#the sniper is enforcement for people who try to stress OTHER people out

[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. 

[gingrrfrog]

these nights (2) self insert vers.

pairing: na jaemin x female reader x lee jeno 

genre: smut, established relationship, mafia au 

word count: 5.3k 

warnings: mentioned gun violence, threesome, male receiving oral sex, swearing, dirty talking, polaroid photos taken during sex (I couldn’t find the actual name for this kink >:T), poly relationship (if for some reason that bothers some of you), squirting

summary: on a cold winter day, you snuggle close to the loves of your life--hours before they’re due for a job. 

masterlist :]

You winced at the sound of the sniper rifle going off again, watching as Jeno lifted his head from the scope, grinning at the newest version of the Sako TRG-42 rifle. From what you could tell, Jeno seemed to be extremely pleased with the results, judging by the way his eyes creased into half circles as he tossed the loaded gun in his hands.

You nearly tore you hair out. You can’t count the amount of times you’ve told Jeno not to do that.

Jaemin was close by, clapping his hand against Jeno’s shoulder as the two chatted with Renjun, a member from the Chinese branch that was in charge of weapon distribution. It seemed that Renjun was asking for feedback and Jeno was giving it to him animatedly, switching the Sako for a handgun, sleek, white, and light judging by the way Jeno again tossed it back and forth in his hands.

You whined out and dug your fingernails in your scalp, “Lee Jeno! Stop fucking tossing them around like that!” You scream from behind the enforced glass, making sure to glare at Jaemin as well for allowing this behavior.

Jeno jumped and looked up to give you another smile, followed by a pout once he saw your scowl. Jaemin blinked rapidly before taking the gun from Jeno, placing it on the table beside them as they continued to chat with Renjun—who gave an apologetic smile and a wave. As they continued to chat, Jeno turned away from the two and continued to shoot the white gun in hand, emptying the barrel before you heard his exclamations behind the glass. He grinned ear to ear and you began to wonder if Jeno loved guns more than you.

Jaemin was first to be finished with the conversation, giving Renjun a wave before stepping up the slick steps to sit next to you against the cold metal chairs. You give him a scrunch of your nose before he leans into kiss it, pulling you into his lap as you rest your head against his.

“Cold?”

“A little,” You hum, feeling much warmer now that he was close by. “Did Jeno enjoy himself?”

“You tell me,” Jaemin snorted. You both watched as Renjun exited as he gave the two of you another wave as he exits the scene while Jeno excitedly disassembles the guns and places them in his bag. He watches the two of you as he bounces up the steps, smiling at you brightly before he leans in to give you a kiss.

“Why do I feel you’re always happier when you get new guns than when I get a new dress?” You tease, laughing when Jeno’s smile turns.

“That’s not true. It’s just a hobby, just like how you get excited when you buy new paintbrushes.”

“Paintbrushes don’t kill people.”

“Neither do guns—“ Jaemin starts, looking up at Jeno with a grin as the latter takes your chin.

“I kill people.” Jeno coos, causing you to rolls your eyes and snap your chin out of his hold.

“You’re so fucking embarrassing—that’s such a cheesy line.”

“But it’s true!” They both add, jumping at the sound of a throat clearing.

The two boys’ backs straighten when they see Jaehyun appear before them. They greet him almost instantly, surprised that their boss bothered to visit them at the range when they were in charge of arranging meetings. You were even surprised, you can’t remember a time meeting Jaehyun outside of his home, but even then, you weren’t involved as Jaemin and Jeno were.

“I thought I would find you three here.”

“What brings the sudden visit?” Jaemin greets, a bit bolder than most would considering their shared mother gives Jaemin a pass at things many members wouldn’t have.

“Just needed a quick chat—I was in the area already anyway.”

“Did something happen?”

“Nothing…we can’t fix,” Jaehyun beams, flashing his dimples at his half-brother before glancing quickly over to you. “Just some details for clean up is all.”

“Me clean up or Jaemin clean up?” Jeno asked, eyes gleaming in excitement.

“This is up your alley, Jeno. Jaemin is a shit shot.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes and patted your thigh, “let’s wait for Jeno in the car before he gets hard.”

“Very funny. I’ll be there in a little bit,” Jeno reassures you, taking your hand before kissing you sweetly. “Jaemin owes us dinner because he missed the most targets.”

Jaehyun snorted as Jaemin rolled his eyes, ushering you out of the range and towards your car. On the way you made eye contact with Jaehyun’s fiancee, looking ever so glamorous as she read a big book of baby names and patted the growing bump on her belly. You waved and gave her a smile, to which she returned, so breathtakingly beautiful.

You figured as much. You couldn’t imagine Jaehyun settling for anything less with dimples like those. You hoped that if you ever got pregnant one day, you would look half as beautiful as she did. However, what with Jeno and Jaemin, you can imagine feeling more stressed than relieved. You shudder at the thought, causing Jaemin to hold you closer.

“Are you that cold?”

“No, I was just thinking.”

Jaemin opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to get inside before he jogged to the drivers side, closing the door as he sighed at the warm air.

“Thinking about what?”

“Your brother’s fiancee.”

“Yeah what about her?”

“She’s really pretty, isn’t she?” You mused, not even sure if you were speaking aloud or not, “she like, glows. Her pregnant glow isn’t fair.”

“You’d glow too if all you did was be pampered by my brother.”

“Don’t be mean, Jaemin.”

“I’m not! She’s nice and pretty, but my brother is overly protective,” He sighs, lowering the car seat as he crosses his arms and closes his eyes. “He doesn’t let her lift a finger at home, it’s a wonder how he lets her go to work.”

“I wonder that too—isn’t a chef a lot of strain? She’s also pretty big.”

“She really does quality check. Her sous-chef does most of the work these days. But even then, hyung only lets her work three days out of the six.”

You chuckle and lean your head against the window, cold in comparison to the rest of your body.

“What now?”

“What if we have a baby?” You laugh loudly, “how funny would that be? Two idiot fathers and a dumb mom.”

Jaemin laughs lightly too, “Jeno would cry.”

“Jeno doesn’t cry,” You turn your head and poke Jaemin in the ribs, “/you/ on the other hand—“

“Who would you want to get your pregnant first?” Jaemin asked eagerly, his eyes shooting open and lifting his chair.

You blinked and slapped his shoulders, “have you thought about this before?”

“Yes. I want it to be me.”

You scrunch your nose, “you were kind of ugly as a baby. Jeno was a little cuter.”

Jaemin’s mouth drops and he sulks almost instantly, turning on his side away from you. You cackle as you pull on his shoulder, trying desperately to admit that you were joking (even if there was some truth to the statement).

Before Jaemin could fully forgive you, Jeno appeared in front of the car, looking as eager as he always did before he slipped on an ice patch, hearing a thud and a groan coming from outside.

Jaemin snapped his neck to look at you, “you want those braincells in our child? Is that the child you want?”

“You and Jeno share one braincell and it’s the one I gave you, now move.” You grin, opening the door and pushing Jaemin out the door.

Jaemin huffs out dramatically as he exits the car and picks Jeno up onto his feet. Jeno gets into the driver’s side and grabs you for yet another kiss, “Dinner time?”

You snorted before pulling away, “I never see you this happy when I wear a new dress—I swear by it.”

“Because I’m more excited by what’s under it.”

You roll your eyes before Jeno playfully bites at your cheek. You glanced at Jaemin at the backseat who winks at you. As annoying as Jeno and Jaemin were together, you still couldn’t ignore how they made your heart pound time and time again.

The drive home was a quiet one. Jaemin hummed along to the radio in the backseat while he scrolled down his phone, presumably checking emails while Jeno’s fingertips tapped the beat against your knee, every so often giving a reassuring squeeze anytime you sighed, a silent indicator to not worry, you were almost home. The original planned consisted of going out to eat for dinner but the weather had different plans as the white sky turned a bleak grey, leaning more towards a grey brown hue than anything else. A team decision was then made to order take out, opting to stay home instead in order to avoid the snow seeing that Jeno has to leave early in the morning tomorrow. The last thing he wanted to worry about was his car getting stuck.

You sat on Jeno’s lap as Jaemin ordered food from the other room. The snow began to cascade just then, lighter than you originally thought considering the news forecast this morning, but the wind looked menacing as it pushed snowflakes into the other on occasion. You cuddled closer to Jeno when a slight draft squeezed its way into the window, just barely caressing the skin on your arm enough to leave bumps in its wake.

Jeno pressed his lips against your hair as he rubbed your arm slightly, using the same hand to tuck stray strands of hair away from your face. You sigh and lean against his palm, looking up and watching as his eyes scanned from your forehead to your chin, the left corner of his lip lifting ever so slightly.

“Cold?”

You smile and shake you head in response, “not when you’re here.”

Jeno chuckles and pulls you in for a kiss, deeper than other ones you’ve shared today as his warm hands frame your face, pulling you closer as your breath fans his face in unsteady waves. Your heart presses against your ribcage, threatening to burst with adoration as Jeno’s hands move from your face to your waist, fingers just gently brushing against the exposed skin that laid there—imitating the brisk December air as his fingertips, too, left goosebumps with every stroke.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you more,” you reply sweetly, pulling away just slightly to glance in his eyes to later look at his swollen bottom lip.

You had met Jeno when he was only 18—a gangly street kid who knew his way around guns and who was always riding his illegal temp car around the block. He convinced you to go on a date with him after he joined you for a walk when you were feeling the weight of university crushing onto you. You met Jaemin little afterwards, being introduced to you as Jeno’s best friend and right hand man. The two were inseparable and remain to be as the two ultimately fell in love with you, and you with them. Even now, four years later and at 23 years old, you couldn’t imagine a life without them, and you refused to as the two of them gave you everything you could ever want and more, with endless amounts of love and trust, you were one of the few that was blessed with two soulmates.

You were pulled out of your reverie as Jeno connected your lips together again, this time pressing you against the couch and giggling as his teeth made small marks around your neck. Beaming up at the other, you pulled Jeno closer into another intimate kiss as you wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting your hips as you feel his thumbs fidgeting with the band of your jeans.

“I got pizza and chicken, both should be here in a little considering the snow—what the fuck?”

You chuckle as you watch Jeno roll his eyes and pull away, sitting up on the couch on as he pulls you up with him. Jaemin blinked and sat on the chair on the opposite side of the couch, crossing his arms and very visibly pouting as he turned on the tv.

“No, don’t let me interrupt you. Continue what you were doing. I’ll be here catching up on the newest episode of I Live Alone, maybe I can ask them to host me next.”

“You’re such a fucking baby, come here,” You huff, leaning over and pulling Jaemin to the couch and connecting you lips with his next. Jeno liked to lead whenever the two of you kissed, but when it came to Jaemin, he liked to be guided—not only in kissing but in the moments afterwards as well. He wanted to know where to touch, how long and how hard.

“Jeno was just keeping me warm that’s all, we were just waiting for you,” you whisper, pressing your lips against the space between his chin and ear. “We always wait for you, Jaem.”

“In fact,” Jeno starts, “I’ll give you the honors of starting.”

Jeno pulls you against his chest, his hands taking yours as he holds them tightly behind your back. Your eyes widen as you look behind at Jeno, your eyes furrowing together as he gives you a playful peck at the nose. Jaemin grins then as he sits on his knees to unbutton your jeans, pulling them down your knees as you are left in your underwear, pressing your knees together in an attempt to save whatever decency you had left. But your plans were fruitless as Jeno hooked his legs around yours, leaving you no choice but to expose yourself to the other man in front of you.

“Fuck, Jeno, I knew your obsessive gym habit would pay off,” Jaemin grinned, watching as you huffed and tried to move your arms.

“Maybe next time you’ll go with me.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.”

You rolls your eyes and rested your head against Jeno’s strong chest. You were beginning to think they planned this.

Jaemin carefully pushed your underwear to the side with a single finger, watching your pussy clench around the cold air.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Take a fucking picture of it, why don’t you?” You snip, aggravated that Jaemin takes his time today of all days.

“That’s a great idea,” Jeno grins. “Jaem, go get the camera.”

Jaemin shared his smile as he ran to the bedroom, quickly grabbing the pink instant camera along with other items as you writhed in Jeno’s arms. The pink instant camera was responsible for many lewd photos, polaroid pictures of you with Jeno’s cock in your mouth and Jaemin’s cock in your pussy, photos of you fucked out at full of cum, creampies, and any other disgusting photo you allowed them to take. You got a kick out of it too, but you’d never let them know. To your knowledge, Jeno still had a picture of you tied up with cum dripping out of you in his wallet, while Jaemin had one where your shirt was pushed up to your neck, tits in show as you drunkly had written *PROPERTY OF NA JAEMIN* on them.

One day you were going to fucking kill them both.

“Make sure you get her wet enough, Jaeminie,” Jeno mumbled, more for you as he kissed your earlobe. “I want the flash to catch how wet her pussy is for us.”

You whine out as Jaemin pressed his finger inside without warning, taking out and using your wet to spread it across your clit. You groan as Jaemin takes your clit in between his thumb and index finger, squeezing just hard enough to make your knees shake. You hear the camera go off and you watched as Jaemin sighs happily, tossing the photo to the side as he relocates his fingers to your mouth, pressing them against your tongue,

“Suck for the camera, baby,” Jaemin all but cooed as you followed your order, hallowing your cheeks around the slim finger as the flash went off again and another white piece of film was discarded on the table.

“Jaemin,” you cry. Jaemin’s eyes flashed with faux concern as he removed his finger from your mouth and cupped your face.

“Yes, baby? What’s wrong, angel?”

“More.”

“More? More what, Angel? Photos?”

You shook your head as you did your best to press against Jeno’s erection, the same one that was pressed against your back.

“I want more of you—of you and Jeno.”

Jaemin hummed and tucked your hair behind your ear, much like Jeno earlier as he looked at said man. “What do you think, Jen?”

Jeno smiled softly, “whatever angel wants,”

“Angel gets.” Jaemin sighed, “Jeno has you so spoiled, baby.”

You couldn’t help but to smile helplessly as Jeno released your arms. You notice the red marks and couldn’t help but to worry for the bruises tomorrow—but you were immediately distracted by the fact that Jeno was already removing your sweater and bra while Jaemin finally pulled your underwear off.

“Who do you want where, baby?” Jeno breathes.

“I want Jaem in my mouth,” you breathe as pressed his lips against yours. “I want you in my pussy.”

“Fuck, baby—“

“No foreplay.” You warned, glaring at them both. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jaemin groaned as he pulled your head towards him, lips smacking against each other as you messed with his pants, finally releasing him from the restraints of his underwear as Jaemin pulled away with a breathtaking smile.

“Go on then,” Jaemin’s fingers threaded in your hair as your head leaned towards his twitching length. Just then, Jeno had shoved himself inside of you, a bit rougher than usual as your head bumped into Jaemin’s stomach without warning.

“Fuck, Jen, she hasn’t even started yet.” Jaemin glared.

Jeno followed Jaemin’s glare with smile as he thrusted in you time and time again. Thank God or whoever was listening that Jeno took order so obediently.

You took Jaemin’s cock in your mouth shortly after, moving your head up and down until you halted, taking Jaemin’s hands as a sign to take the pace into to his own. You watched as he groaned and tossed his head back to expose his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing every time you swallowed or gagged on his dick. Jeno changed his angle just slightly and he was hitting the spot you loved in seconds, crying and grunting against Jaemin’s cock as tears spilled over your cheeks, the vibrations from your moans only making Jaemin more sensitive as he threatened to cum down your throat.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck me,” Jaemin moaned, your name falling from his lips like a mantra, “so fucking hot-- so fucking tight, gonna cum baby, gonna cum down your slutty throat.”

You looked up at Jaemin, giving him silent permission as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips stuttering as you sucked him dry, not letting a drop of cum go to waste as he cock spewed cum. Jaemin all but whined your name as you sucked at the tip of his sensitive head, breathing heavily as he pried your head off his cock. Your head rested on Jaemin thigh as Jeno continued to fuck your relentlessly, sloppy noises coming from your pussy as you squeeze Jeno tighter and tighter.

Now that Jaemin was out of your mouth, your moans came louder and louder as you neared your orgasm. Jaemin brushed your sweaty hair to the side as he took your phone out, pressing record as he focused on your face.

“How’s Jeno’s cock baby? Tell the camera.”

You gave a glare at Jaemin through the camera, knowing that he knew your voice was too hoarse to respond. He grinned from the other side and opted to focus on your hole instead, lewd squelching sounds coming from the other end as Jeno fucked you as if his life depended on it.

“Angel, your pretty little pussy is so close, isn’t it?” Jaemin cooed, zooming into your face and you gripped his free hand and chanted Jeno’s name. Jaemin grabbed your clit in between his fingers like he did early, pulling at it as your eyes glazed over, huffing nonsensical words as you felt pressure building in your abdomen.

“So fucking pretty.” Jaemin sighed, pulling at a nipple before slapping it, “so fucking angelic. That’s why you’re our angel, right baby?”

You nodded and moaned for Jeno again, panic rising in your throat as you felt a familiar gush tease at your clit.

“Jeno, pull out, pull out,” You rasped. You barely made it on time before you spray against Jeno’s cock, listening to his curses as he eagerly jacks his cock against your squirting pussy.

“Fuck, gonna squirt all over my cock? My cock fucks you so good, doesn’t it baby? Doesn’t it make you feel good?”

You cried out as another gush pushes out and onto Jeno’s shirt, staining that and his pants underneath with nothing but your squirt. You lay a writhing, twitching mess on the couch, full of cum and other fluids as the poor couch only soaks up what you couldn’t. Jaemin sighs another curse as he leans in to kiss you shortly before Jeno kisses your belly button.

“I love you, baby.” Jaemin beams.

“I love you, Jaem.”

“I love you, angel.”

You thread your fingers through Jeno’s hair, “I love you, Jen.”

“But who do you love more?” Jaemin asked, jokingly as he knew more than Jeno that you have an equal amount of love.

Continuing with the joke, you pull Jaemin’s arm weakly, “whoever cleans me and this mess up first.”

The answer is interrupted by a knock at the door. Jaemin gets up quickly and shoves himself back in his pants before walking towards the door,  “She can love you more today, Jeno.”

Jeno sighs and looks at you with a smile, “looks like today is my lucky day.”

You smile, “my knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah well,” Jeno gets up swiftly and lifts your up effortlessly, walking towards your shared bathroom as he prepares you a bath. “I’d walk through flames for you. Seven deserts and three tundras just to hear you laugh.”

You smiled as Jeno lowered you in the warm bath. “You’re such a romantic.”

“I know,” Jeno grins, taking the sponge and running it between your legs, “I’m sure Jaemin would do the same. It would only take him longer because he’s lazy. Not to mention, he’s not as poetic as I am.”

Jaemin entered the bathroom then, a tv stand in hands as he sets it on top of the bathtub corners.  He placed a kiss on top your forehead before he sat on the ledge, using chopsticks to help you eat.

“What was Jaehyun talking to you about earlier, Jeno?” You ask, chewing as you tilted your head to the side.

“Just a job for me tomorrow morning,” Jeno looked up at Jaemin. “Hyung said he would text you, did he?”

Jaemin nodded and took pizza in his own mouth, “He did. You’ve got to be there by five.”

Jeno sighed and scratched the back of his head, “it’s a clean up job, if that tells you anything. But five? That means I have to go to bed now.”

“You can go ahead, baby,” you caresses the side of his head, “I probably won’t be awake too long after dinner.”

“I’ll eat with you all for a minute, but I should shower after you take a bath,” Jeno sighed, falling on his back and rubbing his face. “It’s so /cold/ out, I don’t want to go.”

Jaemin kicked Jeno’s side, “you’re going to be packed up tomorrow anyway. You’re probably going to be warmer than usual.”

Jeno grabbed Jaemin’s foot, shoving it to the side before sitting up again, “I guess. I’m going to start packing, I guess. Are you coming?”

Jaemin shook his head, “not with you, no. But I’ll be with Jaehyun hyung watching everything over.”

Jeno grimaced, “lucky you. You get to stay in the warmth of his massive house.”

Jaemin stuck out his tongue before continue to feed you. You watched as Jeno stood up on his feet to kiss you on the crown of your head, “I’m going to take a shower in the other bath. I’ll see you in bed.”

You couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit of upset at the lack of time together—but it was always like this and you couldn’t be mad at him about it now. Instead, you tilt your head back and jut your bottom lip out where Jeno eagerly takes the invitation to kiss you softly.

“I love you, wake me up before you leave tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course baby, get some rest.” Jeno pressed another kiss to your lips before turning to on his heel, only to turn around when he heard Jaemin clear his throat.

“Where’s mine?”

You giggled as you watch Jeno roll his eyes and grab Jaemin’s face with his hands, “you’re so fucking annoying.”

After a chaste kiss, Jeno leaves the room and you’re left alone with Jaemin who moves the food to the side and continues to wash you up before he continues to drain the tub. Wrapped in a warm towel, you move to the bed, shuffling under the bed sheets and watching as Jaemin began to search for pajamas.

“Don’t get in the bed naked you’re going to get cold and then sick,” Jaemin scolded, pulling your arm in attempts to get you out of the bed sheets—but you’ve already decided that you’re not moving an inch.

“I don’t want to, I just want to go to sleep,” You whine, pulling Jaemin closer until he’s sitting next to you. “Let’s just go to sleep, hm?”

“Not yet. I’m going to go get washed up—you better have some clothes on by then.”

“And if I don’t?”

Jaemin squinted and took your face in his hands, squeezing enough to make you laugh, “Jeno says I’m annoying but I think you take the cake.”

“Jeno thinks I’m an angel.”

“Jeno has you spoiled, there’s a difference.”

You stick you tongue out to which Jaemin grins and flicks your nose, “I’ll be back, baby. Get dressed please.”

You scrunch your nose as you agree halfheartedly, scrolling through your phone as you hear the shower turn on in your bathroom and the other turn off. You hear foot steps padding towards you and greet Jeno with a smile, to which he returns with a towel hastily drying his hair.

“Do you not have any clothes on?”

“No. I like it this way, it’s comfortable.”

Jeno shrugs and pulls off his towel to join you, smiling at your warmth before he kisses your shoulder, “I like being comfortable too, actually.”

You laugh and turn to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pressing several kisses on his neck as he holds you tighter, “Jaemin is going to get mad. He’s going to say that you’re spoiling me.”

“But that’s what I do, I love to spoil you,” Jeno hums, running his hands over your arm. “On the other hand, it is cold, angel. Wear a sweater at least.”

You sigh, “but then I’m going to be sweaty when I wake up and then I’ll really get sick.”

Jeno’s eyes creased into little crescent moons before he presses kisses all over your face, “please, just spare me from Jaemin’s future nagging.”

You snorted and pull away from Jeno’s embrace and head for the closet, pulling out a sweater shirt that you’d never seen before and yanking it over your head before returning to bed and into Jeno’s arms. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiled, “good girl.”

Jaemin entered the room shortly after, throwing the towel to the side already dressed in his pajamas, and checking to see if you had any clothes on, smiling when he saw that you had put a sweatshirt on.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You scrunched your nose as Jaemin kisses your forehead, only to look under the sheets and sigh. “I meant pants too.”

“Please let me go to sleep.”

“Fine, fine,” Jaemin sighed, laying down and pulling the blanket over his chin.

The lights were turned off seconds afterwards, Jaemin opted to scroll through his phone a bit longer while Jeno’s eyes seemed to close just then. You curled next to Jeno this time around, seeing that Jaemin started a game and wasn’t particularly good at cuddling when he was tense. Jeno wrapped his arms around you and just like that, the two of you fell asleep.

At around four thirty, you woke up to the other side of the bed shuffling. You were curled to Jaemin’s side now, said man refusing to wake up as you watched Jeno’s naked silhouette walk in the dark.

You watched as he got dressed, pulling on underwear and pants first, and watching him dig deep into the closet where a hidden compartment hid. You watched him type each number, 76842, the passcode to Jeno’s hidden arsenal that he gave you should you ever be in the need to protect yourself.

After pulling on a t-shirt, he pulled on his vest, making sure it was sound and heavy against his chest before he continued to layer after grabbing the duffel bag you only assumed he packed the night before.

You sit up quietly, careful enough to make sure you didn’t wake up Jaemin as Jeno turned his head. Even in the darkness you swore you could see his smile. He walked over towards you to kiss you good morning as your blinked your eyes groggily.

“I’m going to on my way out, okay? I’ll be back in two days.”

“Be safe please,” you whisper, squeezing his arm. “I love you so much. Come back to me in one piece.”

“I’ll be okay, angel. I always am.” Jeno placed his duffel bag on the floor before pulling you in for a kiss, “I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll call you before I come home. Try not to kill Jaem while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” you smiled, listening to Jeno’s soft laughter.

“I love you. I’ll be back Tuesday.”

Your stomach churned in unease, “okay.”

Jeno was quiet for a moment before he sat down completely, “are…you going to cry?”

You nod as you wrap you arms around his neck, surprising Jeno as this had been the first time you showed fear before he left. “Just be careful, okay? Renjun never comes for a simple visit and Jaehyun coming to find you never means anything good so please, please, be careful, okay?”

Jeno pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours, holding your head as he brushes tears away, “you have nothing to worry about. I promise. I know, things seems suspiciously tense, but Jaehyun isn’t going to let anything happen to me and Jaemin will be there too, and you know he won’t let anything happen either.”

You continue to wipe tears from your face as Jeno pulled you closer, “I need you to trust me. If I don’t come home to you, you can bring me back to life and kill me yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? After everything I said you only give me an okay to murdering me yourself?”

You gave a small laugh, but it was enough to make Jeno feel comfortable with leaving.

“I’ll call you tonight.”

“You just said tomorrow.”

“Well, I lied, so,” Jeno grinned, kissing you once more. “I really have to go, angel. I don’t want to be late.”

“Okay. I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you more, angel.”

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[expertmakodriver]

30 Day Mass Effect Challenge: Day 5

5. Favorite character?

Surprising (hopefully) not a soul: Garry Vakary himself

(Disclaimer: I’m going to be talking about him in the context of the first two games while disregarding the third. Also, while Femshep technically is my favorite character, I already made a post about her, so I’m making this section about Garrus.)

Strap in, folks, because this is going to be a long post. 

When I first encountered Garrus, I immediately felt a connection to him since he seemed like one of the few people on the Citadel who actually gave a shit about stopping Saren. Despite being a C-Sec officer bound by red tape, he proved that he was a man of action by leaving all of the bureaucracy behind and getting some real work done with Shepard and the Normandy crew. Since turians and humans had a few remnants of tension between them as a result of the Relay 314 Incident/First Contact War, which was still somewhat recent, it was nice to see another turian, besides Nihlus, act civilly towards a human. 

Garrus was so eager to step up and take action against Saren; of course I let him aboard the Normandy. His struggle and Shepard’s struggle with politics are very similar; they both don’t like being told what to do by clueless politicians/higher-ups who try to prevent them from solving problems. This comes into play when Garrus and Shepard begin conversing more and more on the Normandy. I’ve always felt that Garrus’s interactions were a bit more profound than those of any other crew member; they don’t just talk to each other, but exchange opinions and feedback and really try to understand each other. They eventually develop a sort of mentor-protégé relationship to the point where Shepard really has a deep effect on Garrus in terms of his way of viewing the world. I had Shepard lead Garrus down the Renegade path while enforcing a few Paragon ideas (such as being cautious of the thin moral line that any Spectre walks as someone with nearly unlimited power in Citadel space), and I still do to this day.

I’ve always found it funny that Garrus is always super respectful to Shepard despite being a bit of a jerk to pretty much everyone else. Seeing him thank the commander at the end of the game for letting him in on the action and teaching him some valuable lessons was heartwarming, too. It made me kind of sad to think that he would go back to C-Sec after the war with Saren and Soverign was over, especially since he seemed to be so miserable there, but it was nice to know that he would follow Shepard’s lead and train to be a Spectre later on. 

Fast forward to Mass Effect 2, and I was so upset when The Illusive Man said that Garrus had disappeared a few months after the Normandy was destroyed. I kept wondering what had happened to him and if he would ever appear in the game again, but when I took a closer look at Archangel’s dossier and noticed the line “omni-tool expert and noted sniper” on it, I became very suspicious despite not wanting to get my hopes up.

Throughout Archangel’s recruitment mission, I kept worrying. Hearing the mercs talk about how Archangel had been cornered and put through hell for the past few days didn’t sit well with me. I think that was the one point at which I hoped that Archangel wasn’t Garrus, because I didn’t want to imagine Garrus going through all of that on his own. When I saw that Archangel had blue armor, I knew for sure it was him. Taking off his helmet and revealing his identity to Shepard made me so happy that I wasn’t at all bothered by how little I was surprised. I wasn’t entirely relieved, though, because Garrus was still in immediate danger. Seeing him so tired and damaged was rough; he was fairly different from the enthusiastic C-Sec officer that I had brought with me on every mission in the previous game. Even though he was exhausted and didn’t exactly have sufficient energy to physically display his emotion, you could tell just how happy he was to see Shepard alive and kicking. “Yeah I shot at you, Shepard. I wanted to get you moving so you could come get my ass out of here.”

When Shepard was forced to leave his side to close the shutters in the base’s lower level, I was in full panic mode. I didn’t trust Jacob or Miranda enough to leave them alone with him. Then when Garrus was nearly killed by the rocket that blew half of his face off, I literally had to pause the game and calm myself down because of how pissed I was. Of course I was distraught at the sight of his motionless body bleeding out on the ground, but I was also upset with the possibility that the game would give me a surprise reunion with my favorite character just to kill him off so quickly. I was, for the second time, overjoyed when I saw that he was alive a few moments later, but hearing him gasping for breath and choking on his own blood with Shepard, who is almost always composed and level-headed, freaking out while trying to help him was heart-wrenching. 

Then, right after I see Shepard looking very nervous and upset as Jacob explains the extent of Garrus’s injuries to her back on the Normandy, the smug bastard himself walks out of surgery and just casually waltzes up to Shepard like, “It’s only a flesh wound, I’ve had worse” and I literally thanked BioWare out loud for not killing Garrus. Shepard’s look of absolute relief and joy when she saw that he was okay was very touching, as was the fact that Garrus expresses that he’s more worried about Shepard than himself even though he nearly died a few hours ago. Garrus was so eager to fight alongside Shepard again that he put himself right to work at the Main Battery, and that really demonstrated how much trust he had in Shepard and her motives though I wish there was an option to have Shepard tell Garrus to focus on relaxing and getting some rest. Poor guy just went through hell and already wants to bury himself in calibrations. 

While Shepard and Garrus were catching up later on, Shepard was so gentle with Garrus while she asked him about his team and what he had been doing while she was gone, and I could see how broken he was by the death of his team and the betrayal of his former teammate. I felt bad for him. When he asked Shepard to help him find Sidonis a few hours of gameplay later, I knew it was because he wanted the moral support - he wanted Shepard to be there with him while he sought closure with Sidonis (regardless of how he gets it). 

Seeing Shepard and Garrus so synchronized while they tracked down Harkin and obtained information about Sidonis was great. They seem more like partners than mentor and student, and that was exactly what the writers were going for. 

When it came to allowing or preventing Sidonis’s death, I let Garrus shoot him, and I continue to do so during every playthrough. There are three main reasons for this, the first being that I felt that Shepard shouldn’t be involved in the situation as both a separate party and a non-turian. Turians have their own culture and deal with responsibility and leadership a bit differently than humans do; they pride themselves on taking ownership over their choices and putting the safety and interests of the whole before the individual. Sidonis broke both of these cardinal rules. Garrus, as both a turian and the leader of the group who Sidonis had betrayed, felt obligated to serve justice to Sidonis, another turian, and that is inherently something that Shepard cannot fully understand as a human. It wouldn’t feel right to let Shepard deny Garrus the right to deal with Sidonis in the way that he saw fit.

The second reason is that Sidonis was more than just a coward; he had the opportunity to warn Garrus of the trap set by the mercs for his squad, but he didn’t. Garrus says that he learned through some old contacts that Sidonis “booked transport off of Omega just before the attack” and disappeared. He didn’t even try to make things right with Garrus by confronting him afterwards and apologizing. This is why I’m not bothered by Garrus wanting to kill Sidonis. If I felt that Garrus was being too destructive or going too far, I would have had Shepard steer him back in the right direction. He kept himself in check well enough (like when he didn’t kill Harkin). 

And finally, the third reason: If Shepard came back to the Normandy one day and found that everyone - Garrus, Joker, Mordin, Tali, etc - had been slowly and painfully killed by an enemy group because, say, Jacob had been captured and sold Shepard out (and didn’t even try to warn Shepard or stop the attack), you know damn well that most, if not all, players would bring the fury of hell onto him. 

Now for the juicy part: Garrus’s romance. When I was innocently exploring Garrus’s dialogue options after his loyalty mission and stumbled across the “We could ease stress together” line, I lost my freaking mind. The game is going to let Shepard sleep with Garrus? Is this for real? I didn’t immediately realize that “easing tension” would turn into “making love and wordlessly declaring mutual feelings for each other”, so I was a little disappointed at first, but I was willing to take what I could get. Garrus was so flustered by Shepard’s proposition, to the point where he seems like he wasn’t expecting her to be interested in him at all, and seeing badass vigilante, merc leader, and hero of Omega turn into a shy softy around her was cute. 

Through further dialogue, Garrus began to hint that he had feelings for Shepard, and ugh it was so endearing. He made subtle remarks about wanting more than just “blowing off steam” with her without making his feelings obvious, probably because he didn’t want to chase her away with his heart, and when I combined this with the fact that despite these feelings, which he has had for who knows how long now (maybe even the first game?), he isn’t the one to make the first move, I realized that Garrus was probably too afraid of approaching Shepard with any sort of interest that he had in her because he didn’t want to be rejected and/or feared ruining their relationship. That was the final straw for me: I was super attached to his character at this point. The little dork wanted to watch porn to learn how to properly satisfy a human woman and thought that playing shitty club music was a good idea. The nerd. The doofus. I love him.

I’m just going to admit it: the first time I saw his romance scene with Shepard right before the Omega 4 Relay, I went from laughing as he awkwardly played techno music and tried to woo Shep with his bad flirting skills to tearing up as he confessed to her that he wanted their time together to be special and that he wanted to do things right. Notice how this is different from something he said previously about how if their romantic rendezvous goes south due to species incompatibility, fighting the Collectors would be “a welcome distraction” and wouldn’t be a big deal. Oh, no. It would be a big deal. Garrus wants to give Shepard the best final moment of peace he can before they take on the Collector base, and when Shepard shut him up and they touched foreheads (which I suppose is like the turian equivalent of a kiss given that turians don’t have lips to kiss with) I just lost my mind. I cried and I’m not ashamed to say it. It takes a lot to make me cry, since I’m not easily moved, but seeing Garrus and Shepard so happy in such a tender moment was too much for me. My two favorite characters enjoying peace and joy that they deserve. Beautiful. 

The suicide mission - I have all my upgrades, all loyalty missions complete, and I’m still freaking out about who is going to die and who is going to survive. I made the right choices in terms of who I assigned to what, but even with Garrus at Shepard’s side the whole time, I was again in full panic mode. I had like three separate heart attacks thinking that Garrus was about to be killed. I was literally shouting in horror as this happened: 

Everything worked out in the end, though. The whole crew survived, the base was destroyed, and Shepard got to snuggle with Garrus in her cabin afterwards. I was very, very happy.

So yeah, Garrus having such a profound character and being not just a likable badass but also Shepard’s most loyal companion is why I love him so much. Evidently, this is also why he’s one of the most, if not the most, popular characters from Mass Effect. Archangel owns all of our asses.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Anyway, would you imagine the madness that would be the Civil War (2006) Event if it was released today?

Like...

1- There is a major explosion wiping out a suburban, white picked american town in the midwest, explosion started right next to a school, caused by a team of C List superheroes literally attacking a group of B list Supervillains, who were having a barbecue there for some reason, just to get more ratings on their reality show rather than any heroic duty. Many people die, mostly kids due to the school, and we see the bloody aftermath. Even the Sentinels, compared to burning crosses in terms of racial sensitivity by Wolverine, help out to fish out people from the debris.

2- Because of this, major Anti Superhero Sentiments start sprouting up in the country. One of the victims’ mother (A major player in the event believe it or not) spits on Tony Stark’s face. The Human Torch gets lynched by some black stereotypes because he was allowed to go into a exclusive nightclub with a white girl due to his celebrity status and they weren’t, major protests start going trough the nation, all demanding SOMETHING to be done against those pesky superheroes, As monuments are being torn down and what not, as ALL superheroes, as a social class, at fault for what has happened there during the explosion.

3- This brings us to the Government Regulation Thing, THE Superhero Registration Program. Maria Hill, who wasn’t a Skrull Chaos Agent and has never been (It’s important you remember this), announces to Captain America that the... senate? chamber? Anyway, someone is going to approve this new law (Which, you know, isn’t law yet btw) that will require all superheroes to have their Identity revealed to the public and become paid government workers. They get a pension and health insurance and insurance for any collateral damage they cause as long as they do what they are told and do not step out of line.

You know, Normal, TOTALLY not fascist shit.

4- Anyway, Cap obviously is outraged by this, for “How Long until it will be Washington that tells us who the real villain is” (Which is, you know, SUPER RELEVANT), and claims will never sign up for any of this, which Maria Hill, who, again, is not a Undercover Skrull Chaos Agent, knew he was going to say so she tries to arrest him for breaking a law that isn’t a law yet, unleashing plenty of armed guards and a couple of attack helicopters on him. She fails, he runs away, and the other superheroes are presented with a choice.

CONFORM OR BE HUNTED DOWN LIKE DOGS.

5- If you think this was bad prepare for the real bad shit to start now, because you have to keep in mind this:

The registration side are the supposed good guys here. They are what the narrative consider to be the one who win at the end, whose ideals were better than Captain Fucking America’s. Keep this in mind as you read this:

6- The Major 3 players of the Registration Side are Tony Stark, Mister Fantastic and Hank Pym.

6A- Tony Stark is a war criminal. He tries to stage a terrorist attack on Independent Nation Atlantis, using a “Mind Controlled” Norman Osborn (More on this later) to pull the trigger, so he could both kill Namor and start war with the underwater kingdom, whose Non Namor Rulers will surely try to get revenge against the surface for such happenings, sell weapons during the ensuing war, AND unite the divided superhero community against a common enemy, in this case, Atlantis.

Tony Stark is also responsible for the Supervillain Rehabilitation Program, which is taking willing and unwilling supervillains alike and putting bombs in their brains, ready to blow up at a sign of disobedience, so to use as enforcers for the registration side. Many of those villains have a kill count on the double digits. Many of those villains where later deployed in hunt down and capture missions of Superheroes who had defected, superheroes they all had a hate boner for and loved nothing more but to beat up and potentially kill/maim. One of the fucking Hobgoblins was among them. BULLSEYE WAS FUCKING AMONG THEM.

He manipulated Spider-Man into revealing his identity to the world, something that caused major Bullshit to everyone involved, for, once Spider-Man realized what kind of bullshit he had signed up for and decided to go rogue, Tony first hacks the stark patented supersuit he gave him as a gift so it malfunctions, then sends 2 bloodthirsty supervillains armed to the teeth with explosives and with bombs in their brain to capture him and rough him up a little, then removes peter’s wife and aunt from the family protection/hostage program, which forces them to hide out in a crappy motel in fear that one day a supervillain discovers where they are and bombs them, which guess what is what fucking happens in the end since a sniper finds out they are there and shoots Aunt May, which is what ultimately leads to the worst story in comic book history ONE MORE (FUCKING) DAY.

6B- Reed “Mister Fantastic” Richards is presented by the narrative as emotionally distant and abusive to his wife. He will, with the help of Tony Stark and Hank Pym, create a mechanical clone of Thor, who was absent from earth at the time, with the sole purpose of crowd control and dispersion in the event of a superhero vs superhero fight.

Lethal Force is apparently authorized and approved, for The first mission he is deployed in, Clone-Thor, the clone of a bloody Norse god, ends up Killing Black Goliath, a black superhero, something not contested, in fact almost condoned by the narrative and the registration side, and both the reason why Spider-Man defects and a Hydra Scientist (Oh, yeah, they also conscript Hydra Scientists in the thing so tho create more bio weapons and shit) finds the reason why he considers those three his favorite superheroes.

Also Reed Richards is a McCarthy apologist. He talks about this one uncle of his, a artist, who was considered a communist and was put on trials for having left leaning, liberal views/just being a plain weird artist (I think he was also gay coded?), and he says how he mocked the question and the absurdity of the whole situation in particular and McCarthyism in general, which ultimately blacklists him from work and makes him die alone and without money, so Reed Fucking Richards of course said that the moral of that story is that “My uncle was wrong, If there is a law that might seem unjust, you shouldn’t be down to clown but you should just shut your mouth and keep going.”

The Fucker.

6C- Hank Pym starts a fucking child soldiers conscription program. Teen Superheroes discovered by shield will be captured and separated from their families, Identical Robotic Decoys put in their place to prevent the families from finding out, and will be conscripted into the registration program as child soldiers.

They will be given a usa army approved regiment of training, and will be soon deployed on real, life or death missions, either involving the capture of rogue superheroes or fighting “enemy” forces such as AIM or HYDRA, what the government seems more fit to fight at the time.

The Kids, for ages seemed to vary from 15 to 19, will be trained and encouraged to kill, especially if faced with faceless hydra goons as they blast down their aircraft in a dog fight in the skies. This will of course scar and traumatize the, again, 15 years old government sanctioned child FUCKING soldiers, but not as much as the alternative to this.

For, as it is shown, failure to comply with orders, as well as emotional instability due to being, you know, a 16 years old girl in stressful situations such as, you know, a guy turning into a giant spider in front of you, will cause the government to “terminate” your employment under them, which will result in them forcibly taking away your powers, most of whom you were born with, with invasive, unwilling, non sedated surgery on you, as it happens to a girl whose arm is a literal magic gun who had her, you know, magic arm cut off after she accidentally misfired and kills another of the kids watching from the, you know, not that safe watching room not even a glass mirror away from the training room.

No wonder the girl whose superpower is literally just “can make pretty clouds with her mind” is so eager to kill as many people the government as her to after being conscripted while she was just flying around on her cloud and has to witness... you know, all of this shit.

6C- Maria Hill, Director of Shield and, again, not a fucking Skrull Chaos Agent, starts hunting down unregistered superheroes. Any superhero that didn’t sign up the registration list at least on the exact midnight of the day the law is made law, will be hunted down and forcibly imprisoned without a due process.

This happens to Luke Cage, who, again, on the exact midnight the law is enforced, not a minute more, had his apartment swarmed up with cops in tactical gear ready to “arrest him” despite him doing nothing yet, all the while shooting around the, you know, predominantly black neighbor like they are the Simpsons’ Texan guy. His wife and newborn daughter are also hunted down, the two fleeing to Canada, a safe heaven for superheroes and their families in this time of crisis, for undefended families of superheroes become leverage the registration side can use against them to make them sign up, for at some point a superhero must have revealed his identity to another superhero, another superhero that will statistically be either on the registration side snitching on you, or, you know, a Undercover Skrull Chaos Agent, if not both.

Captured heroes are shipped off to a private prison owned by Tony Stark and his goons in the Negative Zone (Think hell, but more depressing), where they will be interned without, again, any semblance of due process, and will be fucking kept in torture pod of virtual reality for the entirety of their stay. They will not be allowed any contact with the other inmates, or even to feed, relieve or just wash themselves, everything will be done by the pods, so that they will be in eternal, perfect imprisonment until they “see the error of their ways”.

Somewhat worse than the Barry Allen’s private prison in the Flash, if only by just a little.

Some brain washing was also implied to happen.

7- Cap’s Side is, of course, against all of this, yet it will be Cap’s side to lose the civil war, for , when Captain America is pummeling Tony to the ground for everything that has been going on in the middle of a devastated time square, some REAL WORLD HEROES (You know, a cop, a nurse, a fireman, and so on), tackle Steve to the ground, blame HIM for everything wrong that has happened, and ask him to stop in his futile resistance.

Statistically Speaking, at least 2 of those people were a Skrull Chaos Agents BTW.

Steve “sees the error of his ways,” surrenders to the police, is about to be given a sham process (He gets one but fucking daredevil, a lawyer, doesn’t as he’s shipped off to Tony’s Hell Prison? I guess there is a upside on getting arrested by the program in front of witnesses that you cannot all silence) until Sharon Carter shoots him on the steps to the courtroom because he was being mind controlled by a undercover hydra hypnotist that might or might have not been conscripted by the “let’s conscript supervillain scientists in the registration program, WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?” thing.

8- Also Hawkeye comes back to life for a bit and is immediately almost manipulated by Tony into taking the Captain America’s role after Steve's death, except this time working for the registration side against his friends, which he ALMOST accepts because he doesn't know what the fuck is going on yet but he trusts tony until he meets Hawkeye (The girl one) and Patriot during his first mission as Registration Cap who tell him “Duuuuude, Steve’s body isn’t even cold yet, what the fuck” which makes him go “Holy shit Tony, what the fuck?” and make him decide to abandon the shield and shit and lay low for a while.

9- Oh, yeah, also this happens:

(Recognize that journalist? Is the same journalist that gives Hydra Cap a interview about how inhumane Hydra was during their regime, the one he sends to the labor camps and mocks with “I’m sure you can complain about it on Twitter later.” That wasn’t just a dig at the (Justified, oh so justified) detractors of Hydra Cap on social medias, but also a dig at THIS. FUCKING. SCENE. THAT WILL LIVE IN INFAMY FOR ALL DAY TO COME, FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA IS OUT OF TOUCH WITH THE REAL AMERICA BECAUSE HE DOESN'T USE MY FUCKING SPACE).

10- What else what else... Oh, yeah, everyone favorite absolute monarch T’challa, King of Wakanda and Black Panther, married with X-Men’s Storm at the time, X-Man that, btw, have been pretty much neutral during this whole shitstorm due to, you know, the “genocide” they recently suffered by the hands and mystical powers of one Wanda Maximoff, both of whom have diplomatic immunity due to the, you know, status as the rulers of a hyper advanced nation who holds the cure for cancer among other things, has his wife taken hostage by the united states. They go to the united states on a joint diplomatic mission, and are promptly ambushed and kept grounded in the states, separated from each other, until at least Ororo signs the registration program, T’challa having to follow closely behind, and then they will be allowed to be let go.

Again, I can’t stress this enough, The United States try to strong arm 2 foreign rulers, one of whom a mutant, into signing up a domestic policy about domestic internal affairs of public security.

Because of course they do.

10- I think I forgot some minor shit happening like speedball’s entire arc or Wolverine’s revenge plan or the Latverian Caper, but I think the gist of WHY this bullshit would have blown up today is all here.

For you see, now, imagine all this shit all the implications, the crimes, the horrors and stuff...

Just Imagine, all this shit is going on... with a Secret Invasion of Skrull Chaos Agent coming soon to shake thing even more...

And the president of the united states, the one that, again, ultimately will decide who the REAL enemy is, where the real supervillain to fight is...

Is Donald Fucking Trump.

How long until the superhero child soldiers are tasked to guard the border I wonder...

[windmaedchen-unknown]

Aftermath

The Phantom right after his failed assassination, recovering and plotting his next move.

The Phantom is laying silently in his hospital bed and blankly looks up at the IV-drip and the small container infusing it with morphine. He does not really need it but he prefers not to tell them why. Tomorrow he would ask them to stop the pain management, though. It slows his thinking.

His game in court went down yesterday afternoon. He was shot and brought to an emergency room in the evening. Since then he laid here, guarded at all times, having been subjected to initial questioning before being allowed to rest for the evening, as matters are being arranged further.

As things stand at the moment, his best option is to submit himself, thinking things out and see where to go from here. The mistake happened and there is no use in lamenting over it. The key to success is to keep moving, to make the best of the situation at hand. It worked in the past and got him out of ALL situations so far. It is not always clear but if you know how to take advantage of any situation without being too picky about the outcomes you will come out on top no matter what. However, the Phantom cannot deny a distinct uncertainty about his future in THIS case because of his unmasking and its relation to what and who he is. He might never be able to accept assignments again and it keeps nagging at his mind, for this is the very core of his existence. Closing his eyes, he forces those thoughts into the background, for now. Much will change, that is for sure, but he cannot skip a step to reach his goal. First, he needs to think over the events, his own actions included, and submit them to careful evaluation.

In hindsight, this particular situation of standing in court, was caused by the unfortunate death of that woman seven years ago. If the psychologist had not interrupted him he would not have been forced to silence her.  And, with her daughter’s unexpected attack and injury to his hand, the cursed moon rock would be left untouched. International law enforcements had NOTHING on him, but this moon rock threatened his absolute perfection of anonymity. He never lost sight of it. Was he afraid of his identity being exposed because of it? Well, yes, of course he was, but he never “felt” the physical clenching of his body to accompany that “theoretical feeling”. It was a mere consequence of protecting his anonymity. He does not want his identity to be known so naturally he “fears” its exposure. So what exactly did they expect when they pressed him on the matter. A yes? A no? There was, and still is, no answer to that, for he feels nothing. Except that he was growing more and more annoyed at their pestering about it. Even HE has his limits, no matter how phlegmatic he is.

The psychological profile was another weak point in this whole business and the Phantom watched Blackquill’s movements carefully throughout the years. All the taunts from within the prison reached him eventually. He knew, however, that unless he made a move towards Blackquill, the evidence being presented would be meaningless. Without a case at hand, the profile posed no threat. Leaving it be was a good strategy and with Blackquill’s death sentence finally executed it would remain meaningless forever. His HAT-2 assignment brought him back here into the vicinity, and thus it bore the risk of becoming the very case Prosecutor Blackquill needed to make his move. The Phantom could have refused the assignment, of course, but since it was a prime opportunity to deal with various loose ends at the same time, he accepted the risk. That Blackquill dared to step into the open as he did was unexpected but it did successfully lure in the Phantom. To his own chagrin, this step by the prosecutor made it impossible for for the Phantom to ignore it any longer.

He had made the decision to combine all his goals into this one assignment long before he came up with an actual plan for the day. So when he in-cooperated his personal agenda into his job, was he already too affected to think clearly? Sabotage the start - destroy the moon rock - destroy the psychological profile - get rid of Simon Blackquill and even pin the blame on the girl that caused him all the trouble in the first place. No, he failed to see how he might have been. However, his contingency plans were not adequate enough, obviously, and his opponents saw and took advantage of that.

Generally speaking his plan was not a bad one as such. It was risky, yes, as it always was, in terms of technicalities and need of contingency plans. It simply did not go the way he wanted and he had to admit that he was up against people cleverer than all of the brains of the global law enforcements together. Their unshaking believe in truth and justice, gave them the power to question everyone and everything. If they had not been so loyal to their friends…. if they had not been so…. rational amidst all the emotional drama… he would have gotten away. But he made the mistake to underestimate Phoenix Wright. Oh, the Blackquills and the police were no deal at all, but he never thought one could possibly have so much trust in someone’s innocence as that defense lawyer. Most people would have thrown the towel by the very moment the girl confessed to remembering murdering her own mother but … not Phoenix Wright.

During the later stages of him on the stand, as his words were doubted more and more, the Phantom was slowly filled with stress. An undefinable, uncomfortable contortion of his being. A “feeling” he wanted to get rid of, badly. Such distraction is undesirable. Thankfully he never really has to endure it much in the first place and that bit he encounters occasionally he can easily suppress with his apathetic nature. This time, however, the situation got out of hand due to the constraints of the situation and all control slipped out of his reach. Too many fingers pointing at him, too much doubt and perseverance in those behind the benches. They kept pounding at him and he was not able to remove himself from the situation, as he would usually do. Stress of that kind either numbs you into a silent confession or tears you apart in an outburst one. He saw that often enough in court as Blackquill’s assigned police detective. In his attempt to deal with the situation, he went beyond the point of no return and he was able to feel the wall of emptiness crumbling and breaking down.

Very well then. Then so it was. He allowed them to get him. He knew full well WHAT he was and with that also, WHO he was. Being an empty vessel for other personalities, his own desires and needs were always “theirs” as much as possible under the encompassing purpose of his being. Trying to give an answer to a question he had no idea could ever be so relevant was stressing him and apparently more than he would like to admit. So he gave them what they wanted. A display of fear. The fear itself was real enough, it just never before really made its way out from his subconscious self into the open in such intensity. It was the combination of annoyance, his patience wading, frustration over the seeming importance of emotions and feelings and the stress of his identity being revealed at any time that made him lose focus. All their hammering made him question himself. He always considered his own apathetic nature to be a quality, not a weakness. It allows him to think clearly and independently from emotional attachments and influences, without fear. Yet, these people put so much importance on the strength of emotions, trust and love, that he began to doubt himself, then and there, again. Did he miss out on something? Was he incomplete?

…

No, he left all those questions behind a long time ago. He already tried to understand others. While he learned to read and speak emotions by observation, he only barely experiences it himself. He feels empty by default most of the time. His artificial emotions served their purpose but there was never a real understanding, so he left this quest behind for a reason. It just does not work out for him. He naturally cannot not deliver what others seem to take for granted. He isn’t weaker for not responding to emotions. And the success of his assignments and his professional credence are the very proof of that. With a sigh the Phantom accepts, however, that his resolve is not strong enough yet. He will need to work on the endurance of his guard to prevent another such loss of control. For when it all came down, he found himself in a pitiful position, like a dog with its tail between its legs, wincing for mercy. Unacceptable and shameful.

Even though he is just laying in a hospital, he covers his face with his free hand to protect his privacy.

And then there was the shot.

That sniper put him out of his misery. When the bullet hit him, he felt and heard the metal of Bobby's badge give way. His chest grew cold and he fell backwards by the force of the impact. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the intensity of the sound he perceived, people gasping, screams of terror, footsteps like thunder coming his way and the deafening hammering of the Judges gavel under his own voice demanding order in the courtroom.

That moment he let go of everything and gave in. A retreat into his internal emptiness. He did not want to move or talk. No intention whatsoever to do anything else any further, neither as Detective Fulbright, nor as his own vessel. They could do whatever they wanted to do.

As he felt no pain, he was not riddled by an inexplicable fear of death. He might die, he might not. It depended on his actual condition. He could not tell if he preferred it one way or another. And without moving he was not able to ascertain his condition. He didn't lose consciousness, so he just laid there, breathing slowly, his eyes closed. He remembers Blackquill and the Chief Prosecutor ordering an ambulance. The bailiff touching him and pressing a dressing over Fulbright’s white coat to stop the bleeding. The courtroom being cleared from all spectators. The paramedics desperately trying to talk to him, without success and the subsequent transport from the courthouse to Hickfield Clinic. He refused to open his eyes but he knew that Blackquill had personally brought him up to the doors of the ambulance vehicle by the sound of his steps. It was only inside the small cabin, that he at last acknowledged the paramedic’s presence, for he had no interest in being considered unconscious. It did not help, however, as the moment he was being brought into the hospital he was being put under anaesthetics for the surgery. Needlessly in his opinion but he did not mind the passing of time in slumber and opportunity for his brain to relax from the unusual emotional impact.

When he awoke he was in single bed room. His wrist handcuffed to the bed and a police officer sitting on a chair on the opposite wall, reading the papers. When he moved to correct his position, the officer put the papers down and went outside for a moment. He sighed heavily. At the very least, his injury gave him a soft start into his … momentary capture. The effects of the anaesthetic and the pain management dulled his thinking so responding to some initial questions by the police officers was ineffective even if he had wanted to communicate. So the day went by and he only now has the time and mental strength to go over the past events, introspect and formulate a plan.

Thus, secondly, what are his current needs and which one has highest priority?

His most basic needs are covered. Food, water, shelter are taken care of, even if the quality lacks a little and his privacy is somewhat compromised. It does not matter. He himself has no demands beyond the satisfaction of those basics.

The Phantom moves his right hand. It is tightly handcuffed to the bedside. It appears that this is the biggest issue at the very moment. His personal freedom. He is detained and can’t go anywhere without supervision and physical restraints. Coming up with a plan to remove himself from this situation is certainly the most important matter to apply his brain to. This depends, however, on how they choose to deal with him. The local authorities have to go down the conventional route. They must try him in court first and then decide on the nature of his verdict. Throughout all this he is going to be placed in the detention centre. Once his case has been dealt with on domestic level, Interpol might step in. Not that they have much on him apart from the HAT incidents but they would be fools to not try and coax more out of him. Admittedly, he is actually interested to learn how much they suspect, in return. At the same time, however, their treatment of him would not be as law-abiding and humane, and he expects an escape would be a lot more complex to achieve than from the local prison here. So, if possible, keep himself under Blackquill’s wing and in the establishments he knew well. Take his leave from the detention centre…. or the prison. If Interpol takes him away he would have to act on the fly but by the initial proceedings so far he considers that unlikely.

With his free hand, the Phantom gently touches his chest, where the bullet had hit him. He can act despite this injury. The nurse mentioned that it had changed it’s path after hitting the police badge and went past his heart into his lung instead. Recovery should be swift.

Finally, he allows thoughts of his future to reclaim his mind.

The sniper. He must have come from his current employer. They alone have an interest to shut him up permanently to cover their own name. It was to be expected. As long as he is held by the law enforcements they will seek his death and even after he regains his freedom, they will never be sure if he has not revealed anything. Keeping that in mind, his constant supervision may just be of advantage to him. The rocket launch may have been interrupted but his capture broke the contract and forfeit his entitlement to his reward. With another sigh he bids it good-bye. At the very least, Fulbright had offered a comfortable standard of living unlike some of the other detectives and he was not forced to touch his own money during the past year.

His career is founded on word-of-mouth. He is a freelancer, not tied to anything or anyone in particular and he has actually found himself working against his own employers in the past. His absolute anonymity allowed it. His latest employer is a large one with a lot of international influence. If they consider him a failure, they might just be powerful enough to put him out of work, forever. He most certainly will have to get in touch with his contacts and probe how his reputation is doing. It is vital before returning to his underground circles. Before he can ascertain the true spirit of the situation, however, it is and remains of no use to ponder about it.

The heavy feeling of sleep comes over him as he actively empties his mind. One step at a time. Recover. Protect his life within prison walls. Submit to Blackquill. Avoid Interpol’s terror-treatment. Escape. Re-establish his position.

His thoughts come back and try to circle through his mind but every time the Phantom pays them no heed, they become weaker and weaker… until they finally disappear and make way for the silence of sleep.

[sweater-vest-reid]

{Homecoming}

spencer reid x reader

randomly generated prompts: character: ghost / material: glass / sentence: “aren’t you afraid?”

word count: 1.7 k

years have gone by since your husband, spencer, had been killed. no matter how hard you prayed, you knew he was gone forever. because no one comes back from the dead. right?

a/n: Here is the first of my spencer reid x reader one-shots from randomly generated prompts! this was partially inspired by a french sci-fi show called “les revenants”. I hope you enjoy!

You closed the bedroom door, peaking in at your daughter one last time. After three bedtime stories, the little five-year-old slept peacefully. Satisfied, you shut the door.

It had been a very long day. You’d won your most recent court case that afternoon. And while your hard work paid off, you couldn't take a break. Tomorrow you still had many more cases to prepare for. You loved being a lawyer, but the stress was never-ending.

Waltzing into the kitchen, you decided you needed something to take the edge off. You popped the cork off of a new bottle of wine and poured yourself a hefty glass. Tilting your head back, you took a long, slow drink. 

The house was quiet like it always was after you put Harper to bed. For four years this silence had become your life, and you never got used to it. The quiet suffocated you. 

You wandered around the house, the glass of wine still balanced delicately in your hand. Taking sip after sip, you eventually made your way upstairs to your bedroom.

Sitting down on your bed, you checked your phone. You prayed that there were no important work emails you had to deal with tonight. Thankfully, there were none, only a playdate invite for Harper and a few texts from your sister.

I'll be near your place tomorrow morning. Breakfast?

Your sister was a personal trainer and often came into the city to meet with clients. Whenever she was close by, she would always bring you and Harper breakfast from a bakery nearby. You typed back "sure" before setting your phone down on the bedside table. Your eyes shifted to the framed picture that sat next to your bed. You picked it up, staring at it, fond memories flooding your mind. 

The photo was of you and your husband, Spencer, on your wedding day. It was right after you two cut the cake. The cake eating soon became cake fighting. You two held each other, your eyes locked together, with bits of cake and frosting clinging to your faces. It was your favorite photo. 

You couldn't help but cry when looking at it. You missed him so much. People kept telling you that time heals all wounds. But for you, time only made yours deeper. Having to watch the little girl you two created grow up without him broke your heart.

It was his last case with the BAU, only weeks after Harper turned one. After she was born, Spencer thought he would be able to remain working at the BAU, but the cases got to him. He knew his time with the team was up. 

He’d given Hotch his letter of resignation, planning to walk out of the office and start a new chapter of his life. But, an emergency case came up, and Hotch asked if he’d be willing to work it. One last case. Spencer agreed. You wished he hadn’t. 

The team hypothesized that the unsub was working with a partner. Try as they might, they couldn't find enough evidence to prove it. But he did have a partner: an ex-military sniper with a hatred of law enforcement. The BAU caught him, but it was too late. He'd already taken one of their own. 

One shot. On his forehead. Dead center. They told you there was nothing they could’ve done for him: Spencer was dead before he hit the ground. 

The day you found out was the worst day of your life. You opened your front door, expecting Spencer to be standing there. Instead, it was his team, their eyes red and puffy. Instantly, you knew that Spencer was gone. You crumbled to the floor, screaming, tears flooding down your cheeks.

From that moment on, you and Harper were on your own. It was difficult, raising her by yourself, but you managed. You had too. You tried balancing work and caring for her, but long hours mixed with the grief was too much for your body to handle. Luckily, your job paid well enough that you could afford to take long breaks between trials. But now that Harper was in kindergarten, you’ve since returned to your regular work hours. You hadn’t done that since before you found out you were pregnant. It was sad to think about how much your life had changed.

Harper didn't remember him very well. She was so young when it happened. She could only say a few words. Death was not an easy concept for her to grasp. 

So the things she didn't remember, you filled in the gaps. You filled Harper's room with pictures of Spencer and her when she was young. Every year, you took her to his grave so she could wish her father a "happy birthday". Even years later, the BAU team still came to visit, telling Harper stories about her dad.  

The home you and Spencer once shared still looked the same. You couldn’t bring yourself to put away his things. His clothes still hung in the closet, and his toothbrush still sat in a cup by the sink. You knew you needed move on. After all, it had been four years. But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to. His things were all you had left of him. And getting rid of them meant that you would have to accept that he was truly gone. 

And that was the last thing you could do.

You woke up to the sound of the front door opening. You sat up in bed, noticing that you were still wearing the same clothes you put on for work. You’d accidentally fallen asleep. It must have been the wine, you thought, looking over at your empty glass. 

Your best guess was that it was morning and the person at the door was your sister. You searched for your phone, but it was so dark you couldn't see it. Something wasn't right. It was too dark, and no sunlight shone through the window. It couldn't be morning. 

You found your phone and checked the time.

It was 1:17 am.

If it wasn't morning, then it wasn't your sister who just walked into your home.

You panicked. A stranger was in your house. The only thing on your mind was Harper. She was in her room. You needed to get downstairs to her, to protect her. You didn’t know what you’d do if you lost her too.

You scoured your room, looking for something you could use as to defend yourself. The best you could come up with was the wine glass. You held it out in your hand, ready to strike the intruder, and slowly made your way down the stairs. 

You saw lights coming from the kitchen, and you could hear someone's careful footsteps as they moved to the living room. 

“Hello?” A voice called out.

You froze in your tracks. You would recognize that voice anywhere. That was him. But it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. 

You climbed down the last couple of steps, turning the corner into the kitchen. And then your heart stopped. 

It was like looking into the past. There he stood, brown curls hung down, covering his face he looked down at the book in his hands. His tie sat crookedly underneath his vest.

The wine glass slid out of your hand, hitting the ground and shattering into tiny pieces. The noise spooked him, and he looked up. You gasped. It really was him.

“Spence?” you croaked, tears flooding out of your eyes.

“Hey, sorry I’m home late." He said, placing the book down. 

You just stared at him. How was this happening? 

It wasn't. That's how. You knew that was only a fantasy. People don’t come back from the dead. 

Yet here he was. 

"Are you okay? You look a little pale.” He said, coming towards you.

You sat down on the stairs, your head in your hands. “This can’t be happening.” You said, shaking your head, “This isn’t possible, you can’t be here.”

“[Y/N] what are you talking about?”

He didn’t know.

“Spence….you’re dead”

“Do you remember anything?" You asked him.

You two had moved upstairs to the bedroom, as you didn’t want your voices to wake Harper.

"It's coming back to me. Not everything, just pieces here and there." He replied, shaking his head. 

"Tell me." You said.

"I remember we were in the middle of a standoff. I was standing next to Morgan. I heard Hotch yell something, and then everything went black. The next thing I know, it's dark and I'm walking down an empty street. Then I came right here." 

You wanted to believe him. For years you wished for nothing but Spencer's return, and here he was. But it was too good to be true. He couldn't be real.

You sat down next to him, "Hold up your hand."

Spencer looked puzzled. 

"Please" you begged. 

He held his hand up. Tentatively, you placed your hand on his. He felt real. There's no way you were imagining this. You didn't know how, but Spencer was back. 

"You're a living ghost, Spence." You said your voice breaking.

"I guess I had some unfinished business." 

You two stood by Harper's door, peaking in at the sleeping girl. 

"Doesn’t she look just like you?" you whispered to him. He nodded.

Harper had slept through everything, thank god. She was bundled up in her blankets, clutching a teddy bear Spencer gave her for her first birthday.

“She still has the bear?” You didn't have to look at him to know he was crying.

“Yeah. Sleeps with it every night”

“How old is she?” he whispered.

“Five” you whispered back.

“I’ve missed it.” He said.

“Missed what?” 

“Her growing up. The last time I saw her, she had just started calling me 'dada'. Now she's all grown up."

“She’s still got plenty more growing to do” you reassured, "And now you get to be here for it."

You closed the door to the bedroom, turning to face Spencer. You two were only inches apart, and you could feel the electricity between you. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” He asked.

You leaned up, passionately kissing him for the first time in four years. He pulled you into a hug, embracing you so tightly it became difficult to breathe.

“Afraid?” you whispered, “I could never be afraid of you, my love."

tagged: {want to be tagged in any upcoming spencer x reader oneshots? send me a message and i’ll add you to the list} @faithinchemicals / @itsallintheeyeofthebeholder / @perfectcuddlesize / @xxtaylorsingerxx / @that-karen-dork / @imjustsoawkward / @kavi123-blog / @iliana927 / @daskiwichen / @fly-like-a-grayson / @snowy-studies / @bugalouie / @cassielovelyyyofficial / @brokenporcelainhearts / @teaandfreckles / @everybodywantstobetouched / @jacquelineisawkward / @mspenguin99 / @sheenadaughterofdemons / @ohnolesya / @richie812eddie / @brithefairy / @tofubowls / @dextergirl12345 / @thesmellofasinnamonroll

[peachesfrompluto-archive]

Is there a story for your Starbound ocs? (Btw i loooove their designs!!)

!!! th-thank you!! i’m really sorry it took FOREVER to respond…. busy life ;-;

anyways i’m happy you say that bc i love my starbound babs so much;; there is a story behind them! i was thinking of making an ask/comic blog at some point but i haven’t really found the time yet… “orz

there are A LOT OF THINGS happening in my starbound uni. this isn’t all set in stone because i’m still doing some research and headcanon making and stuff, but this what i got so far;; if you’re interested, here’s a run down of my starbound uni under the cut !

have a gremlin polly

my SB uni takes place after Earth’s destruction. b/c of the Protectorate’s reassuring presence in the galaxy, its disbandment caused a ripple of chaos. sectors suffer from shortage, a rise in criminal activity, and displacement. laws in space were already super flimsy and are still easily exploitable. although each sector functions almost like a country, interstellar politics are kinda screwy because space is huge. but basically, if you got money, charisma, and big guns, you’ve essentially got the power. 

the Protectorate’s fall gave rise to several criminal organizations, as well as strengthened the influence of the Blackstar Syndicate, a deadly all-novakid gang known for their shadowy connections and being extremely successful in their heists and killings. the amount of members BS has is unknown, but their presence has been causing rampant paranoia throughout the galaxy, even moreso with the Protectorate out of the way… BS’s presence has also caused some degree of discrimination against the novakid race (hence why novas are rare + lack of novakid Protectors)

at the same time, the Intergalactic Space Patrol is scrambling to pick up what the Law & Order division of the Protectorate left behind– on the bright side, the IGSP is getting a ton of funding, but it’s all really stressful because now everyone’s turning to them for protection. of course there’s other relief organizations + the USCM rising back to power w/ their human imperialism, Occasus being. Occasus. and Letheia being sus

that’s the background ! the main character is a flirty, pink-flared, heart-branded novakid named Apollo! who is that adorable drop of sunshine anyways?

without spoiling too much abt him, Apollo is a young space outlaw trying to lay low from Space Patrol and Blackstar, of course that doesn’t stop him from getting in trouble with local law. him and his crew do various odd jobs to support their frivolous lifestyles, from black market dealing with homemade drugs and weapons to working part time at space cafes.

the story doesn’t just revolve around polly though, there are other characters like his crew (x) (x), Opal Quartz, Sheriff Agnes and her partner Sheriff Weston Waylo (haven’t drawn), and characters that won’t be relevant for awhile like Professor Aphelion, Phoebe “Foxtrot” McCoy, and Strawberry (haven’t drawn those two either lmao;;)

Opal is a former glitch princess/queen and Protector. she is a philanthropist, colonist, teacher, spokeswoman, and is very protective over Apollo, his crew, and her own. she loves stories, especially the Baron’s, and watching people grow as individuals. a lot of her backstory is really spoilery so i can’t so much abt her either….

Agnes on the other hand is ofc a crusty old dwarf star who works for the IGSP. she’s so old she doesn’t really remember her life as a main sequence star, but she has a fair amount of impressive accolades and photos that it’s no doubt that she was (or still is) one of the best law enforcers and snipers in the galaxy. recently she’s recruited a young man named Weston Waylo, the now former sheriff of her hometown, Copperwood. 

Weston comes from a long line of novakid sheriffs, and even has the signature star brand to prove it! but ever since Weston’s encounter with some nosy hylotl journalists, Copperwood’s been gaining popularity as a spot for space tourists, and he’s been subtly begging Agnes to join the Space Patrol. she eventually lets him “just to see how long he’d last out in space” and appoints his twin brother, Easton, to take his place as town sheriff. 

as for Blackstar well……… i'mma keep them as a mystery…

anyways yea that’s the story behind pollyverse!! it’s a giant mess! but i do have plans for a comic or an ask blog of some kind! just gotta find some timee ^.^;

[airsoftnut]

What Is A Good Beginner Airsoft Gun?

The world of airsoft sucks you in from the moment you venture into it. But for a beginner player, the euphoria can quickly transform into stress when trying to find an airsoft gun that’s both accurate and easy to use.

But here’s the thing…

We’ve all been there. So you need not worry. 

You’ll soon find out the most important things to look out for when choosing a starter airsoft gun from the many products available on the market. You want to know What Is A Good Beginner Airsoft Gun? Lets move

Airsoft Guns

An airsoft gun, whether a gas pistol, carbine aeg rifle, or spring rifle, looks just like real guns, but they are only replica rifles. 

They can’t kill a person or cause any serious injury on your skin, like a real gun, would. But, they will make you feel like you’re in a real battle. 

Look at this…

The 6-millimeter round pellets that fly out of airsoft guns can cause light bleeding and welts, especially on the body’s sensitive parts like the neck and face. 

That’s why you should exercise caution when playing airsoft. Make sure you have your protective gear and follow airsoft field rules.

Related: Best Airsoft Sniper Rifles

Q. What Do I Need to Know Before Getting Into Airsoft?

Before you begin playing Airsoft, keep in mind that getting hit would most likely cause some bleeding and give you welts, especially if the shot is from a very powerful airsoft rifle or pistol with high FPS, or the person is within a close range. 

But the excitement and fun you’ll get running around the field with your buddies are worth more than a minor pain. Right? 

What’s more…

Airsoft guns are replica guns. Be careful how you carry them, or you’d get in trouble. If you want to play with your friends, it’s best to enter an organized airsoft event in your locality. 

Perhaps you stay in a rural environment and want to play in your yard, that’s no problem. Let your neighbors know about your new hubby, or invite them to join. You don’t want them to report you for being a nuisance and part with your money or even get locked up. 

I’ll say that you find the nearest airsoft field around you. With $20, you’ll find a nice place for CQB and clothes. You can also rent gear and other items at an extra price.

Q. Who Can Buy and Use Them?

In the United States, anyone can buy and use an airsoft gun. But people under 18 need parental guidance or consent to enter an airsoft field.

But…

Some cities classify airsoft rifles and pistols as firearms. That’s why you should check the airsoft rules that apply to your location. 

A good example is California, where it is illegal to sell an airsoft gun to children under 18 without parental consent.

In Michigan, kids younger than 14 cannot own an airsoft gun except there’s an adult to supervise them.

Camo will make you less visible, which means that you’ll avoid getting shot at often. Black clothing is an invitation to your opponents to shoot you.

Still…

It depends on the style of the airsoft game you’re playing. For instance, if you’re playing CQB, you can wear camo as it would certainly help. 

But it’s not a do-or-die as other neutral-colored clothing with mild patterns would do fine.

Milsim, on the other hand, demands camo or nothing else.

Q. How Are They Used?

People use airsoft guns for several purposes. 

Airsoft has risen to the top as the most dominant combat sport. Airsoft players enjoy playing airsoft games with sniper rifles because of the grip, internals, trigger response, red dot sight, torque motor, play style and sounds effects, and performance that are just like the ones you’ll get using real submachine guns. 

But there’s more…

Some other folks use airsoft guns for hunting birds and other small animals. 

In places like the UK, law enforcement officials fire airsoft rifles or gas pistols to control teen gang members during a skirmish.

It is also common to find people using a combat machine to play tactical games.

And yet, there are those who use airsoft guns during military training to avoid hurts and death from real guns.

Getting Your First Gun

Before getting your first gun, do some research. Find out which ones are the best beginner airsoft guns amongst the options you’ll see. 

But before that, let’s find out the types of guns you’ll find on the market, based on their power source. 

There are three types of airsoft guns. You’ll find spring airsoft guns, gas guns, and electric guns popularly called AEGs. 

Wait…

Beginners don’t need to buy a sniper rifle at this time. Get a good beginner airsoft gun you can easily maneuver, which will help you with targeting. You can always pick up a sniping role later. 

Firing a Gun

Remember that airsoft guns look just like real guns, but for the orange tips. So, all the rules that apply to firing a real gun apply to firing an airsoft gun.

First, make sure your finger is not on the trigger when you’re not shooting. That way, you won’t accidentally fire at someone. The bullets might not be lethal, but they hurt!

Now, to shooting!

To hit targets consistently, choose a correct shooting stance when firing an airsoft gun.

Also, extend your hands fully. In tactical games, you can hold the gun to your chest to minimize fatigue.

Also, you’re not John Wick, so hold your beginner gun with both hands. It will help your precision and give you more range and accuracy. 

Playing the Game

Ready to play?

When you get to the playing area, check out their rules. Field rules differ from place to place. Here are a few of the general ones: 

In any close quarter back field (CQB field), you must put on eye protection.

You have to call your hits. You’ll only enjoy airsoft games with honest folks. If you get hit, even from a friendly fire from your teammate, make sure you call it.

There’s a required minimum engagement distance that ranges between 10 and 25 feet, sometimes less. So, no shooting at close range.

Accept the ref’s judgment. Arguing will get you thrown out.

Follow instructions given by the refs in charge, or you’d be kicked out. 

Safety First

When it comes to playing airsoft games, especially as entry level players, safety is a big deal. A lot of things can go wrong, especially when a player is careless with their gun.

Here’s what you can do…

First, if you have to play in a yard, choose one without pets or valuable properties. 

Also, put on protection. Wear your eye protection, gloves, boots, and all. You can pick these up at reasonable prices from popular stores like Amazon. 

Make sure players around you have their protective gear on, and do not shoot at someone who’s not wearing any. 

Always hold your gun carefully, and remove magazines when you’re done with a game. Also, keep the gun in its case. An accidental discharge can make a person go blind or break a tooth.

Conclusion: What Is A Good Beginner Airsoft Gun

So you now know what to look out for in the world of Airsoft. You’ve also learned the rules of the game and the importance of safety when handling an airsoft gun.

What’s next?

Check out a few brands. The popular ones are Tokyo Marui, G G, Lancer Tactical, BBTac, Classic Army, and Elite Force. You’ll also learn a lot from our review on the Best Airsoft Guns for Beginners in 2021. 

Go knock yourself out!

source https://www.airsoftnut.com/what-is-a-good-beginner-airsoft-gun/

[quantumsnipers]

Mnemophobia

     A body frozen, breath gasped in while orchestral music drifts around him mixed with the quiet chatter and bustle of people. The equivalent of his life flashing before his eyes, the choices that led up to this point in a split second as he could only stare wide eyed in shock….

     Neil’s lips ticked up into a small smirk as he heard the sharp click of a weapon cocking behind his head.  His hands came up next to his head from where he had been closing his front door, at the familiar nudge of a barrel at the base of his skull. He was hardly surprised, returning to a mercenary life as a sniper after Celestial Being had turned his existence on its head, he had up heaved the existing hitman hierarchy overnight. And he had kept it in disarray ever since by failing to align himself with any one side after all this time.  He took only contracts that he saw as fitting with his personal code and since he was the best at his job, he could name his price.  He had a list of people who would love to see him gone, but only a few of the names on that list had the guts to try.  Even fewer who could have gotten in his place without him realizing.

     “Lockon Stratos.”

     The smirk quickly dropped into a frown as his back went ramrod straight. That title and voice efficiently cut straight thru the mental list to a very specific set of people.  None of whom he was particularly looking forward to seeing. He turned his head to glare over his shoulder, disregarding the dangerous press of metal to his head.  Sure enough, a form familiar from memory of fluffed up black hair and tan skin coolly met his gaze from behind the silenced small caliber barrel. His lips thinned in a tight line as he drug his eyes back to the door, knocking it fully closed with his hip before his hands dropped; he pulled the padded strap of his rifle bag from his shoulder and settled the weight of the bag in the corner, wedged between the wall and side table.  

      “That’s not my name anymore, Setsuna.”  He moved farther into his apartment, disregarding the other male tracking him with a steady weapon arm. He pulled the fridge open and grabbed a beer, cocking the bottle questioningly at the younger, and being met with nothing more than his normal impassive stare, shrugged and closed the appliance door. He tapped the lid of the bottle against the side of his counter, popping it off and ignoring the small spilling of carbon fizz as he leaned back against the sink and took a swig.

     “I’m here to bring you back to Ptolemy.” Setsuna’s voice was as bland as Neil remembered, and his lips quirked in a sardonic half smirk against his will at the nostalgia, even as memories flashed behind his eyes of things that ripped the wounds of his mind and heart fresh open. Memories of aubergine and crimson, cold and calculating overlaid with flashes of curious gaze and tentative touch.  

     “Ptolemy was destroyed.” Screams and explosions, decompression and alarms blaring...quiet, distressed words over a com... Things that still haunted his nightmares and that even alcohol couldn’t dull on the worst days.  “And even if it was rebuilt, I left her “crew” and I’m not going back.”  He let his inflection speak for the reference to Celestial Being. Setsuna hadn’t said it, and he may not be planning on going back, but damned if he would turn over a prior ally by lack of discretion.  Never knew who was listening.

     The gun may have already been on him, but the hardening of Setsuna’s gaze at his denial was more concerning, making Neil’s fingers twitch with desire for his own weapons concealed around the apartment.  He took another swig of beer both to appear nonchalant to the other, keep his own concern hidden. He almost froze as Setsuna reached for his pocket but slowly lowered the bottle as he only pulled a piece of paper from an inner pocket.  One handed, Setsuna flicked the folded paper open, and Neil’s eyes narrowed at the picture that was almost like looking in a mirror. He would have assumed that it was his own image, if not for the stats listed underneath.   “Is that a threat, Setsuna?” His voice had gone cold and he was tight as a bowstring, this was a ploy he thought Sumeragi would have better sense than to risk. He knew it had to come from her, Setsuna wasn’t devious enough for this, he’d rather have just shot him.

     “We need a pilot speced to the Dynames class. You are still alive and Sumeragi’s first choice since we have lost contact with Veda’s analyzing process. If you refuse, I have orders to retrieve your twin as he is the only other valid choice that won’t require alterations that take time we don’t have.  He is part of Katharon and will make a suitable replacement.”

     Neil’s gaze flickered from the paper to Setsuna a few times, judging his resolve and, sadly as expected, finding it solid.  He wasn’t bluffing. Neil had his suspicions about his twins extra curricular activities, but lacking the ties he’d had when with Celestial Being, and not wanting his current clients to ferret out any outside attempts to gather intel, lest it be used against him, he had only clung to the hope he was mistaken.  Silently cursing his impulsive estranged sibling, he pushed aside memories of quiet conversations about introducing him someday with “this is classified information” being hissed at him. He quickly failed to hold his stoicism under the memories and new information, all but snarling at the younger male as he cursed and hurled the half-empty bottle against the kitchen wall. Setsuna was holding his weapon two handed, stance steady, when he calmed down enough to turn his attention back to him. Neil scoffed at him, and threw open a cabinet, dragging out a bottle of unlabeled poitin alcohol. He gulped a few swallows of it straight out of the bottle, ripping it away just to gasp a breath and drag the back of his wrist across him mouth.

      His glare was hard as he stalked out of the kitchen, bottle still in hand, stalking straight past the shorter meister.  He didn’t even give the weapon following him a second glace as he slammed open his coat closet and dragged out a duffle bag, throwing a coat, belt-pouch with clips, a couple small ammo boxes, and a .357 torn out from under the coffee table into it, despite Setsuna spiting his code name again in warning. He merely took another swig of the alcohol and stuffed a shirt, pulled from its place hanging over a chair nearby, on top and shoved it all down into the bag. He dragged the strap diagonal over his chest, hauled his rifle bag out of the corner and up on his free shoulder, chugged the remainder of the poitin and slammed the bottle on to the side table as he turned the glare on Setsuna.

     “Put that shite away and take me to Sumeragi.  Your just the messenger boy and I wont let you near my brother, I’ll make her understand myself.”

      The trip back spaceside went without incident physically, though the memories of the last times he had been in space weighed heavily on his mind. Neil kept himself under tight control, all he needed was for Setsuna to decided he was psychologically unfit and make the call to go with his twin after an unfortunate accident.  He held himself together thru the trip to rendezvous and back to the ship.  He left Setsuna behind as he floated thru the halls toward the bridge.  He was met by Sumeragi before he got there, and he followed her without comment to a briefing room.  By the end of their “conversation” there was a minor crowd around the doorway, even Setsuna not willing to intervene despite the random sounds that could easily pass for a knock down drag out fight punctuated by screaming.  When the door finally slid open, and Neil staggered out (a feat considering zero-g weight), he was bleeding from several places and clutching a dislocated shoulder. Sumeragi was worse for wear but it was clear his re-acclimation to zero-g had put him at a sever disadvantage.  He was medicated and returned to his room.

      This, unfortunately, turned out to be a bad idea.  With his body and mind already stressed, he lapsed into the memories of the day they lost the Virtue and he had a minor mental breakdown resulting in the room being trashed.  He was found later by his mech’s Haro and eventually was coaxed out of the room due to re-acclimation training for an upcoming mission while they repaired the suite.  He has never fully readjusted to sleeping in the room, frequently suffering from extreme nightmares, insomnia, and other issues. He, just as often as actually sleeping in the room, was found passed out in a surplus storage room, that in the original Ptolemy had been designed for a certain computer system interface. However, with Veda out of reach, the rebuild design deemed the inclusion of the interface a waste of resources, and as such the space was allocated for extra storage.  

       Having been basically strong armed into rejoining the organization, Neil was much more subdued in his interaction with the crew. Instead of the warm big brother he had been, he was more prone to his mercenary personality being prominent. He secluded himself outside of missions and started to rival Sumeragi in drinking. It didn’t significantly affect his piloting abilities, but it made him distrustful and distant from the others where he used to be a binding front for the crew.  He was always having to be ordered into missions he would have easily done without any prompting before.  As such, when the infiltration mission for the A-Laws ball came up, it was a scene to get him to agree. He eventually relented to the logic that he was the best option for the mission despite his being out of practice.  And, under duress, found himself in a tux and schmoozing with the upper echelon of the government that wanted to keep their own law enforcement in power, as he searched for this elusive ESF leader.

[investmart007]

BOSTON | 5 years later, Boston Marathon survivors, responders move on

New Post has been published on https://goo.gl/wF6SX7

BOSTON | 5 years later, Boston Marathon survivors, responders move on

BOSTON| April 13, 2018 (AP)(STL.News) One was an attacker. One was a volunteer first responder. One lost her leg. Another lost his little boy. And a police officer very nearly lost his own life.

Half a decade ago, these five lives probably never would have intersected. Then bombs bloodied the finish line of the Boston Marathon, killing three spectators, wounding 260 others, and forever linking a villain to his victims and the heroes who rushed to help them.

The attacks of April 15, 2013, touched off a manhunt that mesmerized the world. Boston ordered its people to shelter in place. Red Sox and Bruins games were canceled as police in tactical gear and armored vehicles fanned out across the city. Five days later, one bomber was dead, another was in custody, and locals had united around a social media hashtag that gave voice to their grit and resilience: #Boston Strong.

Ahead of Sunday’s fifth anniversary, The Associated Press offers these snapshots:

DZHOKHAR TSARNAEV

THEN: College classmates knew him as “Jahar” — a goofy young man more interested in getting high than studying. But prosecutors say he and his older brother, Tamerlan, became radicalized after the family moved to the U.S. from Russia in 2002. Chilling video shows the brothers mingling with the crowds near the marathon finish, their backpacks concealing crude pressure-cooker bombs. Prosecutors said they wanted to retaliate against the U.S. for its actions in Muslim countries. Tamerlan was killed days later in a shootout with police; Dzhokhar was captured hiding in a boat.

NOW: Tsarnaev, 24, has been on federal death row since his 2015 conviction for deadly use of a weapon of mass destruction and other counts. He is being held at the supermax prison in Florence, Colorado, a lockup nicknamed the “Alcatraz of the Rockies.” Jurors approved death by lethal injection, but years — perhaps decades — of appeals await.

In his own words: “Stop killing our innocent people and we will stop,” he scribbled inside the boat before his capture .

REBEKAH GREGORY

THEN: Gregory was near the finish line with her 5-year-old son, Noah, and her boyfriend when bomb shrapnel shredded her left leg. She later wed the boyfriend in a fairytale ceremony featured on TLC’s “Say Yes to the Dress.” But in the emotional aftermath — after enduring dozens of operations in a desperate effort to keep what was left of her leg, she finally had it amputated below the knee to stop her chronic pain — the marriage ended.

NOW: Gregory not only survived, but thrived. She married her college sweetheart and moved to Houston, where the Astros put her on a baseball trading card. She had a daughter, Ryleigh, despite being told she probably couldn’t have any more children. She established the Rebekah’s Angels Foundation to help children with post-traumatic stress disorder. And she wrote a book , “Taking My Life Back.”

In her own words: “Normalcy goes out the window. You have to figure out how to piece your life back together. This has made me look at life from a whole different perspective. I wake up just grateful to be alive and to have one more moment with my husband and our beautiful children. You count your blessings or you count your problems.”

CARLOS ARREDONDO

THEN: Millions know him as the man in the cowboy hat who helped save the life of marathon spectator Jeff Bauman, the double amputee played by Jake Gyllenhaal in the 2017 movie “Stronger.” Arredondo had become an anti-war activist and suicide prevention advocate after one son was fatally shot by a sniper in Iraq and another killed himself, and he was at the finish line handing out American flags when the bombs went off. Instantly, Arredondo became a symbol of courage.

NOW: Arredondo continues to do whatever he can to help others. His volunteers with the Red Cross, and his Arredondo Family Foundation works to prevent military-related suicides and hand out Thanksgiving turkeys to veterans and their families. He’s now preparing to run his first Boston Marathon.

In his own words: “What many people don’t realize is that first responders also go through some of the same trauma as survivors. I’ve been dealing with some issues, but that doesn’t slow me down. It’s been an amazing journey.”

BILL RICHARD

THEN: Cheering the marathoners at the finish line was part family tradition, part rite of spring, so Richard; his wife, Denise; and their three children were all at the finish that fateful day. Eight-year-old Martin was standing next to one of the bombs; he died on the sidewalk. The bright-eyed little boy lives on in a widely circulated photo showed him holding a poster he’d created the year before with the message: “No more hurting people — peace.”

NOW: Richard and his wife astonished many by asking that Tsarnaev be spared the death penalty, if only so their family wouldn’t have to relive their ordeal through future appeals proceedings. In Martin’s memory, they’ve since set up a foundation and helped create a new park downtown where kids can play.

In his own words: “Good will always triumph. It’s really not even close.”

DIC DONOHUE

THEN: When police in suburban Watertown frantically radioed that they were exchanging fire with the suspected marathon bombers, officers from virtually every law enforcement agency imaginable responded. Donohue, a transit police cop, soon found himself in a firefight . A bullet likely fired by a fellow officer severed his femoral artery. Donohue’s heart stopped ; he had lost so much blood, it had almost nothing left to pump.

NOW: After being promoted to sergeant, Donohue retired from the Boston transit police, citing complications from his injuries. He and his wife since have welcomed a second son and are expecting their third around this year’s marathon on April 16, and Donohue has a new career as a public speaker and officer safety trainer.

In his own words: “I try not to dwell on the past. I’m in pain every single day but I don’t let it get the best of me. These days I’m making an impact on my community in a completely different way.”

___

By WILLIAM J. KOLE,  By Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC (Z.S)

___

[dispatchesfromafghanistan]

Post card from Kabul.

Dear All,                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Dec.21, 2017

   Happy and peaceful holidays and warm greetings from a frigid Kabul. AUAF will be closed Dec. 22 to Jan.15, and most of the international faculty and staff will be away during the break. For several reasons, my wife Tahmina and I are spending the holidays here on campus.. We have launched a new master's program in education and law-enforcement so there is much to do. The university continues to enforce what is called embassy level security measures. This  means 18 foot high blast walls all around campus, armed national and Nepalese Gorka guards all over the campus 24/7, sniper towers all around campus. scanners, searches, public announcement systems, alarms, K9s, biometrics, thick steel doors, multiple locks, frequent lock-downs and/or no movement, wearing your ID at all times, etc. The Kalashnikof is as familiar to us as the Starbuck coffee cup on a US campus. Access for outsiders is a complicated process. All expats must live on campus, and excepting emergencies, are not allowed to leave the campus and then, only in armored cars with armed guards; and if a woman, with escort cars behind. We must carry tracking devices when off campus. And we have been issued bullet-proof vests and helmets jus in case. We rehears for attacks and disasters. All our daily needs are taken care of on campus-dry- cleaning to vaccination. We live like virtual prisoners and we try to educate under siege. Needless to say some cannot deal with the stress and strain and quit, are evacuated, and/or are very difficult to deal with. I wonder how I look to others?!

    Life beyond the blast walls is indeed catastrophic. By all accounts, 2017 has been the worst year for the country since 2001. Here is why/how:

  According to UNAMA, in the first nine months of this year, 2640 Afghan civilians (mostly women and children), were killed and 5400 wounded. UNAMA called this catastrophic. 14 Americans, about ten thousand Afghan National Security Forces members have also been killed. And of course countless insurgents have been killed too.

  Land mines continue to kill and maim bout 100 Afghans per month.

  The armed opposition occupies about half the country. There is active fighting in 22 of the 34 provinces. Any place and anyone seems to be a target. NO place and no one is safe.

  The US bombing has been twice the number in 2016-there has been 3000 bombings so far. The US is using F16s, B52s , drones, helicpters etc. 24/7. And it has dropped more than  3000 bombs thus far this year  including ' the mother of all bombs'(an obscene name), last April.

  As I type this email, there is an assault under way on a National Directorate of Security office not far from here in Kabul. (That attack lasted 7 hours with casualties on both sides).

  With 80 incidents per day, the UN has declared the country at war. The opposition now has access to very sophisticated weapons indicating clear foreign intervention in the war.

  The US Institute for Peace and Economics declared Afghanistan as the second worst country after Iraq, in terms of terrorism.

  Reporters W/O borders ranked Afgh. as the third worst country for reporters, with 14 reporters killed in 2017.

  As a consequence of fighting, there are about one million internally displaced people mostly living in treacherous conditions.

There reportedly 10,000 Daesh/ISIL members all over the country. There are reports of unknown planes and helicopters ferrying armed insurgents around the country; many believe this to be an American project to move the fighting closer to Central Asia and eventually to Russia.

 The country produced its largest crop of drugs ever (9000 tons) this year.

Most people here believe that Taliban, Alqaida, Daesh, etc are American-Western-Israeli projects and that the war is managed by the US so to establish a foothold here, undermine Islam, exploit the area's resources, advance its hegemonic influence and  deter/undermine China, Russia, Iran and India. Very few, and those with vested interests, buy the 'counterterrorism' argument. And by coincidence, the war has been a god-sent humongous economic bonanza for the usual suspects.

 Fifty percent of the population lives in poverty.

Two-third of the girls are out of school (Human Rights Watch). Four million children have no access to school. Half the schools have no buildings. More than 1500 schools are closed due to war; and the armed opposition    controls hundreds of public schools in the country. The education system is substandard, irrelevant, dysfunctional and an academic-intellectual wasteland.

Afghanistan is the fourth worst place in the world for girls. Violence against women is on the increase.

There have been widespread  anti-American /Israeli demonstrations in the aftermath of the Trump declaration on Jerusalem; and Pres Ghani partook in the OIC conference on this in InIstanboul.

Following Pres Trump’s ‘New Srategy’ the US/NATO war and occupation have been escalated and intensified with some 18000 troops and special  forces in the country. US troops are now actively involved in combat and air operations including night raids. So their role is more than ’advise, assist and support’.

There has been much talk about peace recently, but all we see is war and violence. 

The US is working on building huge permanent bases in Mazar and Kandahar.

President Trump's 'New' policies have simply led to more violence and war. Thoughtful observers believe that there is no military solution to this calamity; but only a political one.

Afghans paid $2.5 billion in bribes to the kleptocracy; the country continues to be gripped by all sorts of corruption.

The so-called National Unity Government ( J.Kerry's design) lacks any legitimacy and credibility, is in deep crises, and  is challenged from /by all sides. Washington's men pres. Ghani (and CEO Abdullah) 'technocrats' and 'fixer' of Failed Nations, are anything but.

E.Prince ( Secretary of Ed's brother) of Blackwater proposes to privatize the US occupation of Afgh. so  to access the country's minerals.

The International Criminal Court is to investigate war crimes committed by all sides.

Kabul, the capital still lacks regular electricity, drinking water, garbage collection, transport, a sewer system and/or an elected mayor. The pollution is so thick and bad that right now visibility is probably less than a kilometer.

The country's parliament has been operating for two years beyond its legally elected mandate, and it is unclear if/when the election will take place.

Massive crime and abductions are causing both massive human and capital flight. Investments are down 50%.

Afghan society is fragmented, polarized, divided, conflicted, gangsterised, vulgarized and criminalized.

The gap between a tiny corrupt, predatory, criminal clique and the vast majority is a million miles wide, and getting wider. A vicious and ugly social Darwinism prevails; anything goes, and it is really scary. People are angry, disillusioned, hopeless, helpless, cynical, and desperate. They openly blame the Americans and other foreigners for their misery. Those who can, are leaving the country by any means necessary.

    So, this is where we are after 16 years of war, death and destruction,  thousands of American lives,  countless Afghan lives, one trillion $, and the deformation of a society. We can only imagine the long-run invisible costs both to Afghanistan and the US. Sorry I hope I have not ruined your holiday but, the truth needs to be told, and this tragedy must not be forgotten.

Wishing you a safe, peaceful, and happy holiday.

Regards,

zw

[marjaystuff]

John Douglas Interview by Elise Cooper

Mindhunter by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker gives an insider’s view of FBI’s elite serial crime unit.  Douglas was the youngest agent not just as a lecturer at Quantico, but also at FBI Headquarters.  His resume is impressive having spent four years in the military, holds numerous graduate degrees, was a member of the SWAT team, a hostage negotiator, and the FBI’s criminal profiler pioneer.

With the bestselling book and now a Netflix original series, people are taken behind the scenes of some of the most gruesome and challenging cases.  FBI profilers gather up crime scene evidence to help predict the type of personality who commits serial murders.  Through interviews with some of the most ghastly killers such as Charles Manson, Edmund Kemper, and the Son of Sam, to mention a few, Douglas determines their motives, attempting to figure out why they did what they did and why in such a particular manner.  

The following is an interview with one of the FBI’s most legendary Agents:

Elise Cooper:  You speak of the why + how = who?

John Douglas:  I wanted to interview these serial killers because I found the best indicator of future violence is past violence.  To understand the ‘artist’ you must study the ‘art.’  I decided to go directly to the source to form an understanding.  

EC:  You spoke on how a good profiler should also walk in the shoes of victims.  Do you feel as Michael Connelly wrote, “I speak for the victims, for those who can no longer speak?”

JD:  I got very close with some of the families.  My goal with the interviews is to give families closure and help law enforcement solve crimes. We must remember the victims, but unfortunately we do forget those ‘surviving victims.’  They suffer from losing a loved one forever and ever.  We have seen these people break down, suffer from an illness, or get a divorce.  I also broke down from the work I was doing, walking in the shoes of the antagonists to better understand them.  But we also must reconstruct what the victims went through and why they took certain actions.

EC:  You discuss in the book how you had PTSD and because you were so worn down you contracted viral encephalitis, a fever, which doctors said ‘fried his brain,’ and that if you did recover you would likely be left in a vegetative stage?

JD:  Success meant more work, which meant more stress and learning how to cope.  I was gone one-third of the year, traveling and talking to surviving victims and the killers.  I would run myself to exhaustion.  I had PTSD; psychologically it took its toll.  A lot of people in my unit got ill and died early. We felt pulled in all different directions:  personal family, FBI family, local law enforcement, the community, and victim’s families.

EC:  You had a powerful quote in the book, ‘I’m afraid too many of us in the Bureau, in the military, and in the Foreign Service give too little thought to the incredible burdens on the spouse left behind.’

JD:  It does take a toll on the family.  When I would come home I would need to decompress.  Hearing about my family’s day, like one of my children scraping a knee, seemed so trivial to everything I had done. I needed to decompress before I could react.  

EC:  You describe serial killers as controlling, manipulative, dominating, and egocentric?

JD:  They like to relive the excitement and stimulation of the kill. They mentally reassert domination and control.  They picked vulnerable victims, such as runaways, street people, prostitutes, and drug addicts.  We examined why did they pick a certain victim over another.  For example, if they walked into a bar they could pick out those with a broken wing.  Usually the victim has a certain posture or look.  

EC:  What makes a good profiler?

JD:  You need to be able to re-create the crime scene in your head.  You need to know as much as you can about the victim so you can imagine how they might have reacted, and put yourself in her place.  You have to be able to feel her fear as he approaches, or her pain as she is being raped, beaten, or cut.  You have to try to imagine what she was going through when she was tortured.

EC:  What are the traits of a serial killer and can you define the term?

JD:  Bed-wetting beyond a normal age, cruelty to small animals, and fire starting.  The FBI now categorizes them if there were two or more kills.  In the Netflix series we say three or more because that was the 80’s definition.  

EC:  But you also interviewed people who did not fit into that description like Sirhan-Sirhan, the killer of Robert Kennedy?

JD:  If I were in a prison I would not pass up anyone including a skyjacker, kidnapper, extortionist, serial rapist, arsonist, or a bomber.  I worked over 5000 cases.  I also interviewed James Earl Ray, the Martin Luther King murderer.  Perhaps we can see some of the other interviews if there is a season 2 or in the next book, Unmasking Evil.  

EC:  Did you ever profile a mass killer?

JD:  While I was in Scotland I was asked about a mass murderer of an elementary school where dozens of children were killed.  I thought the person targeted the school because they had some personal connection, and a middle age guy. The profile helped them find him. But someone like the Las Vegas killer is difficult to profile.  We look for warning signs and should educate the public to be aware of any comments and strange actions.

EC:  Do you think it is an environmental influence, genetic, or both?

JD:  From my experience with violent offenders I really can’t think of one where I found that they came from a loving and nurturing environment. I don’t believe there is a violent gene in ones genetic makeup. Certainly you find such things as addictive behavioral patterns running through a family’s genetic pool system but IMO it’s nurture and not nature that is the major contributor to violent crime.

Experienced school teachers have told me that they can predict which child will grow up to be a violent offender one day. How do they know that? Because the children identified by them all come from dysfunctional families and they witness the child acting out at a very early age such as crimes of bullying, animal cruelty, destruction of property, and other antisocial acts. Having said that I will add that a dysfunctional family does not mean that every child is doomed. There are always survivors.

EC:  This concludes the first part of our interview.  Is there anything you would like to add?

JD:  What bugs me is my former colleagues who say things to the press, possibly jeopardizing the investigation.  Many of these killers follow the press.  For example, someone once said about the DC Sniper that he thought he was G-d.  The next day a little girl was shot in the stomach and a search of the area found a tarot card.  Written on it, ‘I am G-d.’  Also, many of the self-anointed experts do not even have the training and are just talking heads.  

Thank you.  For Douglas’ comments on specific killers and the realism of the Netflix show see part II of the interview.

[zydrateacademy]

Review - Ghost Recon: Wildlands

I have something of a mixed relationship with GRW. I hated damn near every second of the open beta they hosted. The vehicle controls are some of the worst parts of the game and sadly they comprise of a large portion of the game. Adding to that, the textures came and went as they damn well pleased, turning my roads into a muddy, blocky and clipping mess while the game itself stuttered with extremely low levels of frames per second. Thankfully the graphical issues were fixed (with some tweaking on the full release, apparently I cannot go above medium textures without stressing my computer out, but high on everything), some other things... really weren’t. Don’t get me wrong, this game has plenty of merit that are simply flanked by the occasional irritation and I’ll get into them both.

We begin as “Nomad”, the code name for a fully customizeable character, male or female (Ubisoft finally got the hang of that, aye?) in a helicopter on our way to a heavily fictionalized (downright alternate universe, really) version of Bolivia. We’re sent to figure out who tortured some U.S. agents but that quickly becomes a mere framing device for your employment as the game itself doesn’t seem too concerned with its own story and more about just destabilizing a cartel. You find the people responsible in the first area of the game and I guess you’re just ordered to remain to take down the local Santa Blanca drug cartel, and the game just lets you loose from there.

I’ll give the game credit here; nothing in their big open world is closed to you. Despite the alleged “difficulty” marks you see on the map, you can immediately hightail across the map whenever you please. With some friends joining me, I asked what the best sniper scope available was and they took me to it and we had some fun times against a very high level Unidad (the very corrupt law enforcement/government, I’m not sure which) fortress. I’ll talk more about the multiplayer aspect later but it just proved that the game doesn’t mind you going anywhere you want at all. However you will very likely need to exceed at stealth tactics because you will be facing opponents that will shake off your attacks without having all your toys available. While the game is a very sandy sandbox, it fails to understand why some superior games in the genre get so popular. While the game has plenty of convoy missions, diversions and side missions for you to get distracted by and earn that sweet loot and experience, it has an extreme lack of things to do in transit. I’m reminded of a space game where it had a large expansive universe but I’d sometimes be staring at the ass of my ship for a few minutes while warp speeding my way towards the objective. GRW feels the same way in some cases. It showers you with helicopters for the most part but there’s not always one readily available until you level up some Rebel support enough so large portions of the game are spent driving across the country with not a damn thing to do. You’ll occasionally run into an enemy controlled township (as they ‘hoid’ the country, this does make sense) that you can start sniping at but if you have a specific objective in mind there’s not really a point. This problem only gets worse if you got all of the collectible weapon parts (or at least, the ones you care about since it tells you what they are on the map) and skill points. It all just feels so empty at times. In case you’re wondering what kind of game this is, it is a third person RPG. The RPG system is superficial but sometimes useful. I find myself focusing on my personal weapon skills as well as my drone, the two most used things.

That “epic skill” there will give me 30% accuracy at long range which is incredibly useful. While the drone tree gives me battery, range, and a whole host of upgrades like an EMP blast, noisemakers and more. The drone is probably my favorite gimmick in this game, acting as a logical upgrade to the simply binoculars you get in Far Cry games. While every enemy group will give you this vague red blob that tells you the general vicinity an enemy might be, the drone allows you pinpoint their exact location so you can plan your attacks properly.

It sounds easy enough but there’s a lot of interiors that enemies can be hiding in which can be hard to find, and it’ll ruin your plan of attack if there’s one little asshole you can’t quite find. If I sound happy about some of this, it’s because the stealth and gunplay are where this game really shines. At your disposal you have three NPCs that will follow you around (they all disappear if as much as one person joins your game but that’s okay, because people tend to be smarter than the NPCs anyway) that are mercifully invisible to enemies in general. Their AI makes them ‘try’ to take logical cover but it doesn’t always work as they practically hug enemies from nearby bushes. Or the one time I used them to sync shot three enemies... while all three of them were swimming in water behind me. That’s another mechanic I have thus far forgot to mention (there’s a lot to unpack here), sync shot. It reminds me of Splinter Cell’s execution mechanic but it’s more for team play than slow-mo multiple murder that Sam Fisher is capable of. It starts out with only one slot but you eventually upgrade it for your entire team. The mechanics of it is a bit wonky as I mentioned my three swimming idiots in the last paragraph but it does have it’s uses. They can apparently shoot through most obstacles even though, once you mark enemies they need a few seconds to ‘find a shot’, but one of my lemmings found a shot while hugging a rocky hill. Still, they’re always stealthy and silent and very useful for helping me thin out the herd of a particularly harrowing stronghold. The only issue I run into is enemies will quickly find bodies that way but like most stealth games, they’ll return to their duties in a minute or so of searching.

There’s a sort of subtle ‘bonus sneak damage’ type stat in the background. I notice most enemies only take one hit to take down (even heavily armored mates as long as it’s a headshot), but if they’re alerted then they take a few more hits. I’m not sure how that works on a realistic standpoint but this game is a better middleground between Call of Duty and The Division when it comes to ballistics. When things go wrong, the gunplay is solid enough. So far no encounter felt particularly impossible, just with a spike of difficulty if I manage to foolishly miss a vital sniper shot against an enemy sniper, who always wield binoculars for themselves atop their towers and will see your ass if you’re flailing around in the open. Guns themselves have a whole array of mods you can collect and change but quite frankly, I don’t even really know what “weapon handling” even means. I usually sacrifice it if I can get some more accuracy or range, while rate of fire and penetration are less relevant to me. Many other reviews have likely already talked about how playing with friends is damn near a requirement, but I found it to be a mixed blessing. Human players are clearly leagues more intelligent than the AI but they lack the mechanical invisibility your NPC mates do and typically have their own goals in mind. The gentlemen who joined me had the decency to allow me to aim our directions towards what I needed (one of them had passed the maximum level and was mostly in it for tier experience, I’m not sure what all that is yet) but it still led to highly varied encounters that ranged from both hilarious to incredibly annoying. One time, a guy didn’t like where he placed his mine but they can’t be picked up so on a hunch I shot at it... with another teammate standing right next to it downing him immediately and netting a rather harsh “I hate team kills”. Y’know, despite the fact that I had been very new to the game to begin with, acting like I did it on purpose. Another time we were stalking some kind of enemy VIP in a convoy. We got to him, pulled him out of the enemy vehicle and started the interrogation and an enemy... apparently still alive and driving, decided to back into them both and we failed the mission because the subject died. We all laughed about it and didn’t mind at all. Another time we were trying to capture a helicopter (the only vehicle I can drive even vaguely well, and not even in battle) but instead of pressing Z for the drone to scan a couple enemies we didn’t find yet, I somehow pressed G instead, throwing a grenade right on top of the helicopter carrying those medical supplies I really wanted. Well, the rebels didn’t really want the ashes of supplies so it was an instant fail due to some really strange muscle memory on my part. It was hilarious, but my partner at the time has yet to let me forget it.

So playing with people is a mixed bag in its own right and I’m sure there’s plenty of fun to be had and stories to be made like my three examples above. However, it can be played solo so you can have very clean sync shots and three invisible allies that follow you around, not doing much unless you tell them to. So you can choose between having three mindless AI’s... or one to three people who very much have minds of their own and have no control over. Live or die, make your choice. One brief nitpick and a moderate complaint before I summarize. Firstly, I find my girl’s voice acting abysmal most of the time. Sometimes it’s find, like when spotting targets she’ll pipe up with some “ten hostiles”. Other times when finishing missions she’ll say something like “I love my job”, but with the same inflection I’d have just waking up and saying “I love this cereal”. That is to say, completely monotone because my vocal chords haven’t been used for several hours. Or another time where she felt the need to call out the fact that she was... getting on a damn motorbike. Madame, that did not require a tactical announcement. Just why? Secondly, and you’ll probably find this in every other review of this game but I do feel the need to mention it in my own. The vehicle controls are some of the worst, reminding me that of Watch_Dogs. It makes sense, same developers and all. Now, I know some people who didn’t mind the driving in W_D but it made the first game unbeatable (and I’ve only played an hour of the second) for me. There’s plenty of dedicated chase missions and convoys to assault so trying to chase those fuckers in some random cargo truck I picked up because it was the only thing available in the parking lot when my enemy started hauling ass. To wit, the enemy AI seems to function under much different rules than we do. When I get in a helicopter it takes a solid several seconds for the engine and rotaries to rev up to flight. However I cannot count how many helicopter capture missions I have failed because the pilot gets in at the slightest provocation (they don’t wait for open combat, as soon as the alert level goes yellow they’re gone) they hop in, shut the door, and immediately go straight up and pilots are damn hard to shoot out of planes in this game. To be fair, it’s all probably bulletproof due to the narrative. Rebels, drug cartels and corrupt governments probably don’t want all their stuff that easily destroyed. Makes sense, but it’s damn annoying to face against.

Meanwhile, like W_D, a mere rock or fence can send my pickup truck flailing in the air like a damn cartoon which can completely derail a chase or mission. So the open beta was extremely lackluster for me and the game continues to be haunted by abysmal vehicle controlling. However those are temporary, minute-long annoyances that are flanked by great stealth and gunplay. Those moments where I infiltrated an entire Unidad compound, using three entire sets of sync shots (there’s a cooldown) and left with the objective without too much of a fuss. Those moments really shine and it’s what keeps me coming back. Say what you want about Ubisoft and their practices, but they have a pretty good formula for stealth so as long as their games remain fun, I’ll be a returning customer.

[auskultu]

DETROIT RIOTS REPORTED CURBED AFTER TANKS BATTLE DAY SNIPERS

Gene Roberts, The New York Times, 27 July 1967

DETROIT — Negro snipers waged a daylight guerrilla operation yesterday, but National Guard tanks and armored personnel carriers brought the situation under control last night. Guardsmen secured the West Side area of the city after raking roofs and the debris of burned-out buildings with .50-caliber machine guns.

"This city is totally under control except for a few isolated snipers," Lieut. Gen. John Throckmorton, commander of Federal forces here, said just before midnight. "It just takes time to rout them out, and we will rout them out."

Hospital Under Fire The police command post at Herman Kiefer Hospital came under fire during yesterday afternoon's outbreak of violence, and other snipers blasted away at firemen battling flames at Grand River Avenue and 14th Street.

Gov. Roger D. Branigin of Indiana ordered 1,000 National Guardsmen into South Bend an hour after a general curfew had been imposed Wednesday night. The curfew failed to curb bands of youthful Negroes roaming on the West Side throwing rocks and firebombs.

At least two National Guardsmen were wounded in the fighting in Detroit. Tanks clattered through the streets again and again, stopping only to exchange fire with the snipers. By last night hundreds of National Guardsmen had taken up positions in storefronts along 12th Street, the central business district in the one-square-mile West Side area that was embattled by snipers. Armed helicopters swooped low over buildings in attempts to frighten away would-be snipers.

Incidents Diminish Shortly after darkness fell, the police said the situation had cooled considerably. Between 9:30 and 10 P.M., they reported 45 "incidents" compared with 71 during the corresponding period Tuesday night. Yesterday afternoon's fighting broke out as the city's death toll in four days of Negro riots climbed to 36, 7 white and 29 Negro. This meant that the total exceeded the deaths in the Watts riot in Los Angeles in 1965 by one and, thus, was the bloodiest in the wave of summertime Negro violence that began in the nation's urban areas three years ago.

The riot had already become the costliest in the nation's history, with property damage estimated by fire officials to be in excess of $200-million, compared with the $40- to $50-million in Watts.

Arrests stood at 2,665, fires at 1,163 and injuries at more than 1,000. Police spokesmen said the pattern of sniper fire yesterday indicated that Negroes might be organized in guerrilla bands of "five or six people.” However, Cyrus H. Vance, President Johnson's personal representative to the city, said earlier that troop commanders had examined the question of organization and had concluded that the riot "is not highly organized." Mr. Vance estimated—on the basis of intelligence from the military—that fewer than 100 snipers were involved in the shooting outbreaks, but emphasized that this was only an estimate.

The snipers, he said, appeared to be using .22- and .30-caliber bullets of a sort that could be purchased readily from sporting good shops. He called the riot a "cyclical" affair and said the looting and burning phase appeared to have passed, leaving the city in a "sniper phase" that could continue for another 24 hours.

The eastern half of the city which is being patrolled by 4,700 paratroopers ordered here three days ago by President Johnson, was described as "under control" by Mr. Vance. But the west side of the city patrolled by National Guardsmen and policemen, has been the scene of continuing trouble.

Detroit policemen have asked military commanders why the paratroopers had been kept on the relatively quiet East Side' while the bulk of the fighting is being done by tired and less well-trained guardsmen on the West Side.

Troop Disposition After three or four days without rest, the 6,700 West Side National Guardsmen, who are overwhelmingly white, could make the kind of mistakes that could create difficult problems, one Mayor's aide said. But he also said that the placement of the Federal troops by the military was not a major sore point with the police at this time.

When the paratroopers moved into the city, the East Side was. a major trouble spot and rioters there were out of control. But after the Federal troops took up their positions, the major action switched back over to the other side of the city. Only Tuesday night, the same square mile area that tanks entered today was swept by sniper fire and bullets from National Guard machine guns.

One of the city's oldest Negro ghettos, it contains severe pockets of poverty and has the city's highest crime rate. Prostitutes and confidence men operate openly around 12th Street, which is packed with small bars and after-hours speakeasies.

In recent years, however, it has been the scene of concentrated efforts by Federal and city antipoverty agencies. Homeowners' organizations, block clubs and settlement houses have sprung up in the neighborhood. There are also well kept middle-class homes in the area, which is bounded by West Grand Boulevard to the south, Clairmount to the north, Woodrow Wilson to the east and Dexter to the west. Twelfth Street runs through the area. The General Motors Corporation headquarters and Saks Fifth Avenue lie less than a mile away.

Gunfire rang out in the area for hours last night and early Tuesday morning, spilling over into outlying sections. One Negro family sat in their living room in the darkness Tuesday night as a gun battle raged outside. An adult struck a match to light a cigarette and a bullet smashed through the living room window, fatally wounded Tonia Blanding, who was 4 years old.

Less than a mile away, Mrs. Helen M. Hall, a white mother of three, watched a gun battle from a fourth floor window of the Harlan House Motel near General Motors headquarters and Saks Fifth Avenue. Three bullets shattered the window, and Mrs. Hall fell dead.

Over on Woodward Avenue, the city's main north-south artery, cruising policemen reported hearing gunfire In the vicinity of the Algiers Motel and opened fire on the building. More than an hour later another squad of policemen entered the building for a security check and found three dead Negro men, but no guns.

Snipers have killed at least four persons including a fireman, the police said, and National Guardsmen have slain one white and four Negro snipers.

Doubt In Fatalities A policeman was killed while trying to arrest looters and at least 15 looters—two of them white--died from wounds inflicted by the police, guardsmen, private guards or store owners. Three persons died In fires. Seven others died from what the police referred to as "miscellaneous" gunshot wounds.

The police use the term in cases in which there is doubt as to the source of the shot and the circumstances of the shooting. Several bodies were found in yards, alleys and streets and the police saw little chance of determining who did the shooting or why.

Weary National Guardsmen were edgy on the city's West Side, and unexplained noise sometimes prompted them to fire short machine-gun burst into the sky. They were rigidly enforcing a 9 o'clock curfew when one Negro, a city employee, tried to drive to his home. He was ordered onto the street while his car was searched. The guardsmen found four cases of beer in the trunk threw them on the ground and smashed the cans with their combat boots.

After showing guardsmen a receipt for the beer, he was allowed to put it back in the car and drive away. Some of the guardsmen said the man was lucky he was not shot.

"When this martial law came into effect they told us to shoot more or less and ask questions later," said one Guardsman, John Houma of Grand Rapids.

Actually, the city is not under martial law, but under a "state of emergency." This allows the police to enforce the curfew, prevent the assembly of five or more persons and ban the sale of gasoline and alcoholic beverages.

Meanwhile yesterday, the city's jails and detention centers were bulging with suspected rioters, ranging in age from 3 to more than 60. With ball ranging as high as $200,000 (for suspected snipers), only a few have been released on bond.

At the Wayne County Juvenile Home, for example, more than 1150 youths were crowded into accommodations designed for 160.

“In spite of all the pressure there has not been one boy released back to feed this riot," said Probate Judge James H. Lincoln, who Is setting ball ranging from S5,000 to 310,000 for each youth. "It has to be made very clear that where there is rioting, people are going to be locked up," Judge Lincoln said.

There was overcrowding, too, in the city's hospital.. The injuries included at least 50 policemen, 17 National Guardsmen and 29 firemen. Weariness was evident all over the city. Firemen were still battling fires, but not at the same rate as in the first three days. Some policemen and National Guardsmen could count the hours of sleep that they had had in the last fruit days 3n their fingers.

At 4 A.M. yesterday morning, some National Guardsmen took advantage of a lull and sprawled on sidewalks for a few minutes of rest. One wrapped himself from head to foot in a tarpaulin, which may have been dropped by fleeing looters.

"People keep coming up and asking if that's a corpse," another said of the canvas-draped figure. "I tell them he's dead alright—dead for sleep."

Many Detroiters were in need of food, as well as sleep. Gov. George Romney lashed out at "profiteers" yesterday, saying he had received "disturbing reports that merchants in the area of the violence and also the downtown area are charging excessive prices for necessities such as bread and milk, food and clothing."

Milk, the Governor said, is selling for as much as $1 [$7.33 in 2017]  a quart. "I can't think of anything more reprehensible,” he went on. "I want to stress as strong as possible to these merchants and to all merchants to refrain from profiteering."

The Common Council of Detroit unanimously passed an ordinance in emergency session yesterday in an effort to stem food profiteering in riot-torn sections. The ordinance prohibits the sale of food at prices "greater than retail prices existing prior to the emergency." The council acted following a report from the office of Mayor Jerome P. Cavanagh.

In addition the Federal Small Business Administration was considering whether to declare Detroit a disaster area, qualifying store and homeowners for long-term, low-interest loans.

In widely scattered areas of the city, whites and Negroes alike are complaining of food shortages, especially fresh eggs, bread and milk. In some Instances delivery-men do not want to risk the possibility of sniper attacks. In others there are no neighborhood stores left. Food, clothing and appliance stores were a favorite target of looters and firebombers, but the damage also extended to upholstery concerns, florist and barber shops, factory distribution outlets, service stations, at least one bank and several neighborhood office buildings.

The office of United Slates Representative John Conyers Jr., a Negro Democrat who is an outspoken advocate of civil rights causes, was ransacked. He and other Negro leaders In the city have pleaded repeatedly for peace, but have met with little success. Neither has Mayor Cavanagh, who has been popping in and out of the riot areas since Sunday, shaking hands with Negroes and trying to marshal a community effort to put the riot down.

[gykaqopok]

Generator Unturned

Reasonably early gain access to product reviews feature our preliminary verdicts on in-creation health premiums. But, different from bohemia's health hack, you may not commit 50 percent of your time and energy going having the backwoods, only to discover a rotten blueberry. Teaming track of associates to fight the hordes and will make bases irrefutably increases the endure, however via internet hackers have, predictably, focused scores of machines. |The runaway results out of your health hack signifies sexton won' uncertainty be updating it commonly. If "andy" researched the game in excess level he'd have renowned that alternatively of coming up with an evaluation that may be factually inappropriate. The dev will generate the vapor networking patch every single day at this time , he posted it in media accounts portion in vapor. items which will permit holding, utilisation of an hosting server variety along with awesome traits. On feb 5, in patch 3.14.1.3, he included a law enforcement officials chopper, a crook outfit, generating decay, and backside keys towards number one menu. “i’ll undergo these cycles wherein there is numerous equipment in my small but effective to-do variety and i’m like ‘i’m almost certainly going to stressful for a very long time, there is each one of these excellent elements to pay attention to,’ and it’ll meet up with and nearer to appearing bare and i’ll just think ‘maybe the game will generate before long!’ on the other hand there is always numerous new suggestions if only to incorporate and then the variety will receive remarkable ever again.” sexton produced Cheat Code Unturned on vapor when he was 16 years old. “just for the reason that nighttime i proficient each and every single weapon, included bond items and then the |accessories, with the surface texture out of your nighttime that version was dangling encompassing." in hearthstone town pleaded for 2 quite a few years prior blizzard subsequently acquiesced and offered them utilization of excess outdoor patio slot machine games. “some of “it's major to have a developer that's so close to to his area, which in my opinion that a great many enormous businesses that appear like they ought to understand what they're trying to do, could know much from nelson on how you can operate a area not to mention he is trying to do," he regions. You will get a sensation he reveals the exact same plans as his area. The town is continually talking over new transformations to health hack engage in, gossips, suggestions, and little bugs, and nelson always listens.” Cheat Code Unturned has become totally free-to-engage in. Helping to make impression. Is he aiming to in the long run cash in? Could be. |They invitation wiz khalifa to achieve battlefield definitely one and hire drake to condition attractive causes of fifa. He can't maintain the discussion board or reddit and seek advice from all people, wherein sometimes things are scaled effectively or dramatized a whole lot. Nelson sexton resides in calgary in conjunction with Sexton begun rendering Cheat Code Unturned when he was 16, so right through its creation he’s experienced classes, not too he in reality shared with any one there. played and built in convert. Your craving for food and desire relentlessly tick low, there are lots of product to scavenge, motors these are operating and pets to search, and you may put together forts and create. “i yet still lurk inside dayz subreddit so i really feel it had been a few days prior generate i witnessed a share about Cheat Code Unturned, and dean hallway, who achieved dayz, in reality posted over the internet. Like all people else at this point, he was energized by dayz heralded. There may be some disagreement it experienced turn just as an alternate roblox health hack, apocalypse escalating, creating a spat backward and in front games’ enthusiast, but sexton’s main objective was he couldn’t increase it with ease. this first version revealed deadzone’s matter of being not easy to put a thing utterly new, so he begun resulting in a second version in a month of january 2014, which ditched the browser, and produced it on vapor on this summer time 2014, put into practice by version 3, the present definitely one, a variety of few weeks after. |But on the other hand, for his information technology style he labored on the work he wasn’t willing in any respect to show. It appears to be he is not utterly more confident with that. They've established machines, clear away There are many more groupings which happen to be great hardcore. Greenlight, obvs. It will not do a good deal for you personally should it be not your aspect. Im imagining Cheat Code Unturned will fast insert steams 5 recommended played health premiums every one monday, chris livingston goes to an sooner gain access to health hack and accounts backside with tales about regardless of he discovers indoors. |My primarily small amount of It is do the trick it Even event holds no fear and anxiety personally now. the axe while using the logs, convert the logs into panels, convert it's into planks, convert the planks right into a basis. Rifle. Natural, i harvest my vegetation: a tomato, a potato, a carrot, a chunky cabbage. The total obstruct graphics aspect has shed its style. I’m alternatively appreciating them, and very long could possibly they maintain. |“bah, it’s moving on two enormous fads - surviving exploration making whatnots, and blocky health premiums.” nonetheless the health hack is honestly fascinating! I believe i'd more fun by means of it than dayz. Developing is definitely a displeasure inside butt nonetheless the surviving and exploration was extremely fascinating the primary small amount of occasions encompassing. After only my By way of example, £4 for a golden bill for the most part nets you aesthetic positives like excess skin as well as a “golden name”. It was only put into vapor a couple of days ago, nonetheless the alpha has become accessible to engage in elsewhere after october 2013. You won't deal with a good deal soil by themselves, lower all on dying, and then the zombie horde that cut you separately will often not despawn that means between these you and your loot is definitely an army of creeping and hiking undead that scent your circulatory system like some twisted humanoid classes of terrain sharks that may just. Contrary, really the only “blocky” situations dangling encompassing could be the personality products and… clouds. Is smart it is going to routinely keep some of the aesthetic types of its provider. In case you even from another location burrow surviving health premiums, you will have to produce a split. In search of any greater apocalypse than Cheat Code Unturned? Make an effort our much-loved surviving simulator credit cards. |So who’s participating Cheat Code Unturned? Adequately, as soon as hanging out dangling encompassing, precisely as it happens the answer is young people. I'm ready to unquestionably understand why a rebellious girl or boy would sneakily download and engage in Cheat Code Unturned, specifically if their families are significantly less thinking about health premiums which you could make heads transform into puddles of purple sauce. A really oblivion with weapons condition. make fascinating health premiums to achieve, i just simply can't withstand their dishonest practises. In the sun-drenched patch overlooking the city the child designed a modest prison mobile personally, including a lockable home and 3 two-way mirrors, that had been to become my new house. The motors handle like taters on lego bricks and therefore are oddly at risk from zombies pressing inside, but notably you will see motors to make use of, while dayz has not one. I am not i was able to by chance suggest it, nonetheless the inquisitive dilemma of Cheat Code Unturned is not this style of suspense, eventually. Oh, a long time? Even warcraft/starcrarft are simply just shamelessly taken health premiums workshop ips, eventually. Fed up of the game? Browse the workshop wherein there's a metric fuckton of mods that may put web log. |This makes the Developing method the refined and Cheat Code Unturned is definitely a child of dayz minecraft. It includes some items of rust model generating mechanics, and then the graphics are perfect when wear the highest amount of feature. With 2. I believed that Cheat Code Unturned would Scavenge regions, shoot zombies along with competitors, After you spawn into the world, you've minor probability of conquering the primary zombies you confront. |of dayz while using the talent types of roblox to make a special endure. Questing up method - eliminating zombies awards endure will increase surviving techniques. The solo-participant, on the other hand, can get through in their own individual rate inside one-participant mode. Looking on out of your extended distance, i witnessed an overabundance of idling zombies-hesitating for and checking toes. The appear to be is similar to two dimensional arcade health premiums the exact same satisfying impact clip has as you get in contact and means that you can look like your tool is penetrating. Chopping low trees and exploration feature xp. Once that you will make walls, enable beams, and ramps to form your structure. Instantly "left behind alt" is likely to speech chitchat. Past the flame axe and colt pistol you will see a magnum, mosen rifle, sniper rifles, and submachine weapons. |Arranging my extent i honed along with an distressing zombie and dragged the result in. required to pay for the 5 $ $ $ $ doesn't the same a pay for-to-triumph process, since the positives are separated.

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Cheat Payday 2

If, but yet, you depart the person with all the iq belonging to the toaster oven the cause of obtaining the bucks at the time you protect the hostages, you’ve arranged your a proven way admission to san quentin. At the same time could without doubt implement another around of bug fixes, |Hidden rooms? Consider. You have to balance your place outs amongst flexibility, utility, and These ai helpers It’s seriously bafflin played as intended with a variety of buddies, Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code is much like without doubt certainly one of its heists matters could possibly get somewhat careless, nonetheless the capability payoff may be very major. It’s thoroughly a co op offense sim definitely not a cops and thieves themed arena shooter, or perhaps a horde form equipped to provide a caper flick. For added information on which formed the first rendition so awesome, investigate our 2013 Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code analyze. Crawlers however personally are not able to contact ambitions for any sort, making different quests very nearly unplayable. Its a little more competitive lighting style help extremely up slightly when compared with long-standing ps3 and xbox 360 gaming system styles , but generally speaking, there’s almost nothing on this website to persuade me that sealing the framerate at 30 is a fundamental lose. |services snipers, as well as other goal certain support to aid you to mildew just the right caper. It did not labor at the outset. Try to avoid these clownshoes creators. I d hurry downstairs and begin showing the financial institution s consumers to mr cable tie up. So up at the top i slip on my cover up, sign up for my silenced pistol, and the whole thing would proceed to hell. But there is the occurrences in the places you ve bought absolutely nothing to negligence nonetheless the premium an untouchable civilian along the |When my squad knowning that i lastly played a clever, wonderful heist we accomplished it simply by using a absolutely nothing endurance insurance when it comes to these unforeseen simple bystanders we wiped out everyone surrounding the periphery who could stop being strapped cheaper. The environments you are defending have many different exits, flooring surfaces and entrances, where there is something about waiting around within the allocated entry ways, depending on Whether the web host will not boot you to ultimately be without position you ll rarely gain benefit from the interaction each and every single future offender clothes wants and needs. earned node surrounding the satellite graphic in a town. Its very easily unfortunate that the whole thing relevant skills and weaponry, masks and adjustments unlocks eventually, or much worse, arbitrarily. The fantasy that Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code carries has it been will help you to result in a portion of a clever, coordinated clothes of proficient intruders, competent to moving inner surface and external shopping centers unnoticed and effortlessly outfighting high quality swat squads. The force of considering and having matters peaceful, the excitement of asserting power when all hell pauses loose-fitting, as well as the contentment belonging to the very effective rank outshine any uninteresting patches, making Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code an very fulfilling method to get at the same time for all presence of offense. Other people demand you to ultimately be flexible type digital cameras and protection pads aren t really inside of very same setting, not to mention doorways, safes, and vacation patches may vary from quest to goal. A robber camera equipment may very well space you miles away. In the meantime, the cops come to you, and |And now you ll want individual squad everyone should you aspire to ensure success at any nonetheless the most elementary roles. of charts indicates that almost all competitors have a very smart idea the simplest way to continue and whenever to obtain it succesfully done, but with to be able to connect is still extremely important. Who recognized pill trafficking connected a lot working? Other relevant skills receptive wholly new the proper selections. Notebook computer computer or laptop and ps3 appear is probably the most generally revised styles, with all the xbox 360 gaming system to date to become much the same concentration. Farmville failures usually in the center of quests, consists of a unpleasant goal pick panel which Microtransactions are eliminating this original premium. That s originating from a professional with 2k gamehours and possess invested in all dlcs excpet the clover character load up as well as the alesso heist dlc. But the premium holds upwards of 30 other heists, no goal has out precisely the same way, resulting from randomised goal variables, that may seriously offer the premium quite a few replayability. We for me personally think it is most effective to get an chap surrounding the significant |They d to blow the first out of the liquid. In terms of paying off firearms, Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code has a great deal of choice, handguns, model guns, shotguns, attack rifles and My only hope was that i can have spent supplemental time in the open air taking advantage of sunlight rays, considering that position design of the outside environments are quite appealing to the eye whilst the confinements out of the inside locales are mundane and gloomy as they are banking institutions and pieces of jewelry retailers. Pay day 2 demands innovations from lots of different resources and blends them suitable truly a lot of fun, and in addition at instances, remarkably deeply premium about pulling off of varied crimes. This is considerable, mainly because Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code can be described as premium in which the very same quests are made to be practiced again and again comparable to tools like remaining 4 dead. Currently Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code effortlessly gets to be a horde form premium with surf of foes seeking to stop you from your aspiration. or perhaps a computer or laptop for being hacked prior to getting to then take quite a lot of sacks of money, golden, weaponry or no matter what you’re there to swipe and arrive at your vacation travel. The main reason powering this |Expectantly the creators will persistently give off dlc with new quests to help with this particular, but we will likely need to see what daily schedule they ve scheduled for undertaking that. As an alternative to seeking the fit you desire internet, or maybe even website hosting you to ultimately it, you want to burrow throughout countless But unlike the pointless safehouse, a misdirected try for person houses which you can securely overlook, offense.the net can be described as required hoop you need to leap throughout without warning experiencing. I participate in the premium their jumbled top finish and occasional volume generator let me perform. Like with cod wouldn’t be the things it s in these days whilst not protecting independent ryan, payday wouldn’t be the things it s in these days whilst not michael mann’s world famous pattern surrounding the routes of la. arranged with a trio of competitors that do all of it for you personally, but that’s the type belonging to the several person co op premium the place where you’ll often become to buy teams ever since the bots are not quite likely to labor. The final result is that i am stressing ever since the measures, the gunplay, the graphics, the arduous cooperating, one of the best experience of gratification from questing up and perfecting the exact amount are nearly remarkable, even though they could have been placed directly into a more effective premium perform framework. As being individuals individual who i m, my job opportunity wound up having been to make sure no potential customers bought any crazy innovations about like a hero, getting in touch with the cops or no matter what. |They should have seen police force on pace dial, mainly because a few moments subsequent we are viewed on the wailing screech belonging to the siren. Typically, it The in the proximity of inevitability of inability is usually developed in to the premium, yet it is a pity, simply because it makes the stealthier areas of the a variety of capability foliage substantially less helpful. not really a method by any means except if you are prepared to reboot before you decide to understand it properly. The environments you are defending have many different exits, flooring surfaces and entrances, where there is something about waiting around within the allocated entry ways, depending on your allies to treat their section out of the attack, which will make encounters with all the a greater number of hard surf of law enforcement energy look and feel a little more nuanced and strategic than very likely they are simply genuinely. If you create a more than willing category of accomplices, you simply must take care of the goal pick panel. Maybe the devs should have thoroughly determined, and compelled you to pick from a limited pick of commitments every single time. Consider my not quiet plenty silencer inside of traditional bank rooftop? I m competent to easily afford a far greater an based the renovations menus, it just has not yet randomly unlocked to date. Hope achievement and macho capability fantasies would be a whopping a portion of well-accepted premium titles, and who wouldn t want to be robert de niro during the michael mann old classic? The sport was sadly left out by most, but yet with integrated added bonus article from control device and dlc charts, the game made available plenty to merit a follow up. |pick in advance of when group with buddies, many others, or bots to protect me personally versus the undertaking. Pay day 2 s situations create a top have a factor during the initial. creativeness. Some heists might well be accomplished sneakily for all larger sized pay out, you await long on this website we are at drills to try and do, the only person ai teammates are exactly excellent for consuming bullets and taking pictures some again, the cops ai formed them run into a place perhaps to search neglecting or gunned cheaper, and then you grind to have the considerably better objects. The brand new questing technique is much better simply because it supplies hard earned money an actual use, helps you pick the way you position, and helps you pick out what appliances you will get. But, the whole thing cross. I however reminisce fondly to the people nights of Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code. Re outset alone on ps4 (there s not a means to shift how well you re advancing amongst systems) and achieving a lot of fun with randoms fairly of sound lovers in offense sprang precisely what variety of this game is gated by grind into stark help. |Very low position amounts is usually equipped such as the qualified personnel in warm up, but make no problem, they post a little more that is much like the moist bandits than many others. The loot and progression system of Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code became a chaos if this type of at the outset emerged to the picture and it is merely be snarled over the years to aid programs are generally attached on. fantastic, but yet, you are only competent to equip an perk outdoor patio at the same time, significance you ll more than likely just want to develop two or three other decks and move at the same time as quests demand from customers it. There s quite a lot to own a lot of fun with and personalize in Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code, even though a lot of it takes a grind that wouldn’t be unnatural within a liberated to perform premium. factor split (sadly the worthless one out of the 2015 remake and not patrick “dirty dancing” swayze). It s shameful that the sort of elementary component is still remaining in this particular sorry case. Overkill spent three years bolting on fancier spoilers, light bulbs, and hubcaps when exactly what it important became a change from the jammed up transmitting. We d use aided by the again, it s not hard to lockpick that home. |experienced an effin bystander so that they can the bucks. These quests can also change from direct to the point traditional bank robberies to moving harmful drugs, despite the fact, it doesn t question just what set-up is, most seem to demand you to ultimately enter in a little something, and also to shift quite high market value appliances for all your vacation auto. relish a number of the high powered potential. This starting point develops when Payday 2 Dozer Bobblehead Code shines even though capture outs are an element of the heist fantasy, a brilliant offender will not really have to utilize it, smart?