metalzeroleader

[metalzeroleader]

“A better lookin’ one, at least.” Scowling at how easily the old man could read him, Jordan took another sip of his beer -- room temperature, like these English pricks preferred. The UK was like its own self-sustaining biome of ass backwards traditions. “Nah, Price. She just had a kinky side.” There is the hint of a simper as he sets his bottle down. “Not the sort of thing a convent girl like you would understand.”

“You yanks live in an interesting world,” Price ran a hand down the lower half of his face, smoothing over his beard. Letting his arm then drop down to his lap, he jerked his head at Sandman - eyeing off the fading bruise on the other man’s cheekbone. “So what about you, eh? Bit off more than you could chew with that lady you were talking about?” He flashed his teeth in a sharp grin. “Did the owner forget to put up a sign that said she kicked?”

[metalzeroleader]

@dareandtheworldyields

“Grinch was right. The beard does make you look less like a kiddie diddler.”

[metalzeroleader]

[Sandman understanding that J is not used in Russia, it’s substituted with Y. Yulia for Julia, Yuri for George, shit like that. He is aware. However, hearing Julia’s name has him unaware she’s using the Anglicized version of her name. He now presumes the Y in Russian is pronounced as a J in names.

So he looks at Yuri, who still registers as Yakov in his head, and casually calls out to him.

With a pronunciation that is hauntingly similar to the phrase Jack-off.]

[metalzeroleader]

[Sandman understanding that J is not used in Russia, it’s substituted with Y. Yulia for Julia, Yuri for George, shit like that. He is aware. However, hearing Julia’s name has him unaware she’s using the Anglicized version of her name. He now presumes the Y in Russian is pronounced as a J in names.

So he looks at Yuri, who still registers as Yakov in his head, and casually calls out to him.

With a pronunciation that is hauntingly similar to the phrase Jack-off.]

[metalzeroleader]

It's Sexual Sunday so...

send my muse inappropriate questions

flirt with them anonymously or not

try to make them blush

kiss them at random

send me terrible pickup lines 

get my muse hot and bothered 

Pretty much this is your excuse to do what you want to my muse and see if you can get away with it. So go crazy! 

[metalzeroleader]

It’s astounding how much this kid sounds like home. Her Cajun accent is thick enough that his Meemaw is understandable by comparison, and he cannot help but grin in spite of the insult. “Quel âge pensez-vous que je suis, fille?” he teases, mouth hitched up on one side. “I might not be in the best shape, but I’m not about to be anyone’s defan.”

@metalzeroleader

“Honey child, I admire your resolve, but the cut off age for active duty is still fifty, yes?”

[metalzeroleader]

@bonesofthe141

“I’ve gone without this so long, I don’t see why it’s suddenly an issue.”

[metalzeroleader]

Let her rant, let her ramble, let her lash out like a child. He says nothing, does nothing, simply keeps a dark gaze trained on her, this girl who meant to flee from the front gate. All her threats and her name-drops, all the myriad of guards she puts up. His silence is a coiled thing, a serpentine threat all its own that War can press too far and find that all along she has been facing the face of it, with fangs dripping, rather than the back from which she might grab and command it. So long as her words cross no line, so long as they stay bark without bite, he has no care to register it.

“Where are you going?” He needs no curses, the low rasp of his voice all the force he requires. Sandman can hardly believe this child act so self-righteous after her actions, that she present herself as suspicious and play that she is in the right. Running around a highly classified military base, and not able to understand why someone might try to apprehend her. As she pulls free of him, he steps closer, now looming over this impudent girl. He will not escalate this, no, if this is to be aggravated, it will be her strike. He can easily take her into custody, lock her arms and drag her through the main gate to be picked up by whatever adult had the misfortune of keeping tabs on her. Instead, he is offering her some way out, some way to make him have truly overreacted.

It is more tolerance than he has shown any stranger in a long time, and offered only on account of the girl’s age.

“What’s wrong with the front gate? Weren’t we going the same way?” Put her on the spot, force some honesty from those shifty lips. His cold voice keeps rattling around mouth, each spat with a plume of breath to accompany it. You do not just skulk about a place like this. He still has not seen any identification to say this girl has rights to be here. Were he not so fixated on her, unblinking, beryl oculi never shifting away from her form, he might try to call someone, get some back-up from base to corroborate or deny whatever she might say.

The name dropping. She knows men on this base, John’s protege and one of Shepherd’s boot-lickers. This does not bode well for her, to drop names and then go sneaking about like some kind of thief. How much has he given her already? Another name through Price, the confirmation that America is willing to lend its own to the 141?

Is she just a stupid rookie gambling on not getting caught sneaking back in after lights out? Unlikely, they still have a bit of time before there could be any repercussions? Is she AWOL and avoiding an ass-whupping?

Answers. He still wants answers.

War hadn’t broken out into some sort of sprint or anything. It had just been a simple jog to avoid being seen by the guard who was working the front gate. She honestly didn’t think the soldier behind her would do anything. War had simply assumed that he would just keep walking and head into the base. This is what she got for assuming. She should have fallen behind him and let him go in front of her or something.

She heard him coming up behind her, causing her to stop and turn in confusion. But before she could say anything he grabbed her arm and jerked her fully around to face him. He grabbed her. It took everything she had to keep from whirling around and clocking him. Instead, she grabbed his wrist tightly and gave him a hard glare. If looks could kill he, as well as the whole town, would be wiped out by now. In the MES, if you were being grabbed it was because someone wanted to hurt you. You never grabbed anyone, ever. She would have thought that rule carried over to the regular military too. You just don’t fucking grab people like that.

She was livid pissed now. “What am I doing? What the fuck are you doing!?” She tried jerking away but he had one hell of a grip right now. The fuck was his problem? “You don’t just fucking grab people like that you fucking psychopath. That’s a good way to get fucking stabbed.” At least she hadn’t immediately gone for her knife and started swinging. She had some self control. Some. Not a lot. “Don’t you ever fucking grab me like that again or so help me god I will hit you so hard that you’ll forget who the fuck you are.”

Probably not the best idea to be yelling at him and lecturing him when he looked pretty pissed off himself. Not that she cared. If he wanted a fight she would give him one hell of a fight. Who the hell just grabbed people like that?

Finally, she twisted her arm towards his thumb and slipped her arm free of his grasp. She didn’t run though. She just crossed her arms over her chest and continued to glare at him. “Well? What the fuck do you want, sir? While you’re at it, you should go try and get Captain MacTavish in a choke hold. Bet that would go well for you. Or maybe you should try and grab Pax next.” Her anger was slowly rising at this point and it was pretty obvious in her tone. She was desperately trying to remain calm and that came out in the form of sarcasm.

[metalzeroleader]

Send a ◎ and a question and my muse must answer, even if it's a secret.

[metalzeroleader]

It is truly stunning how quickly things could go to shit in Sandman’s life.

In fact, most of the worst events of his life happened with blinding speed, those blink and you miss it moments designed just to fuck you over. That medical diabolus ex machina that’s so quick as to be nigh-untreatable, the bullet from the speedy OpFor in the corner that some rookie failed to check, all the biggest issues in his life has been momentary failure followed by lifelong repercussions.

He feels like he is watching one of these moments, as the kid darts away from him. Great, now some unknown is loose and heading God knows where towards base. Was there some kind of security breach he didn’t know about, an intruder’s way past the fence? Was she reconnaissance  of some kind? He didn’t have any answers, so he knew he would have to generate some. The best way to do that, in that moment, was to take off after  the kid. He doesn’t cry out his order first -- In fact, the barked STOP is more an afterthought once his feet start pounding across the landscape -- too focused is he on catching the fleeing teenager.

This kid is in the tail end of adolescence, and probably has not picked up a cigarette in her life. Her body is obviously not scarred to hell and back. Really, it should be no contest, this girl versus a worn out old man. He is, however, still far from done. He has determination if nothing else, and he means to figure out just what the hell is going on here, hopefully before she breaks into base or something equally as wild.

(God, he could have let this go if she was turning away and running back to town, confirming she was playing some manner of dumb joke. She isn’t, though. This kid is gunning for somewhere, and it doesn’t lie behind them.)

The distance is cleared easily. He is close enough to grab her now, or else to overtake her and drag her down, tackle her with all the familiarity of the Friday nights of his youth. He doesn’t go quite that far, though, instead snatching her by the arm, trying to turn her to face him. He chooses to believe that if she does mean harm, he has the benefit of several inches and a fair amount of muscle over her. He’s a trained soldier, for God’s sake. If it comes to it, he can subdue her easily and drag her to someone in command. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Gone is the composure and genteel manner he has shown her before. This girl is an unknown, one clearly up to something around base, and he cannot rule out she could be some kind of danger. He wants something rational from all of this, not her rambling. He can only hope if it does come to that, he can find some answer, even if it is as simple as some haze in her eyes, some bloodshot sign of drugs to explain her rambling.

She was too coherent for that, he knows. But he can hope.

War shook her head and kept walking. It was frustrating to have to explain your identity to everyone like that. Her name was so out there that no one believed who she was. Brooklyn and Connor had it easy. War was fucked on pretty much every level. She still looked like a kid so no one ever believed she was a soldier and her name was so far out there that people thought she made it up. She refused to be angry about her name though. It was her name. She had earned it. If people couldn’t except that then they could go fuck themselves.

Names were important in the MES. You didn’t get them right away. You went by your number most your life until you were placed in your group. Then your group gave you a name. War was named when she was young for her aggression and overall attitude. It was a name she was proud of. It was who she was. A name like hers was normal in the MES but evidently it wasn’t out in the real world.

She could hear him start walking behind her again. He must have just snapped out of his state of shock that would have been obvious even to a five year old. Whatever. If he was just gonna be an asshole like Nikolai and live in a constant state of denial then more power to him. Whatever. She was trying to be polite and professional but he still had the nerve to disrespect her like that. Her anger was still clearly present but it was slowly starting to die down.

They were fast approaching the base and once is came into view she stopped. War couldn’t go through the front gate like him. She would be reported for leaving the base or at the very least, caught on camera. She couldn’t have that. She wasn’t allowed to leave and if Derek found out she was dead. She stood there, debating on her course of action for a moment or two. War would have to sneak around the back and crawl under the fence again. Glancing back at the other soldier behind her, she stepped off the side walk and into the grass. Her eyes darted over to the gate to make sure she wouldn’t be seen before quickly breaking into a jog, heading around the back.

[metalzeroleader]

Rule 1: Local girls are always trouble. It’s a lesson Price has tried to hammer into him for more than a decade. Maybe one day, Sandman would consider heeding that warning. Today wasn’t a day for miracles, though.

Sitting up from his rep, he straddled the seat of thee bench press, eyeing the young woman that certainly seemed interested in him. Smaller, dark, and doe eyed, one of his favorite types... Knowing he was getting ahead of himself, the soldier drew his gaze back to her face, offering a ghost of a smile. 

“I might be old, darlin’, but I’ve still got some life in me. Wouldn’t mind some company, though.” So long as he kept his shirt on, he was pretty sure this girl would stick around.

@metalzeroleader liked for a starter

“My, my. You look like you could be a lot of fun…”

Pru drew to a halt, eyeing off the soldier in front of her with a certain amount of admiration as he finished off a rep on the bench press. The blonde seemed to pause, head lifting a little to examine who had come over to bother him before returning his rather large weight to its holder. 

Looking for an excuse to get closer, Pru collected a towel from nearby and swayed over to him, eyes dark and almost predatory. “Please, darling. Don’t get up on my account. I just came over to see if you needed any help… working out…”

[metalzeroleader]

Here, Sandman had gone 44 years thinking he had a pretty good grasp on women. His track record fairly bragged of his expertise in understanding the fairer sex, in being able to communicate openly and respectably with his comrades. The old man’s sense of reality continues to pull away from him, high tide reeling back until he’s left with nothing but a desert and the distant memories of before the Atlantic went dry. The kid keeps on walking, and Sandman cannot even manage following her at first. He’s left gripping what remains of the salt sea, trying to reason what in God’s name had just happened to sour the whole interaction.

He hadn’t even said anything.

Confusion begets confusion. It’s not like he can very well abort all of this and cut off interaction, knowing they were both going to end up walking the same streets, entering through the same doors once they reached base.The city is a narrow hallway with one point of entry and exit if you were aiming for base. Having to walk it with this pissed off kid is less than optimal. He’s lost as a virgin on prom night, staring down at the growing stain on his date’s dress and wondering how that happened before he had even done anything, oblivious to how the homecoming queen beneath him could be enraged. Still floundering for something sensible, he resumes walking, hands shoved deep in his pockets, staring at the kid’s back and trying to understand the impotent rage of a teenager, trying to see past the perspective of one old enough to be her father.

Sandman doesn’t know what to think. it’s an uncomfortable feeling, one he hasn’t felt in some time. The six P’s might as well be his motto in every action he takes free of alcohol.

His footfalls are quieter now, not out of reservation, but general respect. The girl doesn’t want to deal with him. That’s fine. He’s not about to press it. It’s not his place to discipline someone else’s kid, and he’s especially not about to try and press someone who introduced themselves as War any further than he already has. A mouthy teen is one of the worst migraine inducers he knows. No, if there is meant to be further communication, it will be on her lead.

He cannot even find himself irritated. It’s Molly’s oldest swearing she is a vampire when she is 10, or his own assertions that his dad totally worked top secret military black ops when he was a tween. You build yourself up as something more when you feel like you’re nothing otherwise and defend your castle in the cloud to the death, textbook childhood. The only part that continues to puzzle Sandman is that this girl is surely old enough to have outgrown such boastful nonsense, or at least own up when caught weaving tales. Wasn’t she at the age where you started bragging about sexual escapades that were physical improbable and school shenanigans that like, ohmigod, totally happened rather than playing at supersoldier? For that matter, was she really pressing this Alpha-War-The Numbers Mason nonsense knowing he was a soldier?

All the man wanted was to get something to keep Frost complacent, not a walk home with some kid who was either delusional or posing in an attempt to look like more of a badass. As the pair drew nearer to the unlit road leading up to base, the sharply inclining concrete twisting up the snowy hill, he had almost succeeding in making his walking companion some manner of inexplicable background noise.

Wasn’t much she could say to that. She was just trying to get a conversation going. God. "Perhaps so…“ Maybe I would know more about him if my superiors actually gave a damn about me. She didn’t know much about Price or any of her superiors. They never took the time to get to know her. Maybe because they didn’t see her as a soldier or didn’t think she was worth their time. The thought was discouraging so she pushed it aside for now.  

War paused mid-step and turned to look at him when he suddenly stopped. "Something wrong, sir?” She glanced around, thinking he may have seen something but then the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She was what was wrong. The way he looked at her and the sudden change in mood caused her defenses to go up. She took half a step away from him. War was unable to hide the flash of hurt that crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced with frustration and anger. "Right…perhaps you’d prefer to walk by yourself then. I didn’t mean to intrude upon you, sir.“ Her tone was much sharper than before and her friendly smile was suddenly gone. What did she expect? Of course he would react this way. She could practically read his thoughts on his face. You’re full of shit. That’s what she got for trying to be polite and professional.

She shoved her hands onto her pockets before turning her back on him and heading back towards the base. Dick. She was extending an olive branch and he just completely shut her down. He didn’t even need to say anything. His reaction was enough. His face. His fucking face. He didn’t believe her. Not a word. Whatever. She didn’t want his company anyway. Why associate with someone who had already formed a negative opinion of you? She didn’t need this bullshit. Now she just wanted to reach the base and ditch this guy. She didn’t even know his name. He hadn’t bothered to give it to her. He’d rather just judge her and be a rude asshole.

[metalzeroleader]

[my kingdom for a price for sandman to marvel at.]

[metalzeroleader]

Price: Careless talk costs lives--

Sandman: you are fucking a russian do not even

[metalzeroleader]

He had already guessed that this girl hadn’t met John. She can’t be any older than the balding bastard had been when he enlisted, and he was a long way from the big leagues then. As a matter of fact, he’s sure if John knew anything about this girl, she would no longer be on his base. Any further rumination is cut short when the word nice passes in the same breath as Price. A snort breaks the tempo of their chatter, the blond shaking his head incredulously. “Good ain’t always nice. Price is proof of that. Whoever you’ve been talking to has been feeding you a line.” Nearly twenty years of friendship seem to flash before his eyes, a cinema of bad aging and even worse decisions on the homefront. For every time John has had to drag Jordan away from some poor decision at the bar, there are five times Sandman has had to try and use his southern charm to smooth over the Brit running his mouth and spoiling for a fight. Price, in hindsight, was far better at rescuing Sandman than the other way around.

Falling into step with the teenager, he felt his discomfort grow in the following silence. The girl was still too much of an unknown, and he had begun to wonder if he ought to have told her anything. For all he knew, she was one of Shepherd’s plants to see who could keep their mouth shut, or at least to see how anyone involved in the 141 would respond to set stimuli. A thousand outcomes unfold in his mind, too few of them producing positive results. Even if she wasn’t some kind of test, maybe she was just someone’s kid who had a weird sense of humor. It would make sense, with the way his meetings with other 141 brats had gone. 

Not that the kid at his side is a brat. Old terminology died hard--

Oh Jesus, she was so sincere with it. The kid offered up a bullshit name and a designation that Sandman had never heard before in any branch, even among geeks and brass. For one glorious, rare moment, the master sergeant was thrown completely off of his stride, coming to a complete halt in the street, watching the girl warily.

Either he has walked into some kind of Punk’d scenario, or this girl was the kind that also had God on mental speed-dial and considered tin foil hats the years must have accessory..

“I guess I just haven’t seen you around before then, sir. Better late than never, I suppose.” She gave a small nod of acknowledgement at the mention of Price. “I haven’t personally met Captain Price but I only hear good things about him. He seems like a nice man.” Honestly, War hadn’t met any of her superiors. She hadn’t spoken to Captain MacTavish, Captain Price, or Lieutenant Riley. She had met the Shadow company Lieutenant and Captain though, which was ironic considering she was loaned out to the 141. She didn’t let that bother her though. She had made some good friends. Truck, Chris, Nick, and Jay to name a few. Even though she had been on base for a while now, she still hadn’t met everyone. This meeting being the perfect example.

They kept walking down the road towards the base. It wasn’t too far away. It wouldn’t take long to get there. However, War wasn’t authorized to leave the base. If her CO found out she had left and had been hanging around civilians he would have her head. She was supposed to be apart of a top secret program and if everyday people saw what looked to be a teenager in the United States military, they would start asking questions. Therefore, War would have to sneak in the back like she normally did when they got close.

“I’m Alpha 104 but I go by War. Nice to meet you, sir,” she said, properly introducing herself.

[metalzeroleader]

Well, that was unexpected. He’s seen plenty of soldiers who are older than they look -- Frost himself stands as testament to that -- but there is a difference between Frost’s boyishness and how this girl carries herself. This is a child, no matter how you spun it. The revelation sets his spine straighter, derision coiling into his belly. The girl should be out running wild and driving through town looking for trouble, or at least a place to unwind. If she absolutely had to be military, happened to be of age,  well, she shouldn’t be any further than basic. Sandman knows the military has been scrabbling since Zakhaev airport, but there’s something ghoulish about the possibility of a kid so fresh being stationed anywhere near the elites. 

Perhaps the 141 is building upon its cover. If they are presenting the front of a training group, it stands to reason they would have a few grunts running around. Maybe she does’t know anything, at the heart of it? Or maybe Shepherd wants his smokescreen aware for the sake of opsec. The only way to find out was to ask.

Frankly, he got the feeling that such a question would bring up answers too personal for a first meeting.

“I’ve been here for a few months. My team’s here as a favor to Captain Price.”

She gave a nod. She figured that’s where he was heading. He must have just gotten stationed there. War hadn’t seen the man around before and she was hardly new to the base at this point. War had been at the 141 base for months, maybe longer. She had lost track of time honestly. War had been stationed there right after the incident with her last team, putting her on some bad terms when she first got here. Though, that had all passed now.

While she certainly was young, probably still not even old enough to join the military yet, she was experienced in the field. MES started getting loaned out to teams for battle at around fourteen, but War was one of the few that had started solo missions long before that. Not to mention she had been trained her entire life in military tactics and hand-to-hand combat. She could hold her own up there with the big dogs. She was good at what she did, even if it was considered unethical.

“Same as you, sir. Stationed up on the hill. You new or something? I haven’t seen your face before." 

[metalzeroleader]

Atlas technology offers a near 360 view of the training setup, but Sandman hardly needs all the angles to see the boy is ahead of the curve. It’s a fine break in the otherwise monotonous training day, watching Joker zip through the proving grounds with an overt finesse.

Cobalt eyes follow his progress with obvious interest, Sandman’s whole body leaning closer to the screen before him. Even Joker being met with an apparently unexpected fourth target isn’t enough to throw him off of his stride. It’s the sort of cool efficiency that Sandman admires in his fellow soldiers.  As the wild-haired young man finds his way into the next sector, Sandman thinks he sees the ghost of a smile on his face, if only from the right angle, if only for the barest moment.

The buzzing of the recruits is background noise, might as well be another world as far as he’s concerned. Joker doesn’t miss a beat, but is still focused enough to keep from shooting down the civilian targets. It’s more than Sandman can say for several of today’s performances. He tops off his weapons appropriately, keeps his head in the game. Kid can fight even without an EXO, which is icing on top of the cake for the old soldier--

It is a sad day when Sandman looks at the bare basics as something to be admired, at least compared to the shitshow he’s been privy to the rest of the day. As the beaming blond makes his way back around to him, Sandman measures him up coolly.

“That,” he intones, voice harsh, “Is how a professional operates.” When he shifts his gaze back to the recruits, it begins. The group shifts as if they were of one mind, a mass trying not to squirm away from Sandman’s apparent disdain. Some take up a look of irritation all their own, and their leader stares them down for it. They’ll learn respect, or they’ll wash out faster than the rest of them.

“Joker, approach my desk. Williams, get into the starting position.”

He has nothing more to say to these greenhorns. Most of them are going to fail out anyway, by his measure. 

Joker had readied himself as the elder man had reset the course, so by the time he’d hit go Joker was more than prepared, launching himself towards the first checkpoint with a speed the boy before him hadn’t even tried to reach.

The first few targets pops out and his gun is out in a flash, downing them quickly before he continues towards the stairs. Reaching the room at the top his flashbang is out in an an instant and he tosses it out with force, careful to avoid becoming a victim of it himself. One down, two, the third behind the desk. Shit, a fourth, he notes, shooting it twice to be sure. That was new.

Exiting the room, he’s down the zipline, back into an open area. Moving targets. He controls a smirk that tries to creep onto his features. It was about time this got challenging. He downs a round of them quickly, reloading as he waits for a ‘civilian’ target to clear of the hostile behind it. Down. Reaching the end of the area, he kicks the door in, clearing out the next three rooms with his handgun and a decent shoulder charge on the last. A nice change from the exo really - there was something satisfying about beating the crap out of something without assistance.

With a final push of effort, he bolts towards the finishing point, unable to control a wide grin as he regains his breath.

“Should be all targets down.” He barks to the man, fighting to keep his expression professional. As much as Gideons warning to stay professional had stuck, he’d be damned if it wasn’t satisfying to watch the expressions on the new recruits faces.