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lialacleaf · 3 months

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The Spartan and His Pyro:

Poor Past Actions, and Their Present Consequences

Synopsis: Catherine has regrets about her past, and it may haunt her forever.

Seeing old friends often went one of two ways. You were either thrilled to see them, or you would rather have your fingernails pulled out. For Catherine, it was usually the sour kind of reunion that she found herself trapped in.

"I'm pretty sure you stole my shit."

"You had a bright future ahead of you."

"We'ren't you one of my kids's friends? We caught you sleeping in our garage once?"

Or her personal favorite, "You're looking better."

Catherine thought it wasn't hard to look "better" when people were used to seeing you hungover in the grocery store parking lot on a school night, boondocking in an old pickup truck she'd borrowed from her foster dad, along with some of his booze.

As far as she was concerned, it was her whiskey, paid for with the money the state sent as an incentive to foster. She didn't care about the legalities of it, at least until her classmates were whispering about her underage drinking habits when she stumbled through the halls the next morning, blatantly hung over.

Her clothes smelled like her foster mother's smoking habits anyway, and people had already made plenty of assumptions about her based on that. She was beyond the friendship of the clean, well-cared-for kids at her high school.

They were loved. She could tell when she looked at them, with their new clothes, shoes that didn't have holes, and freshly trimmed hair.

What was worse was the parents who saw her in the pickup line and could tell that she wasn't.

A woman once offered her some money to buy a bag for her school books, and she'd turned around and spent it on substances without an ounce of guilt. She still didn't look her in the eye in the pick-up line though.

That life, however, was galaxies away, and Catherine didn't have to think about where her next meal would come from anymore If she'd have clothes to wear, and most importantly, how long until her next drink. Her relationship with alcohol was much healthier now, and her team, her friends, were none the wiser of what she'd once been.

"I wish we didn't have to go to these things, seems like a waste of time," Kelly said, tugging at the collar of her uniform with a scowl.

Catherine simply shrugged, glancing around at the other occupants of the Rec Hall. She didn't even know whose retirement party this was, but Blue Team's presence had been requested, so she could only assume it was a high-ranking officer or a council member.

"I don't see the problem. They've got a pretty good spread," Horace interjected from beside Catherine, licking the remnants of a custard dessert from his fingers.

"Remind me why you're here?" Frederick asked with a raised brow as the Hispanic polished off a plate of fruit tarts.

"I served under the old man a while back, he was always the type to throw a big party, especially if it was in his honor," Horace explained, before elbowing Catherine in the side. "Where's your boyfriend?"

Catherine shot the soldier a glare and elbowed him right back. "Stop calling him that," she snapped. She and John hadn't exactly put a label on what they were, nor had the Master Chief declared that things between them were exclusive.

Sure, he had admitted to having feelings for her, and he'd been rather physical here and there, but nothing had been decided. She couldn't help but worry that if Horace kept up with the unwanted commentary it would become overwhelming for the Spartan, and he'd end things with her.

"John is running late, won't be here for a little while, if he comes at all," Kelly supplied, raising a brow at the redhead's hostility.

"Guess you got dolled up for nothing," Horace whispered and Catherine scoffed. She hadn't exactly put much effort into her appearance. Only curled her hair, done up her face, squeezed into a little black dress she hadn't worn since her twenties, and shoved her feet into the most damn uncomfortable pair of heels sitting in the back of her closet. Ok, so she had gotten dolled up.

It was somewhat of a relief, however, that the Chief might not even come to the party, worries that she had overdone her attire floating around in her brain. Maybe her lipstick was a little too red, or her eye makeup was too pronounced.

Catherine startled when Kelly bumped her shoulder, a worried look on her face. "Everything all right?"

She nodded, smoothing out her dress with a nervous smile. "Just peachy."

"I'm sure John will come, even if he waits until the last minute."

"Oh! no- I wasn't...that's not- nevermind. I- I need a drink." She couldn't get away from her friends fast enough. She felt like a clown as if she was attracting too much attention. She should have just stuck with her dress uniform and foregone the makeup.

She felt even more ridiculous knowing that even the Spartans themselves could see that she was just dressing up to impress the Chief. She felt like glass as if everyone around her was looking in on her most private intentions, picking out her insecurities one by one.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice the familiar figure that stepped into her path until she collided with a firm chest.

"Catherine? Is that really you?"

Her eyes darted up and she felt her blood run cold. There was no way. Her mind was playing tricks on her as a result of her anxiety. It had to be.

The man before her was tall and lanky, with sandy blonde hair on his head and a pathetic amount of muscle on his arms compared to the other men in the room.

"Toby? What...what are you doing here?" she asked, looking around for something, anything to pull her away from this reunion.

"I'm here for my old man's retirement party, what are you doing here?" Toby had a grin that spread wide and showed off his teeth, pearly whites that Catherine knew to be veneers. He'd smoked his way through his real ones back in high school, and it was a miracle his lungs were still intact.

"Your...old...oh," Catherine offered him a smile that was wilting the moment it hit her face. "Wow, time really flies, doesn't it," she mumbled behind her grimace.

"Yeah, this stuck-up military stuff isn't really for me though. You know?"

"Oh I know, Toby. Boy, do I know." She anxiously wrung her hands, eyes darting around.

"Man, I miss the good old days though. You ever think about it?" he asked, a reminiscent gleam in his eyes.

A sigh of resignation left her lips. "No Toby, I, a grown woman with a job and real responsibilities, do not fantasize about hotboxing your car in the middle of January."

Toby let out a bark of laughter. "Damn, Cat. You got old and boring."

Catherine frowned, smoothing her hands over her dress self-consciously. "I'm not that old," she grumbled.

A sudden hand on her waist made her jump, and her eyes snapped up to a familiar pair of blue ones. "Am I interrupting?"

Catherine felt her heart drop into her stomach, and a strong desire to puke bubbled up in her belly despite the lack of alcohol sitting there.

"Not at all, mate! Catherine, who's your friend?" Toby gave her a cheeky grin as he eyed John's figure curiously.

Catherine felt as if the room was a hundred degrees and her knees were going to give out so that she might hit the floor like a dead weight.

"This is..." Her partner? Her significant other? Her commanding officer who was also her crush turned situationship? "Jo-" she was interrupted by her own burp, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, as her anxiety turned to full-blown indigestion. "This is John."

The air felt too thick to breathe, and if the Master Chief had noticed the tension, he didn't deem it necessary to comment on it. "Friend of yours?" he asked.

Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but Toby opened his mouth much faster. "Oh, we go waaay back. Started high school together, feels like forever ago now. Cat always knew how to have a good time. Shared a lot of our firsts," Toby supplied, bumping the Spartan's shoulder with a cheeky grin.

Between the wave of embarrassment and sudden nausea, Catherine nearly whimpered. "Toby taught me how to smoke a cigarette," she stated quickly.

John simply quirked an eyebrow, glancing between the redhead and the clearly intoxicated man before him. "I've never seen you smoke."

"Well she always preferred the reefers," Toby said so matter-of-factly that Catherine couldn't possibly suppress her grimace. She was going to kill him. He needed to shut the hell up or she was going to stuff a cream puff down his throat and watch him suffocate.

John gave little reaction, and she could only imagine the disappointment he was feeling. Surely he was realizing what a mess she really was. What a degenerate she'd been in her youth. She must have been a polished piece of shit in his eyes now.

"It's too bad you joined the military, you were a helluva good time-"

Catherine felt another nervous belch coming on and swallowed thickly. "I need some water," she interrupted, pushing past Toby, towards the bar, throwing a half-hearted goodbye over her shoulder.

The bartender had been nice enough to hand her a ginger ale, noticing the way she clutched her stomach in discomfort. She took small sips, her lip wobbling as she tried not to recount the events that had just occurred, knowing it would send her heart rate through the rough.

She took deep breaths, trying to focus on the expanding of her lungs and not the noise of the party around her. She felt his looming presence over her despite staring into her glass, her shoulders tightening and her breaths coming out shallow. She felt like she was choking.

And then suddenly he was pulling her in from the side, one hand planted firmly on her waist while the other swept from the top of her neck to the base of her spine.

"That was eventful."

Catherine simply nodded, burping softly as her stomach settled. John squeezed her hip, before moving to cup her cheek, the warmth from his palm seeping into her clenched jaw.

"You're fine," he rasped softly, and she nodded, humming in agreement despite the wheeze in her lungs. "Catherine," he urged her to look at his face, and her eyes darted there momentarily.

"I'm sorry," she blurted all of a sudden, feeling like a fool.

John didn't falter, his hand sweeping in sooting strokes down her back. "For what?" he chuckled softly. "Your friend?"

"He's not my friend," she snapped, wilting into his shoulder. "He's a prick I used to mess around with, I didn't think I'd ever see him again."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," he assured her, arms settling around her waist. "Why is this bothering you so much?" he prodded.

"I have a really good life here," her voice wavered, her hand rising to cling to one of his sturdy arms. "I really don't want to lose that because of something stupid I did in the past," she admitted.

John frowned, watching as the redhead seemed to fold in on herself. "Do you think about this often?" he asked.

Catherine swallowed thickly. "A lot. Every day." Her life was a constant battle between the joy of finally having a home, and the fear of loss and abandonment. What if Blue Team decided she was too much to handle?

John shook his head, pulling her tight against his chest. "You're a part of my team. You're mine. Even the parts of yourself that you aren't proud of." he murmured.

Catherine let out a deep sigh, allowing the tension to melt from her shoulders. “You don’t know everything I’ve done,” she warned, voice wavering.

John’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he offered her a reassuring smile. “Don’t need to.”

He’d never been under the impression that she had ever been the most well-behaved adolescent. Maybe someday he’d tell her about the time he cost Fred and Sam their dinner and ended up with a black eye.

Catherine licked her lips nervously and nodded. “Thank you, John,” she said swallowing thickly.

Her Spartan had yet to abandon her, and maybe someday she’d stop expecting him to.

Tag List:

@kittybatman04 @il0vebeingdelulu @starchaser-the-prophet

@writeforfandoms

-I think that's everyone? it's been so long since I posted for this....

Masterlist - Find the rest of the Pyro Series here!

#master chief #john 117 #master chief x oc

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lunarsilkscreen · 1 month

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Why isn't Cloud a Soldier Class Sin-ra Militant?

There's a theory that despite being the only [Test Subject] to avoid absorption into the [Sephiroth Collective] that he didn't make Soldier because he was [Weak of Will].

This couldn't be further from the truth. In reality; Cloud was recognized by several Soldier Class fighters as being worthy of going up in the ranks. The reason he didn't is because of what happened before he ever had a chance to promote.

Our last known contact and assignment given to Cloud, he is assigned to shadow one of the strongest known Soldier (and Cloud's childhood hero) Sephiroth. Part of this assignment was to keep his identity secret from the people in his home town. Unbeknownst to Cloud; he is being put through the paces of adversity to see exactly how he would respond when put through challenging scenarios that challenge not only himself physically, but mentally and spiritually.

A kind of training that every [Soldier Class] fighter has had up to this point. And Cloud, he passed with flying colors. Despite believing that the organization had passed him up for this [Great Honor].

So much so that he gives his life for his home town, and Shinra from the domestic terrorist that Shinra accidentally created in Sephiroth. This is unknown to Shinra as a whole, because Chief Scientist [Hojo] had been performing secret experiments that went unchecked. Because of Hojo's track record in achieving results in the [Soldier] program, the rest of the directors thought little of it.

And because Hojo viewed [Sephiroth] as his own son AND crowning achievement, he sought to copy that success. Shinra Directors, not as well versed in the actual science assumed that this would be good for the company as a whole. Despite it taking an [Extreme] mental toll on our top [Security Forces].

In hindsight; this was an obvious flaw in our [National Security].

Hojo was able to take advantage of the chaos at [Nibelheim] to fake the deaths of several [Security Officers] including [Soldier Class] Sephiroth, Zack, and [Candidate] Cloud. He subsequently held them captive at one of Shinra's underground testing facilities, against theirs (and official Shinra orders) will.

Director Rufus didn't believe that Sephiroth or Cloud was still alive until he recognized both of them when his father [Late Former Director Shinra] was killed. He had a hunch that Cloud {Claiming to be Soldier} was a part of this, but upon seeing the murder weapon a [Masamune Replica] could not tell if this was a dead man framing another dead man for murder; or something else entirely.

Director Rufus, being entirely capable of fighting on a similar level to a [Soldier Class] fighter ascertained that this was in fact, most-likely, Former [Soldier Candidate] Cloud.

He seemed fairly certain that Cloud was not responsible for his father's death. However; that could be because Rufus did not care that his father had passed. Director Rufus Shinra had this to say about his engagement with the terrorist Cloud;

"Our combat was more like a game. Kind of like we were both in each other's way of something far more important. To be honest; I think that both of us were relieved to have this {talking about the combat} to do instead of the more important thing."

We believe that [Former Soldier Candidate] Cloud, because of his ties with the eco-terrorist group Avalanche has cut all ties with Shinra, and should be approached with extreme caution. We can reasonably gauge that Cloud is somewhere between Class 3 and Class 1 Soldier after reports from some of our top field agents. But we cannot precisely ascertain exactly how strong of a combatant he is.

Reports collected from interviews with people known to have encountered Cloud suggest that he is no more than a Mercenary who is currently being used by the [Avalanche] terror-cell. With many reliable sources explaining that Cloud had many other odd-jobs, and was repeatedly spoken ill-of by known Avalanche Agents, both publicly and privately.

This suggests that there is a reasonable certainty to re-recruit cloud in the future after the current chaos is concluded and a restructuring has taken place. Doing so could prove extremely beneficial for the future [Soldier] training regiments, and Midgar as a whole; seeing as how Cloud has become a kind of [Hometown Legend] in his own right; despite probably not knowing it himself.

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mrs-johansson · 1 year

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Chapter 4: Captain America: The Winter Soldier - Partners in crime

Part 3:

The morning, as usual, started with me in the gym. I’ve been trying to improve my lung capacity and stamina so I’ve been running a lot, even though I hate it. Natasha has taken the day off from the gym and slept in, thank god for once.

She’s been having some sleeping problems lately, more than she usually does. It worries me obviously, but she’s been keeping me in the dark about her nightmares and what upsets her so much that she wakes up in the middle of the night covered in sweat and crying.

The last part of my workout was just hitting the boxing bag. I didn’t bother to wrap my hands since I was not gonna do this for long.

After about 10 minutes I finished my session and made my way toward our room at the HQ. Took a shower and put on some fresh clothes. Just as I was about to leave for my office, I saw an envelope on the floor in front of the main door.

It was a simple white envelope, and getting the card out from it there were just two words written in black ink. Shield compromised.

***

“Nat?” I opened the front door to our apartment, rushing in to talk to her. “What’s wrong?” She got in my eyesight with a frown on her face. “Wait a second,” I murmured, going to the home system and turning off every electrical device and closing all the curtains, also blocking everything that could spy on us.

“Y/n what the hell are you doing?” Natasha moved closer to me in the dark. “Can you lower your voice, please?” I spoke and held onto her shoulder. “Where’s your phone?” I asked. “In our room, why?” “Shield has been compromised,” I said and the air froze. “What? How do you know?” “I got a note. And it’s Fury’s handwriting,” I explained and got the card from my pocket, handing it to the redhead.

“You know, I can’t see a thing,” she said with a sassy tone. “Feel the fucking card, Natalia,” I said firmly. “Alright, calm down.”

As she moved her fingers over the paper, I heard her take a sharp breath in. “NF. It’s definitely from him. Have you tried to contact him?” Asked Natasha. “He didn’t pick it up.” “Maria?” “She neither.” “Steve?” “Haven’t tried.”

“I’ll try Maria, you call Steve,” Nat said as she was already on the way to the bedroom.

Dialing Steve, he picked it up thank god. “Hey, Steve. Where are you?” I asked. “I just went to see a friend of mine. Why? Are you alright?” Steve spoke with a worried voice and in the background, I could hear the city’s sound. “We need to talk. It’s important, about the mission last week,” I said, hoping he would understand the hidden words. “What about it?” “Not on the phone,” I said fast and firmly.“ “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Just drop a text if you get home, Rogers.”

***

“She didn’t answer. I tried three times and all of her numbers. Any luck with Steve?” Nat walked back into the living room. “He’s on his way home, I told him to text when he gets there,” I said and she sat down on the couch, letting out a huff.

“Who could compromise us? I thought SHIELD had great security,” Nat complained, which I completely agreed with. “Probably an inside job.” “Highly ranked if they could get through Nick,” Nat thought out loud.

Just as we got quiet, Natasha’s phone rang, with Maria’s name on the screen. She jumped up from the couch, reaching to accept the call. Tasha instantly put the call on speaker. “Nat? You there?” Maria’s shaky voice gave sound to the quiet room. “Yeah and Y/n.” “Fury’s been shot, he’s in surgery, you guys should come in.” I looked at Natasha, her face dropped and her knuckles turned white as she held her hands in a tight fists. “We’re on our way.”

***

Running inside the hospital, police cars waiting outside and some SHIELD agents in the hallways. Nat ran ahead pushing the door open, and when we got there, Steve and Maria were waiting behind the glass window, watching Fury going under surgery.

Natasha stood in front of the glass, taking a sharp breath in. “Is he gonna make it?” She asked and I looked at Steve waiting for an answer. “I don’t know.” “Tell me about the shooter?” I asked, while also taking a glance at Fury.

“He’s fast and strong. Had a metal arm.” As Steve said those words, it felt like my heart stopped beating. I looked at him like he was a ghost, looking right through him.

“Ballistics?” “Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable.” “Soviet-made,” Nat and I said at the same time. “Yeah,” Maria spoke but then more movement made us look at Nick once again.

We watched as the nurses and the doctor did their job, trying their best to keep Nick alive but in the next second the line was flat. “Don’t do this to me, Nick,” Natasha whispered ahead of herself and so quickly held onto her shaking hand, despite mine also shaking like a leaf.

They tried to get him back with the defibrillator but obviously, it was no use. Natasha tried to convince herself that this is not real, squeezing my hand multiple times.

***

After they got the time of death we were waiting outside the room. Natasha was sitting down, staring in front of herself, legs bouncing and she was even picking on her nails. Maria was talking with the doctor, while Steve and I were standing by Nat’s side.

“Rogers,” I spoke and he lifted his eyes from the ground. He looked at me with a questioning look and I nodded to the side, motioning him to step away.

“Tell me more about the shooter?” I asked him since that one detail was way too similar. “As I said, metal arm. He had a mask, eyes kind of black. Long hair, barely reached his shoulders,” he explained and I couldn’t think about anyone else other than him.

“Did Fury say anything to you?” I hoped to hear an answer but Maria called us, saying we can say goodbye to Fury.

I walked back to Natasha and held my hand out for her, which she took softly and walked ahead.

We all looked at his body, eyes closed, white blanket covering him down from his chest. Natasha stepped forward, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Her silent sobs were only visible to those who knew the trick.

“I need to take him,” Maria walked in. Looked back at Nat and she did not move an inch. “Natasha,” Steve stepped closer to her and I glared at him so badly. Just let her have her moment.

Nat put a gentle hand on Nick’s forehead before storming out of the room, followed by Steve.

Seeing Maria not taking her eyes off of her late boss, I walked to her side. “Will you be okay?” I put a comforting hand on her shoulder and with a sad smile, she nodded. “Call me if you find anything, please.” “Will sure do.”

***

We sat in the car in front of our apartment, dead silent. On the way home, Nat didn’t speak a word, nor did I expect her to do so.

“Can I say something?” I asked quietly and looked at her for an answer. She nodded her head softly but didn’t look my way.

“I know that it seems like Fury is another person you loved and lost, but it’s not your fault. And don’t tell me that this is not what you're thinking, because I know you. And I’m worried that you are gonna put the blame on yourself, even though this is not on you.” “You’re right, it’s not on me. You heard what Maria said, I saw your face. We know who did this,” Natahsa looked at me, eyebrows furrowed. “And we both know that he’s controlled. It’s obvious it’s HYDRA, and that we have someone inside SHIELD who knows everything and that person is the one who is in charge of him.” I said, meaning every word and she agreed. “Steve knows something, and it’s from Fury. We have to find out what that is, he was the last person to talk to him and lose contact with SHIELD, it’s not safe anymore.”

***

Till sunrise, we laid low. Packed up a handful of things, in case we had to leave urgently. But as soon as the hospital took visitors, Natasha and I moved.

“So where is it?” I asked on our way to the same hospital we were at just hours ago. “Same floor, vending machine behind the pink bubble gums. Not very original.” “He’s old, what did you expect?”

We bought every single pack of gum that was in the row and got the drive. Then we waited for Steve to arrive, thinking he would find it where he had put it.

“I don’t like this,” I said and Natasha gave me a questioning look. “Going behind Steve’s back. I know that we are in need of this, but he’s supposed to be our teammate.”

“If he was our real teammate, he would’ve included us in the first place,” said Natasha with a little aggression in her voice. “Would you tell him? If it was you, would you tell him? Or me?” She quickly looked up from the zipper on her hoodie. The look on her face was almost like she was offended by my question.

“Of course, I would tell you. I tell you everything, if not you find it out on your own, I don’t have much of a choice,” her side eye made me smile. “Worrying about how much you eat is not a bad thing Natalia, you’re doing the same so don’t bother to be annoyed by this,” I said as she raised an eyebrow at me.

“Would you tell me? If you knew something like this?” The unsure sound in her voice made me realize how insecure she still is about all this trusting thing. Her eyes were hopeful and big, like a child who was waiting for their parents’ approval of some drawing that they made.

“I would run to tell you. Literally. I trust you with my life. Besides, you know every secret about me,” I looked at her and she had a slight smirk growing on her face. “Secret? What type of secret? I thought you are an open book,” she tilted her head slightly, her teasing voice already making me curious about what was on her mind.

“Open book to you, not everyone.” Her eyes wandered around the room then she found her way back to me. “So is it a secret that you like to be tied up?” She subtly looked down at my lips and then back to my eyes.

I could feel my cheeks turning red as the heat crept up my neck to my face. “I’m gonna check if Steve’s here already,” I said as I pushed myself off the wall and I could hear Natasha chuckle lowly behind me.

***

As Steve walked down the hall, hood on his head, he stood in front of the vending machine looking for the flash drive but Natasha was stubborn enough to step behind him. The loud pop of her gum made the soldier mad quickly.

The next second he pushed Tasha into the room I was waiting in. Aggressive look on his face paired with a strong grip on my girlfriend’s arm. He really needs to lose this behavior.

“Can you not be a jerk for once?” I asked and he did not bother to answer. He just pushed Natasha up against the wall and brushed the hood off of his head. “Where is it?” He spoke into her face. “Safe,” answered Natasha with a stern look. “Do better,” he replied quickly. “Where did you get it?” I asked, stepping closer to the two as I saw that Steve did not loosen his grip.

“Why would I tell you?” He asked like I was some kind of untrustworthy person. “Fury gave it to you. Why?” Natasha continued. “What’s on it?” “We don’t know.” “Stop lying!” He gripped her even more. “Step back, Steve!” I spoke with a little anger but he did not care. “I only act like I know everything, Rogers,” Natasha gave him a look that he brushed off by looking around.

“I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?” He asked. This was new information, and it was shown on Nat’s face too. But I could also see that she was frightened, taken aback by how Steve was acting. “Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.” Why does she keep doing this?! She’s just winding him up. “I'm not gonna ask you again.” Steve held her by both arms, not letting her move. “That’s enough, Steve, stand down or I’ll punch you back into the ice,” I grabbed onto his shoulder and with a stiff movement he let go of her.

Natasha’s eyes quickly found mine and a mute thank you left that look. “We know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists, the ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years. Know him up close, seen him, and spoke with him,” I explained as he was more intrigued with the story now.

“So he’s a ghost story.” “Five years ago I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran, somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff, I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me,” she pulled up her shirt a little to reveal the gun wound on her lower stomach. “Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye bikinis,” the subtle smirk on her face made me roll my eyes as she couldn’t look better in bikinis. “Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now,” Steve shrugged. “Only if you knew,” the look we shared with Nat was strictly for just the two of us to understand, Steve was just really in the dark about this.

“How do you know him?” Rogers turned to me and I sighed. “I first met him in the Red Room, he was kind of my trainer. Then when HYDRA got me, he was there. He helped me get out, but then they got him again. He is controlled, it’s a project they’ve been trying to upgrade for a while. It creates a super soldier assassin, I was almost one but he was there and saved me.” “This guy doesn’t seem that bad,” Steve said with furrowed brows. “They shock him, make him forget his memories, and brainwash him. It’s not nice to look at. He is deadly once he’s turned. But they keep him hidden,” I said, sharing a sad look with Nat. “Going after him is a dead end. I know, I've tried.” Natasha held up the flash drive. “Like you said, he's a ghost story,” she said as Steve took the flash drive from her. “Well, let's find out what the ghost wants.”

#gxg #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow x you #marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #stark reader #y/n stark #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #steve rogers #captain america

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ridetherain · 1 year

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Courage At the Front Part 1/2

Hi. I have Zelda fanfic for reading. It's been mostly finished for like, a year? I had a lot of fun with it and I learned a lot about WWII warfare. Thanks to the hubby for pretending his expertise in pre-industrial arms and armor also includes early 20th century tanks.

Summary: Zelda is a mechanic and Link is a tank operator in Hyrule's WWII equivalent. And our two heros get trapped together behind enemy lines.

Warnings: This is a WWII fic. It has crude language, descriptions of frontline warfare and it's aftermath, slight gore and major character injury. And gallows humor, cause they're soldiers in war and they gotta live through it somehow.

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Part 1

Zelda

"I want to do something real!"

Zelda was screaming at her father over the phone. She was breaking every one of her rules. No using royal privilege; how else was she going to get access to a phone? No subverting the chain of command; well, she had gone directly to the King. That might have skipped a few rungs on the ladder. Act like any other enlisted man; and screaming at the King is unlikely to be the standard operating procedure. Zero for three.

"I've been trained to fix anything! I was best in my class! Jeeps for the brass are not a priority. I should be with the troops and I should be serving my country in the best way that I can. Isn't that why I'm here?"

All the wind had blown out of Zelda's sails by the end of her argument. She was getting nowhere with the King. He wasn't going to lift his order to keep her safe and he certainly wasn't going to send her to the frontlines himself. She'd trained to fix the heavy infantry tanks that were stationed all over the eastern front. She was the best. No one was faster or understood more intuitively what needed to be done. But, instead, she was fixing jeeps that the Generals treated like pleasure vehicles. They'd come in with no gas and tell her it was broken or they'd need their goddamn wipers replaced. It was insulting.

"Nevermind, father. I'm going to get back to work."

She hung up and went back to her command. Which was a small motor pool with a squad of mechanics. Technically she was due a larger command, but no mechanic this far from the fighting should have her rank. The boys didn't really need her there at all, truth be told. General Impa was a micromanager and their shop ran like a civilian auto repair anyway.

Link

Link huddled into his small corner of home in the trench. He'd cleaned it up nice so there was a small divot dug into the wall so rain wouldn't ruin his small collection of keepsakes. Right now he had a little journal to write in, some playing cards, and a letter from some school kid who informed him "Mr. Owlen says I have to tell you that you're brave" which was charming enough to keep. He'd smoothed the ground beneath his feet so that he had comfortable dirt to sleep on and his trusty rifle settled over his shoulder digging into yet another dug-in divot in the wall. All-in-all he'd dressed it up to be the nicest spot in the line.

His squad had been stationed here for two weeks so far with very little else to do. At some point they would probably jump up and storm the enemy, but he tried not to think about that. He was too young to die. He tried to keep some dirt on his face at any moment. He wasn't technically old enough to enlist and anything that kept people from really looking at his face was a plus. It was easier before. He was the loader on a medium tank with only four other men for company. But then the gunner got his points and was sent home leaving the rest of them a man down. He'd gotten orders an hour ago to report to the depot to be assigned to a new crew in the morning. Until then, he'd be hunkered down here in this cesspit trying to get some shuteye and stock up on "supplies" that weren't part of the standard kit. Dirty pictures, booze, and hopefully some real food.

Zelda

"Lieutenant! Call for you, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Private."

Zelda took up the office phone and snapped out a greeting. She was losing another man. Pretty soon she was going to be running this place alone. Apparently heavy fire was anticipated and they needed another mechanic on hand familiar with the newest combat vehicles. She took up her roster to see who had the best qualifications for the job. If they were calling up someone from here it would be a rough job. She ran her finger down the list and stopped at a name. Could she do that? There was an obvious implicit order, but it wasn't actually said. She had free reign to send whoever she chose. Who could stop her decision? They were leaving soon.

She scribbled out the order, updated the roster list, filled out the daily report, and marked the next in command. She would leave immediately. Her duffle was already supplied for departure and she grabbed a go-kit with essential tools. The truck was already nearly loaded up with supplies and her driver was climbing in.

"Ready?" She called to the back when she was settled.

"Ready!" the loaders confirmed.

"Move out!"

The driver pulled out of the compound and they were on their way to the front. He glanced at her, but clearly eyed her epaulettes before deciding to keep his mouth shut.

Link

Link settled into his position in the turret. They were buttoned up and already getting ready for a fight.

"Load up, gimme seven five!" The new commander Burlon called from his spot above him in the radio seat. Link slithered down to the floor and started pulling up the armored cover and pulled out the smooth munitions. Burlon was calling out directions to Dalt to position the gun. The ammo was loaded and the gun was ready in seconds.

"Up!"

Burlon called out the fire and Link pulled up the next load. He was fast and being small made it easier for him to get into all the little hideaways where any spare air was filled with ammo. The place stank up quickly with the sweat of five men in tight quarters. It was hot as ever and beads of sweat ran freely down his back. Only his hands were kept dry with any spec of spare cloth to be found. He couldn't afford to drop something. One store empty, Link closed it up and moved to the next in an awkward spot beneath his gunner's butt.

"Move your ass, Dalt. I can't get in."

Not quite a well oiled machine just yet, this new crew.

"Fuck you. I gotta aim."

"Quiet. All of you," The commander was looking through his scope, "HEAT! Take us back!"

Burlon's frantic calls on the radio blurred into the background. Anti-tank guns. Link scrambled to lock away all the mortars. Easiest way to kill a crew was to blow them up with their own gun. The tank rocked roughly in the retreat and Link banged his jaw against the bottom of his seat. He let out a slew of curses and braced against the top cage.

"Back in your seat, soldier!" Burlon ordered.

Still cursing, Link threw himself into his seat and threw a hand up to check his face. It came away bloody.

"Incoming!" As one, the team bent and braced for impact.

Zelda

"Okay team, the enemy is retreating. We need to get out and salvage what we can. Level one and two damaged vehicles will be handled by the first division. Level three damage is us. We'll work from near to far."

Zelda nodded to her partner and began running to her assigned vehicle. A Farore Mk IV about a mile away that's likely still in good enough condition to at least drive. The field was a mess of tracks and mud and empty casings. Burn marks scorched across huge stretches of land where shells exploded. Zelda tried not to see the remains left behind. The wounded and dead were attended already, but sometimes things were left behind. A half burned boot was stuck in the mud and Zelda pretended it's because the soldier decided to take off his shoe. She knew these soldiers were fighting for their homes and their families, but it felt like they were fighting for her as the Princess. She would face the cost when she wasn't working. When she had time to process.

She stopped with her partner, a big Private who could do some of the heavy lifting, when they reached a potential salvage.

"What do you think, ma'am?" He circled and shook his head.

"I don't think so, let's keep going. We can't drive with the track looking like this." It was mangled. "Avoid that next one, it's still smoking."

"It should be alright, let's look real quick. See? The smoke is coming from the front. Probably just overheated." Zelda wavered and the Private took his chance.

"It'll take less than a minute to check and then we can move on."

Zelda sighed and gave a nod. He was older and more experienced for all the rank difference. They crept to the tank and began an exterior inspection. Smoke was lightly billowing from the front so Zelda moved around to the back to ensure that whatever was smoking wasn't coming out another side.

Everything looked fine in the back except another pair of boots under the chasis. This time, the boots still had feet in them.

"Hey! Wounded!"

Zelda pulled on the boots and a soldier slid free with a squelch. She yanked his shirt out of the way and thrust her hand to his throat for a pulse. It was strong and steady. The Private was working the portable radio frantically.

"Lieutenant! Incoming troops! We have to find shelter!"

"What?!"

"I'm going in!"

"What?! NO! It might not be-"

An explosion cut her off. The opened hatch let in a rush of oxygen and ignited the dying fire within the tank body. Zelda threw herself over the unconscious man. She held on for dear life and clamped her eyes shut. Her ears rang and her head blurred, the heavy armored vehicle rocked ominously in her direction. The enemy was coming. She never learned her partner’s name. The man below her would die if she didn't recover quickly enough. What next? She could hear them coming. A dull rumble turning to a roar. Men shouting.

She shoved the wounded man back under the chassis where she had found him and squirmed into the mud beside him. She prayed to all the goddesses that they would take the smoking remains of this tank as reason to pass it by. Prayed that it wouldn't continue to explode above her. Prayed the man next to her didn't die while she laid in a grave next to him. Just in case, she kept her hand on his throat to feel his pulse throb in a steady, comforting rhythm.

Link

His head ached. A terrible ringing grayed out his vision. His body was hot and cold and hot and cold. His throat was full of smoke and death and weight. And damp. A wet, hot, muddy hand was pressed against his throat. He breathed in quickly then was cut off from shouting when the dirty hand shot up to his mouth.

"Shh!" He couldn't see the shusher, "They'll hear you."

It was a woman's voice. Link tried to take stock of the situation, but there wasn't much to go on. He was lying in a drying puddle of mud under what was likely his tank with a woman. If it weren't for the mud it might have been on purpose. And if his head didn't feel like it had been split open by a hatchet.

"What happened?" His words were slurred.

She didn't answer immediately. "We were overtaken."

Enemy territory. Okay. There was a process for this. Hide. Get somewhere safe. Take stock. Gather supplies. Make your way back. Don't get caught.

"Did you work on this hunk of garbage, Sargent?"

"Yes, ma'am. Loader in the hole."

"Okay. Then here's what we're going to do. The M4A2 at two o'clock looks in alright condition from here. We'll take shelter inside until we can come up with a better plan or until we can get it running and make a break for it."

"That's a Zora tank. I've never-"

"Me, either. Can you walk? You hit your head, I think."

"I think so. It's not far."

He really wasn't sure. The woman, a Lieutenant, seemed to have a plan which is a sight better than he had so he would just have to make it. The mud squelched and slurped noisily with every extracted limb. A cool breeze nearly froze him to the bone after so long in the damp. The Lieutenant steadied him with one hand and kept a grip on a metal box with the other. He thanked the Goddesses when he realized it was a mechanic's toolbox. She carefully picked her way through the supplies they had strapped to the back of the vehicle and grabbed the med kit and a small bag of foodstuffs. Link grabbed his personal pack and slung it over his shoulder with his rifle.

They set out across the field with furtive glances in the direction their camp used to be back when it wasn't completely deserted. The ground was rough and packed hard from the heavy machinery driving over the ground. A faint smell of dead hung suffocating in the air and kept Link light-headed the entire journey. He hung his head to the ground and followed the woman blindly into danger. They stuck together from one safe cover to the next. She stepped carefully around any unknown piece of metal on the ground and avoided bloodstained dirt like it was contagious. She was basically unarmed and unfamiliar with a battlefield and squeamish on top of it all.

"You green?" he asked.

"No" was the clipped reply. He reached out to her anyway and pulled her up short.

"Listen, Lieutenant Bospho-" He squinted at her name patch. "Bosphor--... Lt. Bosso. Listen Bosso, I've been active for a while and I'm the one with a rifle. I'll take point."

She looked very upset. Either she wanted to lead the way because of her greater rank or she disagreed with his butchering of her name. It's not his fault her name didn't fit with standard sized lettering. He let his grip on her sleeve tighten and pulled her behind him before striding forward carefully and tugging gently at her sleeve in a silent command to follow. She didn't think of an objection before they were moving, but Link heard her mouth click shut. It hardly mattered, superior officer or not she was a mechanic and likely didn't carry anything more than a pistol if she had any weapon at all. He was trained and was at least used to the leftovers in a field. His hands were already bloodied.

Their pace picked up with him in the lead. He marched confidently through the mud, avoiding bloodstains for his delicate companion, and arrived at the Lanayru tank shortly. He circled the machine once to look for smoke. The turret hatch was open so there was unlikely to be anything smoldering inside. Lt. Bosso hauled herself up to the top and flashed a torch into the hole. As it happened, she did carry a pistol, and was comfortable enough with it to wield it alongside the torch.

"No one's home. Let's get in and rest for a bit. I wonder if they've got a decent map in here."

Link pulled himself up and slid in after her. She shuffled her way into the driver seat and he slid neatly into the gunner's . This thing had elbow room. Maybe he should have lied about his age and his home province. This would have been nice. It gave him the room to eye the Lieutenant's shapely behind from several excellent angles while she found her seat. He was still considering his luck when she finally put her butt down in a chair.

"So, Sargent Forrester. Let's figure out what's next."

Zelda

Sargent Forrester was rude and brash but kindly enough. His stumbling over her name was fairly rude and Zelda wasn't sure how he didn't recognize it. His behavior bordered on insubordination, but she was grateful that one of them knew what to do at least. She could plan all she wanted, but none of this was like boot camp and certainly unlike anything she had seen in her year of service. She ignored him as best she could when they got in the Lanayru M4A2 and immersed herself in the parts she could see from the driver's seat. The most obvious problem was a misaligned periscope, but there was likely something more wrong with it or it wouldn't have been abandoned like this.

She opened her baggage to see what they had to work with. Extra rations would have been nice, but instead there were perishable goods that had the faint smell of smoke wafting out of the first bag. Probably three or four meals worth for each of them. A field medical kit with little more than trauma bandages and some morphine. If things got that bad they were dead for sure. Her kit was undamaged but was designed to repair Hylian machines. The small kit from under the co-driver's seat would be more useful. Her own pack had some rations and a similar first aid kit supplemented with alcohol.

"What's in your bag, Forrester?" she asked. Maybe he had something of use.

He settled further into the gunner seat and closed his eyes.

"Standard pack. Rifle. Canteen. First Aid. Shovel. Ammo. Pistol. Rations. Blanket. Cigarettes. Ma'am."

Technically not insubordinate. The lists soothed her frazzled nerves. When in doubt, make a list. When the air smells of death and sweat and burning rubber, make a list. When you've seen bloody spots on the ground where your subjects lay dying, make a list. When you're locked in a tank with a stranger with a gun, make a list.

To be fair to Sgt. Forrester, he seemed trustworthy. He was rude and gruff, but followed her where she wanted to go and was clever enough to inspect the machine before he just climbed in like her dead partner. She just left his body there. She didn't even look to see if there was anything she could salvage for his family. Self-recrimination ate her from mind to heart.

"Are you alright?" Sgt. Forrester had come up to her from behind without her noticing. His eyes were soft and concerned and scanned her head to toe. He seemed to be assessing her physical and mental condition with one efficient glance. He didn't seem satisfied with the results when he was done. His hand hovered over her shoulder for a moment before retracting back to his knee. "Is this your first time out? There's no shame in snapping your cap looking at all this. I wouldn't judge you for crying even, the Goddess knows I've wanted to more than once."

Zelda didn't want to feel better. She wanted to curl up and wallow in self-pity. But he was kind and she couldn't help but be comforted by his words. She gave him a wan smile and gave herself a little shake.

"I'm fine. Thank you," she said a little more prim than she had planned, "This is my first day out, but I've been in the service for almost a year. I didn't expect... Well I thought it would be different. I've never been to the front before."

"Little more than the front, I reckon. We seem to have wandered past the front and into the back again. This hunk of metal gonna get us back? I've never been in a tube so roomy. We could..." he glanced at her and changed what he was going to say, "We could throw a party in here."

"Yes, well. There's definitely a few things that need fixing. We'll be here overnight at least. Might need to look for some replacement parts. I'll know more when I open her up." Zelda replied. She thought for a moment then thrust her hand in his direction. "I'm Zelda. What's your name?" She wasn't going to miss another name.

"Link, ma'am."

They shook. Link's hand was warm.

Link

Zelda was a surprisingly good mechanic. She pulled apart the busted periscope and spilled metal innards across the ground like the first slice into a pot pie. It didn't seem like a complicated piece of equipment until he saw all the pieces dumped unceremoniously on the floor of the otherwise pristine cabin. She poked at one of the mirrors with a wrench she pulled from her bag until she was satisfied. Link thought it looked exactly the same as when she started poking at it, but she's the expert.

She bent over nicely to see the track the periscope swivelled on to view side to side. Since her back was turned, Link let his eyes wander over the view she provided. So it was a surprise when a loud clang echoed through the still cabin. It rang like a bell for a moment before Zelda reeled back and whacked the track again with a hammer that had appeared in her hand while he was distracted.

"What are you doing?!" Link asked incredulously, "You're gonna break it!"

She ignored him and reeled back where he caught her hand before she could thrust forward and hit the track again.

"Hey!" She screeched, "Let go! It's almost fixed!"

She yanked against his hold and he tightened his grip.

"You can't do that! What if it breaks? We need that periscope so I can see while I drive this thing back."

She stopped flailing against him for a moment and he suddenly noticed their position. He was holding her arm over her head and had pulled her by the waist to press her back flush against him. There was very little space between them and it was completely inappropriate, but if he loosened his grip she might hit the hull with her hammer again. Or him. Either way, he kept his grip tight and imagined she didn't feel soft and plump and warm. She didn't seem to be having the same problem.

"You drive?! I'll be driving."

"You? I know how to drive these things. You're just a mechanic. You'll be on the radio."

"No, I'll be driving. No one is going to be on the radio. You will be sitting in the back and manning the gun. I can't shoot that thing and there's no way we're getting back without alerting the enemy. When we've crossed the lines then I'll man the radio."

Right. That made sense. He released her body and immediately used his hand to push the hair out of his face. He needed to find out how to fire this thing quickly. She used his lapse to throw her whole body forward and hit the periscope track one more time with all her body weight. She inspected her hack-job and seemed satisfied with the level of damage inflicted. The periscope was reassembled in minutes and she gave him a smug look when it swivelled from side to side smoothly. Minx.

"How do you boys sleep in this heat? I know sometimes you're in here for days. It's suffocating." She asked while sitting down delicately in the drivers seat. It was strangely feminine compared to the way she trudged around while working. She clasped her hands and draped her legs elegantly to the side as if they were sitting in a nice restaurant instead of huddled in a tank beyond the front.

He shook himself. "We don't. I usually sleep on the ground outside. But, we'll have to keep buttoned and tough it out in here. "

Link tried to seem nonchalant as he unbuttoned the first few buttons on his uniform and removed his boots. Every movement felt unrefined compared to her effortless presence. It was going to be a long, hot, uncomfortable night. The width of the cabin wasn't wide enough to lay completely flat, but it was close. He couldn't remember a time that he wished he was shorter. Zelda wasn't faring much better. She was a little taller than him and seemed reluctant to sleep sitting against the wall as he was preparing to do. He mostly didn't watch as she pulled off her shirt to reveal a white undershirt and remarkably toned arms. Link suppressed a smile when she bundled it into a cushion for her distracting bottom. Zelda's shoulder brushed his before he realised that the only place for her to sit was squished next to him, jammed into the console and with her feet pressed against the small step on the other side into the turret. She was soft and warm against his side. He pulled his bandana off his head and offered it to her. Anything to keep her soft hair from brushing him all night long and shifting his dreams to images of her.

Part 2

#rainworks #loz #legend of zelda #zelink #zelda

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yallemagne · 1 year

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God fucking dammit why are the Quincey II WWI posts coming back.

Oh my god write a fucking fanfic you guys, I don't have time to play into your little thought experiment of "wouldn't it be upsetting if a boy has to suffer through a remorseless war". I'm not gonna fuckin' humour this until one of you makes it an interesting idea.

And I know my opinion doesn't really matter, but I'm sick and tired of it. It's very easy to flesh out an idea past the "you know it would be sad if" stage, I did it with Jonathan fucking dying and Quincey II growing up without a father. DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR HEADCANON PLEASE FOR GOD'S SAKE.

Also Jojo did it first. Jonathan and Erina's son, George II, named after Jonathan's father who was stabbed trying to protect him, went into WWI as a pilot and was killed trying to stop a vampire who was among the high-ranking officers.

FUCKIN DO SOMETHING AS BARE-MINIMUM AS LAYING THAT OUT! I'M SO TIRED OF "Quincey II... is drafted... uh? horrors? being kinda supernatural plays in maybe... it's very sad I swear".

Do something creative. You know that soldiers survived WWI, right? You know it wasn't all just trenches, right? You know that Arthur could pull strings to at least get Quincey in a position where he's not on the front lines, RIGHT??

But you don't know because you haven't thought past the idea of "war is sad". But why would it even be sad if Quincey serves his country? Plenty of people find it to be an honourable thing to do. People volunteer and people dedicate their lives to the military. The Crew of Light treated their fight against Dracula like a war to save England. I understand perhaps the Harkers are pacifists, but you can literally cite religious pacificism as a way to avoid the draft. You can cite "his uncle is super rich" and avoid the draft. Literally, the reasons people give for why Quincey would not be drafted are far more researched and interesting than "well, uh, I heard that there was a war once, and that was pretty sad".

They couldn't have possibly known how WWI was gonna be, they didn't even know it was gonna be the first of two world wars. So why then does the angst of this headcanon depend on these fictional characters (that, mind you, don't exist in a world where WWI is a thing) having the hindsight-fueled dread that we have surrounding WWI? They wouldn't fucking know about trench warfare and nukes going into it. They wouldn't know about mustard gas. So why is it scary? Why is it sad? I'm not just gonna blindly assume everything bad that could happen happens, you gotta lay out a PLOT, sweetheart.

It's like if, instead of writing a book, Bram Stoker wrote down "what if some guy met a vampire? that would be angsty, right? that'd be pretty scary." Nope, not invested.

#quincey harker #this stupid fucking headcanon again #dracula rant #rant

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sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins · 1 year

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This isn't an all-out headcanon for Hewlett, it has some canon legitimacy and can be assumed from Hewlett's dialogue, but I wanted to look more into this with a historical lens. Specifically, for this post, I'm going to look more deeply into how and why Hewlett has his Major status, especially when it comes to the meaning behind his nickname "Oyster Major" with his lack of seeing an actual battle.

One may assume from Hewlett's Major title that he rose in the ranks and achieved this after military training and years of being involved in the British Army. For my portrayal, this isn't the case. In terms of the characters of the show, I would say Hewlett has been in the military longer than Ensign baker has, but I would say some of the others have had more experience than Hewlett has had (Like Rogers for example) The way the British Army dealt with this ranks was through commissions. One (usually) paid a certain amount of money to rise in the ranks and based on this article this was seen as the best method to avoid corruption and "If you were among the ‘well-ballasted’, meaning one with deep pockets who lived a lavish lifestyle – then you were naturally considered well educated and capable of managing an impecunious peasantry."

With this in mind, if we consider Hewlett's upbringing: the son of a businessman, well-educated, well-versed in the classics, religious, and passionate in his trust in the King, he would be fit for such a high title. Granted, Hewlett went into the British Army to provide for his family based on the trade embargo that nearly bankrupted his father (I'm assuming this is around the Townshend Act), he didn't have as much money as before, but I would imagine his family still had connections and a good standing in society. They were known more than a farmer from a low-class family and in my own interpretation, Hewlett attended St. Andrew's in Scotland, so he had a college education under his belt that helped him gain more respect and hold up the title of being well-educated. His father likely fell on hard times and they weren't used to the fall in profit, but I would imagine Hewlett, or his father, had enough money to spend on a Major's commission. I don't see Hewlett or his family allowing him to be anything like an Ensign or have such a low ranking in the army with this educated background, but also for the profit he would gain from it. Hewlett would gain more as a Major and get the respect he believed he deserved with his background and upper-class living if he decided to be a Major. I also believe that Hewlett generally sees himself as suitable for an authority title with his "law, order' authority" line and the confidence he felt in using the gravestones in s1 against the rebels.

Whether Hewlett is suitable for this authority position, is up for debate. I feel as if Hewlett did go through the training for being a soldier (and with his background Hewlett likely already had an idea of how to shoot a gun and how to ride a horse and had the basics down), with the position he was in, but with being stationed in Setauket, having little army activity to his name before his role as Major, I feel as if that's partly why people talk behind his back with the other high ranking officers. He's in smalltown Setauket, he hasn't been on a battlefield before, and commanding over a small town of that size might look easy or not as respectable to some.

#( 𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 ; headcanon (( Hewlett ))#( but also not )#( idk what I was trying to do here but basically Mr Oyster Man is a man of privilege and used dad's money to get himself to Major status )#( pls enjoy my ramble this took longer than I wanted it to )#long post #// long post #long post tw

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mars-misc · 1 month

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Review: Partials Series by Dan Wells

Hello, everyone! (Salwa, aerkhastisnau!) - Target Audience: Teens & YA - Genre: Science Fiction - One-Sentence Summary: A girl named Kira wants to save humans from a disease and goes on an adventure enlisting the help of Partials (bio-engineered machines) along the way. The Partials series was a series I read when I was young, but have enjoyed it even now. I go back and reread it every once in a while when I feel like delving into that interesting world again where humans and partials are struggling in a post-apocalyptic world. However, as I have gotten older, I do see the strangeness of a 16-17 year old doing all that she has done. I will not spoil it but certain dialogue and the fact that she does things throughout the 3 books that none of the adults and smartest people in the surviving world have managed to do, does stick out to me as silly. But! It is easy to forget that she is her age and just think of her as an adult. So, I found that I can still enjoy it even now and here are some reasons why.

Character development is good. She changed throughout the books and doesn't remain static. Same with the other secondary characters.

Interesting concept of super-soldiers. This is probably the reason why I like it so much. The Partials, being what they are, are pretty cool! They look human but are grown in vats, have a link-system that connects them through breathing, command and rank is built in which can lead to problems because they are literally made not to be able to disobey orders from superiors, and they have the typical super strength, speed, senses; and highly intelligent. They are also built in batches of different models, making each model have a different specialty. From infantry, officers, generals, espionage, drivers, pilots, and etc. They are loosely a hive-mind concept and were treated before the fall like property of the US. Pretty awesome! I found myself wishing that we could delve into them more, see what its like in their "society" during the apocalypse. Just any bit more of information! However, the author did what was good for the books as if we went and dragged it out by showing all the bits about the Partials then it would mess with the flow of the story, probably. But, I want another novella that is set during the present time of the series, Wells!!

The story seems simple, girl finds cure. Incorrect. The 3 books are nicely put together and the cure thing is just a means to get to the real goal, coexistence. The books have ups and downs and inner plots and big plots. Overall, I enjoyed the flow of the story. The first book, I do warn is kind of slow during the first half, but after that the books keep up a good pace and add in little things that you don't see coming. I have a couple smalls mysteries though that I need answers to, Wells! Was it Skinny or Scruffy??? And what was up with the Partial that ran over to them and said something while they were high-tailing it to the bridge???? If I remember correctly, he didn't get to finish what he said or explain why he seemed to be almost friendly to the group.

Con, I did notice that some other reviews mentioned that the last book felt rushed near the end and I do have to agree with them. It has been a bit since I read it, honestly, but I do recall feeling like something was amiss. Like he was trying to wrap it all up and get it all finished and out. He might've been tired of the series and writing it or so. However, it wasn't horrible and totally fine for an ending. Do I wish there was more to read? You bet I wish!! What reader that enjoys a book's world wants to see it end? Anyone that said "yes", are you crazy?! Just kidding, just kidding!.....There better not be anyone that said "Yes". :P

Lastly, this book is pretty friendly towards young people and those who don't want crudeness and a lot of cussing.

As always, if this piqued your interest.... Go try the book out and come back and let me know what you thought! If anyone found something interesting or figured something out in the story, I'd love to read what you found.

Fahl!

#books #book review #book recommendations #dan wells #Partials #Partials Sequence #Book series #science fiction #scifi #dystopia #post apocalypse

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crackspinewornpages · 4 months

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War and Peace 50/198 -Leo Tolstoy

At 5 AM the army was still immobilized on the right wing, the left would be the first to descend and attack, when on Austrian officer made his appearance order was set in motion but they didn’t know where they were going in the dark fog and smoke, though, wherever they went were in the same company. (this doesn’t seem smart to send the army to face the enemy in the dark and fog where they can’t even see ten feet in front of them) They could hardly see ten paces ahead but conscious of the Russian columns marching in the same direction. After an hour they halted so the calvary could cross and fill in the gaps, in that time the army grew impatient and was losing spirit. An hour later they descended into the valley blind, shots in the fog, by nine the sun was just rising above it. Napoleon and his troops were closer than expected and he could see the center of the Russian army was weak, on the anniversary of his coronation he gave the order to begin battle.

At 8 o'clock, Kutuzof greeted the men of the foremost regiment intending to lead the column in person, but he stopped in the village of Pratz while Andrei was anxious and believed this would be his bridge of Areola. There was firing in the valley, the infantry filed by Kutuzof halted, they can't open ranks in a village. (seems like you should have considered the geography of the location) He sent Andrei to the third division to give his orders and report on the skirmishes and come back to inform him the troops were ready to move. In the distance the regiments were cheering and ran along the line of Russian columns who they were greeting approached rapidly a squadron of gaily dressed horsemen escorted by the two emperors. Alexander asking why he doesn’t begin, he’s waiting for the columns to assemble, it displeased him. Kutuzof explained the reasons is they are not in parade nor on the emperor’s field, (this is a war not a parade for your entertainment) but he gives the order he turns to Division Commander Milarodovitch and orders to attack and the battalions of Novgared and Apsheran file forward.

The fog began to dissipate, a mile and a half could be seen, to the left of the valley the firing was growing more violent. As they could see the French closer than expected, the Apsheran when it was all covered in smoke, a voice called it was up to them and all started to run. (come back you cowards) It was impossible to stop the fugitives, Andrei was confused at what was happening at the front and saw Kutuzof was wounded. Kutuzof went riding after the fugitives but was torn away by another mob. Andrei forced his way to him, Kutuzof’s staff was only four left as he ordered to stop the cowards, billets buzzed over their heads, when the French saw Kutuzof they fired at him. Kutuzof fell wounded so Andrei took the flag staff and rushed forward, the battalion following into the firefight. Distracted by the other soldiers Andrei was struck on the head and fell only seeing the sky above him and noticed how calm it was. “How it is that I never before saw this lofty sky? And how glad I am that I have learned to know it at last! Yes! All is empty, all is deception, except these infinite heavens. Nothing, nothing at all besides! And even that is nothing but silence and peace! And glory to God!...”p.164

By five in the evening the battle was lost, a hundred canons captured Prschebiszewsky laid down arms, other columns halved were in retreat, the remains were crowded together in Augest. The French were trying to cut down the retreating Dokhturof and some others made a stand. Along the dike were throngs of men pushing along dying and dead. Dolokof was an officer again, his regimental commander, the sole survivors, a canon ball struck someone behind him and in front the crowd just pressed on but stopped, the ice wouldn’t hold them and wouldn’t move on Dolokhof’s orders. A feild piece tried but his leg broke through and he sank to his belt the horses forced on it broke the whole sheet and forty men trampled over each other all while canons fired overhead,

On the hill above Pratz Andrei laid still in pain wandering where he was, he heard hoof beats and French soldiers nearing, it was Napoleon and his two aides. Andrei immediately forgot the words spoken of him having an honorable death, his hero was insignificant compared to heaven. “He was merely conscious of a feeling of joy that people had come to him, of a desire for these people to give him assistance and bring him back to life, which now seemed to him so beautiful because he understood it so differently,”p.167 They notice him moving and Napoleon ordered him taken to the hospital.

He passed out and came to again in the hospital as Napoleon came to inspect the prisoners. He questioned the chief officer, Colonel Prince Repnin, who identified Lieutenant Sukhtelen. Napoleon asked how Andrei was feeling but Andrei had no words, his hero was sordid in comparison with what he had learned. The insignificance of majesty, life and death, no one can explain. Napoleon left without an answer with orders to take care of them, Andrei’s medal was returned. He believes it all would be good if it were as simple as it seems to Maria, he would know where to find help in his life, what to expect after. Carried away he thought of his family, the battle, Napoleon, everything that happened bleeding into a fever dream as the physicians believed he wouldn’t recover, he along with other dying were turned over to the regional natives. (so Andrei had a near death experience and currently is in an existential crisis)

1806 Austria was forced to a separate peace by the end of 1805 Briton was active only in the sea the war, in 1806 assumes an armed truce. Politically the war continues, Britain with a blockade against the enemy neutrals, Napoleon forbidding trade, Prussia broke away and joined the coalition against France and declares war. Napoleon defeats Prussia in a month, occupies Berlin and moves against Russia.

In the beginning of 1806 Nikolai Rostof went home on furlough and had Denisof come with him to Moscow. Rostof was cheerfully greeted by Mikhail and the hall boy Prokofi, others rushed out of their rooms until all crowded in the drawing room. His mother cried in his chest while his father introduced Denisof.

The two slept until ten as everyone cleaned their things and brought comforts, awake Sonya ran away from Rostof as his sister Natasha talked to him. He asks why Sonya ran off, a long story for another time but she’ll tell it now as Rostof fell into his old world of childhood. She had him recall what happened before he left, if he agreed to marry her, now it would be like he was bound by his word under compulsion, and it wouldn’t do. (she loves Sonya and to prove it burned her arm with a ruler) Sonya was sixteen and still in love with him but with so many occupations before him he must remain free. The subject changes, Natasha is no longer interested in Boris since Duport the dancer, she won't marry and become a dancer. When Rostof saw Sonya again he didn’t know how to react around her but understood and quietly they thanked each other for love and freedom.

That year the old count had more money so Rostof decked out, seemed to have grown into a man separated from childhood, now a lieutenant of hussars. Instead of growing closer to Sonya he drifted away, a time when a young man prizes his freedom to do other things, there were others besides Sonya, he has time to fall in love later. The old count Rostof was busy giving dinner orders to prepare for the English Club in honor of Prince Bagration. He asked his son what he thought and sent him to Moscow to Bezukof’s for fresh fruit and gypsies to dance along with gypsy girls. (...sigh) Anna Mikhailovna says not to as she is going as you can get anything from Pierre’s green houses, and she wants to see him since Boris is on his staff. When asked of his new wife Anna’s face changed, he’s unhappy she pities him. Dolokhof, Marya Ivanovna’s son, compromised Helene after Pierre introduced them and brought him into his house and now he follows her. The old count extends the invitation to the club to him for a distraction.

March 15, two hundred and fifty English Club members and fifty guests came to meet Prince Bagration, the hero of the Austrian campaign. Before dinner Count Rostof presented his son, Pierre sat opposite of them and as usual drank too much but others noticed his change absorbed in some disagreeable problem it was Dolokhof’s intimacy with his wife and anonymous letters that the affair was a secret to him alone. Pierre refuses to heed both but it was terrible for him to see Dolokhof sitting opposite and something terrible rise in him. (Count Rostof had to know there were tensions between these two why’d he invite both is he that much of a ditz) Pierre saw it may be true but he cannot believe it, but he noticed the face Dolokhof wore often was now one of deviltry from his other acts. Pierre is afraid of him, he would think nothing of killing a man, so lost in his thoughts he didn’t rise with the others to toast.

Rostof asks what’s the matter, he didn't recognize him and Dolokhof toasts to pretty women and their lovers, (oh now he’s just rubbing it in) Pierre didn’t say anything. When Dolokhof snatched a cantata from him the ugliness rising in Pierre broke. Everyone was alarmed at his outburst and he snatched it back and felt the hatred of his wife widen irrevocably. Rostof acted against Denisof’s advice and arranged a duel the next day at Sokohiki, but Dolokhof had thoughts on it, “if you get it into your head that you are going to be killed, then you are an idiot, and deserve to fall; but if you go with firm intention to kill him as quickly and certainly as you can, then you are all right,”p.180

The next morning Pierre, Nesvitsky, Dolokhof, Denisof and Rostof met in the woods, Pierre had the air of a man unaware of what was before him. Two considerations his wife’s guilt and the innocence of Dolokhof who had no reason to guard a stranger's honor, maybe he would have done the same then is this duel homicide, can he get out of it. It was all set and Dolokhof confessed he doesn’t think this is a sufficient reason to duel but Pierre was in the wrong, Pierre agrees he was foolish. Nevitsky says he could apologies. “You know, count, that it is far more noble to acknowledge one’s fault than to carry on after to its irrevocable consequences.”p.181 Pierre will go through with the duel and had to figure out how to work the trigger.

After Pierre fired he stood still as Dolokhof stepped forward but didn’t shoot and he fell in the snow, arm covered in blood and begs that he isn't done yet. He takes a mouthful of snow and staggers up aiming Pierre made himself an easy target, (is he suicidal) Dolokhof missed and laid back in the snow, Pierre ran off in the woods and Nevitsky took him home. On the way to Moscow Dolokhof roused himself and said his mother won't survive this and had Rostof break the news to her. Despite being a bully Dolokhof was an affectionate son to his mother and brother to his hunchback sister.

Pierre rarely saw his wife alone, the house was full of company, the night of the duel he stayed in the room his father died in, he couldn’t sleep, how did it come to killing his wife's paramour. “Because you married her without loving her; because you deceived yourself and her.”p.183 From the beginning he felt it was wrong, he thought he was proud of it all then thought he was to blame for not understanding her, now found the answer, she is a lewd woman. She allowed her brother to kiss her bare shoulder but laughed at him and told Pierre that he’ll never get any children by her. (she’s a bitch) She’s to blame for it all, but at the back of it he married her, lied that he loved her, he is to blame and suffer but the disgrace of his name and honor is independent of him.

He’ll leave for Petersburg, leaving a letter that he would leave her forever, but that morning Helene came to him in a fury about the duel. She demands answers then says he believes everything he is told, that Dolokhof was her lover without proof and what has he proved by the duel, that he’s a fool, that’s what everyone calls him and now she’s a laughingstock. He drunkenly challenged a man out of jealousy, a superior man to him in everything. (I take it back she’s not a bitch she’s a cunt) He tells her not to speak to him, she yells that she has a right to and tells him any woman with him as a husband would have lovers but not her. Pierre says that he’ll kill her and comes towards her with the marble table top she runs off and his father's nature manifested in him. By the end of the week Pierre signed over half of his property to Helene and left alone to Petersburg.

Two months after the battle of Austerlitz and Andrei was reported dead but his body not recovered, Kutuzof wrote that he was a worthy hero. Unusually his father’s response wasn’t one of wrath and he stayed in his study. When Maria came to see him his face wasn’t sorrowful but wrathful and she could sense the terrible misfortune, the death of one she loved. When told Andrei was dead she felt joy and forgot her fear of her father and hugged him begging for them to weep together, but he has her go inform Lisa. Maria wondered of her brother repented his unbelief and is in bliss. It took several times for Maria to try to break the news, she kept crying and decided not to tell Lisa and persuaded her father not to while she was pregnant. (I’m torn whether or not this was the right move you’re keeping the fact her husband could be dead a secret from her but also she’s in a very delicate state right now) The two hid their grief but the old Prince didn’t hope, while searching for his son he had a gravestone made and in a short time his health deteriorated rapidly while Maria hoped and prayed for Andrei’s return.

#war and peace #leo tolstoy #books #book summaries #historical fiction #romance #philosophical fiction

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

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Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words. “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #Sebastian Stan

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

The Worst Planet in the Universe

The “humans are weird/earth is space Australia” stories that are quite famous here usually have aliens reacting to how they think humanity or Earth is really strange and bizarre. So, I got an idea: what if people could react not to Earth, but to one of the singular worst planets in all of science fiction? Here, we have some of the characters of the Magnificent Scoundrels reacting to the planet of Krieg and its infamous Death Korps from Warhammer 40k.

Death Korps is pronounced “death core” not “death corpse.” Jeicher is pronounced the German way, as “yay-cur”, not “jai-cher.”

“In life, war. In death, peace. In life, suffering. In death, atonement.” -Final litany of the Litany of Sacrifice, recited by the Guardsmen of the Death Korps of Krieg when entering battle

The shuttle slipped through the dead and polluted atmosphere, shields raised to their fullest capacity to avoid the boiling streaks of orange lightning. The occupants of the shuttle stared warily out the window, still nervous even though their craft was in the hands of some of the best pilots in the universe.

“I still don’t understand why we’re here,” said Commissar Cain from a strapped-in seat in the shuttle’s rear.

“Well, we’re visiting planets from each other’s galaxies,” replied Admiral Vir from the cockpit as he and Solo desperately tried to avoid the lighting.

“Yeah, I know that,” snapped back Cain. “What I don’t understand is why we’re here. Out of all the planets in the galaxy, you pick this one.”

“You wanted to know more about populous Imperial Guard regiment homeworlds, and you said Krieg sounded like an interesting name,” muttered Solo as a particularly large blast lit up the cockpit window. “Starting to regret that now?”

“I most certainly am!” screamed Dr. Kril from inside the heavy clear plastic compartment designed to hold him when accompanying Vir off the Omen. “And I thought Earth was a death world!”

“Radiation levels are approaching 3,700 roentgan,” said Vir, crisply reading off the cockpit instruments.

“We’re all gonna die,” wailed Kril.

The shuttle’s communication system crackled to life, and a dry, toneless voice sounded over it.

“Shuttle B-77401, you are clear of the storm in twenty seconds. Please proceed to landing pad RT-556 at coordinates 66579. Radiation levels on ground are currently 1,500 roentgan.”

“I remember reading up on your horrible human disasters, and that’s the level of radiation the Chernobyl disaster had right next to the plant as the fires were still going!” screeched Kril. “I will not be stepping foot on this planet! If you have a death wish, that's fine with me, but I won’t be leaving the shuttle!” He crossed his arms and sat against the container wall. Vir and Solo didn’t have time to respond.

“Breaking storm now.” The lightning and horrible, swirling grey clouds cleared, only to reveal a scene of utter devastation. The land below was an endless expanse of grey and brown. Entire swaths of earth were covered with grey dust. Other areas were endless seas of irradiated mud, with ancient and rusted barbed wire, empty concrete bunkers, and long abandoned and corroded gun emplacements sticking out from the infinite brown. A few ossified trees, long dead, peeked up in places, the only signs of life, or what was once life, on the planet.

“What happened here?” murmured Vir.

“A tale of tragedy, and betrayal,” replied Cain softly. “Once upon a time, some 1,500 years ago, Krieg was a massive city world. The ruling oligarchy decided to turn their backs on the Emperor and rebel against the Imperium of Man. The commander of the loyalist Guard forces decided that if the Imperium couldn’t have the planet, no one would. But despite the unleashing of a stash of Dark Age nuclear weapons, the people of Krieg survived, and loyalist fought traitor in a five hundred year long war in the trenches of the wastes.” The shuttle was silent, imagining how horrible such a war would be. This singular civil war, on this singular planet, eclipsed even the most horrible of fights from most of their home galaxies. “Eventually, the loyalists won, and rejoined the Imperium. Ever since, the people of Krieg have fought in the deadliest of Imperial warzones to repent for their ancient betrayal.”

“Wait, wait, wait. There are people that live here? This isn’t just a military base?” asked an incredulous Solo.

“Yes,” replied Cain. “They live in massive underground cities, safely shielded from the worst of the radiation aboveground.”

“My god… there aren’t really words to describe that,” said Vir.

“Shuttle B-77401, you are cleared for landing,” came the voice of the controller. “Please wear radiation-proof suits. Commissar Jeicher will be present along with an honor guard to escort you.” The brown of mud gave way to a large, circular landing pad sunk into Krieg’s dead earth. The pad led to a set of stairs, travelling down into a set of heavy, sealed double doors, leading even further down into the ruined planet’s crust. On the pad were two figures, clad in greatcoats and gasmasks, flanked by a double line of soldiers. Vir and Solo set the shuttle down.

In the back, Cain had already pulled the hood of a radiation-proof bodysuit over his head, and attached an anachronistic looking gasmask. Over this, he donned an old and tattered Commissarial cap and greatcoat. Vir and Solo also donned much more modern-looking gas masks over their bodysuits, and went to the shuttle’s rear as Kril screeched about the dangers of radiation. With the quick press of a button, they activated the airlock and stepped onto the surface of the ruined planet.

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as they stepped down the shuttle ramp and came face to face with what they presumed to be Commissar Jeicher. He was wearing the same outfit as Cain, a Commissar’s cap and greatcoat covering his bodysuit and gas mask. Behind him was a double rank of soldiers, wearing grey greatcoats and gas masks, clutching their las rifles in the ‘present arms’ position. Next to Jeicher stood another figure, hands clasped neatly behind their back. This one was dressed in much fancier boots, and wore a cuirassier’s breastplate. A brown greatcoat was draped over the figure's shoulders, and Vir assumed it to be an officer. Jeicher reached out to shake each of the trio’s hands in turn.

“Admiral Vir. Captain Solo. Commissar Cain. A pleasure to have you on Krieg. I am Commissar Jeicher, and this is Captain Kust,” he said, pointing to the officer behind him. Kust offered a single, curt nod. “You wished to have a tour of the planet, and to see it’s capacity for making war. I can assure you, gentlemen, that Krieg is one of the finest planets in the Imperium in that regard. I trust you will not be disappointed.” As he said this, Jeicher led them down the path leading away from the shuttle and towards the underground tunnels. As they walked, a series of flashes lit up the horizon, followed by the booming of thunder. Jeicher raised a gloved hand and gestured in the general direction of the noise.

“About twenty kilometers in that direction, we have the artillery and live-fire drills of the soon to be 712th Death Korps Regiment. It is the be the newest regiment coming into Imperial service, and the thirtieth Death Korps regiment raised this month. They will soon be shipping out to Warzone Viclius in the Segmentum Pacificus to break a massive ork siege of the Viclius sector.” They reached the end of the twin lines of troopers.

“Right shoulder, arms!” yelled Kust, her voice (Vir could tell it was a ‘her’ underneath the mask now) managing to carry through both her mask and Krieg’s stormy atmosphere. “Left face!” The Korpsmen spun to face the heavy blast doors in perfect synchronicity. Jeicher inputted some sort of code, and, with a great creaking and grinding of metal, the doors slid open. “Forward, march!”

The group, followed by the honour guard, stepped into a large white room. As the doors closed behind them, various nozzles sprayed radiation-retardant foam onto them. The airlock process completed, the heavy set of double doors in front of them opened. Despite the decontamination, no one took their masks off.

The halls were quite familiar to Vir, but unlike anything he’d seen as a civilization. They were long, emotionless white and grey concrete bunker systems, lit by cheap yellow bulbs that still allowed him to see perfectly well. Endless, emotionless bunker halls. It saddened him. What a terrible way to live and grow up.

Through the long walkways, they passed seemingly thousands of Korpsmen, all wearing grey greatcoats, and staring from behind emotionless gas masks. They all blurred into one, and Vir was grateful that at least Jeicher, Kust, and their honor guard he could pick out from the crowd.

They reached another large double blast door, and the two Korpsmen standing guard outside snapped to attention. The group walked through, only for the three offworlders to stop short. The entire left half of the hallway was a massive clear window. Far beneath them, a full division of Death Korps Guardsmen marched through an utterly massive, hangar-sized underground hallway. It was an endless tide of grey coats and gas masks, the thud of their boots echoing up even past the glass of the observation deck. Tanks rolled past, along with smaller, two legged armored walkers.

“That’s the 122nd Siege Army. Newly formed. They’re shipping out to the southern part of Segmentum Ultima today,” said Jeicher. He made another motion, and the group, still followed by Kust and her honor guard, left the observation room.

They walked through more hallways, still stark and emotionless, until they got to another double door. This area of tunnels and bunkers seemed to have more Korpsmen around. Officers, wearing their higher, more polished boots and cuirassiers’ breastplates. The double doors opened, revealing a much more polished and refined room, made mostly out of metal. Computers clung to the walls, and workstations were filled with Death Korps soldiers, red-robed cybernetic tech-priests, and unmasked commissars.

“This is the central command room of this section of Krieg’s underground cities,” said Jeicher, continuing the tour. “All the regiments and supplies that are raised and produced in section Alpha-Gamma-551 are tracked here. As you can see, we have more than enough to outfit the two regiments this sector is raising.” They went through the room, through another series of hallways, and down multiple sets of solid but plain corrugated steel stairs.

“Here we have the underground munitions factories of Krieg,” said Jeicher, gesturing through another glass panel on an observation deck. This time, the windows led onto an utterly massive factory floor. Conveyor belts led to unknown machines, and churned out endless numbers of what seemed to be artillery shells. “As you can see, everything is completely on schedule.” Vir noticed workers, all wearing heavy grey suits and gas masks below. Some of them seemed to be… off, and it took a moment for him to realize precisely why.

“Wait a minute… are those children?” he wheeled around and demanded at Jeicher. He was met with the empty lenses of a gas mask.

“Yes,” replied Jeicher. “I do realize that many off-worlders not of the Munitorum or Mechanicus find the practice… distasteful, but-”

“Distasteful doesn’t even begin to cover it. More like abhorrent,” snarled Vir.

“If you cannot fight, you must serve,” intoned Kust. “All infertile males serve in the Death Korps. Most fertile males and infertile females serve in the Death Korps. Most fertile females and some fertile males serve in the munitions factories. Children cannot go to waste,” she finished, rattling off the practices of Krieg in a completely toneless voice. Vir looked like he was about to explode. Cain put a hand on his shoulder, and nodded towards the honor guard and their las guns. Noticing the mood in the room, Jeicher went on.

“I think it’s best if we go on,” he said. The group followed him through another set of hallways, and when Kust was out of earshot, Jeicher spoke to the trio of newcomers.

“Please don’t antagonize the Kriegers,” he said. “That’s why they have commissars, actually. To ease the transition between them and any allied forces.” “They deserve to die,” hissed Vir, still shaking with rage. Jeicher gave a mirthless laugh.

“Oh, they do. Their entire purpose, their entire existence, is to die in the Emperor’s wars. They want this.”

“Why?” asked Solo. “Why would anyone want this?”

“They are driven by one of the most powerful motivators in the world. Not anger, not love, not faith, but shame. Shame of their ancient rebellion. In the Emperor’s service, the Death Korps will pay any price.”

The group reached another viewing balcony. This one overlooked a much smaller room, where a group of children in grey overcoats drilled with small las carbines. Vir clenched his fist in rage, but said nothing.

“Present arms!” yelled an adult and fully uniformed drill sergeant from behind his gas mask. The children held out their weapons in front of them, many with as much or even more precision than Vir had seen of new GA marine recruits. Most of them looked to be no older than six or seven, making the workers in the factory even younger…

No. He did not want to think about that.

The drill instructor moved along the line of recruits (or children, if you were fortunate enough to not be raised in a post-apocalyptic militaristic hellhole, thought Vir.) The instructor spun and glared at one of the cadets.

“P-44271930,” he stated.

“Yes, sir!” replied the cadet, with the enthusiasm of a fresh recruit.

“What is your duty, P-44271930?” asked the instructor.

“To serve the Emperor’s will,” replied the cadet.

“And what is the Emperor’s will?” queried the instructor.

“That we fight and die!” Vir clenched down so hard he crushed the balcony bar in the viewing room.

“What is death?” asked the instructor.

“It is our duty!” replied the cadet. The instructor nodded.

“Very good, P-44271930.” He took a step back. “Right shoulder, arms!” Vir looked at Jeicher.

“They’re calling them by their serial numbers at that young of an age?” he asked, still fuming. Jeicher inwardly cringed. He suspected the esteemed Admiral would not like what came next.

“They don’t have names,” said Kust, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

“What?” asked Vir, in a ‘please, do try my patience’ tone.

“None of us have names,” replied Kust.

“You have a name,” pointed out Vir.

“You only get a name if you survive long enough to become an officer,” replied Kust.

“Really?” Vir wheeled around to face the leader of the honor guard. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“YH-5577933,” replied the man, in a completely emotionless voice. Vir threw his hands in the air, completely done.

“Fine.” He nodded at Jeicher. “Continue the tour,” he snapped. Jeicher nodded, and motioned them on. I have to get off this place as soon as possible, thought Vir. This is… beyond anything I thought possible.

I hope you enjoyed it. I find Krieg and the Death Korps are one of the most interesting groups in science fiction. Motivated by shame, they represent the worst humanity could ever become. However, they are utter badasses in battle. If you aren’t afraid to die, you can pull of some pretty heroic things. If you have any questions, comments, criticisms, concerns, requests, or want me to continue this story, please tell me! Have a great day!

It should be noted, of course, I do not own any of these characters. Vir and Kril belong to starr-fall-knight-rise, Cain belongs to Games Workshop, and Solo belongs to Disney.

#writing #story #humans are space orcs #earth is a deathworld #warhammer 40k #death korps of krieg

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