stallwartprotector-blog

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Snarky son of a bitch. Bertram might be amused by that, might even participate, if he wasn’t about outta his mind at present.

Was too unsteady to resist the insistence to be sat, not that Bertram appreciated the help. Tugged his clothing straight, more an excuse to be busy with his hands than caring about a wrinkle. “They do that? Just-, just fall outta the blasted sky?” 

Good gods. Alcohol wasn’t going to help this, not even a little.

Wasn’t even a good idea. Wouldn’t put it past himself to get most of the way sloshed and then putting his blade through the sides of this iron coffin. 

Up Above

“You know, there are other vehicles that can help you travel to other places,” Crowley muttered, leaning back in his seat and relaxing as much as he could while the idiot beside him continued to panic and sweat. Maybe if he pretended the guy beside him didn’t exist, or at the very least wasn’t a nervous wreck, he might still be able to enjoy some of this flight.

“A place to be hmm? My, what a detailed story you tell. You’re stuck in this thing for a few hours my friend. I suggest you learn to relax before we actually start moving.”

He scowled as the man got to his feet. No respect for air travel etiquette whatsoever. He grabbed his shirt, pulling him back down into the seat.

“Sit down!” he snapped, reaching up to press the little attendant’s button above the stranger’s head. “Just wait and someone will come to you. Though they might be somewhat busy right now, what with preparing a big metal container to fly through the air without falling. You storming up there demanding alcohol of them will probably not help with that.”

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Not usually this amused by an old piece of tail.

Bah. As if Bertram can even label this guy as something so crass. There’s something inherently pleasing about making him smile, about the way his eyes go a little bit shocked at every fool thing dropping from Bertram’s lips.

Can’t even keep from barking a laugh when he names Bertram as an exception, dropping his finger but leaning closer all the same, “Suppose I can call us square if’n I get a little sugar.” Truth be told, he’d be happy to ask for something a bit more hot and heavy if the ground wasn’t still shaking beneath them every few moments.

Further Contact

Christ was this man trying to get James to stop breathing cause that’s what it fucking felt like. The words and the touch of Bertram’s forefinger and thumb and those god damn words. Speechless yet again. Goddammit this man was going to be the death of him and yet here they were sitting in the middle of a crumbled street. His eyes focused on Bertram, not entirely caring if anyone decided to come there way.

“I-I wasn’t goin’ nowhere… just sittin’ up so I wasn’t lyin’ on the ground,” he responds honestly, almost stumbling over every freakin’ work he spoke cause christ the man was holding his chin and begging for a kiss. “I ain’t no hero… don’t always follow the rules of the superhero handbook….” he tries his best retort but smiling cause he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to kiss the man again. “But cause you’re so damn good lookin’ guess I can make an exception. What do I owe ya?”

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-

It was a measure gratifying to be back at the inn. Renning stretched for the ceiling, long and hard, before turning back to his charge, “Well, I believe that everything currently necessary has been dealt with. I must see to Reginald, though you are welcome to accompany me.”

The invitation slipped free before he gave such an actual thought, decorum and politeness showing its hand again.

In truth he’d much prefer some time alone with his steed, to just...to just decompress, to let the tension leave his body, to have discourse with the one creature that had been so constantly at his side, though glory and nightmare alike. “No doubt he would enjoy the added attention.” Gods, man!

Renning gave a smile even as his self-annoyance grew fiercer, just a gentle upturn to his lips.

Maker Made

Aoba ducked into the tent when Renning pulled back the flap, feeling much more comfortable being out of the crowds. Though as he looked around and saw what all was inside the tent, the various types of cloth and such, he realized that… he had no idea how to shop for his own clothes or how to order them from a tailor. It was always done for him.

So he looked more than a little lost as he looked around. To him it was absolutely fascinating. None of it really seemed to match up in quality with what his fathers rather ridiculous robes were made of, but he found he didn’t care. As long as it held up to travel and didn’t look like it was cut from a burlap sack he wouldn’t mind too much. 

There was someone moving around in the back that he assumed was the tailor, but even as he walked forward he was worried because he had no idea what to say or what all this would entail. When clothing had been ordered for him back home it took several days to a couple weeks to get them, and they didn’t have that kind of time here he was pretty sure. But he was so thin that finding pre-made clothes that would fit him… He’d always been told it was impossible. 

“Um… hello?”

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Renning felt a faint embarrassed heat, almost second hand, “I-, no. It was not my intention to imply such. I-, my vernacular is rather wanting, I suppose.” He smiled briefly, passing a quick hand through his hair, “Casual conversation is not something I partake of often, so I thank you for indulging me despite my-, my inartful attempts.”

When was the last time he’d ever had such an outing? Or traded words with any individual, even one not nearly so interesting? “But yes-, I can imagine how that would not make for very pleasant conversing. A man forced into the dreary future, his comrades long lost and fallen...I imagine it was an unpleasant awakening.” Renning could more than imagine, a bitterness that he sought to drown away with an even more bitter drink.

Existence

The trip to the bar had been spent in a lovely way, if Bucky had chosen to pick someone up just to have an amicable talk. Now that they were both drinking their beers, though, the former sergeant tried to make his mind up as what to make of the man in front of him.

He was enthralled by him, there was no doubt about that because the man was gorgeous, but again the thought of having to see him in a professional environment made him stop himself from saying something inappropriate. Just then, the man said something about his relationship with Steve and he was almost choking on his drink.

“Uh, no! Steve and I are friends, just that,” Bucky explained as his face turned red. Had the man picked up on his old feelings for the blond in the short time they spent together? “And no, we don’t talk about the war. Not really. There’s no need to remember the bad things; not when there are enough troubles right now to last another lifetime.”

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“Goddamn idiots,” Geoffrey huffed, spending a nasty look over his shoulder. “You’d think there were snakes in the walls, lord.”

Slid back a step to give Volke whatever room he wanted, not that the complete lack of expression on his face gave any sort of indication that it was actually desired. “But anyway, Bastian. He’s got some idiot idea for what to do about that fool situation on the coast, and he’s gonna try to hook you in. How much to hire you for me instead?”

That-, hah, that was actually surprise in those eyes, a brief furrow of his dark brows, “You’re going to hire me?”

“Right.”

“...So that Duke Fayre can’t?”

“Winner,” Geoffrey grinned, almost reaching to slap Volke’s shoulder. Resisted the impulse though, as he wasn’t sure if they were at that sort of familiar level. Which, sure, he’d had his dick in the guy, but that didn’t exactly translate to paling around with an international assassin. “Help me out, how much? I got a defense budget I’m itching to spend.”

Unecessary

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Renning’s cheer returned, if only at having successful redirected. “The internet, yes. To be honest, I am barley proficient in the working of that.” Forced indoctrination would strip some skills from a man. Exiled existence to a foreign country unfunded would make rebuilding those skills even less accomplishable. 

Oh, but those were terrible thoughts. Surely ones that needn’t be dwelled on when conversing with such an engaging man. 

-

Renning waited until the staff had dispersed, leaning forward to speak with Bucky over the glass rim of the acquired beers, “So, sir, if you are intimate enough with Captain Rogers that you are purchasing a bike for him, I must imagine you two are rather good friends? Enough so that mayhaps you’ve spoken of his crusades in World War Two?”

Existence

“Academy, yeah. Well, I don’t really like people jabbing around these days with their internet lingo and all that stuff, pal, so no worries there.” He probably sounded like an old man, and damn if he did, he’d kick Steve’s ass when he got back home for rubbing his manner of speech on him. 

Not that it wasn’t true, the whole internet lingo thing, but he was usually more cautious when he met random strangers he had his eyes set up on for a one night stand. Still, this man was 100% business so he began to wonder if it would be a good idea to go through with his thoughts since he planned on getting the bike for Steve.

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Bertram glanced aside as he pulled a cigarette from his pack.  “You’re burnt out. Happens. Some people don’t ever get that fire back lit.” Didn’t have the intention to actually smoke, but that didn’t stop him from offering the box. “Not a bad thing. Twirling a umbrella around is a skill set you can put to your own use outside of your little dress up club. Can make your own purpose if it comes down to it.”

“S’ just… when I took the job, I knew it weren’t the easiest job out there, but I was sticking around for my ma and Daisy and - ” He cut himself short and breathed, so he wouldn’t say Harry’s name. “- And now they have everythin’ and now I don’t know what to do with it. I thought being a kingsman would give me a purpose but lately it is just one big pile of shit after another and I feel lost.”

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Renning paused a moment, a faint tinge of unease surfacing as he gestured Bucky back towards the street, “I-, hah, yes, I suppose it does, at that.” He didn’t bother stepping back within the shop, the threadbare coat he’d worn in that morning hardly worth the bother. “And, I-, well, twelve, perhaps, but I speak more in an...academy sense, if you will?”

That was something prevalent in America? Military schools? Sure, that was not the same as Renning’s situation, but it was a decently similar enough. There was really no way to explain that the entirely of Renning’s childhood had hinged around the expectation that he would take both the crown and military in hand.

Existence

Bucky practically snorted at the asseveration. Of course, for a child to meet a hero would be like God himself had acknowledged his presence; he had seen in several times in the eyes of children who met Captain America: the awe and wonder of something they only dreamed about standing right in front of them.

“Promised? That sounds as if you were gonna get married to it,” Bucky blurted out with a grin. “Besides, how old were you? People around here don’t get involve in war matters until they are eighteen.” It was even more evident the man was not american, not that it really mattered.

[stallwartprotector-blog]

What folly it would be to go down that road, the bias and varied inaccuracies a subject that could span the entirety of a day.

“Irrevocably changing,” Renning assured with such deep conviction, steps swift in the manner of a man with suddenly much more important things to do than stride about a den of motorcycles. “I would not have been more awed at that age than if the Lord himself had descended upon the lawn.” The event itself was difficult to recall, though it had been a lavish affair. Perhaps the man’s granddaughter’s wedding? 

Nonetheless it had been such an amazing moment, the recollection enough to cause Renning to not actually consider the words falling from his mouth as he affixed the flags. “I was already promised to the military of course, or else that encounter alone would have forced my hand.”

Existence

Huffing, Bucky passed by the man to get out and rolled his eyes. “Well, history books are just made by shitty liars. They glossed over so many things I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

But then the man spoke again and Bucky turned to look at him with wide eyes. “You met Gabe?” He asked before he could hold himself back and a small smile drew on his lips. “It must have been one hell of a experience to meet a real war hero, right? I can’t imagine what something like that would have done to me when I was a child.”

He was lying, of course, because he had known a hero since he was a child, even if his hero was a child himself and half his weight.

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Renning pushed the door open as he came abreast of it, holding it so long enough for Bucky to follow him within. “Hardly. Unfortunately my knowledge of the Howling Commandos treads no further than what is made available in history books or dreadfully inaccurate documentaries on American television.”

The flags were but a few strides from the door, and Renning was not even aware enough of Esmeralda's displeasure to even offer her a show of false contrition. “I-, that is a lie,” he amended quickly, a strange giddiness in step and manner, excitement welling from some long buried place. “I managed to shake the hand of Gabriel Jones before his passing,” he couldn’t help the smile curving his lips, never so cheered as when able to hold conversation about such noble men, “though-, lord, I couldn’t have been more than a lad, barely able to hold a rifle proper.”

Existence

He hesitated for a moment, which he used to stare at the man as if he had suddenly grown two other heads on his shoulders. This man spoke as if he knew Steve from a long time ago, which was completely insane because Steve hadn’t been out of the ice for more than seven years by now.

Following the man with the thoughts still swirling in his brain, Bucky cocked his head and put his hands in his pockets.

“So, you know him?”

[stallwartprotector-blog]

The tree line was visible, the vehicle as well. A pity he’d not taken the moment to ascertain it’s level of fuel before coming within. 

There was no other movement though, no evidence of pursuit or of anyone coming near the cabin. Such was hardly something to trust though, with how heavy the snow had fallen.

He stepped out to James locale, partaking of another glass of water, “It may be in our best interests to leave today. Would you be prepared for such?”

Conflicted Nature

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“Splitting hairs there, guy.” Bertram leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping an aggravated beat on his bicep. “Might as well bitch about it, if you’ve a mind to. Not like the mark’s getting here any time soon.”

“I am not bored. This is my tired-of-the-whole-motherfucking-world face. There’s a difference.”

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Not gonna lie, Geoffrey had to pause mid stride. He glanced down at the man in his arms, this Querl, and bit his lip for a long moment, looking for any obvious injury as he continued on, “...Right, no-, no worries. Data banks are a bitch.” Geoffrey would humor the guy, no real reason at present to make him distressed by arguing. “But, um, did you hit your head? Got any history of concussions?”

So yeah, getting this guy to a hospital was suddenly priority number one.

Fallen Stars

Brainiac 5 fell silent as he was now being carried by the human. It was kind of strange really, being carried and all. It was nice though, it kind of made him smile a little. 

The audio sensors picked up the question, so he looked at Geoffrey. “I do. I am Brainiac 5. Some of the scientists nicknamed me as Brainy since it was shorter and easier for them to say it. But the head scientist gave me a.. human name. I believe it was… Querl or something?” He lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I do not remember. It’s probably in my data banks somewhere. Ah well.”

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Good gods, but he’d not smiled this much since horses had been the usual mode of transport. Was starting to hurt his face.

Couldn’t quit the grin though, certainly not after seeing the sudden flare of that flushed skin. Even whistled, low and amused. Supersoldier, aye? A interesting tidbit,  though this fella didn’t seem quite so highkey as mister Red-White-and-Blue, what with spinning all over the city with that gaudy Shield of his.

Didn’t drop his hand, lifting it up to curl his forefinger under the man’s jaw, thumb resting on the edge of his chin, “You in a hurry, darlin’? Pretty sure the superhero handbook says I’m owed something for making you safe and sound.”

Further Contact

James was speechless for a moment as he stared at Bertram for that first comment, almost forgetting how to breath. However it was evident that there was a small flush in his face from the comment because he was smart enough to work out the meaning behind the statement. “Guess I only look pretty when you’re the one on top of me,” he finally commented, deciding that was a decent enough reply with a decent amount of flirt to it as well.

At the hand on his chest, there was that return of forgetting how to actually breath moment again. Why the hell did this man make him so breathless? They had sex once. It was just sex. Nothing more. “Yeah suppose I am,” he sighed, his eyes looking up at Bertram. “It’s a rather… long story on how it all happened. But I guess just consider me a super solider… kinda like Captain America.”

Knowing he was alright and whatever ribs he might’ve broken would heal within the next day or so, he pushed himself up to sitting position. “Thanks for savin’ me. If ya hadn’t lent a hand those idiots would’ve never gotten me out.”

[stallwartprotector-blog]

“Fucking bastard,” Geoffrey seethed, fisting his hands tight and drawing one back, a rush in his ear, audible only to himself, the sensation of water between his fingers even though there was nothing there.

Struck his hand out swift and sudden, as if assaulting the air, satisfaction blooming along with the usual revulsion as pipes burst and a column of water shot out from below, a meter wide. Forced the Hydra bastard into the air, and then a jerk back of Geoffrey’s elbow had the column arc, enough back towards him that it bore the guy against the rooftop, rough and sudden.

Fucker’d likely be knocked out.

Hopefully. 

Freedom Denied

Sascha wasn’t sure if the man had understood him or not. No matter what he did, this stranger seemed very angry and very intent on taking him back to HYDRA. But he wasn’t going- at least, not willingly.

He looked at the man, then back over his shoulder at the long distance between him and a car that might sadly be his best option for cushioning, then back at the man once more. He didn’t sign anymore. But he did flip the guy off, and that was vaguely satisfying to do. There would be no deals, no negotiations. Sascha was thoroughly done with that life, even it it may end up being his only life.

Hesitantly, at first, he inched backward on the ledge. He told himself the effects of his mutation would be enough to save him from death or severe injury. He thought no more then, simply let himself fall backward, hoping for the best outcome. Not that a lot of good outcomes came from throwing yourself off buildings.

[stallwartprotector-blog]

“I-, I don’t want to call you Oracle,” Geoffrey admitted, giving the chair enough of a push that it would come to a halt in front of the guy without knocking into him. “Is that a name you even like? Did they give it to you here?”

Twists In The Labyrinth - stalwartprotector

He didn’t answer. It was a trick, it had to be a trick. Were they trying to evaluate him again? Trying to get him to trip up? Was someone else watching, someone strong, and someone important? Was it a test…? 

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Windows shattered while Bertram was carving a woman’s arm from her body.

He ducked down, got her in the throat before sweeping left, shoulder shoved into a man’s gut. Another dark clothed horde joined the one already in here as Bertram put the blade through the guy’s heart, more resistance felt than he was used to.

Mayhaps these bastards were getting wise to his tricks. Goddamn.

Maybe he, and this random gunslinger, outta get to higher ground. And then maybe through one of the side buildings.

“Coming, chief?” he called over the ruckus and gesturing towards the large hole in , jumping up on the counter as he swept left and right with his blade, clearing the fools off a bit, “Getting a bit crowded down here!”

Late Night Rush