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Punt a Little Freak (0/500m).

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im not religious but ill get on my knees for you

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*leaves 'for a smoke' and comes back speckled with blood*

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" angry people are always looking for someone to help them direct their rage. "

#CR0WBARRED ; independent / private / mutuals only & 20+ only. single muse blog for: J.ASON T.ODD / R.ED H.OOD from the DC UNIVERSE. mostly headcanon based and various media influences. read all rules and information before following and interacting. tortured by: RINA, 28, they / them. personals / non-rp blogs do not interact.

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🢒 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧'𝗦 𝗔𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡 𝗚𝗢𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗛𝗜𝗦 ...

@pseudodead wants to know :

03.     car trunk. aiden doesn't own cars. in his prime, he travels light, only the essentials ( phone, wallet, guns, explosives, y'know. just guy things ). in his older age, before relocating to london, he's practically living in a car ( not his car, but his now ), as he's now back in chicago, where his face is too well known to risk checking into any motel, so what's left of his meager life is in his car: his laptop, his phone, his weapons with all of his ammo and explosives, his few changes of clothes ... and the last picture he took with jackson and nicky at jackson's tenth birthday party, a portrait of lena paper clipped to it. 19.     five most recent in contact list.  jordi, nicky, jordi, jordi, ray.

@hackxr wants to know :

14. computer home screen. he doesn't have one. he straight up deleted it. it's a blank black screen. his phone is his favored device, so his laptop doesn't have much personalization on it; it's not necessary, in his eyes.

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⬡▸ [ ... ] 𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗜𝗦𝗡'𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧. it isn't, and he tells himself so, in that gruff and stern ( internal ) voice that he usually saves for intimidating criminals. or telling jordi he doesn't want to eat whatever he just put in front of him. now isn't the time, but his subconscious reacts to it anyway; there's the tiniest little blip in his concentration, the briefest pause in diligently working fingers ⸺ a split second lapse, but he's not naive enough to think jordi, with all of his sharp reflexes and keen predatory senses, won't notice it.

he'll be annoyed about that later, though.

right now, his mind is taking a swift detour, shifting from simply patching jordi up as quickly as he can to ... making it tidy as was requested with a threat barely coated by the thinnest layer of honey.

「 it shouldn't matter. it usually doesn't matter. disappointing jordi isn't something new or scary or exciting; sometimes i upset jordi by simply going about my business ⸺ i look up and he's giving me that look. that look that means he's about to complain about something i never knew even could be an issue. i should be used to it. i am used to it. but right now, disappointing him feels like some kind of impossibility, unacceptable, despite the fact that i know i don't really have anything to fear from doing it, other than another verse of his bitching and ranting. i'm not sure how i feel about that. what the hell is going on with me ? 」

aiden doesn't spare the ruined pants a single glance, eyes focused on his own diligently working fingers, threading and stitching split and bloodied skin with the kind of care and precision he'd never bothered to give himself.  “   you're gonna ignore this, but wearing new, expensive clothes to go on murder sprees seem to be asking for trouble, jordi ⸺ especially on jobs you can't do alone.    ”

The look of triumph Aiden gives him, brief as it lives, is met with a steely eyed look that, by this point, the other man should know well is not a warning, nor a threat, but in fact a promise of violence to come. Eyes narrow and lips pressed together, his head tilted in a way that came off as predatory, even as he bleeds all over the both of them, as crimson spills over pale but scarred skin and drips onto the tiled floor. It's a look that usually means bad things are coming, specifically for those he's focused on, but -

Aiden Pearce is a lucky man, in all the same ways he's an unlucky one. He's caught Jordi's attention in a very particular, specific way that no one else before him has done before... And because of that, he was offered a very little amount of leniency. A little earned privilege of seeing Jordi at arguably not his best. A treat for being the rare kind of man that could handle everything he gave to him, and eagerly came back looking for more every time after.

"Right," The flat tone he uses matches the look in his eyes well, and it's almost a good disguise of indifference. Almost because he can't help but touch, bloodied fingers rubbing more incriminating evidence on his cheek. Callouses catching on stubble and dried blood. "Make it tidy, I've seen how you clean yourself up. Don't make me have to grade you on your performance, Pearce. Don't disappoint me."

The threat is hardly hidden, nor does it promise violence, but that was Jordi Chin. Always swinging from one dramatic mood to another, explosive in all things while wrapped up in a tidy, expensive suit. Speaking of -

Jordi spares his ruined pants a dirty look, bunched around his ankles like some kind of child. "Those were new. I'm not sure what the fuck happened there, but I'm never wearing new outfits with you again."

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This user doesn’t trust anyone.

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The Retr0.

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it still needs some filling in, but the new carrd is up with the essentials !!

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⬡▸ [ ... ]  𝗛𝗘 ? 𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗥𝗔𝗬 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗦𝗔𝗬 𝗛𝗘 ? the ' frewer ' ray left in the desert ... is a person !? the incredulous look marcus gives him isn't masked by any means; it's blatant, it's accusatory. it's complete and utter disbelief that anyone could be that careless. sure, he and the rest of the crew hadn't left together, but they all had a meetup point. they all know where to go, should they get separated. and here ray is, an unexpected guest amongst people he didn't know, amongst people this frewer guy definitely doesn't know, with no way of getting in contact with the person he'd made the trek out into the dry heat alongside.  “   ray, man, did you just say he ? tell me this isn't a whole ass person you abandoned in the desert with an tire gang you pissed off.    ”

shit. he remembered tobias once then got caught up in blume's bullshit again. is he still out there? his phone hasn't rang - no messages either. he's probably real fucking pissed at him - again. wouldn't be the first time and sure as fuck won't be the last. it's a minute before ray is able to answer, hesitation as he debates in letting marcus keep believing that frewer is an it and not a he. after careful thinking, he answers. "been stuck here tryna figure this shit out. forgot. 'm sure he's fine. ain't the first time."

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i am both the sacrificial lamb and the executioner cutting it’s head off

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⬡▸ [ ... ] 𝗛𝗘'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦. does this mean being a caretaker ? a nurse ? or is the this in question just jordi chin himself ? he doesn't fucking know, and he's not really too keen on figuring it out, not when he's got the man's blood smeared across his face and palm, while it's soaking into the fabric of his sweater and staining it maroon, rather than cream, while the bullet wound is still freely oozing more of it. he doesn't have the space in his brain to care about that right now.

「 and i really, really, don't have the patience for the grown man claiming to not be a child practically stomping his foot about getting patched up. don't get me wrong, i get it. jordi's an independent guy and prefers to take care of himself, but i don't give a shit about that. i give a shit about doing at least something for the guy that's making sure i don't keel over in this musty ass motel room. it's not much repayment, but i think it's a start. 」

things had gone ... not wrong, necessarily, but definitely not with their typical smooth efficiency. aiden isn't sure which of them mis-stepped, which of them had their eyes in the wrong place at the wrong time, but somewhere, somehow, there had been a crack in their usually titanium-strength defenses, a crack big enough to have injured jordi ⸻ jordi, the one who rarely, if ever, gets injured on their jobs, usually running support while aiden does the legwork. somewhere, they'd fucked up. somewhere, aiden had fucked up. jordi's rightfully pissed about it.

 “   i'm sure you can,    ” his voice is, thankfully, just close enough to his usual gruff grumble, his irritation buried deep enough to not bleed through.  “   but you don't have to, and ...    ” a short pause as he finally drags everything he needs from the first aid kit and sets about cleaning and disinfecting the wound.  “   i'm already doing it.    ” a triumphant little smirk, then, when he briefly raises his eyes to touch jordi's. they don't linger, but the silent message is clear enough: no amount of bitching is gonna stop me so save it.

@retr0foxtur3 / aiden pearce ﹥contract title: patching up wounds ﹥requested operative: jordi chin

﹥﹥﹥﹥would you cut it out? i'm trying to help you.

Jordi Chin didn't get injured. If he had a business card, that would the the subline. Jordi Chin, Fixer. Unkillable, Uninjurable, Reliable, and Clean. Crisp dark font on a clean white background, matte finish, none of that glossy shit. Because he was a professional, because he was clean, because he was a goddamn fucking legend in the field at this point and he was fucking respectable.

Jordi fucking Chin didn't get clipped in the goddamn thigh by a stray bullet, or followed home by The Vigilante for it, it didn't fucking happen. Except it very much so had, and he was dealing with the aftermath of it. Suit? Ruined. Blood pressure? Through the roof. Professional status -

Eh, that was probably fine. The only person who had lived to tell the tale was Aiden Pearce and he was...

Cold and wet from the rainfall. Irritated. A furrow in his brow and a cold hand pressed to Jordi's overheated and bare skin. Wearing Jordi's blood smeared across a stubbled cheek, and one of his typical ugly knit sweaters. Hat tossed - somewhere and out of the two of them, Jordi being half naked and Aiden being fully dressed sans hat... Out of the two of them, how the fuck was it that Aiden looked the most vulnerable? Bright green eyes with rain wet and matted lashes and a set to his mouth that was almost a pout, even as he snapped at him and snarled like he was the one shot.

Jordi considers strangling him, wrapping his hands around his throat to see his eyes pop. He considers yelling at him. He considers slapping him away and the bruise it would leave on his cheek.

He does none of the above, and instead forces himself to relax. (He absolutely needed to Talk to His Guy over this new softness, this new instinct to soothe instead of bite back harder.) "I can do it myself," Jordi says without moving, eyes on Aiden as the other man makes a mess of his first aid kit. "I'm not a fucking child."

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a [ character study ] of damaged goods with jagged edges. a glitch in the system. and what happens when you wipe the slate clean yourself, just to »finally« become what they always accused you of being:                                             — —— a problem.

COYO7E DEN ACCESS… GRANTED! INITIALZING… ♯ [!!!]» Programmed by tonik // Semi-selective; ♯ [!!!]» Mid-millennial & casual AF // 21+, MDNI; ♯ [!!!]» Inspired by Watch_Dogs, Hackers (1995), & Mr. Robot; ♯ [!!!]» Dark / suggestive themes likely, shenanigans definitely; ♯ [!!!]» Menu >              1) da7a              2) ver              3) dir              4) help              5) con7ac7 suppor7 ♯ [!!!]» Please make a selection (1 - 5) > _

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UR FUTURE FIX3R a mutuals & adults (21+) only roleplay blog for FIXERS from ubisoft's WATCH_DOGS franchise. will contain canon-typical topics including violence, murder, sexual themes, & more. featuring: THE WRENCH & JORDI CHIN.