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strawberrysunsets · 1 year

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The Empty World (Ch. 8)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant settles into their new world at Transigen's laboratory.

Warnings: Injury, swearing, mention of death, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: Sorry for disappearing for literally 4 months! But... here's a new chapter! 😬

P.S. I changed it so that the MC/Reader is going by the name 'Ray' while at Transigen (an old nickname, given to them by a friend) cause I was getting tired of using y/n 👍

Chapter 8: Assignment

That night, you lay in the darkness without even trying to sleep. It was futile, for whenever you closed your eyes, you were inundated by all the images and sounds you tried to push away by day.

Gunfire.

Shouts; screams.

Logan’s voice, calling your name; telling you that if you’d only gotten there a little sooner…you might have all made it out together. One small, strange family; the only thing you’d ever wanted. Except that Caliban and Charles had already been gone by the time you reached North Dakota, and there was no bringing them back. Any of them.

You let out a sharp breath and rolled over in the darkness, curling your wings in around you as you stared out the window. The lights of Mexico City twinkled back at you; replacing the stars with a thousand points of neon and lighting the sky with a purple haze. You wondered if somewhere out there, any trains were passing by in the night. Living at Logan’s compound in New Mexico, you’d grown used to the sound of the freighter passing on the tracks, and shaking the whole building with its rumbling progress. It had grown comforting, in a way; making you feel as if you weren’t the only one alone in the darkness.

There was nothing, and no one, to keep you company now.

***

The light of day was an unwelcome intruder when it finally dragged you from sleep. Somewhere, an alarm was going off.

You stumbled around blearily to shut it off, knocking over a lamp with your wings in the process.

I have to dissipate these fucking wings, you thought with half a mind, before collapsing back onto the bed with a sigh. You couldn’t live like this forever, but the thought of engaging with your powers again – of drawing on the Ether – was too much for right now. Because it brought up all the memories of working with Caliban as you learned to control it, and those were the memories you were currently trying to push into the darkest corner of your mind.

But you had something else to focus on, for today; for you’d slept well into the afternoon, and had a meeting to get to. You showered and dressed, wincing with every movement that pulled at your still-healing shoulder and the burns along your calves, then set off in the direction of Ansley's office.

Some personnel were just leaving when you arrived, and you stood back to let them pass, shooting them cold glares as you did. You didn’t know who they were, but figured that anyone working for Transigen – save the nurses and aids, who seemed like decent people – were probably no good.

Can’t hurt to be hostile. It was your new motto.

“Come in,” Ansley called, as you turned to enter his office. “I trust you’re finding your way around alright?”

“Oh, perfectly,” you muttered, lowering yourself into one of the cushioned chairs facing his desk. “I’ve always wanted to live in a research lab that failed its ethics review.”

Ansley raised a brow, and finished typing something on his laptop before turning his full attention to you.

“Yes, well. Most personnel have accommodations outside the facility, but it seems like this arrangement might be better suited to your situation. For the time being, at least."

You shrugged a wing noncommittally.

“Now – we have a few things to discuss before the team briefing. Your contract, here; and these regulations pertaining to the facility.”

After a bout of paperwork during which you scratched your name – not your real name; just Ray, the old nickname you’d given them to use – onto more dotted lines than you cared to count – the terms and conditions for life, it seemed – you heard a pair of heavy footfalls approach the office’s door.

“Ansley,” a drawling voice greeted, as Pierce and another man entered the office. You stiffened at Pierce's arrival, and eyed him with all the trust one might reserve for a feral tiger with which they shared a cage. He sat in the chair across from you, and sighed as he motioned for the other man – someone dressed in dark combat gear; probably another Reaver – to close the door behind them.

Pierce was wearing a dark button-up shirt and fatigues of the kind you’d come to associate with him. His gaze met yours as he sat, and his eyes seemed serious beneath the shadowed fall of his hair.

“Pierce; Clark,” Ansley greeted. “Ray, you’ll have met Pierce,” Ansley introduced, nodding towards them. “Our Head of Security. And Andrew Clark; our Facility Security Coordinator. You’ll be working closely with them on most of your assignments. Particularly this first one.”

Your gaze flicked coldly between the two men, trying not to linger again on Pierce, and then moved back to Ansley. “And what exactly is my first assignment?”

Ansley nodded slightly, sighing through his nose as he leaned back in his chair. “Pierce, do you want to do the honours?”

Pierce’s gaze slid to you once more, and he tapped his metal fingers absentmindedly on his knee. The bruises you’d spotted on his neck yesterday were now concealed by the collar of his shirt, so for all intents and purposes he seemed back to his normal self.

“Recon and acquisition,” Pierce said. “We’ll be getting intel on some friendly neighbourhood competition, and taking back something of ours.”

Your gaze shifted from Pierce, back to Ansley.

“A few months ago,” Ansley continued, “one of our top researchers – Dr. Johan Hansfeld – was poached from our ranks.”

“The competition offered him bigger bucks,” Pierce cut in, for your benefit.

“Unfortunately, he took some important research with him when he left,” Ansley continued. “Which we’re looking to recover. He’s currently working with Zenith Labs, and we’re looking to remove him from their ranks, as well.”

You sat back, a cold feeling creeping over your skin.

“So you want me to steal something, and kill someone?”

Ansley waved a hand airily, though his expression darkened slightly. “You’re returning to us what is already ours. And we’ll simply be reminding Johan of the intellectual property he owes us, before he goes into a convenient retirement in the Bahamas. In any case – your purpose is not to question your assignments. It’s to carry them out.”

Your hackles rose, but you were saved from replying by a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Ansley called, as a woman with dark, curly hair entered the office, carrying a stack of laminated files.

“Ansley; good to see you,” she said, approaching to shake the hand he extended as he stood.

“Thank you for joining us,” Ansley said. “We’re glad to have you. Pierce; you’ve met Gloria,” he said. “And Ray, this is Gloria Fueyo; an accomplished journalist. She happens to share our interest in exposing the corruption at Zenith Labs, and has a briefing on their facility's layout for you and Pierce’s team to study. Your assignment will take place a week from today.”

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur, as you studied floor plans and tried not to think too much about what exactly it was that you’d gotten yourself into. Lack of sleep and the constant throbbing pain of your injuries muddled your thoughts, though, and doubt began to creep into the spaces between them. You were going to raid a laboratory, at night, and kidnap a scientist. There’d be security personnel guarding the lab, but Pierce would take them out for you, as he'd assured you. He was a mercenary – a trained killer – and you were working with him.

What would Charles, Logan, and Caliban think of me now? You thought, rubbing your temples. What would anyone?

You limped down to the cafeteria to get food when it grew dark outside Transigen’s windows, and then returned to the infirmary to have your wounds checked before heading back to your rooms. The antiseptic tang of the medical bay was nearly growing comforting, given your frequent visits, and you let a nurse – not Benjamin, and you’d been too tired to learn their name – work away at the dressings on your shoulder and calves without comment.

“You’ll be alright, if you try not to strain your shoulder,” the nurse told you, the lilt of her accent lending the words melody. “And try not to get the bandages wet.”

You took the pills she proffered, and gazed up at the fluorescent lights as you waited for them to kick in.

You could see yourself falling into a rhythm, here – in this soulless building, with its concrete walls and unquestioned orders. It would be a mind-numbing routine of waking, showering, carrying out assignments, and eating tasteless food. A routine which didn’t require thinking, or feeling. And perhaps it was better, that way. Perhaps that was the best way to get through this indentured servitude, to which you felt as if you'd sold your soul.

A line of hot liquid traced down your cheek, and you sat up as the tear trickled into your hair. Late as it was and exhausted as you were, you should probably get back to your rooms. Besides, you didn’t want the nurses and aids to see you cry.

***

The way back to your rooms felt longer than usual, and you got confused along the way, taking the elevator a floor above where you’d meant to get off. You sighed as you leaned against the hallway's nondescript grey wall, waiting for the elevator’s blinking light to return for you.

In the quiet, you couldn’t help but reach for your power.

It had been blocked to you since North Dakota, like a limb grown too numb to feel, but given the day's events, you were itching to regain even the slightest feeling of control over your situation. Harnessing the Ether again would mean being able to dissipate your wings – which would be an incredible relief, given the astounding inconveniences associated with them. Having feathers tickle your neck twenty-four hours a day did not particularly lend itself to mental stability.

You knew the effort was futile, but tried to concentrate anyways, ignoring the ding of the elevator as it arrived. You braced yourself against the wall, and dug for the Ether. For a moment, lights blossomed behind your closed eyelids, and a wave of heat washed over you. Then the power trickled from your grasp, like so much sand escaping through your fingers.

The cold shock hit you a moment later, as the effort of trying to push past the block took its toll. Tremors wracked your body, and you slid to the floor, feeling suddenly sick. A throbbing pain took up behind your temples.

From somewhere nearby, a door opened, and footfalls approached. Then someone was kneeling before you.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Pierce asked. He crouched before you, gaze sweeping over you in assessment. You worked to catch your breath, blinking to clear your vision of stars.

“I—I’m—” you began, taken aback by his sudden presence. And his proximity. He reached out a hand to steady you, a look akin to concern flashing across his face.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, dumbly.

He cocked his head with a frown. “You in the habit of collapsing in hallways?” He returned, ignoring your question.

“It’s a pastime,” you replied, using the wall for support and struggling to stand as the dizziness dissipated. He helped you up, threading a strong arm beneath yours to lift you as you regained your footing. “Well, seems like we should get you to the med-bay, in that case," he replied evenly. As if this was just another normal night of finding people collapsed in hallways.

You shook your head and breathed out a laugh. “I just came from the infirmary. I don’t feel like going back there tonight.”

Pierce stood still for a moment, his body pressed to yours where he supported you, eyes narrow and unreadable. Then he sighed. “Well, you wanna sit down for a minute?” He asked. “Seems like you’re on your last legs.”

You glanced up at him, uncomprehending, then made sense of the door which stood ajar a few paces down the hallway. Light streamed from it. That’s where he’d come from. An office? His rooms? You didn’t know. But getting all the way back to your rooms didn’t sound like much fun right now, and you were pricked with a vague sense of curiosity as to what lay beyond the door.

You sighed, letting your head droop in exhaustion for a moment. Then – “Sure,” you replied.

Pierce adjusted his grip beneath your arms, and helped you towards the door.

Quite the gentleman, if I didn’t know him better than that.

This close, he smelled of night air from the city outside, and a hint of musk that must belong to a cologne. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and you were reminded suddenly of the first time you'd met him. Deep in the forests of Maine; when you’d been prey, without knowing you were being hunted.

You shook the thought away, and focused on not falling on your face as you entered the room.

It was simple and functional, like yours – but larger, and with adjoining rooms leading from it on either side. This main room held chairs, and a table by the window, whose wooden surface was strewn with a number of items – papers, a jacket, a radio, a holster.

Pierce led you towards the nearest chair, and you fell into it, wincing as the movement ignited the pain in your temples once more.

"Water?" Pierce asked, disappearing into the next room and returning a moment later with a glass.

"Sure," you said belatedly, taking it from him.

You glanced up at him as he crossed to the chair opposite you and dropped into it, off-put by the strangeness of the situation.

This man was one of your greatest enemies. He was a large part of the reason your life was currently in shambles, and was indirectly responsible for the deaths of at least two of the people you loved. Yet he was offering you a glass of water.

Pierce appeared to be the picture of ease as he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. He raised a brow as he caught you watching him, and tilted his head knowingly.

“Do you live here?” You asked, to redirect his attention.

He eyed you evenly, face impassive. “Sometimes, if work goes late,” he replied.

You grunted, and placed your water on a nearby table to massage your temples. “So why’d you invite me in?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a very decent person,” he said mockingly, leaning forwards in his chair. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret. You’re no use to me dead.”

You eyed him, then tried to reposition yourself in your chair, uncomfortable with the angle at which your injured shoulder was resting. The better question was, why had you agreed to come in?

“You got shot, didn’t ya?” Pierce asked, his gaze following your movement. “Your shoulder.”

You nodded, then shot him a pointed glare, but his focus was on the bandages exposed by your sleeveless top. He rose to approach you. He raised a placating hand as he did, in the same motion he’d made the other day. No need to worry, it said. I mean no harm.

Knowing him, that was doubtful.

Pierce came to a halt beside your chair, and you caught your breath as he did a cursory examination of the bandages, fingers skimming your shoulder and back. You couldn’t help but shiver at his touch.

“You should ice this muscle, and this one,” Pierce said, motioning to two points behind your shoulder blade. “They tell you that?”

You shook your head, startled out of words by the contact.

“Yeah, well.” He said, hands falling away. “They ain’t been shot in the shoulder before.” He flashed you a grin, and was about to turn away when his gaze caught on the bandages on your legs. “What about these?” He asked, crouching to examine them.

“Burns,” you said, taken aback. “Second degree. Same as you, I’d guess.”

He raised his eyes to meet yours, and for a moment you knew the memory of the fire at the farmhouse was blazing bright in both your minds. Then he stood, and crossed the room to disappear into the adjoining one.

“Could be,” he called back, amidst the noise of items being riffled through. “Or maybe I got out without a scratch. That’d be good for publicity.” He returned, a pair of tensor ice packs held in each hand.

“I always keep some of these around. They’re a neat little trick; cut the hell out of the healing time.” He pulled his chair up beside yours.

He would know that, you guessed, given his line of work. He'd probably had his fair share of injuries, bravado aside.

Pierce unwound one of the ice packs, and leaned down to reach for one of your legs. Then he paused, glancing up at you. “This alright, sweetheart?”

You cleared your throat. To be honest, you didn’t mind his attention – which was its own brand of madness. There were layers of weirdness to being here with him that you weren’t ready to unpack yet, but you couldn’t help but enjoy having someone see you – consider you – beyond the impersonal examinations conducted by the doctors and nurses.

Pierce shot you a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I’m used to putting these things on other people, but I don’t mind trying."

“Uhh –” you said uncertainly. “Sure. If it’ll help.”

Pierce leaned down and lifted up one of your legs, resting it on his knee before beginning to wind the tensor pack atop the bandages covering it.

“You been into the city yet?” He asked, focused on the ice pack as his hands worked. His cybernetic arm seemed just as competent as his human one at the task, though its metal fingers were cold when they brushed your exposed skin.

“Not yet,” you replied. “Been a bit busy signing my life away to corporate.”

Pierce moved onto the next leg, his mussed hair falling into his eyes as he did. He brushed it away absentmindedly. You hadn’t noticed it before, but you saw now that he wasn’t in his usual work attire. He wore a black t-shirt, and his hair seemed rumpled, giving the impression that he was distinctly off-duty.

“Well, there are some nice spots. Damn hot in the summer; but the coast is real nice.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be getting out to do much sight seeing. I’m one step away from being a prisoner here–" you said, venom entering your voice “–but you know that.”

Pierce finished with your second leg, and let it return to the ground, sitting back in his chair. “You ain't a prisoner," he replied. "Not anymore. Now you're an employee," he grinned.

You snorted derisively.

"And you gotta steal the moments you can, sweetheart,” he said. “That’s all life is.”

Pierce stood, and motioned for you to do the same. “We should get this one on your shoulder. It’s looking pretty swollen.”

You stood, legs still slightly shaky. Pierce took your elbow to steady you, then shot you a half-smile as he unwound the last tensor. He leaned forward, and his chest pressed lightly to yours as he wound the ice pack around your torso. Once again, the heat of his proximity made you catch your breath.

God help me. You'd officially lost it. Or maybe you were just tired of being alone, and on the run, and only being touched when someone wanted to hurt you.

“I was trying to use my mutation,” you admitted suddenly, distracted by Pierce’s nearness. “In the hallway. That's why I ... that's why that happened. But I can't, right now. I don’t know why it did that to me.”

Pierce leaned away slightly, enough to look down at your face. He was so close that you could see the flecks of oceanic blue in his eyes, and the remnants of a scar marring the corner of one of his eyebrows.

“Huh,” he said, finishing securing the tensor and stepping back. “And you don’t think it might have something to do with the fact that you nearly died half a dozen different ways the last few weeks?”

Your gaze slid sideways, and you considered the possibility. Could the block in your power be just that? Exhaustion?

It was possible. Hell, considering everything your body had been through in the last month, it would be a miracle if your abilities were at full strength. But some part of you knew that the wound went even deeper than that. It stemmed from all the emotions – and the realities – that you were currently working hard to shut down, conceal, and ignore.

You shrugged noncommittally, and were about to move back to your chair when Pierce reached out and caught one of your hands. His hand was firm and callused, and lifted yours towards him as he examined the white striations which wound up your wrist like twining vines.

Lightning scars, from one of your first forays into the world of the Ether.

You pulled your arm away, breaking the contact. And you were about to take a step back, when a sudden mad idea rushed into your head.

Without stopping to think, you took a step forwards, closing the distance between you as you wound a hand around the back of Pierce's neck. Your fingers traced through his hair, and it felt as you'd imagined. Soft.

Pierce stilled, eyes locking with yours. For a moment, you stood close to one another, breathing each other in. Then, when he didn't pull away, you slowly closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

For a moment Pierce was still and rigid against you – surprised or disgusted, you couldn't tell – but then he responded to the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. His lips were hot against yours, and all thoughts fled from your mind as the kiss deepened.

His tongue parted your lips, tasting you. You found yourself wrapping your arm more firmly around his neck to bring your bodies more tightly against one another, and Pierce responded, one of his hands grasping your hip to anchor you to him while the other trailed up your back.

When he took your lip between his teeth and bit it, the pleasure in the twinge of pain made you gasp.

The moment stretched out, interminably long, as you lost yourself in the kiss.

Then you pulled away, breaking the embrace.

You didn't know what had brought you back to your senses, but you stood, breathing hard, as you stared at Donald Pierce. Your pulse was racing.

Pierce was breathing hard, too, and a bemused smile crept across his face as you watched.

“So, how long have you been waiting to do that?” He asked, dragging a thumb across his bottom lip. His eyes glinted with predatory amusement.

How long – you hadn't been waiting to do that, and now that you'd done it you could barely believe that you had.

"I – should be getting back to my rooms," you said, hiding your flushing cheeks by turning away and starting towards the door.

Pierce followed.

"Alright, sugar," he replied. "I'll take you. Third floor, isn't it?"

You glanced back at him, and let out a breath of exasperation. "Figures you know where I live. And I'll be fine to get there; it's not far."

You didn't know what you were feeling at that moment, and would rather be away from him while you untangled it all.

Pierce sighed. "Yeah, but you ain't in good shape, and I don't want all my hard work to go to waste," he said, nodding to your legs and shoulder.

He proffered you his arm.

"Besides, I don't mind."

You stood still for a moment, looking between him and his outstretched hand. Then you turned your gazed skywards, and sent out a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening.

Please let me not be out of my fucking mind for this.

You stepped forwards, and took his arm.

***

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#donald pierce x you #donald pierce x reader #donald pierce #x men fanfiction #fanfic #wolverine #logan movie

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us-laws-you-should-know · 5 months

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Marijuana Legality: The Quick(er) Version

A few days ago, I started writing a very long, very detailed post about marijuana legality state by state... and it got eaten by tumblr's drafts features.

This post is going to be the Cliff Notes version of that post.

First off, Wikipedia's Legality of cannabis by U.S. jurisdiction page is an excellent resource for this. It doesn't capture everything, but it captures a lot, and you can always go to linked pages for individual states and/or check the linked sources for more information.

The short(ish) version:

Under federal law, specifically the Controlled Substances Act, marijuana is a Schedule I drug and cannot be prescribed or possessed legally aside from a very tightly-controlled quota for scientific research purposes. This scheduling includes language stating that marijuana "has no currently accepted medical use" and "[t]here is a lack of accepted safety for use of the drug or other substance under medical supervision", which is... arguable.

There is a process for changing drugs, including marijuana, to a less restrictive schedule under the Controlled Substances Act or removing them as a controlled substance altogether. But that process hasn't happened for marijuana so far.

Technically, this supersedes state and local law on the subject; state law can be more restrictive than federal law, but not less restrictive, or else the whole idea of federal law governing the whole country is moot. Theoretically, that means that federal police could arrest anyone, anywhere, for marijuana possession under the Controlled Substances Act, regardless of what local authorities say on the matter.

Realistically, that's highly unlikely. Any case where someone gets arrested for marijuana in a state that says it's okay is practically asking for a Supreme Court case on the matter, and said Supreme Court ruling would inevitable be controversial and divisive, and right now everybody's content to just... pretend the federal law doesn't exist when the state says otherwise. Probably some years down the line such a Supreme Court case will indeed happen and cause a shift to the current murky and unstable status quo, but it's highly unlikely that said Supreme Court case will star you, random marijuana user. (And if it does, well, upside is there's bound to be a bunch of folks willing to represent you for free just to get in on the action!)

Also, the federal police are busy, and hey, if they don't have to worry about marijuana use in a large chunk of the country, that just gives them more time to go after other kinds of federal criminals.

So, if state law's what matters, what do the states say?

Again, I point you to the Wikipedia page outlining exactly this. (It's most of what I'm using for a resource here myself.)

Recreational use of marijuana is legal in 24 states (Alaska, Arizona, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Montana, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Ohio, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont, Virginia, and Washington state), three U.S. territories (Guam, Northern Mariana Islands, and U.S. Virgin Islands), and Washington D.C. Note that Ohio's measure here is newly passed and doesn't actually take effect until December 7, 2023, three days from now.

Commercial distribution is legal everywhere that recreational use is legal except Virginia and Washington D.C.

Personal cultivation for recreational use is legal everywhere that recreational use is legal except Delaware, Illinois, New Jersey, and Washington state.

Recreational use is decriminalized in Hawaii, Louisiana, New Hampshire, and North Dakota.

Medicinal use of marijuana is legal in 38 states (the recreational use ones, plus Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Kentucky, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Utah, and West Virginia), four U.S. territories (the recreational use ones plus Puerto Rico), and Washington D.C.

Medicinal use is decriminalized in Nebraska and North Carolina.

Iowa gets a special shout-out here for allowing medicinal marijuana, but not allowing any actual distributors of said medicinal marijuana in the state; medicinal marijuana patients need to go out-of-state to get their marijuana supplies, but those supplies remain legal upon bringing them back to Iowa.

Personal cultivation for medicinal use is legal everywhere that recreational cultivation is legal plus Illinois, Washington state, Hawaii, Oklahoma, and South Dakota.

Marijuana remains illegal for both medicinal and recreational use in ten states: Georgia (though several cities/counties in Georgia have decriminalized it), Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Wisconsin, and Wyoming, and also the territory of American Samoa. Everywhere but American Samoa has some exception for CBD oil, though, with limits on the percentage of THC present.

A number of Native American reservations have also legalized marijuana use, either recreational or medicinal.

Most of these laws have restrictions beyond just "it's legal". You might have to be 18 to purchase marijuana, or 19, or 21; there's generally a maximum amount you're allowed to possess, or grow, at one time; medicinal use might be restricted to specific symptoms or conditions outlined in the original law; details may vary about having it in a public place, or about the specific forms allowed.

Also, some laws specifically address potential effects of marijuana use within the state beyond simple criminality. Can marijuana use be considered in a child welfare case, and held against you as a parent? Can use of medicinal marijuana get you fired if you fail a drug test your employer gave you, or just because your employer doesn't like it? Does being fired for using marijuana count as being fired "for cause" for unemployment purposes? Can marijuana use disqualify you from accessing needed health care like organ transplants? Excellent questions! The answers will vary. Or they might not be specified in the original statute at all, which leaves it open for the courts to decide.

If you're going to purchase and/or consume marijuana, please, look up all the details of your local laws on the matter beforehand.

#marijuana laws #cannabis laws #cannabis legalization #marijuana #cannabis #pot #weed #us law #american law #united states law #drug law #substance law #controlled substances act #controlled substances

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ro-nikk · 2 months

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Movie

Film industry: ' Bounce Marley: One Love' Gets Together $7.4 Million on Friday, 'Madame Web' Falls Behind With $4.3 Million kingsley ben adir sway marley one love Central Pictures/Everett Assortment

Central's "Sway Marley: One Love" proceeded with its run as film industry pioneer through the particular six-day occasion outline, including $7.4 million Friday from 3,539 areas to knock its homegrown count to $25.3 million. The reggae legend's biopic could even surpass Sony's superhero film "Madame Web," which brought in $4.3 million from 4,013 theaters on Friday, after six days. North American take for the Wonder Comics variation presently remains at $12.5 million.

Both films opened on Valentine's Day and hope to continue their momentum through President's Day. On Wednesday, "One Love" established itself with an impressive $14 million, helped along by a few high-end large-format theaters (Madame Web has the majority, though). However the Reinaldo Marcus Green-coordinated show landed unremarkable surveys, it reverberated with early crowds, capturing an "A" grade from assessor Film Score. Principal caused a stir when it drop-kicked the film from an additional honors accommodating January date to the February occasion, yet the film appears to have tracked down an energetic crowd in its new right on the money the schedule. "One Love" conveys a $70 million creation spending plan and extra circulation and promoting costs. The projected six-day homegrown introduction north of $40 million, in addition to a significant worldwide total, is certainly not a terrible spot to "One Love." Given Marley's global appeal, the film is a play for international audiences. It should continue attracting crowds the next few weeks to not stress over a thing.

"One Love" stars Kingsley Ben-Adir as Bob Marley and Lashana Lynch as Rita Marley. The component tracks the performer's European and African visit, as well as the creation of his milestone collection "Mass migration."

"Madame Web" scored far more detestable surveys and some horrendous crowd scores (a "C+" through Film Score). Half a month prior, the independent comic book transformation had been projecting a six-day complete north of $30 million; presently, it'll probably complete nearer to $20 million. It's an unpropitious start up for an undertaking that was logical imagined and created as an establishment starter.

However Sony is a piece less shower with its superhuman financial plans than contenders at Disney and Warner Brothers., a $80 million creation financial plan and extra showcasing costs aren't precisely an unassuming speculation set-up for a secure return. Furthermore, memes that refer to Sony's less-than-stellar track record among superhero fans reinforce the rejection of "Madame Web," making it practically a separate online culture (see: Morbius, a vampire action film starring Jared Leto "Madame Web" might not be able to overcome the negative publicity.

Dakota Johnson stars in "Madame Web" as a that paramedic she has visionary capacities and starts to safeguard a threesome of young people from the wall-creeping executioner that killed her mom. Sydney Sweeney, Tahar Rahim, Isabela Merced, Celeste O'Connor, Emma Roberts, Adam Scott and Zosia Mamet ("Young ladies") likewise star. S.J. Clarkson coordinates.

"Argylle" will probably tumble to third place, extending a 32% fall in its third end of the week. The production produced by Apple Studios has proven to be the year's first well-known failure. The film, which has a big cast and cost the tech company more than $200 million, won't even make $40 million in the US in its first 17 days of release.

Even after its holiday debut, Universal's "Migration" is still challenging for third place. The Brightening creation ought to push to $116 million homegrown as the day progressed. Theaters will at last get another high-profile energized film for family crowds with "Kung Fu Panda 4" on Walk 8.

Understand Occasion's arrival of the religious television series "The Picked" could push "Wonka" out of the best five in its tenth few days of delivery. The Timothée Chalamet melodic keeps on being a reasonable attract an extremely peaceful commercial center, logical adding another $4 million or so through the four-day occasion outline. Homegrown count ought to before long hit $210 million, somewhat away from outperforming "Insect Man and the Wasp: Quantumania" ($214 million) to turn into the seventh-most noteworthy netting North American arrival of 2023.

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brookstonalmanac · 4 months

Text

Events 1.3 (before 1960)

69 – The Roman legions on the Rhine refuse to declare their allegiance to Galba, instead proclaiming their legate, Aulus Vitellius, as emperor. 250 – Emperor Decius orders everyone in the Roman Empire (except Jews) to make sacrifices to the Roman gods. 1521 – Pope Leo X excommunicates Martin Luther in the papal bull Decet Romanum Pontificem. 1653 – By the Coonan Cross Oath, the Eastern Church in India cuts itself off from colonial Portuguese tutelage. 1749 – Benning Wentworth issues the first of the New Hampshire Grants, leading to the establishment of Vermont. 1749 – The first issue of Berlingske, Denmark's oldest continually operating newspaper, is published. 1777 – American General George Washington defeats British General Lord Cornwallis at the Battle of Princeton. 1815 – Austria, the United Kingdom, and France form a secret defensive alliance against Prussia and Russia. 1833 – Captain James Onslow, in the Clio, reasserts British sovereignty over the Falkland Islands. 1848 – Joseph Jenkins Roberts is sworn in as the first president of Liberia. 1861 – American Civil War: Delaware votes not to secede from the United States. 1868 – Meiji Restoration in Japan: The Tokugawa shogunate is abolished; agents of Satsuma and Chōshū seize power. 1870 – Construction work begins on the Brooklyn Bridge in New York, United States. 1871 – In the Battle of Bapaume, an engagement in the Franco-Prussian War, General Louis Faidherbe's forces bring about a Prussian retreat. 1885 – Sino-French War: Beginning of the Battle of Núi Bop. 1911 – A magnitude 7.7 earthquake destroys the city of Almaty in Russian Turkestan. 1911 – A gun battle in the East End of London leaves two dead. It sparked a political row over the involvement of then-Home Secretary Winston Churchill. 1913 – An Atlantic coast storm sets the lowest confirmed barometric pressure reading for a non-tropical system in the continental United States. 1913 – First Balkan War: Greece completes its capture of the eastern Aegean island of Chios, as the last Ottoman forces on the island surrender. 1920 – Over 640 are killed after a magnitude 6.4 earthquake strikes the Mexican states Puebla and Veracruz. 1933 – Minnie D. Craig becomes the first woman elected as Speaker of the North Dakota House of Representatives, the first woman to hold a Speaker position anywhere in the United States. 1944 – World War II: US flying ace Major Greg "Pappy" Boyington is shot down in his Vought F4U Corsair by Captain Masajiro Kawato flying a Mitsubishi A6M Zero. 1946 – Popular Canadian American jockey George Woolf suffers a concussion during a freak racing accident; he dies from the injury the following day. The annual George Woolf Memorial Jockey Award is created to honor him. 1947 – Proceedings of the U.S. Congress are televised for the first time. 1949 – The Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas, the central bank of the Philippines, is established. 1953 – Frances P. Bolton and her son, Oliver from Ohio, become the first mother and son to serve simultaneously in the U.S. Congress. 1956 – A fire damages the top part of the Eiffel Tower. 1957 – The Hamilton Watch Company introduces the first electric watch. 1958 – The West Indies Federation is formed.[ 1959 – Alaska is admitted as the 49th U.S. state.

#Events

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tomorrowusa · 4 months

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youtube

A drunk-driving Republican North Dakota legislator abuses police with a xenophobic and homophobic rant.

Remember when the GOP used to be the "party of law and order"? ⌛️

'He's the product of hate': Outrage erupts as bodycam footage shows Republican Nico Rios hurling homophobic slurs during DUI arrest

WILLISTON, NORTH DAKOTA: A North Dakota state lawmaker who serves on a legislative committee overseeing law enforcement unleashed a shocking homophobic and racist tirade when a police officer arrested him for drunk driving last week. Republican Rep. Nico Rios of Williston faces charges of driving under the influence and refusing to submit to a chemical test after Williston police pulled him over on December 15 for failing to stay in his lane. Body camera footage released this week shows Rios hurling slurs and insults at the arresting officer in an expletive-laced rant during the traffic stop and subsequent booking, as reported by Daily Mail. [ ... ] The body cam footage captures Rios' shocking rant, which included repeated homophobic slurs aimed at officer Welch in his patrol car and the booking station at the jail. Rios also questioned Welch's English accent, ignorantly implying he was an immigrant terrorizing "brown people." "You come from f****** London f****** England to terrorize brown people, you b******," Rios drunkenly slurs. He goes on to accuse officer Welch of "selling his soul to globalism" and claims immigrants are "coming to your country and raping your women." He also threatened Welch, saying "You need to make a paycheck. You're ruining my life so you can make a paycheck you little b****." Rios further uses multiple homophobic slurs, calling the officer a "f*g," "pathetic and weak" and a "motherf******."

Rios has an interesting employment history.

The 30-year-old Rios, who was elected to his first term last year, has deep ties to the national Republican Party. Before moving to North Dakota, he worked in Sen. Ted Cruz's Washington DC office.

I wonder if Ted ever invited Nico to vacation with him in Cancún. 😛

Checking Rios's legislative site, he's remarkably unremarkable. Now that he's charged with a criminal offense, he's a candidate for Trump's cabinet if the latter succeeds in returning to the White House.

North Dakota seems to have 2-person legislative districts for its lower chamber. Rios is from the 23rd District; it borders the Missouri River on the south and southeast and Montana on the west.

If there are a lot of drunken and abusive homophobes in the 23rd, Rios is a cinch for re-election.

82 of the 94 members of the ND House are Republicans. If they don't toss Rios out of the caucus and demand his resignation then that would be in keeping with the national GOP's attitude regarding law and order.

#republicans #nico rios #drunk driving #law and order #abusing police officers #north dakota #lgbtq+#homophobia #xenophobia #ted “cancún” cruz

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deanorosphoto · 2 years

Photo

Above: Original Artwork THE SLEEPING GIANT. Now available.

AN ICONIC LANDMARK.

Photographed in high resolution, this original artwork of Thunder Bay’s Sleeping Giant was captured early dawn on a summer’s day.

Each custom piece of artwork of this photograph is created at time of order. Available in a variety of sizes as a gallery-wrapped giclee canvas and custom fine-art print.

Delivery options: Local pickup in Thunder Bay, courier and international courier.

Buy artwork of THE SLEEPING GIANT.

WHAT IS THE SLEEPING GIANT?

Nestled on the shores of northwestern Ontario’s Lake Superior, the Sleeping Giant is a series of mesas formed by the erosion of thick, basaltic sills on Sibley Peninsula, which resembles a giant lying on its back when viewed from the west to north-northwest section of Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada.

It is home to over 100km of incredible hiking trails with ample opportunity for camping, swimming, mountain biking, cross-country skiing and views worth the climb.

THE OJIBWE´ LEGEND.

Ojibwe´, also spelled Ojibwa or Ojibway, self-name Anishinaabe, are the Omàmìwininìmowin speaking (the Algonquin language) First Nations who live in the northwestern area of the Ontario Province (Canada) - from where the Sleeping Giant legend originates. Their population extends throughout the rest of Ontario and Manitoba into the American states of Minnesota and North Dakota.

The Ojibwe´ legend of this natural wonder tells the story of the Giant Nanabijou, the Spirit of the Deep Sea Water, who was turned to stone when the secret location of a rich silver mine, now known as Silver Islet, was disclosed to white fur traders... Europeans who had arrived on this part of the world.

There are variations of this legend. This is one of them.

Nanabijou rewarded the Ojibwe´ people for their peaceful way of living and loyalty with a silver-rich mine, now known as Silver Islet at the foot of the Giant. Nanabijou had the Ojibwe´ promise to keep the mine and its location secret, warning that if the mine was revealed to the white man the Ojibwe´ people would perish and Nanabijou himself would be turned to stone.

Using silver from the mine to make jewelry and ornaments, the Ojibwe´ garnered an envious reputation for their beauty. Their popularity eventually led to the discovery of the mine by a warrior of the neighbouring Sioux nation.

The Sioux warrior, during the journey back to his tribe, came into contact with white fur traders. Legend has it that these white men “cajoled him with food and drink” when they saw the silver. The Sioux warrior divulged the source and location of the silver, and the promise made to Nanabijou the Spirit of the Deep Sea Water, was forever broken. The white fur traders, enroute to the Silver Islet to take silver from the mine, drowned in a vicious storm that came out of nowhere. And where there once was a wide entrance to the mine now lies the stone figure of Nanabijou—the Sleeping Giant nestled in the waters of Lake Superior.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.

I wish to acknowledge the land where I live and work are the traditional lands of the Anishinabek Nation, the traditional territory of Fort William First Nation and the lands of the Robinson Superior Treaty of 1850.

See you again. Thanks for visiting.

Main website: deanorosphoto.com

#artforsale #artforsalebyartist #art #artforhome #thunderbay #seascapephotography #landscapephotography #sleepinggiant #sleepinggiantprovincialpark #ontario

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professional-termite · 7 months

Note

🖊️

alr last ask, lets choose a random one...

tyler brandon dakota. my baby. hes a supporting character but he is literally everything to me. hes trans, hes a vampire, hes a pyromaniac, hes autistic, hes socially awkward, hes gay, he wears silly purple goggles and he has curly hair, hes biracial, hes in love with his married gay best friend who happens to be a robot with memory loss.

tyler is a triplet. his siblings, north and south (yes their names are north and south dakota. no i will not elaborate on why) and himself were raised to be bloodthirsty vampires. despite what you may think, he was actually born and raised in south carolina.

tyler experiences injustice on two counts throughout his childhood: vampires are widely discriminated against, and he lives in a small town in the south in the 1980's, so he's had negative experiences related to race. his parents gave up trying to integrate their children into regular society and convinced their children to become serial killers, like vampires are inclined to be, and so the infamous Dakota Triplets became a household name.

tyler, north, and south were wanted for arson, murder, breaking and entering, kidnapping, and vampiricy (a crime in and of itself). however, as the years went by, tyler found himself uncomfortable in his own skin (gender dysphoria oooooh scary!!!). he cut his hair and started speaking in a lower voice, which the press noted and commented on. tyler was used as a figurehead to the idea that queer people were villains (which was largely accepted by some people *cough cough american republicans*, but widely rejected on an international scale).

NOVASPACOZ v0.1, the robot who would become tyler's best friend, took a particular interest in him. he managed to recruit tyler to the msc, leading to what was known as the vanishing of tyler dakota (the press speculated that he had been hate crimed or discreetly captured by the fbi. the fbi thought he had walked into sunlight without sunscreen, yes vampires can walk in sunlight if they just wear sunscreen in this universe)

keep in mind, up to this point, tyler was still a trans egg. when you're brought into the multiversal simulation corporation, you become your true self. so as soon as NOVA brought tyler into the msc, he got the most gender-affirming appearance he could've hoped for. and he was confused as hell. but also happy. and he changed his middle name to be brandon (his birth name was tyler brianna dakota)

after training in the msc for years, tyler became extremely close with NOVA and another character named marvin faye, but developed somewhat of a rivalry with NOVA's boyfriend, ohio. this continued as tyler became one of the fastest risers of the ranks that the msc had ever seen. tyler was exceptional at creating chaos, and this just made ohio hate him more.

eventually, tyler became the second-highest rank in the msc, only the head of the department outranking him. at one point, he got his siblings brought into the msc as apprentices, his sister north in the creation department and his brother south in the chaos department. now he's just waiting for the department head's apprentice to graduate so that she will retire, and then he will be in charge of an entire department.

anyways yeah, thats tyler. my baby boy. i love him more than i love myself.

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offender42085 · 1 year

Photo

Post 797

“I reverted to my basic Army training – reacting to contact – as I responded to the thrown cup by reaching for my gun and shooting.”

Christopher P Taylor, Missouri inmate 1329669, born 1977, incarceration intake in 2018 at age 41, sentenced to 17 years, scheduled release date not available

Involuntary Manslaughter, Armed Criminal Action

A Jackson County judge Friday sentenced Christopher Taylor to 17 years in state prison for fatally shooting Whitney Gray, a 22-year-old mother of two, in a fit of road rage one Sunday evening in October 2016.

Taylor, 41, of Independence, had been charged with second-degree murder and armed criminal action for responding to a cup of clear liquid that Gray’s passenger threw at his SUV by reaching for his gun and shooting through the windshield of Gray's minivan. A jury convicted him of involuntary manslaughter, which carries a maximum sentence of seven years, and armed criminal action, which carries at least a three-year sentence.

Circuit Judge Marco Roldan sentenced Taylor to seven years for involuntary manslaughter and 17 years for armed criminal action. The sentences run concurrently, and he gets credit for time served.

“I cannot, in good conscience, base the sentence solely on involuntary manslaughter when there is armed criminal action involved,” Roldan said just before announcing his verdict, which elicited some sudden gasps from members of Gray's family.

Earlier, Roldan said the decision had weighed heavily on him this week, and he had read all nine victim-impact statements and 12 letters in support of Taylor.

“There are so many important factors I have to look at. I have to weigh them and balance them,” Roldan said, talking about the jury's verdict, the circumstances of Gray's death and the impact on her family, plus Taylor's life and background.

“This never would've occurred had you not taken aggressive actions while driving,” Roldan. “They were in no way showing any harm or threat to you. You never surrendered yourself – in fact, quite the opposite.”

Witnesses had testified to Taylor driving closely behind Gray while going north on Sterling near 23rd Street. Stopped at the intersection of Winner Road, Gray, Taylor and Gray's front-seat passenger, her niece, had a shouting exchange, including that Gray's two sons were in the backseat. The niece threw the cup of liquid that hit Taylor's SUV.

In a taped confession to police in South Dakota after he was captured a couple days later, Taylor said he had reverted to his basic Army training – “reacting to contact” – after he responded to the thrown cup by reaching for his gun and shooting.

“I don't know why, but it was a negligent discharge,” Taylor said. “I didn't want it to happen, I couldn't believe it had happened, I panicked, I just hit the gas. I didn't know what the hell to do; I was scared.”

In his victim-impact testimony, Gray's father, Sean, debunked Taylor's claim about Army training, based on his own and his son's military experience, and he said Taylor was “very careless with his weapon.”

“I don't believe he's safe for society,” he said.

After Taylor shot Gray, sped home and then heard on radio that the shooting had been fatal, grabbed a bunch of possessions, ignored his phone and left town. He threw the murder weapon in the Missouri River in South Dakota, he said, and later stopped at a hotel just east of Rapid City, intending to drive back the next day and turn himself in. Officers had used the tracking device on Taylor's recently purchased SUV and notified local authorities, who captured him at the hotel after ramming his vehicle to draw him out of the room.

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usafphantom2 · 2 years

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B-52 bombers return to Europe to strengthen ties with NATO allies

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 08/19/2022 - 08:00 AM in Military

U.S. Air Force B-52H Stratofortress aircraft, along with aviators and support equipment from the 5th Bomber Wing of Minot Air Base, North Dakota, arrived on August 18 in the area of responsibility of the U.S. European Command to train with U.S. allies and partners.

The aircraft will operate from the RAF Base in Fairford, England. Sending strategic bombers to the United Kingdom helps to exercise Fairford personnel as the advanced operational location of the United States Air Forces in Europe (USAFE) for bombers.

"These bomber Task Force (BTF) missions throughout Europe offer a great opportunity to improve our combined readiness, promote interoperability and demonstrate our global power projection alongside our allies," said U.S. Air Force General James Hecker, commander of USAFE-AFRICA and AIRCOM. "Our maximum strength in the European area of operations is the lethality of the joint force - our ability to train and operate with our allies and partners as a layered, capable and reliable combat team."

This training improves integration between air and ground forces, as well as interoperability between partner nations, which is crucial to ensure that NATO forces can work together effectively in operations and warfare.

Unprecedentedly, the Royal Norwegian Air Force released photos of F-35A fighters flying alongside American bombers and Swedish Gripens. The U.S. bombers joined two Swedish JAS39 Gripen and two Norwegian F-35s for training west of Andoya, northern Norway.

“In recent years, our specialized air and ground forces have cooperated in complex air operations with American and Swedish forces,” Maj. Gen. Rolf Folland, head of the Royal Norwegian Air Force, said. “Today, we operate side by side once again and demonstrate our solid training progression as we continue to add more elements to strengthen our collective capabilities.”

A prominent aspect of today's arrival mission was air integration between U.S., Norway and Sweden military aircraft, while performing rapid global power projection missions to support the mutual defense of NATO partners and allies, while achieving effects in various domains.

"Witnessing our nation's Gripen fighters flying alongside several of the most powerful military aircraft in the United States visually shows NATO's strength and solidarity," said Maj. Gen. Carl-Johan Edström, commander of the Swedish Air Force. “These moments really capture the military power that exists within NATO - as individual nations, but, most importantly, as a unified Alliance.”

BTF operations are routinely carried out throughout the European continent, highlighting NATO's commitment to preventing the opponent's aggression against the Alliance.

"Our strategic bomber missions demonstrate our ever-ready global attack capability," said U.S. Air Force Lieutenant Colonel Ryan Loucks, commander of the BTF's 23rd Expeditionary Bomber Squadron. “The B-52 remains a universally recognized symbol of America's guarantees to our allies and partners.”

BTF missions offer a way to routinely evaluate and evaluate the readiness of strategic assets to safeguard the security and stability of the European area of operation.

Tags: Military AviationBoeing B-52H StratofortressNATO - North Atlantic Treaty OrganizationUSAF - United States Air Force / U.S. Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in a specialized aviation magazine in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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littlefeather-wolf · 2 years

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Sacagawea ... short Biography (c. 1788–c. 1812)

Lewis and Clark Expedition

Sacagawea and her husband lived among the Hidatsa and Mandan Indians in the upper Missouri River area (present-day North Dakota). In November 1804, an expedition led by Meriwether Lewis and William Clark entered the area. Often called the Corps of Discovery, the Lewis and Clark Expedition planned to explore newly acquired western lands and find a route to the Pacific Ocean. The group built Fort Mandan, and elected to stay there for the winter. Sacagawea was a Shoshone interpreter best known for being the only woman on the Lewis and Clark Expedition into the American West.

Who Was Sacagawea ?

Sacagawea, the daughter of a Shoshone chief, was captured by an enemy tribe and sold to a French Canadian trapper who made her his wife around age 12. In November 1804, she was invited to join the Lewis and Clark expedition as a Shoshone interpreter. After leaving the expedition, she died at Fort Manuel in what is now Kenel, South Dakota, circa 1812.

Early Life ... Born circa 1788 (some sources say 1786 and 1787) in Lemhi County, Idaho. The daughter of a Shoshone chief, Sacagawea's name means "boat puller" or "bird woman" (if spelled as Sakakawea). She was a Shoshone interpreter best known for serving as a member of the Lewis and Clark expedition into the American West — and for being the only woman on the famous excursion. Much of Sacagawea's life is a mystery. Around the age of 12, Sacagawea was captured by Hidatsa Indians, an enemy of the Shoshones. She was then sold to a French-Canadian trapper named Toussaint Charbonneau who made her one of his wives.

Coin :

Over the years, tributes to Sacagawea and her contribution to the Corps of Discovery have come in many forms, such as statues and place-names. She was even featured on a dollar coin issued in 2000 by the U.S. Mint, although it hasn't been widely available to the general public due to its low demand. Covered in brass, the Sacagawea coin (aka the "golden dollar") was made to replace the Susan B. Anthony dollar. Sacagawea, her husband, and her son remained with the expedition on the return trip east until they reached the Mandan villages. During the journey, Clark had become fond of her son Jean Baptiste, nicknaming him "Pomp" or "Pompey." Clark even offered to help him get an education ... Sacagawea left the expedition, the details of her life become more elusive. In 1809, it is believed that she and her husband — or just her husband, according to some accounts — traveled with their son to St. Louis to see Clark. Pomp was left in Clark's care. Sacagawea gave birth to her second child, a daughter named Lisette, three years later ... Only a few months after her daughter's arrival, she reportedly died at Fort Manuel in what is now Kenel, South Dakota, around 1812. (There were stories that it was another wife of Charbonneau who died at Fort Manuel, but historians don't give much credence to this.) After Sacagawea's death, Clark looked after her two children, and ultimately took custody of them both., let’s get out those tools for scraping off those layers of cultural whitewash and mansplainery, and see a little bit more of what’s really going on in this story.Now, those aren’t bad reasons for telling stories… except that in the case of Sacagawea, they aren’t the whole truth. And the parts of the truth that they are hiding are really, really important parts of the story. And there is also a story underneath that is not being told.December 22, 1812

In August 1812, after giving birth to a daughter, Lisette (or Lizette), Sacagawea's health declined. By December, she was extremely ill with “putrid fever” (possibly typhoid fever). She died at 25, on December 22, 1812, in lonely, cold Fort Manuel on a bluff 70 miles south of present-day Bismarck ...

#native american #Sacagawea #littlefeather wolf

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lurkingintheforest · 2 years

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Ohunkakan O'oyake . . . .

"The Lakota, call Bigfoot Chiye-tanka "chiye" means "elder brother" and "tanka" means "great" or "big". In English, though, the Lakota usually call him "the big man".

"There is your Big man standing there, ever waiting, ever present, like the coming of a new day," Oglala Lakota Medicine Man Pete Catches. "He is both spirit and real being, but he can also glide through the forest, like a moose with big antlers, as though the trees weren't there... I know him as my brother... I want him to touch me, just a touch, a blessing, something I could bring home to my sons and grandchildren, that I was there, that I approached him, and he touched me."

Ray Owen, son of a Dakota spiritual leader. "They exist in another dimension from us, but can appear in this dimension whenever they have a reason to. See, it's like there are many levels, many dimensions. When our time in this one is finished, we move on to the next, but the Big Man can go between. The Big Man comes from Creator. He's our big brother, kind of looks out for us.

The existence of The Big Man is taken for granted throughout North America, and so are his powerful psychic abilities. The Big Man knows when humans are searching for him and that he chooses when and to whom to make an appearance, and that his psychic powers account for his ability to elude man's efforts to capture him or hunt him down.

In Native culture, the entire natural world, the animals, the plants, the rivers, the stars is seen as a family. The increasing appearances of the big man are not only a message or warning to the individuals or communities to whom he appears, but to humankind at large. A messenger who appears as a warning from Creator that man's disrespect for his sacred instructions has upset the harmony and balance of existence!

#sasquatch #bigfoot #cryptid #cryptozoology #creature #paranormal #native #lakota

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strawberrysunsets · 2 years

Text

The Empty World (Ch. 7)

Donald Pierce x Reader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: After striking a dangerous deal, the mutant travels to Transigen's laboratory in Mexico City.

Warnings: Injury, swearing, mention of death, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: Y'all, shit hit the fan in my life this week in about ten different ways. There was also a hurricane. I feel like the final girl in a horror movie. Anyways, enjoy 😭

Comments/reblogs/feedback mean the world to me!:)

Chapter 7: Enhanced

It was a long flight to Mexico City.

The trip took a few days, given the delay caused by the cleanup, and you were utterly disoriented by the time you arrived – functioning on far too little sleep, sore in ways you didn’t have words to describe, and irritable beyond measure at the constant presence of Reavers around you. While you were technically allies, now, you couldn't shake the instinct that men in dark military gear meant danger. It hadn't made for a very relaxing trip.

The experience hadn't been helped by the fact that you'd been unable to dissipate your wings for days now, so they drew stares everywhere you went. You just couldn't muster the focus, or the calm.

Your shuttle from the airport arrived at Transigen’s gates just as the sun was beginning to set beyond the city skyline, and you gazed tiredly out the shuttle's window.

The facility was about what you’d expected; a few cinderblock complexes, surrounded by fences and official-looking signage. In all appearances, a reputable laboratory, though one with curiously tight security.

A guard let the shuttle through the gates, and once it pulled to a stop, you descended onto the pavement, blinking in the light. A man in a sharp black blazer walked towards you, greeting you as he glanced distractedly at a vibrating pager in his hand.

“U36?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“Welcome. You’ve been asked to report to the infirmary for assessment. After that, you can find your way to your rooms; unit B14. While you're at the facility, stay only in the designated areas – don’t enter any laboratory spaces.” He handed you a clip-on pass as he talked, and you examined it. It had no photo; just your ‘name’, U36, and an ID number and barcode. “Dr. Ansley will meet with you once he’s returned. Tomorrow, most likely.”

Ansley was the man you'd met in North Dakota. The one who'd been overseeing the cleanup.

“Thanks,” you said, vaguely, shifting your satchel higher on your shoulder and ruffling your wings uncomfortably. You longed to stretch them wide, given how cramped they'd been for the last few days, but you didn't want to draw any more odd stares than you were already getting.

The evening sun was shinning brightly on the windows of the facility before you, and it suddenly hit you how far you were from any home you'd ever known. A wave of dizziness washed over you.

The assistant glanced at you in dismay, as you swayed slightly on your feet.

“Uh – do you want me to lead you to the infirmary?” He asked, startled out of his businesslike demeanour.

Too tired to be properly embarrassed, you simply nodded.

***

“You have a fever,” the nurse reported. “As well as an infected bullet-wound in your shoulder, second degree burns along most of your calves, bruising on your ribs, and what I think is a torn ligament in one of your, ah – wings – though I can’t be sure, because I’m not an avian anatomist.”

You were lying on a recovery bed, busy enjoying the feeling of being horizontal for what felt like the first time in a week, while a nurse stared at you disapprovingly over the rim of his round glasses.

“So what can you give me, Ben?” You asked tiredly. His nametag labeled him as B. Marín, and he’d told you the B. stood for Benjamin, when you’d asked. “I’m guessing pain killers are on the menu?” You grinned. “Anything you’d recommend?”

The nursed eyed you skeptically, then marked something additional down on his chart.

“I also think you’re exhausted, and may be experiencing delayed-response shock, based on your pupil dilation and heartrate. You need rest.”

You sighed, and closed your eyes. “Can’t argue with that.”

It felt good to lie down, though the smell of antiseptic and the distant radio chatter emanating from the hallway nearby still set your nerves on edge. That was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Benjamin returned with pills for you to take, and after swallowing them, you laid back down on the bed, staring out the window at the fading sky. The radio chatter soon faded into the background of your awareness, and your eyelids grew heavy.

I'll just lie down here for a minute, you thought. Just until I have the energy to go up to my rooms.

***

Donald Pierce sat in one of the private infirmary rooms reserved for execs and other people of importance, and glared at the socket of his cybernetic arm.

The kids had gotten away – and half his Reavers had been slaughtered by a junkied-up Wolverine. Zander was dead. And he himself had nearly been killed by the same mutant fuck-ups he’d been sent to retrieve.

He deftly wound two pieces of wiring together and secured them with a clamp, channeling his anger into the cold focus he always used when working.

The infirmary's lights had been dimmed for the evening, but he kept his bedside lamp on, illuminating the tray table before him. He'd been in to get his stitches removed, and would leave in a moment – but he'd gotten preoccupied with the touch-ups on his arm.

He was in the process of enhancing its kinetic linkages, to tighten its reaction-time down from a quarter of a second, to a fifth. Better than the average reaction time of a natural nerve ending, he thought, with some satisfaction.

After a moment, he finished the adjustment, and slotted his arm back into its socket with a sigh. On top of the events of the previous week, he was rankled by the delay his injuries were causing. He hated being cooped up.

The latest briefing sat on the tray table before him, and he idly gathered up its pages, scanning its headline again though he'd already read it.

New Direction, its subject line stated.

Alkali-Transigen will be moving away from the initiatives associated with Project X, and pursuing a number of new potential programs in their place.

So, he was being reassigned. He was pissed, but there was no arguing with funding. The kids – and Zander's pet project, X-24 – had been too damn expensive, and too uncontrollable. If there was one thing this whole shit show had taught him, it was that. An asset is only as useful as your ability to control it.

He pulled on his button-up shirt, wincing as it grazed his still-healing wounds, then stood. As he made his way into the main room and towards the exit, he snapped his fingers to get a nurse's attention, and instructed her to have his tools and other belongings sent back up to his rooms. The nurse acquiesced. But as Pierce turned to leave, his gaze caught on a familiar form in one of the non-exec recovery beds across the room.

He slowed.

It was her. The mutant.

She lay sprawled on the bed, wings jutting out at an awkward angle behind her, as if she'd fallen asleep without meaning to. Bandages covered one of her shoulders, and he could see purple bruising along her collarbone, as well as the yellow-green remnants of fading bruises along her jaw.

Honestly, she looked like hell.

He approached, and paused beside the divider at the end of her bed as he idly tightened the socket of his metal arm.

He’d been informed of her employment, of course – but seeing her here was a different matter. Her arrival certainly made for an intriguing turn of events.

He watched her for a moment more, then turned to leave.

There was work to be done unravelling the questions surrounding her, but for now, he had other things to do. Knowing she was here, though, meant that he’d have to meet with Ansley to discuss her handling. She’d make a useful asset, if she could be controlled well enough to accomplish that.

After all, an asset was only as useful as one's ability to control it.

***

By the time you woke, the sky past the infirmary's windows was dark. You sat up stiffly, to see that someone had moved dividers around your bed to give you privacy while you slept.

As you regained awareness of your surroundings, you realized that it had been nearby voices which had woken you. There were nurses near, it seemed; talking somewhere beyond the dividers.

“Yes, we took his stitches out today,” one lightly accented voice reported. “He just left. It was mostly bad frostbite, burns, and vascular damage – but Dr. Torres got it all under control with the Hyperbaric chamber.”

Someone else made an indistinct noise. “I’d be happier for him, if he hadn’t knocked over my fucking patient station last month. Didn’t even apologize. Took me an hour to clean up.”

You slowly moved to stand from your bed, stretching before wearily pulling on the hospital robe that the nurse – Benjamin – had given you to wear over your clothes. It was late, but you were determined to find your rooms. The privacy would be worth it.

“Así,” the other speaker sighed. “Es la vida.” That’s life. “Especially with those higher-ups. Now, have Mr. Pierce's things sent to his rooms, will you? I've got to go. Ramira's taking over the night shift.”

You paused while pulling on the robe, slow to process what you’d heard. That whole time, the nurses had been talking about Pierce?

Your brow furrowed, and you pushed aside the dividers, watching them depart towards the infirmary desk.

So he is alive. And unsurprisingly, still an asshole. Though an injured one, by the sound of it.

Well, you thought drily, orienting yourself towards the exit and forcing your tired feet to move, at least I’ll have one familiar face around here.

***

That night was difficult.

An aide had helped you find your rooms – while shooting your wings constant sidelong glances – but once beneath the stiff cotton sheets, you found that, though exhausted, you couldn't sleep. Sounds echoed in from the streets below – a barking dog, the clang of metal – and in the darkness, you couldn’t keep your mind from drifting back to the most painful memories of the last week.

Recognizing Caliban and Charles’ bodies.

Standing at Logan’s grave.

Your rooms had turned out to be a simple, cold, and functional unit; consisting of one open room that doubled as both sitting room and bedroom, and a small bathroom with a standing shower. The place felt like a hotel room, in a way – and its generic soullessness made you long to be anywhere that was warm, comfortable, and lived in. And most importantly, had people you cared about in it.

But there was no going back.

The life you'd had in the desert, with Logan and the others, was gone. And somehow, within the span of a week, your life had completely changed trajectory. Now, you had no idea where it was headed. Only that, once again, you'd be facing it alone.

Loneliness choked you, and suddenly, you were gripping the bedsheets against your face to stifle the tremors that wracked your body.

All the pent-up emotions from the last week seemed to be flooding you all at once, and it was all you could do to bit your tongue and stop the sobs from escaping.

You didn't know how you'd survive this. But there was no alternative – for you had to uphold your end of your bargain with Transigen. Come work for us, and they go free. You had to do this, for the sake of Laura and the others. So you'd find a way to pull yourself together.

For now, though, you could give into the tears.

Eventually, pain and exhaustion overcame you, and you were pulled down into sleep.

***

An insistent knocking woke you up around 10am, and you dragged yourself to your door to find an assistant waiting there. They informed you that you were to see an aide for equipment and a uniform, before your meeting with Ansley later that morning.

The gear turned out to be a pager and radio for communication, and a pair of combat-suitable boots, while the uniforms were two sets of identical, nondescript black clothing. The uniforms were functional, and with a hint of military flavour to their pockets and rigger belt. Therefore, despite your bad night, you arrived to meet Ansley looking and feeling quite a bit more professional than you had the day previous.

“U36,” he greeted, motioning you in as you arrived at the door to his office. “That’s what Zander called you, isn’t it?”

You nodded, unimpressed, as you approached to seat yourself in the chair before his desk. Despite the tumultuous state of your emotions, you were determined to remain composed. You were here for one reason, and one reason only: to cement a deal that would secure the safety of Laura and the other young mutants.

“Well," Ansley said, shuffling the sheaf of papers on his desk before setting them aside, "I’d like to start fresh on that count. What do you prefer to be called?”

You paused for a moment, considering the pros and cons of giving your true name. As far as you knew, there weren’t any records on you that would give them any more information than they already had – but it still felt dangerous.

“Ray,” you finally replied. A nickname an old friend had given you.

Ansley smiled. “Ray. Good.” He sat back in his chair. “As you've probably learned, I'm acting as Transigen's Managing Director, given Zander's death. As an organization, our priorities have definitely gotten a shake-up in the past week; but I believe we could still use an agent of your skills.”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue.

“As Zander told you, we’d be interested in recruiting you into our Security Department. We still have a few intelligence operations that could benefit from an agent with your... mobility," he said, gaze moving briefly to your wings.

“And the kids?” You prompted. “The deal was that if I work for you, they go free. Completely free. Destroy any records you have on them, and stop tracking them. Forget they exist.”

Ansley’s brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as that. We’ve reported them amongst the fatalities in North Dakota, for the time being – but if it comes to light that they survived, we’d still be liable for their actions.”

It was your turn to scowl. You still didn't know why Transigen was so interested in the kids, other than the fact that they were the first mutants born in twenty-five years – and Transigen's liability for them was just as much of a mystery. Liability implied ownership – and how could that make sense? They were kids. But seeing your gaze darken, Ansley raised a hand to continue.

“That being said, I can promise that we won’t interfere with the children’s activities as long as they pose no threat to the general public and draw no attention to themselves.”

“So you’re still tracking them?” You asked.

“Not actively,” Ansley conceeded. “But if reports surface of a group of mutant children wreaking havoc across the Canadian border – well, I’m sure you can understand that we’ll be forced to intervene.”

You looked down, considering his words. In all honesty, you'd lost a lot of your bargaining power when you arrived at Transigen's gates – and though you disliked it, you understood Ansley's reasoning. If the kids' powers were endangering people, law enforcement would have to get involved. But if the kids didn’t draw attention to themselves, then Transigen would be happy to sweep this whole thing under the rug. It seemed as good an outcome as you could hope for.

“Alright,” you replied. “I’ll work for you, under the agreement that the kids aren’t tracked or surveilled, and you don’t interfere with them unless absolutely forced to. If that ever happens, I want to be the first to know.”

Ansley inclined his head. “Agreed,” he said, seemingly pleased. “In that case, my assistant will bring you a contract and confidentiality agreement, and you can join myself and our security team for a meeting tomorrow. Here, at 3pm. I'll send along a briefing to you by tonight. For any of your other needs, you can consult an aide.”

You ruffled your wings in preparation to stand, then paused, as if you’d just remembered something. “Oh – and what about my salary?”

Ansley glanced at you, one brow raised.

You stared back. “Zander promised me one.”

Zander had done nothing of the sort, of course – but you were sure Ansley didn’t know that.

The doctor sat back in his chair, assessing you. “Did he, now?”

You nodded. “Twenty-five hundred a week,” you said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

Ansley laughed. “Sure he did.”

Your eyes narrowed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my abilities aren’t exactly a dime a dozen. I’m a specialist. And that requires a specialist’s rate.”

Ansley stared at you for a moment more, then smiled and waved a hand magnanimously. “We’ll start you at five-hundred a week. The rest will depend on your performance.” He turned back to his computer in dismissal. “See yourself out.”

***

You considered your small victory, as you traversed the hallway back towards the elevator.

Five-hundred a week.

Sure, it sounded like a great plenty, since you were literally penniless – but you knew that agents like Pierce were probably making ten times that amount. And if you were going to be working for Transigen, you might as well be taking as much of their money as you could. You didn’t want to have to depend on them for your every need.

***

That afternoon found you in Transigen Research's exercise room, grimacing as you tried to lift a small weight with your injured arm. The doctor had recommended you try to recover some muscle tone in your shoulder after the bullet wound, but right now, it felt more like the exercise was tearing it further apart. Still, the pain helped keep your mind off of other things. There were a million things you couldn't think about right now, if you wanted to make it through the day.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just relax. You'll make it through this.

You'd found the exercise room in your exploration of the complex, and stayed because of its large glass-fronted windows. They looked out onto the hallway beyond, and the parking lot past that, giving the room the distinct feeling of having been made for Transigen's agents and employees, rather than its prisoners.

You lowered the weight, grimacing as your shoulder twinged. You were about to massage it, when movement caught your eye. A familiar figure was passing down the hallway outside, and with a jolt of anxiety, you recognized Pierce's tall form.

His gaze slid past you, serious and preoccupied – and then returned to land on you, lighting with surprise. His blond hair was swept back from his face, and his blue eyes were just as sharp and calculating as you'd remembered them. He waggled his fingers at you in a cheeky wave.

You glared at him in return, and flipped him off.

When Pierce reached the door to the exercise room, he paused to lean causally against its frame.

“You know – I heard you switched sides, but I didn’t quite believe it.” His voice was as you remembered it, too; sweet as syrup, and dripping with the promise of trouble. “So you’ve joined the good guys, huh?”

You glared at him, massaging your shoulder, then slowly approached and came to a halt a few paces away. You were going to have to get this over with at some point.

“That seems like a stretch,” you replied. "Last I heard, you were trying to execute a bunch of kids.”

Honestly, you were surprised to see him on his feet and seemingly devoid of serious injury, given what you'd heard in the infirmary. But here he was, back to his regular self. Upon examining him, though, you did spot a faint line of bruising peeking from the top of his shirt.

“How’s the recoup, by the way? I heard they really did a number on you.”

Pierce smiled. “Oh, fine and dandy,” he replied. “Glad to know you’ve been keeping up with my recovery. Now – I have to ask.”

He stood from the wall, and moved to make a slow circuit of you, examining your wings. When he took the first step forwards, though, you couldn’t help your gut reaction – you took a quick half-step backwards, nearly a flinch. Pierce paused, assessing you, and then raised his hands innocently, as if to say: no need to be scared. He finished his circuit of you, and returned to the doorway, gaze cool and unreadable.

“Are these gonna be a permanent thing? Cause a sudden species change seems pretty odd, even for a mutey."

“They’re permanent," you replied, ruffling your wings self-consciously. "Until I can dissipate them, that is. Which is easier said than done."

You didn't know why you were being honest with him – but something inside you longed to tell someone else about your problems. Anxiety about your decreasing ability to control your mutation had been eating away at you, and it made it less scary, to speak about it aloud. Even if that honesty might come back to bite you.

Pierce raised a brow, and tilted his head to the side in consideration. “Interesting,” he replied.

“So I guess this means you officially failed in your mission of capturing me,” you said, moving to a safer subject and returning to the familiar territory of dry mocking. “Another strike on the record. At this rate, they must be looking for your replacement.”

Pierce’s gaze returned to you, and he inhaled before letting out a gusty sigh. “You’re here, aren’t you?” He asked, smiling in the playfully condescending way you’d come to associate with him. “Way I see it, that’s a win.”

“By no skill of yours,” you replied. “You were lying unconscious in a hospital bed when I made that decision.”

Pierce’s smile widened, and he stood from the wall. “See? You have been keepin’ track of me. That’s flattering. Now, if you’ll excuse me–” he tilted his head in the approximation of a gracious farewell. “I have places to be. And if I’m not mistaken, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. 3pm sharp.”

He winked, and then was gone – whistling as he strode away down the hall and left you to glare at his retreating back.

Well, you thought idly, turning back towards the weight rack and massaging your shoulder in preoccupation. At least I know one thing.

If pain doesn't work to keep my mind off the current shit show of my life, there's at least one other dangerous distraction in this building.

***

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