pale than usual. “You think I’d allow like this?”

“I don’t know.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

“I knew as much as you did,” Ben tells you honestly, wanting to touch you but not knowing if it’s okay. So he stands still. You watch him, wishing he would hug you and tell you it’s all fine and tell you that you’re both still the good guys even though it doesn’t seem that way right now. When he looks at you, Ben can’t see past the guilt and anger you’re emitting. 

I knew Snoke before you did.

Your voice. He raises his eyebrows, eyes focused on your lips. Bens head is filled with images of your lip along with a single thought. Ben’s eyes are filled with fury, he takes a step away from you. “Ben?” You reach out for him but he just pushes you away.

“I can’t believe you!” Ben exclaims back, not wanting to lose his temper but unable to comprehend your betrayal, “You were Snoke's apprentice long before you started working for the Rebellion!”

Narrowing your eyes, you give him a confused glare. “Ben, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like-”

“Like what?!”

“Like the victim of all this!”

“Both of you, enough!” Leia shouts, her scream drawing attention from your friends who make their way over to the unfolding scene. 

“No!” Ben shouts, looking around the group at his family and friends and you, “You all think it’s me you have to be afraid of... but she,” he points a finger to you, “she‘s the reason all of this happened. Tell them, why don’t you!”

You shake your head, “What’s gotten into you?”

He just laughs, gritting his teeth together. “You’re a good actress, I’ll give you that. So all this was fake, right? Just something Snoke put you up to?”

All you can do is shake your head, “Ben, I have nothing to do with Snoke.”

“Leia, I’m sorry but your son is...” You stop, not knowing how your feelings for Ben turned to such hatred. You don’t even know how you got to this point. What is going on?

“Is what?” Ben asks, taking a step towards you. His eyes pierce yours, “Finish your sentence. Your son is...”

You just pause, a breath caught in the middle of your throat. You lick your lips before you mumble, “Not your son anymore.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ben asks, a vicious smile on his features as he leans towards you, his hand raised. You can’t help but flinch and cower away. Rey frowns stoically, the buzzing sound of the blue lightsaber igniting rapidly. Bens eyes widen as if snapping out of his daze. His lips part, not knowing what to say or how he got in this position. His glance travels to his raised hand, his raised and shaking hand. And then he looks at you. “I...” He can’t say a single sentence, it seems. 

“This is lunacy,” Luke states, placing a hand on Bens' chest and pushing him away from you before he speaks. Rey puts the lightsaber away and it clings to her side. Ben just looks at his hand, wondering who the hell took control of him... but he doesn’t really have to wonder for long. “Listen, everyone needs to calm down. Snoke’s presence, I can feel it.” Looking between the two of you, Luke gives you both a sad expression, “He’s still controlling you, Ben... manipulating your auditory senses... your feelings, your actions, everything.”

You clench your jaw, feeling raw anger make your body shiver. Ben’s hand now by his side, he approaches you with an apologetic expression. “Take another step towards her and it’ll be your last,” Rey promises. Ben turns, wanting to just run back into the ship and fly away and never hurt anyone ever again.

“Don’t walk away from this.” Comes Poe‘s voice. You can’t help but look at him, all your anger and irrational thoughts dissipating, though they prod at your mind, “If Luke can feel him, then he isn’t far. We need everyone here on base.”

“What base?” Ben inquires, turning his head slightly. Poe gives his friend a heartbroken look. Poe doesn’t answer. “You need protectors. All I do is... burn everything.” 

Shaking his head, Poe walks up to the man who he’s known his entire life. “Not true.” He begins, “Remember when we were 11?”

“Oh, god.” Ben sighs, looking to the far off sky filled with clouds of smoke.

“You remember?” Poe persists.

“Yes,” Ben answers, turning to face him. 

“That stupid group of kids wouldn’t let us hang out at Summerfort even though we were there first. And one day they pushed me and I scraped my knee.” Poe gives Ben a small smile, “And you got so mad you pushed that kid into the lake.”

“And then...” Finn coughs, shakily standing by Rey’s side, “Then you felt bad so you helped him out.”

“And all three of you became best friends. Remember?” Poe finishes the story, looking between Finn and Ben.

“Yes.” Ben answers seriously this time, “I remember.” 

Pressing a finger to Ben’s chest, Poe looks his brother in the eyes. “That,” he says, “That is who you are.”

Ben shuts his eyes for a second before opening them upon seeing your face when he closed them. It was the look of horror laced on your face after you flinched away from him. He‘s not sure he can come back from that... from almost hurting you with his bare hands. He whispers to his friend, answering his claim, “I’m not so sure anymore.” 

[corey-067]

Whump Prompt 26 - Shot.

I fear that I'll fail to bring across the depth of what's in my mind, yet again. But here we go! This only took me about 3+ weeks to write.

TWs: Blood, injury detail, PTSD flashbacks, sci-fi violence (Halo-typical) The worst of it is under the cut. I'd like to thank CIA391 from Halopedia for the info and chat we had about the Blamite and how it works, plus the Superfund peeps for keeping me motivated to write when it's been grinding to a halt.

"Arcus Actual, Arcus Two: we've got the spaceport on lockdown. Got a fair few Covie vehicles here, some gear they were trying to get out before we took 'em down."

"Arcus Actual. Nice work, Spartans. We'll be in touch shortly."

The Spartan ducked to the side, his armor blaring warnings at him as a beam rifle strike intended for Commander Lasky struck Corey's chest, his shields taking the brunt of the impact - though he staggered from the force of the shot. Captain Del Rio had sent Lasky and a small contingent of Marines to scout out a former Covenant supply depot - one which supposedly contained a number of Forerunner relics. "Keep your damned head down!" The Spartan-II snapped, suddenly realizing who he was talking to. "Sir." He muttered. 'Spartan time' was in full effect, and he searched for the familiar red glow of the Jackal's helmet, his eyes recovering quickly from the afterburn from the beam.

"Two o'clock high! Suppressing fire!" Corey bellowed into the comms, forcing Lasky into what passed for cover as though he weighed nothing. They could observe proper etiquette when his charge - his friend - wasn't in danger. Shots rang out, followed by the whoosh of an M41 rocket launcher. The satisfaction of the detonation was only surpassed by the squawk of the Jackal in question, and a grim smirk crossed his hidden features. Gesturing for the marines to circle the complex, Corey tossed a pair of grenades into what his motion tracker told him was the last holdout of enemies in play. They detonated, and bodies went flying.

The trouble with motion trackers was simple. They were perfect for detecting incoming threats, and he'd even worked with several of the toys that ONI had developed to identify the electronic frequencies which the Elites' active camouflage gave off. If a second sniper was set back outside of the forty-meter range of his motion tracker, but also immobile, they were incredibly difficult to spot, even for someone with a Spartan's enhanced vision. His hand was still on Lasky's shoulder, keeping the Commander down behind the nanolaminate wall when the shots rang out.

Corey's reflexes were perhaps the fastest of any Spartan-II outside of Kelly, and only Kelly had been able to defeat him consistently in terms of raw speed - with his HERMES-class Mjolnir armor he was practically untouchable. The sound of shattering glass pierced the whine of his shield monitor, as the first of three blamite shards from a needle rifle struck the top of the wall. He was moving, faster than Lasky had seen a human - Spartan or not - move. It wasn't enough. It saved his life, without question - he still had vivid memories of what one of those needles could do to an unshielded Spartan, as Kat had died before he'd even managed to catch her. Corey only managed to move enough to turn a lethal blow into a gut shot, the third needle glancing off of the top of his domed visor.

He dropped behind cover, and Lasky stared at him, calling for a medic on comms, but receiving only static in reply. There was a level of panic radiating from the commander that Corey had never seen, in all the years he'd known the man. "Lasky!" Half a tonne of Spartan slammed into the nanolaminate surface, and Corey could see that Infinity's commander was somewhere else entirely.

He was shocked that the blamite crystal hadn't detonated, the pink-purple shard was pulsing, threatening to do just that, and it'd lodged itself directly beneath his armor plate. It needed to removing carefully, and he didn't have an angle to do so. Lasky was miles, or perhaps years away, and Corey knew that he had to reach him.

"Lasky!" He barked again, with all the authority he could muster. In his mind, it was the voice of Chief Mendez, the authoritative bark he heard whenever he needed to push himself just that little bit harder. The part of a soldier's brain which resonates with that tone, drilled in from morning to night for years woke up, and he blinked rapidly, memories of the bodies of his classmates drifting into the background of his vision, threatening to resurface at any time.

Everything was a blur. Smoke and shadow, darkness lit by streaks of green and pink, the muzzle flashes of ODST's fighting a valiant, losing fight. Mehaffey had been protecting him, as well. "Get to the dorm! Go!" Her gestures were frantic, but she remained in control. "Go! Go! GO!" And then that sound, needler fire struck her chest, her shoulders and took her off of her feet. His mind was on a loop, deafened by the cacophony of this brand new war that had burst into their young lives in a blaze of plasma fire. A hand grabbed him, hard, dragging him into the light...

"Tom, I need you here. Now." Corey was holding the wound closed around the shard, he needed it gone, but it was all Tom could do to look his reflection in the face. He slipped back into it.

It was a nightmare; it had to be. Aliens? Here? Hastati was cut in half, only saved by the timely intervention of Master Chief 117. He never found out his name, if he even had one, just the number stenciled onto his armor. He trusted the Chief with his life, though he couldn't place why, and that trust was well placed, as he took fire, saving them again. Sully was hit but walking. General Black's lifeless eyes haunted him as he dragged his body from his Warthog, and fear kept his head down as he tried desperately to get the vehicle started. And then they were clear. It was incredibly surreal, escaping into the forest, weapons blaring around him as those creatures with shields fell, Chyler putting her years of rifle training to efficient use. They were retreating as the Spartan, and the cadre of cadets sped towards the Pelican. Someone yelled, he wasn't quite sure who, and the vehicle was blasted by the wash of a plasma grenade. The cadet slammed on the brakes, fearing that he'd send them off into the trees if he didn't stop until his vision cleared, the thump of a jackal hitting the windshield reminding him that he needed to get the engine running as fast as possible, but it wasn't working.

The report of a Battle Rifle firing jogged Tom out of his reverie, the Spartan beside him finding it in himself to take out the sniper, despite his injury. The first burst missed entirely, but the next was on point. Three rounds, spread further than usual because he was shaking with the effort to hold himself up pierced the Jackal's skull, killing it instantly. Corey could feel the blood beneath his armor's undersuit, and he dropped. It was far from the most blood he'd lost, but he knew he needed it sealing, and soon.

Gunfire wasn't enough to break Lasky from his waking nightmare entirely, and Corey was running out of options, aside from simply slapping his face.

"Tom? Tom?!" Each moment that he didn't react, Chyler's voice became more panicked. Once he realized what was going on, he screamed for the Chief, but he had no biofoam. They had to get her to the Pelican before she bled out, which would've been a challenge on a good day, and today was definitely not one of those. They ran as best as they could, panting breaths and Chyler's whimpers punctuated only by the staccato sound of 117's assault rifle and the roars of the creature that dwarfed even their savior. Terror propelled them forward, but that adrenaline only carried them so far. They were all exhausted and had been running on fumes since the invasion had started. They were cadets, not ODSTs; they weren't prepared for this. How could they be?

More Covenant troops were exiting the facility, and Corey would've typically used this time to rush the doors, blast his way through the Covie line and get inside, a tactic the Spartans had used to great effect on numerous occasions. His body geared itself up for the sprint, even before the logical aspect of his brain reminded him that he had to protect Tom until the Marines returned, and the pain told him that he was still injured. His shields refused to recharge, likely because of the Subanese shard sticking through his abdomen. Corey released his hold on the crystal, a strange combination of pulsing heat and cold, he pulled the fiberoptic camera from a pouch attached to his armor. The camera displayed on his HUD, and if he'd had more time, he'd have connected the Smart Link from his BR-55 as well, but as it was, he just had to make guesses. At the whine of a plasma grenade on the other side of their barrier, the Spartan covered the Commander's form with his armored body, the detonation shaking Tom out of his reverie, as tears streamed down his cheek, dripping onto his fist that appeared to be miming holding another person's hand.

Corey fired blind, adjusting the angle of his rifle based on the trace of each three round burst. He killed two of the new arrivals, though he managed to drive the rest back into cover, waiting for them to pop their heads up.

"You've seen this before, haven't you, sir?" The Spartan asked, noting Lasky's reaction as his eyes flickered down to the injury.

The Commander nodded; his eyes glassy with tears. Corey recalled John telling him what had happened during their evacuation of Corbulo - the way that his friend had died. Corey winced, though not from the pain. Along with Linda, he'd flown the Pelican out of there, but he'd not met any of the cadets when they reached their destination, not meeting Lasky until years later, during his pilot days.

"I understand that this is painful for you, sir, but I need you to focus." Corey rumbled. "The Marines will be back soon, but we need to take the first steps n- keep your damned head down, sir!" The Spartan's voice was warm and steady, holding a comforting certainty that hadn't been getting through to Infinity's XO until he got snappy. He wasn't feeling as confident as he sounded, but he knew that he needed to project that for Lasky's sake.

Lasky came closer, and as he took a closer look at Corey's wound, the remaining color drained from his face. He looked as though he was about to either vomit or vanish into his head once again, until the Spartan gripped his arm, hard. The pain was enough to keep him focused on the present. "Look, Tom, this won't kill me, but I need your help." He shook the Commander's arm, for emphasis. "Focus on my voice, Tom. Everything will be okay, and I just need you to focus on doing as I say. I'll walk you through it." He paused a moment, switching off his vocoder as he gasped with pain. "Freya, can you make sure that my shields don't recharge? Last thing I need is to be ripped apart because that energy overloads the crystal."

There was a momentary pause, and the alarm cut. "I've disconnected it from your armor's power supply, Corey. Just remember not to stick your head into the line of fire until after we've booted it back up. I'm not a fan of you injuring yourself." Despite the rich amusement in the AI's tone, he knew that she was entirely serious.

"Yes dear." He deadpanned, and for a moment her avatar glowed green on his HUD, arms crossed and shaking her head.

"What do you need me to do?" Lasky's shaky voice cut in. There he was - the soldier that John had described from Corbulo. Brave despite what he was feeling, or perhaps because of it. Corey passed him a biofoam canister, a small model which he kept on his belt for extended field missions, something that came in useful in this case as his suit's injectors were either empty, or the local one was damaged, and he hadn't realized. Ideally, the shard would've been removed with actual medical equipment, but it wasn't the first time he'd had to improvise in the field.

Finding a neatly folded square of slightly grease-splattered cloth in one of his belt pouches, he passed it over as well. Tom was shaking, perhaps too much to do what was necessary, and Corey's eyes darted rapidly from side to side as he searched the officer's face, searching for something for him to hold onto. He couldn't comfort him the way he did other Spartans, it simply wasn't enough for the vast majority of people. "Pop open the biofoam canister, ready to use. One layer of cloth around your fingers, to avoid any potential charge transference," Corey told him, forced steadiness in his tone. It might have been seconds, minutes or even hours since he took the hit, but he could feel that he needed this dealt with now. "Take hold of the end in one hand, slide it towards you, gently, as straight as you can. Biofoam goes in straight after."

"Okay." The Commander breathed, his fingers shaking.

"Tom, look at me. The Master Chief believed in you, all those years ago. If he were here today, he would still. I know that because I do. Right here and now. You can do this." Lasky's eyes hardened, his jaw setting at the mention of John, the confidence that he'd shown in Tom all those years ago still stirred something in him now. He wouldn't let him down.

His gauntlet-clad fist squeezed his battle rifle with enough force that the casing creaked, cracking under his powerful grip, heat, and cold, as well as jolts of electrical charge, coursing through the area of the wound as the subanese crystal shivered its way free. Tom inserted the biofoam end, and the sensation changed, a combination of a crawling itch, pain, and relief blending themselves together as the life-saving substance did its work.

"Save some, Tom." He gestured towards the crystal. "Coat that in it, and let's get it into the canister. It's rare that we see them like this outside of lab conditions, maybe it'll give us new answers." He was in too much pain to smile with any feeling, so out of reflex, two fingers came up in front of his mouth, swiping across quickly, as the Commander frowned, then realization set in.

[ask-secretagentsquad]

Monster of the Past

Lukas met Jesse outside of the room after he got changed and they both headed off, passing the other rooms with patients still reacting to the fear and trauma after their own life support attacked them with a sort of dread that couldn't be explained. It felt like fear, or worry, but neither Jesse nor Lukas could really place what they felt.

They left the infirmiry wing together, going back to the elevator. As Lukas pressed the down arrow, instead of it lighting up green as usual, it lit up a bright purple and began flashing on and off. The numbers above the elevator flickered between random floors, before glitching out and being replaced with a blurry icon that neither of the agents could place. This sure disturbed them both even more, and the just decided to take the stairs and keep the questions stowed away.

Opening the doors to the control room, they were both instantly met with yelling and panic. Sirens were blaring in a bright violet color and the main monitor was fitzing out. Met before Jesse and Lukas was the face of a monster from myth. The Witherstorm logo.

Olivia quickly ran over to both of them, pushing through technicians trying to figure out what was going on.

"Jesse! Lukas!" Olivia grabbed them both by the arm, pulling them through the crowd and back over to her computer, "Lukas, it's really great to see you're doing this much better, but we've got well-- a serious problem."

"I can see, what's going on? Does anyone know?" Lukas replied without missing a beat.

"No idea.. All we know is our computers are locked down and we've got the face of a long forgotten organization laughing at us."

"It was from what, 1937? I thought they were taken down a long time ago.." Jesse muttered.

"They were! That's what's sent everybody into a panic frenzy! We all know what the Witherstorm did, even if it did it that long ago, and now they may be back," Olivia was typing like mad into the computer, trying to fight back against the virus, but the Witherstorm logo kept glitching back onto the screen every time.

"Jesse? Do you think this could have anything to do with the 'big issue' you were mentioning earlier?" Lukas asked lightly, receiving a terrified look from Jesse in return.

"Oh God. That 'big issue' was an atom bomb! If the Witherstorm is back, what if they were Romeo's buyers? Oh no.. We should have taken down Romeo while we had the chance..."

"Okay, don't worry Jess-- we're gonna fix this, but right now, let's focus on fixing the virus attacking our building--" Lukas tried to have some sort of comfort in his worried voice.

"Right right.. Current problems--"

While Olivia was still typing furiously, Radar ran over.

"Ivor sent me! I'm going to try and fix the computer from the inside. Maybe there's a corrupted chip I can get out and shut it down for a bit!" he had to slightly yell over the commotion in the room.

"Alright, try everything!" Olivia moved her chair back, and Radar slid under the desk, pulling off a panel and getting to work. He pushed through wires, finding a lot more sparking and torched chips than he'd expected. He grabbed onto one, tugging at it, before a large shock was delivered through his arm and throughout the rest of him in seconds.

At Radar's scream, Lukas cried out and crippled to the ground just the same, as well as a few other people in the room who were working in panels or with wires.

"Lukas-!"

"Radar-?!"

Jesse caught Lukas before he fell entirely to the ground, holding him tight and feeling him trembling once again in his arms. Meanwhile Olivia quickly pulled the twitching and shaking Radar out from under the desk and tried to calm him.

"What the hell-?!" Olivia turned to Jesse for some sort of answer.

"Lukas got shocked like this in the infirmiry too, when he was hooked up-- don't touch the wires!! Tell everyone else! It's even more dangerous working in the exposed circuits!"

Lukas was tensed up once again, caught off guard by the new shock and struggling to keep his breathing under control.

"God-- the stress- right-- let's get you out of here- Olivia! I'm coming back to get Radar in a second! Grab whatever seperate computers you can find and pack up! We need to get out of here! Meet me by the van! We'll try and figure out how to stop this thing there, away from it!" Jesse called to Olivia, who nodded and ran off to warn the others of the hazards of the wires and to pack up her things.

Jesse picked up Lukas and ran out of the room, heading right for the exit. He ran into Axel, quite literally, on the way.

"Oh, jeez. Axel! Thank goodness. There's chaos in Control. We need to evacuate now- take Lukas, get him to our van, I need to go get Radar, and we need to dip as soon as fucking possible!"

Axel didn't question a word. He was the best bodyguard an agent could ask for, and instantly nodded and took Lukas up carefully.

"I'll meet you there. Hurry! I've been hearing gunshots, and was coming to check on you."

"Gunshots? From where?"

"Down the hall. They're getting closer! Just hurry! And make sure Olivia is with you. Ivor is boarded up in the conference room with a few other guys, he should be safe."

"Alright, go!"

Jesse turned and ran back to control, bursting back through the doors and going right to Radar as Axel took off towards the exit. Radar was taken by complete surprise by the electricity and had gone mostly numb from the shock. Jesse picked him up with ease, motioned quickly to Olivia who was running out of her cubical with a briefcase and a laptop, and ran back out the doors. Olivia was following closely behind.

Jesse did eventually hear the gunshots, and they were much much closer, just as Axel had said. There were cries and yells coming from down the halls, and just as Jesse was a few feet from the exit, a massive explosion sent him and Olivia flying to the side. Jesse tried to hold onto Radar and protect him from the fall, and he rolled to a stop, landing beside the lobby desk. Olivia landed further away, back by another door. Shards of broken glass were thrown everywhere, and the body of a soldier, scorched from the explosion, landed dead center in the room.

Everyone's senses were sent into a blur. Jesse could barely get up, and through his foggy vision he could make out two figures that looked almost identical. Dressed in the same outfit, same colors, each with two bright and almost blinding purple eyes. They looked over the group before moving on, heading into control, where more gunshots were heard, and another explosion went off.

Axel came running back into the building, grabbing all three of the downed agents and managing to get back out without attracting the enemies attention.

Eventually, Jesse came back to his senses. He was sitting in the front seat of the van, beside Lukas, who'd also come back around. Olivia was in the back of the van, tending to Radar, who had gone unconscious from the blast and was still reacting to the shock. Axel was in the driver's seat, and they'd already gotten far enough away from the building that the commotion was no longer being heard. They were nearly out of the massive city, to be exact.

Jesse groaned and rubbed his head, flinching lightly at the feeling of what felt like hundreds of paper cuts around his entire body.

"Jesse-?" the familiar voice of Lukas was the first he heard, and he felt a hand on his cheek.

"Hnng... Ouch.." Jesse mumbled out a few inaudible words before just leaning into Lukas and shutting his eyes.

"We.. Should find a place to rest. Let's find Petra.. Maybe she can help Radar as well.." Lukas said to Axel, who nodded and took a turn down another street.

"I'll try and contact her. She must've heard what's happened at HQ already, knowing her..." Olivia said from the back.

"Oh yeah.. I think everyone knows what happened at HQ after those bombs."

"Bombs..?" Jesse muttered mostly to himself.

"Bombs... As we were leaving all the windows on the second floor were taken out bad by a huge explosion.. The top half of the building is still in flames, probably.. We can't go back, not now.." Lukas replied lightly, putting an arm around Jesse to keep him close and comfortable.

"I hope Ivor's alright.."

"I don't doubt he's alright.. He used to be an agent like us, he can handle a lot.."

Olivia spoke up from the back again, the clicking from her laptop keys stopping.

"Hey, guys! Petra actually replied. She's already waiting for us outside of town. Hopefully she has a trauma kit, or a medpack, or something- Radar's not doing so hot and he needs any help he can get.."

~~Tech Time continues~~

(Jesse, Lukas, Olivia, and Axel are available. Until further notice, consider Radar down for the count.)

[aquaticalay]

Light

Bucky barnes X reader (part 4/?)

In which the reader is a healer, and will try to heal Bucky's mind while their feelings for each other flourish.

Word count: 1115

This chapter is set in Civil War.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

You watched Steve carefully as he met with Sharon from the tiny beetle car you were in. You couldn't hear clearly what they were saying. They seemed conflicted, somewhere between drowned in emotions and nothing at all.

"Can you move your seat up?" Bucky asked Sam impatiently. You were besides Bucky in the back seat of the beetle. You, being small, had plenty of space for your feet to move. Bucky? Not so much. The poor soldier was squished between two seats. Compared to you, he was massive, and that didn't help much.

"No," Sam said sternly, not missing a beat in his reply. Bucky and Sam seemed to have this friendly rivalry, one you could not wrap around your head. It was weird, but you honestly thought it was sort of adorable the way they interacted, like little kids you used to watch in the playground as a child.

Bucky scooted left, closer to you. "What the hell are you doing, soldier?" You said sternly, but a little smirk playing on your face, looking at him. You honestly didn't feel like he was violating your privacy, but you felt like you were squished between the window and six foot worth of muscle. "Compromising," he answered a hint of smile on his face, as if he was happy he actually got close to you, as if this was his plan all along.

You giggled at his behaviour. Who knew this assassin could be so childish?

"Will you two be quiet? You're making me puke," Sam teased mercilessly earning a playful frown from you.

The three of you saw Steve kiss Sharon, and when he looked back at you, the three of you were smirking, nodding at him in his accomplishment.

-

Before you knew it, you were at the airport, meeting with Wanda and Clint, and a newbie, you heard, called Scott Lang. You heard he has a peculiar talent, shrinking. But who were you to judge? You're an elf.

You just didn't know how a human could shrink so small and still be alive. You decided not to complain, since it was not your expertise. The world must be weirder than you thought, and science must be evolving fast these days. On days like these, you wished you were more like Tony Stark, not in his ego, but in his intelligence, knowing how everything around you works.

"Cap," Clint greeted, and Steve nodded apologetically and said, "you know I wouldn't have called if I had any other choice."

"Hey, man, you're doing me a favor," Clint replied, and continued, "Besides, I owe a debt."

"Thanks for having our backs," you thanked, getting out of the car, Bucky helping you. You stretched out, since it was a long trip.

"It was time to get off my ass," Wanda said, smiling at you. You and Wanda had gotten close over time, and you were glad to have her by your side. She was not only a powerful ally, but a great friend.

"How bout our other recruit?" Steve asked, and you figured he was certainly talking about Scott.

"He's ready to go," Clint said, opening the door to his van, revealing a sleeping man, startled by the sound of the sliding door, "put a little coffee in 'em, but he should be good."

He must be Lang.

Scott got out of the car, asking Clint, "what time zone is this?"

Clint didnt answer his question and tilted his jaw to Cap, "C'mon, C'mon."

Scot finally realized that captain America was right in front of him and he seemed to freak out a little. You smirked at his behaviour and he shook cap's hand. "Captain America!"

"Mr. Lang," Steve greeted calmly.

"It's an honor," said Scott, "I'm shaking your hand too long. Wow! This is awesome! Captain America!" He seemed to be in awe as he glanced at you, pointing at you, "I know you, too, you're great."

You nodded, acknowledging him with a slight smile.

"Geez," said Scott, turning back to cap, "look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so thinks for thanking of me," he said nervously.

Steve nodded.

"Hey, man," said Scott to Sam, and Sam answered lightly, "What's up tic tac?"

"Uh, good to see you," he said nervously, like he was afraid Sam would beat him up if he said something wrong, "look, what happened last time—"

"It was a great audition, but it will never happen again," said Sam, a little brought into his emotions.

"Did he tell you what we're up against?" You spoke before conflict could arise.

"Something about some... Psycho assasins?" Scott asked to confirm.

Steve nodded, "we're outside the law on this one, so to come with us you're a wanted man."

Scott looked down, "well, what else is new?"

"We should get moving," said Bucky.

"I got a chopper lined up," Clint added.

Suddenly, alarms blared, and Bucky sighed, translating the words for you, "they're evacuating the airport."

You looked down and glanced at cap. You knew the same thought that was on his mind was on yours.

"Stark," you acknowledged.

"Stark?" Scott asked disbelievingly.

Cap didn't answer him. Instead, he said, "suit up."

-

You were with Sam and Bucky when the spider kid showed up. The three of you were running through the terminal as you say an insect-like movement from a person in the red suit, crawling on the glass.

"What the hell is that?" Bucky asked.

"Everyone's got a gimmick now," muttered Sam.

The kid in the red suit broke the glass and kicked Sam square in the chest, missing you by a heartbeat.

Bucky went to lunch the kid, but he blocked the strike easily, leaving Bucky shocked. "You have a metal arm?" Asked the kid, "that is awesome, dude!"

You took this opportunity to kick the kid, sending him across the room as Sam picked him up and sent him flying.

"You have the right to remain silent!" Said the kid, trying to off of Sam's grip, and he eventually succeeded.

The rest of the fight was a blur to you. You acted upon your instincts and you were alive. That alone is good enough for you.

The next thing you know, you, cap, and the others were face to face with those who signed the accords.

You remembered charging, and you remembered stopping T'challa from murdering Bucky.

Everything else was unclear in your memory. It was too much to take in.

That was until the fight stopped and you were arrested. But the most important thing was that Bucky and Steve are save, and they were on their way to stop Zemo.

-

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[harlockauxillia30k-blog]

The Siege of Terra

The Imperial Cruiser Angelus had rotten luck, it had to be said.

Exiting warpspace after a semi-blind jump into the system, the Angelus emerged amid a traitor crusade battlegroup of multiple battlecruisers. After a minutes delay, the Angelus’ void shields began to be battered by multiple close-in broadsides. Though it tried to answer, the ship was completely outmatched and outgunned. Though those aboard it had little-time to take it in, the Sol system was a complete mess. Imperial defense had already fallen back to Terra herself, already legions of steel were dueling on Mars. Already a dozen other rocks and planetoids had been invaded. Now, Terra stood, a gleaming golden pearl bleeding red, as vast swathes of the ecumenopolis burned from planet-wide fires that consumed entire hab blocks. Dead dreadnoughts careened into the planets surface, smashing layers of cities down into silent dead rubble. And all along it, along with the glimmers of cities, small lines drawn haphazardly in all directions denoted Imperial forces fighting the traitor legions bitterly for every square inch.

Harlock marveled, even as rounds impacted the voids in front of him. He saw hundreds, thousands maybe, of smaller ships as they dueled in strike craft knife fights in the silence of the void.

When he came to his senses, he saw the characteristic signs of a failing void shield, and turned to his survivors. There was the handful of Centauri riflemen, most of them bandaged and on painkillers, and Melissa, who was having a significant emotional moment as she watched the human race tear itself asunder before her very eyes.

“Listen everyone. In a minute the captain will call for the ship to be abandoned. We will land on Terra. We may be separated. If I don't get to meet any of you again, I want you to know, that it has been my god emperor damned privilege to serve with each one of you. No matter what happens.”

The survivors nodded. Sergeant York spoke up. “Served with you for about a year sir. No finer officer in the star rifles there was, before or since.”

Private Sam bit her lips. “Feth. It’s going down like this. A-alright sir. Thanks. You pulled me out of a burning wreck on Tarentum IX, i still got the scars. Lets pull the Imperium out of hell, yeah?”

Corporal Hayes grunted. “With respect? I always thought you were a son of a bitch that was trying to get us all killed with all the crazy shit we had to put up with. But some of us survived this long. Damned if that isn't providence. Hail the god emperor. May he welcome us all at his side as the heroes who died to save Him.” Hayes produced a small golden bauble, like Harlock’s, and Harlock fished his own out, nodding at the man.

Melissa, in catatonic shock, tore her eyes from a massive imperial superheavy carrier slowly shatter and die as her bow was lanced by a formation of traitor ships.

“There is no god in this universe. No benevolent ones. Not if THIS is what the innocent deserve!” she was shouting, and she wouldn't soon stop. Anyone could see that.

Harlock walked up, calm, and planted a kiss on her lips. “This will be the last time, Klicke. Who said anyone was innocent, here?” and then let her go.

[Musical cue: this track]

“Soldiers of the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles, this regiment has lived for-”

A massive explosion just rocked the ship. The shields were out. Klaxons blared.

“...has lived for over eight centuries. From its first founding, I have fought under its banner, bore witness to its great heights, during the Ullanor wars, on Feros, upon Hesperax, fighting under a dozen legions, regarded and recognized by primarchs and generals. Under this banner have a thousand villains and a million heroes served. It is with my deep resignation, I formally retire the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles. Soldiers of the emperor, present arms!”

The remnants of the regiment saluted and presented arms perfectly in the corridors of the Angelus.

“You are all for a final time DIS-MISSED. You are free citizens of the Imperium. Seek Army logisticians and financiers should you survive the coming trials for your mustering pay and backpay. You are hereby retired. God bless you all, and good luck.”

There was a moment to let that sink in, as the ship rocked and groaned and armsmen and crew dashed about the sad band of veterans.

“Get to the evacuation boats and drop pods men. You too, Adept. If we somehow survive this,the rally point is the Pistoliers Saloon in Port Vangelis, August 3rd, for war stories and drinking contests.”

With sad grins, and a hug or two, the soldiers split up. Some teamed up, hoping in numbers they would survive. Harlock looked at Klicke.

“The adepts have a good chance of having a superior escape route, and may be able to land you in safe imperial territory. Go to them. I’ll find my own way. I always do.” Harlock said, grimly. He was quite certain this was the day he would die.

Yet, he saw no reason to die aboard some random starship. He joined the throngs of soldiers who clamored for the drop pods, launching them immediately. Eventually, he came upon a man in a wide brimmed hat, a captain of armsmen, who commanded a group of terrifying youngsters guarding drop pods. “Officers and men of rank first! The rest of you degenerates second! Wait your turn and be processed, or I’ll process you!”

A man broke from the group and ran for an open pod door.

Zzot.

He lay motionless on the ground, his head smouldering.

“anyone else want to question ship policy?! You!” He pointed at Harlock.

“Thats an officers uniform alright. You’re in Pod 3C. Get moving, your going to be stuck with some commoners though. Can’t be helped.”

Harlock nodded, and walked on, getting in 3C and clicking himself in. He silently thanked that he hadnt ate anything that day; there would be no need to fear throwing up.

The soldiers in the pod were scared out of their minds. One young girl, an armsman, wept as silently as she could. Another, an army trooper, looked like he was going to bounce out of his seat. “Oh come on, let me get some! LET ME GET SOME! HORUS! COME ON!”

Others were in prayer. At least one was, somehow, impossibly, soundly asleep, his vest adorned with a half dozen melta charge cells and a meltagun secured at his side.

Harlock said nothing, and nothing was said to him. In a few moments after securing himself, the pod was launched, and Harlock got a look at just how bad the Angelus had taken it. In another minute or two, it would begin to snap and break apart; a sure sign of complete loss of all hands remaining. Harlock hoped his friends made it out.

Other pods were certainly not lucky. Chaos fighters shot them out of their descent with glee, while one actually impacted an unawareimperial thunderbolt, sending both tumbling on fire, badly smashed into pieces. Harlock’s own had a rocky ride, being struck by hundreds of chunks of space debris from the orbital battle as he approached the burning, glowing city-world of terra.

Harlock closed his eyes as he felt his pod become rocked by traitor flak guns which begged his pod come apart at the seams. It would be a bad landing. It wasnt the best possible transport for the job either. But it would happen all the same.

With a mighty thud. Harlock’s pod smashed into the smouldered, melted remains of a triad of hive spires, flattened and pancaked into a kind of artificial smolten plateau, along with hundreds of other such spires. The landscape was awash with agony, as the occasional skeleton fragment poked out of the ash of the spires occupants and the twisted corrugated metal of towers that once accurately illustrated mankinds unbound ambition, now collapsed to absolute ruin. In the distance, perhaps a few kilometers away, the Imperial palace stood, golden and beautiful, as dark forces and entire titan legions descended upon it. To recount what one could see, even this far away, is the recount the stories of literal angels and demons. Titans fought there, not mere men.

[Musical Cue: this track]

Harlock’s pod opened. The trooper who prayed was given what she had likely asked for, a swift death, as a support beam of the now badly mangled drop pod was planted into her skull, likely killing her mercifully quick. Another soldier was crying as he tried to extract his leg from depressed metal. Harlock knew in an instant his leg would not come without the pod being dismantled. He was as dead as the devotee, he merely did not know it yet.

The one next to him that had shouted lived, however, and had unbuckled himself, kicked the pod door open, grabbed his gear and began sprinting off like mad in the direction of the palace. The sleeper had awoken, presumably when the head restraint on his seat gave way and broke his neck from the whiplash of landing. Now he and his meltagun rested un-used. Harlock picked it up, remembering his dead friend, Tech Sergeant Dienes, and collected as much ammo as he could from the man, before stepping into the burning sunset of the fall of mankind. There were other imperials about too, either from pods, or who were here before, who knew. And the astartes were here. Not the friendly kind, of course. Never them.

Harlock watched an Iron Warriors terminator, strangely alone and separate from his kin (a failed teleportation, perhaps) fire his assault cannon across the plateau, killing at least five imperials that Harlock could see, and immediately dived for cover; a natural bend in the cooled melted slag of the spires. It would take quite a bit of fire from his meltagun to do it, but he was confident this terminator could be killed.

With the courage of a man who knew he was destined to die, the Major dashed forward, meltagun in hand, charges wrapped around his chest like a bandolier. Diving to the side while it strafed opposite Harlock, he fired his first shot in the terminator’s exposed leg joint, near the knee where the armor segmented the most. It was a cheap shot, as the terminator did not see Harlock approach, but effective. It was not clear if the terminator immediately lost use of his leg, or if he melted the servos, but the iron warrior was rooted in place, forced to drag the titanic dead weight of his leg as he turned, assault cannon spinning to attack his assailant. Harlock evaded a swing from his other hand- a powered fist capable of killing him in a single hit, and fired another charge of the meltagun at the terminator.

Another man, bulky, with no sleeves and a red bandana across his forehead, charged with a guttural scream, his flak jacket swinging with his dog tags in the wind, a meltabomb in hand, up to the terminator. Harlock and the terminator ceased their duel, and the major immediately dashed back, diving behind some slag. He heard the assault cannon spit out hot lead, a groan, and a click.

Immense heat washed over Harlock’s body, making him groan. He ached. His soul was broken into pieces. He now simply did as he was meant to. Kill. For the emperor.

With a grunt, Harlock pushed himself up again, supporting himself on the rubble to see what had happened. The terminator was a mess of steamy red ooze and gore as his armor had exploded into pieces. Harlock couldn't find the imperial who did it, until he noticed a lone leg, its owner long gone, hanging off a piece of rockrete.

In the distance, a chainblade whirred, and a warrior of the World Eaters legion stepped forth.

“I know you. You were on Ferros. Come, duel with me, without that weapon. You who would dare kill a brother of mine in close combat.”

Harlock remained silent, and knelt, shielding his body from the marine. After a moment, it charged, firing its bolt-pistol towards Harlock as he whirred up the meltagun. The marine dashed overhead. Harlock pointed the weapon up, and fired... hitting nothing. The world eater had dodged it, and now smacked the weapon out of Harlock’s hands with his boltpistol.

“Khorne will be pleased this day, one way or the other.” the marine growled, assaulting with the fury that would be expected of a berserker warrior.

Harlock dodged and parried, his blade intercepting assault after assault, being forced to dodge point blank hits from a bolt pistol. The marine laughed, seeing Harlock so desperate.

And then in a flash it was decided. A carefully considered shot at the marines melee hand from his plasma pistol sidearm, a parry of the bolt pistol, and a final shot to the head.

Harlock took a side step as the smouldering, twitching body of the world eater died before him, and with a limp from a minor sprain in his legs from the dodging, he picked up his meltagun.

It had been weeks since his last juvenat injection. He had never felt so old and alone. With his melta, he leaned against some of the rubble-slag, and sighed in exhaustion. He had been tired of fighting for so many years. He didn't care anymore. There was nothing left to fight for.

He wandered his plateau, creeping from cover to cover as more marines, seemingly at random, arrived. He ambushed another iron warrior kill team, killing one marine with a good melta shot to the head, a sturdy krak grenade for the next, and a final duel resolved only by stabbing his knife, given to him by an old friend in the auxillia, through the reinforced body glove covering the marines neck.

For hours, he fought. Sometimes, he would find a random imperial army trooper, assist them for a time, until eventually they died. Harlock remained there, waging his own private war as if on a chessboard, ignorant of the greater struggle. Unaware that at that moment his god emperor was aboard horus’ flagship, or that there had been a godlike defense of the palace gate, or of the heroism of the imperial fists... none of it was clear to him, as he watched the wrecks of ships smash apart spires, as deathstrike missiles detonated atomics in the distance, as millions upon millions of warriors fought below and above, here, in this strategically insignificant spot harlock deemed his final stand, Harlock fought quietly. Desperately. Like the killing machine that 800 years only of war reduced him to. A broken spirit. A broken man.

Eventually, days and days later, Imperial recon teams sweeping areas of the planet for survivors and enemies, found Harlock sat upright, in the middle of the plateau, surrounded by the dead. The old, ancient haggard man appeared to be dead, surprising the team upon his eventual glance towards the Imperial Army troopers. Had it not been in the wake of the Horus Heresy, had it not been for the wounding of the emperor and the bloody aftermath of the traitors demise upon Terra, Harlock would have been given a medal for the things the imperials saw on that plateau of corrugated metal and ruin.

But alas, it is the fate of the infantryman to be unsung, and often unmourned.With the aid of anotherman, Harlock limped to a rhino, and spent the next three months in medical care, recovering in a mass hospital that had been converted out of a shopping district.

The Siege of Terra was over. The Horus Heresy, in its most dramatic act, was over. But the galaxy fought on in bloody wars anyway.

Colonel Harlock was given command of the 93rd Centauri Star Rifles eventually. He never knew what became of the original survivors. He never truly wanted to know. All that was certain was that on August 3rd, in Pistoliers Saloon in Port Vangelis, one of the few cities not to be completely obliterated by Imperial forces in the reconquest of Centauri Prime, Harlock sat alone, consumed by thought, and deep pain. He spoke to no one, and after the day concluded, threw on his colonel’s cloak, and prepared to depart for the planet Hesperax with his new regiment. There was a chaos insurrection to put down, and the 93rd would do it- or be put to death.

[Music Cue: this track]

///

Imperial Historical Footnote: Almost no record of the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles exists today in the modern Imperium at large. Its deeds, and sacrifices, are preserved only in a small monument erected on the world of Titan-Secundus, which reads as follows:

“The Soldiers of the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles fought and bled here. We shed our lives for the Imperium and her emperor, so all men may live free, and that precious few need to sacrifice as we have done in the future. Mourn not our fallen, Remember not our deeds. Know only this, reader: great men have gone before you to sacrifice for this, our Imperium. Do not let our sacrifices be in vain.”

The monument now rests in front of the Titan-Secundus Schola Progenium in its courtyard.

///

[wanderingworldwarrior]

Of Twisted Emotions - Chapter One: Nothing More

The sounds of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s evacuation are loud and chaotic, but Loki Laufeyson neither cares nor notices the minor distraction. He rises from where he kneels, the tesseract's energy leaving wisps of smoke that curl and twist around his body. 

 His travels through space had been easier, much easier than he had anticipated. Almost natural, he would say, with the tesseract's power. 

 Loki's eyes casually sweep the room, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He is on Midgard, just as planned. The room he finds himself in is large, and the prince guesses that it rests deep within the earth. The cavernous area is lined with glowing technologies, equipment working hard to read and understand a power far too great for humanity.

 The tesseract. 

 It sits within the belly of a machine, and he has to force himself to look away from it. 

 There are mortals in the room, and the agents with guns creep closer with wary caution. However, there are three who watch the God of Mischief in a different manner, whose gazes cut between him and the ornate, golden weapon clasped tightly in his fist.

 The man dressed in black, the one with the eyepatch that reminds Loki too much of his family, is the first to speak. "Sir. Please, put down the spear." 

 This is not a request, but an order given in a deep, commanding tone. Loki raises an eyebrow, pausing to look down at his golden scepter with an expression of something akin to amusement. 

 It's time. 

 In less than a second, before Nick Fury has time to blink, Loki thrusts the blade of the weapon towards him. The blue gem nested in the ornate scepter flashes, and a burst of energy flies towards S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director. 

 Taking out mortals is almost too easy, especially when compared to a lifetime of facing Asgardian foes. Loki is a blur of motion, cutting through the agents as if they were paper rather than flesh and blood. Their weapons cannot break his skin – guns firing lead bullets that rapidly ping off his armor one after the other. 

 The Asgardian leaps into the air, Earth's gravity not quite heavy enough to pull him back right away, and he comes down blade first onto a soldier. The man's breath leaves his lungs in a quiet gasp as he dies, and Loki is disgusted at the weakness. 

 More guns fire from behind the prince, and he spins around impossibly fast, his hand flashing as his knives fly through the air and meet their targets. Another man attacks from the side, and Loki points his scepter towards the foe. The��resulting energy sears through the agent's chest, killing him before his body hits the ground. 

 It is quiet now, save for the alarms blaring in the distance, continuing to signal the need for escape. Broken machines spark and hiss, flashing readings to no one. Loki watches those left in the room, carefully wiping blood from his scepter's golden blade. 

 The man with the eyepatch lives, as do several other of his agents. They look to their director, as if awaiting orders. Loki notes that they've been smart enough to stand down after witnessing his carnage, and he decides he'll make use of them. 

 The Asgardian takes a step forward, habitually spinning his weapon, and is surprised when a fiery-eyed agent attempts to block his path. There is hatred in this man's eyes; an all too familiar burning. No fear lives there. 

 The man goes for his pistol, but Loki is quicker. He grasps the agent's arm, studying him carefully as he struggles. "You have heart," Loki decides, nodding slowly. 

 He brings the scepter up to rest on the center of the man's chest, the sharp blade barely pushing against him. 

 The effect is instantaneous once the power takes hold. Clint Barton holsters his gun, his sharp gaze overtaken by a mass of starry darkness. And then blue clears the black, leaving irises of bright, piercing cobalt. 

 The Asgardian notes the quiver strung across the man's back. An archer. An odd choice of weapon for a Midgardian. 

 "Keep watch, won't you?" Loki asks with a smile. 

 And then it is easy, it is nothing for the prince to move on and do the same to the other nearby agents, the gem within his scepter glowing brightly. 

 It is a commotion near the side of the room that makes him turn. Someone has rushed in, and they grapple with the archer. At first Loki does not recognize the intruder. And when he does, he feels nothing but calm curiosity at the reason for her presence. 

 There is a flash of light, a staff appearing in the girl's hands as she wards off the agent. Loki twirls his scepter again, pondering over whether to send others to deal with the situation. 

 "I would suggest something with a little more electricity to it," Loki comments idly, his gaze already sliding towards another noise. 

 The director is attempting to escape, with the tesseract in tow. 

 "Please don't," Loki requests, meeting the one good eye of Nick Fury. "I still need that." 

 There's a loud zap followed by a short cry. A body falls to the floor, and Loki knows the girl has been dealt with. 

 "This doesn't have to get any messier," Fury warns. 

 Loki laughs softly, the quiet noise devoid of any humor. "Oh, but it does. Much messier." 

 "Who are you?" Fury asks, and even Loki is not sure which emotion lies within the question. 

 Is it anger? Incredulousness? There is something there, an almost exasperation, that hints at something dangerous. It makes the prince smile. "I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose." 

 Fury snorts derisively. A bold move, in Loki's opinion. But it is not the director who responds to the Asgardian's statement. 

 "Loki? Brother of Thor?" 

 Loki fights the scowl that threatens to spread across his features. Thor. It is his relation to Thor that defines him to these people. He turns to the man who spoke and recognizes that he needs this one, too. The scientist. The tip of the golden scepter presses just so against his chest. 

 Director Fury watches, his eye widening slightly at the sight of Erik Selvig's gaze being overtaken with an unnatural blackness. He makes himself speak to Loki of Asgard. "We have no quarrel with your people." 

 The statement is laughable, and so Loki's attention is again directed towards the one-eyed man. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot, nor does prey understand the motives of the hunter. Tell me, which do you think you are? Or is it that unclear?" 

 His last question is more of a statement, a flat coldness seeping from underneath his casual manner. 

 "Loki?" 

 The girl is awake. The archer has left her alive. Was it a fault of the agent, or had Loki subconsciously willed this? She could be useful, he tells himself to justify this action, to override other possible thoughts of sentiment. It is logical, after all. 

 "Healer," he greets your friend, Willow. 

 "Wait," Fury demands, a gloved hand rising to point between Loki and Willow, "you two know each other?" 

 She's staring at the prince, her eyes wide in disbelief, and Fury's words do not seem to reach her ears. "What are you doing here?" she whispers, carefully rising to her feet. She holds a hand to her side, where the archer struck her. "Where have you been?" 

 He watches her take tentative steps forward, and he turns to keep both the girl and Fury in his sight at all times. "I've been on a grand journey," Loki informs Will, a smile once more twisting across his face. "Seen sights you cannot imagine. Learned things you will never comprehend." 

 "But... but what about...." And she says it. The one thing that breaks through his armor, a single word he does not wish to hear, that he cannot hear. 

 She says it. 

 She says 

 your 

 name. 

 He fights within his mind, pushing things down as soon as they arise: a wash of memories, feelings, sentiments, attachments. His jaw clenches, his muscles drawn tight. And in the end, he wins. 

 Your friend is still watching him, waiting on an answer. But there's nothing that will make what he has done okay. He is beyond retribution, which is something he feels no need to explain. How can he? The girl has walked to him now, her accusing gaze staring up at him. 

 "You would not understand, Healer. And you shall not get in my way." 

 And he lifts his scepter, the blue gem glowing brightly. It reflects in her eyes as he brings it closer. 

 --- 

 Walking towards the city of Asgard feels surreal. It's been a few months since you last returned, and you cringe at the thought of seeing the golden palace appear in the distance. The closer you grow to the bustling city, the more your mood begins to dip. You're sliding quickly towards apathy, and those who normally keep your side begin to give you space. 

 All except Bjorn. 

 He's told you that his name means 'bear', although you think the term a misnomer. The man isn't a hulking brute like some of the other soldiers you march with. His hair is curly and dark, his skin the warm color of sandy earth. He is stoic, but pleasant to have conversation with. He had been the first to speak to you when you had first set out with the company. 

 It was nice to hear something other than whispers. 

 At the thought, words cascade through your mind, bringing with them a flash of heated anger. 

 … He left her, and right before the wedding, too.... 

 … the Prince of Wickedness and the Bloody Warrior.... 

 … why do you think he …. 

 … not worthy of a prince, anyway. Even him.... 

 … perhaps he isn't missing. Maybe she offed him.... 

 You do your best to ignore the echoes of the past. It's been over a year. No one speaks about it anymore. 

 Not where you can hear, at least. 

 "Buck up, now," Bjorn insists, nudging your shoulder. "It'll be good to see the city again." 

 "I guess," you reply, your voice holding no real emotion. 

 It makes your walking companion frown. "At least something will be going on in Asgard. I'm bored of roaming the countryside. Our last battle was ages ago." 

 "A week isn't 'ages ago'," you correct, shrugging. 

 But a year is.... 

 You beat the thought back, but it doesn't scurry away as fast as you'd like it to. A group of soldiers nearby break out into raucous laughter, and you turn your face away to hide your scowl. 

 "A dark look at something as bright as laughter," Bjorn comments, and you cut your eyes to his. 

 You sigh, a small smile lifting the corner of your mouth. "You can go join them, you know. Sounds like Tormund told a mighty funny joke." 

 "A crass joke, I'd imagine," Bjorn says, chuckling. "By now, we've heard them all. He's not good at making up any new ones." 

 You allow yourself a short laugh, and then fall into silence once more. 

 The sun is slowly disappearing over the horizon, and the captain calls for everyone to set up for the night. 

 Odin Allfather had offered you such a position, but you had declined. For months you'd set out on your own, doing the king's bidding, fighting his chosen battles. Eventually, others joined you. You did not care who you were with, although you always preferred to go alone. 

 Thor, the god of thunder, and his companions accompanied your battles at times. However, nowadays, the Warriors Three and their prince are kept too busy within the city to travel. You had thought to be alone again, but Odin had instructed you to fight alongside the Asgardian soldiers. And so you had. 

 You lie on your back, staring up into the night sky. You can hear the fire crackling, hear the conversations of your campmates. You're tired, but you cannot sleep. You're worried over what your dreams will bring you tonight. 

 "So, what are your plans, warrior? Once we reach the city?" 

 You glance over at your fellow soldier. Bjorn lays on his bedroll, his face also upturned to the starry heavens. The night is clear and cloudless. 

 "I've got a ceremony to attend," you say, looking to the sky once more. "Meeting a friend, and then we're both going. It's a wizard thing." 

 "A wizard thing?" Bjorn asks curiously. 

 You grimace. "Sorcerer thing. Whatever, you get what I mean." 

 The man laughs. "Yes, by now I do." 

 It helps to have a companion, a friendly voice to listen to. Still, you want to fall silent, to let your mind ease into unconsciousness. But you haven't shaken your apprehension. Your dreams as of late... they've been nothing more than memories, replayed before your closed eyes. You don't want them tonight. 

 They hurt too much. 

 --- 

 You wake with a choked shout, darkness flaring out as a dagger forms in your palm. You're staring frantically around the room, your eyes seeking danger. Sweating and shaking, your mind replays your dream, the blood vivid, the pain all too real. 

 And then a cool hand wraps around your wrist, easing the dagger from your grasp. 

 "You're all right, love," a voice soothes. "It's fine." 

 Only now can you truly take in your surroundings. The familiar, extravagant  room, the silky bedsheets beneath your legs. The moonlight filtering in through the emerald curtains highlights the table where you love to draw, your bag sitting in one of the chairs. 

  The cool hand pulls you back, your dagger disappearing from his pale fingers and into the shadows from whence it came. You sink down to the bed, your warm back pressed against the smooth skin of his chest.

 "A dream," you murmur sleepily, your fingers intertwining with his as he lays an arm across your waist. 

 You can feel his breath in your hair, his arm hugging you closer to him. "A dream, and nothing more," Loki whispers. 

 And then you wake. 

Masterlist

[thehardonreviewer-blog]

Mobile Suit Gundam 0079 Review

Mobile Suit Gundam, a franchise with a multitude of sequels, prequels, spin offs and other related series bearing the name, it makes anybody wanting to get into the series confused as to where to start and with good reason since there’s just so much Gundam in the world however, just like any other franchise I strongly suggest starting off where series first began with Mobile Suit Gundam 0079. It came out during the era of great sci-fi space series such as, Star Wars, Star Trek and Battlestar Glactica, and like all those series Mobile Suit Gundam would heavily influence science fiction, specifically the mecha genre of anime for decades to come. Now let’s see why this show is a classic.

A little background info as to what is happening before the start of the show, it’s the distant future where mankind has achieved the ability to live out in space in large cylindrical space colonies and has been for almost a hundred years. One space colony however decided to become independent from the rule of the Earth Federation, that colony was the Principality of Zeon, a fascist military dictatorship ruled by the Zabis family with Degwin Zabis being the head of the Zabis, and used a new type of weapon called mobile suits, which are large mechanical suits of armor used for warfare, to give them an early edge in what would be call the One Year War. After the Federation suffered countless losses to Zeon forces they decided to create a new mobile suit, one with whose capabilities vastly surpassed any Zaku II, the common grunt mobile suit of the Zeon military, and it was designed by Tem Ray which he gave it the designation of the RX-78-2 or as we know it Gundam.

The plot starts us off in space as we see two Zakus attempting to sneak into the space colony Side 7 to destroy a new prototype Federation mobile suit. The whole colony is on high alert and issued an evacuation order of all personal onboard. This is where we meet two of main cast Fraw Bow; a young caring optimistic and loving girl, who came to help her dorky aloof friend Amuro Ray who we find tinkering with some electronics despite the fact there’s loud sirens blaring out for people to leave the colony. They try to reach a bomb shelter of sorts but Amuro goes out to look for his father and conveniently stumbles upon the manual for Gundam after which he gets inside the mobile suit and manages to destroy the Zakus attacking the colony. Then Amuro with the aid of the Gundam helps everyone escape the colony in a top secret new military space ship known as the White Base, which would serve to be the new home of the people of Side 7 for pretty much the remainder of the One Year War.

After all that without going too much into spoilers, we meet what will be the White Base crew including; Bright Noa, a fresh young faced officer in the Federation army that gets promoted to the de facto captain of the White Base after the original captain died shortly after their escape from Side who is challenged with leading a bunch of civilians to fight and survive in a war that they were all just thrusted into without warning, Mirai Yashima, a navigations expert who is very motherly and caring and is often seen as the voice of reason in the ship, Sayla Mass, a medic who is a very kind sweet caring young woman but is clearly hiding something about her past, Kai Shiden, a vile disrespectful punk who always gets on people’s nerves but deep down is a good guy that cares about his friends and comrades and of course there is Fraw and Amuro.

The crew is one of the strong points of this anime as they all grow together in a natural way, at first they don’t know each other and would often be at each other’s throats, but by constantly fighting alongside one another they built a strong sense of trust and friendship. Like its contemporaries at the time like Star Wars or Star Trek, Mobile Suit Gundam is very character driven, you get invested in all these characters because they have depth to them and don’t act like one dimensional cardboard cutouts like characters in mecha series before Gundam. You feel the pain that the crew goes through and hope they find a place to live peacefully despite being under constant threat of attack from the forces of Zeon. You see the original Gundam had little to do with the machines but more about the adventure that all the characters go through, sure seeing giant robots fight is great but it was only to enhance an already great space opera. Mobile Suit Gundam uses mecha to show you a story and not to use a story just to show cool mecha doing things.

However if you’re not into seeing character development and want some mecha action then Gundam doesn’t disappoint in that field. The fight scenes have a feel to them like early tank warfare whenever they are fighting on land and by that I mean that in one or two hits the mobile suit usually get destroyed so the pilots have to be very careful and methodic in how they approach combat but in space the fights tend to feel like a mix of fighter jets and tank warfare as there are 360 degrees in which you can fight in space it really does make for great tense battles that are memorable and entertaining to watch. One fight I love personally is when Amuro has to fight a Zeon officer by the name of Ramba Ral, see before this Amuro had no problem dealing with rookies in Zakus so Amuro built an overconfidence thinking no Zeon pilot can beat him thanks to his experience and data collected from previous fights, but in comes Ramba who overpowers him in his Gouf mobile suit and it’s like nothing Amuro has dealt with before it takes him back and shows that overconfidence can in fact be a slow and insidious killer. That fight is great because there’s actual tension and stakes to lose because Amuro is fully aware that if he fails to fight off any Zeon mobile suit then everyone on board the White Base is as good as dead. That’s why a lot of the fights are so good in this series they aren’t just a mish mash of high speed action with laser beams fired everywhere, it doesn’t matter how well choreographed a fight is if there is no tension or purpose to the fight then it just serves to be nothing more than just eye candy. Of course, to be fair there are some fights in Gundam 0079 that are just nothing and are there just because they needed some action in the episode.

Now it would be foolish not to talk about one of the best villains in all of anime, Char Aznable. Char is cunning mysterious, ruthless to those in his way, yet has a soft side for his lost sister Artesia. It’s established very early on that Char and Amuro are rivals because Amuro, a virtually rookie pilot, managed to beat one of Zeon’s best pilots and elude him and the humiliation of being defeated by him ignites a fire in his eyes to beat Amuro. It should be mentioned that Char in essence laid the foundation for a new character archetype because after him in other Gundam series as well as other anime shows or in video games, now to understand what makes a character a Char is simple; having blonde or very light hair, wearing a mask or some kind of helmet to conceal their true identity, be associated with the color red, clearly has some kind of hidden agenda, tends to be a sympathetic villain, prefers skill and speed over brute strength, and stands as the main rival of the protagonist. Now you can find loads of examples of characters that are clearly inspired by Char such as; Zechs from Gundam Wing, Shin from Fist of the North Star, Griffith from Berserk, Protoman from Megaman, Sirius from Fire Emblem, Godot from Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, and Schwartzwald from The Big O.

There is a political side to Gundam and it stems from the ideology from the former head of Side 3, Zeon Zum Deikun, who wanted independence for all spacenoids (people who are born and live in space colonies) from the control of the Earth Federation and believed that spacenoids are the future of humanity are the next step in the evolution of humans a “new type” as it would be later called as. New types are humans who are believed to possess superhuman reflexes and a somewhat psychic ability making them unbelievably talented mobile suit pilots. Before Zeon Zum Deikun could enact his plan to make Side 3 an independent space colony, he mysteriously died and in comes Degwin Zabi who became the new leader of Side 3 and soon became a dictator and with him his family who would all serve in the One Year War as leaders of the Zeon military. Ghiren Zabi would act as Degwin’s second in command and he is about as evil as they get, I mean at one point he openly admits to being a follower of Adolf Hitler and has no problems killing anybody who doesn’t fit into his perfect world, Garma Zabi, the youngest of the Zabis, is a high ranking officer that has shown promise in being a military leader but is pompous and over confident, Kycillia Zabi, is the only daughter of Degwin but she is just as cold blooded and ruthless as her brothers, and finally there is Dozal Zabi, a giant scar covered proud general in the Zeon Military and out of all the Zabis Dozal seems to be possibly the least evil since he is just a general doing his job in trying to win the war he doesn’t have any evil ambitions he just seeks glory in combat and is a loving father and husband.

Despite the fact that the Zeons would basically become space Nazis, the Earth Federation aren’t the all around good guys, I mean they threaten the White Base crew with life in prison just because they don’t want to keep on fighting in the war and just want to leave and live normal lives again and keep in mind there were children on board so yes they actually threaten to imprison underage children for not wanting to fight in the war. Also a lot of Federation soldiers act like complete scumbags like getting drunk in Amuro’s mother’s house and wrecked the place and also treating an old woman like shit and refused to pay for fruit from her stand. This proves a very interesting point about war because in reality there are no good or bad when it comes to the sides of the war because they are fought with people and people are good but can also be complete jerks. War is not as clear cut as some movies make it out to be and Gundam shows a more human side to war. Not every soldier is a blind follower of their side’s beliefs in fact a lot serve because they have to or wants to help protect the ones they care about.

In conclusion I believe this series is easily one my favorite but also one of the most important animes in history. It built a legend and created a much beloved universe that led to an enormously popular franchise. Mobile Suit Gundam 0079 on its own is a very enjoyable series with 42 episodes it’s an easy watch but if you want a more condensed version of 0079 there are 3 movies that just show the most important segments of the series and with better animations which I would highly recommend if you want to get into Gundam but don’t want to see the entire episodic show then the movies do a great job giving you an more focused experience. How does it stand in comparison to later Gundam series, well I would still put this series in my top 5 favorite Gundam series but overall there are some that surpass it like its sequel Zeta Gundam or the movie F91. It’s a great start to an amazing franchise and stands the test of time as being one of the best mecha series and I would highly suggest to anyone that wants to either get into mecha, Gundam or just anime in general this is one series that you must watch.