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faceless-memories-sf · 6 months ago

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Chapter Two: Post-Human

It wasn’t the first time Argo took a shower with handcuffs—but it was his first time while being an actual prisoner. Although he could break out of them at any time with ease, he had enough respect for the pirate-cosplaying captain that he didn’t want to break her spare pair, and wanted to keep up the illusion that she was in charge. The illusion would be important later. At any rate, the cramped san station had surprisingly refreshing warm water and decently-smelling body wash that the inconvenience of the handcuffs was almost negligible.

It was a Needle-class after all.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was in a Needle like this. Most of his time he’d get from point A to point B using public shuttles, stowing away on cargo ships, and hitchhiking. Needles were rare, opulent, and typically driven by the most deplorable micro-dicks in the galaxy—which is exactly why he wondered how the hell Mona of all people got a ship like this.

No offense to her of course. Frankly, Argo just thought the lanky and socially-awkward freelancer utterly incapable of holding down a solid-enough job to maintain the Meridian. No, that’s definitely offense to her. Regardless, there was a long story behind this ship, and he was sure of it. Either she stole it, inherited it, or bought it using an absurd amount of blood money. He’d ask her about it later, when the heat died down between the both of them.

And when they get past the five unmarked ships surrounding Murphy-7.

Argo’s mother was one of the best military minds known in human space. By accessing her recorded memories, he could likely devise an accurate enough strategy to get out of the possibly hostile situation they’ve put themselves into. But he wasn’t sure if he should. He hadn’t used his Neural Link in forever, fearing that what he'd discover in it wouldn’t be what he wanted to see. He had this aching, suffocating feeling that whatever he’d discover in his data banks would ruin him. Ever since the last time…

Forbidden knowledge, he smirked inwardly. If their lives truly hinged on his stubborn will against using his Link, he’d have to cave. For now, he would have to get by without it.

Mona’s knowledge of his cybernetics was another, more immediate issue entirely. The risk of him revealing his abilities were high since they first met, but now that they were alone with Yanagihara on Mona’s own ship, his life could be compromised. If Mona was intelligent enough, and if she had a powerful enough Dragon Virus, it would only take a single data chip in his neural link to enslave Argo to her will. That was how they used Phalanx in the AEU long before the Cybernetic Ethics and Psychology Council was established. The D-Chips were still in common use in the more unsavory corners of the galaxy, and were easily accessible if you knew the wrong people and had the right amount of money.

And then there was the issue of his Hydes Syndrome—but they wouldn’t have to worry about that until they tack enough G to Skip. It became apparent to him, stepping into the air vacuum, that his current situation was growing more and more dizzyingly complex.

Kepler. On its own, the name didn’t have much meaning to him. It was associated with several solar systems, after some German mathematician from almost a millennium ago. Ah yes, he thought. Earth history, deeply complex and even more deeply meaningless.

The 186f, however, assigned a different meaning to Argo. It made him pause as he struggled to wrestle his boxers on. Kepler-186f was thought to be an uninhabitable system after all its years of superstitious build-up, as well as the fact that its Red Dwarf would make living conditions utterly unreliable with its instability.

But he proved that wrong a long time ago. Many people did. It was the biggest lie in the known universe. A lie that he sought to betray out of fear for humanity’s safety.

“That’s your curse,” she said, walking up the dunes painted in the sun’s bloody rays. He saw like holes in the sky the gas giants that orbited nearby, large enough for his hands to reach out and grasp. Between his fingers his life trickled away, abandoned by his only friend in the universe.

“You’ll come back again and again for us, and it will always end here. But one day it will change, and you will understand why we must keep this place pure,”

A name sharp and buzzing left her mouth. His name.

The real one.

“Lazarus.”

Like red-hot needles prickling, the scars on his arms started to itch.

Irritated, Mona glared at her bounty as he walked out the sanitary station and grabbed the yellow can of seltzer from the coffee table. Stripped to the waist, he nonchalantly collapsed on the crashbed across from her. Right now there wasn’t a trace of emotion on his being, as if he was devoid of all sorts of deception or stress. Her scowl was the only greeting she gave him.

“You got your shower and your drink. Now talk.”

“Not too big on the grapefruit flavor, but I guess this’ll have to do.” If he keeps pushing his luck like this, Mona thought, the airlock is gonna break with how fast I use it on his ass.

“Tough luck. If you were anyone less important, you’d have already spilled all the answers I need.” “I’m shivering in my boots. Listen, Mona Lisa, you’re a lonely bounty hunter with a fixation on antiquated pirate aesthetics. You’re also not gonna get much outta the whole tough-guy persona in a lovely room like this. Especially with the feng shui, the lava lamp, and those adorable cats cuddling over there.” He leaned back, stretching his cuffed hands to the ceiling. His spiky white hair looked like a bleached sea urchin with how damp it was. “Where’s the doctor?”

“Still sleeping.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way for the time being.”

Oh, he really does think he’s in charge, doesn’t he? Mona thumbed the data chip in her pocket. Of course she wouldn’t use it unless it truly came to it, but the threat was still there. Let him be self-assured—if he gets too comfortable the idea will be introduced. She was no sadist, but she was gonna get the dirt on Murdaugh or whatever Argo’s allegiances led to no matter what. Truthfully she didn’t want to ever have to use the thing, but her cowardice drove her to buy such a disgusting device.

Trev wouldn’t call it cowardice, she thought momentarily. He would call it a “clever advantage.” He would’ve scolded her for not using it already, and eventually would’ve taken it all into his own hands. He never cared all that much about ethics as long as it got him a warm meal and a warm bed.

And that philosophy got him a first-class ticket to a cold, unmarked grave in the vacuum of space.

But she wasn’t Trev. She was better. Yet the implication of her purchase told her otherwise. What made her morally superior for waiting to use it, instead of using it now that she had it? At the end of the day, it’s a tool that traffickers and dictators use to ruin lives and to profit. Wouldn’t she be committing the same act of physical defilement for the same ends?

“We have two more hours until we’re within scan of those ships,” She sighed, and prayed she wouldn’t ever need it. “So let’s begin with how you don’t exist”

“Interesting starting point.” He took a long sip. The scrawny cyborg was almost completely hairless and didn’t seem to have any scars or signs of implants on his body. Just tattoos of innumerable sigils, faces, and creatures. A notable pair were the cross of the Knights Templar on his left shoulder and the Celtic Triquetra on his right. The only two religious ones. The lack of visible cybernetics and the abundance of the tattoos succeeded in unnerving Mona. “‘I think therefore I am.’ I guess I’ve always kept a clean record, Captain. I don’t like to take risks unless they’re worth it.”

She didn’t buy it. “According to my records, you’re a ghost. No digital footprint, no birth certificate, no evidence that you were ever a person aside from your bounty and an entry in Murdaugh’s records. It’s impressive, really. Even with ID fraud, I know the usual corners to dig up bones.”

“Good thing I have no skeletons.” He nodded and sipped.

“Not even a ship registered to your name either. It’s a wonder they even accepted you.”

“They’ll take anyone to push around for an internship.” He smiled and pointed at himself. Mona admitted the man looked young enough to pass as a college stoner. “And hey, you’re acting like there aren’t boring people like me all across the galaxy.”

She sulked, realizing she’d hit another brick wall. “How’d you end up in Murphy-7, then?”

“I was tasked with something very important. I had a message to deliver to Murdaugh, something that they needed to hear. Think of me as a…courier.”

“A courier?”

“Yes, a courier, what’s so unbelievable about that? In an era where it can take up to weeks for information to get to people, information is the biggest thing binding humanity through such gargantuan gaps in space. That’s why you’re here asking me these questions isn’t it? And that’s what we’re going to need to survive.”

“You’ve made your point. What was in this message, and why specifically Murdaugh?”

“Murdaugh was easy-pickings. High reputation in the other sectors of the galaxy, but especially lax and underfunded here in Advis. It was easy enough to infiltrate their ranks—I didn’t even have to pull any fakes before applying. The staff is gullible—as seen with Yanagihara,—and the terminals are so easy to crack a sixth grader could do it with their eyes closed. Getting the data chip into the main terminal was easy.

“As for the contents of that chip,” Mona jolted as Argo’s aura erupted into black-purple tendrils of terror. “I forgot.”

She bolted up. “Bullshit, you forgot!”

“I had to.” He shrunk inward at her burst of anger. “I don’t remember what it was, but I remember spending days in the back of my friend Echo’s Sashimoto puking and crying my eyes out over it. I dunno…it felt like something I shouldn’t have to live with—that nobody should have to live with. If…if I couldn’t—if I didn’t wipe all that memory and put it in a small data chip for Murdaugh, I don’t know where I would be.”

He wasn’t visibly lying, but none of it made sense. Even if you did have memory banks in your neural link, there was no way you could wipe memories from your brain as easily as he suggested. Nevertheless, the despair Mona saw in Argo disturbed her greatly. “So, why are they after you now?”

“Someone in there probably didn’t like what they’re doing with that information.” Quixote strolled onto Argo’s lap and stretched out, his sharp pink maw yawning silently.

“You’re going to have to give me more. I know you don’t remember anything about it, but we can’t go wandering around in the dark.”

“Kepler-186f. I know it had to do with that. That’s where all this begins.” He massaged the cat’s blue coat.

“And is that where we’re heading?” She blurted without thinking.

“Eventually, if you’re not turning me in. Somewhere there is a truth so powerful and traumatic that it awoke Murdaugh from the depths of their economic depression to create a bioweapon—” Suddenly a burst of blue peered through the midst of purple. Relief. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“You’re starting to piss me off with the cryptic amnesiac act, and we’re on the clock with the squad surrounding the station. Spill.”

“Doctor Orlando said someone intentionally freed Abel—that thing in the station. The motivation to cripple Advis is too elementary—too much of a risk for Murdaugh with very little reward, especially given the thing’s probably icy debris now. No, this was a message.”

“Okay, so like a theatrical ‘look at us we can make a giant gorilla mutant,’ but who’s the recipient?”

“Probably the same person who reported me and sent those Hyenas to Murdaugh’s door.” “And who’s that?” She clutched her fist, tired of his pandering.

As he crushed the can, vibrant and self-assured cerulean happiness rippled through Argo’s signature. “Why, she’s sleeping right in your quarters, Captain.”

Lucy woke up in the middle of the night to a notification at her home terminal. The glowing blue screen blared like the heavens from across her living. Reluctantly she pushed herself from under the many blankets on her couch and stood, her legs still sluggish and disoriented. She glanced at the station outside her window—a fake city that tried its hardest to mimic the triumphant civilizations of the Cradle Planets. At this time of night there were few windows aglow, only neon word-vomit coagulating in the dark.

There was something especially disconcerting about station life that felt distinctly un-human, as if even through all the centuries of evolution catering to inhabitants of artificial living, there was something about the human spirit that could not accept life outside of earth. Crime was significantly higher in stations than they ever were on-planet. Same went for suicide-rates, divorce-rates, general mortality-rates, child mortality-rates and et cetera and et cetera. Everything was held together in station-living by a few thin strings that, if broken, could collapse the order of everything—which was exactly what happened during the Cascade.

There was also undoubtedly a malformed evil existing in the void. Living artificially, the culture of Atlas Station had been bred with a specific dissociation that has consumed humanity since the invention and standardization of computers. Everything you saw—every billboard, magazine, restaurant sign, entertainment stream, datapad, advertising, music, et cetera—had a standardized sheen of soulless apathy and irony that had grown to satirize itself over the years. Everything had become derivatively synonymous with the affix post: post-comedy, post-astralism, post-music, post-human. It’s as if station-bound humanity has collectively recognized that their existence was more fragile and meaningless than it would be land-bound.

Damn, she thought dismally at her own cynicism. Maybe I should’ve died with Mars.

Crossing to the terminal in only her ex-boyfriend’s graphic T-shirt, she gave the terminal’s camera an extra-dissatisfied glare for the facial recognition to trigger. The message within was from Mia Yanagihara, their mole in Murdaugh. An unremarkable resume for a particularly unremarkable face. The message was sent out eight hours ago with the current time delay, so she was likely off-station and in one piece. She was shocked the biologist survived the conflict there, and felt partially inconvenienced by that fact.

She squinted to make out the blobby black characters and decrypted the shorthand script:

“Murdaugh Abel Freed. Orlando dead. Experiment success. They know about Kepler Founders.”

Instead of smashing her monitor to electrical wire and bits, she popped two Oxy, pulled her pants on, and went down to the Atlas firing range. So early in the artificial morning, only the veterans and the trainees were up at the station, many of which bowed at the disgruntled sight of the Director. They’d gossip and share her state with journalists, but they wouldn’t dare let those thoughts surface in front of her.

That’s the power that came with being feared.

Guns felt like an extension of herself. Although she scarcely had to do field work in her career, the feel of the barrel’s heat after shooting always calmed her. The rhythmic plinking firing at the metal targets gave her a sense of peace no opioid could. Shooting guns, Lucy had a sense of reality and control that peered through the foggy haze of daily artificial life.

A vague and fleeting sense of control, at least.

Every time she squeezed the trigger she was back on the ice caps of Mars. She could feel the crunching of the snow, the crackling of the ice, the moaning of the wind gusting and coursing along her heated suit. She could reach out and touch the chain of soldiers she belonged to, grappled along the face of a mountain. A kilometer away she knew Helena was in the same position of suspension, traveling sluggishly with the rest of the Mars Coalition. Like beads on a hundred strings, the army scaled the mountain together.

The Americo-Eurasian Union soldiers that awaited them were red as lobsters, and sizzled in their plastic armor like them too. Being at the crux of the Corpo Wars, the main power allowing the corporations liberal rule, Lucy had no qualms gunning them all down.

Maybe the Director of Atlas was born on those plains of snow. She remembered the utter disconnection she felt, and how shocking it was to see Helena react to her first kill compared to her own. It was as if she was always missing the part of herself that recognized humanity or purpose in others. Back then she felt like it was a degeneration or deformity that would only hurt her.

Now she clearly saw it as an advantage.

“Director Bianco,” A smooth baritone voice made its appearance as she reloaded her rifle. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”

She lowered the gun and turned to face Akuna Dinle, the Director of Data Acquisition for the AMC. If you’d seen the man in the nearest bodega you’d think he was a body-builder or personal trainer; he was tall, brawny, and kept an impeccably sculpted beard like a rectangular hedge. His eyes were a warm brown like glistening woodgrain, and his smile was a blinding white. By all appearances, he always looked like he was going to offer to buy you drinks at some high end bar.

But he was the most ruthlessly cold and scathing man in the building.

“I’m off-shift.” She hung her earmuffs nearby. Though some recruits were still firing nearby, the range was quiet enough to speak in.

“Well, you tend to be even more inaccessible on-shift,” His smile was sharp and gleaming, like a canine’s. “I promise it won’t take more than ten minutes, and you can return to—” he gestured to the range. “Your business here. It’s about what I dug up in Betelgeuse.”

“So about everything going wrong in the galaxy right now.”

“You could say that.” He folded his hands. “How about you accompany me to my office? I have some fresh matcha from the Cradle.”

There was no saying “no” to this, Lucy thought. Dinle takes his deals and his time very seriously. She reluctantly followed. Slouching and disheveled, she made for a perfect juxtaposition between the two directors as they rose through the building, gazing down at Atlas as if it were a stagnant puddle of concrete.

Akuna Dinle’s office was as tastefully vacant as one would expect. It was as if the man was not built for human niceties, and was merely an alien wearing a human skinsuit. If it came out one day that Dinle was a part of some unknown shape shifting species of extraterrestrial, Lucy would be far from shocked.

At least that would make his brutality more conceivable.

The curse of Data Acquisition was the steady desensitization of using vulnerable humans like tools. Of course, as a military mind Lucy commanded assaults and was responsible for innumerous casualties, there was the justification of “defense” and “valor” in her line of work. People died for a cause they believed in. What Dinle was responsible for was more abstract and flexibly moral—the trade of information. He worked with the seediest people in society, and often did not care where they ended up as long as they gave him the information Richard Atlas or himself required. He would have people traded, tortured, disappeared, and mentally or physically destroyed for the intelligence that oils the machine of AMC. For this “oil,” he rewarded his armada of brigands and degenerates with any pleasure they desired—be it humans, drugs, or wealth. This was all underhanded, yet Richard Atlas definitely knew of it. Dinle was the shadow of Atlas, the necessary evil that keeps the gears turning whether they liked it or not.

If Lucilla Bianco was Shiva, Akuna Dinle was the Devil himself.

“Kenzo Aoki is still alive and well in Jianglang, Ourani.” Dinle sat at his black leather chair, and adjusted his gray tie. Lucy stood by the door. “He goes under the pseudonym ‘Doctor Skies,’ and he’s a back-alley prosthetic and cybernetic engineer. He’s changed his face, his fingerprints, and lies low living right above a Fusion Saloon called ‘La Gallardía’. So far he has not spilled anything about Kepler, but Rio sent him a message anyway from the Goldeyes.”

“Okay, so why haven’t you killed him?”

“You’re thinking too much like a general, Director Bianco. Doctor Aoki is the perfect trap for Helena Bianco to fall into once she finds out about his location.”

“And how would she find that out?”

“Mia Yanagihara, of course.”

“What?” Lucy started. How did he know about Mia? As far as she knew, Doctor Yanagihara was her informant that she met years ago and kept contact with. Wait, why am I so shocked that Dinle knows? “Are you the reason the Hyenas showed up at Murphy?”

“This is irrelevant, Director. As I was saying, Mia Yanagihara will wind up informing Helena of Doctor Aoki’s location.”

“And how is she going to contact Helena, exactly? Do you have her location?”

“I’ve narrowed down two possibilities of your sister’s whereabouts: after Murphy-7’s invasion, she likely hitched a ride with a complete stranger, or stole her own way out. Either way, not one ship is leaving without being confronted by your ships, yes?”

Lucy nodded.

“After they’re stopped and interviewed, each ship’s destinations will be triangulated by the orientation of their drives, as you instructed them. We will pursue the ship that sets our tracker off, but I theorize that it shouldn’t be a starship with more than two people aboard, as demonstrated by her prior patterns of travel. In case Yanagihara is unknowingly on the same ship as the girl, we’ll also have a cruiser tail her.” Helena had a chip on her that pings when in close-range of the receiver. Problem was, the “close-range” was almost impossible to reach in space.

He doesn’t trust me, Lucy thought. I can tell he’s got more up his sleeve by how little he’s letting off. “Is that all?” She swallowed, nervous.

“Hij’anak isn’t happy, Lucy.” Dinle sighed, rubbing a hand through his fuzzy black hair. It was the first sign of emotion Lucy had seen from him. Fear. “It’s not a good first impression, his first subject leaving them so easily. And because of your mother, no less.”

A pang grew in her side that the Oxy couldn’t numb. “There’s no proof against Administrator Bianco.” Lucy raised her voice and clenched her fist as if fire scorched her palms. “Don’t point fingers as if you have the full story.” But he does have the full story, she realized. Although her mother was near the top of Atlas’s hierarchy, her allegiances were always muddled with her love for her daughter. Lucy knew the rumors of Ana breaking Helena out, but her mind rejected that possibility at every corner she was confronted with it.

Because she knew it was likely the closest to the truth. Her sister had been through a hell unimagined by humanity at the hands of a foreign species. The least her own mother could do was give her child the freedom she deserved, and give humanity one more chance to fight. Ashamed, Lucy acknowledged the part of herself that wanted her sister to be safe and sane; the part of herself that could still feel regret for how she betrayed her family and consequently her race. All the memories of the honored Founder awakened at once…she didn’t know how Ellie would live with it, if she chose to keep living.

But the Director had to suppress that empathy. Richard and Kristoff Atlas needed her to. The Director, like Dinle, had to realize that small sacrifices like Helena had to be made in order to maintain the integrity of the human race. She couldn’t let her emotions take a hold of her. There was no fighting the Founders, as they were absolute. They are our creators, she remembered her mother saying upon the discovery of them. And they are more like us than you’d think. She never figured out whether that thought moved or disturbed her, having encountered the aliens several times in the past.

Damn, she should’ve taken more than just the Oxy this morning.

“Failure is not a choice you make,” Dinle shrugged her anger off. “It’s the intent that counts. If you blame yourself for what little consequence your actions affected, I suggest you reconsider. The Founders are frightening and elusive, but they’re merciful for the treacherous. You and me, we’ll likely be spared when the Convergence is underway. That’s because we’ve sacrificed so much to get here.

“But the honorable hearts of humanity?” He paused, and looked straight into Lucy with empty eyes. “I’m not so sure.”

It was too early for this. “There’s a game inside every word you say, and I won’t play into any of them. The Founders aren’t happy now, but they will be satisfied once I’m through with Helena. I’ll bring back her body for them to poke around and reverse-engineer, and I will personally deal with Administrator Bianco when the time comes.” She realized she’d already put her hand on the knob of the door. Her body instinctively couldn’t stand being in the same room as Dinle.

“And your end of the deal?” There was always a price for the DA’s work.

“I’ll make sure the Clynix girl gets out of the USCP safely, I already got a few guys working on it.” She sulked. “I take it you know about Abel?”

“How could I not? Let Murdaugh sculpt their toy soldiers, they won’t amount to anything against what the Founders have. They can threaten all they want with the knowledge of the Founders, as long as they don’t make any statements—which they know they can’t—they’re off my radar. To my understanding from Yanagihara and Orlando’s notes, this ‘Abel’ is spineless, a prototype of something still weaker than our enemies.”

“So you acknowledge that the Founders are our enemies?”

“They’re definitely not our allies, as much as they deceive themselves to think so.” He sighed, and amicably crossed his legs onto his desk. “We will never face a war with the Founders, Bianco. It will be a swift assimilation. The war we face now is with humanity, and centers around one confused woman that shouldn’t exist and a network of people who shouldn’t know about her.

“What both Murdaugh and Aoki have acknowledged with their actions is that it’s no longer about the declaration of alien life to humanity; as that will disintegrate every chance we have at staving off our extinction.”

“And what is it about now, Director Dinle? Because their fighting all sounds so pointless from your perspective.”

He thought about his next words wisely. “About how much they can cripple the Founders and everyone who supports them before they kick the bucket.”

“I’ve never understood where you stand in these matters. You always seem to know both sides, yet never seem to choose one or the other. What’s your game, Dinle?”

“You’re still thinking about allegiances?” He forced a chuckle. “Your naivete never fails to impress me. As soon as you joined Atlas you should’ve known that there’s one answer to your question of ‘sides’ and ‘allegiances’: self-preservation.”

The matcha on the desk was left untouched as she made her silent departure, only slightly disturbed by the shutting of the sliding door behind her.

After a grueling workout, a sobering shower, and a dismal meal, Lucy carried on with the rest of her day as if her meeting with Dinle never happened. But on the inside it wore her thin. She sat at her console, the pool of colored pills in her hands, wondering whether she should feel what she was feeling—the heartache, the pain, the harrowing dread.

Her mother would cry seeing her like this.

Helena would cry seeing her like this.

Gritting her teeth against the tears, Lucilla Bianco realized that there would be no other route for her or Atlas to take. If she didn’t kill Helena herself, somebody else would. If she let Helena free, that would mean less time for humanity to thrive or find a way out—if that was even an option anymore.

Dinle was right: the withering isolation of being a traitor of mankind will never leave, and would consume her entirely once only she and all the sinners of Atlas remained.

As the first tear trickled down, she downed her first pill of her shift.

After gushing over her command board, Argo was reluctantly shackled to the legs of each table, only allowing him access to the auxiliary board by him. Mona demonstrated her abilities as an engineer by rerouting all the additional terminals to her command terminal in the middle of the cockpit. As a ship designed to be commanded by six to seven members at a time, it was a wonder a freelance bounty hunter could manage so much at a time. Of course it wasn’t uncommon for a lonewolf to pilot a ship that’s too big for them, but it usually wound up functioning like an inefficient one-man band.

But what Mona did was an engineering wonder—she managed to graft all the other terminals into one console. This made it easier for her to operate alone, and essentially gave her full authoritative control over the cockpit. Meaning that if she didn’t want Argo to do something, she could shut that function down from his board. Frankly, Argo had regained faith in Mona. He initially thought she was just some nepo-kid who didn’t know how to use her daddy’s ride, but at least she seemed to have the experience to pull off a wonder like that.

Naturally, the buttons and screens on his console looked completely dead.

“Yanagihara’s sealed and locked in her quarters until we hit our destination. Lucky for us she’s a heavy sleeper.” He watched as Mona drifted through the powder-blue room to the central terminal with a zero-g mug in hand, barely giving him a passing glance. The screens at the front displayed the stellar canvas before them. Overlaid was the pattern of code and scan data that indicated the position of all five ships surrounding Murphy-7.

Utopia, Hammurabi, Jezebel, Gibraltar, Samson. The blue-fluorescent names flowed through his subconscious.

All of them, Argo realized, were Atlas ships.

What did I expect? He sighed inwardly. He’d figure out what to do when Mona left him a window of opportunity. Breaking out was a definite possibility too, but he’d lose his only possible ally in the Delta Sector by doing so.

“Once we get out of this bind with those Atlas ships, where have you decided to head?”

“I think we can agree rushing into Kepler is a dumbass idea, but correct me if I’ve underestimated how insane you are.” She belted herself in and started tapping screens and key commands. The cockpit LEDs turned from a cold blue to a warm yellow. “We’re gonna make a quick stop by Jianglang before leaving Delta. I got a few errands to run and a few connections that could give us the bigger picture. Plus, I still haven’t decided whether or not to cash you in.”

“Really, after all we’ve been through?” He pouted. “I’m very hurt, Mona. Very hurt. Why would you cash in your reward now when you still got so much to squeeze out of me?”

“You sure have an unfortunate way with words.” She paused. “But right about now you’re looking like a check I should cash in. You’re not pitching me any feasible reasons to invest in you, plus I never had much luck with my stocks. Never was much of a gambler either.

“But nevermind all that—you said something about Atlas ships?”

“Yeah, unless you couldn’t read the neon signs screaming ‘Atlas’ from the scan.”

“Alright smartass, I’ve seen Atlas decals and codes before, I’m just wondering what the hell they’re doing here.”

You don’t know the half of it, he thought bitterly. “They’re looking for a friend of mine.”

“You have friends?”

“Look who’s being smart now.” Argo said, trying to figure out his next sentence. “Atlas is on a witch hunt for a girl named Helena. She’s…she has some very important information that could reshape human space. But she’s not our concern right now. As long as we don’t get close to those ships, she’s none of our concern.”

“Could ya say something for once that makes any sense?” She was now looking at him intently, as if he was some zoo animal. He hated when she had that searching glare. “And do you think you could’ve mentioned this friend earlier? Where is she now?”

Argo shrunk in his seat. “You couldn’t catch her if you could. She’s smart, trust me. And all she matters to this situation is that Atlas is interfering with our way out. You have all the equipment to pull one over on them. Pretend your signal’s jammed or you’re a Emytian trader, I don’t know.”

Where is she now? He thought. He thought he could remember, but his memory was a chamber of despair for him. Once he tapped into his Neural Link, he would be gone again, wasted away in the tides of the void. He would hear the universe speak to him again, feel his arms and legs tied to the slats, his brain tissue dissolving like cotton candy in water and swept back into the void where it was born.

Remaining only with residual memories of someone else.

Argo’s signature erupted red-black magma on Mona’s Providence. The boy was angry about something involving Helena. She was trying to piece together all the cryptic names in this galactic puzzle that spawned from Argo’s arrival: Aoki, Lucy, Helena…she suddenly had the guttural feeling that this conflict went deeper than she could ever imagine.

Especially if Atlas was now involved.

It didn’t help that Mona had her own personal gripes with Atlas, ever since Trev got in the way of one of their destroyers. The Manhattan, she recalled the name of it. Equipped with a hyper-light proton beam that could eviscerate a moon. She’d never forget that ship’s name as long as she lived. Of course they were mercs and Trev was a thief, but his butchery was not justice. She felt a similar disquiet from Argo.

Animosity.

She left the matter about Helena alone and started cruising the ship out of Murphy-7’s range. The next thirty minutes were an unsettling quiet between the two of them. Mona had never been good at small-talk, and often enjoyed her own silence, but the blaring red at her peripheral was like a burning itch. In the four hours she’d known Argo, the sudden quiet anger disturbed her deeply.

What was he capable of?

Mona already took care of the cyborg thing: her extra manacles were programmed with a stun setting that would fry the circuits in his arms momentarily if he tried to resist. And there was always the D-Chip if that fails, the dark corner of her mind spoke as she thumbed it. No, she was more afraid of what he was capable of doing as a person. What did he know that she didn’t? What were the stakes? Why was Yanagihara a mole, and what was she doing on her ship?

Why did Argo let her come along, if he knew of her deception?

And who was she working for?

She couldn’t worry about that now. Yanagihara was shoved in the back of her ship, at the back of her mind. Right now she just needed to get out of Delta Sector alive. She took a long sip of scalding hot coffee and went to work on her board. She hated the bitter taste of it, but it was more so the aftertaste that kept her awake rather than the caffeine. Years of conditioning herself to her dad’s favorite beverage made it go down easier.

Growing up around pirates, she was used to binds like this. It was as natural to her as any other errand would be, as easy as breathing. Argo simply didn’t know who he was talking to—she only had him there in the rare case things got sticky and she needed someone at Helm while she gunned.

All they needed to do was get past their ships and to the Skipgate.

The Comms of Hammurabai pinged on her board.

“Hammurabai to Meridian, this is Officer Oliver Perrin,” A gruff, phlegmy voice announced on their speakers after Mona accepted the transmission. “Send over your license and records, please.”

She took a few moments to drag the folders to the data channel. “Meridian to Hammurabai, this is Captain Mona Silvers, they’re sent. Hope this won’t hold us up too long, I got a hot date in Jianglang.”

Argo mouthed the words, Mona Silvers!? In aghast astonishment.

“Okay, Captain Silvers, please stand by. If we hold them up for fifteen minutes, we’ll send them flowers ourselves.”

The Comm went silently to static.

“Mona Silvers?” Argo burst from the excited silence that held him. “What kind of idiotic fake name is that? You sound like a porn star!”

Says someone without a last name, she rebuked in her head. “The name I was given by my dad,” She said stoically, taking another long sip. It was as if she was dealing with a toddler. “And a damn strong name it is.”

“Okay Clint Eastwood, what I’m trying to say is that’s a dumb fucking name to go by this sector of space,” Argo continued, his humor turning quickly to irritation. “Especially with the legacy of Vain Silvers…” His storming irritation, which started as a gust of humor, dissipated suddenly to shock. “Wait, you said your dad…”

She nodded. Mona never outwardly gloated about her dad’s reputation, but her acceptance of his name was proof enough. Though in the end he left too many loose ends for her to tie, he was undoubtedly a legendary hit-man throughout the known galaxy, to the point where his skills were an integral part of the Corpo Wars in the Cradle System. Silvers was a name of strength, bravery, and intelligence.

It was also a name of treachery.

“Your dad killed the Prime Minister of the Advis Confederacy, and you have the balls to carry his name around like that?”

“I got immunity.” She shrugged. “Sins of the father.”

“Sins of the father? Are you deranged?” Disbelief and shock lit up like electric nodes across his flesh. “God, this makes too much sense. No wonder you’re playing along with all this, you find it fun! And I’m guessing this is your daddy’s ship too?”

“Once. He changed the codes though, if you’re wondering about that.”

“Okay, so you’re not completely gone.”

The comm beeped again.

She shushed Argo to his silent protest of we’re not done! and picked it up.

“This is Officer Perrin of Atlas Destroyer Hammurabai. Please confirm your trajectory to Jianglang, Ourani.”

“Confirmed.”

“What was your business here in Murphy-7, Captain Silvers?”

“Errand to the Bazaar. Had to pick up a few personal items for my girlfriend in Jianglang.”

“Elaborate.”

Mona’s blood ran cold. “Elaborate? Is this really appropriate, Officer?”

Heavy silence. “Never mind, Captain Silvers. Records from Murphy-7 indicate that you docked in the Blue District, across the station from the Bazaar, and your recorded purpose of entry was ‘a quick job.’ Could you please clarify this discrepancy?”

So they really went deep for this one. They don’t take this protocol lightly. “My boss often checks my data core after every mission, so I made that report and parked in that lot to make him think I wasn’t slacking off.”

Argo raised a thumb up. Not bad, his eyes said. But we’re not out yet.

Hesitation. Laughter. “Might have to take a page out of your book sometime, Captain Silvers. I wish I could say we’re over and done with, but our bioscanners sense two other humanoid life forms on your ship—nice vintage by the way, very good condition—if you could clarify their presences.”

Bioscanners? She cringed. Who the hell is this Helena character? Bioscanners were a new and very niche militarized technology used in Advis border cruisers to authorize vehicle capacities. The fact that they were using them now set more alarms off in Mona’s skull. The lies were getting too risky, but at least she was in good humor with the comms officer. She decided to tell the truth. “During the attack I managed to find two unarmed civilians who didn’t have any way off-station. Call me Mother Teresa, but I decided to take them aboard with me.”

“Huh,” The Comm officer sniffed. “Why?”

“They were the ones that’d pay me the most.”

“I like how you think, Captain Silvers.” He paused. “Alright, I won’t hold you from your girl any longer. Permission granted. Hammurabai to Meridian out.”

“Thank you, Officer Perrin. Over.” She shut off the comms and exhaled loudly.

“The Datacore lie wasn’t half-bad, except for the fact that that kind of protocol goes against several ethical principles. Uniform data core checks is something the AEC would do.”

“Well, he bought it.” She sat back for a moment, stretched her arms and legs one last time, and set course for one of the skipgates past the ship. At the pace they were going at, it would only take fifteen minutes. We’re almost out of the clear, she thought. After this, she’d get to Jianglang and see about selling Argo back to the guy who sent her the bounty in the first place.

She remembered that night: falling asleep watching the newest season of The Young and the Restless with Milo and Quixote. Comfy, mildly tipsy, layered with blankets and in her freshly-dried panda pajamas, only to be awakened by a call at her terminal. When she checked, it was an unlisted number who left a voice and a text message.

The voice message was an eerie robotic listing of coordinates that led to Murdaugh in Murphy-7, and the data simply held Argo’s resume and personal details, along with a strange set of characters. When she cracked the identity of the sender, she came across the name Doctor Skies in Jianglang.

The characters were in old Japanese, and when translated read:

Bring Lazarus back to humanity.

I should probably tell Mona about my Hydes Syndrome, Argo thought. If she could just get me some tranquilizers to knock me out when we hit heavy G, that’d be enough. He’d been suffering from the neurological condition all his life, which made spacefaring a terrible inconvenience for him. Every time he had to travel long distances, he spent much of his time tranquilized and strapped down in his quarters, in the rare case that he would be free and sober enough for it to activate.

He didn’t understand it much himself—nobody did. And he was far from the only one to suffer from it—as soon as light-speed travel was introduced many couldn’t psychologically handle the absurdity of it. Many normal people break after their first Skip across space—and consequently, time. It was many of the signs throughout this new age of human history that we were simply never programmed to make it this far.

The reason Neural Links were created in the first place was to prevent people with Hydes Syndrome from harming others. There have been many cases of “Void-Frenzied” people triggering self-destruct, slaughtering their crew, assaulting their crew, and mutilating themselves in that state. Hydes Syndrome wasn’t always lethal; like with all disorders, there was a spectrum from light mania to utter dissociative rage.

However, Neural Links also created another ethical problem that was addressed by the CEPC, and were banned in many places of the galaxy because of their previous weaponization by the AEU and utilization in human trafficking. Many people with HS—like Argo—preferred being sedated and restrained rather than regulated using a Neural Link.

Because the knowledge of a Neural Link was what gave others power over you.

Shamefully, he broke the silence with Mona. “Hey, just so you know before we Skip, I have—”

The Meridian lurched, and alarms started to blare on Mona’s terminal.

Coming to life, Argo’s screen screamed in blocky orange: “COMBAT PROTOCOLS ENGAGED.”

Gibraltar just fired their material cannons at them.

“Argo! I’m giving you helm control. Dodge everything you can, make it through the ships, and I’ll take care of the rest.” Mona rasped, hunched over her terminal. All twelve of her patchy screams were lighting with different colors and diagnostics. “If you can’t steer, just engage the program that routes us to the gate.”

Suddenly struck with the sudden vertigo of combat, Argo accepted his orders without question. His shackled hands danced about his terminal in a chorus of chain jingles. Scan said Samson locked onto them with a honing missile. Argo lurched the ship into evasive maneuvering, threading it through and around asteroids that could give them ample cover. There wasn’t much cover out here in the form of debris, but it would be enough.

It was as if he’d done this before.

He couldn’t understand it, but his hands came to life at the helm board. Were these his mother’s hands? He thought as he weaved the ship around another building-sized meteor, scan showing the soundless explosion of it behind them as Samson’s missile made contact.

Mona’s hands were a blur. On his screen he saw dozens of projectiles erupting in seemingly sporadic directions—until he saw their courses were accurately and preemptively set for each of the five Atlas vessels. The three others: Utopia, Hammurabai, and Jezebel appeared to remain neutral about three hundred kilometers away from the three ships dueling, as if they had not anticipated the assault either.

Five-to-one, the Meridian was now at war with Atlas’s highest-class deployments.

Gibraltar rounded the corner on them, pivoting near Jezebel. Both ships were in utter disrepair—scarred, and streaked with soot,—yet they hunted after them like crippled bloodhounds on amphetamines. The skeletal hull of Gibraltar did not seem to keep it from prowling on them at unreasonable speeds like the swiftness of death.

Argo’s screen burned with flashing lights. They were now on the targ of two warships.

He felt a cold dissociation from his body, a natural disconnect, as he continued to maneuver the ship between the two. He spun it in a sideways drift to face the two vessels closing in on them, and made sure to position them near an outcropping of asteroids. Murphy-7 was a mere disk of blue-gray in the distance. Betelgeuse, the largest blue supergiant in the Milkyway, raged like a ball of tenacious divine fire licking close behind it. Among the stars surrounding it seemed to reign supreme, like a king charging into battle with his army.

The Gate was just five more minutes away. If he pushed the engines it could be two, but that would mean more G than they could handle. They would black out from the pressure. As much as the Needle-class could regulate the internal G, it would be far too much for the human body to handle, never mind Argo’s HS.

They’d have to end this skirmish here.

A beam of light streaked so fast in their scan Argo could hardly react. Rolling the Needle to the side, the stray beam clipped the Meridian and set the ship spinning out. The momentum pushed the G regulation to its limits and the surmounting pressure built up to two-hundred pounds in Argo’s joints.

His head started swimming. He zeroed in, his body moving with instincts he never knew he had, and he gained control over the ship again. The beam, he saw, was from Jezebel about three hundred kilometers away. If he moved two seconds later, the Meridian would’ve been unsalvageable. Still facing the two damaged ships, he continued to strafe the needle sideways. The clipped wing made the maneuvering less responsive, laggy.

Shut the engine down, the Universe whispered to him, her warm breath on his neck. He ignored her as her invisible hands caressed his face from behind. Stay here. I’ll guide you. He had to ignore her. You won’t ever have to see her again. Just stay here with me.

Let me take care of you.

But his hands moved against his will.

“Argo!” Mona bellowed as soon as his hands moved to the engine command screen. “Pull up!”

Pull up?! He couldn’t think of a single tactical advantage that would bring, but suddenly felt a rush of trust in the captain. The G building in the cockpit surmounted as he cranked the gear down. The change in gravity slammed into both of them like the weight of a dozen elephants. He could feel warm blood leaking from his nose to his chest.

He could also feel the universe calling to him again. Argo was a part of everything at every time all at once, a fragment of the expanse of darkness and void outside and inside everything. He was the nothingness between matter, the beginning and the end as it happened simultaneously. His cells were dismantled and reconstructed again and again. He was beyond humanity, beyond the Founders, beyond every inconsistency that plagued the chaos of creation and destruction. He was God as he was nothing.

Frollicking in a celestial field luminescent like a bowl of blackness, he realized that there was a reason earth was born so close to a gulf of black void—because we all belonged to it. We are in love with absence as we are in love with abundance. We love violence as much as we love sex. We create, destroy, create and destroy because we are beings conceived in both. Not for good or evil or any principle of God, but for two forces that compelled our soft, small hands to the stars in the first place.

He was wailing with bitter hysterical laughter, realizing how useless, confusing, and beautiful the truth of the universe was. As he collapsed on the shifting sands of stars, he again felt her arms wrapping around his bare waist, cold and unforgiving.

Slowly her delicate fingers closed his eyes, and Argo finally succumbed to her.

#sci fi #original writing #creative writing #science fiction #hard science fiction #hard sci fi #amwriting #wip #current wip #work in progress

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thestuckylibrary · 8 years ago

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Mods’ Reads: June 2017

New mods, new features!

We know we are very behind on our recs, so by the suggestion of a lovely anon, we’ve decided to compile a list of fics we’ve read this month. This fandom always gives us amazing stories to gush about, which we are very thankful for :D

From new fics to old ones, our picks are under the cut:

Mod Karin

And we’ll be slow, honey lovers (‘til the clocks go forward again) by stellam_ignem

But he knows he wants to stay, because he can’t stand not hearing Steve’s voice, or not seeing that smile on that face, or that solemn look of kindness whenever he hands over a few dollars to the homeless veteran on the side of the street. He can’t stand not making Steve laugh. He loves the the subtle smirk in his dares and the snark in his jokes, and the jerk in his brow when he’s lost in thought, or the way he smiles whenever they kiss and thumbs across Bucky’s lower back. Bucky chokes a little, on air, and gently wraps his arms back around Steve’s neck to kiss him.

or: bucky’s a boxer/writer and steve’s the english teacher who walks in on his life.

Fortunate Resolutions of In-Field Complications a.k.a. Dumb Luck by Katharoses, Lasenby_Heathcote

The mission was simple. The mission wasn’t anything at all. We didn’t have to fight, we didn’t have to break in or steal anything or blow anything up - or at least nothing specific. The mission was simply to create a lot of bluster in the wrong direction. But then, the mission doesn’t always go according to plan.

If They Haven’t Learned Your Name by silentwalrus

Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”

“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.

“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”

aka Steve and Bucky’s Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

Pieces Were Stolen From Me by perfect_plan

Steve Rogers is drawn to the mysterious man who has started to frequent his gallery but has no idea how is life is about to change just by being his friend.

Werewolf? There Wolf by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

After the car accident that cost him his arm and the endless rehabilitation that got him his shiny metal Stark Industries replacement, Bucky’s happy for a break from people. The house in the forest is peaceful, town’s a fair distance away, and he’s got no neighbours…except maybe a blue-eyed wolf and possibly a naked guy named Steve.

(PS: Steve is the wolf.)

Mod Blue I (re)read a lot so I’m just going to list them without their summaries or we’ll all be scrolling forever.

The Way Out Is The Way Down by Speranza

Coming and Going by Speranza

20th Century Limited by Speranza

What We Asked For From Each Other by Speranza

Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square by Speranza

All The Angels and The Saints by Speranza

Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes by Speranza

Coming Out Party by Speranza

the nightmare from which I am trying to awake by Speranza

Dishonor On Your Cow by mandarou

The Avengers Hate Club by notebooksandlaptops

Nietzsche is Dead by mambo

Kiss the Cook by mambo

half awake in a fake empire by idrilka

Behind closed doors: collected oral histories of queer community in New York, 1930-1945. doi 10.1999/journal.amhistqstud.32557038 by wobblyheadeddollcaper

back seat drive by silentwalrus

Workplace Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled

Mod Julia

broken people (living under loaded gun) by obsessivereader, Slaughter_Me

“It’s him, Nat.”

“He may look like Steve, but that’s not Steve.” Distress mars her calm, professional mask, a sign of how shaken she is. “You saw how many men he killed, the way he did it. That’s not Steve.”

Until You Wear a Groove in the World by rohkeutta

Steve saves him.

In a way, Bucky wishes he hadn’t, because at least then Bucky could’ve pretended that those letters from Spokane and Tucson and Philadelphia never arrived. Bucky could’ve died imagining that Steve was safely in Brooklyn, clinging to life with the skin of his teeth, maybe taking Rebecca and Alice out dancing.

And Shadows Will Fall Behind byleveragehunters

The world was full of things no one could have expected.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes never expected to fall from a train into decades of torture and killing.

HYDRA never expected their perfect Winter Soldier’s programming to shatter.

And Bucky, who’d once been the Winter Soldier, who was now an auxiliary to the Avengers, never expected to look down from a rooftop in New York City, where he was keeping watch over the world’s most ineffectual aspirant supervillains, and see a tiny ball of angry sunshine. Fierce and fearless, he loosed feelings in Bucky that he’d thought were gone forever.

we are the things that we do for fun by Nonymos

Going to a professional Dom may be one of the weirdest things Bucky’s ever done. Especially since this skinny Steve Rogers guy doesn’t really look the part.

But hey, they might just find a way to make this work.

let’s see where we wake up tomorrow by kblaze2

Steve’s gone on his second tour. Bucky gets a dog. There is no correlation. Really. Shut up, Nat.

Feeling I’ll Forget, I’m In Love Now by smithsonianstucky

Five years after the events in D.C., Steve and Bucky are living in Brooklyn and working through Bucky’s last stage of recovery: refamiliarizing himself with touch. At the suggestion of his therapist, they adopt a cat and wonder what changes the pet will make in their lives.

a trip to the grope zoo by mwestbelle

Bucky spends some quality time with Steve’s quality tits.

The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat

or, how Steve ends up working for a dragon with a very odd sense of humor

Korpimaan kutsu by Feanor_in_leather_pants, rohkeutta

The Wise Man teaches him sometimes if he catches Steve puttering around the woods: how to read the trees and the moss, when to listen to the birds and when it’s better to leave their advice untaken. He teaches Steve about the bears and why you’re never supposed to call them by their real name; tells him grittier and truer stories about the woodsfolk than the old ladies in the village.

Dark Lights of Brooklyn by jwdish98

Steve Rogers is a private investigator who is barely skating by. He spends more time in his office than his apartment, and he continues to watch all his friends live out their lives while he sits on the sidelines.

However, when a case falls into his lap that dredges up past mistakes Steve’s life starts to veer off course- in a good way. Probably.

(He’s not entirely sure yet.)

Send Nudes! by DizzyRedhead, TrishArgh

When Steve decided to cosplay Captain America, one of his favorite TV characters, at a convention, he didn’t expect to meet a Winter Soldier cosplayer who looks like he stepped right off the screen (and has a great ass). He didn’t expect to hook up with Bucky, or to find out that they live in the same part of Brooklyn. He definitely didn’t expect the sexting, or the continued hooking up, or the dinner dates.

Steve didn’t expect any of this. Especially not the feelings.

Magic Fingers by lillupon

Steve is just a simple hairdresser.

The Only Familiar Thing by brideofquiet

Steve takes a breath, steels himself, and asks, “Where are we going, Buck?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one driving, Steve.”

so pop the hood, see what’s good by Bellakitse, ravyn_ashling

While celebrating his birthday Steve meets a charming guy with beautiful blue eyes and an easy smile, going home with him for the night should be the end of it. Instead it’s only the start when his boss and friend hires him as his new mechanic.

Mod Dee

Someone get this boy a drink by fingersnapstothat

Sam recommends Steve get a Tinder. He does. It proves to be the best and worst idea ever.

An Idiot’s Romance by captainsthve

So. Steve’s not the smoothest person.

Which is why he’s currently knocking on Sam Wilson’s door and groaning, “Sam, I’m hopeless.” as soon as the door swings open.

Sam just rolls his eyes and lets Steve in. “That is not new information. What happened?”

So Steve recounts the events of the morning with Sam listening patiently and only teasing a little bit. “You know Steve, I’m going to write a biography about you one day and I’m gonna make millions because no one will believe that Captain America is so hopelessly in love with his best friend that he turns into a middle schooler with a crush.”

aka the one where Steve realizes he’s in love and also realizes he’s horribly bad at flirting.

only one my arms will ever hold by wearing_tearing

Like most stories about Bucky Barnes and his questionable and sometimes terrible life choices, this one starts because he decides not to listen to Natasha’s cryptic and mostly annoying advice.

He decides not to listen, and he hunts down and kills a deer during that month’s full moon run with his pack and leaves its dead body on Steve Rogers’s front step.

Steve, the man Bucky kind-of-possibly-maybe-absolutely is in love with.

Bucky would try to smother himself after that one, but he’s learned that werewolves are hard to kill.

Or: the four stages of courting Steve Rogers.

Dishonor On Your Cow by mandarou

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, hell no, don’t call him that, man,” Sam warned.

“Captain Fuck Off!” Barnes shouted over him. “Fight me!”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or just slink away. He managed to combine the two by pacing two steps and snorting instead. Like a bull.

“I’m gonna need you to calm your ass, Barnes,” Sam said as he went limp again, obstructing Barnes’s struggling under him. “This is so undignified. That is Captain goddamn America.”

“Captain goddamn America!” Barnes repeated, louder. And angrier.

Steve cleared his throat again. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told Barnes.

“I hope you brought lube this time!” Barnes shouted.

perhaps it is to avoid some great sadness by onibi

Steve: I took an online quiz and it told me I’d be a cup of black coffee. It says that my good qualities are that I’m friendly, adaptable, and low maintenance.

Bucky: and what did it say you were at your worst a lazy jerk who harasses his boyfriend with inane bullshit online instead of coming in and talking to him face to face

or: in which steve gets really into online personality quizzes, everybody suffers, and steve is a huge sap about how much he loves his boyfriend

I love you like rlb by tolieawake

I love you like rlb has become a well-known, accepted and valuable component of American vernacular. The meaning of the letters 'rlb’ is unknown, but is uniformly considered to be a statement of a great romantic love, commitment and sacrifice.

It was Dernier as first said it. Steve never imagined that something like that could have survived the war and all the years in between.

In which Tony goes insane trying to figure out why that phrase affects the Cap so much, Bucky teases the press, and Steve and Bucky love each other like rlb.

#mod picks

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